office benching

anonymous asked:

New Seb photo? I've heard about it a little bit but I haven't seen it? Do you have a link to it?


i dreamt that i up and fled the country because my subconscious can’t handle this photo. where do i begin? his biceps? his HANDS? his always hard nipples? the way he carefully arranged his pants to show off the top of his boxer briefs? 

Lately I’ve been especially aware of strangers – often men, but also women – invading my personal space in a way I never have been before. I don’t know what this means. I’ve never been particularly precious about my space, so I’m not sure if my tolerance has shifted, or if I’m picking up on a regional difference, or what. Either way, I have been increasingly finding myself in situations where people seem to be taking up quite a bit more than their fair share.

Example: today I sat on a bench, catching ten minutes of sunshine out of the office. The bench was not set particularly far back from the sidewalk, but I would still expect that passersby would shift slightly to the opposite edge of the sidewalk. Instead, I feel like I’m taking up a row on an airplane while they scoot past to their seat. I keep resisting the urge to curl my legs tighter and tighter toward my body. I remind myself again and again that I am allowed to be sitting here, on this bench, taking up a human amount of space.

Example: I am tasked with checking wristbands at the door. I stand at the midpoint of a not particularly large hallway, physically blocking the lobby entrance. This is the first time I’ve done something like  this. I’m not a security guard or bouncer. I practice stances and body language that I hope read “stop here, please.” I also smile and clearly ask to see their wristband, and mime a wristband motion with my hands. More than a few people push past, undeterred, refusing to make eye contact. Just as many say “I have a question,” and then stand alarmingly close to my face so that I have to tilt my head upward slightly just to see them properly. I know it has something to do with intimidation and something to do with entitlement and something to do with discomfort with authority, and maybe, more specifically, disregard for the authority of a woman who appears relatively young and non-threatening. Still, I find the experience baffling and unnerving. I feel a new, literal appreciation for the concept of standing one’s ground. 


A wood surface, some hardware and galvanized pipe is all you need to DIY a workbench or desk. Industrial yet lovely, this is an intermediate DIY project that results in a striking piece of furniture. Customize the wood top with stain or even Mod Podge or polyurethane and beautiful paper, and paint the pipe legs the hue of your choice. 

Get the full instructions over at the Home Depot Apron blog.


30 Day Royal Wedding Challenge 

Day One: Favorite engagement announcement/photoshoot

↳ Crown Prince Harald and Sonja Haraldsen being cuties on their engagement conference in March 1968

Comentator: “The first steps together in the headlights is in March 1968. Press conference at the palace. Finally they’re able to show the love that nobody could break.”
Crown Prince Harald: “It’s not that long ago. When was the first time?”
Sonja Haraldsen: “That we talked about it?”
Crown Prince Harald: “No. Well, when we made the decision. (…) I can’t even remember.”

(with translating help of @queens-in-a-castle)

[Sasaki (Kaneki’s) Flashback]

Kaneki mutters to himself distorted monologues while sitting on a bench.

Prison officer: No. 240, here’s your meal.

Kaneki swats away the meal given to him and he jumps onto a small window.

Kaneki: Hah… Ah, ah… Hahah…. Let me out…
Kaneki: I… have to go. I have to save them.

Kaneki continues scratching onto the door and his nails start to come off.

Arima goes across the door and looms over Kaneki.

Arima: ….Everyone is dead.

Prison officer: Special Class Arima?! You can’t go insid–
Arima: I killed everyone.

Kaneki: !!??
Kaneki: Hehe? HEHEHEHhehe?
Kaneki: W-why…
Kaneki: Where am I? Then??
Kaneki: Who… Who who who…
Kaneki: Who…. am I…?