i've been so fucked up for months i haven't been able to go downtown to pick up my work from last spring from my school's textile studio and they always have a cutoff date like if you don't pick up your old work by x date they toss it and they're pretty strict about that unless you arrange with the studio tech beforehand, and the studio tech doesn't like most people she's pretty curt with most students. not rude but just keeps things professional and a bit distant, a very serious person. but i know she grew to like me over the past few years/warmed up to me a lot and we'd chat a lot about different textile things and she would say really kind things to me a lot which felt rare and special, and she let me have special treatment with some of the equipment because she trusted me to use it properly. and i haven't seen her in nearly a year and i expected her to have tossed my work out when i didn't come to pick it up last fall and emailed her to explain why and dropped off the face of the earth, i made my peace with losing that work and accepted it, it is what it is, i will survive, etc.
but she emailed me earlier this week and said she didn't have the heart to toss my work and has kept it safe in her office for me if i'm ever able to come pick it up and if not she's going to keep it as an example piece to show other students when teaching weaving because it's too lovely to get rid of and my heart swelled like 10 times its size bc she didn't have to do that and it meant so much to me that even a year from seeing her last she was still thinking about me and being kind to me. and i emailed her back and picked it up today and saw her and we chatted for a bit and it was so nice. I love her I miss my school's textile studio and weaving in there and talking craft with her... sigh
171 notes
·
View notes
Hey uh, I've been getting a lot of spam in my inbox lately that I usually just block and delete, but just in case anyone is not familiar with phishing scams, this is a fun new/old one:
DON'T CLICK THOSE LINKS FOLKS.
Like this is actually a pretty decent attempt - no glaring spelling or grammatical errors, sounds like official wording - but just like the fucking bank who won't ask you for a pin unless you're at an ATM this is NOT how this works.
Also why would they send a verification link TO an account you're logged into. Just. What
83 notes
·
View notes
I've been writing my dissertation like that gif of the cat frantically slamming a keyboard (you know the one) but it's got me thinking about professor Bucky and how he might incentivise you to get your work done for his class 😏
"You're not getting an extension. Don't even think about e-mailing me for one." The hardest part of dating your lecturer isn't actually the sneaking around; it's that he's a hell of a lot tougher on you than the rest of the class.
"But Bucky I-" You begin but he cuts you off and you know by the look on his face that there's no point pressing it.
"No. You're more than capable and you've got plenty of time to get it done. You don't need an extension, you need to apply yourself."
God, he's annoying. You know you can do it, you never said you couldn't. You just don't want to. There's a massive difference.
He pulls his copy of the required reading out of his bag, setting it on the desk beside your laptop and it takes everything in you not to bury your head in your hands.
"There. I've helped you enough." He nods towards the textbook but when you don't move, he flicks through the pages with a sigh, leaving it open at the chapter you know you should start with.
You sit there for another few seconds in a foul mood, mentally preparing yourself to sit here for the next few hours.
"How about I help you? I get the impression you need an incentive." He knows you too well, there's nothing more motivating than a little treat. "You have 12,000 words to write. For every 1,000 you write this week, I'll give you an orgasm."
Maybe you should complain about his assignments more often.
"Deal." Hell, if you'd known this was coming, you'd have started ages ago.
"Good girl." He laughs, amused at the rate at which your fingers begin to dance over the keyboard.
Getting started isn't too hard. You type out a quick plan of your chapters, dropping in the sources you know you'll need before starting your introduction and with your focus on your work, you hardly notice Bucky sinking to his knees under the desk.
You feel his warm, open mouthed kisses trailing up your thighs under your skirt and his soft groans drag your attention away from the laptop.
"Don't stop working." He insists, licking your sex through your cotton underwear, letting you enjoy the delicious friction on your cunt. "You're almost at the first thousand and it reads well so far." You feel his hot breath against the now wet cotton while one of your hands falls to tug his hair.
"If you stop typing, I stop licking." He threatens, pulling your panties to the side, gliding his tongue against your skin and groaning at the taste of your arousal.
You have just over 200 words until you reach your first thousand and it should be so easy but it becomes even harder when he sinks two fingers into you and you're able to hear how wet you are already.
His lips engulf your clit, sucking gently while flicking his tongue in vertical strokes in time with his fingers curling inside you. "Such a smart girl. I'm so proud of you." He hums before giving you a few broad strokes with a flat tongue.
He knows what his praise does to you and with your thighs clamped around his head, you fly your way through a few hundred more words. He chuckles when you proudly announce you reached a thousand but you don't stop typing at the same frantic pace.
"Sweetheart, if you want to get all 12,000 done this evening, I'll sit here as long as it takes." He smiles against your skin before giving you everything he knows you need. His tongue flicks quickly over your clit and his fingertips rub against the soft, spongy spot inside you and in no time you're gushing against his face, gripping his hair and riding your high out on his waiting tongue.
378 notes
·
View notes