sterlingwhitvale

[sterlingwhitvale]

“I’m sorry, that��That must’ve sounded like some sort of come-on.  It wasn’t.  I mean, not that I wouldn’t, you know, but…I wasn’t.  Coming on to you, that is.”  At this point he was about ready to walk up to the nearest peacekeeper and cause a scene just to escape his own stupidity.  Sterling wasn’t a smooth talker by any means, but he also wasn’t someone who often stumbled over his words, and at the moment, he felt out of control over his own body, it was disconcerting.  Especially as he knew he must be coming off as some sort of games obsessed fan, which was laughable to anyone who knew him.  Perhaps he wasn’t a fan of the games, but he had been of her.  Although, fan still felt like an odd word.  He had admired her, the way she had stayed strong for her family, for her brothers. 

 His own sister hadn’t been able to, not that he blamed her.  But as he had clung on to her in front of the crowds, tears spilling down young cheeks, she had started wailing.  Maybe it was because she had known, known that there was no way she’d make it out alive.  That it was her last time seeing her family.  If that was the case, now, he wanted to applaud her for making a scene, making everyone witness the destruction they were causing.  Try, however fruitlessly, to instill even an ounce of guilt into the capitolites that watched the reapings, even if that hadn’t been the purpose at all.

“I mean, I don’t blame you.  It’s pretty addicting.  I’m just glad my apartment still smells like it, otherwise I’d have to go a whole 8 hours without  it.” he replied, a small, sarcastic smile tickling his lips.  He remembered being surprised, though, seeing her father back at work.  For some reason, he had it in his mind that those who won the games were set for life.  But, now, he realized how naive that was.  Of course they weren’t, that would be too generous.  If they lost workers from every family that had a victor, that’d be hundreds of employees they couldn’t work to death, and then where would they be?

It became blatantly clear to him the older he became, just how much of a scam the entire thing was, from head to toe.  And sometimes, he wondered, as horrible as her death had been, if his sister had met the kinder fate.

When Cecelia had won her games, she had thought that things would get easier for her family. No more fifteen-hour shifts for her dad at the mill, and her mother could stop embroidering all of the Capitol's clothes. Her brothers would be safe and would have enough food to nourish their growing bodies. She had been partially right. She had enough food and space now, but her mother and father still had to work and her brothers still faced the fear of Reaping day every year. Woof had prepared her to win during those days after her name came out of the Reaping, but he never could have prepared her for the hell hat came after. The nightmares that still woke her up night after night, the way that people looked at her when she walked through the town square. For the expectations of the Capitol, for the lovers that she had no choice but to indulge whenever the Capitol called. He hadn't told her about the listlessness that sank in sometime after she won, no longer needing to work in the factories, her days went on endlessly, the memories of her dead tributes haunting her. He couldn't prepare her for losing her first tribute the next year, and the hell of having to sit with her family as they sobbed and grieved the loss of their daughter.

She knew her parents were worried about her, that she appeared to be going through the motions, barely living, barely breathing. Woof came by every day to check on her, to try to snap her out of it, but it had all become a little bit too much, and there were days when she barely got herself out of bed.

The only thing that seemed to work, that seemed to give her a semblance of a routine was meeting her father in the mill for breakfast sometimes, or lunch, depending on his schedule. Her win had brought good fortune to her father, he had been promoted to factory manager.

So lost in her thoughts she hadn't noticed the man coming towards her, and it seemed that he hadn't noticed either, because the next thing she knew, they had collided. The first thing that Cecelia noticed about him was his eyes. They were kind despite the obvious exhaustion on his face. The citizens of Eight were always exhausted. How many hours had he been working in the mill?

What's someone like you doing around here?

Cecelia had to laugh. Otherwise, she might cry. She didn't want to be different but winning those Games had damned her to be different. No longer a normal citizen of Eight, but not someone Capitol either. What was she?

"Oh, I don't know, I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way, I must've really missed the stench of sulfur," she teased lightly, a smile on her lips. She lifted the basket that she was holding in her other hand. "I'm bringing my dad his breakfast."

[sterlingwhitvale]

Sterling often wondered what their family would have been like if neither of them had to endure the hardships they had.  Would they be different as parents?  Harsher? Kinder?  He wasn’t sure.  But he did know he’d love them just as fiercely, but knew he couldn’t appreciate moments like this the same as he did now.  If neither he or Cecelia had been through what they had, these happy moments would just be a part of life, rather than the spoils of a hard fought battle.  They’d be a right they expected, rather than a privilege that they had to earn.

"I think we better check it out, just to be sure." he replied conspiratorially, before going in for the kill, whipping off the blanket, and holding the boy out in his arms, offering him up for his wife to do the honors.

He may never know what their life would have been like without tragedy, but times like this, he didn't really care.

/END

It was at moments like this that Cecelia reflected on how lucky she was. Her life may have been hard and full of traumas that she didn't want to face, but she had a beautiful family that kept her going. She had a husband that adored their kids, and kids that adored their father, and it was moments like this that she loved watching him. Sterling reminded her of her own father when he had the time for his children when he didn't have to work his long hours. Cecelia was grateful that Sterling made so much time for them, even though he was so busy with work.

Satina giggled. "Daddy! He's under the blanket!" She told her father and smiled. "Mama, tell Daddy that he's being silly!" Cecelia smiled at Sterling and Satina. "I don't know, Satina, I think that you're making that up," she told her daughter with a laugh. Satina laughed and gave them an exasperated look. Cecelia knelt down next to Satina, holding Juliet on her hip as Sterling started to swing their son around. "I think that your daddy is silly, huh?" She whispered to Satina, who nodded her head and smiled. "Daddy is so silly."

Cecelia straightened up and smiled at her husband. "I think that I did hear our boy, but I'm not quite sure where," she said with a laugh. She walked over to her husband and started to move around the blanket. "I keep hearing a laugh from this blanket. How strange," she commented. "Isn't that strange, Sterling?"

[sterlingwhitvale]

  ———  S T E R L I N G W H I T V A L E

[sterlingwhitvale]

It was as if he watched her get sucked back inside herself, her eyes suddenly more clear, more present, and his stomach turned over at the thought of what she must've endured for that to happen. How had they made her doubt her own mind? What had they done to her? "I'm here," he whispered against her skin in confirmation, soft as a prayer, "I'll always come for you, no matter where you are, you know that." It was said with conviction, he had failed her once, unable to get her out of the capitol in time, and he refused to do it again. She had already been through so much, and now she had to bear whatever it was they had done to her down here. How much could her shoulders carry?

It was with her next words, he began to understand the extent of their torture, and found himself filled with even more fury than before, if possible. He knew to never put anything past the capitol, their capacity for cruelty was never ending, always expanding, and their technology to aid them in these quests, doing the same. He could only wonder how they had made her think they held their son. Had they shown her edited images? Shown her some lookalike? Replicated his voice? Did it yell 'mama'? Did it beg for her to save him?

He wanted to be sick at the very thought, so he could only imagine what it must be like to be convinced it was true. "He's in 13, Cecelia. He's safe. They never had him." Saliva still swelled in his mouth, having to keep his stomach from betraying him at the very thought she had been stuck in this place for all these months, thinking the capitol had their son. "I'd have died before I let them touch our children." He may have not been able to protect her, like he should have, and that was something that would haunt him until the end of his days. And he hoped she'd know that, would understand that, that he'd always fight for her, tearing down the capitol brick by brick to get to her, but he would tear down the world and any heavens or hells that may exist before he'd fail their children, the silent oath they both swore when they created those three lives.

"Let's get you out of here, you can see for yourself."

How many times had Cecelia dreamed of this very moment? How many times had she hoped that the guard on the other side of the door would be her husband? It had never been, though, and each time it had been another disappointment for her. Another reminder that she was still under Snow's control. Holding onto the hope that Sterling would come for her eventually had kept her going, had kept her somewhat sane. Cecelia had to believe that Sterling was going to come eventually, otherwise she feared that she would end up like Thea or Peeta.

But even as Sterling stood in the doorway she wasn't ready to believe that it was him, that he had finally come. She was afraid that this was another test. President Snow loved his tests. Claudia died because she failed the test. Jax had been taken from them because she failed the test. She hadn't been good enough to make Snow look the other way about Sterling's rebel tendencies. Could this be another test? Even though she was in her cell and not in the room designed to torture her, she momentarily felt all the air get sucked out of the room. She felt the familiar panic flood through her and she tried to catch her breath.

His voice broke her from her panic. The way that he said her name, the words that fell from his lips calmed her. Cecelia had known when she looked into his eyes, but she didn't want to believe it yet. She couldn't let herself believe it. What if it was another trick? But then he spoke. He spoke and she knew. It was Sterling. It was her Sterling.

Before she could do anything or even really grasp it, Sterling was in front of her and she was in his arms. The tears started to fall down her cheeks and she threw her arms around him. Cecelia had started to believe that she was going to die before Sterling came for her. "You're here," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "I knew you would come."

Cecelia pulled away from him a moment later, the tears still falling down her cheeks. "We need to find Jax," she told him, her voice desperate. "He has Jax. He-he said that a Capitol family took him in, Domi saw him. Sterling, he has our son, we have to find him, we can't...we can't leave him. What...what if he doesn't remember us anymore. He said he would do it." Cecelia was hysterical, and she was afraid he wouldn't understand what she was telling him. He had to understand. "We have to find our son," she sobbed.

[sterlingwhitvale]

Sterling found it odd to be having such a normal conversation, in spite of all that was happening.  The very foundations of their worlds were changing, being destroyed, and hopefully rebuilt better.  But, that was what being a parent was, the world could be imploding, but there was a responsibility not only to hide that from your children, but help their lives go on in spite of it. Revolution be damned, his kid still had food allergies, and he still had to take care of it.

And while it was nice to interact with another adult, as genuine as he tried to be, the lightness of the conversation couldn't help but seem faux. Forced. But as Sterling tried his damndest to adapt to this strange new normal, he was living by the mindset of 'fake it until you make it'. Perhaps if he pretend everything was normal, it would soon feel like it. It was a stupid attempt, really, because how could anything ever feel normal again without his wife by his side? But, still, in vain, he tried. "Not until the fat lady sings, huh?"

He hummed at Ezra's observation, his own observations and sentiments about many of the folks of 13 found to be similar to the man's. He understood the wariness from some, but he absolutely despised the looks from some, accusation clear in their eyes, making it obvious they weren't wanted. It made Sterling want to shake them, it wasn't as if this was a one sided situation. They weren't all birds with an injured wing who were taking up their supplies. Thirteen was waging a war, and they wouldn't be able to do so without getting a boost on the backs of their 'refugees', whether that be in more folks to take up arms, give their knowledge of the districts, or provide propaganda material; in his case all three. "Warm as a snow storm, probably." Sterling agreed, although he wanted to say so much more, but was still learning the lesson on keeping his mouth shut.

"But, thank you, for the advice, keeping all their rules and systems straight is a bit overwhelming," let alone getting his eldest two to follow them. "How're you holding up with it all?"

eye line periodically moves from cutting board to sterling, in an attempt to let the other rebel know he's listening. attention is split between the other man and the carrots being diced into rounds. words are accented with the sound of blade continuously cutting through the vegetable and meeting the board. that and the dishwasher roaring in the corner. " oh that's only one round, shouldn't get so ahead of yourself just yet, " he rebuttals, tone light. it's been a long day and the headspace for something even remotely wittier seems too far away. plus, there's that part of him that feels bad laughing along and having moments of lightheartedness with thea facing snow and his terror probably at this very moment. surely sterling can unfortunately relate, klair imagines.

soon, whitvale is making it known the reasoning for his impromptu visit to the kitchen quarters. he begins to move the medallioned carrots into the appropriate bucket as he offers some but rather limited solutions. " there's a station situated to the right corner in the dining hall. it's suppose to provide allergen free options. they focus on meals without nuts, wheat, gluten, and soy, " ezra begins. with food sources rather limited, at least some other common allergies wouldn't be an active concern. he's not sure if this is a proper solution for sterling and his kid, as it could still be something else. " you might be able to get access to a larger scale menu if you get some documentation from the hospital wing. i heard someone from seven did that, " he's quick to add.

" that route might be easier than coming down every couple of days to ask, especially because some of the staff might not react the ... warmest to being asked. " there's a brief pause as he tries to land on the right word. referring to it as warmth or lackthereof was a choice. whenever a shoulder was cold, ezra had to remind himself that district thirteen wasn't used to this amount of people, or it's a person who is from a district that's being evacuated. he'll choose to think it's nothing personal.

[sterlingwhitvale]

  ———  S T E R L I N G W H I T V A L E

[sterlingwhitvale]

13 had spent the past months training Sterling to be a soldier, in more ways than one. They taught him physicality, and tried to instill the same virtues mentally. Perhaps he had retained some of it, but overwhelmingly, he was a husband, a father first. And after the first batch of survivors were brought up from the depths of the tribute tower, with the knowledge of where they now were, it became blatantly obvious that Sterling had worn the title of 'soldier' like a shroud to reveal his true identity, and quickly shed it as he sprinted away from Johanna. He had promised in the propo that he'd come for her, and he wasn't about to break it.

"Where is she?" he barked at those who had actually been tasked with retrieving the prisoners, thankfully he didn't have to specify before being pointed in a direction, because he didn't think he had the patience to explain or repeat himself, his bones practically buzzing under his skin at the thought of seeing his wife again. Perhaps, it was also in fear, so afraid of what he'd see. He had already been ready to tear down every block of the damn tower, pulling stones until you could see bone, but he might tear down the entire damn capitol, depending on the condition he found her in. And despite the knowledge that opening that door would mean a complete and utter alteration of their future, depending on what was on the other side of it. But without hesitation, he ripped it open.

The panic that spread through his gut when the chaotic movement of his eyes didn't catch her form at first as they moved faster than his brain could proccess, was something unlike he had ever felt before. The horrible thought that Snow had killed her before the rescue, a special punishment for the couple who now so publicly refused his power. But as his eyes finally came to rest on her, he realized Snow didn't need to kill her to inflict such pain. Her heart shaped face was gaunt and narrow, bruises kissing her cheekbone and temple that made him want to find the guard that gave her them. But most of all, he realized the cruelty that she must have experienced as he looked into those hazel eyes he had spent countless hours of his life looking into, into the eyes she had lovingly crafted in each of their children as she carried them and gave them life. They were dazed and confused and didn't seem to carry the same spirit they once had. Despite her calling out his name, Sterling wasn't sure they were seeing him, and it was scaring him to death.

Without a thought for what must be an incredibly sore body, before he could stop himself, Sterling was ripping his way across the room, barely able to stop himself from slamming into her, but desperate to feel her in his arms, to assure himself that he was seeing her, truly.

A mix of her name and every other loving thing he had ever called her spilled out of his mouth in a devotional whisper, and his hands fluttered about his wife, gentle, as if an archeologist dusting away dirt from an artifact, the worry of damaging the prized goods in their hands, overwhelming.

Location: Capitol cell block, day 60 @sterlingwhitvale

Cecelia hadn't moved since she had been returned to her cell after her visit with President Snow. She had curled up on the cot in the back of her cell and listened as the others had been taken and returned, to the sobs of the other captives as they grieved for more lives lost. How many losses were enough? When would President Snow decide that enough was enough?

When was she going to see her son again? Where was he right now? Was he safe? Did he still remember her and Sterling or had the Capitol followed through with their promises to make him forget them?

She was in that in-between place of being awake and asleep when she heard the voices. They were faint at first, and she thought...she thought she heard Sterling's voice, but she was sure that it was a dream. Cecelia tried to close her eyes tighter, wanting to hold onto Sterling's voice for a little while longer.

The noises got louder, though, and she forced herself to open her eyes, annoyed that Peacekeepers were coming in again. What fresh hell had they come up with this time? Hadn't they all suffered enough? She could hear shuffling in the cellblock now, and doors starting to rattle, and she felt her heart start to pound. Why were there so many footsteps? Was this it? Had Snow tired of them?

Her door swung open and she froze. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked like her husband. But it couldn't be Sterling. It was a trick, another Capitol trick. But then she saw the look in the man's eyes and she knew. Her heart started to race in her chest as she heard more snippets of conversations around them.

"Sterling?" She whispered. "Am I dreaming?"

[sterlingwhitvale]

It takes everything in Sterling to not bring up the evening’s drinks on the bar right then and there.  Of course, it had always been a looming threat, but Sterling had always counted on it being too obvious a move.  Who would believe in the chance that a victor’s own child would be reaped?  Especially when there were children with higher chances from tessarae?  Sterling clenched his jaw as he tried to tamp down the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth and the churning of his stomach.  Eyes gazed at the monster in front of him and tried to study him, try to find the man, as if he’d be able to figure out whether this was a simple taunt or a promise.  

Then they flicked to the glass in his own hand, a fleeting thought on whether he’d be able to break it against the bar, before stabbing a sharpened edge into the man’s neck before the president’s security could reach him.  He knew that choice would only result in his death, but if he truly committed, and made sure death stuck around and brought the man in front of him with him, could he save his children?

Without that guarantee, he couldn’t bring himself to do it.  He could kill the man and have his family executed in return, saving them from the reaping but killing them much quicker.  So instead, he abruptly stood, “Excuse me, President Snow, I’m suddenly feeling unwell.  Wouldn’t want to make you sick as well, so I ought to be going.”  They both must know he wasn’t sick, but it was up in the air whether the old man in front of him understood how narrowly he had just avoided death, and only because of those children he so carelessly threatened to reap.

" it will be a differing marvel once they reach reaping age, i'm sure, " he dismissively agrees. the tone doesn't match the stark, harsh reality of the situation. threat is there, but it's not boldfaced. instead it shows an indifference. as though them being shelled out to the arena is as much of a menial decision as satina picking two choices for her scoops of iced dessert. for a man who is renowned for his lack of subtly in facial expressions, there might be something humorous in watching the camera pan to him as one of his children's names got called by the current district eight escort.

light eyes watch as dark liquor goes down the other's gullet. " it's very quaint and charming, you'll have to forgive me though. i prefer to savor even if the libation is a few shelves down. " there's times he might indulge with government officials here and there ; one time the opposite's cup had an extra almond taste to it. he thinks it's unbecoming past youth to just gulp down a shot. instead he brings it up to his lips and takes a sip. it's not refreshing, rather more of a country swill. he can have something nicer once he retreats to his home office. " how is mrs. whitvale ? i'm due to make a visit with her soon. "

[sterlingwhitvale]

who: @ceceliaknowsbest where: district 8 mills when: 10 years ago

God, his Ma was going to kill him.  She had just gotten the grease stains out from these pants, large hand prints dragged down the side of his thigh, and here they were again.   He didn’t mean to, it was just when he was in the belly of the beast, his mind occupied in pieces and parts and how they’re failing to work together, he forgets about the rag tucked in his pocket, and all he can think of to fix his grip is a quick swipe on the pants.  But to be honest, he was tired enough he was falling straight into bed, she might not even see him until dinner tomorrow, depending what shifts she was working.  His mind sluggishly moved through a to do list as he moved through the streets lined with all different kinda of mills on his way home, eyes mostly trained towards the ground. To be honest, he had realized a couple months ago after he had been promoted, that a surprising amount of mothers of girls from his class in school had a habit of 'bumping into him', giving them an excuse to lavish praise upon their daughters, so he generally made a habit of keeping his head on a swivel. But after almost 16 hours working on a bale breaker, he was exhausted, and had stopped paying attention.

And as he did, in fact, bump into someone, he cursed himself, struggling to find his manners and plaster on a cumbersome smile. All attempts dropped as he realized exactly who it was he bumped into. Sterling may have been a quiet man, but he was rarely speechless.

He had to wonder exactly why a victor was hanging around the mills, and before he could stop himself, he opened his stupid mouth

"What's someone like you doing around here?"

God he wished he was still speechless.

[sterlingwhitvale]

  ———  S T E R L I N G W H I T V A L E

[sterlingwhitvale]

He nodded at the other man's question, almost rhetorical in nature, much to his chagrin, most knew who he was. He wished he could say that was an exaggeration or he had an inflated sense of self, but it was unfortunately true. It somehow felt even more overwhelming in 13, so many people he had never interacted with before in one space, members from other districts who had access to Panem's entertainment meeting him for the first time, whereas all those in 8 didn't care, and for all those in the capitol he didn't care. He wondered now, if Ezra, now the face of the most infamous of Hunger Games, felt the same way, surrounded by both the known and unknown, but all looking at him differently.

"Guess no District 13 talent shows for you, then. Especially when now I know what I can beat you in." he responded, an unverbalized tsk tsk tsk hanging in the air. Sterling on the other hand, had great dexterity, fingers nimble from all his time fixing up the mills in 8. He hadn't realized he could juggle until he was desperately trying to quiet a screeching Jax when he was just a baby.

Sterling held back the need to say something snarky regarding district 13 and all it's rules. Many he understood, as they were based around security and safety for the invisible district, but others felt a bit far reaching. Even in the lower districts, so tightly held in the fist of the capitol, they had certain freedoms that were lacking in 13. But, he held his tongue, not wanting to disparage the people who, if they kept their promise, would be the reason for his wife's return.

"Well, kid number 2 has food allergies," Sterling started, "And I know how crazy it must be back there, cooking for so many people, and I'm not lookin' for special treatment or anythin', but if there is any chance I could get a heads up on what the meals are so I could try to figure somethin' out...That'd be great. Tryin' to pull a 6 year old off of food they already decided they want to eat is...rough, to say the least."

answers are harder to come by than ezra would expect in district thirteen. even with him having volunteered for the arena and subsequent mission within, the higher-ups of the rebellion seem to want to hold things to their chest. the former tribute has asked several times if and when a mission to the capitol will commence. there's the slightest comfort in having watched thea get interviewed by caesar flickerman. he knows that she's breathing ; terror lingered in the very eyes he's committed to memory though. she fears for him and for the district two victors who have found themselves in thirteen. ( brutus and cadence are guilt-less in essence, that his better half is correct on. )

others within the rebellion seem to have plenty of loved ones missing in action too. klair does not know the man before him, but he knows of him. all of panem knows of the whitvale family, particularly the matriarch who won the hunger games many years ago. how many exactly, ezra cannot quite remember. the math he can do however is that one member from the reality television family was unaccounted for in thirteen. it seems that sterling and him had something in common unfortunately.

" that would be me. you're sterling from eight, right ? " the question is rhetoric in nature, because he knows. other than members of thirteen who haven't utilized a television before, most here would too. ezra continues even before the other has a chance to confirm, " nice to meet you. " eyes go upward briefly from the vegetables to give the other a friendly smile and quick nod. his appearances in the kitchen vary day to day. sometimes he's informed to be in the dining hall before sunrise. days like today, he'd only first been summoned to prep for tomorrow. once the bucket of carrots and onions are peeled and chopped, ezra's chores will be done for the day.

" don't tell anyone, but i'm a god awful juggler. " if he didn't have a task at hand, ezra might have used the vegetables at hand to demonstrate. not that he's ever truly tried, but his humor was corny at best. " we're not suppose to technically have unauthorized personnel back here, but what can i do you for ? " the rebel is being assumptious, but he hadn't seen whitvale on the kitchen duty list today. as long as the other man isn't here to comment on the seasoning ( or unfortunate lack thereof, ) ezra can try to accommodate.

[sterlingwhitvale]

THE END

"I think we both know that they're as strong as they're going to get." He replied, they had to strike while the iron was hot. He understood her hesitance, after seeing the violence that was wrought against their own district only months ago when a choice few had tried to stand up. It had been a rebellion, yes. But it wasn't the rebellion. And he desperately searched his mind for a way to tell her that there was more than what she had seen, there were folks in every district, banding together in the dark, away from the prying eyes of the capitol. "It's because they didn't have alliances this last time. But next time, they will, and that'll make all the difference." His voice was tinged with desperation, his eyes trained on hers, willing her to understand what he was trying to say, while still sounding as if he was just a comforting husband.

He was still didn't know the best way to go about this. Did he keep her entirely in the dark in the off chance she was questioned and she could answer truthfully that she knew nothing? Or was he leaving her unprepared? Should he arm her with the weapon of knowledge, even if it was just a small dagger? Sterling was a confident man, someone who took decisive action. But when it came to his wife and their kids, his love for them caused him to falter, unsure where to place his next step, trying to avoid the landmines of the capitol.

"Then I guess we'll just have to keep reminding you," he responded, nuzzling into her hair before placing a kiss against her head. And they always would, he and the kids, be there to remind her exactly who she was and why they loved her. He didn't think the youngest understood how much they did, but Sterling had a sneaking suspicion that their too-smart-for-his-own-good 8 year old had some understanding, with the way he'd monopolize his mother's attention after she came back from the capitol, as if he was distracting her the best he could. "It won't always be like this." he said, his voice firm and knowing, believing truly that it wouldn't. Because he couldn't bear to think of the toll it would take on his wife and their family if it was.

[sterlingwhitvale]

  ———  S T E R L I N G W H I T V A L E

[sterlingwhitvale]

The Paley Center Salutes This Is Us 

[sterlingwhitvale]

’ 𝙵𝙸𝚅𝙴 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 ’ 𝙳𝚁𝙰𝙱𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂.

so i was looking at THIS MEME and THIS MEME and like. there’s something that i just love so much about these?? so essentially, the sender might send in smth like. “five times cried”. and the receiver can respond with a drabble about five times the receiver’s muse cried because of the sender’s muse! if you’re confused, that’s my fault, and that’s also why i have links to two of the memes that inspired this. i hope you all enjoy! as always, do NOT add more to these, i WILL be making a part 2!

five times kissed:     ( five times the receiver and sender kissed )

five times hugged:     ( five times the receiver hugged the sender )

five times called:      ( five times the receiver called the sender’s phone )

five times texted:      ( five times the receiver texted the sender )

five times cried:      ( five times the receiver cried over the sender )

five times smiled:      ( five times the sender made the receiver smile )

five times touched:      ( five times the receiver touched the sender (platonically or romantically or otherwise!) )

five times saved:     ( five times the sender’s life was saved by the receiver )

five times saved by:      ( five times the receiver was saved by the sender. )

five times protected:     ( five times the receiver was protected by the sender )

five times protective:      ( five times the receiver was protective of the sender )

five times thanked:      ( five times the receiver thanked, or felt gratitude towards, the sender )

five times comforted:      ( five times the receiver comforted the sender )

five times angered:      ( five times the sender made the receiver angry )

five times betrayed:      ( five times the receiver was, or felt, betrayed by the sender )

five times saddened:      ( five times the receiver felt sad for or because of the sender )

five times worried:      ( five times the receiver worried about the sender )

five times relieved:      ( five times the receiver felt relieved about the sender )

five times safe:      ( five times the receiver felt safe because of the sender )

five times happy:     ( five times the sender made the receiver happy. )

five times afraid:     ( five times the sender made the receiver feel afraid )

five times hurt:      ( five times the sender hurt the receiver or made them feel hurt. )

five times visited:      ( five times the sender and receiver visited each other )

five times left:      ( five times the sender and receiver parted ways )

five times reunited:      ( five times the sender and receiver reunited after being apart for a considerable length of time. )

five times stayed:      ( five times the receiver stayed with the sender )

five times glanced:     ( five times the receiver stole glances at the sender )

five times glanced at:      ( five times the receiver noticed the sender stealing glances at them )

five times healed:      ( five times the receiver nursed the sender back to health, or tended to their wounds )

five times watched:      ( five times the receiver watched the sender while they were working or doing something )

five times shared:      ( five times the receiver shared something (either a material or feelings or secrets!) with the sender )

five times flirted:      ( five times the receiver flirted with the sender )

five times blurted:      ( five times the receiver impulsively blurted something out to the sender )

five times confessed:     ( five times the receiver confessed a secret or feeling to the sender )

five times noticed:      ( five times the receiver noticed the sender properly )

[sterlingwhitvale]

THE REAL IMPORTANT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONS PART 2

another random assortment for your enjoyment!

do they enjoy silence or find it too loud?

how many hours of sleep do they average per night?

would they ever skydive/paraglide/etc?

describe their dream home.  looks, location, decorations, etc.

can they roller skate/skateboard?  would they like to learn?

what’s their favorite dish to cook?  favorite dish to order out?

describe their dream vacation.  would they take anyone or go alone?

are they close to any of their family members?  

what is their idea of the afterlife?  does it scare them?

what’s their love language?  

would they describe themselves as beautiful/handsome/etc?  

did their childhood have a negative or positive impact on them?  

what they wanted to be when they grew up vs what they do now.

what type of neighborhood did they grow up in?  do they still live there?

does their family/friends have any traditions they take part of?

who is their best friend?  how long have they known them?

do they have anyone they consider their enemy?  what did they do to gain that title?

did they have a rebellious stage as a teenager?  what did it involve?

what’s currently in their pockets/purse/etc?

how much cash do they generally carry with them?

do they celebrate any holidays?  what are the celebrations like?  do they have a favorite?

have they ever traveled outside their country?

are they an affectionate person?  how do they feel about pda?

if they were choosing an adventure to go on what would it consist of?

have they ever been in a physical fight?  what happened?

are they more likely to take the leader role or let someone else call the shots?

has anyone ever betrayed their trust?  do they still speak to them?

do they believe in magic?  why do they have this belief?

do they wake up on the first alarm, hit snooze, or have multiple alarms set? 

what’s the first major event they remember in their life?

what would their three wishes be if they found a genie?  

have they ever ended a relationship to pursue their career/education further?  what happened?

what do they consider their worst habit? 

are they good at explaining things to others?

how do they handle being upset/angry?  do they yell, cry, go silent, etc?

do they have any habits they believe are odd?

if they could hit redo on a single past event in their life what would it be?  would they do it if it meant changing the present?

what does their future look like when they picture it?  who’s there with them?

have they ever been to court?  what was the outcome?

what would they do for a klondike bar?