tall lamps

what certain musicals remind me of (part 1):
  • dear evan hansen: the smell of my vocal coach's perfume, shades of blue, clean white kitchen counters, new york city at night, sobbing at the final performance during bows and taking off your shoes and dancing in a lake, the water lapping around your ankles.
  • hamilton: old books, holding hands with someone you love and laughing with them, cast parties, busy streets full of happy people, the sound of boots clicking on pavement, and black lace.
  • bye bye birdie: staying up late on skype with your internet friends, hugging, cute short boys, cute tall girls,street lamps and first times.
  • grease: dancing for hours and hours, laying on the back of your s/o's car all sweaty and exhausted, cherry coke, lipstick, fingers that always need something to hold, loud music, and late night carnival trips.
  • la la land: stars, dropping coffee on yourself, warm nights, summer, movie dates, holding hands, talking about your dreams for hours, soft lighting, not a drop of sexual tension, and peppermint gum.

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The night was long and still young. Chris had taken me to a little pub where we both had a couple of beers and talked about our families. It was the best bonding experience of my life. After a lovely, endearing, deep conversation. We both had a chugging contest. Surprisingly, I won. I will most definitely regret it later.

We didn’t get drunk, shit faced, annihilated. We both had a harmless light buzz. Very harmless.

Chris has my youth and keeps it alive.

“Come on (Y/N/N)! Sit, I’ll push you!” Chris runs over to a swing set, nearly slipping on slush. As soon as he reaches the chained swing, he turns to me. It’s 2 am. Only one tall street lamp illuminates the small area.

“It’s probably wet! No!” I stand a few feet away from him. My hands tucked deep into my Cotten sweater, my breath dances away from my nostrils and mouth.

“No, it’s not!” Chris wipes his hand across the rubber seat. He then lifts his hand in the air. “See! Dry!”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Fineeeee…” I take hesitant strides toward him, the ice glazing the ground sits in layers.

“There you go. Take a seat.” He says, lifting his arm away from his body, pointing toward the swing.

I walk over the wood chip chunks, taking a seat. My small hands grip onto the bone-chilling chain that holds the swing.

“And… Here we go…” Chris mutters in my right ear, his hands dance across my back, finding their place just below my shoulder blades.

He gives me a light shove on my upper back.

The swing glides forward, releasing a squeak from the joints. The swing glides, but not far.

Chris keeps his pushes light, not sending me far. It was a comfortable, consistent glide that kept him and I giggling every time.

“I feel like a child again.” I exasperate, letting my feet swing in and out, lightly. He hums.

“Hey, do you know what happened to Sebastian?” He states as if he something is wrong. Immediately I dig my heels into the wood chips and frosty dirt, leaving two mounds of mixed pine behind my heels.

I balance off the rubber seat and turn toward him. “What happened?!” I say worriedly. Sebastian is my best friend. My heart palpitates’s against my chest.

“Oh! I don’t know. I was just asking. I haven’t seen him around…” Chris’ arms hangout from his jacket pockets, shrugging with his body.

“You ass! I thought you knew something! You had me worried!” I grip onto my chest looking at the ground. A little bundle of snow sits around the radius of the Swing’s pole. Why not take a shot and throw it at him. A flirty, childish gesture. Although my mind was telling me not to and he won’t like it, my heart argues against that.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N/N)!” He laughs, not knowing what’s coming.

With my bare, warm hands I lean over and pick up the snow, forming a small ball. The ice burning at my fingertips and under my nails.

“What are y–”

I throw the mini ball of ice at his left shoulder. He lifts his forearm to cover his face, his other arm lifting away with the gesture. The snow that had made an impact with his shoulder falls off, just a bit of ice sitting in the crease of his jacket.

“You’re asking for it!” Chris runs off to the mound of grass, blanketed by snow. Untouched by human hands.

“You’re on!” I run past the swing set to the Grass patch that Chris stands on. I cut across the mound of blanketed green, wanting to hide behind a tree.

The tall pine tree could be a beloved shield.

I felt the sudden impact of pure ice on my left hip. A numbing pain of bitter, frigid, raw snow melts to the heat my body gives off. I stop in the snowy tracks to gaze down at the impact; bad idea. Another snowball obliterates on the top of my head.

Now, I have a new idea. The hit on the head gave me the bright light bulb.

“Ow!” I grip the crown of my head, the snow had already melted. My fingertips rest atop the water.

I over dramatize the pain by falling to the ground… Again… stupid idea. Now my whole body was chilled and soaked.

“Oh my god! Lauren! I’m sorry!” Chris yelps, oblivious to my stupefied plan.

I hear his hesitant running footsteps crunch across the dense snow. His heavy breathing draws closer.

“You okay!?” Immediately he takes a knee beside me.

A smirk draws on my lips. I clinch a bundle of snow in my right hand; a death grip. With the numbing condensation in my hand, I shove another it on his temple.

The force of my hand pushing him back into the snow. “Gah! (Y/N)!” He chuckles. Without thinking I continue and straddle him. My weight bearing him to the ground. My bottom presses down on his waist. My left and right resting on both side of his body.

Chris’ breathing is rapid. His chest rises and falls heavily. “You are absolutely crazy…” He huffs.

“You know you are too! Don’t lie to yourself!” I giggle, looking down at the broad man I have pinned.

He lightly hums with a heart-wrenching smile. A soft, gentle smirk.

Here’s that moment again. That moment of gazing. Getting lost in each other’s eyes. Occupying each other’s vision, not anyone else’s.

Chris lifts his hand to my left cheek, his thumb caressing the bone. My cheeks once cold, boils hot. But I press against his hand, leaning into his touch. 

Now… This feeling is a new sensation. I crave more of it. I want his touch in differents areas. Down my back, along the muscles of my thighs, through my hair roughly.

His touch. His caress. That’s all I wanted. That’s all I craved for. Any little bump, shuffle and push created hunger in my heart. Bump into me harder. Shuffle past me longer, push me farther.

After a moment of this action, we both realize our situation. “Um! Right! It’s late, I’ll take you home…” Chris’ hand pulls away, leaving my cheek numb again. And for a moment, I wasn’t numb.

“Right… I’ll help you up…” I whisper, deplorably. I push off the ground, offering my hand. He takes it generously.

“Sorry about that. You’re soaked…” I scratch the back of my neck walking beside him.

“It’s alright, it was time well spent.”


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March 24 and 25, mark the two main days of the Chamaya-vilakku crossdressing festival in Chavara, India (Kerala). It is the first of four major crossdressing festivals held in India during the vasanta or spring season and occurs on the tenth and eleventh nights after the Mina-sankranti. The Chamaya-vilakku festival is held at the Kottankulangara temple in Kerala. For two nights during the month of Chaitra, thousands of men of all types dress up as women and offer themselves to Sri Bhagavati-devi, an expansion of the goddess Durga. In a special ceremony called Chamaya-vilakku, women and crossdressing men grasp tall, lighted lamps and wait for the procession of the goddess in the form of a sila or stone to pass by. The goddess Bhagavati then blesses the pilgrims and showers all good fortune upon them. The crossdressing festival is based on a story surrounding the temple’s origin: Long ago, a group of cowherd boys worshiped a stone in the mood of shy, young girls. After some time, the goddess Bhagavati personally appeared before them to accept their worship and become the stone. The Kottankulangara temple was then constructed to house the stone deity and formal worship was commenced, along with the annual festival. The Chamaya-vilakku celebrations are very well organized; the crossdressing men are registered at the temple and makeup, dresses, wigs and jewelry are all available for rent on site.

What's up with Dean's bedroom?

Since I posted this about Dean’s bedroom (and read everybody else’s comments), I’ve become a little bit obsessed with the subject. So I decided to do this: 

I present you Dean’s bedroom in 8x16:  

You can see the tall lamp to the left and no left nightstand. 

In that episode, Dean sat on the left side of the bed while praying to Castiel. It’s the only time we’ve seen him favor that side of the bed. 

We see Dean’s bedroom again in 9x04 with very little changes. 

Still no left nightstand. And the tall lamp is still there, as you can see here:

Then, something must have happened between 9x04 and 9x14 because, suddently, Dean decided that he needed a left nightstand (and he also decided that he could easily lie on just one side of the bed and leave the rest unoccupied).

I’m not going to remind you all that the fanfiction gap happened in 9x06, that Dean looked wistful (as described by the Supernatural Wiki) when he said “always the adios” in 9x08, or that he was ready to come clean to Sam at the end of that episode, but fake!Ezekiel didn’t let him. I’m not even going to bring to attention that according to the dictionary ‘wistful’ means: “Having or showing a feeling of vague or regretful longing”. 

I’m a good person, so I’m not going to mention any of that. *pure sarcasm*

I have a very shippy theory, though. Some time after 9x06 and before 9x09, Dean put the extra nightstand, hoping against hope, that someone (a certain angel that was human at the time), was going to use it one day. 

However, Castiel became an angel again in 9x09. At the end of that episode Kevin died (no, God, no!), and in 9x10 Cas got to the Bunker as soon as Dean called. There was very little time frame between Dean finding out that Cas was an angel again (in 9x09) and everything that happened afterward. In episode 9x10, they took care of Gadreel’s possession of Sam, and at the end of the episode, Dean left Sam and Cas. In 9x11, Dean was not in the Bunker (he spent the episode with Crowley). Neither was he there in 9x12 (the Garth episode). Dean was back home in 9x13, but the tension between the brothers was obvious and they pretty much spent all their time focused on the new case. At the very beginning of 9x14, we saw Dean’s bedroom with the two nightstands. Due to everything that happened, I don’t think Dean had time to be disappointed enough to rearrange the furtniture in his bedroom.

However, sometime between 9x14 and 9x23, his bedroom went back to normal.

No left nightstand and the tall lamp was there again.

 But at least the bed was still Dean’s

 In season 10, we could see Dean’s bedroom the same way it was at the end of season 9. His bed was still the same in 10x03:

No left nightstand

And the tall lamp there (notice Dean cleaning up the side of the bed he kind of associates with Cas when Cas is in the room). 

And that’s how we end up in 10x10, with a very strange bed, but the same decoration Dean’s had since season 8:

The only episode in which Dean had an extra nightstand was 9x14 and it was NOT an accident. 

The episode aired on February 25, 2014 and was directed by Jerry Wanek (x)

And it was Jerry Wanek himself who said that it was deliberate (x)

So, yeah… I really think I’m obsessed with Dean’s bedroom, but I’m not even sorry about it. There’s a silent story being told that I’m enjoying a lot. 

Imagine Sam and Dean running into you on a hunt; a homeless girl curled up on the streets.

Originally posted by illumeenate

The cold winter air was at least five below and the wind didn’t help any, but the Winchester brothers kept on with the hunt, shivering bodies and all. After all, this was part of the job no matter how much they disliked it. Toughing it out was something they had learned to do, and they would have to apply this skill for this case.

As they walked down the street lit by tall street lamps, the wind began to pick up even more and everyone seemed to be rushing to get to their destination to escape the biting cold. That was when they saw a slumped over figure in torn clothing, the snow building up on its side. Clueless to who would be crazy enough to be outside today, they decided to go investigate and what they saw caused their hearts to shatter. A young girl fast asleep. She was nothing but skin and bones with the skin tone that blended with the falling snow.

“Um, ma'am?” Dean asked as he shook you gently once he saw there wasn’t any movement. “Ma'am?” You awoke with a jerk, bringing your frozen blanket to your chin. “Are you okay?”

“F-fine. Thanks for asking.”

“Do you have some where to go? It’s freezing out here.” Sam questioned.

You simply shook your head and laid back against the stone wall. “Haven’t had any where to go since I was little. My folks were killed and I was left.”

“Can we drive you some where? Maybe the mission down the road? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind to help you-”

“Man, can't you just leave me alone?!” You snapped, feeling your heart beat slow down to that fatal pace once again…. “I was almost home…”


Based off of this song: Almost home By Craig Morgan

The Signs as Lamps

Aries: The leg lamp from A Christmas Story

Taurus: A Lava lamp

Gemini: A modern, Square-ish lamp

Cancer: The Classic little lamp shade lamp

Leo: The type of lamp where you clap and it turns on

Virgo: That kind of lamp with a floral lampshade that i feel like every older person has

Libra: The super tall lamp that people hide behind during hide and seek

Scorpio: The hockey stick lamp from Inside Out

Sagittarius: A street light

Capricorn: Tetris Lamp

Aquarius: Night light

Pisces: A touch lamp, It turns on when you touch it

Just Dating Chapter 5

AO3 / FF

In the rush of working fifty or more hours a week, helping her best friend plan his proposal, and managing a newly blooming social life, Annabeth’s stack of books-to-read and favorite reading chair have become sorely missed. The call of an evening in, curled into the soft siding of a wingback chair with her legs tucked under her and holding her latest read gets the better of her and she finally gives in on Friday night.

Her chair is pushed into the corner of her living room under the window with the best lighting. A tall brass posted lamp sits as close to her chair as the cord will reach and pours light over the pages on days when the clouds blot out the sun or nights like this when it’s slipped past the rooftops to create a pseudo-sunset which turns her apartment a golden pink. It’s this lighting that makes the faded, threadbare carpet and ancient faucets worth living with, but it’s nearly useless for reading.

So her lamp hums just above her head and fights back against the waning light while she sucks in page after page. Her right hand holds open her book and her left cups a fresh mug of tea, the perfect combination to round off a cozy night in. She’s lost in the story when the phone on her side table rattles violently and shatters the illusion. Annabeth spares a quick glance to see if it’s important enough to put her book down and sees the text alert. If it’s important enough they’ll call, she tells herself and resumes her diversion.

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my GOD my friend broke my light so ive been using a tall lamp that i got from downstairs and i just got up to go find my phone charger because its downstairs and my phone died and i knOCKED OVER THE LAMP AND IT BROKE SO NOW I HAVE NO LIGHT AND NO LAMP AND A DEAD PHONE SO NO FLASHLIGHT AND ON TOP OF ALL THAT I HAVE TO FIND MY CHARGER AND THEN SOMEHOW PLUG IT INTO THE CHARGER SOCKET IN MY PITCH BLACK ROOM……………….WTF