#writing dissertation chapters

[tutorsindia152]

Masters Part Dissertation Writing Services | MBA Part Thesis Writing Help UK

Masters Part Dissertation Writing Services | MBA Part Thesis Writing Help UK

Description - Masters Dissertation Part or chapter-wise writing help. Looking to avail only to write part dissertation such as introduction literature review methodology etc.

Writing a dissertation is a daunting task as student need to produce an original piece of research work on a topic of special interest.

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[endless--rain]

Oh I'm absolutely about to write a fic about macdennis violently blackout drunk fucking over this superbowl game

[back-in-2037]

[ledetlore]

Planning outfits for the hoedown chapter atm (I will update when I get my festering corpse out of bed) and like. If y'all have any ideas. Send me some asks/dms.

I already have half a clue for some of them, but like. I am so open to suggestions. If you have a favourite Cowle, send me something. If you want to play dress up with Artie, go ahead (Come on Artie, let's go party).

I will take any and all suggestions for Gideon/Kremy.

Also!! Doesn't have to be Old West specifically!! Just. You know. Cowboy-esque. Western-ish. I've given up on the realism in certain aspects to allow for some fun.

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

oh my hubris

[wizisbored]

uh oh lads we are entering impending deadline procrastination fic productivity

[scaratrina]

no one you know is a good person - chapter 7

Niragi’s hands are tension, fingers bent the wrong way too many times. Dry skin stretched over bones that seem too close to the surface. Long fingers, too long, maybe, they grew to reach before they were taught how to hold. Five rings, black, two on the left, three on the right. Moles scattered in the negative space between veins. Wrinkles crumpled around each joint and flaring around his wrists like paper that’s been folded too many times. No real nails. What was there has been chewed away, gnawed to raw ends. No polish. Just the ghost of dried blood on his thumbs, rust-red and cracking, cuticles damned to exist in a state of a wound forever.

She puts her hand over his. She doesn’t remember the decision. She just sees his hand resting there, ugly and bony and cold, and her own moves on reflex, or maybe not reflex, maybe something stupider. Her hand is so warm it startles her. His, by contrast, is corpse-cold. She waits for it, for him to jerk back, to snap, to say what the fuck are you doing, to spit at her the way he always does, dumb whore, dumb bitch, dumb slut. Waits to be told to fuck off with this trembling-lamb bullshit gesture. This pretense of empathy she barely understands. Is this how people do it? Is this the safe way to hold grief in your hand? Is this how you tell someone you feel, what? Not sorry. She doesn’t. It feels like trying to pet a cat that’s been locked in a cage its whole life, one that’s grown lean and mean and suspicious, a cat with yellowed teeth and slit eyes that tracks every movement. It might pounce or scratch or roll over death at any moment. You reach in and hope you’re not made of paper. She’s the raven in this metaphor, a blackbird on a perch that isn’t hers. A creature that should be flying, should be free, but stuck here, caged, clipped, too hungry to go. You can’t fly in a cage. Doesn’t matter how many wings you’ve got. And what the fuck’s the point of feathers if all you do is rot inside a room with no sky?

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[non-un-topo]

The trick to writing about stuff you don't 100% know (which is everything) is to do it anyway, and leave plenty of things to the reader's imagination

[metastablephysicist]

night shift at the accelerator agaaaain

[dionysus-complex]

help! my dissertation is being haunted by Lucan

[cramberry24]

Me looking at Stairway to Heaven and trying to find the best lyric for this week’s chapter title

“And a new day will dawn for those who stand long, and the forests will echo with laughter”

“In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees, and the voices of those who stand looking”

“And as we wind on down the road, our shadows taller than our souls”

“My spirit is crying for leaving”

“Your head is humming, and it won’t go, in case you don’t know”

[poetryqueer]

planning document must be going well I just said the words “explaining the endurance of Platonism could be the life I’m living” to myself. Alone. At 2:30am. Because yeah. Could be.

[foundress0fnothing]

where do I sign up for a writing process that isn’t. inexplicably broken

[ledetlore]

My brain: just UPLOAD the chapter, you've WRITTEN IT, just UPLOAD IT, all you have to DO is put it on Ao3, JUST DO THE TASK PLEASE!

My body: And if you said this life ain't good enough, I would give my world to lift you up, I could change my life to better suit your mood because you're so smooth, and it's JUST LIKE THE OCEAN, UNDER THE MOON-!

[lovesodeepandwideandwell]

Two hundred thirty-two

[hirazuki]

📓give me yer plots

Plots? Plural?? Okay, you get three ♡

I only included ideas that I am not currently/actively working on.

Maedhros + Mairon team up AU: After Luthien and Beren nab the silmaril and scram, Melkor actually does give chase and follows them south towards Doriath, and he cuts through Nan Dungortheb where he is ambushed by Ungoliant's spawn (I think if he was alone, given how physically weak he is at this point in time + just having woken up from Luthien's spell, he'd be easy prey) who take him and his crown with the remaining two silmarils and bear him to the south of the continent where Ungoliant has been waiting to exact revenge and claim/consume the jewels. Mairon comes home after having lost Tol-in-Gaurhoth to find Angband in panic, not being able to find Melkor anywhere. He decides to infiltrate Himring, it being the closest center of elven activity and information that is also open enough to travelers, etc. for a new face to pass unnoticed, to see if he can find out if the enemy has Melkor. Maedhros, having had him as a visitor for 30+ years while hanging off a cliff, recognizes him pretty quickly despite the disguise. They team up and go on a life-changing fieldtrip to the south of Beleriand to retrieve one dark lord (for Mairon) and two silmarils (for Maedhros).

Maeglin in Rivendell AU: Maeglin either is brought back by the Powers to help in the War of the Ring (yes, it's inspired by that one poll a while back XD) or actually somehow survived (I haven't decided which I prefer) and ends up in Rivendell. Not really a cohesive linear plot kind of fic, as much as a series of character interactions/exploration of themes: Maeglin and Elrond, Maeglin and Glorfindel, Maeglin and Eowyn, Maeglin and Frodo, to list a few of my top ones.

Eol makes a stone that outshines the silmarils AU: @melkors-defense-attorney and @mirkwood-hr-department take equal share of the blame credit for this completely wild idea yes it still lives rent free in my head, I have not forgotten about it XD. Basically, Eol is much closer to the dwarves than he is to his own kin, and would probably be more comfortable going to them for courtship advice re: Aredhel. Hence, presenting her with the shiniest rock as a gift early on in her stay at Nan Elmoth. Problem is, she has seen the silmarils, so it would have to be an extra shiny rock. He accidentally makes a stone that outdoes the silmarils; cascading world-wide consequences follow XD (These include: angry Feanorians; angry Melkor, at not having the Shiniest Thing™ and seeking Eol out in his forest a la Evil Queen style, to trade his two silmarils for this one; Eol (in this timeline, never having been to Angband) being so isolated he literally doesn't recognize Melkor and slamming the door in Melkor's face ("no solicitors!!"); angrier Melkor (that's two door-slamming elves now); angrier Feanorians (that Melkor would seek to trade the silmarils with Eol of all people); one very swoony Aredhel at the balls of this elf throwing the Dark Lord out on his ass.)