#PHD Synopsis Presentation

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5 Points To Consider While Writing An Effective Conclusion For Your Phd Thesis

Introduction

One of the most important parts of the PhD thesis is the summary and conclusions you draw from your study. It's the final chance you have to make an impact on your readers, who will likely be a panel of professional reviewers, by summarizing your results and tying up any loose ends from your research. In addition to outlining your work, a strong conclusion is where you can highlight the importance of your study and explain how your work has advanced the area. Here are five key considerations for writing a powerful conclusion to your doctoral dissertation:

Summarize key findings: You should start your conclusion with a brief overview of your subject and the issue it presents. The next section provides a Phd Synopsis Presentation of your study's most important results and conclusions. Instead of introducing brand-new material, the conclusion is an opportunity to highlight the most significant findings and contributions made during the thesis. Make sure these results are readily understood by using simple, unambiguous language in your presentation.

Address research objectives: Examine the initial objectives and underlying assumptions of your original thesis. This study has contributed to the attainment of the stated objectives by examining the extent to which our research has facilitated their realization. Additionally, it has evaluated the accuracy of our initial forecasts. The significance and implications of attaining or exceeding these objectives for one's professional field should be underscored.

Reflect on methodology: Provide a succinct description of the thesis methodology employed in your work, highlighting its notable characteristics and limitations. In order to demonstrate intellectual integrity and analytical rigor, it is imperative to engage in a comprehensive examination of any underlying assumptions, constraints, or biases that could have influenced the outcomes of one's research.

Discuss implications, limitations, and future directions: When you discuss your findings in terms of the greater relevance they have, it will help you take them beyond the scope of the particular question that was being investigated in your study. Consider the ways in which your work contributes to the growth of knowledge in your field and the ways in which it could have an influence on future Research Paper Writing, policies, or practices. Put more of your focus on the "so what" component of your research, which addresses the question of why anyone should care about what you've learnt.

Every study has its own set of constraints, and acknowledging those constraints requires both self-awareness and honesty on the part of the researcher. The limits of your study need to be highlighted, regardless of whether they apply to the technique of the study, the data from the study, or something else entirely. You should also offer further research routes that could expand upon your results and fill up these gaps. As a consequence of this, it is abundantly evident that the findings of your research make a contribution to an on going discussion.

End with a Clear and Memorable Closing Statement: Make sure your last sentence is crystal clear and memorable to your readers. In a single sentence, sum up why your study is important and what you want readers to remember. It might be an inspiring quotation, a question that prompts more consideration, or a call to action for further study or implementation of your discoveries.

In addition to these five essential components, be sure to have an academic and professional tone throughout the whole of your conclusion and for this you can take help from Wrirk. It is important to avoid adding additional references or citations in this part, since its primary emphasis should be on summarizing and synthesizing the previous work, you have done.

Conclusion

There is more to writing an excellent conclusion for your PhD thesis than just reviewing the research you have done. It is a chance to reflect on the relevance of your work, accept its shortcomings, and stimulate more study and development in your subject. You can guarantee that your thesis has an enduring influence on your audience by adhering to these principles and meticulously constructing your conclusion. This will also allow you to make a relevant contribution to the field in which you are engaged in research.

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[kivedreams]

I WANT YOU. part. I knj.

pair. idol namjoon x f. reader. f. is latina poc.

genre. falling in love, established relationship, romance, marriage

warnings. +18 racism and colorism discussed [this part does not contain smut, but the story is not made for a minor audience] this super delulu coded [pls tell me if i missed anything ]

synopsis; you make my life shine, and I think I also make yours shine or you didn't know how hard a relationship with a famous person would be

word count: 4.7k

A/N: i let my delusions run free with this one, i think ill be four parts.

next part.

Just a the moment you thought the party was dying down they arrived, is not like you hated the idea of having a party, but this week has been hard on you, nothing went exactly as you planned, having your thesis send back two times in a row, draw you down, that thesis was the last thing between you and your PhD, you knew it was going to be hard, but God it really was testing you, of course you were happy for Namjoon today was a big day for him, he was finally releasing the book that he always wanted to publish a full guide on The Joseon era art and its influence in today's korean artwork, Namjoon was really proud of korean artists, so being able to pay homage to them was a big thing for him and for you, because Namjoon happiness was part of your own. 

The tight red dress that you were wearing might have been a bit too much, but it was Namjoon’s gift. It might have been tighter because you had put on some weight due to the stress of these months. Going to the gym or doing any type of exercise was the last thing on your mind. You would have been lying if you did not admit that, it was one of the things that were making you feel insecure tonight, your relationship was already hard, nobody believed that Namjoon the first born child of a korean family, the leader of the most successful kpop group and now Namjoon the writer would settle for you, a latin woman of color, that did not appeal to a single one of the korean standards, you weren't insecure by Namjoon’s feelings, but you were insecure on how everyone else feelings and prejudices might influence his decisions, is not like you were desperate for the ring, you really didn't need it, nor were you prepared for marriage, but sometimes it feel like the only thing that could silenced all the voices in your head, all the social media talk, and of course everyone around you. 

“Y/N?” He called for you. You were still in the balcony of the apartment, seated in the light brown handmade chair you purchased for the space, with a glass of wine enjoying the Seoul night, a slight breeze, and of course the beauty of the balcony Namjoon and you have crafted together, a lot of plants were everywhere accompanied by artworks and souvenirs that you both had collected through the years, some on your travels together, some alone.

“Yes, darling” you responded looking at him, Namjoon was an extremely handsome man, you loved that haircut in him, and his choice of clothing today was a masterpiece, that beige suit with a purple turtle neck top was a perfect mix. He looked at you with confusion in his eyes, he quickly brushed that look a way and sais,

“My parents are here, they're asking for you” Are they? was the only thing in your mind

You walked to him with a smile taking his hand, to greet them and most of the guest that have arrived since you little rendezvous to the balcony, you were begging that nobody would notice your weight, your thighs were clearly giving a show in that dress, god I hope the concealer is strong enough to cover the sleep bags in my eyes, do I still have lipstick on?

“Y/N!” His father greeted you “You look so beautiful tonight! How is your thesis going? Are you close to the finish line?” His father always looked happy to see you, but was he?

“Mr. Kim! Thank you! And yes I'm close to the finish line, if everything goes as planned, I will be able to present it in a few weeks” You responded with a smile giving him a hug and doing the same with his mother. She always looked at you, at your hair with curiosity?  Of course 4B coils were not the norm in Korea, but Korean beauty standards weren't going to pressure you into hating your beautiful hair.

After polite talks and greetings for a whole night with people that were close to both of you, in professional and personal level, the night was over, Namjoon and you finished saying good bye to the last guest and his agent, the night was a success, as you knew it would be, Namjoon never fails to amaze you, you saw him the whole night , moving around and enchanting everyone, you get it, you too were enchanted by him.

Finally being able to get rid of the uncomfortable shoes and the red lace around your waist that made the dress even tighter and letting Namjoon in the living room talking with the service that was in charge of getting everything clean up and tidy again, walking straight to your room, dreaming of the comfort of your bed, you forgot all the things that were placed on top of it, because you didn't trust any of the frail art pieces to be in the open while everybody drank and mingle, with not other option, you moved to the balcony, walking down to the kitchen first taking a glass of wine with you and politely smiling to the service, Namjoon was out of your sight.

Sitting on the cold floor of the balcony letting your hair free from the detailed bun that it was made into, enjoying the silence and peace of the night. You felt empty, maybe too much stress plus the insecurities in your relationship were passing you the bills, in a few months you would be 30, and if you get your PhD granted, working as a full time curator in the national art museum of Seoul, just what you wanted, but was Namjoon on your side for it? you didn't know.

“Babe” He called, putting a blanket on top of you, you did not realize how cold you were until he did so “ Tired? they are almost finishing, our room is ready, lets go” 

You looked at him from the floor with your face resting on the wooden bench, giving him a little nod, but your body was not responding to the idea of standing up, maybe you were too tired, maybe it was that third glass of wine, reminding you that alcohol was not your forte.

“Too tired? “ He said lifting you up, you hugged him, getting flooded by his strong musky scent.

Before you could realize it you were already on the bedroom, headlight turn off, the only light in the room coming from the bed stands, Namjoon sat you on the edge of the bed looking at you with curious eyes, his hands on you waist, you could feel his breathing, warmth, “Can we talk in the morning?” you ask, with almost no energy to spare.

“Is everything ok?” he asked back, now with a worried look on his face.

“Yes, I am exhausted, let's talk tomorrow please” you said standing up making your way to the bathroom, trying to unzip the dress off and failing. 

“Ok” He said, hugging you from the back, there it was again his scent, it made you feel so calm, at peace.

He started to remove the dress from you, leaving you there exposed to his eyes, and to yours. You could see the reflection in the mirror, how he was hugging you even harder, tighter, Namjoon loved you, you knew that.  He started to remove his own clothes, making you move the other side of the sink to remove your makeup.

You heard the water running in the tub, namjoon got close to you naked, “Want to take a bath?” 

“No, I’ll take a quick shower and go to bed”

“Ok darling “ He said, kissing your neck. Making you move.

He flicked due to the inspected action “I'm not in the mood to have sex” You said, before he could say anything.

“Is ok, I just want to feel you…” he said with a hurt look, you took a step back using the shower as an excuse. Namjoon was even more confused, because you never rejected physical touch, so it felt as if you were rejecting him, but you weren’t, you just wanted to reject the feeling that you had for him, because it felt like you had everything to lose.

It was around 2AM when you two were in bed together, Namjoon pulled you close, and you couldn't say no, you couldn't do that to him again. Nighttime passed through your eyes seeing the sun rise that sunday morning, you weren't able to sleep just thinking about all the possibilities, weighing your options, you could finish your phd and go back to your country, even though it was useless, jobs for a art history doctor, were not easy to find everywhere, you didn't think that you would be able to continue to live in korea after breaking up with him… the thought made you sob, you couldn't stay in bed anymore, so you quietly stood up, walking to your safe place the balcony.

The living room was like it always use to be everything clean up and in its place, you saw the blanket that namjoon used on you last night perfectly folded, taking it to the balcony with you, a cup of tea to clean your mind and a lonely space for you to cry in peace, and there you were cuddling up in the chair, with the cold morning breeze it was 6AM, but you were crying, because there were no other options for you, you knew, Namjoon would not settle for you, you'll never live up to the standard needed to be his wife, so it was better to finish it now, than wait for later.

Only your cries and the mobile hanging in the side could be heard, so that was it, like that, it was going to be over.

“Y/N?!” He called, and you used all your strength to hide your tears, but of course he noticed.

“Are you ok honey? Talk to me” You could hear the worry in his voice, you really tried to pull back the tears, but seeing him did not help

And there, both of you were, him hugging you and giving you solace, until your crying stopped, and all you could feel was his heartbeat, his hand going up and down comforting you. There he was for you, and you were about to end a 4 year old relationship.

You meet namjoon 7 months into arriving in seoul, while you were doing your master your favorite professor suggested you to pursue a doctorate in Korea, she knew people, she could get you a internship in Seoul’s national museum while you studied, and of course she knew people in HanYang university, you knew she was an important woman in the area, but you sub estimated her contacts and power, and there you were a year later accepted into Hanyang university with a full scholarship and paid internship, you didn't know how, but the rumor that you were there due to nepotism spread all over your department reaching your workplace, while it was true that your professor helped you, the scholarship was won fairly due to your grades and the ingenuity of your master's thesis. It made your work and student life harder, as if the racism and colorism wasn't enough, but of course you weren't there to make friends, you were there to finish your studies and make a name for yourself. 

That just made everyone hated you more, your coworkers thought it would be great for you, a newly hire to conduct a private view of a new exposition for a VIP, at that point you did not know if it was the racism, the nepotism rumor or because they did not want to make it themselves; but at the end that's how you met namjoon, of course you knew who he was, you might not been his fan, but you knew what his impact was, the quality of his music, and the power he had. His whole presence made you nervous, but you weren't going to risk your job nor lose the professionalism. He ended up being there because the director invited him to look at the new collection that you direct boss had picked, but he wanted it to be private, he wanted to enjoy it, and that's how the both of you ended up there, sitting on the floor of the museum admiring the work behind the main art piece.

“Now I understand, why he wanted me to look at it in person” he said with a smile “it is magnific, it was worthy escaping from the studio for this”

“I know, art can free you, it's like the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe” you said, genuinely happy, because he was really calm and easy to talk to, so you weren't nervous anymore, it was a success.

“Indeed” he said looking at you, you felt the warm in your face because of the way he was looking at you, he stood up and helped you too “It has been a pleasure Y/N, meeting you and the collection, I think now I am supposed to take a photo” You got frozen en place, his voice was deep and raspy, it got you flustered, you came back to your senses

“Y-yes, you do, gimme a minute to look for the camera” You said moving quickly.

You took various photos of him, he looked great in every single one, Namjoon was a handsome man, and on top of that he was so humble and easy, maybe you expectatives where in the low as soon as you heard the world VIP or maybe Namjoon was just different, he made your heart move faster.

While you were tidying up he approached you with a question,

“Y/N would you like to take a photo with me?” it surprised you , but you did not have the ability to say no.

He pulled you close, you didn't know what to do, and he noticed, so he just told you to smile, you did so, but only god knows how you ended up looking in that picture. After that he said his farewell, and you could see his bodyguards getting closer than they were before.

It was such an experience it shaked your life for the next days, you could only think of him and his strong scents, it was so good, like a forest, as the freshness of the summer, Namjoon really did a number on you, you googled half of his life in those days, and started to listing to his music, it was really good, now you understood even more his fame. At the moment that you thought that you were forgetting the flustered feeling that he led on you, he posted it, he posted the photo that he took with you, you had a start sticker on your face, and his caption left you thinking about him even more,

art can free you, the whole world shut down for a minute and you can breathe

Did he post that because of you? Did he?

====================================

It was a normal thursday, you were in the subway on your way to work, thinking about the essay you had due this sunday, it was almost done, but you felt it was missing something, moonchild playing on your airpods. The day promised to be rainy, it always rained in seoul, but not in the sad depressing way it rained in London, Seoul’s rain was calm and nostalgic, sometimes it was full of rage. 

You didn't have much to do at work that day, the inauguration of the exposition was a success, you replied to the emails you had, sent some codes and updated the maintenance date of some artworks.

“Miss. Y/N, Mr. Park is asking to see you, if you could go to his office please” the voice caught you by surprise, it came from Mr. Shin, executive assistant of the museum director, the surprise was more in him coming directly to see you instead of sending you an email. Have something happened, did you mess up something…

You colleagues gave you strange and curious looks, it wasn't a normal situation, and their looks worked as a further confirmation. 

Walking through the administration hallways behind Mr. Shin, got you nervous, what could've gone wrong why are they calling you, are you fired? no, R.R.H.H would’ve called for that. Mr. Shin led you to the office door and retired, you could not bring yourself to knock at the door scared, but there was no other way of escaping it. You knocked on the door twice, until you heard a deep voice say, “Come in”

You opened the door using all your strength and calm “Good morning Mr. Park, how may I help-

You stopped on your word when you saw Namjoon sitting in the middle of the room, Mr. Park's office was big, two mauve sofas facing each other in front of the big brown desk, and Namjoon was seated in one of them looking at you with a smile.

“Hello ‘Y/N” his deep voice filling the room, “Please sit down’” he said signaling the sofa in front of him

You were frozen in your step, why was Namjoon there? you quickly got back to your senses, and greeted him sitting in front of him, you didn't know if the nervousness was visible, your hands were sweaty, while they rested on your knees.

“I know you got up here thinking you were going to see YoungJo, I am sorry for that, but I did not wanted to make a fuss, hope you understand” you nodded in comprehension, of course it was going to be worse if Kim Nam Joon came calling for you, it was already weird Mr. Park doing so.

“I'm going to be direct, would you like to work for me?” The shock was painted in your face “I want someone to curate some art pieces for my parents house, and for my house too, since our conversation last week, I feel that you would be perfect for it, we share the same art vision”

You couldn't say a word, he was waiting for your response, but since you stood there in silence he continue “Money is not the problem, nor is the time, please name your price and tell me when we can start working together”

“I-I, are you sure? wouldn't you like someone more professional for this? someone with more experience in the area” you muttered, still lacking the words.

“No” he said solemnly “I am not looking for experience or somebody with a name in this, I want you and your fresh views, I read your master thesis, and I know your working in your doctorate, as I said your vision is what I want, it amuse me”

“Can I think about it?” You said, but what was there to think.

“Of course” he said “Here look, this is my personal number, you can call me or add me to Kakao, and my agent number in case I don't respond, but it is unlikely” he handed you both of the cards, looking at your shocked face with a smile. “If someone asks, just tell them that YoungJo confused you with someone else, ok?”

You nodded, still feeling out of place, looking at his almond shaped eyes, he said goodbye and left, letting you there. You slowly stood up, and walked to your department, art acquisitions, as soon as you arrived your coworkers started whispering. You sat down keeping face, when you were about to start working, Anja, who seated next to you asked,

“Hey Y/N what was that about?” with curiosity flooding her face, you smile and said loud enough,

“It was nothing, looks like they were calling someone else and somehow they got to me” you said shrugging your shoulders, resting importance to it, with you saying that the whispering and the looks finished.

The rest of the day was normal, but you still could feel the nervousness in your gut, he read your thesis, and wanted you to help him curate art for his family house and his home, it feel surreal, to good to be truth, but if it was, the opportunity was amazing, Namjoon would become your first private client, the scholarship money was decent, and you pay wasn’t that bad, but you knew that whatever Namjoon would pay you would be enough to pay rent until you found a space in the campus dorms. You weren't sure yet, there wasn't a big reason to say no, but you felt insecure. What if your work does not live up to his expectations?

You arrived home putting those thoughts to rest, working on your assignments and studying your lectures, before you could realize it, it was already past midnight and you knew what you were going to say.

Hello Mr. Kim,

I would love to work with you, please let’s discuss terms and conditions.

Have a great day, “Y/N”

12:51 am

Looking at your phone screen maybe it was too short? but it didn't need any more it was concise, you hit sent, without realizing, that you did not programmed the text message to be sent at 9 in the morning, panicking looking at the screen, until those 3 hell looking dots started blinking,

Amazing, and yes I’ll have a great day ;)

knj

12:52 am

===========================================

And there you were the next day, in front of Namjoon’s workplace building, he asked you to come the next day to discuss the job requirements and pay, you set a 3PM meeting with him, going to the big doors of HYBE ent. you were nervous hand sweating approaching the reception, you'd feel the looks, but is not like you cared anymore, but maybe you should had hided your hair today, everyone at work was already use to it, but this was a new environment, the comfort of your usual places made you forget where you were.

“Hello good evening, I have a meeting” You say approaching one of the well groomed ladies in front of you, she looked you up and down, and say,

“Excuse you?” Your korean might not be the best, but it wasn't bad, now being here for almost 8 months it had clearly improved, you repeated yourself, and then she ‘understood’

“Ok, May I know the name of the person and their department please?” she said with a smirk in her face,

“I don't know his department, the name is Kim Nam Joon” she and the two ladies at her side looked at you like you were a rare species. 

“Are you sure of that?” She said with a shuckle, she wanted to laugh, it was clearly on her face.

“Yes I am sure, I wouldn't have come here if I wasn't” you said annoyed.

“Miss please, don't shame yourself in here, please go, or I'll be obligated to call security” the disgusted expression on her face saying everything you needed to know.

“Could you at least call him to verify?” keeping the last strand of politeness you asked.

“No. Please leave or I'll call security” she said standing up signaling the big crystal doors.

You were mad, not knowing what to do walking down to the doors, hearing his laughs and the looks of the people around, until of course your brain reacted, you were a smart girl after all,

Hello Mr. Kim I am already here

2:58 pm 

Ok, amazing please come to my studio they'll tell you the floor ;p

2:59 am

I am not being allowed, I went to the front desk and they asked me to go, should I?

3:00 pm

What? why? please dont leave, youre in the lobby right ill come to you

3:00 pm

You read the last text, still being mad but now you knew that namjoon actually wanted you there, you stood close to the door still with some of the looks in you, but they couldn't send you out, you haven't done anything and you could easily say you were going to the store. 5 minutes passed and you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket Namjoon was calling you.

“Hi Y/N? on what side are you?” his voice sounded agitated, as if he had run.

“Hello, yes, I’m close to the doors, I have a white cardigan and a brown plaid scarf” 

“I think I see you” and when he said that, you heard the commotion, there he was, his hair looking frizzy, like he had been passing his fingers through it. He had a pale green sweatshirt, a dark brown jacket and light brown trousers.

You heard the call finish, and he was getting closer to you, the people in the lobby were looking at him, and you were too but not with the same eyes. Namjoon looked so hot, he smiled at you, he was happy to see you and that calmed your heart.

“Hello Y/N, I thought you would leave” he said, extending his hand to you, you shaked hands with him.

“I almost did” you said, trying to conceal the discomfort in your voice.

“What happened, why couldn't you come in? it was just a call away” he said smiling to the people around you, you started walking with him and two bodyguards started walking at the sides.

“I explained that to the lady but she did not care to confirm that”

“Who?” the demanding tone clearly in his voice he stopped to look at you, his eyes waiting for an answer

“T-he lady with the ponytail” you mutter, namjoon’s eyes intimidate you.

“Is ok” he said, dragging you to the front desk, “Can I have a visitors pass for MY guest” he was clearly annoyed, and you were too, the face in the lady was priceless, she was between shock and disbelief, until she actually needed to talk,

“C-can I have some form of ID? " she asked, you opened your purse to take your passport, going directly to your work visa.

=========================================

Namjoon drove you to his studio, scanning his face on the door. The hallway to it was beautifully decorated with small and big art pieces, Namjoon really had a great taste, his studio was small but cozy, you could feel how he crafted every space himself, it screamed his whole personality. 

“Please sit down” he said and you did so “Before we begin I am obligated to made you sign a NDA, is just protocol” he said sitting in from of you handing you a folder

“Yes, I understand” you said, giving a quick read to the NDA, you signed because it was ok and handed it to him.

“Ok, perfect. Do you want something to drink? I’m making myself a coffee” he stood up waiting for your answer.

“Water would be fine”

“I don't like to beat around the bush Y/N, I want you to pick beautiful and meaningful pieces for me, I would do it myself” he brought a glass of water for you, while holding a cup of smoking coffee “But I am pretty busy right now and I like you, and your style. Your thesis in Seurat, was an enjoyable read, and I feel that your fresh vision would be perfect for what I want” He sat down in front of you taking a sip, you did the same, Namjoon made you nervous, his aura was intoxicating.

“I get it, still, I don't have a full experience curating, I might have the theory but I stick lack the practice” you said being honest

“I'm giving the practice to you, what about 15% for every piece you pick for me? " he said with a smile that made his dimples show up.

You smiled at him “What about 20%?” You smirked.

“25%, do we have a deal?” he put down his cup to look you directly in the eyes.

“W-we do.” you smiled at him nervously due to his gaze.

“You could've said 50% and I would have said yes. I just want you.” He said standing up, giving you his hand, his words made you lose your breath.

=======================

from delululand with love, kive <3

[eldritch-flower]

WIP INTRO: "SMILE"

and to sadness he was drawn like rot and decay. he would sow his legacy amongst the bones of the dead and become witness to the new world. a world void of all fear and hurt and hatred. and all they would ever do is 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦.

SYNOPSIS:

Everyone knew the stories. The tales of the desiccated corpses he left behind, drained and dry - nothing more than a husk - and of the sadistic moniker that emblazoned them. Smiley, they called him, apt and fitting but forever more than the murderer would deserve. He brought with him shadows of a darker age of humanity wherever he went: A shadow of evil, authoritarian darkness that swept through every town with a ferocity unparalleled by any natural means. His presence was like a dust cloud, grinding the hopes and beliefs of whatever sorry town he made his prize - crumbling them to piles of ash and soot and pain.

And everyone knew the old myths that followed him, whispers of Ones of obsidian and midnight, of brilliant sun and gold. How they wreaked havoc for centuries before their disappearance. Gone, without a trace. Or so it was told in the scripture, written for hope and betterment to prevail when there was none to be seen. It is known that a People can forget the darkness of their past, see around the night sky to the dawn ever-coming. But there are some things that should not be forgotten. And Smiley knew; this was their first mistake.

Humans have grown weak in His absence, fighting petty wars through every fault of their own. They slaughter one another without means to sacrifice, with no avid reason, and have come to disbelieve all the fruitful truths once known. And deep down beneath the Bone-Yard, beneath all the stagnant rot and mold and maggots burying their way through their own flesh, He makes his way through the piles of decay. Smiley knows it won't be long now. The crescendo of frothing-white crashing against the cliffs were all that were keeping Him at bay. But now, it seems, He has finally learned how to swim.

or, alternatively...

When the notorious serial killer known only by the alias 'Smiley' makes his presence in Perthlochry apparent, the small Welsh town's lacklusterpolice department do all they can to prevent the spree of the seven deaths that he is renowned for. But it's not enough - it never was going to be. Matters aren't helped when the first victim is the Deputy's very own sister, found torn and drained behind her apartment with a crimson grin decorating her pale face.

Detective Tempest understands why he's being distanced from the crimes. Personal bias is a dangerous game to play in the land of law enforcement. But with nothing but loose ends and a handful of curious witnesses, the entire town plummets to chaos. That's when it becomes clear:

There are worse things out there than Smiley. And they, too, are on their way to Perthlochry.

BASICS:

Genre(s) - Supernatural-horror, thriller, crime

Length - novel, ~90,000 words

Setting - A fictional town in Western Wales, UK, called 'Perthlochry'... present day, I think (could be late 90s/early 2000s, though, we'll see)

POV- Third Person (limited)

Including - LGBTQ+ characters (on the down-low), exes to lovers, buddy-cop dynamics, women in STEM, Evil vs slightly less-Evil, Antagonist turned Ally, (kind of) the Chosen One

This is not a romance novel. There is a romantic pairing between 2 main characters, but it's just kinda... there.

VICTIMS:

Connor Tempest: Perthlochry's Deputy Chief of Police & lead homicide detective

Amos Christian Bancroft: English horror author

Alani Fisher: PhD student of Forensic Psychology & intern

Alder Llewellyn: Highschool student

Violet Llewellyn: Highschool student

Others:

Cooper Miller

Chelsea Wynne

Daniella Reeves

William Cadwaldr

Rose Miller-Llewellyn

WARNINGS:

"SMILE" is a supernatural thriller aimed towards mature readers - so, basically, it's (new) adult.

It's... it's probably the goriest thing I've ever planned out, and it's definitely the darkest. That being said, here be the content warnings, so ya'll beware:

Strong Language

Child Abuse, Endangerment and Death

(Very) Graphic Violence

Death & Murder

Misogyny

Mental Illness

Police Brutality

Abusive Relationships

Religious Connotations

Cults & the Occult

Dubious/Lack of Consent

Welsh People Great British Humour

PLAYLIST:

Shame on The Night - Dio

Killer - The Hoosiers

Night Prowler - AC/DC

Alone + Easy Target - Foo Fighters

One Of My Turns - Pink Floyd

Life Goes On - The Damned

Voices - Alice In Chains

Hunted Down - Soundgarden

Children of the Damned - Iron Maiden

My Iron Lung - Radiohead

[phdguides]

Top 5 PhD Thesis Writing Services Providers in India

The process of completing original research and presenting findings in a well-organized, logical, and academic document known as a thesis is referred to as thesis writing. It is usually necessary to finish a thesis for a Master's or Doctorate, or any higher degree.

Pick your thesis writing services for your PhD.

Writing a thesis is a difficult and time-consuming procedure that calls for thorough preparation, analytical thinking, and strong communication abilities. Not only does it show that the student is capable of conducting independent research and adding new information to their academic area, but it also makes a substantial addition to the field of study.

Here are Top 5 Thesis Writing Service providers in India:

1. Writing Tree (Pune, Maharashtra) - They have a 4.8 star rating on Google with over 150 reviews.

Writing Tree provides the Best PhD Thesis Writing Services in India in every field of study. Writing Tree services include PhD Thesis Writing Services, Synopsis Writing Services, Research Paper Writing Services, Plagiarism Removal Services, and Book Writing Services

Writing Tree is PhD research writing services provider company based in Pune, Maharashtra India. A wide range of services is available from Writingtree, including help with Topic Selection, PhD research proposal, PhD synopsis, journal paper development, and research paper writing and editing.

2. Thesis India- They have a 3.0-star rating on Google with over 21 reviews.

To support improved PhD and master's research, Thesis India provides a wide range of consultation, writing, editing, and statistical help services. They provide thorough assistance to research academics at every turn, from choosing a topic to drafting a thesis and conducting a review. Additionally, they link the researchers with eminent PhD writers, editors, and statisticians and give them free examples. PhD thesis topic assistance, proposal/synopsis development, PhD thesis writing, research paper writing and publication, and many PhD research services.

3. The Scholar Center for Research & Consultancy (The SCRC)- They have a 4.9-star rating on Google with over 114 reviews.

SCRC Provides Comprehensive Support To Research Scholars At Every Stage, From Topic Selection To Writing A Thesis And Its Review. You Can Trust On Us For Guaranteed Results. For Years We Have Continuously Mentored Thousands Of Students To Achieve Success with their Ph.D.

The skilled customer service staff and knowledgeable research team are involved in constructing the study project and methodology.

Expert PhD writing services of SCRC, including Journal Writing Services, Thesis Writing Services, and Research Paper Writing Services are customized to match your unique requirements. The complexities of academic writing in many areas may be handled by our staff of knowledgeable thesis and dissertation writers.

4. HIGS Software Solutions- They have a 4.4-star rating on Google with over 231 reviews.

Complete research support is offered by HIGS Software Solutions, which includes composing PhD dissertations, literature reviews, proposals, research papers, manuscript editing, paper publication, viva support, and more. Supported by more than a hundred seasoned research specialists, HIGS provides excellent and reasonably priced advice in a variety of fields. Their experts guarantee completely tailored research work across all disciplines with their superior research knowledge, from subject selection to thesis writing.

5. Chankya Research- They have a 4.0-star rating on Google with over 48 reviews.

An Indian company called Chanakya Research specializes in offering master's and doctorate students individualized help. Since 2006, Chanakya Research, supported by ELK Education Consultants Pvt. Ltd., has empowered PhD candidates. Their team of professionals is dedicated to providing you with ethical, cost-effective, and efficient support so that your research endeavors are successful.

Here's another thing to consider:

Selecting a thesis writing service needs cautious thought. This is a clarification of the statement:

Consideration: This entails being aware of your requirements (research subject, timeline, financial constraints), as well as the advantages and disadvantages of utilizing a service.

Examine many service providers, evaluate their offerings in terms of experience, cost, and turnaround time, and go through customer testimonials.

Moral Guidelines: Think about the effects on academic honesty. Make sure you will comprehend and own the final thesis, and that the provider provides help rather than ghostwriting.

Effective Communication: Verify that the service provider is aware of your requirements and is capable of producing a thesis that complies with your university's regulations.

By following these steps, you can increase your chances of finding a reputable thesis writing service provider in India that can genuinely support your academic journey.

[workupload]

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[chatwithvera]

VISIT: https://chatwithvera,com ... ✅Buy or Rent Surprised by Oxford this Month ✅Enter to Win Vimeo Code to watch "SURPRISED BY OXFORD" ... Synopsis: Caro Drake, a brilliant but emotionally guarded American student, arrives at the University of Oxford with the goal of attaining her PhD. Through a turbulent friendship with a charming young man, she begins to open herself up to mystery, vulnerability, and love. ... My thoughts: I was moved by the photographic skill and professionalism that captured the beauty of the ancient buildings and countryside that make up Oxford. The scant coloration and nearly noir presentation encapsulated the tonality of the ancient wood doors, walls, floors, beams. This sober coloration also tended to lend depth and seriousness to the troubled and deep seated philosophical thoughts the young students were experiencing. ... I found it to have one troubling aspect in that the clarity of speech of the young cast (this is not in reference to a British or Scottish accent which some characters used), make it difficult to follow their discussions which are actually at the core of the theological slant of the story. ... However, this is definitely a film worth spending time watching and one I highly recommend. ... #SurprisedByOxfordMIN #momentuminfluencernetwork #sponsored #giveaway Disclosure: (Secret word: Surprised) Many thanks to Evolve Studios for providing a sample of the product for this review. Opinions are 100% my own. 

[jogkin]

https://www.tutorsindia.com/blog/sample-sizes-for-saturation-in-qualitative-research/

Dissertation services and help are offered in Tutors India, which critically reviews a paper on sample size in qualitative research.

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UK

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INDIA

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[supremewriter]

"The Ultimate Writing Tool for Scholars: Supreme Writer"

Writing a synopsis can be a daunting task for scholars, especially when it comes to research writing. It requires a lot of time, effort, and focus to come up with a comprehensive and well-structured synopsis that accurately conveys the essence of their research. This is where Supreme Writer comes into play.

Supreme Writer is an AI tool specifically designed for research writing for scholars. It is equipped with advanced algorithms that help scholars create a synopsis in no time. With Supreme Writer, scholars can easily summarize their research and present it in a concise, clear, and engaging manner. The tool's natural language processing technology ensures that the synopsis is written in a language that is easy to understand and accessible to a wider audience.

Not only does Supreme Writer save scholars time, it also helps them improve the quality of their synopsis. The tool uses deep learning algorithms to analyze the research and identify key elements that need to be highlighted in the synopsis. This helps scholars ensure that their synopsis is well-organized, relevant, and accurate.

Furthermore, Supreme Writer also provides scholars with a wealth of resources and tools to help them improve their writing skills. With its built-in style guide and editor, scholars can easily make changes to their synopsis and ensure that it meets the requirements of their institution.

In conclusion, Supreme Writer is the ultimate writing tool for scholars. Whether you're a PhD candidate or a seasoned researcher, this AI tool can help you save time, improve the quality of your synopsis, and make your research writing process more efficient and enjoyable. So if you're looking for a tool to help you take your research writing to the next level, be sure to give Supreme Writer a try today : supremewriter.io

[wrirkresearch0]

Get Expert Research Synopsis Writing Assistance at Wrirk.com - India's Leading Academic Writing Assistance

Are you seeking expert guidance for writing your PhD thesis or research paper writing? Look no further than our professional services at Wrirk.com. We are a trusted name in the industry, offering a comprehensive range of writing assistance tailored specifically for PhD candidates in India.

Our team of experienced writers is well-versed in the required formats, including Synopsis Format,thesis writing,research proposal writing, and data analysis services, ensuring that your work meets all the necessary requirements. With our help, your journey towards achieving your academic goals becomes smoother and more efficient. Contact us now to avail of the best PhD thesis writing services in India!

[shallicomparetheetolagrenouille]

2022 in books

I will spoil the whole thing after the read-more, just so you know.

Language: Italian (translation)

Original title: The Book of Two Ways

So, first of all: the cover is very cool and I first noticed it on one of those big tables in a bookshop claiming that all the books there were must-read-at-least-once-in-one’s-life. Then hesitated, the book was not there anymore, and then only found it by googling what I remembered of the synopsis.

That said, the protagonist does not look much like that, but I accept it because it’s so sylized that it makes sense that her face is not pictured faithfully on it.

The book is about this woman, Dawn, who finds herself reassessing her whole life and trying to reconcile her dream career (egyptologist)/first love with her actual (fulfilling) life/the family she built for herself. What the synopsis makes you believe is that this happens when she survives an airplane crash - so what I thought would happen (because of the titular two ways) was that we’d follow her past in Egypt for her PhD through flashbacks and, at the same time, see her in the present coming to terms with what she wants to do with her life: go back to her passion for egyptology and her first great love or try and mend her little family.

What actually happens is this: the book starts with the airplane crash and her surviving it. Then the ‘earth way/Egypt’ storyline and the ‘water way/Boston’ storyline start and you have the impression that they are either-or: after the crash she decides on one of the two ‘ways’ and we are following both. The whole point of the Egyptian two ways is that they are paths to the afterlife, so they have the same destination - what I thought was that, somehow, the two would merge at the end and Dawn would get to the final point she was always meant to reach.

Except it was all a lie! Not in the sense that she is a coma and is imagining the earth/water lives, but that they are not parallel ways at all! Earth come after water, because the earth line chronologically starts after the water line and the airplane crash actually happens at the end of the earth storyline - and then, sure, they merge for the reader, but they had never been separate.

And, while the read as a whole is good, this made me feel lied-to.

That said, her job as an end-of-life doula is very interesting and emotional and her original path to be an egyptologist is obviously fascinating. I felt like all the main charatcers were well-developed (aside from the Egyptian characters, who are all a mostly-unnamed mass of underscibed workers - ugh!), the only one who suffered a bit was Brian, who felt a bit too-good-to-be-true in the flashbacks and a bit removed from reality in the present. Having them develop their relationship and marrying for the tax benefits in a couple of paragraphs in a flashback really hurt their believability as this perfect couple as described by Dawn’s brother.

All in all, it was nice, though!

[peaamlipoetrydoctor]

Educational Fabulations ~ Published

Very pleased to see that this academic-sci-fi text book is now OUT in the world!

This is the publisher's blurb about what the book is "FOR" -

This highly original collection presents speculative fiction as fiction-based research to re-imagine education in the future. Given the particular convergence of economic and governmental pressures in educational institutions today, schools represent imaginative sites especially well-suited to interrogation through an SF lens.

The relevance for education of the exploration and interrogation of themes related to technology, human nature, and social organization is evident; yet the speculative fiction approach is unique in its harnessing of creative capacities to envision alternatives.

The contributions in this collection are generated from educational experience and research, drawing on scholarship in curriculum studies and teacher education and on the authors' experiences and imaginations as teachers, teacher educators, educational scholars, and human beings. 

And I was delighted to see book-jacket praise from one of my favourite scholar/authors, Patricia Leavy, who has written extensively on artful inquiry and the role of creativity in "coming to know" -

“This book is a beautifully rendered collection of compelling and thought-provoking stories. This visionary text illustrates how speculative fiction can be used to help us reimagine education. Conrad and Wiebe have assembled an impressive range of contributors*, with diverse writing styles, to showcase the power of speculative fiction to question, challenge, and reconstruct what the educational landscape is, how it functions, and what it may become. This is a valuable text for anyone interested in education or creative approaches to research.”

— Patricia Leavy, PhD, author of Method Meets Art: Arts-Based Research Practice

*Wow! This includes me! ~ Admittedly, I'm adding more to the "range" of contributors than to the other part. But still!

~ My First Published Chapter (woop!) ~ The Time Tumblers

You can read about my chapter (p.51-64) and what I was trying to achieve in writing it - via the link here:

What I think that blog *doesn't* say is that - just in general - I really LOVE time travel stories. For this one, I tried to make sure that I was staying within some basic philosophical logics (Causal loops! The grandfather paradox*!).

But honestly, when I'm reading or watching a good Time Travel yarn - I actually don't really need those rules to be obeyed, providing that breaking them doesn't rob the story of all its jeopardy (all its fun!).

*via Brandon Sanderson's lectures on writing science fiction / fantasy, I was recently directed to this short story treatment of TGP:

[pxgeturner]

“I want to stay up with you.Tom Riddle x gn!Reader

Warnings: none! :)

AU: Hogwarts has both HS/secondary and university levels.

Themes: established relationship (marriage), fluff, late night cuddles, Tommi being a workaholic, size difference if you squint, microscopic bit of angst at the end.

Synopsis: Tom is up late working on a project and you present yourself as moral support.

Word count: 568

Something fell and went bump in the night, stirring you awake. Tom hisses at the paperweight that went over the edge of the desk. You giggle at your parseltongue, constantly amused by his reptilian habit.

“I woke you, Baby, I’m sorry.” he picks up the object.

You crawl out from under the covers, making your way to the edge of the bed, perching yourself there. “Everything’s okie Tommi, I couldn’t sleep anyway.” you sleepily smile at him. He gives you a look because he knows you were sleeping like a rock. Of course he does, you are his girl, his pride, his joy. He keeps track of everything about you. Your cute little snores aren’t something he’s likely to ignore.

But he gives you a chance at proving yourself ‘right’ “What am I working on?”

“Your thesis,” you pointedly say, confident that your ground is unshakeable.

“And what is my thesis on?” his tone is accusatory.

You point your finger at him and lower one leg onto the ground to somewhat stand, but quickly lower it to pull your nightie over your bits “Magical—” you can feel yourself start to fumble so you start over, “Magical—” you fail to come up with anything, so you concede to your smartypants husband, “I can’t remember right now.” you slump against the thick bed poster.

He chuckles at your attempts “get back in bed Lovie Dear, you need sleep.”

You pout at him, “I want to stay up with you, Tommi.”

“You have to give the divination O.W.L exam tomorrow.” he reasons. In that moment you hate his logical mind, why can’t he just let you comfort him sometimes. Now he has you doubtful of what you want to do.

“I want to stay up with you”. You repeat. Your husband takes a deep breath, dipping his head back and bringing it back up as he exhales.

“Come here,” he beckons, and you scamper the few steps over to him. Tom situates himself and tells you he’s ready. Immediately after, you snuggle into his lap.

“Talk to me Doc,” you tease.

“You know I’m only on my masters”

You scoff, “As if you’re not gonna get your Phd.”

“You get thirty minutes before I tuck you in either electively or by force.”

“Use all the fancy words you want. I’m getting my cuddles and you’re not gonna make me get off anytime soon” you smile up at him like the Cheshire Cat.

“Oh? How are you so sure?” he asks.

“I’m a divination teacher, I know these things.” you wave your fingers at him and make mock ghost noises Ooooohhhh, OooooOoooohhhhhh.

Again, you make him chuckle. “As you wish, sweetheart.”

“THE MESSAGES I DIVINE ARE NEVER WRONG.” you boom, to which Tom shushes you.

He puts a finger to your lips, “Darling, you need to be quiet.”

“Who cares I got what I wanted.” you smile smugly. You hear him whisper the word brat under his breath.

“Hey! Lately all you do is work, and work, and work. I miss my husband.” you cross your arms and he stares. “I think I deserve to be a little selfish once and a while. I've been supportive.” you whisper the last bit.

“Thank you, little one. I couldn’t do this without you.” he kisses the top of your head. Satisfied, you mumble a goodnight and burrow yourself further into his warmth.

[workupload]

How to conduct a bibliometric analysis?

Tutors India offers assistance in quantitative studies and data analyses and explains the steps to conduct a bibliometric analysis.

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[ahtsumu]

long shots ; miya osamu

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

synopsis: miya osamu is the teacher’s assistant for food chemistry i. you can’t stop thinking about him.

tag(s): college!au, slow burn, TA!miya osamu, grad student!reader, fluff, reader is a go-getter!! ; warning(s): profanity, suggestive themes, talk of insecurities and imposter syndrome ; wc: 5.6k

a/n: happy birthday to @starrysamu​! i love u. pls excuse any errors. i’ll weed them out later! btw this fic is not a sugar daddy au LOL

HIS NAME IS Miya Osamu and he always looks like he has it all figured out. Comes in every class with his black hair perfectly tousled, the sleeves of his dark button-up rolled to his elbows, a cup of coffee in one hand and the strap of that black messenger bag in another.

“He drives a BMW, did ya know?” Isla says in your ear one morning. Your only friend in Food Chemistry I gives you a pointed look before sitting back in her chair in the lecture hall with a smirk on her face. “Saw it this morning. Bet he’s loaded.” The two of you watch the subject in question walk across the classroom and settle in his seat at the table in the corner.

“Shut up,” you whisper with wide eyes. A grin–– far from innocent–– makes its way onto your face. “Imagine being Miya Osamu’s sugar baby.”

“He’s not old enough to be a sugar daddy.” Isla looks at her nails disinterestedly. “And that’s too many AUs in one. He’s already the TA, for god’s sake. This isn’t some shitty Wattpad novel.”

A light giggle slips out of your lips. “I can see the title already. My Sugar Daddy is the TA?!”

Now, if anyone had been listening in on your conversation, they would’ve assumed many things about you. The first being that you’re both gold-diggers. This is untrue–– at least, in your case. Isla, you’re not so sure about, given how your friendship only goes back about one month. But she tags you in memes on Instagram so maybe it’s as real as real gets. Their second assumption would be that you have a big fat crush on your TA. That one’s complicated, mostly because it’s true, but only kinda. It all started in the second week of school when Isla caught you staring at Osamu and slipped you a post-it note with both your initials encircled in a heart. And, because you’re shameless with a good sense of humour, you made a show of kissing it while she was looking. And thus began your meaningless but incredibly entertaining, satirical, co-written fantasy about Miya Osamu.

It also didn’t help that on the first essay you got back, Isla’s paper had been marked up with “are you sure?”s and “this is a jump”s, while yours had “excellent reasoning” and “insightful analysis”. You’d even gotten a little comment at the bottom: y/n, fantastic work. you should speak up in class more often. –– OM

But Miya Osamu doesn’t play favourites because the next week you’d gotten another essay back, this time with another comment at the bottom: y/n, not your best work. you could’ve done better by connecting your first paragraph with the second using grant’s reading. conclusion lacked punch, too. all the best. –– OM

Every time you’d read the words scrawled in blue ink, you’d felt a pair of eyes on you. But you chalk it up to Osamu being a careful grader. A good TA. Someone who cares about his students.

Isla calls bullshit on that. You’re not really sure how to feel about her stance.

The classroom door opens and shuts again. You don’t have to look at your phone to know that it’s nine on the dot. Instead, you and Isla straighten your backs, pull out your notebooks, and focus. Your no-nonsense professor says “good morning” in her usual perky manner before jumping right into her keynote presentation.

“Did you all find the reading okay?” Professor Lee asks an hour into the lecture.

A chorus of “yes”s fill the air. You bite your lip, wondering if revealing that you didn’t understand shit will out you as the class idiot. Or maybe your silence is telling enough–– maybe the people in the seats beside you have noticed the grimace on your face and are having thoughts like ‘gee whiz, am I glad I’m not dumb like her’. Heat rushes to your cheeks. Sometimes you really wonder if you’re smart enough to be here. Occurrences like these do nothing to dispel your insecurities.

You vaguely hear her ask something like, “Any thoughts about the reading?” It’s not that you’re actually dumb. It’s just that this class is ridiculously hard for an introductory course, even for a graduate programme. From the start of the semester til now, fifteen people have dropped the class. There’s just twenty of you left. Guess a ridiculously hot TA can’t save a course’s drop-rate.

Before you can make your mind up on what to say, your professor moves on from her question.

As you look off to the side of the room for a break from your thoughts, you find a pair of blue-grey eyes pointed in your direction.

Everything about you, from the expression on your face to the way your muscles tense, makes you look like a deer caught in headlights–– even though he was the one caught staring in the first place. So maybe your shamelessness works on a scale.

Miya Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth.

And as if the exchange hadn’t happened at all, he looks back down at his laptop and continues typing.

The rest of the lecture goes through one ear and out the other.

“Everyone, I believe Osamu has something he wants to say,” Professor Lee says as everyone begins packing their bags.

The raven-haired TA slides out of his seat and sits on top of his desk. “Yeah.” Osamu clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. You notice how the muscles in his arms bulge from the movement.

“Whipped,” Isla mutters, grinning mischievously.

“Him for me,” you whisper back, though your eyes do travel back to his face where they should’ve been all along. Osamu catches your gaze and holds it. And then he looks away again.

“Now, I know you’re all Nobel prizewinners in the making,” he begins, garnering a round of snickers and giggles from your classmates. Most people say that cliques dissolve in college. That there’s no such thing as popularity amongst graduate students. That much, you agree with. But no one ever said anything about popular teacher’s assistants. Especially smart, attractive, witty teacher’s assistants like Miya Osamu. “But in case you didn’t understand the reading or would like to develop a deeper understanding of it, don’t hesitate to email me. I’ll try to host a review session all of us can attend.”

Professor Lee smiles appreciatively at Osamu, adding, “That’s a wonderful idea, Osamu. Guys, please take this opportunity if you struggled with the reading. I know eighty pages is a lot, but our next three classes are structured around the concepts in the reading and the mid-term next week will almost exclusively be about it, too.”

Well, shit.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

Hi Osamu,

I was wondering if I could get some help with the reading from last class. To be frank, I couldn’t make it past page 15 and I’m lost like a snot-faced five-year-old in a shopping mall on Black Friday. Sorry. Thanks in advance!

Regretfully,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

no problem. is 5 pm tomorrow at jack’s okay? we start on the concepts from the reading next class so i want to get you up to speed asap. let me know. thanks.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

It’s five minutes to five when you pull into the parking lot of Jack’s Diner. The shiny, retrofuturistic eatery is a university favourite but the empty parking lot tells you it’s completely deserted right now (and rightfully so–– who eats dinner before six?). The black BMW parked a few spots from your car, however, says that you’re not alone.

Osamu’s figure comes into view as you reach for the handle to the front door of Jack’s. The twenty-six-year-old sits by himself at one of the bright red tables in the back, typing away on his dark grey laptop.

His head lifts up at the sound of the opening door. Osamu calls out your name and waves you over.

“Hi,” you greet with a smile, sitting down across from him.

“Hey.”

You look around before leaning forward on the table. “Is anyone else coming?”

“No.” Osamu sits back in his seat. “I thought about hosting one big group, but then I realised that it’d probably be stressful for the staff here.” He nods his head in the direction of the kitchen. “And I had a hunch that everyone would have different questions. Forcing everyone to review concepts they already know is a waste of time.”

At first, you nod. That makes sense. But then you furrow your brows. “So how long have you been here?”

Osamu blinks. He hadn’t expected you to ask about him. “Hmm? Oh.” He taps his phone to check the time. “Just a while.”

Quirking a brow, you ask, “And how long is ‘a while’ to you?”

“Seven hours,” he admits, chuckling lightly when he sees your jaw drop. “A lot of people had questions. They just don’t act like they do. Anyway, time flies. Really, it does.” Quickly, he clears his throat and sits forward. “So, about your email.” He grins. “Not sure if you meant it to be funny, but it was.”

“I’m glad my distress was entertaining for you. Do you TA just to watch grad students suffer?”

“Perks of the job,” Osamu says. His grin widens when you giggle. He’s never heard you laugh before and he realises at that moment that it’s really nice. And then that same grin falters. Gracefully, of course, and imperceptibly to you. But not to him. Is it okay for him to be… thinking things like that? About a student? But you’re not really his student since he’s just the TA. Right? Osamu ignores the weird feeling that comes over him and clasps his hands together at the edge of his laptop. “Back to your email. Can ya tell me what you’re confused about?”

Three hours and two Impossible Burgers later, you suddenly understand everything about food molecules so well that you wonder why you’d even been confused in the first place. But besides that, you’ve also picked up things about Osamu. As a person and not an idea. Not that you’d been actively searching for fun facts about your TA. But they’d stuck to your brain like gum at the bottom of a desk. He likes to slip sarcastic quips into a conversation every now and then. Eats burgers upside down (“The right way,” as he’d said, smirking). Is friendlier than he looks.

“You’re really good at explaining things,” you comment as Osamu shuts his laptop closed.

“Well, I kinda have to be,” he says. And maybe it’s the mental fatigue catching up on him or the fact that he’s real fond of the reason why he can break big concepts down into morsels but suddenly, the rest of his thoughts spill out his mouth like wine. “I have a twin brother with potato salad for brains.”

“Oh?”

And before he can stop himself, he tells you about Miya Atsumu, the pro-athlete you’ve definitely heard of but never gave too much thought. And then you hold onto the fact that they were both on the volleyball team and you ask of which school, so then he tells you about Inarizaki, the high school he attended, and then his decision not to go pro to go to college, and then––

“Sorry,” he laughs, cheeks turning pink. “You probably didn’t need to hear all that.”

“No, it’s fine,” you say–– and you mean it. “Your life is interesting.”

Osamu leans back in his chair. “Well, I’m sure yours is, too.” He holds your gaze like it’s the key to your presence. It’s an invitation. The kind that comes from people who don’t really know if they want you around but also don’t want you gone.

You take it.

Osamu shouldn’t–– he really shouldn’t–– but he wonders about the things you didn’t tell him the entire drive home.

Isla laughs when you tell her about what happened at Jack’s. You lay in bed with your phone next to you on speaker, your face turned on your pillow so that you’re staring out the window at the city below.

“He wants you,” she sings.

“Or he was just being nice.”

“Methinks not!” Isla giggles. “He’s intrigued, girl! You’re like that cute little new mystery in his life and he just wants to get to know you.”

“I think he was just being polite.”

“Or he’s crushing on you!”

“In your dreams.”

“You mean yours? Boo, you’re no fun today. Usually, you go along with the jokes.” Isla’s tone is playful on the surface but full of implications.

A few silent seconds pass. Yeah, you think, agreeing. I do.

“Girl,” Isla drags out the word in a high pitch, saying it like a scientist says ‘eureka’. “You’re not playing along anymore because it’s real now. You're actually catching feelings!”

“Am not!” you laugh.

“The Y/N I knew would’ve said ‘nah, bitch, he’s catching feelings’ and I think that says all there is to say.”

“Okay, I think he’s cute but it’s not a crush,” you concede, grinning. “And he’s the TA, Isles. It’d never happen.”

“Not while he’s still a TA in a class you take.”

“Isla.”

“Ask him out once this semester ends! Unless you’re chicken.”

“I’m not asking him out.”

“Knew you were––”

“Have you seen me? He’s asking me out.”

Miya Osamu walks through the door at eight-fifty as usual that next morning, dressed in his usual button-up, holding his usual cup of coffee. But this time, as the rest of his tall frame passes through the doorway, Osamu’s eyes subtly scan the faces in the lecture hall, lingering for just a while over yours. The corners of your lips turn up. You hope he saw that.

“Bitch!” Isla whisper-screams. The students sitting around you turn around at the noise and grin at each other when they realise it’s just Isla being… well, Isla. She shoos them away jokingly.

“What?” you whisper back.

“Care to explain why our TA was literally eye-fucking you?”

“That was hardly eye-fucking,” you retort. “Maybe like an eye-handshake.”

“Yeah, a naked eye-handshake where his thang is handshaking your––”

He does it again the next class.

And the next.

And then he doesn’t. Miya Osamu walks through the door to Food Chemistry I at eight-fifty in the morning in a navy blue button-up with a cup of coffee in his hand and looks through the rows of seats in the lecture hall for your face, only to find it missing.

He debates pressing the matter.

To: m.osamu@hqu.edu

hey osamu,

i wasn’t in class today because i’ve been sick with the flu (no big deal, just feel like i’m dying). a classmate sent me pictures of the slides from today so i think i should be fine, but is it okay if i email you with any questions? thank you very much!

miserably,

Y/N

MS Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

From: m.osamu@hqu.edu

y/n,

of course. sorry to hear that you’re sick. let me know if i can do anything to help you. the midterm is next week. get well soon.

OM

PhD Candidate

College of Agriculture and Life Sciences

Haikyuu University

“You writing that the midterm is next week did not offer me any peace of mind, by the way,” you say, spinning around in your chair as Miya Osamu enters your pod in the library.

He offers you a wry grin. “Hello to ya, too.”

“Was that an accent?” You thought you’d heard one at Jack’s, but you couldn’t be sure because it’d been so spotty.

Osamu slips into the seat beside yours and pulls out the laptop in his messenger bag. You catch a whiff of his cologne–– something spicy and woody, but clean. It suits him. “Nice catch. Yeah, I speak a regional dialect. Took me a while to smooth it over but it still resurfaces every now and then.”

“Why?”

“It just didn’t seem fitting for a PhD candidate, I guess,” Osamu explains, opening the slides from the class you missed. A day after your initial exchange, you’d emailed him again (with a much clearer mind) and asked if he could go over the slides with you in person.

i literally feel like i’ve been given the homework from russian lit, you’d written. except the russian has been translated to hieroglyphs and my task is to choreograph an interpretive dance based on the hieroglyphs.

Osamu had snickered when he saw your email. that doesn’t even make sense. must be the fever talking, he’d been tempted to write. But that strange feeling had come over him again, the one that’d screamed at him to keep it professional, goddamnit, so he’d played it safe instead and sent is eight pm at the main library okay? He hates that you’re getting a watered-down version of his personality. Osamu swears he’s a lot more interesting when he’s not, well, a TA.

“I think it’s fine,” you say, smiling. “I like it. It’s you.” And suddenly, you’re wondering if it’s okay to be complimenting your TA. If it’s okay to say that you like things about him, or if that crosses some grey, unclear line. Is it weird to treat your TAs like they’re your friends? It’s not like TAs are real teachers. Right?

A grin–– wide and genuine and almost excited–– grows on Osamu’s face. He rubs the back of his neck as his eyes flit over to the laptop screen. “Thanks. Really.”

You nod. But you feel like there’s more that he might want to say, so you wait.

“I got a lot of shit for it when I came here for my master’s, y’know. Not to my face, of course, but people would refer to me as ‘the guy with the accent’. A professor once said it made me seem crass. Said it’d hold me back in my career.”

“So you changed.”

“Adapted,” Osamu corrects. “It’s hard to admit but conforming is sometimes all you can do when you don’t have the power to change the system. Can’t really make everyone suddenly respect a dialect.”

“And after you’re finished with your PhD, you’ll go back to speaking in that dialect?”

Osamu looks out the window and smiles, probably imagining the plans he’s already made about the future. “Yeah.”

“What if you have to speak the standard language at your job? Like, your boss is all, ‘hey man, if you don’t speak––”’

“I’ll be the boss.”

“Oh?”

And with a little more prodding, Miya Osamu tells you about the restaurant chain he plans on opening after graduation, the slides about food additives left completely untouched.

The librarian knocks on your pod a few minutes before eleven to tell you they’re closing.

“Shit,” Osamu murmurs, running his hands through his hair. You’re still laughing about something he’d said before the librarian interrupted him–– one of his stories from high school–– and he thinks that you’ve completely forgotten that the reason you came to the library was to catch up on the material you were already behind on. And now you’re behind on that. But you look so carefree right now and, actually, you’re very pretty and you’ve got such a good heart and it’s a lot for him to process but he knows he just wants to see you happy a while longer. So Osamu just slumps back in his chair and laughs along with you.

He says your name as his chuckles grow softer. “It’s pretty late. How’re you getting home?”

“I’ve a bike,” you reply. It’s good for the environment and is a pretty solid form of exercise if you do say so yourself. Sometimes you just don’t feel like driving. 

Osamu presses his lips in a thin line. Would it be too much to offer you a ride? “I can drive you home. It’s really not safe for you to be alone outside, especially near midnight. You can get your bike tomorrow. Or I’ll get it for you.”

He drives fast. Not the unsafe fast that speed demons drive at, but the kind of fast where you know he’s got some edge to his character. You bring it up to him–– especially since it’s nighttime, for god’s sake, he could hit something–– and all he does is remind you how there are lamps as bright as the sun lining the entire road to your dorm. And the fact that you live in the least accessible dorm on campus.

“A twenty-minute drive?” he’d exclaimed when he saw the GPS monitor.

“A bunch of roads are closed for construction. It’s a ten-minute bike-ride because I can cut through campus.” And suddenly feeling a little burdensome, you’d added, “Sorry. I can still bike––”

“No.” He’d held his hand out in front of you, gesturing for you to stay in the passenger’s seat. “It’s not a bother at all.” Because it wasn’t. Osamu was… happy. Not that he’d admit that.

“So this BMW,” you start in a teasing tone.

Osamu smirks. “A gift.”

“Can I guess from who?”

“Sure.”

“Atsumu.”

His brows rise. “Colour me impressed.” He hadn’t expected you to remember anything he’d said about Atsumu. Or maybe he had but told himself otherwise to lower his hopes.

“I’m smart like that.”

He snorts. “Not if you keep distracting me and using your review time to…” hang out with me, get to know me, tell me things about you… “…goof off.”

You grimace. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Osamu makes a turn down a familiar street. It dawns upon you that you're ten minutes away from your dorm and suddenly you wish he’d just make the wrong turn at the next intersection so that you could talk to him some more. It can even be about the health benefits of fish or the molecular makeup of kale–– you don’t mind. You just want to be around him longer.

“I think you’re really smart,” Osamu says quietly. “I think you’re not processing the readings because you’re distracted, or just not fully applying yourself. Obviously, last class’s slides are a different thing, since you were absent. But you really are smart. I’ve seen your papers.”

You bite your lip to hide your grin, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. “Thank you.” You look out the window, too jacked on dopamine to think straight. “I think I still need you, though.”

And that innocuous little sentence floats right out your mouth into the air, settling between you like a little wedge before either of you even realise it. Neither of you says anything. You marinate in the awkwardness before stuttering out a clarification. “To, um, to explain things. Y’know, since you’re, uh, so good at… explaining things.”

Osamu clears his throat and chuckles stiffly. There’s a slightly pink tinge to his cheeks. “Thanks,” he says, looking straight ahead. He can’t even look at you. Fuck. It’s so awkward. “I’ll try to keep… explaining things.” Fuck. What does that even mean?

A few uncomfortable minutes pass in silence. The night can’t end like this, you think. It can’t when everything else had gone so well. You still have to see him for a few more months. “Did you know,” you start, catching Osamu’s attention, “that Jack’s Diner has a location in Italy?”

“Oh?” he asks, making the final turn to the street where your dorm is. He actually hadn’t.

“Yeah. I asked the owner about the chain a while back. Have you ever been to Italy?”

Osamu shakes his head. “I’ve been to Paris, though. To see a friend. He’s a chocolatier.”

Now, if Osamu had been your friend, you would’ve said something like well, let’s go to Italy together, except he’s not. He’s your TA and you’ve been reminded that enough tonight. So instead, you say, “When you open that restaurant of yours in Italy, let me know.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” he laughs. He appreciates how you said ‘when’, though. And he tucks that little bit of confidence you have in him somewhere deep in his mind so that it doesn’t get lost.

“Isn’t that just seven hours?” you shrug, grinning. Osamu’s BMW pulls up outside your dorm and parks as he marvels at what you just said. You’re amazing. You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to face your driver.

“Thank you for driving me,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Yeah,” he replies.

You stretch out your hand. With a puzzled look on his face, Osamu grabs it and shakes it. Firmly. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands are. Calloused for sure, but they feel nice.

“Goodnight, Osamu.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches you jog into the building before driving away. And it’s like you’ve possessed his car or something because the smell of your shampoo and perfume is everywhere and it’s too much but it’s also not enough at the same time and he can feel your palm against his as he spins the steering wheel to make a turn and for the first time in his life he doesn’t turn on the radio to fill the silence in his car. Osamu replays everything you said in his head.

But he especially thinks about that part where you said you need him.

Weeks melt into months. You turn in essays after essays for Food Chemistry I, each coming back with detailed commentary in an all-too-familiar blue scrawl. All your other classes go well–– extremely well, actually. You might just end the semester with a 4.0 if Food Chem doesn’t fuck you over. Isla still tags you in memes on Instagram. You still tell her about everything that happens with Osamu.

Speaking of.

“That’s the wrong equation,” he says behind your ear as he settles in the seat beside you. The sound of his low voice so close to your ear sends a small shiver down your spine. “You gotta switch the hydrogens.” Osamu knocks on your skull lightly. “What’s goin’ on up in there? Ya got somethin’ on your mind?”

You laugh and elbow him in the side. “Shut up, ‘Samu.” He’d told you during one of his office hours that he’d gone by that nickname because he had a teammate with a foreign name in high school. It sounded so cool, he’d said, grinning.

I think Osamu sounds pretty cool already, you’d teased.

And he’d replied, Let’s trade. I like yours, you like mine, why not share?

You teeter on the line between friends and less-than-friends and, oddly enough, more-than-friends. Sometimes you still play it safe. Sometimes he pauses between texts and real-time conversations, no doubt to scrap an instinctive reply for something more “professional”. Sometimes you say things that make him look at you with the ghost of a smile at the corners of his lips. Sometimes he calls Atsumu to scream about you.

“S’not a no,” Osamu points out. He’s dressed in a black sweater and grey trousers today. You’re suddenly reminded of how the weather’s been getting colder when someone opens the door to the university café and lets in a gust of chilly autumn air.

“Okay,” you admit, setting down the pencil. “I just… don’t really feel prepared for this next test.”

Osamu frowns and looks down at your worksheet. “Your process is correct, though.”

“Right, but… I don’t know. I’ve just not been feeling great about myself lately,” you laugh, looking down at your feet. “Food Chem’s the toughest class I’ve ever taken. And remember how I completely embarrassed myself in that class discussion last week? It’s not really making me feel like I belong here.”

“Imposter syndrome,” Osamu remarks.

“Correct-o.”

He says your name softly and puts a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Maybe you’re not the smartest, but you’re definitely smart. And you belong here. I’ve seen your papers. They’re just as great as anyone else’s and I don’t hand out compliments for nothin’. You’re gonna do some great things but ya can’t improve if you ever give up.” Osamu searches your eyes for a sign of your understanding.

There’re a lot of things you want to say but you don’t know how to put them into words. “Can I hug you?” you finally ask.

Osamu doesn’t even think about it. “Of course.”

He feels you smile against his chest and wonders if you can feel his heart beat faster.

Isla camps out in your dorm as finals come around the corner.

“I don’t understand shit!” she wails, throwing her notebook into the air.

“Isles, it’s okay,” you laugh, slipping out of your chair and walking over to her nest in the corner. “You gotta chill, dude.”

“Not fair! I didn’t have a hunk holding my hand through this course all semester,” she retorts, humour glittering in her dark eyes. “I had the Organic Chemistry Tutor and his accent’s cute enough but, girl, you had Miya Fucking Osamu!”

“You’re literally the worst.” You giggle and sit down beside her. “Tell me what you’re confused about. I’ll try to explain it to you.” The way Osamu does.

You text him that you’d channelled his brains later that night.

His reply comes seconds later. all you, einstein.

From: osamu

good luck on the exam

you’re going to kill it

To: osamu

would u like to divulge any… information about it? 😏 😏 😏

From: osamu

bye

To: osamu

i was kidding :(

From: osamu

fine. tip #1: write your name

To: osamu

not very helpful. 0/10

From: osamu

keep running your mouth and 0/10 is what your score’s going to be

i’m kidding

you got this, y/n

“Holy fuck,” Isla groans as you cross the street to head to lunch at Jack’s. “If you don’t see me next semester it’s because I’ve gotten my grade back and decided to drop out.”

“What would you do?” you ask, amused.

“Maybe move to New Zealand. Raise some sheep. Marry a hot, blond shepherd and fuck off to a cliffside cottage.”

“Solid plan.”

“What about you?” she asks.

“What about me?”

“Remember that conversation we had at the start of the year? About your man?” The two of you reach another red light for pedestrians.

“We’re friends. He’s not my man,” you laugh. Though it pains you to. Something about being Miya Osamu’s friend doesn’t really sit right with you, but you don’t know how to not be his friend. You don’t know how to move out of the corner you’ve backed yourself into.

“But you wish he were! And now you can finally hit him with that ‘Hey, Osamu, I’ve been madly in love with you since the start of the semester, wanna fuck like rabbits and then open that store in Italy?’ and he’ll be all––”

A throat clears behind you. With wide eyes, the two of you turn around.

Holy fuck.

Miya Osamu stands behind you with his hands in his pockets and an enormous smirk on his face.

“He’ll be all what?” he asks, eyes fixed on you.

Isla murmurs an excuse and starts walking on her own to Jack’s.

“Um.” You swallow nervously and shrink in your coat. “You heard all of that, right?”

“Yep.” Osamu grins. He grins. He’s grinning. He’s smiling like he’s won the fucking lottery and you honestly don’t know what to do with that information.

“So, like,” you look down at the sidewalk and kick at a pebble, “what are your thoughts about that?” God, you could die. “‘Cause I know you’re a TA and it’d probably look pretty bad and I don’t want anything bad to happen to you because I like you and it’s cool if we just…”

Osamu interrupts you with a laugh. “My thoughts,” he says, “are that I want to kiss you.” His fingers lift your chin up. “What are your thoughts about that?”

Well, shit. “I think that’s pretty cool, yeah,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering shut as his face comes closer to yours.

He tastes like mint. And his lips move softly, slowly against yours like he’s savouring the moment. And then you feel his hands snake around your waist to pull you closer–– closer because you both are tired of forcing the distance between bodies that want to be near each other, closer because he’s thought about kissing you just like this for so long, closer because you remember the last time he’d touched you was three days ago and it was just a brush of his fingers against your arm and that feeling of wanting more haunted you for the entire night. But holy shit, Miya Osamu is kissing you. He’s kissing you.

And then he pulls away. His dark eyes flit over yours. “I,” he breathes, “I need your course load next semester.”

“What?” you ask, disbelief written all over your features, chest rising and falling as you try to steady your breathing. You just kissed, for God's sake, and he's––

“I need to know which courses not to apply to TA for,” he grins, cupping your face in his hands. “Can’t be teachin’ in a class with my girlfriend as a student.”

“So we’re official?” you ask, beaming.

“If you want,” Osamu replies with a smirk.

You grab the front of his coat and tug him down for another kiss. “Hell yeah, I want to be official.”