point flyer

Adventure (“Is that my shirt?”, Sam x Reader, fluff)

Idk how this got where it went but I was listening to my fluff playlist and this happened haha enjoy!! also this is mostly an apology for the copious amounts of angst I have lined up xx

Word Count: 2,247

Warnings: Lil bit NSFW

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Life with Sam was a constant adventure. That was something you’d learned early on in the relationship with the surprise puppy he’d gotten the two of you, spontaneous weekend road trips and the fact that you now were the proud owner of over four thousand frequent flyer points. In hindsight, you thought the fact that his occupation title was “treasure hunter” should have been enough of an indicator that this would be the case.

This weekend? Roadtrip to Valencia from your hotel in Barcelona. You were on a job, but considering it was the simplest break-and-enter the two of you had ever been given, you and Sam had decided to make it bit of a vacation.

It ended up being a four-hour drive with traffic, but the two of you had brought plenty of snacks and Sam had downloaded a surprise playlist that mostly consisted of pirate shanties he’d made sure to memorise all the lyrics of. After the second hour, the two of you were belting them from the tops of your lungs with windows rolled down on the highway, the reflection of the dog with his head sticking out the window in your rear view mirror.

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You know what I love about Pet Sematary? It’s that most ghost stories where the ghost tries to warn the main character about something they are always very nonspecific. They always give them little hints of what they’re trying to say and it’s completely out of context, so there’s like no way the person can ever fully understand them until it’s too late.

But Pascow could not have been more specific. I mean Pascow had like a power point presentation, flyers, a bullet points summary, he had a demonstrational tour, he literally took Louis to the cemetery and he was like “Dude, if you cross this line shit’s gonna go down because of all of these reasons.” Pascow explained everything in detail, he was very clear and objective, but Louis was still like “Yeah, Imma still do it tho, Imma still do it”

Beauty or the Beast?

Summary: Dan Howell is the best male actor at his school, and the drama teacher Mr. Faivre knows it. Paired with Cat Valdez, the two are a cinch for the two leads in every school show. So when the Fall show “Beauty and the Beast” is announced, Cat and Dan are ecstatic. However, at the audition, things aren’t what they seem. Not to mention that Phil Lester, the goody-two-shoes (who Dan Howell hates with a passion) auditions, things really turn upside down. 

Words: 1647

Chapter: 1 

Triggers: cursing

Find the rest of the story in reverse chronological order here: x

Special thanks to @phandaya, @ryrosryhawk, and Annabelle who has no tumblr for being my amazing editors and putting up w/ my procrastination. 

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Goldsmiths BA Fine Art 15’ Catalog & Notebooks Point Zero has been commissioned by Goldsmtihs University to design its degree show catalog & identity for the BA Fine Art 2015. Catalog : 220 pages, full color, A5, embossed cover Printed by Graphius in Gent (Belgium). Notebooks : 10 pages, gloss cover, black and white Poster : A3, full color, printed by Goldsmiths University, in London (UK)

So sometimes I take surveys for frequent flyer points. It’s super annoying so I don’t do it that often, but the other day I had some time to kill so I was taking some. They first ask you a dizzying array of repetitive questions (can’t the fucking survey site remember that I don’t have kids?) and then some that figure out which surveys I should take. So this was the list of questions I had to answer this time.

Small things

I am often enamored with big things: big ideas, big novels, big trees, big cities.

But I am not always in love with these. 

I am in love with small things, so often the things that - when gathered - make the big things bigger.

A friend who says “hi friend” whenever you meet,

A goofy smile on a stranger as they talk on the phone,

Joggers, syncopated running and rhythm, setting a pulse for pedestrians,

A woman - singing, bobbing her torso, in her thumping car - at a stop light,

The joyful chatter of so many people, small conversations over coffee and bountiful produce, at a farmer’s market

Exclamation points on flyers for course announcements, like wallpaper on campus building walls: “Africa is not a country! Become an Africana studies major!”

“Learn about a minor in Linguistics!”

The small joy I see in moments that can be fleeting, paper that can be recycled, and strangers never to be seen again-

Those are part of the big things one can fall for, to which one can consign their heart, their dreams, their livelihood.

They are the cells that make up the body - even the crumbling curbs and rusted street signs.

Nothing is so clean and clear, so pristine - not always, and maybe not ever, for some things.

But as small things go, they are descended from the same place, the same origin-

and so big things they can become.

We are all small things in a big place. We are big people, vessels of words and memories, to others.

But not to all people or all things.

And I, to you, say “hi friend.”

Let us be small things in a big place.