#Business Dissertation Topics

[eviturner]

Search for MBA Dissertation Topics in Business Management

Discover interesting Business Management dissertation topics, including International Business, Finance Operations, Management, Accounting, Entrepreneurship, and International Business. These topics will inspire your research and help you excel in your studies.

[freyaandersson]

MBA Dissertation Topics In Business Management

Selecting a dissertation topic for an MBA in Business Management is crucial for students and can be highly rewarding. Topics like the impact of leadership styles on organizational performance, digital transformation in traditional businesses, and corporate social responsibility and its effect on brand loyalty offer students valuable insights into current business trends and practical research opportunities. These topics help students analyze key business principles and their real-world applications.

[emilywatson-01]

Discover MBA Dissertation Topics In Business Management

Check out MBA Dissertation Topics in Business Management to Start Your Research. You can study different things like how companies plan their strategies, how people behave in organizations, marketing plans, finance, and more. Find chances to solve real problems and come up with new ideas. There are many topics to choose from, so pick one that matches what you're interested in and what you want to do in your career.

[sweetheartspence]

౨ৎ booked & busy - s.r. ౨ৎ

you doze off while studying for finals. spencer is there to take care of you.

pairing: spencer reid x grad student!reader genre: fluff content: established relationship, gn!reader, reader is not taking care of themself, spencer uses pet names, tooth rotting fluff wc: 818 a/n: currently suffering through finals and cannot get my brain to focus. so this itty bitty blurb is the product. i wish i had a spencer to make sure i took care of myself. requests/asks are open! my masterlist!!

Your eyes are starting to blur after reading the same sentence for the fourth time, making no more sense out of it than you had the first three times. You're sitting cross legged on the couch, surrounded by papers, articles on the topic you're writing a dissertation on. God, this is your passion, but sometimes you wish you had picked something a little bit easier.

You scrub your hand over your face, sighing and knocking your glasses askew. There's too many big words, and you haven't gotten nearly enough sleep to process all of them. You've been so busy drafting this paper that you haven't been sleeping properly, and Spencer hasn't been around to make you. You chew absently on your thumbnail, shuffling a stack of papers around, trying to find a specific one. Had it even been in that stack? Did you completely imagine that quote?

You sigh again, setting your highlighter to the side. The words are swimming behind your eyelids, becoming little blobs on the page. You're honestly not even convinced they are words. Maybe this author is just making words up, and gaslighting you into believing they're real because of their credentials and the fact that it's been nearly a week since you've gotten a proper rest.

Maybe if you just close your eyes for a moment, you could get them to focus...

---

Spencer is headed back to your shared apartment. He's just gotten home from a long case across the country, lasting nearly a week and a half, and hadn't let you know that he was coming home. He was intending on surprising you, but when he walks in, he finds you fast asleep on the couch, your head tilted back, your mouth slightly open.

Spencer's heart nearly melts in his chest. God, did you have to be so cute? He wonders for a brief moment why you're not sleeping in your bed, but clocks the articles spread out over your lap and the couch. He smiles, and makes his way over to the couch, careful not to disturb you.

Spencer gathers up the papers, stacking them neatly and setting them aside on the coffee table. He gathers you carefully into his arms, tucking your head under his chin, and carries you off to bed.

---

You wake up horribly disoriented. When did you climb into your bed? You blink slowly, reaching up to rub at your eyes. And your glasses are off...

You sit up, looking around the room, blinking blearily, and you see a man sitting on the other side of the bed. He's reading, his fingers skimming along the pages, his lips pursed in concentration. He looks over at you as you sit up, his dark curls falling into his eyes, and immediately his features soften. "Hi, baby," Spencer says fondly, reaching out for you. He wraps a hand around your waist, pulling you to him, closing the book and setting it carefully on the nightstand. The tips of his fingers slide underneath the material of your shirt, tracing along sensitive skin.

"Hi," you say breathlessly, surprised to see him. "You're... home."

"Try not to sound so excited," Spencer smiles, tucking a stray piece of your hair out of your face. This is his favorite way to see you- soft, sleepy, a little lost, and all his.

"I'm- I was studying, and now I'm in bed," you tell him, your eyes widening almost comically. "Christ, I need to finish that chapter of my dissertation, I have pages due this weekend, and-"

"Sweetheart," Spencer interrupts gently. "You need to sleep. You can't do anything while you're this tired. You'll end up having to rewrite the pages anyway, and that's just going to make more work for yourself."

You bite your lip, considering this for a moment. You know he's right, you're too tired to really focus, and the bed is warm and inviting. Spencer is looking at you with those soft eyes, the expression he saves just for you, and you suddenly can't find it in yourself to move away from him.

"Okay," you whisper, tucking your nose into the soft hollow under his jaw. It fits perfectly into the spot, like it was made for you.

"Okay," Spencer repeats softly, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Go to sleep, darling. I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll make you tea, and we can figure out a work schedule for you to get your pages done."

You sigh, nuzzling further into his neck, hiking a leg up to drape it around his thigh. "You're too good to me, you know."

"Just giving you what you deserve," Spencer murmurs, running a gentle hand through your hair. "Go to sleep."

You fall asleep like that, tangled up in one another, the smell of him surrounding you. Old books, rain, and a hint of lemon.

It's the best sleep you've gotten in weeks.

[satan-offical]

Hate mail/ Rant

Okay, Satan, Lucifer, Morningstar, Big Red Cheese – whatever you’re calling yourself these days, we NEED to have a serious conversation. And no, this isn't a "wow, you're so edgy and misunderstood" post. This is a dissertation of pure, unadulterated Tumblr rage aimed directly at your pointy little head.

First of all, the aesthetic. Let's be real, the whole hellfire and brimstone thing is tired. It's been done. We're in the 21st century, Satan. Get with the program! I'm talking, like, pastel goth hell. Think lava lamps, but filled with glitter. Think demons in ripped fishnets and platform boots. Think a color palette that's less "burning souls" and more "strawberry shortcake meets the apocalypse." You're a fallen angel, not a grandpa!

And speaking of fallen, what about your social media presence? It's abysmal. You're supposed to be the ultimate influencer of evil, and yet your tumblr feed is just you sibling for jesus and begging for attention. Where's the relatable content? The "tag a friend who's definitely going to hell" memes? The aesthetic vision boards for different levels of eternal damnation? You're missing out on a HUGE opportunity to corner the market on edgy teens.

Don't even get me STARTED on your employee benefits. I heard that soul-crushing paperwork is the only thing that hasn't been automated. The lack of dental is appalling. I mean, seriously, how are your minions supposed to maintain their terrifying grins without a good dental plan? Not to mention the work-life balance. Burning in hell for eternity? That's not sustainable, dude! We need mandatory vacation days and a healthy demon union.

And the music? Oh, GOD, the music. Heavy metal? Really? That’s, like, so 1980s. Step up your game. I’m talking lo-fi beats to suffer to. I’m talking ambient sounds of existential dread. Think Grimes meets Nine Inch Nails meets the sound of a dial-up modem failing. That’s the kind of auditory torture we need in 2025.

Also, can we talk about the patriarchy? Like, seriously, Satan. You're literally running a system based on punishment and hierarchy. It's problematic, to say the least. We need to dismantle hell and rebuild it as a cooperative collective of tormented souls who work together to achieve… I don’t know... ultimate existential peace through crafting personalized torture devices for problematic billionaires? We can workshop it.

In conclusion, Satan, you're failing. You're stuck in the past, your aesthetic is outdated, your employee benefits are garbage, and your entire operation is fundamentally flawed. I'm not saying you need to completely overhaul everything, BUT WE’RE LOW-KEY SAYING YOU NEED TO COMPLETELY OVERHAUL EVERYTHING.

(Lots of love, from-@askangie)

OK HONEY LISTEN UP

1.) really? Pastel goth aesthetics? It's hell, not your hello kitty hot topic fantasies. We aren't making people feel welcome, and your pretty princess vibes won't help with the fear factor.

2.) Says the person currently on Tumblr. Shitty posts and begging for attention? Yeah, do I see you with 1000+ followers? I give my audience what they want, and if you don't like that start your own blog.

3.) "Soul crushing paperwork?" If you're calling two pages daily on the torment done to our citizens soul crushing, I can imagine how you are at work. Get a life and figure out how to properly have a business before you come complaining to me

4.) So you're hating on heavy metal now? Boo hoo, cry me a river. Oh, you don't like the music? Cry about it and live a good life if you want lofi vibes.

5.) Patriarchy? Really? How long have you been following me? Not long enough to know that ONE: I'm a girl and TWO: most of my staff and heads are women. Get a life and wake the fuck up

Before you come complaining to me about my way of business: become an angel, betray god, fall from heaven, start building up a literal society of evil-doers and then we'll talk.

Mic drop.

[eretzyisrael]

Every week we are reading about professions that are pushing out Zionist Jews from their fields.

In the field of international law:

...The professor saw a trend among the topics Israeli and Jewish colleagues were pushed to pursue. Those who continued their academic work in international law either wrote about Palestinians as victims or Israel’s violations of humanitarian international law. “Israelis would either write about IP law or business law, or about how Israel is being awful, violating human rights and all of that.”

This stood out because the professor noticed their colleagues from Latin America and China weren’t expected to work on topics that criticize their home countries as a condition for receiving faculty support. Yet when it came to Israelis, it was “clear to us this is what we need to deliver on.”

In the professor’s discussions with the senior faculty, especially the progressive liberal Jewish faculty, it came through clearly that support for Israeli students was conditioned on being the right type of Israeli, “and there were fellowships and scholarships and grants available to students who are willing to do that. In Hebrew we say that a person knows which side of the bread is buttered, right? So it’s pretty clear what pays off is to distance yourself from a mainstream Israeli kind of discourse.”

Understanding who holds the power and influences decisions is important in any profession, the law included. “You need to have the support and the mentors to advance in your career,” the professor explained, “and for that, you look for cues on what should I do, how do I make these people like me. Why would you bother, why would you take the risk of saying something that is controversial or put yourself in the position of protecting Israel or speaking on behalf of Israel when there is only a price to pay for that?”

“For example, there is an institute that gives out scholarships to doctoral students who are writing dissertations about Israel. I was advised not to take their money because then it’s going to be on my CV and people will interpret that as if I don’t have the right kind of politics. So even when there are economic incentives to write different kinds of scholarship,” under the current academic incentives, the professor concludes, scholarships and point-interventions will not work “because it’s more about selection and authority and networks and connections and less about economic incentives.”

Mental health professionals:

The anti-Zionist blacklist is the most extreme example of an anti-Israel wave that has swept the mental health field since the Oct. 7 Hamas terror attacks and the resulting war in Gaza, which has seen the deaths of thousands of Palestinian civilians. More than a dozen Jewish therapists from across the country who spoke to Jewish Insider described a profession ostensibly rooted in compassion, understanding and sensitivity that has too often dropped those values when it comes to Jewish and Israeli providers and clients.

At best, these therapists say their field has been willing to turn a blind eye to the antisemitism that they think is too rampant to avoid. At worst, they worry the mental health profession is becoming inhospitable to Jewish practitioners whose support for Israel puts them outside the prevailing progressive views on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Authors:

Over the past several months, a litmus test has emerged across wide swaths of the literary world effectively excluding Jews from full participation unless they denounce Israel. This phenomenon has been unfolding in progressive spaces (academia, politics, cultural organizations) for quite some time. That it has now hit the rarefied, highbrow realm of publishing — where Jewish Americans have made enormous contributions and the vitality of which depends on intellectual pluralism and free expression — is particularly alarming.

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Jews founded the Jews' Hospital in New York in 1855, now known as Mount Sinai Hospital, partially as a response to the need for a place that Jews could be treated without feeling like outsiders, as every other hospital at the time was aligned with various Christian groups. It followed the founding in 1850 of the Jewish Hospital in Cincinnati. When Mount Moriah Hospital Mount Moriah Hospital opened in New York in 1908, the Forward reported that Jews "can open the door and enter as if to your own home without a racing heart and without fear."

Brandeis University was founded in 1948 "at a time when Jews and other ethnic and racial minorities, and women, faced discrimination in higher education."

Jews who were facing discrimination formed professional associations and schools in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, for physicians, scientists, and trades, like the Hebrew Technical Institute in New York and the Kehillah which attempted to be an umbrella of professional and educational associations in New York (and that the antisemite Henry Ford railed against.)

It appears that it is time for Jews in the professions where they are being blacklisted must start to form Jewish professional organizations, educational networks and institutions anew, where Jews can network and publish as they want without having to please the "progressive" crowds.

But the arc of history is going backwards, and this is only a Band-Aid. The problem is with America and the world itself, and Jews cannot solve this problem alone - the dangers of the progressive bigots are a threat to the free world and that needs to be addressed at the macro level.

[skyjasper]

Don't call me crazy

Professor!Az X Student!Reader Modern AU

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has been lusting after her new British professor since the first day of class, what a perfect coincidence he also becomes her private teacher in all things war and torture.

Warnings: vulgar content, smut, 18+, age gap romance, oral (Fem and Male receiving), choking, praise, dom!az.

Word count: 4207

The first time I stepped into Mr. Singers' classroom I was expecting an old white man who thought he was funny.

What I wasn’t expecting as I took my seat in the front row was for a mid-age, tan skin, handsome man with tattoos and a thick British accent to walk out of the office. I wasn’t the only girl who sighed at his devastatingly handsome face.

“Good morning class. Let’s start with basic attendance so I can put faces to names and then we will get started.” The words rolled out of his mouth with the most sensual deep British accent.

The professor for War and Peace in Historical Perspective was not at all what I thought. Not with his crisp black button-up that had to top button undone and the sleeves rolled up. Not with the inky shadows that peaked up the collar of his shirt and down his very muscular forearm.

I was too busy daydreaming about those muscular forearms holding my waist to hear him call my name.

“Mrs. Y/N?” He asked again, which I only heard because of my seatmate elbowing me.

“Here.” I hesitantly lifted my hand, slowly sinking back into my seat out of embarrassment. His gaze fell upon me with his golden honey eyes.

“Next time, if you choose to be in the front, be more present.” He scolded me before moving on. A blush rose over my cheeks with the stern words.

~~~~

My War and Peace class hadn’t necessarily gotten better but also not worse. My work excelled and I never got below a B. So one could imagine my disappointment when my latest paper on Torture Tactics in War got a C-.

Mr. Singers' hand stayed on my desk as he whispered into my ear.

“See me after class or during office hours today.” His deep voice rolled through my body, shooting straight in between my thighs.

Was it inappropriate to have a huge sexual crush on my teacher who was 20+ my senior? Absolutely. Did it stop me? No. Goosebumps rolled down my bare legs and under my pleated white skirt. I nodded my head quickly as he moved to the next student.

After mentally going through my schedule I decided it would be best to stop by during office hours later.

~~~

My fist lightly knocked on Mr. Singers' office door.

“Come in.” He rumbled.

I opened the door before stepping into the dark space. His dark mahogany desk was neat and organized with papers and notes. The room only being illuminated by a tall lamp in one corner and a smaller salt lamp in the other corner.

“You wanted to see me?” I ask as my hands pull at the end of my navy sweater.

“Ah, yes Mrs. Y/N I wanted to discuss your last paper. Sit.” He nodded to the chair across from him. My feet moved on their own accord to sit, as if aching to obey his every word.

“Yeah I saw I got a C- and I was pretty confused. Is there any way I could revise the paper? I planned on using the topic for my dissertation.” I pulled out the printed paper from my bag.

He watched my every movement very closely. His eyes raked my body from my white headband, over my navy blue sweater and white skirt, and down my bare legs that were currently crossed.

“Yes, the topic is very good however the research is not accurate which in turn made most of your paper inaccurate. I was very disappointed to have to give you a C. You are a bright girl Y/N. I know you have a bright future in history, so I do want to work with you so you can gain better research skills and a better understanding of the topic.” He spoke, moving his dark round glasses back onto his face.

The glasses gave him a nerdy Clark Kent look. The glasses made me want to rip off his shirt and ride him. My thighs squeezed a bit tighter at the warmth that pooled in the lowest parts of me. I nodded with understanding before he continued.

“I specialized in War Torture when I was in school. I interviewed real victims and studied the methods and techniques.” He paused pushing up his sleeves and leaning back before continuing. “In the least creepy way possible, I became a master of torture and its history. When I decide I want to know something, I won’t stop until I devour all I can about it.” He finished.

I think I was delirious because I swear that last phrase was an innuendo. My toes curled in my black boots.

“I understand, and I would love your help since you’re so knowledgeable about it. I double majored in History and Journalism so I could research. How would this work? Should I stay after class or come to office hours?” I asked with a tilt of my head, I felt my hair fall off of one shoulder as I did so.

“How about it this, every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday you stop by at let’s say 5:30? Right after office hours so that way we don’t take time from other students.” He asked with his eyebrows raised.

“That works for me! Is there anything I should bring sir?” I asked as I gathered my things.

“Maybe a notebook and your laptop for notes. Other than that we can wing it as we go.” He finished with a small smile and a shrug of one shoulder.

We said goodbyes before I walked out of his office, my thighs now slick in anticipation.

~~~

“Today I figured we could work on the actual technical details of the methods. It is important to understand the thought behind each movement.” Azriel spoke as I walked into his office.

We have been doing this mentorship for the last two months so far. It’s been going well, both of us flirting now and again but never quite crossing the line. He asked me to call him by his first name outside of class, and what a beautiful name he had. Azriel.

I felt his eyes take over my outfit choice for the day. With the warmer weather, my skirt and sweater combo has become more rare. Today I wore a tight white skirt with a cropped white tank top with a thin dark blue cardigan over it and some platform boots. even with my platforms Azriel still stood over me.

“You-you want me to torture you?” My breath hitched with the statement. He let out a small chuckle under his breath.

“No, I’m going to see if you can handle the most basic form of torture. If we can’t understand what torture feels like how can we accurately report it?” He said while moving close to me.

“So what are you going to do to me Mr.Singer?” I asked looking up into his eyes.

“Sensory deprivation. We start with sight, sit down.” He voices as he walks behind me and gently pushes on my shoulder to sit me down.

I took deep breaths as his large hands brought a thick strip of black fabric in front of my face. I felt his presence all too well as he placed the cloth over my eyes and tied it behind my head.

“They start with sensory tactics because there is nothing quite like the paranoia of not being able to see your capturers and what they are doing.” He spoke, his voice drawing quieter as if he moved across the room.

“For example,” He whispered in my ear, easing a small jump out of me. I hadn’t heard his come back, his footsteps silent.

“You have no idea what I’m about to do to you.” He whispered in my other ear, running his fingers over my shoulder. Goosebumps appeared in his wake.

“Can I remove my cardigan? It’s warm in here.” I asked before my fingers fumbled to find the bow holding the top of my cardigan closed. I felt a pair of hands wrap around my own small hands. His fingers slide over mine, quickly pulling the strings of the bow and slowly sliding my cardigan off.

“How are you feeling?” His voice rumbled thick with an accent as he took my cardigan out of my lap.

“I’m ok, it just feels like everything is heightened. Like I can feel everything around me, every breath, every touch. How is this torture?” I whispered with a shaky breath. I know his touch could be innocent but with the massive want between us, every touch feels like he’s about to fuck me.

“It isn’t yet, the next thing they would do would be take away your hearing, they would play sounds that would drive you insane. I’m not going to subject you to that however I am going to create certain sounds and I want you to identify the sounds and objects. Knowing how to use the heightened hearing to your advantage is something that could be very useful in a situation like this.” This time I heard his steps, like he purposefully made them louder.

I gave a nod, moving my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. The first sound I heard sounded like glass. I waited another second before responding to be sure.

“Is it a glass? Like a cup?” I tilted my head towards the sound.

“Yes very good. Would you like some water Y/N?” I felt his approach to my front. I gave another quick nod, sticking out my hands for the cup.

“Ha, knowing you if I tried to hand you this glass you would spill it all over yourself.” He chuckled under his breath.

“You’re not wrong, but how else am I supposed to drink the water?” I lifted a curious brow even though he couldn’t see it.

“Tilt your head back.”

A simple command, yet hearing it set my body alight. I felt warmth gather low in my belly as I did what he asked. As I felt his fingers grasp my chin, pulling open my mouth, I felt that warmth seep out of me. I tried to cross my legs, not realizing how close he truly was.

“Is something wrong Y/N?” He asked with what sounded like knowingness in his voice. I tried to shake my head but couldn’t because of his grip.

“Use your words.” He spoke again. More heat seeped into my panties at his command.

“Nope, nothing's wrong.” My voice came out more breathless than intended.

He hummed before touching the cold rim of the glass to my bottom lip. I felt him tip back my head some more before pouring in the water.

“Would you like to know something Y/N?” He asked as he closed my mouth, allowing me to swallow with a gulp.

“What’s that Mr.Singer?” I asked, feeling his thumb coming up to wipe a small dribble of water that escaped my lips.

“You look divine like this, I can only imagine what you would look like if I could see your eyes.” He whispered as his hand moved from my jaw into my hair.

I sucked in a harsh breath before lifting my hands to remove the blindfold that prevents me from seeing him.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. I didn’t say you could take it off just yet.” His voice was light and full of amusement. Then the entire room shifted as his hand fisted my hair and brought my face closer to his.

I felt his heated gaze take over my body as his breaths gained speed. Then I heard the most torturous sound leave his lips. A groan that sounded like I hit him. Then his heat was gone, all contact broken.

“I shouldn’t do this. You’re my student.” He spoke with anguish. I stood quickly, a little too quickly by the way I swayed. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, steadying me. One hand found the tie holding together the blindfold, I quickly undid it and let it fall to the floor.

My eyes raked over his chest as I adjusted to the light. Did he get hotter while I couldn’t see? His shirt was messy like he had been raking his hands over it. And when I tilted my head to meet his eyes, a whole head and a half taller than me, the hunger I found there was insatiable. And whatever he found my eyes must have changed something for him.

“Fuck it.” He whispered before pulling my head closer to him, smashing my lips into his. I melted as he kissed me.

He kissed me like he was a man dying of starvation and I was his only food source. The hand that was holding the back of my neck moved into my hair pulling it tightly. He ripped his mouth from mine with a gasp.

“Fuck.” He muttered with a new horse and raspy voice. There was a war in his eyes, a conflicting battle.

I decided to end that battle by slipping one of my fingers over his black button-up, slowly undoing each button. When his chest was fully revealed I took a second to marvel at the gorgeous tattoo that spanned his entire muscles chest before pressing a kiss into his pecks.

“Please, Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking up at him with doe eyes and using my softest voice. I saw the battle end and that hunger take over again.

“Jesus fuck, you will be the death of me, baby.” He grunted as his hands slid under my thighs and lifted me onto his desk.

A smile overtook my face as his hands gripped my ass. I gently tugged on the open shirt, asking for him to remove it. I almost let out a cry at the loss of his heat. He pulled his shirt off in one fluid motion, stepping back in between my spread legs.

Azriel slants his mouth over mine once again, his hands grazing over my bare thighs, reaching under my skirt. I let out a small moan when his fingers gripped my thighs.

“Do you like that Y/N?” He asked with a raised eyebrow before sliding his hands under my thighs and pulling me to the edge of the desk.

“God yes, Mr. Singer.” I moaned as he continued to manhandle me. His hands roamed from my thighs to my waist pulling my chest into his.

“Fuck I love the way you say my name. But I love your beautiful tits even more.” He grunted out before pulling my tank top down.

“You have no idea how many times you’ve distracted me in class. Prancing around in these tiny skirts without any tights and your tiny tops. The number of times I’m lecturing and all I can look at are your beautiful thighs.” He ground out as he brought his mouth to my nipples.

A wave of pleasure rolled through me as his tongue swirled my nipped. A loud moan fell out of my mouth when he lightly bit it. My hips bucked forward, almost causing me to fall off the desk but his hands were there, sliding me back onto the steady table.

“Careful there baby. Tell me what you need.” His breath whispered over my nipples with a shuttering sensation.

“You. I need you Azriel.” I whined, grinding my hips into the air. He fell to his knees, his hands pushing my skirt up.

“How do you need me? Do you need my tongue?” He asked as he licked a line from the base of my core to my clit, letting his tongue linger with an audible groan.

“Do you need my fingers?” His strong fingers followed his tongue, drawing a line through my wetness and swirling around my clit, causing me to gasp. My hand reached for my nipple as he paused, leaning back to look at me. After a beat of silence and direct eye contact, he said,

“Or do you need my cock?”

I’m pretty sure I almost orgasmed from those words alone, but I still replied.

“I don’t know, just please. Touch me. Anything, please.” I begged as my hips writhed against the desk. A wicked cruel look came into his eyes.

“Please what? If you’re gonna beg you might wanna address who you’re begging too.” An eyebrow hitched as he slowly brought the finger that hand wiped my wetness to his lips. Rubbing my arousal onto his lips.

“Please, Mr.Singer. I don’t care how but I need you to fuck me.” I whined out.

“Good girl.” My body came alive at the praise and the sight of him moving forward, face into my pussy.

His tongue licked another stripe before sucking on my clit over my panties. One of my hands fell to his hair, holding him into me as he continued to eat me like his life depended on it. His fingers slid up my thighs before grabbing the waistband of my panties and tugging them down. The cold air sent shivers down my spine as he hesitated.

“Mr.Singer?” I asked, looking down at where he sat with his eyes locked on my bare core.

“You are so fucking beautiful. I haven’t stopped thinking about this since the first day of class so I’m going to enjoy it,” he whispered in a daze. His hand forced my legs open even wider, completely exposing me to him.

His thick fingers traced every part of me as one of his hands fell to his hard erection in his pants. My gaze slid down to stare at the now bulging point in his black briefs. I took a moment to truly appreciate the sight before me.

One of the hottest men sitting on his knees, palm rubbing himself, his lips glistening with my arousal, hair a tossed mess from my fingers, and those damn tattoos that moved with each of his breaths. I nearly came at the sight.

I closed my legs, nimbly sliding onto the floor in front of him. My knees hit the hard floor as his gaze dragged over my bouncing tits. One of my hands found his belt and tugged, trying my best to convey what I wanted without words.

He stood quickly, one hand unbuckling his belt and pulling it off in a fast and clean motion. He took a second to wrap up the belt and place it on his desk, not once breaking eye contact. My thin hands slid up his legs, quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down.

His cock sprang free with a small bounce. A small gasp left my mouth as I beheld the sight of his long and thick cock that has barbell piercings along the shaft. I rubbed my thumb over his head, collecting the small bit of pre-cum, and sucked it into my mouth.

Azriels head fell back with a groan, one that became even louder as one of my hands wrapped around his length. I let my lips softly kiss the head of his cock before sucking it into my mouth. I took a minute to warm up to his size before looking up at him.

The second I made eye contact his hand flew to my hair and forced me down on his cock. Tears welled in my eyes as I struggled to take it all.

“Come on, be a good girl and take my cock, pretty girl.” He ground out as his thumb from his free hand smudged my mascara with my tears.

I moaned around his cock and I forced myself up and down him. He was too long to fit in my mouth so with what I couldn’t swallow I used my hand. I pulled off of his cock with a pop, leaning forward and spitting on it before using two hands to jerk him. I moved his cock over my chest, savoring the professor's low groans and curses.

I felt two strong arms slid under my arms, stopping my movement. He picked me up until I was face to face with him and my feet were dangling. He started at me with so much heat to anyone else it might seem like anger. He slid his arms to my waist and pulled my body against him as I kissed me. On instinct, my legs wrapped around his waist, lining me up perfectly to feel the head of his cock push against me.

We both gasped at the contact. It didn’t take him long to walk us over to the wall by the chair, pushing me against it and thrusting his cock so he slid through my folds. A loud moan leaves my mouth when he hits my clit.

“I need you. I’m clean, please fuck me Azriel.” I begged.

A long and overdrawn “Fuck” left his bruised lips. One of his hands guided his cock to line up with my hole.

“I’m gonna fuck you, it’s not gonna be sweet, and it’s not going to be slow. It’ll be hard, and dirty, but fuck will it feel good. Is that ok baby?” He tormented me by nudging the very tip of him into me.

“Yes, god yes.” I threw my head against the wall. I would do anything to just put him inside me.

“Good, I want you to ride me, I wanna see those beautiful tits bounce as you struggle to take me in your little cunt.” He whispered into my ear before moving us so he was sitting on the chair and I was sitting on his thigh. I rubbed against his thigh for any friction I could get.

“Fuck you’re killing me.” His hands ran up and down my sides, as I readjusted myself so I was hovering over his cock.

One of my hands gripped his shaft helping me to sit on his cock. I did it slowly, letting myself feel each inch, feel the stretch of him. We both moaned at the sensation, and he didn’t give me much time to adjust before his hands were moving my hips.

I moved with his hands, grinding on his cock, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt something as good as this. You are perfect.” He said as he tilted his head back. I started to move up and down on his shaft, every so often switching to grinding against him.

His head snapped back to lock me in the eye before his hands found my hips with a bruising grip, stopping my bouncing. He thrust his hips up, hard and fast.

“Oh fuck.” I screamed out as he continued to fuck me.

His arms enclosed my waist fully, holding me to his chest as my fingers raked the strong muscles.

“You’re so good, thank you sir.” I moaned and pulled my nails down so hard I left marks.

His replying hum was more than enough for me as he moved his lips to suck on the sensitive spot between my neck and ear.

I felt a tight tension run down my spine as my orgasm grew closer. He let me grab one of his hands, and I guided it around my throat, gently squeezing to signal what I wanted.

“You want me to choke you? Maybe you did pick the right field.” He muttered with a condescending laugh. But still, he obliged, squeezing the sides so I got that beautiful blood rush. His pace quickened as I tightened around him.

“Cum baby, milk my cock with your cunt. Be my good girl and cum.” He said before he licked a strip of my neck.

My orgasm shook my body with a force that I hadn’t felt before. Frat guys are notorious for not making girls cum. My cunt squeezed him as he jerked up into my cunt before pulling out. I whimper at the loss of contact before I felt ropes of his cum paint my stomach, just where it would be if he were inside me.

As I came down from my high I felt his fingers dragging up my stomach, collecting his cum onto his digits. He brought them to my mouth and pushed them into my lips. I took no time licking them clean of his cum and sucking them like they were his cock. I kept my most innocent eyes as I swirled my tongue around them and popped them out of my mouth.

“One day I want to see your mouth full of my cum. For now, I need to clean you up and get you back to my place.” He gently lifted me and sat me down on the couch before turning and getting a rag out of his office cabinet.

He sunk to his knees before me, gently wiping me clean and muttering praises. My mind was a puddle and my body was spent. He gently pulled my tank top back up and covered me with his suit jacket. We made sure the coast was clear before walking to his car and driving to his apartment where we spent the rest of the night fucking, cuddling, and getting to know each other better.

~~~

A/N: here it is!!!!!! Next up, chapt 4 of S&S!!!!!!!

Taglist: @littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

[lynne-monstr]

I'm back on my business etiquette bullshit. if you send me a slack message that just says "hi" first of all you immediately go to the bottom of my to-do list. and then when I reply, if the only thing you say in response "quick chat now??" please know that there is no way in hell I am saying yes.

does it really take so much effort to just put your request in the fucking little text box. it doesn't have to be a dissertation, pls just let me know the overall topic. "quick chat about xyz topic?" is fine! it lets me know if i can say yes or if i need to go gather additonal info. it will go much better for both of us if you tell me what you want to talk about. otherwise, chances are I'm going to tell you on the call that I need to look it up and we'll have to set up another call anyway. this isn't a surprise party, you dont have to keep secrets from me.

I'm so done, why does nobody know any basic business etiquette.

(yes I am aware I am being petty. but also i'm too busy to waste time. that being said, for people who always use good etiquette, on the few occasions they message me out of the blue asking for a call with no context, I will say yes because they have built up good will and I trust them not to be wasting my time.)

[luncheon-aspic]

Dick so good the haterz have to discredit the entire concept of nationalism.

Dick so good it makes the British intelligence officer speculate that you're going to be appointed Minister of Finance

[aunt-pol]

Hello! This post will probably seem out of place on my blog but I am offering free proofreading and copy editing services in order to build a portfolio! Freelancing is a hard thing to get started in, especially when most of one's recent job experience has been in the service industry, but I love editing for folks and I'm really trying to make this the year I get it up and running, even if only as a side hustle. If you have any projects you'd like to have copy edited or proofread, please keep reading to see if we can help each other!

My qualifications:

Studied English at the University of Dallas

Worked as a copy editor at the student newspaper

Did a summer internship in the corporate communications dept for a global company which involved, among other things, independently editing the daily company newsblast

Am a hobbyist writer on my own time - I relate from both sides of the red pen!

Simply editing things for family, friends, and online mutuals! Which has gotten me testimonials such as these:

"Katie provided an attentive and thorough reading of my resume, and suggested several minute but important corrections which helped to clarify my writing! She responded quickly to my request, edited the document and returned it to me within a short timeline, and was clear and direct in her feedback."

-Marie Trotter, writer and critic

"Katie Kuplack is the editor you need! Her perceptive notes and sharp eye for grammar, such as verb tense and sentence structure, will make your writing more professional and publishable. Katie will take your writing seriously, offering honest feedback and encouraging you to exceed your expectations. I recommend Katie’s editing services for any writing project that you value and hope to share with the world."

-Sarah O'Brien, EIC of Boston Accent Lit and author of Shapeshifter

How It Would Work:

You can message me here or email me at katiek.edits@gmail.com about the project you'd like me to work on and we'll talk about what service you're wanting, turnaround time, etc. I'm open to bouncing it back and forth as much as you need to get the final product you want. In the end, you get a more polished whatever-it-is, and I have your permission to keep before-and-after samples of your project for my portfolio, to be used on freelancing platforms like Upwork or eventually shown on my own website.

Types of Docs/Projects I am particularly interested in working on:

Short fiction and poetry

Tapletop roleplay game materials

Captions and subtitles*

Website copy and blog posts

Resumes, cover letters, other business writing

*I realize these typically don't get edited by a third party, but I am also interested in getting experience creating them if that's something you need!

Other stuff you should know:

I'm already familiar with AP Style, learning Chicago, and can of course work with whatever company- or project-specific style guide you might have.

My topical specialties include English lit, pop culture, fandom, business communications, martial arts, beauty and skincare, and the coffee industry.

I have experience editing for ESL writers and translated work.

I can work with you through both Google and Microsoft applications.

What I will NOT work on:

Any AI-generated content

Marketing/sales copy

Full-length books/novels (not for free)

Kindle Direct Publishing e-books

Academic papers, dissertations, etc.

Please reblog to help me get this around and thank you if you read this whole thing! I know this is a long shot but I hope to hear from some of y'all soon. :)

[trashland-llamas]

An Apple a Day

x GN! Reader // AO3 link

Due to his mutation, Charles had come across the many ways in which people think. Those with adhd who think a mile a minute, boomeranging between topics to those who thought more on the abstract side of the spectrum. Where no words were expressed; just the building blocks of concepts. Both were a welcomed challenge when those thinkers came to him for help. Simply had to venture outside the box. 

But the biggest challenge came in the form of Reader who had aphantasia and no inner monologue. It wasn't that they didn't think outright as Charles could sense the cogs still running. Thinking was more a conscious effort for them, having to intentionally engage in it. Self-enrolled in art therapy, Charles was aware they had gotten better at imagining objects. Upgrading from a hazy void to tv-static filled outlines. Despite this, he was still able to tune the few thoughts they did have. The process being loads easier compared to everyone else, even non-mutant civilians. Reader’s thoughts didn’t slam into his senses like most people.

So color him surprised when one day, in the early hours, he's hit with a tsunami of extreme uneasiness. Charles picks up negative emotions revolving around simple medical procedures. Grainy images of a sterile environment and latex gloves around a stethoscope. A run of the mill checkup which wasn't weird as a lot of the mutants at the x-men mansion had past trauma regarding hospitals and laboratories. Hank was also currently conducting the annual checkups for everyone. He was bound to come across it eventually during this time. 

It was a common phobia, though he thought he had learned by now to block it out. It wasn't his business unless asked for help. He had invoked psychological damage on one too many. But these emotions were threatening to overtake him and they weren’t his own. Instilled with the notion to ask if the person was okay. Pressing two fingers to his head, he sifted through the many mutants nearby, letting it lead the way. Grimacing when he felt the mutant think about having blood work done and a vein blowing. Aware that one was a memory and not just a passing thought.

His feet lead him to the common room, where Reader was perched at the window seat. Their leg bouncing at a rapid speed, one hand picking at the skin of their lip while the other held a novella. Charles could tell that they hadn't turned the page in a long while as their gaze wasn't on the pages. Reader's distressed y/e/c eyes darted upward to his concerned one. A tentative hand on his shoulder.

'I thought you weren't able to—'

'I'm not. Your thoughts are usually...quiet. What frightened you so badly?' Charles asked, acting like he didn't already have an inkling. That and he wanted to hear it in their own words. ‘Got a checkup with Hank closer to lunchtime. Kinda worried about how it will go. Last time I was in the hospital, it was when my mutation appeared. Ended up being experimented on,’ Reader shakily explained. Charles had heard similar stories before. ‘You’ll be in good hands with Hank. While he’s a curious man, he’s respectful of boundaries. You’re not the first scared mutant he’s dealt with,’ Charles tried to reassure. His voice soft as he continued to treat them akin to a cornered animal.

‘I’ve interacted with Hank before. You’d think he was doing a dissertation with how many questions he asked about my mutation,’ the statement expressing that their anxiety wasn’t because of Hank. That it was just the situation that scared them; the past haunting them. Charles lightly laughed at their words. ‘Then try and look beyond the fact that he’s performing the role of a doctor, okay? It’s just Hank, another mutant who is simply trying to make sure you’re healthy and that everything is in working order…plus, there aren’t many blue doctors in the world,’ Charles grabbed the hand that had been toying with their lip, rubbing circles along the back of their palm. Their novella long discarded. ‘Okay, I’ll try…but has he at least decorated his laboratory?’

‘Eh, kinda. I won’t lie, it’s quite plain. But it’s not the sterilized version that you’re accustomed to. It’s quite apparent that there’s still life.’ He could tell they had slowly begun to calm down as their thoughts were no longer close to boiling over. Now a mere simmer instead. ‘His lab is quite chaotic, messy. You’d be surprised how he manages to get anything done there but it fits his personality. You’ll do fine, love.’

[anghraine]

I barely got my fake dissertation draft turned in before the deadline but ... whatever, I should be able to actually defend the real dissertation on schedule now.

It's not literally fake; I wrote everything in it at ... various points ... and it's all real opinions I have on my topic, etc. It's fake in the sense that it needed to look like a dissertation draft structurally and be about the topic, but is not the actual draft that I'll be defending, which isn't due for another week, and then if I pass, I'll have a few days to revise that into Real_Final_Dissertation_NOTJOKINGTHISTIME.pdf(1)(1)(1). I just very suddenly needed to produce something dissertation-shaped for bureaucratic purposes today as a result of a miscommunication involving calendar days vs business days.

So I spent today in a haze of formatting, rearranging passages from other related projects to fill space, fixing citations, blahblah to give the Graduate School something to look at while I finalize the real thing. My department chair even called to explain the misunderstanding and assure me it was all totally cool and not my fault and she's very interested in the (real) dissertation.

Afterwards, I emerged in a haze, my best friend made me some food (I had consumed nothing except water, some chicken and toast, and five cans of Mountain Dew at that point, lmao) and was just sort of blinking around and mumbling.

me: Hopefully it will be okay ... anyway, is anything else going on?

best friend: A bit, actually.

me: Really? Did you get good news?

best friend: Well, not me specifically, but ... Trump was found guilty on 34 counts, so...

me: WHAT

[eponymous-rose]

It's another busy week, so I'm gonna do one of these again because it genuinely helps me keep track. Today in a nutshell!

Worked on some e-mails over breakfast - mostly coordinating for dinner tonight (I 100% did not forget to make the reservation, I promise, I just uhhhhhhhhhhh definitely didn't forget, that's for sure, and thank goodness for no particular reason that they happened to have one table left at 6PM), happily agreeing to write some reference letters for my PhD student's postdoc applications, rescheduling some meetings, setting new meetings, meetings meetings meetings. Oh, and booking tables for a couple of card shows this month! Off to work!

I get in a little later than I'd like and rush downstairs to the lounge to make my mug of tea pre-class, where I run into a student who just defended his PhD last week. I'm on his reading committee, so we agree to set up a time to go over my (honestly quite minor) comments on his dissertation. I also run into our incredible facilities guy, who follows up on some technical issues my students ran into over the weekend, hopefully resolved - I have five groups of three undergraduate students running their own weather stations all across the metro area of our city!

No time to enjoy the tea, so I leave it to steep a hilariously long time and rush back downstairs to teach my class! This year's students are truly exceptional - apparently over the weekend they all discovered that the Mac version of the data collection software for their weather stations is no longer supported, and they all independently coordinated to get PCs into the hands of all 5 groups. Let me tell you, when you're expecting to have to spend the first 20 minutes of the class troubleshooting and are instead greeted by a quiet, expectant two rows of faces, it's a great feeling.

Today's lecture is a topic I'm really passionate about - teaching students the "why" behind a lot of the statistical methods they've learned in the past (these are college seniors) and working on building a pipeline for exploratory data analysis. This isn't explicitly part of the syllabus, but my gosh, the quality of the final reports has improved sharply once I introduced these lectures. The students participated a bunch and happily launched into think-pair-share groups without my having to coordinate them. This is my sixth time teaching this class, and these students are far and away the best I've encountered. I am also very, very bad with names (and have a lot of anxiety about calling someone by the wrong name) but managed to successfully use an example in class in which I rattled off four students' names in a row, no effort needed. Phew.

As a side note, this has always been far and away my least-favorite class to teach, and this was the year I was gonna change that - I brought it to a curriculum development workshop last year and even presented on it at an education conference last week. But... dang, having strong students truly makes it effortless to enjoy teaching this class.

Back to my office, which smells like the double-spiced chai that has been steeping so long it's probably quadruple-spiced by now. Delicious. I have an hour until my next commitment, so I try to get ahead on grading the homework assignment my students handed in on Friday (all 15 of them handed it in on time!!!!). I also realize that this is my last block of free time until dinner, so I run downstairs to heat up my soup for lunch.

After getting through four of the assignments, it's time for a weather briefing (we have a team for a national forecasting competition), which means it's mostly just time for technical difficulties, but we make it through in the end and wrap up a bit early - back to grading! Students are doing great on this assignment overall, which is gratifying, but I make a note of a topic some of them are struggling on so I can mention it during Wednesday's class.

Weekly hour-long meeting with one of my Master's students! He talked about how he's taking a course on pedagogy to help with his work as a teaching assistant this quarter (!!) and he's been working through my first round of revisions of his very first first-author scientific journal article and had a few clarifying questions. I recommended some off-the-wall papers in the communications literature that I think would dovetail well with some of the discussion in his paper, and he was really jazzed to get to explore those. We also decided to get him set up with a million core-hours on a supercomputer so he can start on the next phase of his research - he promised to have the paper ready for the next set of revisions by the end of the week, so while I'm working on that, he can get familiar with the new system. I am also reminded that I really need to come up with some more substantial funding for him - currently he's working on a fellowship, but that runs out after three years.

After he heads out (a few minutes early, more grading time!) I get an e-mail from a scientist in Switzerland - she and I are working on getting her out here for a two-year postdoc job studying lightning with me. She's made revisions on her application for funding, so that's another thing for me to read over this week. I'm also reminded that I have to get back to an Italian grad student who wants to come visit my group for a year. Still figuring out the logistics on that one...

I also need to get back to a forestry service colleague of mine about getting the university my share of the funds for our fast-approaching field work using brand-new radar tech to study wildfire smoke plumes. I really, really need to get back to him this week - I think we're planning on flying out in April to start.

ALSO also this week, I have some pretty intense revisions of my own to deal with - I've been given this opportunity to write a huge review article, and I finally got it done back in December... only to learn that they want it to be about half that length. I'm going to take a swing at carving 5,000 words out of that behemoth.

AND a colleague and I are working on a resubmission of a grant to study thunderstorms in really unusual places, and I promised her I'd have a complete draft for her to read by the 7th. Phew. Good thing my week is only front-loaded with meetings.

Whoops, no more time to grade/read e-mails and schedule in my head. We have someone here today interviewing for a job on our faculty, and I'm one of the search committee members! Better dash downstairs to catch the candidate's talk. We have five two-day interviews planned for the next four weeks. Ouch.

Awesome talk by the candidate (we're very lucky to be spoiled for choice even in our very specialized field - we've whittled 86 qualified candidates down to five), and I launch straight from that into a student's PhD entrance exam. At this stage I should mention how much I genuinely loathe our PhD entrance exam, which is a pedagogical and logistical nightmare all around. This was a very popular opinion, which is why we as the faculty voted unanimously to completely change the process last year. Why are there students still taking this horrible exam???? Fuck if I know, man. At this point, it's voluntary to opt into it, and I am baffled and deeply frustrated at how many faculty members apparently encouraged their students to take it. Anyway, the student does a great job and we muddle through somehow, and now it's back up to my office to do some cramming on small-talk topics before a colleague and I host the faculty candidate for dinner!

A delightful dinner all around - my colleague is someone I was initially intimidated by (she's a giant in the field) but with whom I have since bonded, so we had some fun banter in the car and I think it helped the job candidate relax a little. We had some fun big-picture talk (and some less-fun big picture talk about news that dropped as we were eating) but mostly just talked about how much we love this part of the world. Good food, drink, and conversation. On the car ride home, I managed to troubleshoot a problem my undergrad research assistant was having with getting access to the supercomputer he needs for his project. Phew.

That's a long day, but good stuff all around!

[fanhackers]

Mark Heresy, American, b. 1965. Will to Power (detail), 1992, Ink on paper, 28 x 22 in, 2000.11.5, Gift of Peter Norton, Collection of the Haggerty Museum of Art, Marquette University

Putting on an exhibition was the furthest thing from my mind when, through my PhD assistantship, I was placed at Marquette University’s Haggerty Museum of Art in the Fall of 2022. To say that I was anxious to talk authoritatively about fine art would be a dramatic understatement. Historically, my visits to art museums included confusion about what was (and wasn’t) considered “good,” and my daily experience with art centered around the fan pieces I saw posted on Tumblr and Instagram. I was, to put it bluntly, terrified.

During the same time period, I was struggling to find the focus of my dissertation. With Master's degrees in both English and Business Administration, and with a passion for fanfiction, I knew I wanted to talk about fan compensation. I had read plenty of scholarly books and articles that were passionate about promoting fandom as valid, positive, and useful, and plenty more that broke down the unpaid labor that fans engaged in for their fan objects, but I had never seen these two concepts addressed at the same time. Texts considering fan compensation tended to view fan labor in a negative light. At best, fanworks were viewed as a gift from a fan to the fan community at large, with fans knowing they would be repaid when other fans within the community gifted their own fanworks in return. (Nevermind that I myself have a fic on AO3 that is—as of writing this—the only fic belonging to its extremely rare-pairing). At worst, fanwork was viewed as unpaid labor, utilized—often unethically—to prop up the mass-media corporations who profited from it. I wanted to consider the ways in which fans were paid that weren't specifically monetarily based, and I wanted to address the topic from a position of honoring and respecting fanworks in all their forms. 

Even with this knowledge of what I wanted to discuss, I was struggling in my program. My experience in both of my Master’s programs had not prepared me for the fast pace at which new ideas and theories were disseminated in fan studies and through digital communities. Each time I thought I had found something new and exciting to add to the scholarship, I read a new paper—or more often watched a TikTok—which said my great idea in a better and smarter way than I had considered it. I felt discouraged and lost. I took a step back from my research, deciding to focus my time and energy on my assistantship instead. The museum was showing a portion of Marquette University’s collection of Tolkien manuscripts, and part of my duties included gathering three minute oral histories from fans for The J.R.R. Tolkien Fandom Oral History Collection. Inspired by this experience, I began to think about museums and archives, about what gets archived, about what gets displayed, and about who gets to make those decisions.

When the Haggerty Museum’s Curator for Academic Engagement approached me about an exhibition centering my own research, my first thought was to hang fan art on the walls. This, I was quickly told, was not an option for a plethora of reasons. Couldn’t I instead, it was suggested, use fine art pieces to discuss these types of fanworks? I first considered using pieces that could themselves be seen as fanworks—variations on mythology and biblical stories, new ways of considering historical moments and places, Andy Warhol’s Marilyn Monroe… but this didn’t feel like enough. Everything is inspired by something. Is that enough to make it a fanwork?  

It was from these thoughts and musings that Affirmation/Transformation: Fandom Created was born. Fourteen fine art pieces were selected from the Haggerty’s permanent collection—each of which will be used to discuss something that fans create. I categorized fan creations broadly: alternative readings, collections, community and collaboration, emotional responses, histories, identity, meanings, new texts, parasocial relationships, play, political and social movements, rivalry and opposition, rules, and theories.. The 14 fine art  pieces will be hung in the gallery during the exhibition, but are also currently available to view online. In this ongoing project, fans are invited to create fanworks inspired by these 14 pieces, and the fanworks submitted will be displayed digitally alongside the fine art. Think of it like a Prompt Meme challenge, featuring fine art as your prompt!

My experience with fandom is as much about community as it is about the thing I’m a fan of, and this is why it was so important to me to avoid discussing fandom in a vacuum. An exhibition of just my voice explaining what fans created felt cold; it felt disconnected from and disrespectful to the very thing I was trying to celebrate. This is why my dissertation project is collaborative, featuring the voices and creations of fans everywhere. I also feel called to ensure that these fanworks are treated with the respect that they deserve. This doesn’t just apply to the ways in which I will write about them in my final dissertation text; moreso, it is vitally important to me to take advantage of the opportunity I have to archive fanworks in Marquette’s institutional repository. Archiving these fanworks not only preserves them for potential future academic research, but also marks them—and fanworks in general—as being worthy of a place within the academic archive.  Fan submissions for Affirmation/Transformation: Fandom Created are being accepted now, and will continue to be accepted through the close of the exhibition (December 22, 2024). In order to be on display in the gallery on opening night (August 23, 2024), fanworks must be submitted by August 1st. All types of fanworks are welcome, as long as they are submitted digitally. Sound will be available to be played in the gallery (fanworks will be displayed on tablets with headphones attached).  For more information, visit https://epublications.marquette.edu/fandom/Affirmationtransformation/, or email Kate Rose at AffirmationTransformationShow@gmail.com

[badbatchposts]

🎱 🍓 🌵🔪🪲. I reblogged the ask game from you, so I wanted to be courteous and send you an ask! I'm honestly curious about these.

Thanks for the ask, friend! It's really nice to be able to reflect on some of these things!! Sorry in advance for the super long responses lol.

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats:

Works: 2

User Subscriptions: 6

Kudos: 204

Comment Threads: 84

Bookmarks: 67

Subscriptions: 51

Word Count: 67,351

Hits: 4,652

I honestly have no sense of how these stats compare for the usual fanfic writer, but it makes me happy to see how many people have subscribed to my longfic, especially since I don't always get a ton of comments on new chapters. But it seems people are reading! And definitely more people than read my dissertation, lol.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

I used to write a lot of original work in high school and early college, but then as things got busy--and as I convinced myself my writing wasn't good enough to be worth it--I largely stopped. I always felt guilty about it. I really enjoyed writing, but didn't think I was creative enough or had the right amount of stamina that it took to complete a long work, and I had this perfectionist idea where it felt like it wasn't worth doing if I couldn't be the best at it.

Then right as the new Bad Batch season came out this year I was struggling a lot with burnout and found that I was spending a lot of time thinking about the show, and decided that I might as well start reading some fanfiction--for the first time ever--and felt like writing it would be a nice creative outlet that might help me recover from my burnout. It really has been great, and some of what's made it so good is actually exactly the sort of things that used to make me think writing fanfiction wasn't worth it. Namely: it's not professionally publishable.

That is, legally, I will never be able to professionally publish and profit from any of what I write--it can only be posted and enjoyed. This actually just took so much of the pressure off. It doesn't have to be perfect--it doesn't even have to be very good, because that's not what it's for.

I started thinking of it more as an exercise for working on my writing skills (things like, okay, in this chapter I'm going to practice writing dialogue, or in this next one I'm going to work more on establishing an interesting setting). As a result, I'm now thinking more about the writing process and improving my storytelling, rather than worrying about trying to make it perfect or good enough to publish or feeling competitive or down on myself when I encounter writing that I feel is much better than my own. It's been really freeing.

All of this happened over ten years since I stopped writing in college, and the other great thing has been seeing that my writing skills didn't disappear. In fact, they've gotten better and grown as a result of the learning I did in the meantime. I'm now much better at envisioning narrative arcs, outlining, getting myself to write consistently instead of just waiting for inspiration to strike me, and a whole load of other skills. It's really helped soothe a part of me that worried that I had abandoned writing, that it was too late for me to "do" anything with it, or that I only would have gotten worse.

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Parasailing in Rio de Janeiro with a Caipirinha in Your Hand

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I've been spending a lot of time researching historical kitchens on sailing ships and historical brothels for the Pirate AU that I'm working on. Once for an academic paper I was working on a novel that depicts a (non-sexual) human-animal relationship but through very intimate and erotic terms, and I accidentally googled a combination of terms that came back with information on bestiality while on my university's wi-fi.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

The most recent thing I wrote for my Pirate AU (I'm skipping ahead SEVERAL chapters to inspire myself with the steamy bits haha)

“I hardly think I can get into much trouble here. Your crew have been perfect gentlemen.”

Hunter’s eyes glinted in the half-light of the lamps. Though he didn’t move, all of a sudden she was all-too-aware of how close he was, how easy it would be for him to reach out and touch her. “And what about me?” he murmured. “Haven’t you heard from the ladies in port? I’m a scoundrel. A very dangerous man. Maybe you ought to be afraid of me.”

Thanks again, this was a lot of fun!!

[fairfieldthinkspace]

The Dolan Difference: First Executive DBA Cohort Leads the Way with Groundbreaking Research 

In today’s fast-paced business environment, professionals need a program that combines real-world challenges with strategic decision-making skills. Fairfield Dolan’s Executive Doctorate in Business Administration (DBA) program is a game-changer for senior-level professionals eager to elevate their careers. The first cohort is already immersed in cutting-edge research across various business disciplines, including analytics, marketing, and finance.

The Dolan Executive DBA program stands out by allowing students to balance research with professional responsibilities. Over three years, students complete a chapter of their dissertation with each course, culminating in a comprehensive defense. This hands-on approach integrates theory with practical applications, preparing students for success in both academia and their careers.

What truly sets the program apart is its faculty. Each student is paired with an advisor who specializes in the student’s research area, providing personalized guidance throughout the program. These experts help students refine their research to make meaningful contributions to their fields.

The first cohort’s innovative research topics highlight the diverse perspectives shaping the future of business. Topics include:

Ronald Elowitz: Innovation Ecologies and Sustainable Practices (Advisor: Carl Scheraga, PhD)

Glenn Heller: The Impact of Gene Therapies on the Insurance Industry (Advisor: William Vasquez Mazariegos, PhD)

Rosemarie McLaughlin: The Impact of a 1% Excise Tax on Share Repurchases (Advisor: Steven Kozlowski, PhD)

Emily Ott: Gen Z Motivation and Millennials as Managers (Advisor: Mousumi Bose-Godbole, PhD)

Shilpa Rosenberry: The Impact of Post-Covid Remote Working Policies on Working Moms (Advisor: Yifeng Fan, PhD)

Deborah Stewart-VanOrden: Eliminating Waste in Government Defense Contracting (Advisor: James He, PhD)

Greg Tanner: The Influence of Board Composition and ‘Prestige’ on Company Performance (Advisor: Michael McDonald, PhD)

As these students continue their dissertations, their groundbreaking insights will underscore how the Dolan Executive DBA program is driving innovation and shaping the future of business leadership.