🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with (Syd) (Art, Edgar, Christian)
To be stuck in an elevator with - Christian (It’s easiest to ignore him here.)
To be stuck in traffic with - Art (You KNOW these two have sat in LA traffic in together in Sydney’s baby blue jeep, singing their heart out to Abba before. And it is always a vibe.)
To be stuck in the apocalypse with - Edgar. (Truly the only person Sydney trusts more is Sol and occasionally his mother - and that’s not always.)
thinking about the time when someone on here was trying to tell everyone to watch sports and someone added "even if you don't like it, it's a good excuse to be in a huge open-air stadium surrounded by screaming people eating overpriced hotdogs" and i have never felt a more profound sense of
she'd seen christian out of the corner of her eye over an hour ago and had been furiously avoiding ever since. it wasn't too hard given the large house party they were in. it had been years since they last laid eyes on each other and decided they were better off apart. the worst day of her life. she didn't want to face him and face the reality that they were anything but what they once were. as they physically bump into each other, however, its clear the universe had other plans. " shit— " mahogany hues meet his deep azure pools and it feels like she's taking a breath of fresh air. she quickly snaps out of it. " i see you still don't watch where you're going. " (@darkhoneys)
Caption: "YOU POOR LITTLE THING," SAID THE FIELD-MOUSE, "COME IN."
Booklet Description:
SCENE FOUR - Poor little Thumbelina lived all the summer quite alone in the wood. She plaited a bed of grass for herself and hung it up under a big dock-leaf which sheltered her from the rain; she sucked the honey from the flowers for her food, and her drink was the dew. In this way the summer and autumn passed, but then came the winter. It began to snow and every snowflake which fell upon her was like a whole shovelful upon one of us. She wrapped herself up in a withered leaf, but that did not warm her much, she trembled with the cold.
Close to the wood lay a large cornfield. Shaking with the cold she came to a field-mouse's home, a little hole down under the frozen stubble. The field-mouse's whole room was full of corn, and she had a beautiful kitchen and larder. Poor Thumbelina begged for a little piece of barley corn, for she had had nothing to eat for two whole days.
"You poor little thing," said the field-mouse. "Come into my warm room and dine with me." Then as she took a fancy to Thumbelina, she said, "you may stay with me for the winter, but you must keep my room clean and tell me stories." Thumbelina did what she asked and was on the whole very comfortable.