A GIF doing the rounds at reddit at the moment demonstrating how an industrial system creates the worn and distressed look on denim is created - below is a more comprehensive demonstraton of how the tech works and what more can be done with it:
Fresh laundry. Hot dogs for dinner. Cold pizza for breakfast. A really good haircut. A joke so funny that you cry. New shoes. The CRACK! of a baseball on a wooden bat. FOMO. Peppermint chewing gum. Runner's high. Your first crush.
Pine trees. Cold dew on a summer morning. MRE's that don't taste like paper pulp. Cornfields as far as the eye can see. Screaming at the sky late at night. Turkey with stuffing. White bread in a plastic sleeve. Getting gum on your shoes.
Scented candles and burnt popcorn. Fresh-cut daisies. Drawing with charcoal. Sun bleached bones. The smell of gasoline. Gel pens. Your favorite animated movie. The scapegoat. Not caring at all.
Butterscotch and sulfur. Rolling meadows of grass. Sand in your shoes. Fried fish in a greasy newspaper. Fireworks on a warm summer evening. Wool turtleneck sweaters. Being double-dog-dared to swim in the lake during winter. The best hole-in-the-wall pub in the world.
Dusty old books. Creaking floorboards. Fresh winter snow. A really good sandwich. Finding a new favorite novel. A handmade scarf. Getting a good grade on an assignment. First editions. Going to the natural history museum. Firmly believing why you were put on this earth.
Breakfast foods. Campfires. The satisfying clicking of clockwork machinery. Reading bedtime stories aloud. T-shirts with math jokes on them. Tuning a guitar. Petting zoos. Knowing your limits. Learning about something that makes you really happy. A cool looking rock.
Antiseptic. Down comforters. Really round fluffy birds. Bad puns. Doing things because you can. Hot tea. Waking up before the sun does. Whistling. Dry cleaning. Fun facts about animals. Really strange nonfiction books. Windy winter days.
Dirt and black coffee. Climbing a tree. People watching. Road trips. Going to bed and realizing you haven't spoken to anyone all day. Fairy bread. Getting caught in the rain. Really cool scars. Having a story for everything. Polarized lenses.
Vermouth and tobacco. Minimalist cuff links. Playing cards. Hair pomade. Silk ties. Your first love. A passing feeling of emptiness. Heels clicking on polished floors. Crusty dinner rolls with soft warm bread on the inside.
Lavender hand soap. Gunpowder. Lilac polo shirts. Worn black denim. Staying up late and watching the home shopping channel because you can't sleep. Beat-up firearms catalogs. Telling your mother to return your birthday gift because your workplace has strict dress codes regarding clothing colors, even though you desperately need that new skirt. Finding drawings from when you were a child. Soft wool cardigans. Shiny silver knives. Yogurt with fruit. Hating and loving your job at the same time.
( PROMPT: We’re making out on the couch when a member of your family - who doesn’t know we’re friends with benefits - walks in and what do you mean I have to be your pretend girlfriend? )
A/N: I’M BACK!! FIRST STORY SINCE MY ARRIVAL IN ROME!! I’ll be posting sneak peeks of my stories, as well as edits and graphics on my Instagram (3rdgymbros), so do follow me there!! Comments and reblogs are appreciated! I love you guys!!
Hands, warm and strong, grip your hips. Peter’s
lips, so firm yet soft, press against yours. His mouth slants against yours,
seeking and ravenous, sucking on your lips and tongue. Moaning, you arch into
him, your fingers tangled in his silky hair.
You were painting your kitchen. Kiwi blasting throughout the house as you danced around. Your worn out denim overall had paint all over it of different colors and your hair up in a wild bun.
“I’m having your babay! It’s not your business!” You sang out of tune, twirling yourself before painting the wall. You were alone in the house; Harry had interviews and meetings all day and you wanted to surprise him with the new painted kitchen walls of your shared flat.
To say you were excited would be an understatement. Your newly sky blue painted kitchen walls made you grin as it exchanged the black painting which you despised and made you feel gloomy whenever you were cooking.
After finally finishing and taking a well earned shower, you sat in the living room, calling Harry to ask him when was he coming.
“Hi, Haz.” You sat on your stomach, your feet in the air.
“Hey, baby. How are you?”
“I’m good. Great even. I wanted to know when are you going to come? I miss you and I have a surprise.” You grinned.
“Should I be scared?” Harry chuckled through the phone.
“No.” You laughed.
“I’ll be home in 5, love. And I miss you too.” He replied.
“Alright. Fancy some pizza?” You asked.
“On it. I’m waiting for you. Love you.”
“Love you too, munchkin. Bye.” And he hung up. You order yours and Harry’s favorite pizza and turned on the television as an attempt to contain your excitement.
Minutes later, you heard the sound of keys and the door opening, making you grin and go to the door to find Harry closing the door and taking off his shoes. He lifted his head, a tired smile on his face once he saw you and opened his arms.
You jumped on him, placing your lips on his. “How was your day?” You asked him.
Harry, still carrying you, shrugged, “Shitty. Tiring. I just want a really nice shower then a really nice cuddle with my gorgeous girlfriend.” He said before pecking your lips.
You kissed his cheek before jumping back in the floor and holding his hand. “I have to show you something.”
You began dragging him behind you and into the kitchen. You turned to see him, his smile dropping and reflexively, yours did. “You don’t like it?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to paint the kitchen?” Harry asked, looking at you and crossing his arms across his chest.
“I just wanted to surprise you.” You shrugged.
“So you take decisions in our shared flat? Alone?” He raised a brow.
“Don’t look at it like that. I mean, we both talked a few months ago about changing the color and you said it would be fine if we painted it sky blue or deep green so I thought…” You stopped, playing with your fingers.
“We’ll talk about this later. I’m tired.” And with that, he went upstairs, took a shower and slept. No cuddles. Pizza for one.
The next day, you were in the kitchen making breakfast and suddenly, sky blue didn’t look nice anymore. You put the last pancake on the plate and turned around, almost dropping the plate in fear, “Jesus, Harry, I didn’t know you woke up.” You breathed out before putting his plate in front of him.
He only gave you a side halfhearted smile in return as he began eating. You sat on the chair opposite to him, eating in silence. Something you both rarely did. “You’re still mad?” You asked.
He sighed, putting his fork down, “I’m not mad. I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have been like that. I was just tired and I was surprised.”
“You looked mad.” You muttered, playing with your piece of pancake.
Harry stood up, approaching you from behind and wrapping his arms around you before giving your neck a chaste kiss, “I’m sorry. It honestly looks nice and cheerful. Better than black.”
“Yes, I promise. Now we can cook more without both of us feeling gloomy.” He chuckled before nudging your cheek with his nose.
You grinned, “Cookies?”
“What are you waiting for? Let’s bake our asses off!”
i don’t know where this idea came from but somehow it popped in my head, the premise is your one of carl’s military dude officer guy’s daughter and you hook up and then he takes you on a good ole gallagher adventure. that’s not proper english whateverusebusebeuhsdfbjsc jsdbsbud
also it’s unintentionally deep in some parts idk this is like a mini story rather than any kind of simple smut I LIKE REAL STORIES OKAY SOMETIMES I WANT TO WRITE MORE THAN JUST CARL BEING A HORNY BOY LET ME LIVE
Word count: 3,413
Your dad had served in the military since way before you were born, and he had recently taken a job at a military school. When you thought of military school you thought only of privileged guys who had nothing better to do with their lives then prepare to die for their country. You appreciated anyone in the military of course, and you understand it was necessary, but growing up watching your dad fall apart made you hate it. Every time he would put himself back together only to fall apart again. He was a military dad stereotype when it came to his protectiveness and worry, but you had to hear and watch the real aftermath of what his life had done to him.
It was the weekend and you were going to work with your dad. Not in a bonding type of way, but you had gotten busted for sneaking out and he didn’t trust you to be home alone by yourself for the day. You sat in silence in the car on the way to the military school you had never once visited, or had any desire to.
“You know I’m bringing you with me because I care about you. I don’t want you going any further down this path you want to take.” Your dad said breaking the silence for the first time in the twenty minute ride.
“Me going to work with you for a day won’t change my life. Only gonna make me want to go further down that path to get away from you.” You retort, still angry with him for his large absence in your lonely childhood. He just sighs, knowing he can’t win with his military man attitude vs your angry teenage girl attitude. You leaned your head against the window and scrolled through your phone and checked on various social medias. You watched as your dad reached for the air conditioner button and turned it up more. You were already cold in your dress, so you immediately turned the knob the opposite direction after his hand returned to the wheel. From the corner of your eye you saw him glance over at you and shake his head slightly. You rolled your eyes and dropped your phone into your lap. You fumbled with the edge of your dress until you pulled up to the gates of the school.