#submission bronk

[worstygocharacter]

Bronk Stone, for the title best friend character he doesn’t really feel like it, even from his introduction he’s shown to be a ass to Yuma even if it is supposed to be playful but it feels like that’s all he is cuz he lacks a REAL personality besides the best friend character even when they did try to give him depth on why he’s that way with Yuma it falls flat

he’s added!

[jeffalessandrelli]

https://www.nytimes.com/1979/08/29/archives/everybody-wants-to-be-a-poet-number-has-doubled.html

1979

According to Poets and Writers, a New York‐based clearinghouse for writers, the number of poets (by its definition, those who have published 10 or more poems in three or more literary magazines) in the United States has doubled from 1,500 in 1975 to some 3,000 today. This increase is partly tied, no doubt, to the equally extraordinary growth in the number of outlets for verse. Last year, the National Endowment for the Arts awarded $835,155 to 177 nonprofit magazines and presses; the New York State Council on the Arts, approximately $123,500. And, thanks largely to such increased Government spending, the number of places publishing poetry has grown to nearly 3,000, with editorial tastes and qualities as varied as their names: Antaeus, TriQuarterly, New American Review, Truck, Caterpillar and Mulch.

Often created by poets unable to publish their work elsewhere, many of these publications began as kitchentable operations. As their editors and contributors developed followings, some grew into establishments in their own right. Cid Cornian created Origin, for instance, in 1951 to provide an “adequate outlet to those new/unknown writers who have shown maturity/insight in their medium”; a list of those new/unknown writers who appeared includes Charles Olson, William Bronk, Robert Creeley and Denise Levertov. Similarly, City Lights Books was founded in San Francisco in 1955 by a then rather unknown bard — Lawrence Ferlinghetti.

For hundreds of young poets, then, publication in such small magazines and presses is something to be solicited, coveted and eventually parlayed into a reputation. Jane Flanders, a Washington housewife who this year won the “Discovery/The Nation” award, started out in 1975 by sending poems to Sibyl‐Child, a local magazine. Which led to appearances in Crazy Horse and Prairie Schooner, which led to publication in The Nation, Poetry Magazine and American Poetry Review. Although Mrs. Flanders has earned about $250 so far this year, she figures she has already spent $75 on mailing and submission costs.

‘Have to Keep Hustling’

“It's very discouraging at first,” concedes Don Faulkner, a young poet who helped found the No Mountains Poetry Project in Chicago and who now teaches at Connecticut College. “But you have to keep hustling.”

Indeed, there is growing opportunity for aspiring poets to practice what Felix Stefanile, editor of the Sparrow Press, has called “poetry gamesmanship.” A kind of cottage industry has sprung up, devoted to the care and feeding of poets.

There are $10,000 fellowships awarded by the National Endowment for the Arts, as well as prizes ranging from the renowned (the $10,000 Copernicus Award for lifetime achievement) to the obscure (the $500 Edwin Markham Prize for “a previously unpublished poem not exceeding 100 lines dealing with the theme of social justice or protest in the tradition of Edwin Markham or Eugene Debs”).

Universities such as Iowa, Johns Hopkins, and Columbia offer Master of Fine Arts degrees in poetry, and such groups like the Jack Kerouac School for Disembodied Poetics hold summer seminars. In addition, the number of local readings continues to grow: in New York alone, there are nearly 100 groups with regular meetings.

That such programs produce verse is obvious; that they actually create poets is more debatable. Detractors disdain these organized rites as “poetry factories,” manufacturing competent, but uninspired, practitioners of verse. Still, they do furnish the young poet with connections and criticism — two assets most valuable in making the jump from the little magazine world to that of the commercial presses.

The odds of selling a poem to one of the “slick” magazines — The New Yorker, The Atlantic, Harpers — are awesome indeed: The New Yorker, which annually prints about 150 poems, receives over 3,000 every week; and the Atlantic, which annually prints about 50, logs in well over 20,000 a year.

[xxmelodycat]

First Sight

Hi, I’m Harry and in exactly five minutes I will be 11 years old. Where am I right now, you ask? I too, asked myself too what I am doing in a damp shack with my wicked uncles on the night of my birthday. The floorboards are creaking, the wind is howling outside and the snoring of my wicked and cruel cousin Dudley are keeping me awake. I miss my wicked uncles’ *house*, in warm, sun bathed Phoenix. Why is it that on my birthday of all days it has to rain so much? i hate the rain. anything cold, and wet really. I cuddle under my thin blaket and watch the arm of my broken hand watch move slowly towards the number 12. 12. That’s one number above 11, the age I’m about to reach in four minutes. Tik tok, tik tok. The dribble of the rain and the clock’s ticking mix together into one gloomy symphony as I wait for my birthday, a date I never celebrated yet still bothered to note every year. There are three minutes left. Other people would have complained. After all, this is no way to celebrate a birthday - freezing in the cold, sleeping on the floor, barely awake. But I was always gentler and softer than others, more submissive. Compared to my wicked Cousin Dudley, who was full and nurtured, I never got any spare attention. My wicked and cruel uncles would forget to feed me too often, and what clothes I had I got from wicked Dudley, a thing that made me look even smaller and thinner. For my birthday I wore my favorite short, a white shirt that wasn’t so loose and at least hid my showing ribcage.

“two minutes,” weakly whisper as the cold sigh escapes from my lips and vapors in the night air. soon i'll turn 11, which means that for 11 cruel long years i have suffered in my cruels uncles house, where i’ve lived since the death of my parents. If I could make a wish, I’d wish to see them. But I don’t believe in wishes - that’s a right saved for happy kids like my wicked cousin Dudley. Good things never happend to me anyway. For example I was born sick. Ever since I can remember myself I;ve had to take speciel pills. Withput them, I’m as good as dead. Yes, they give me headaches and dizzy spells, but at least I’m alive, even if it’s a lame life as a beta. Yeah yeah, I’m not even an alpah. According to our society, there’s nothing speciel abput me - omaybe other than my emerald green eyes, and the lighting shaped scar adorning my forehead. Those were the only things I liked abput my appearance. Even without the speciel test everyone takes in their childhoods to determine their rank, there’s no doubt I’m not an alpha, with my frail and weak body, and as for omega - well, being an omega and a male is such a rare case that I never even considered the option, and there’s nothing speciel like that about me. No, of course not, Like the majority of society I’m a completely avarage beta male. With good grades I can find a job in a quiet place and live my life like any other person. The only problem is that I don’t want to live like anyone else; I’ve always felt like I don’t fit in, that I’m different, like something distant is calling out to me. But there’s mo point in developing hopes… it’s not like I deserve anything speciel, or like a life that’s more than cpmpletly avarage is spmething I can get. There’s one minute left, and I’m counting back the seconds. When I’m 18 I’ll get out of the wicked Dursleys’ *house*, and finally I’ll be able to live in peace. 50 seconds. Why do I even bother? No one’s here to celebrate with me. 30 seconds. I just need to survive this for a couple more years. 20 seconds. I wish the rain would stop. Just for me - for my birthday. 10. I wish - I don’t make wishes, that’s true, but I wish… someone would be here with me.

5.

4.

3.

2.

1-

"Happy birthday,” I whisper, and a single tear forms on the bronk of my eyes and blurrs my vision. I close my eyes, ready to finally fall asleep. and exactly in that moment, the door opens.

(*a huge thanks to melody cat for doing gramaticle editing!!! love u bestieee)

(*omg lexy!!!!! <<3 ilyyy)

[elemental-daddy-neos]

*Ahem*

I SAID

MILF. COMPETITION.

Alright you guys! I’ve seen enough tournaments floating around on here for me to want to start my own, and what could be a better subject to hold a competition on than milfs? Nothing.

I’ve taken the liberty of putting together a list of all the moms across the eight Yugioh series we have, and I’m going to be making them compete for the milf championship belt. If you feel like there’s anyone I’ve skipped over in this, feel free to submit an ask and let me know! This goes especially for fans who’ve watched Sevens and Go Rush, as there don’t appear to be any milfs there, at least as far as I can tell from the wiki searching I did (Well, there is one mom in Sevens, but...)

Anyway! List of competing moms below the cut

Duel Monsters

Mrs. Muto (Yugi’s mom)

Mrs. Wheeler/Ms. Kawai (Joey’s mom)

Mrs. Ishtar (Marik, Ishizu, and Odion’s mom)

Rafael’s mom (Unnamed)/Guardian Eatos

Iona (Dartz’s wife, Chris’ mom)

Priest Seto’s mom (Unnamed)

GX

Mrs. O’Brien (Axel’s mom)

Mrs. Garam (Adrian’s mom)

5Ds

Aporia’s mother (Unnamed)

Atsuko (Lazar’s wife)

Lazar’s mother (Unnamed)

Mrs. Leblanc (Sherry’s mom)

Martha (Yusei, Jack, and Crow’s adoptive mom)

Mrs. Fudo (Yusei’s birth mom)

Setsuko Izayoi (Akiza’s mom)

Zexal

Mrs. Meadows/Mrs. Mizuki (Tori’s mom)

Mrs. Francis/Mrs. Todoroki (Caswell’s mom)

Tetsumi Stone/Tetsumi Takeda (Bronk’s mom)

Mirai Tsukumo (Yuma’s mom)

Mrs. Kastle/Mrs. Kamishiro (Shark and Rio’s mom)

Vector’s mom (Unnamed)

Mrs. Andrews/Mrs. Okudaira (Fuya’s mom)

Arc-V

Henrietta Akaba/Himika Akaba (Reiji’s mom)

Mrs. Pepper/Maiko Mokota (Michio’s mom)

Yoko Sakaki (Yuya’s mom)

Mrs. Ayukawa (Ayu’s mom)

And that wraps up all the milfs! Like I said, if there’s someone I missed (or an honorary milf you’d like to nominate for the competition), feel free to send them in! I’ll be turning on submissions just for this after I make this post. Be sure to reblog this if you plan on voting so we can get a good number of participants in to make the competition more fierce!

Mm

Mmmmm

Milf competition

[paperswanted]

Book proposal and call for abstracts/chapters on literary/dramatic widowhood

updated:  Thursday, March 16, 2017 – 7:01pm Katarzyna Bronk, PhD, Faculty of English, Adam Mickiewicz University, Poznan, Poland deadline for submissions:  Friday, May 5, 2017

Call for abstracts on literary/dramatic widowhood

“[O]ld Maid and musty Widows are like the plague shun’d of by all men…” So says Doll Pacify from Margaret Cavendish’s Bell in campo (1660). Her fellow…

[worstygocharacter]

So I have a bunch of submissions here, and some are doubles or triples, and I will not apologize for that because I am a salty bitch.

Leo Akaba and Declan/Reiji Akaba from Arc-V. Just... both of them. Like father, like son. Leo is a miserable failure at everything, including being a compelling villain. His son somehow manages to be even less compelling, on top of committing war crimes that he gets no comeuppance whatsoever for. (Seriously... mind-wiping children and replacing their memories?)

Bronk Stone (not going to look up his sub name rn) and Mizar/Mizael from Zexal. The former is the WORST "best friend" character, bar none, and the fact that he's even in the same category as people like Joey sickens me. He's a bad friend, a bad character, and his crush on Rio is SO annoying. As for the latter... I fully blame him for the destruction of Kite's character arc. Plus he's a royal asshole in the dub (thankfully this was just an adaptation mistake). Hate the guy, f him, so on and so forth.

Seconds (or thirds) for all!,