#down to the office decor

[banana-together]

just thinking about house. just thinking about house and wilson's offices and how their decor choices reflect how they display themselves.

just thinking about how house keeps all sorts of random crap lying around his office: his guitar, his lacrosse balls, random antique-looking pieces, little trinkets. stuff to play with. he's always fidgeting or trying to master new skills like the juggling and playing lacrosse with his cane on the wall. he does it loud and obviously like with the guitar and his music on the radio. he wants his items to be seen as personal, as the things that make him up. he displays them so loudly so everyone knows that through being the best at what he does, he's earned the right to be himself as loudly as he wants. to do whatever he wants. it means he makes the right choice by sacrificing relationships, human connection, niceties, because now no one stops him from being 'free'. it's a performance to convince himself that it's all worth it.

just thinking about how wilson keeps a pretty neat office, but the 'personal' items he keeps around as decor are mostly gifts from patients. he struggles to put things around that represent himself, so he represents his relationships with his patients instead. he shows off how caring and connected he is, but doesn't show much about himself at all. he displays them to prove to himself that as long as he has all these relationships, he doesn't need a 'self'. it's a performance to convince himself it's all worth it.

tl:dr- house displays his 'self' to prove he doesn't need relationships, and wilson displays his relationships to prove he doesn't need a 'self'.

[sunnysssol]

I think Alfred likes pretty much all the holidays, but he's definitely a "Thanksgiving first, then Christmas!" type of person. Suzie on the other hand is already wishing people a "Happy [insert holiday here]" and putting a small plush turkey/Christmas tree on her desk as soon as leaves start turning brown

[labellenouvelle]

NOLA NOLA NOLA

A vintage and hard to find ( this is only the 3rd we are offering in 20 years ) huge pull down map of Metropolitan New Orleans, with original pull down mechanism in working shape. Great colors and graphics. Comes with original fabric ruler to measure distances from one point to the other , this was most likely used by a company to schedule and organize deliveries . Great wall hanger. Item No. E5689 Dimensions: 6 ft wide x 53″ tall approx. SOLD

504.581.3733 / t

info@labellenouvelle.com / e

[sysig]

They need long hair, and to put it in a bow! (Patreon)

[akaluan]

Tanya the Evil always gives me Emotions when I try to read it, which does make it harder to get thru each book despite how much I love it, but I think I've made a Mistake by trying to read it while listening to Sabaton's "The War to End All Wars" album.

Y'all, I hit the song Versailles while reading Tanya's internal monologue about the cost of war while she was in the mop up of Operation Lock Pick. Y'ALL, when I say I had Too Many Emotions to continue reading, especially while on an airplane surrounded by strangers, I mean I had SO MANY EMOTIONS.

[quietwingsinthesky]

it’s running concurrent to my headcanon that. well. the universe is so lacking in constants for the doctor, and if it’s after he’s experienced the loss of a companion, he’s not going to go have tea with someone else he once travelled with and had to leave behind.

it just makes sense to me, that he’d go seek out the master. especially if he’s barely restraining himself from making bad choices about breaking fixed points in time and causing paradoxes. and he’s right there, playing harold saxon for the world to see, and he’s right. there. the doctor can just go and see him whenever he wants.

[piratingconstellations]

virgin imperial uniforms vs chad chiss defense fleet uniforms

[inchwormy]

had a dream that my friend wanted to decorate her house as scary as possible so she hung up one of those zombie-girl-on-a-swing decorations but having too scary of a house was against the law so this scariness regulation officer showed up and shot it

[soupcrouton]

Hmmm i lowkey hate my job

[tobiasdrake]

Like, getting political for a moment. A thing a lot of people need to understand is that, ultimately, rules only exist if they are enforceable. The mechanism of enforcement is what determines the realness of a rule.

If you're playing Monopoly and you decide that being in Jail sucks so you move your piece to Go and call it a tunneling loophole, there's nothing built into the game to actually stop you from doing that. Other players yelling at you and banishing you from the table is how the rule is enforced. But if they don't, if they let you do that, then I'm sorry but that's just how the game is played now. If you're allowed to do it then it's not against the rules.

We all instinctively understand that when you're running track, you're not supposed to cross the lines into someone else's lane. But the lines are not a wall. They're not physically preventing you from doing anything. If you decide you want to run into the lane to your right and jump-kick the other racer, you physically can do that.

The line on the ground is a social construct. It's part of the magic circle; A thing that takes on special meaning, even psychological power, so long as we exist within its play space. But it's not real, and it only has power if somebody comes over and drags you off the field for striking that other racer.

At the highest echelons of power, a lot of what "can" and "can't" be done are actually just the boundaries of a magic circle with few real enforcement mechanisms. The President can't do that. But. Like. Who's going to stop him if he does?

The biggest thing we learned during the Trump Presidency was just how many restrictions on government power are illusory. Trump spent his four years in office testing the limits of what he can and can't do. Stepping over the lines of the magic circle to see which ones had enforcement mechanisms and which were merely decorative. And revealing that an alarming number were decorative.

Because the thing about the highest offices, about POTUS and SCOTUS and Congress, is that they're the highest offices. There's nobody above them. The only check on their power is each other and, contrary to what high school social studies might tell you, those checks aren't very strong at all.

Trump wants to redefine the game rules to be dictatorial. The magic circle says he can't do that. But the only factor that truly decides whether he can or can't is whether the other players at the table will let him do it. And if you listen to the way Republican Congressmen talk, it's not reassuring.

There are no executive super-cops who will arrest Trump if he breaks the rules. The Avengers are not going to show up and stop him from continuing to reconfigure the magic circle to his liking. The only thing, the only true restriction on his power, is the vote. It's the fact that we, as a population, get to make a choice as to whether or not he even gets to sit back down at the table to play again at all.

In a democracy, voters are the enforcement mechanism. Let's try and remember that when November comes around.

[dezinomania]

(via "OH NO!!!!!" Mouse Pad for Sale by DEZINOMANIA)

[carebearbussy]

ᥫ᭡ imagining heian era! sukuna tending to his pregnant wife, and slowly warming up to having a child.

౨ৎ when he finds out you are pregnant, he goes full 'nonchalant, but worried husband' mode. he did not want kids. he thought they were lousy and annoying, and they would not bring any use to his bloodline. he told you that this would just get in his way, and that you should find a way to get rid of it. but the way you looked up at him with your adorable dazzling eyes? eh, he could make it work, just for you. but he found it hard to warm up to the idea of having children.

౨ৎ hires the best of the best to guarantee your health is in tact. doctors? you will have daily checkups, which included the doctor coming to the estate, and keeping track of your daily prgress while you are bedside. such as seeing if the baby is kicking, how large your stomach grows, and even recommending you a special diet to hold the nutrients for your baby. he is doing all of this for you, not that pesky baby. handmaidens? they will double in number. you are more fragile than ever, and in his eyes, you need all of the female support you can get that he cannot provide.

౨ৎ would host a grand babyshower. there would be hundreds, even thousands of guests at your babyshower. it would be hosted somewhere with a large, outside venue, bustling with people coming to support you. people would give you their blessings, hoping the best for the newcoming ryomen. gifts for the baby such as clothes, furniture, etc. and for you? people will gift you a plethora of things. jewelry, trinkets, and everything under the sun. the citizens of the nearby villages will bow to your feet, wishing you the best. your pregnancy will be treated as an event. around the villages, it will be talked about.

౨ৎ makes a extravagant nursery for your child. it will be in a large room, making extra space for your baby. sukuna will notice you spend alot of time there, watching you decorate the nursery to your pleasing day by day. liked seeing you struggle to put the furniture together, as you are forced to ask him for help, as you watch his assemble a bassinette. you could tell he was starting to get used to the idea of having a child around the estate. as you list off all of your ideas for how you would decorate, he liked to think you might be a suitable mother.

౨ৎ you held a giant journal of names, keeping track of each one as time goes by. you wrote in the journal with an ink pen, sometimes even letting sukuna in on the name choosing. as you sat on his lap in his large office, he would suggest 'little roach', or 'annoying brat' for some of the names, which was quickly shut down. you will think intently upon each name, asking sukuna on his opinion. sukuna thinks he should be the one naming the child, but with his suggestions, that will not be happening. you'd be better off asking some of your handmaidens for advice.

౨ৎ would ask any ladies in the estate for advice as well. this is something he thought he would never have to do. but he finds it difficult to ajust to your pregnancy, due to your influx in hormones, making you seem emotional all the time. would ask your handmaidens why you become so emotional, but they seem offended with the way he worded it. but they realize that sukuna is naturally brash, so they help him by giving him tips and tricks for fatherhood. he tries his best, mostly caring about what he thinks is best for you, not so much your child.

౨ৎ liked looking at your stomach more often than he thought he would. he never knew you would look so goddamn cute swollen with his child, but here he was, watching as you lay in bed, reading a book of poems, as he sees his future child kicking inside your uterus. you child was larger than an average one, he noticed, due to his abnormal genes. placing his large hand over your stomach, he could feel every single kick, asking you questions as it happens. "why does this brat kick so much? tell him to stop." "kuna, hes a baby..." "i do not care, he needs to learn to stop being so restless."

౨ৎ your delivery will send him into internal panic. he demands that he is in the room with you, holding your hand. but your large group of handmaidens by your side strongly disagree, reccomending that he let you be. but making sure you were okay was his top priority, so he stayed in the large bedroom where you gave birth. your head and body would be covered in towels, your hands tightly cuffing your handmaidens. it was extremely painful, as your screams could be heard from afar. but with the way sukuna had rubbed his thumb on your cheek, it made you feel slightly better. after you, he would be the first to hold your child, demanding so himself.

౨ৎ he wants a boy, 100%. he is hoping for a strong heir that can add onto his legacy, even though it isnt entirely necessary. if he ends up having a son, he will teach him the ways of manhood. teaching him how to hunt his own humans, how to properly court a lady (in his mind), and how to become as strong as him someday. and most of all, how to take care of his mother. he will not tolerate any disrespect towards you. he will call his son names like 'ryomen 2.0', or 'annoying rat'.

౨ৎ but if he gets a girl? he will be upset when he finds out. but he will come around to love her after quite a while. will go from calling her a nuisance, to hosting mini tea parties with her stuffed animals which were gifted by her auntie handmaidens, squeezing himself into a small chair at a small dining table with fake tea and pastries. he will truly care for his daughter, and will become extremely overprotective over her. he will call her 'little princess', or 'spoiled brat'.

౨ৎ enjoys watching you tend to your children. he secretly enjoyed the fact that he could call you 'the mother of his children'. being domestic with you is something he had never imagined in his life, but here he was, burping your small newborn over his shoulder with one hand. he likes to see the way your eyes light up when your child walks for the first time, or when they say their first words. he doesnt think it is important, but since its you, he doesnt say anything. "woman, what are you freaking out over?" "come quick! he just said 'papa'!" "i knew it, thats my child alright."

౨ৎ but he will absolutely refuse to change the babys diapers. do not ever ask him to do that, he will very rudely decline. bu dont worry. like everything else, he will come around to do so.

[bonesmarinated]

NCR trooper having Christmas meal back home in New Cali. The tiny mess room was decorated in style. A green wreath hung at one end as a Christmas tree. The tables were loaded with food, they have fried chicken (poultry raised under NCR 'Food for Defense' program) hardtacks, pea soup, mash potatoes, cream chipped gecko on toast. The hardtack were soggy and moldy usually because of bad storage and ones infested with maggots, and weevils, but they didn’t mind that. That one night officers and troopers had their mess together. It was rather close quarters. They had a crew of four officers and thirty-two troopers, it was no dress affair. No fish and soup as you call them. In short, there were many drawbacks, but good spirits were not one of them. In the tight, overcrowded little mess room they ate and talked. The meal was washed down with potato coffee mixed with rum, and they lost count of the number of toasts that were drunk.

[thenorthwomanwitch]

I just panic-woke up from a dream I worked a regularass office job and was dressed up for the holidays and I was in the bathroom spitting out my coworkers peppermint treat bcuz as I chewed it, it grew and the hard part shattered and I started choking and my middle school crush walked in on me spewing peppermint into the toilet.

[writersdrug]

Price getting reader a step stool cause she keeps asking Bartender!Ghost to reach stuff for her. Simon obviously brakes it when no ones looking. 👀🤭

LOL

"Is this your way of insulting me?" You ask, holding the colorful, children's stepstool in your hands. You're grimacing at it, a look that has Price chuckling as he folds up the bag from the store.

"I figured you could use it - now ya don't have to wait for Simon to grab anything for you." He says, patting you on the shoulder.

"I don't mind the wait..." You mumble under your breath. The stool feels as decorative as a clowns nose as you tuck it under your arm and head towards the stairs. "I'm keeping it upstairs, I don't need customers laughing at me when I pull this out. Might take it home and spray paint it."

"Suit yourself." Price calls as you bound up the stairs. He heads over to the bar, where Simon is currently polishing the glasses you convinced him to order for the Halloween drink.

"Got a problem with me helpin' 'er?" Simon says, thick fingers rubbing the glass with a rag. He doesn't mean to sound defensive... but he can't help the bite in his tone.

Price smirks, picking up on the jealousy laced into Simon's words. "Thought you might like it. Makes your life easier, and 'ers." He pops open the register and starts filtering through the bills, replacing the larger value ones with smaller ones.

"You don't think I'm capable of runnin' a bar and helping you waitress at the same time?"

"No, but I think you'd be better off if you didn't have to run so much. She's brought in so much business as it is, your workload's gotten heavier."

Simon huffs. "Ya just want to separate us, hm? Want 'er all to yourself." He jokes, grabbing another glass and buffing it.

Price shrugs. "And if I am?" He says, giving him a side glance.

Ghost slows his ministrations, turning his head to his captain. They both stare at each other for a moment, Simon with his slightly angry, slightly questioning glare, and Price with his unwavering eyes. Simon wants to tell him to back down, that you're his - but he can't say that, because you aren't his. He wants you to be. But he doesn't know how to make it happen without letting his walls down.

Price chuckles, turning back to the register to continue swapping bills. "Y'know, if you want to say somethin' you'd best say it." He comments, snapping the drawer shut. "Missed opportunities often come from miscommunication."

He leaves Simon at the bar, heading towards the stairs with his money folder. You jog down the steps and nearly crash into him - he quickly grabs your shoulders and spins you out of the way before you can collide with him. You throw a "sorry!" over your shoulder as you carry an armful of various fruits, leaving Price chuckling as he ascends the stairs to the office.

"The oranges up there aren't looking too great." You chirp, dumping the fruit onto his workspace. A few lemons and limes roll onto the floor, and you bend down to chase them. Simon watches you, a bit miffed at how unaware you were of the situation. What do you think of Price? Do you like him? Would you flirt with him as much as you do with Simon?

You return with the escaped fruit. "I can run to Sevvy's store and grab some for tonight, if you want? The ones upstairs are looking a bit pruney."

"Are you actually gonna use that thing?"

"Huh?" You look at him with confusion written on your face. "What thing?"

"The stool." He looks down at you, his expression unreadable. "'S a bit demeaning, don'tcha think?"

You paused, watching him move the fruit to the side and grab a plastic cutting board. "I mean... he bought it, and I wouldn't have to bug you so much. If I spray paint it black or something, it won't look that ridiculous."

He nods. "Hm."

"I used it to grab the fruit."

"That's interestin'." He mumbles, slicing through an orange. You were right, they have seen better days.

He turns to pop open the register and hands you some bills. "Go get a few oranges, no more than ten. Order should be comin' in tomorrow."

You smile and take the money, stuffing it in your back pocket. With a few hours remaining before the restaurant opens, you go through the kitchen, grab your jacket, and head out the back.

Simon's back to chopping fruit and dumping it into a small bin, bitterly thinking over what Price had said. It's a stool. Price got it to help you and himself. It was a thoughtful purchase. But it's not just that. However unserious this is to Price, he's trying to rile Simon up. He's treating you like the last slice of cake in the tin - Price would like to have it, but he knows Simon's groveling for it. He's forcing Simon to ask for what he wants, and the bartender doesn't like that one bit. Normally, it wouldn't be something that irks him so easily - but this is you we're talking about. Not just anything. You. He wants to grab Price by the collar and throw him into next week with how he's trying to wedge between you and Simon - but he doesn't like having a weakness. He'll keep his cool for now. He'll make a move... eventually.

For now, the only aggressive side he'll present is passive.

Price leaves late that night, somewhere between two and three in the morning. He's beat, spending most of the night between helping you run food and drinks, and fifo-ing the pantry and overflow rooms. He's planning for a day off - of course, after he goes to the bank and comes back here to pay everyone. He's jealous of Simon, who's already upstairs for the night - he wishes he only had a short trip to the third floor before he could crash into his bed. Rather, he has to trek a hefty number of blocks home through the dark streets. He's more worried about going to bed at a decent hour than walking around at night with a bag full of money - people usually steer clear of him when they see his stature.

He locks the back door behind him, puffing out a foggy breath into the frigid air. It's only getting colder - he'll have to break out his gloves and scarf soon. The beanie won't be enough. He shoves one hand into his pocket, the other holding a small bag of trash from the office. He mentally ticks off what he needs to do this week as he grabs the garbage bins, dragging them behind him and towards the street for the trucks to empty in the morning. He pushes them against the store front, taking the lid off and dropping the light trash bag inside.

The loud thunk makes him do a double take. Did he throw away something important? He lifts the bag once again, and a disappointed expression falls upon his face. The colorful kiddie stool he bought for you is there, pieces snapped apart and shoved deep into the bin. Simon didn't even try to hide it underneath the other bags. It's almost like he left it there for Price to catch.

He sighs, dropping the bag and placing the lid back. He trudged down the sidewalk towards his home - he's not too upset by it. He had a feeling Ghost was sinking his teeth into you, and frankly, it's gotten to the point where Price is afraid of what the man might do if someone else tries to take you away. But damn, if his ex-lieutenant's going to make a move, he'd better make a fucking move. For your sake, if not his own.

He pulls his phone from his pocked and shoots Simon a quick, blunt message.

You're paying me back for that.

[emmyrosee]

and then when tattoo artist sukuna and reader start dating🤔🙏PLEASEEEE

By the time you start dating, you’ve got more than enough piercings done by him, a few pieces of ink that decorate your skin, and when you come in for an appointment, he can barely keep his hands off of you, kissing your neck and jawline and running his hands up and down your back before and after because who is going to question the big, bad, Sukuna about PDA? No one. That’s who.

He’s all for the PDA, all for flaunting you around, and who are you to complain? But even without you there, he’s got evidence of your presence covering his body- he’s got your name on his collarbone, a wavelength tattoo of you saying “I love you” along the other ink of his neck, and a kiss mark on the inner part of his wrist. He wants to do the bite mark on his chest, next to the other dark ink littering his skin, but you tell him to wait until you catch up.

More often than not, your appointments lap over others because you’re just in his room talking, he loves to hear you talk about anything and everything, he’s enamored and obsessed with you that when he’s got you plopped onto his lap while he sketches with his chin hooked over your shoulder, those are his little slices of heaven- until someone interrupts it with a knock about his next appointment.

“I’m fucking busy!” He snarls.

“No, baby, they’re right,” you mewl, scooting out of his lap and trying not to find amusement in the way he groans in agony at the loss of you. “You’re working. I shouldn’t be here-“

“You’re supposed to be here,” he grumbles. “We made an appointment for us to chill, this is your appointment!” He’s pouting. Actual, literal pouting, and you coo and cup his cheeks to plant a kiss on his lips.

“You coming by after work?”

“Fuck kind of question is that, of course I am,” he scoffs.

“Good.” You watch him carefully as you reach into your bag, and his eyes bulge in annoyance.

“Do not.”

“Do not what?”

“If you try to leave me a tip, hand to god-“

You say nothing, but you throw a wad of cash folded neatly onto the chair in his office, giggling as you dash out of the room and shimmy through the waiting area. “You’re going to pay for that, shithead!”

“Love you, baby!”