#vintage christmas bulbs

[oldfarmhouse]

𝐎𝐧 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞🥳🧡𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐛𝐬

𝗁𝗍𝗍𝗉s://instagram.com/whiteflowerfarmhouse

[machetelanding]

Salesman's suitcase of Christmas light bulbs (1960s)

[vintageadsmakemehappy]

1951 Westinghouse Christmas Bulbs

[misforgotten2]

I guess the background images look like that is because Mr. Magoo is nearly blind. How insensitive.

American Home  December 1963

[johnthestitcher]

Unusual find - a 1960′s light bulb salesman’s case. Interesting!

[yagodichjagodic]

Christmas ornament I made

[mundaily]

December 8, 2023 | 342/365 - You’re a star

[micondesigns]

Watercolor Hanging Light Bulb Clipart PNG Transparent Sublimation Designs, Colourful String Lights, Vintage Light Bulbs, Christmas Lights

[simsphonysims]

Simsphony’s CC LIST - complete

Hi everybody!

The list of CC LINKS from all the creators and packs that I have in my game is something that I wanted to do for the longest time but I've never quite had the time to do it.

So I finally decided to do it for you no matter what and here it is! 

From now on you'll be able to find all of my cc here on this list. If I add something to my game I'm going to upload the list, and if I'm using something just once, I'll include the link from that cc in a regular post separately.

Anyways! I'm hoping your life is going to be much easier now!

If you like my work please be so kind and support me on Ko-fi ♡

Love you all and happy simming!  

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[garfield-mug]

Lights

A/N: Written for Liz's (@sailor-aviator) Christmas Challenge! There was too much shit happening the past few weeks for me to write full fics, so please enjoy these fluffy headcanons instead!

Pairing: Bob Floyd x fem!Reader

Word: Lights

Warnings: none

bob did really enjoy christmas.

since he was little, it had been his favorite holiday. he enjoyed the presents and cookies and seeing extended family, sure, but his absolute favorite part about christmas were the lights.

every year on christmas eve, him and his siblings would pile into the car with their parents and slowly drive through the streets of a few different neighborhoods in town to see the lights.

some houses had no lights, others changed out their porch lights to bulbs of red and green. a few were completely decked out, strings of vibrant, dazzling lights from rooftop to driveway, all blinking in time to whatever christmas song was playing at the time. if little bob had to guess, he'd say those people had miles and miles of string lights wrapping their homes (as an adult, he can't comprehend the sheer cost of their electric bill). there was one house that had a lawn completely filled with different blow-up lawn ornaments. bob didn't really like that one, he thought it was much too busy.

his favorite house, by far, every year was a one story cape cod. it wasn't the most flashy, it didn't have all the bells and whistles. the trim of the roof and the pillar supporting it over the front porch were lined with soft, delicate vintage bulbs, casting a soft yellow glow across the drive and front yard. it was simple in its beauty. it was like the house knew (and the people living in it) that it didn't need to be bright and flashy to be beautiful. bob thought it was absolutely enchanting.

he found his mind drifting back to that house every christmas after he moved away and joined the navy, forever at the beck and call of uncle sam.

he pictured that house when he was on long deployments and craved a moment of peace and quiet. a tranquil winter scene played out before him: the golden glow of the lights gently washing over him as he closed his eyes, leaning into the feeling of the chilled air around him, enjoying the serene silence that winter brought every year.

when he opened his eyes, he was back on the aircraft carrier, but he was also a touch calmer, a touch more grounded.

it's a lot like how bob felt after he met you.

one fateful day during fleet week, and one guided tour later, bob landed your number and a date.

thankfully, it worked out and now you're coming up on your second christmas together.

you knew bob loved the christmas lights every year, and you had every intention of going all out in your apartment, but things just did not go your way.

life was life-ing.

work was extra busy in the weeks leading up to the holiday. longer hours meant less time to do things around the house and more time to dwell on how things weren't going how you planned.

you somehow managed to get the tree up just in time for your next date night, lights on, and ornaments in a bin for you and bob to put on together.

despite all the last minute decorating, you still didn't find yourself in a particularly festive mood.

frustrated, a little bit sad, and a lot exhausted, you decided to lie down on the floor, head under the tree. bleary eyes looked up through the fake branches, watching the vintage bulbs twinkle and sparkle.

so lost in your thoughts, you didn't hear bob come through the door and call your name.

"honey?" he calls again, confused, as he walks into the living area.

bob didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't his girlfriend lying on the floor with her head under the tree. a bit of a strange sight, but a smile spreads across his lips as he watches you for a moment. he knows this time of year can be tough on you.

he shrugs off his jacket and makes his way over to your spot on the floor, taking your lead as he lays beside you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"what are we doing?" he asks, voice soft and sweet as he turns to face you.

"lights." you vaguely gesture to the tree above your heads.

"lights?"

"lights."

you grab his hand and lace your fingers together.

[wildbeautifuldamned]

Working Vintage Figural Lantern Street Lamp Light Bulb Glass Christmas Ornament ebay Studio23a

[misforgotten2]

The blind leading the blind.

American Home  December 1963

[lexa-griffins]

When do farm clexa put up their Christmas tree? Every year, their youngest gets to put the star on top so this year it's little Aden's first time

Usually, the day after Thanksgiving is when they put up the christmas tree! It's like an extension of the holiday!

They usually go and pick the tree in the morning, Lexa's parents and Clarke's parents come over and they eat the leftovers before it's time to bring out the christmas decor and get the whole thing started. Aden napping on grandpa Jake's lap while Clarke and Lexa's dad get the tree im place (it's always a little too big for their living room and makes it hard to walk around for a whole month but it just looks too good and they have so many decorations to put on it).

There's the old christmas vinyl playing, there's tea and hot cocoa on the coffee table as well as the rest of the pumpkin pie and apple pie, every "baby [name] first Christmas [year]" tree decoration is out, christmas lights, tensile and bulbs, all different ones Lexa found at the farmers market, the handmade ones from the kids and clexa, the ones they were gifted and the ons they bought because why not?

It's such a cheery day. The kids love putting up the tree, and they each picked a pretty thing to hang - the pretty bird Madi found at the thrift shop, the beautiful ballerina Saige begged Lexa to help turn into an ornament, the christmas witch Willow made, the jolly Santa Skie found so funny and the sparkling angel Aden couldn't stop looking at. The sculped family of carolers Abby got them, the beautiful vintage collection of bulbs Lexa's mom inherited and that Lexa always found magical, the carved snowman Clarke did, and everything else.

And then, right as they are about to complete the tree, Aden sturs awake in his granpa's arms as Lexa softly collects him in her arms and asks him if he wants to put up the star on the tree. At only three years old, Aden nods with excitment and Lexa helps him hold the star as his siblings stare at him. Clarke moves behind Lexa, a hand on her wife’s hip and another on Aden's back. Lexa lifts Aden higher, making sure he can reach and he very carefully places the star that Lexa makes sure is in place before her lets go.

And just like that, their little Christmas tree is complete as Lexa's dad and Clarke's dad gather the kids around for a few Christmas stories by the twinkly lights of it ☺️✨️

[mundaily]

December 7, 2023 | 341/365 - You light up my life

[slippinmickeys]

Such a fun writers workshop tonight! Thank you @audiofanficpod! Missing @frangipanidownunder and all other participants of the past. Hope to see you at the next one. Posting my response to prompts tonight, in hopes of maintaining momentum.

The first:

“Pick a key,” Mulder said, setting two keys of similar profiles in front of her.

They were thick and ancient, with a patina that had probably been earned. They looked so old – practically antediluvian – that she thought briefly that if the locks they unbolted survived, the doors they had protected probably had not. Nevertheless, she placed a finger lightly on the more aged of the two, sliding the old passe-partout away from her and towards her partner. The metal was cold on her skin, dense and dinged up; it looked like he’d pulled it out of the mote of an old castle, or unearthed it from an Ionian’s grave.

“I don’t think I want to know what this is to,” she said, flitting her eyes quickly to his.

“If I said ‘my heart’ would it engender affection or rage?”

“Vexation, probably.” She rolled the tip of her tongue over the inside of her cheek.

“Okay, then. I’ll just stick with my original plan.” He pocketed the other key, and then slid the one she’d chosen into the pocket at the front of her shirt. It didn’t fit in all the way, and pulled at the loose material, the metal heavy and thick.

“Which is?”

“Get in the car and find out.”

“Is this because I got you a book?” She watched as his nostrils flared in irritation. It was always kind of fun to rile him.

“Get in the car, Scully.”

She obeyed obediently, and soon they were out of the city, sloshing down the parkway which was choked with gray slush and into farm country past McLean, where the snow was laid out in fields of unending white.

Mulder pulled into a driveway that ended at a big red barn, and he killed the ignition once they reached its zenith. He pointed to a small door tucked into one corner.

“You’re going to need your key,” he said.

“This is my Christmas present?” she asked, and his only answer was to once again point to where she needed to go, silent as Scrooge’s third ghost.

Outside the car, the air seemed thin, cold. Her breath in front of her like steam; reedy and short. She pulled the key out skeptically, though the door’s lock seemed a perfect, hoary match. She inserted the key, wiggled it around. The mechanisms inside, probably numbering two total, clicked into place with only a minimal effort.

The door creaked open into the dark cold of the barn, the heady smell of hay laying low in the winter air. Mulder found a light switch just inside and a single bulb shone down like a spotlight on an old flywheeler that squatted on a packed dirt floor, a workshop bench crowded with greenish jars filled with nails and screws. There were the dulled farming implements of a bygone era; a scythe, a broadfork, a hand plow. There was vintage tack hanging from hooks on the wall; the bits turned black, the leather wearing away.

“Come on,” he said quietly, pulling at her sleeve. There was light coming from the space on the other end of the barn, past shelving units and pony walls. It wasn’t exactly quiet either, not like Scully expected it to be. There was something up ahead. A presence. If it was a ghost, she’d wring Mulder’s damn neck.

They shuffled through the space on silent feet, the dirt floor packed and dry, a little uneven. Only when they got a bit closer to the light did she pick up on quiet, horsey sounds; the stamp of a hoof on straw, a soft nicker. Her hand reached out of its own accord and grabbed Mulder’s.

And then there it was: the snowiest, whitest horse she had ever seen in her life. Its coat was as pure as a snow drift, muscles rippling over its substantial frame. It turned to them when they walked into the small area outside its stall, its head bobbing up, sniffing the air, probably hoping they had brought it an apple, a carrot. It blinked at them slowly with the longest, whitest eyelashes Scully had ever beheld.

She gave a sharp intake of breath. “Oh…”

The moment held a quiet, magical quality, as if all the angels had stopped to listen, had turned their eyes toward Mulder and Scully and this pure white horse.

“This,” Mulder said, his voice low, “is Sailor. And if you’re game, he’s going to take us on a sleigh ride.”