#Elementary 114

[hellenlens]

Elementary 114 The Deductionist

She just accepted his choice of clothes for her.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Okay I got a little more confident. Here's the first chapter.

This is a while after Jack had first been kidnapped and sold. This is the first chapter of the book, the other one was a flashback. (Sorry that's confusing. It'll make more sense with the whole thing)

--

Jack bangs his head against the wall. 106. He lazily lifts his neck and drops it again. 107. He decided he was on his way to beat his all time high of 318 a while ago. He only stopped then because he blacked out for a second, and he figured that repeatedly smashing his head into the wall wasn’t the smartest.

Except who the hell cares what the smartest thing to do is when you’re bored out of your mind.

108.

Not ‘oh there’s nothing on TV’ bored. Bored like Jack only has eight books in his cell anyway, and never mind the fact that he’s already read them all so much he’s got them memorized, but also the light has been flickering and if it goes out then he’ll be in darkness for months on end so he might as well just sit in darkness now by choice. So that’s what Jack did. He took a nap. Again. And then sat in darkness and banged the back of his head against the wall because that was better than letting his mind wander.

109.

Jack can never let his mind wander. When it does he always ends up sobbing so hard he throws up, or plots how he can potentially end his own life.

110.

If he lets his mind wander he might think of his mom. He might think that she’s forty eight now, and he missed another Christmas with her. He’ll think about how terrified he was when he was grabbed and thrown into a van. How he never even thought about that happening to him and so he had no idea what to do except lash out and kick his attacker.

He’s still got the scar on the side of his head from the man’s rings.

111.

Jack will think about the times he’s tried to keep track of the days on the wall next to his bed, but he just gave up when he stopped being aware of when was day and when was night. He had a little breakdown that day, when he realized that he’d been there so long he didn’t know exactly how long anymore.

112.

He’ll think about the fingers he lost for trying to run. The way he limps every time he walks and keels over every time he breaths. He’ll think about the part of his ear that--

113. 114. 115. 116.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!

Jack had a TV once. One of those big box TVs with the VHS player attached that he hadn’t seen since he was in elementary school. He played the few tapes he had basically 24/7. They weren’t good movies, he saw Joe Dirt so many times he dreamt about him, but it was something. Human voices to occupy his time. Voices besides his painful memories and… Mr. Reeder.

117.

Mr. Reeder isn’t the man who first took Jack. Once, in a bout of quiet contemplation much like this one, Jack let himself realize that he was in fact a victim of human trafficking. In his mind, trafficking was only for sex slavery or organ harvesting. But he was kidnapped, and then sold. For money. It’s not like he’s got Google on hand, but Jack’s pretty sure that’s the definition.

118.

No, Jack’s actually got no idea who first threw him in the car. He was walking home from a friend’s house. Not even a friend, just someone to hang out with so he wouldn’t be bored.

Man, 15 year old Jack had no idea what boredom was.

It was dark. He had headphones in playing music. He was alone. He was an idiot.

He never heard the car pull up beside him. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he turned around to ask them what the hell, but by the time he understood what was going on he was already in the man’s arms, hand over his mouth and phone tossed to the street. Jack had kicked out, managing to kick his attacker in the shin, but it didn’t stop him. He was thrown into the trunk of the car, and before he could even catch his breath to call for help, he was knocked out.

The whole ordeal probably didn’t take more than two minutes, if that. No time for anyone to hear a scuffle and come looking.

Jack woke up later to his arms and legs tied up, duct tape around his head, and the feeling of blood on his face.

119.

He doesn’t like to think about the early days. The constant fear and exhaustion that took hold of him. That still does if he’s being honest. He likes to think he’s more resigned now. Apathetic, if you will.

It makes stomaching his own existence a little easier.

120.

He lifts his head off the wall once again, but pauses before he can get to 121. Jack is a very very good listener, out of necessity. So despite being a floor down and many walls away, he can always hear Mr. Reeder’s car pulling into the driveway. No matter how many times he heard it, Jack can never stop the way his body tenses, the way his heart rate picks up. He swallows and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for more.

It’s been a few days. Mr. Reeder would leave to go to work every day, and sometimes he’d go somewhere for a night or two. But this has been the longest ever. Jack had woken up and went to sleep eight different times (half were naps, he knew, but even still it was at least four days.) He’s running out of food. Even if he didn’t see Mr. Reeder every day, he at least knew he was home.

Sickening that this is his home.

The door upstairs slams and Jack can’t repress a flinch. He stares up into the darkness, eyes following the sound of heavy footsteps across the floor. The footsteps stop. Jack holds his breath to listen, the only unwelcome sound that of his own heavy heart.

A slamming door is not good. Stomping across the living room is not good. What kind of mood is he going to be in?

Jack gasps and flinches at the sound of Mr. Reeder yelling, a wordless, angry shout, and then something crashes to the ground above him. Another shout and crash. Another. And another.

Mr. Reeder’s throwing things. So it’s safe to say he’s in, what Jack would call, a not good mood.

He tries his best to tune out the sounds above and focus on himself. He needs to calm down before Mr. Reeder gets here, or it’s going to be worse. Freaking out beforehand helps no one, and he ends up being in pain anyway so, you know. What’s the point. Jack closes his eyes (he can’t see anyway) and takes long, deep breaths in through his nose, and out through his mouth. His ribs flare painfully with each inhale, but Jack welcomes it. It grounds him. Lets him know he still exists, in this painful body and dark basement. He still exists.

Unfortunately.

Jack makes himself keep breathing as the footsteps get closer and closer, making their way down the stairs and stopping just outside his door.

It never gets easier. The suspense of waiting for his captor, it just never does. Even if his mind knows it’s going to be the same old same old, his body was terrified. It was tired of being hurt, of being hungry, of being tired and bored.

Sometimes he’s so bored he’s actually excited, not nervous, when Mr. Reeder comes. Oddly enough, this was not one of those times.

The keys jingle. A lock clicks. And Mr. Reeder pushes open the door.

Jack squints against the light from the basement filtering in from the cracked door. He lets out his last inhale and stares down at the heavy boots in front of him. They weren’t originally that dark of brown, but … you know. Blood.

Mr. Reeder just stands there for a moment, staring at his captive. He’s silhouetted against the light so Jack can’t see his expression. Jack waits for him to say something, anything. He doesn’t.

Jack clears his throat. “H-hi Mr. Reeder.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Jack nods, looking at the ground, heart pounding in his ears.

Mr. Reeder’s hand shoots out suddenly, gripping Jack by the hair and hauling him up out of his room. Jack hisses in pain, hands clawing at the fist tangled in his hair. If it was up to him, he would’ve shaved his head ages ago. But Mr. Reeder would never give him a razor.

Jack kicks at the ground, trying his best to get his feet under himself enough to relieve the pressure on his head. His bad leg howls in protest at the sudden actions, but he does his best to push through. As he begins to be dragged up the stairs, Jack grits his teeth to stop from crying out, knee painfully banging against each. Individual. Step.

Each step, Jack is able to brace the pain a little more and become more aware of what exactly was happening.

He is going upstairs. He hasn’t been upstairs since he first got here. The current circumstances are much different than those last time, so why the hell is Mr. Reeder bringing him upstairs?

He begins to fight.

Jack has been doing this a long time. Longer than he actually knows, but he’s positive it’s years. He’s an adult probably old enough to drink. That’s a long time to become a professional at getting your butt kicked. And being a professional victim, Jack knows that the less you struggle, the easier it is. Easier to deal with the pain, faster to get it over with, and easier to stomach your own cowardice… Or resourcefulness. He’s a survivor, that much he knows.

So he only fights back when he’s really scared.

And he has reason to be. When Jack was just a brand new greenie kidnappee, demanding to be let back upstairs, Mr. Reeder had leaned down, close to his face, so close that Jack had to lean away from the smell of the peppermint gum he was chewing.

“The only way you are ever going back up those stairs,” he said lowly, coldly, “is if I want to see your brains on the wall in natural lighting.”

It was the first time that Jack had thought I might not make it out of here alive. It took him a much longer time to accept it.

Apparently he hasn’t accepted it at all, Jack thinks as he wrenches his head out of Mr. Reeder’s grasp and dives to crawl away from him. It was never going to work but he needs to try.

Jack Thatcher was NOT taken away from his mother for years just to be shot in the head by some isolated lunatic. At least, he wasn’t going to without a fight.

Mr. Reeder grabs him easily, yanking him back by his bag leg, stretching it out. Jack can feel poorly healed bones in his knee scraping together, pinching the long disused muscles around them. He let out a shout before Mr. Reeder pulls him by his waist instead, hauling him into a room and slamming the door shut and sitting in front of it, trapping Jack inside.

With nowhere else to go, Jack pushes himself into the corner farthest from his captor, arms protectively shielding his right knee. His chest heaves and he can feel the stupid tightness starting in his throat that happens before he cries. He hates crying in front of Mr. Reeder, but it is continuously unavoidable.

Mr. Reeder sits in front of the door, catching his breath as well. He runs a hand through greasy hair, staring at the ceiling. He sighs heavily, like his life is the one here not worth living.

Tragic.

With his captor temporarily distracted, Jack takes stock of his surroundings. A mattress with no sheets is pushed against the corner opposite himself, some dirty clothes thrown at it’s end. A cracked mirror is attached to a dresser, dust slightly distorting the image of the ceiling. Behind Jack is a window half boarded up, letting a sliver of light into the room, washing over his captor. It looks like it’s golden hour outside.

Jack’s struck with the thought that this is the first time he’s seen the sun since he went down those stairs. Really, since he was thrown into that car as a teenager. He always had a blindfold on, or he was transported at night. The most fundamental, most simple and base thing a human has access to, Jack hasn’t for years. Still just out of reach.

His attention is brought back to Mr. Reeder when he sighs again. He warily looks up at Jack. “You’re lucky you know.” Jack doesn’t move. He’s heard the ‘you should be glad I’m not worse’ speech before. “You have no idea what you’ve missed. No idea… what you’ve been spared. What I’ve spared you from.”

Jack only watches apprehensively. His body is tight, poised like he’s ready to try to run again. Where, with Mr. Reeder blocking the door? That’s for future Jack to find out.

“I didn’t mean to spare you from it,” he goes on. “Heaven knows that wasn’t my intention. I think you could have benefited from being in the middle of it all.” He chuckles and Jack shrinks away even more. “Oh the look on your face would’ve been everything… Oh well. It’s just about over anyway.”

It’s nonsense. Utter nonsense. Mr. Reeder is certifiably insane, no doubt about it. He’s gone on long manic monologues before, Jack’s heard about everything.

He’s never seen Mr. Reeder pull a gun from his waistband though.

He can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the sudden urge to run! Run now! Go! He’s got no idea what to do with it so he just stands up, so quickly it doesn’t even hurt, and backs even further into the corner. Mr. Reeder always threatened that he had a gun but Jack had never had proof until right now.

Mr. Reeder looks at him from under his brows. “Sit down Jack.”

All he can do is shake his head, breaths coming out fast and shallow. The floor is liquid beneath his feet, making his body shake where it stands.

The gun clicks and points right at Jack. “Sit. Down.”

He slides down the wall, hands up. His throat bobs with a swallow, just to do something with his mouth other than sob. Tears fall steadily down his cheeks and his lower lip trembles.

Mr. Reeder, satisfied with Jack’s cooperation, relaxes his grip on the gun, hefting it like he’s simply judging the weight.

“There wasn’t much time,” he says. Jack shifts his focus from the gun to his captor, staring with wide eyes and frayed nerves. “I was trying to think about what to do with you but… I mean there just wasn’t much. I’m not sure I would’ve done anything even if there was. You’ve said it yourself Jack, who wants to die alone?”

His eyes meet Jack’s for the first time and Jack can see… tears. Welling in them. It only terrifies him more. “Mr. Reeder…”

“Shh. Shh sh sh.” He shakes his head, working his jaw. “Do you believe in God, Jack?”

Jack swallows. “I don’t know,” he whispers, voice catching on the words. “I used to.”

“What about heaven and hell? Think those exist?”

Jack can feel the panic claw up his throat, making him want to sob and scream. “I hope so.”

“Hmm… I wonder if hell will be any worse than earth.”

This is it then, Jack thinks. He’s going to take us both out, as a sick end to his sick life. He’s bored of me and now it’s over, it’s all over.

“Mr. Reeder please,” Jack begs, tears blurring him, “please don’t. Don’t do it.”

He furrows his brows, and looks down at the gun. He shakes his head. “See you in hell, Jack.”

[ultimatemilvesbracket]

THE MILVENING HAS BEGUN

That's 114 contenders! Amazing job everyone!

we got 323 submissions and labored over every single one until approximately 2am, which is why this bracket looks so fucking incomprehensible. (shoutout to tumblr user asparagoos for creating The Milves Rubric and user pastramis, who plays fantasy football and knows brackets.)

anyway, full match-ups are below the cut. starting tonight (3/30) we'll start with uhh the upper left-hand chunk today, then make our merry way down the list three times a day until the first elimination round ends. the top scoring milves will not appear until the second elimination round, aka when this bracket is legible.

milf lovers grab your therapist's number!

ROUND 2 / BRACKET 1

Regina Mills (Once Upon a Time) vs. Marge Simpson (The Simpsons)

Queen Clarisse Renaldi of Genovia (The Princess Diaries 1 & 2) vs. Olivia Crain (The Haunting of Hill House)

Barbara Howard (Abbott Elementary) vs. Ambessa Medarda (Arcane)

Helena "HG" Wells (Warehouse 13) vs. Taissa Turner (Yellowjackets)

ROUND 2 / BRACKET 2

Catelyn Tully Stark (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones) vs. The Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time)

Penelope (Greek Mythology, The Odyssey) vs. Siobhan Sadler (Orphan Black)

Xenomorph Queen (Alien Cinematic Universe) vs. Goldie O'Gilt)

Bella Goth (The Sims) vs. Jean Milburn (Sex Education)

ROUND 2 / BRACKET 3

Cersei Lannister (A Song of Ice and Fire/Game of Thrones) vs. Valka (How to Train Your Dragon 2)

Queen Calanthe (The Witcher Netflix) vs. Nancy Botwin (Weeds)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 1

Marge Simpson (The Simpsons) vs. Ella Montgomery (Pretty Little Liars) WINNER MARGE

Queen Clarisse Renaldi (The Princess Diaries) vs. Peggy Bundy (Married With Children) WINNER CLARISSE

Sarah Jane Smith (Doctor Who, Sarah Jane Adventures) vs. Olivia Crain (The Haunting of Hill House) WINNER OLIVIA CRAIN

Barbara Howard (Abbott Elementary) vs. Stacy's Mom (Fountains of Wayne) WINNER BARBARA

Ambessa Medarda (Arcane) vs. Jacqueline Carlisle (The Bold Type) WINNER AMBESSA MEDARDA

Helena "HG" Wells (Warehouse 13) vs. Flemeth (Dragon Age) WINNER HG

Taissa Turner (Yellowjackets) vs. Janet Van Dyne (Antman and the Wasp) WINNER TAISSA

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 2

Patty Hewes (Damages) vs. The Black Fairy (Once Upon a Time) WINNER THE BLACK FAIRY

Milah (Once Upon a Time) vs. Penelope (The Odyssey) WINNER PENELOPE

Siobhan Sadler (Orphan Black) vs. Norma Bates (Bates Motel) WINNER SIOBHAN

Gerri Kellman (Succession) vs. Xenomorph Mom (Alien Franchise) WINNER XENOMILF

Alex Blake (Criminal Minds) vs. Goldie O'Gilt (Ducktales 2017) WINNER GOLDIE

Bernie Wolfe (Holby City) vs. Bella Goth (The Sims) WINNER BELLA

Elizabeth Jennings (The Americans) vs. Jean Milburn (Sex Education) WINNER JEAN

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 3

Valka (How to Train Your Dragon 3) vs. Ana Servín (Madre Solo hay Dos) WINNER VALKA

Matriarch Benezia (Mass Effect) vs. Queen Calanthe (The Witcher Netflix) WINNER CALANTHE

Julie Cooper (The OC) vs. Nancy Botwin (Weeds) WINNER NANCY

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 4

Ana Amari (Overwatch) vs. Aunt May (Spider-Man MCU) WINNER AUNT MAY

Joyce Byers (Stranger Things) vs. Queen Ramonda (Black Panther) WINNER JOYCE

Admiral Kathryn Janeway (Star Trek: Voyager) vs. Nalini Vishwakumar (Never Have I Ever) WINNER JANEWAY

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 5

Carol Newman (The Santa Clauses) vs. Bette Porter (The L Word) WINNER BETTE

Addison Montgomery (Grey's Anatomy, Private Practice) vs. Sabine Cheng (Miraculous Ladybug) WINNER ADDISON

Laura Roslin (Battlestar Galactica) vs. Mrs. Brown (Paddington 1 and 2) WINNER LAURA ROSLIN

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 6

Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher 3) vs. Carminha (Avenida Brasil) WINNER YENNEFER

Camila Noceda (The Owl House) vs. Sarah Alder (Motherland: Fort Salem) WINNER CAMILA

Wynne (Dragon Age) vs. Melissa McCall (Teen Wolf) WINNER MELISSA

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 7

Mon Mothma (Star Wars) vs. Carol Peletier (The Walking Dead)

Helen Parr (The Incredibles) vs. Seven of Nine (Star Trek: Picard)

Abigail Pent (The Locked Tomb) vs. Medea (Greek Mythology/Euripedes)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 8

Queen Elinor (Disney's Brave) vs. Caroline McKenzie-Dawson (Last Tango in Halifax)

Evelyn Wang (Everything Everywhere All At Once) vs. Takhisis (Dragonlance)

Annalise Keating (How To Get Away With Murder) vs. Maureen Robinson (Lost in Space)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 9

Gemma Teller (Sons of Anarchy) vs. Celeste Wright (Big Little Lies)

The Fairy Godmother (Shrek 2) vs. The Smart House (Disney's Smart House)

Marcia Roy (Succession) vs. Martha Rodgers (Castle)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 10

Pyrrha Dve (The Locked Tomb) vs. Danielle Rousseau (Lost)

Olivia Benson (Law and Order: SVU) vs. Linda Flynn-Fletcher (Phineas and Ferb)

Morticia Addams (The Addams Family) vs. Maeve Millay (Westworld)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 11

Melanie Cavill (Snowpiercer) vs. DCI Amy Silva (Vigil)

Beverly Crusher (Star Trek: The Next Generation) vs. Lucille Bluth (Arrested Development)

Abby Bartlett (The West Wing) vs. Laura de Mille (Doom Patrol)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 12

Alicia Florrick (The Good Wife) vs. Ellie Torres (Cougartown)

Zelda Spellman (The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina) vs. Lisa Lisa (Jojo's Bizarre Adventures)

Tsunade (Naruto) vs. Jules Cobb (Cougartown)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 13

Katherine Hastings (American Auto) vs. Esme Cullen (Twilight Series)

Abby Griffin (The 100) vs. Letty Ortiz (The Fast and the Furious 9)

Jocasta (Greek Mythology) vs. Joss Carter (Person of Interest)

ROUND 1 / BRACKET 14

Julia Sugarbaker (Designing Women) vs. Eve Fletcher (Mrs. Fletcher)

Chrisjen Avasarala (The Expanse) vs. Marion Lavorre (Critical Role)

Tiffany Valentine (Chucky) vs. Jodie Mills (Supernatural)

[dailyanarchistposts]

Footnotes, 51-100

[50] Martin Crutsinger, “United States Cites China and Other Nations in Report on Unfair Trade Practices,” Associated Press, March 31, 2006.

[51] Dale Maharidge, “Rust and Rage in the Heartland,” Nation, September 20, 2004, www.thenation.com.

[52] Pam Belluck, “To Avoid Divorce, Move to Massachusetts,” New York Times, November 14, 2004, as quoted in Michelle Goldberg, Kingdom Coming, 67.

[53] By 2010, according to the Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, if the proposed federal cuts remain in place, elementary and secondary education funding will be cut by $11.5 billion, or 12 percent; 670,000 fewer women and children will receive assistance through the Women, Infants and Children Supplemental Nutrition Program; 120,000 fewer children will be served through Head Start; and 370,000 fewer low-income families, elderly people and people with disabilities will receive rental assistance with rental vouchers. See Sharon Parrott, Jim Horney, Isaac Shapiro, Ruth Carlitz, Bradley Hardy, and David Kamin, “Where Would the Cuts Be Made under the President’s Budget?: An Analysis of Reductions in Education, Human Services, Environment, and Community Development Programs,” Center on Budget and Policy Priorities, February 28, 2005, www.cbpp.org.

[54] Dale Maharidge, “Rust and Rage.”

[55] Arlie Hochschild, “The Chauffeur’s Dilemma,” American Prospect 16: 7 (July 2005), 53.

[56] Ibid.

[57] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together: The Classic Exploration of Faith in Community (New York: HarperCollins, 1954), 330.

[58] D. James Kennedy, Evangelism Explosion, 4th ed. (Wheaton, IL: Tyndale House, 1996), 59.

[59] Ibid.

[60] Ibid., 60.

[61] Ibid., 137.

[62] Ibid., 2.

[63] Ibid., 139.

[64] Ibid., 103.

[65] Ibid., 22.

[66] Margaret Thaler Singer, Cults in Our Midst: The Continuing Fight Against Their Hidden Menace (San Francisco: Jossey-Bass, 2003), 114.

[67] Robert Jay Lifton, cited in Denise Winn, The Manipulated Mind (Cambridge, MA: Malor Books, 2000), 21.

[68] William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience (Mineola, NY: Dover, 2002), 187.

[69] “Staff Biography: ‘Dr. James Kennedy,’” Center for Reclaiming America for Christ, www.reclaimamerica Us.aspx?pg=djk.

[70] “Dr. Kennedy’s Profile,” The Kennedy Commentary, www.kennedycommentary.org; Truths That Transform, Coral Ridge Ministries, www.truthsthattransform. org/ITT.asp?page=about; “About the Coral Ridge Hour,” The Coral Ridge Hour, www.coralridgehour.org page=crh.

[71] Terry Gross, “Closing the Gap Between Church and State,” Fresh Air from WHYY, May 18, 2005.

[72] Ibid.

[73] Bob Moser, “The Crusaders,” Rolling Stone, April 7, 2005, www.rollingstone.com =1140382586732&has-player=false.

[74] Ibid.

[75] Ashley Fantz, “Cross Purposes: The Rev. D. James Kennedy Teaches That Homosexuality Is a Sin. Richard Murphy Loves Him Anyway,” Broward–Palm Beach New Times, May 2, 2002.

[76] Worthy Creations, www.worthycreations.org.

[77] Rob Boston, “D. James Kennedy: Who Is He and What Does He Want?” Americans United for Separation of Church and State, www.au.org.

[78] Kennedy, Evangelism Explosion, 72.

[79] Ibid.

[80] Ibid., 73.

[81] Ibid., 84.

[82] Ibid., 42.

[83] Ibid.

[84] Paul Tillich, “You Are Accepted,” in The Shaking of the Foundations (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1948), 155.

[85] Kennedy, Evangelism Explosion, 48.

[86] D. James Kennedy and Jerry Newcombe, The Gates of Hell Shall Not Prevail (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1996), 135.

[87] “Aggregated Grants to Coral Ridge Ministries, Coral Ridge Presbyterian Church and Evangelism Explosion” (grants cover January 1998 to February 2004), Media Transparency, www.mediatransparency.org.

[88] Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies (Minneapolis, MN: University of Minnesota Press, 1987), 1:218.

[89] Francis FitzGerald, “A Disciplined, Charging Army,” New Yorker, May 18, 1981, 53, quoted in Robert Smart, “The Passion of the Christ: Reflections on Mel’s Monstrous Messiah Movie and the Culture Wars,” Jump Cut 47 (Winter 2005), www.ejumpcut.org.

[90] Karen McCarthy Brown, “Fundamentalism and the Control of Women,” in Fundamentalism and Gender, ed. John Stratton Hawley (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 176.

[91] Ibid., 182–183.

[92] “Dobson’s Choice: Religious Right Leader Becomes Political Power Broker,” People for the American Way Foundation, February 24, 2005, www.pfaw.

[93] James Dobson, Dare to Discipline (New York: Bantam, 1977), 23.

[94] “Dobson’s Choice.”

[95] “Right Wing Organizations: Focus on the Family,” People for the American Way Foundation, www.pfaw#.

[96] “Dobson’s Choice.”

[97] James Dobson, “The Gender Gap,” Focus on the Family, www.family.org.

[98] Mark Edmundson, “Freud and the Fundamentalist Urge,” New York Times, April 30, 2006.

[99] Ibid.

[100] Susan Friend Harding, The Book of Jerry Falwell: Fundamentalist Language and Politics (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2000), 176.

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Eiji Kikumaru

[PROFILE]

Birthday: November 28th (Sagittarius)

Blood Type: A

Relatives: Grandfather, grandmother, father, mother, two older brothers, two older sisters, dog, parrot (Taichi), guppy [TP]

Father’s Occupation: Company employee (newspaper reporter)

Elementary School: Hikarigaoka Elementary School

Middle School: Seishun Academy Junior High School

Grade & Class: Third Year | Class 3-6 | Seat 7

Club: Tennis Club (regular)

Committee: None

Strong Subjects: Japanese history

Weak Subjects: English

Most Visited Spot at School: Gym

Favorite Motto: “See which way the cat jumps.” ➜ “If you can be a cat, you can be a tiger.” [TP]

Daily Routines: Fighting with his siblings over which channel to watch

Hobbies: Visiting pet shops, brushing his teeth

Favorite Color: Red

Favorite Music: J-Pop

Favorite Movie: Anime, fantasy films

Favorite Book: Idol magazines (Morning Star [TP])

Favorite Food: Fluffy omelettes, tender fried shrimp, crunchy shaved ice

Favorite Anniversary: May 22nd

Preferred Type: A cheerful girl, a girl he can laugh with ➜ A girl he can laugh with all the time [TP]

Ideal Date Spot: An amusement park ➜ A zoo with meerkats [TP]

His Gift for a Special Person: “The fluffy loungewear that I wear too!”

Where He Wants to Travel: Koganezaki Park

What He Wants Most Right Now: A new knit hat ➜ A koala stuffed animal [23.5]

Dislikes: Going to the bathroom at night, changing his clothes during the winter [23.5]

Skills Outside of Tennis: Cooking, fly-swatting, collecting bugs, completing capsule toy sets [TP]

Spends Allowance On: Saving money to buy rare sneakers

Routine During the World Cup: Hanging out in everyone’s rooms

[DATA]

Height: 171cm | 5’7”

Weight: 52kg | 114 lbs ➜ 53kg | 116 lbs [23.5]

Shoe Size: 24.5cm

Dominant Arm: Right

Vision: 1.0 Left | 0.8 Right

Play Style: Serve & Volleyer

Signature Moves: Diving Volley, Acrobatic Play Style, Kikumaru Beam, Kikumaru Bazooka, Kikumaru Seal Step

Time Spent on Endurance Training: 4 hours a day

Equipment Brands:

Racket: WILSON (Slash DT Mid)

Shoes: DUNLOP (Revelation Pro Tour Series 90)

Fitness Test Results:

Sidesteps: 67

Shuttle Run: 120

Back Strength: 129kg

Grip Strength: 48kg

Backbend: 67cm

Seated Forward Bend: 52.8cm

50m Run: 6.62 seconds

Standing Long Jump: 246cm

Handball Throw: 31.5m

Endurance Run (1500m): 4:48

Overall Rating: Speed: 4 / Power: 2 / Stamina: 4 / Mental: 2 / Technique: 4 / Total: 16

Kurobe Memo: “Kikumaru has a strong heart because he recognizes the difference between friendship and sympathy. If possible, I’d like to see him take steps to better himself.” <Official Description>

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bedroom [10.5]:

“Daigoro”: His giant teddy bear. His sitting position is lopsided and he falls over easily since he was handled roughly

Bookshelf: He buys a lot of miscellaneous things but doesn’t discard any of them, so it’s very full

Outlet extender: Used for his TV, MD stereo, hair dryer, desk lamp, etc.

Bunk bed: He sleeps on the top bunk, and him and his older brother’s clothes are stored in the space beneath the bed. His bed cover also has a teddy bear pattern

His older brother’s desk: Their parents changed it from a study desk to an office desk when his brother entered high school. Both him and his brother use it for studying

What’s in His Bag [10.5]:

Notebook and writing supplies: He has them just in case even though it’s unlikely he’ll use them

Toothbrush kit: He always carries it with him

A snack: Calbee JagaRico. He brings a snack on days when there’s practice since he gets hungry afterward

MP3 player: He listens to the latest trending music on his way to and from school

Hair wax: Mod’s Hair brand to restore his curls after exercising

Hairbrush: It takes him approximately three minutes to fix his hairstyle with hair wax

Bandages: It’s a mystery as to why he always wears them…

Playing cards: He carries them to show off any magic tricks he’s learned

[TRIVIA]

The Prince of Tennis 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 11/02/2001

He likes food meant for children and was always given children’s food at restaurants due to him being the youngest of five siblings

He likes sweets and dislikes spicy food

He loves brushing his teeth and is particular on the type of toothpaste he uses. He has his own toothpaste that is separate from his family’s

His entire family cooks and he is good at cooking as well. He specializes in making egg-based dishes, particularly omelettes

He is known to be very positive and always tries being cheerful

He and Oishi always have review meetings when they lose a match

Konomi developed Kikumaru’s phrases and speech from phrases he heard when he was a child

Konomi came up with his name since he thought a name with “-maru” in it would be cute

Konomi gave him cat-like qualities since he wanted him to be a whimsical character

He had lost many matches prior to the main storyline

He and Oishi have been an official doubles pair since they were second years

His hairstyle is not natural, he styles his hair every morning with hair wax

His parrot has a habit of saying “hey, Eiji!” because of his mother and older sister

He is good at swatting flies due to his excellent vision

He is described as being bright, cheerful, and always smiling, but also tends to tire out from all the excitement

Konomi describes him as a “natural character.” Not cool nor heroic, just a normal, natural young man

The Prince of Tennis 20.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2003

He will clearly express his emotions

People of all ages are easily endeared by him and will even admire him

He is described to be suited for professions such as being a model, entertainer, or childcare worker

He is very pampered in his family due to him being the youngest child, and he gained his lighthearted personality from it

His secondary sport would be gymnastics

The Prince of Tennis 40.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 12/04/2007

His spirit animal is a salamander

He was more frivolous and would dawdle when he was younger, but has greatly matured since then

He has built up his stamina due to him doing low oxygen training

He is actually bad with technology and doesn’t even know how to record a video. When he went to the gym, he would constantly ask the staff how to use the machines

He is unsure of how many times he can duplicate himself, but states he wants to reach 100

Konomi states he is the most similar to his own tennis playing style

He is the character Konomi would like to be a part of his family since he’s cheerful and fun

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 1 | Publication Date: 11/04/2009

He is shown having a personal cell phone and showing Shiraishi Zaizen’s blog despite his previous information stating he is bad with technology

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 4 | Publication Date: 02/04/2010

He is fine playing doubles with a different partner, stating that he and Oishi will always be the Golden Pair regardless

He came up with his current hairstyle from growing out his hair and tampering with it

He and his family argue over which TV channel to watch, he has won only three times and wants to keep it a secret

He is happiest playing tennis when Oishi scores a perfect point

When asked what he struggles with at home, he replies with nothing and that his large family is easier to handle than school

When asked who he struggles with in the club, he replies with Oishi when he’s not playing tennis since he finds him too serious

Konomi named him after a friend he had in his middle school tennis club, “Haremaru”

Konomi created his acrobatic play style to be different from normal tennis, and wanted to express it in an animalistic or feline way

Konomi states Kikumaru isn’t too fond of Tezuka, and tries not to get too close to him. He states he is also aware that he has never drawn the two having a conversation

Konomi states Kikumaru’s appearance may not change much since he wants to depict him as a real-life middle school student

One of His School Days:

5:50am - Woken up by his brother

6:00am - On breakfast duty

6:50am - Arrives at school, attends morning practice

8:40am - 1st Period: Art

9:40am - 2nd Period: Social Studies (Japanese history)

11:00am - 3rd Period: PE (basketball)

12:00pm - 4th Period: Math III

12:50pm - Lunch, eats homemade bentos with Oishi in his classroom

1:20pm - 5th Period: Science III (chemistry)

2:20pm - 6th Period: English (grammar)

3:20pm - English supplementary course

4:00pm - Voluntary training, helps guide the underclassmen

5:30pm - Returns home after shopping for dinner

6:00pm - Helps with dinner

7:00pm - Plays a video game (an hour a day)

8:30pm - Takes an evening walk

10:00pm - Returns home, bathes, watches dramas and variety shows

11:30pm - Goes to bed

The Prince of Tennis II Official Character Guide: PairPuri Vol. 6 | Publication Date: 06/03/2011

He, Tezuka, and Fuji are shown having a chat with Yamato and appears surprised over the latter’s changed appearance

The Prince of Tennis II 10.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 09/04/2013

He exchanges messages with his family everyday. However, he struggles responding since his family’s quite large

The Prince of Tennis II 23.5 Fanbook | Publication Date: 05/02/2018

Oishi had lended him 80 yen the day before the metropolitan tournament since he had went to him crying over not having enough money to buy a new pair of shoes he wanted

The Prince of Tennis 20th Anniversary Book: Tenipuri Party | Publication Date: 08/02/2019

Aside from playing tennis, he has gotten into parkour after watching a video about it

His parents had bought Daigoro for him since he disliked eating salmon and wanted a bear who would eat it instead

[dreammakcr]

ON HIATUS UNTIL 8/1

hello friends! welcome to dreammakcr. independent. semi-selective. low-activity. an oc friendly, multi-universe, multi-muse, multi-ship fandom blog. this will contain nsfw and taboo content that will not be tagged. will not interact with anyone or any muse under 18. penned by Luna (31. married. EST. she/her.)

I can also be found at: @gcddamnvampire

draft count: 114 queue count: 12 meme count: 64

rules ║ muses ║ mobile muse page ║ starters ║ permanent starter calls

fandoms include:

harry potter

twilight

a court of thorns and roses

saints row

pride and prejudice (2005)

charmed (1998)

the folk of the air

detective comics

disney

anastasia

six the musical

rent

wicked

a song of fire and ice

greek mythology

lost girl

sailor moon

the princess diaries

brooklyn 99

buffy the vampire slayer

the addams family

supernatural

legally blonde

the host

baldur's gate 3

the shadows between us

kingdom of the wicked

serpent and dove

once upon a time

law and order: svu

clue

the greatest showman

the powerpuff girls

james bond

beetlejuice

dracula

911

star wars

the wizard of oz

hamilton

scandal

the royals

daughter of the pirate king

sky in the deep

barbie

titanic

alice madness returns

pirates of the caribbean

ride the cyclone

grease

halloweentown

lollipop chainsaw

red dead redemption 2

castle

sabrina the teenage witch

the good place

scooby doo

matilda

new girl

the nanny

golden girls

abbott elementary

hogwarts legacy

community

doctor who

yona and the dawn

totally spies

repo! the genetic opera

spy kids

mean girls

scream

halloween

fear street

ever after

[kaylaesquivel]

Readerly Exploration #4

October 2, 2023

Title: “Collaborative Reading and Writing: Learning in the Company in Peers”

Citation: Fisher, et. al. (2020), Chapter 4, “Collaborative Reading and Writing: Learning in the Company of Peers,” (pp. 82-96)

Takeaway: The big takeaway that I received from this chapter is that students need to be engaged in more independent and smaller group literacy groups in order to develop skills that they do not gain from a whole-group instruction.

Nugget: With younger students, it is important to have a variety of literary elements in the classroom, like group reading, peer conversations, or literature circles.

Narration: An important mentor in my faith is my mom! I decided to talk to her about her perspective on an excerpt of the chapter. I focused on page 94-95, which talks about how individual practice outside of the teacher’s instruction is valuable and important for a student to be able to completely develop under a literacy skill. I had a conversation about how I found it interesting that students should not be given just one thing to repeat over and over again. With this reading, I told my mom that I learned that it is more meaningful when a teacher gives smaller engagement pieces of literacy so that the students are not overwhelmed or falling under the pattern of repetition. My mom found it intriguing that this is how literacy can be taught, because she was in a completely different world when she was in elementary school. She cannot remember when a teacher valued independent working or reading, and if you were to fall behind in a large group instruction, there were no interventions to help you gain the skills you needed. I also had a conversation with my mom about how I hope to make an influence on my students in a way that they will not feel like they are falling behind and to give them opportunities to learn on their own. I also mentioned how I hope to influence them in a godly way, and show them the love that God has for all of us.

Multimedia documentation: Unfortunately, I did not get a photo from when we had a conversation. Here is a quote I found from the excerpt we talked about: “Time away from the teacher is an excellent opportunity to provide students with the practice they need to fully develop these skills. Practice when done well, moves learning forward” (pg. 94). Also, this is a photo of my mom and I when I was 10, just for fun! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Title: “Small-Group Reading Instruction: Targeted Support through Guided Reading”

Citation: Fisher, et. al. (2020), Chapter 5, “Small-Group Reading Instruction: Targeted Support through Guided Reading,” (pp. 114-128)

Takeaway: A takeaway from this reading is that it is important to select literature for each student that is connected to their reading level while being able to create small group instruction and check comprehension for individual students.

Nugget: Students need to be asked important questions to be able to understand what reading is and what elements are valuable to gain from reading books.

[mf1346]

week 7

Due date: 10/2/23

Articles:

Fisher, et. al. (2020), Chapter 4, “Collaborative Reading and Writing: Learning in the Company of Peers,” (pp. 82-96)

Fisher, et. al. (2020), Chapter 5, “Small-Group Reading Instruction: Targeted Support through Guided Learning,” (pp. 114-128)

Big takeaway 1: Meaningful learning requires balancing purpose (deliberative practice and knowledge building) with a growing capacity for our learners to self-manage. In the sections that follow, we will examine each of the elements needed so that our students continue learning outside our direction.

Big takeaway 2: How to properly create and instruct small group reading instruction/interventions

Nugget 1: Building capacity of self regulation through a month program being broken down by 1st 10 days, 2nd 10 days (For older students and younger) 

Nugget 2: The instructional contingency rubric for increasing levels of help  

Paragraph: First I found a concept map template to use for this activity and then I wrote the overall concept of the article and wrote it in the middle. After that I put concepts or details about the article in the other circles. I put the bigger topics in the bigger circles and in the smaller circles I wrote the smaller details. It took me back to my elementary school days when we used to do them pretty frequently in ELA, so it was pretty easy in the sense I knew what to do but deciding what was the most important information in the whole chapter was a bit tricky. It reminded men to make sure that my students understand what the most important concepts are and the key information. This activity better helped me understand the text by just focusing on the most important information and concepts that I will need it in order to have the article impact me and be able to have a conversation with peers about. It reminded meof all the different ways we used to interpret knowledge when we were young and how much it was actually affected.It also helped me to be reminded of how I can help my students learn how to pick out important information to help them be successful and confident in learning. 

Multimedia: concept map

[udo0stories]

A low-vaccination-rate elementary school in the Fort Lauderdale area has been linked to a cluster of measles cases, which prompted Florida health officials to launch an investigation on Sunday. Given the country's declining vaccination rates, experts predict that this situation will only get worse. A student at Manatee Bay Elementary School in the city of Weston has been confirmed to have the measles, according to a report released by Broward County Public Schools on Friday. According to a local CBS affiliate, the case involved a third-grader who had not gone on any recent vacations. The current reported total of four cases at the same school is increased to three after the school system announced on Saturday that three more cases had been reported. The Florida Department of Health in Broward County, also known as DOH-Broward, issued a health advisory regarding the cases on Sunday and declared it would launch an investigation to identify contacts who might be infected. There might be more than a hundred kids at risk at Manatee Bay Elementary School. In the 2023–2024 school year, only 89.31 percent of students at Manatee Bay Elementary School were fully immunized, which is significantly lower than the target vaccination coverage of 95 percent, according to a Broward County vaccine study that was covered by the local CBS outlet. With 1,067 students enrolled at the school right now, it is possible that, depending on their immunization history, up to 114 of them are susceptible to the infection. Among the viruses that are most contagious is the measles. Through airborne and respiratory transmission, it spreads. After an infected person leaves an area, the virus can remain in the atmosphere for up to two hours. Individuals who lack immunity or have impaired immune systems are vulnerable, and as much as 90% of those at risk who come into contact with the virus will contract it. Measles can incubate for up to 21 days, but symptoms usually appear eight to fourteen days after exposure. Before the characteristic rash appears, there are other symptoms that include a high fever, runny nose, red and watery eyes, and cough. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention state that an infected person can spread the infection four days prior to the rash developing and four days following the appearance of the rash. According to the CDC, 1 in 5 unvaccinated cases of measles result in hospitalization, 1 in 20 cases cause pneumonia in children, and up to 3 in 1,000 cases result in pediatric death. Those who are not immunocompromised and are fully vaccinated against measles (who have received two doses of the Measles, Mumps, and Rubella (MMR) vaccine) are generally not considered at risk. The two doses are about 97 percent effective at preventing measles, and protection is considered to be life-long. The DOH-Broward said it is now "identifying susceptible contacts that may be candidates for post-exposure prophylaxis through MMR or immunoglobulin." While the risk of measles is generally low in the US—the country declared it eliminated in 2000—the threat of large outbreaks is growing as vaccination rates slip. Many cases in the US are linked to travel from countries where the virus still circulates. But if a travel-related case lands in a pocket with low vaccination coverage, the virus can take off. Such was the case in 2019, when the country tallied 1,274 measles cases and nearly lost its elimination status. Health officials typically consider vaccination coverage of 95 percent or greater sufficient to protect against ongoing transmission. In the years since the COVID-19 pandemic began, vaccination rates among US kindergarteners have slipped to 93 percent, and vaccination exemptions reached an all-time high in the latest data from the 2022–2023 school year. There are now at least 10 states that have vaccination exemption rates above 5 percent, meaning that even if every non-exempt child is vaccinated, those states will not have enough coverage to reach the 95 percent target.

The CDC has tallied 20 measles cases in the US so far this year. But that is the tally as of February 15; it does not include any of the Florida cases reported since Friday. In 2023, there were 58 measles cases reported to the CDC. This story originally appeared on Ars Technica.

[chicagochinesenews]

芝加哥美少女失蹤一個多月下落不明

(芝加哥時報快訊) 芝加哥警方正尋找自2月初以來從東側社區失蹤的一名青少女。14歲的艾萊萬特·蒙卡達（Elevant Moncada）上一次被見到是在2月7日，地點在喬治·華盛頓高中（George Washington High School）附近的114街，介於O大道和L大道之間。據警方表示，蒙卡達經常出沒於薩多斯基小學（Sadlowski Elementary School）周圍地區。 Continue reading 芝加哥美少女失蹤一個多月下落不明

[hellenlens]

Elementary 114 / 118

Sherlock suggested Joan could live in his house. He said it would save her some money.

Living in his house in question: some fabric used as curtains.

[pumpkin-spice-whump]

Endless Dusk Chapter One

This is I guess a sneak peak at Endless Dusk. The entire first chapter! If you so saw me post an unfinished version of this chapter a few months ago no you didn't

Hope you guys enjoy :) roughly 5k words

--

Chapter One

Jack bangs his head against the wall. 106. He lazily lifts his neck and drops it again. 107. He decided he was on his way to beat his all time high of 318 a while ago. He only stopped then because he blacked out for a second, and he figured that repeatedly smashing his head into the wall wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

But he can’t find it in himself to care what the smartest thing to do is when he is this bored out of his mind.

108.

Not like ‘there’s nothing on TV’ bored. Bored like Jack only has eight books in his cell anyway, and never mind the fact that he’s already read them all so much he’s got them memorized, but also the lightbulb has been flickering and if it goes out then he’ll be in darkness for months on end so he might as well just sit in darkness now by choice. So that’s what Jack’s doing. He took a nap. Again. And now he’s sitting in darkness and banging the back of his head against the wall because this is better than letting his mind wander.

109.

Jack can never let his mind wander. When it does he always ends up crying so hard he throws up, or plotting how he can potentially end his own life.

110.

If he lets his mind wander he might think of his mom. He might think that he’s got no idea how old she is now and she’s spent too many Christmases alone. He’ll think about how terrified he was when he was grabbed and thrown into the trunk of a car. How he never even thought about that happening to him so he had no idea what to do except lash out and kick his attacker.

He’s still got the scar on the side of his head from the man’s rings.

111.

Jack will think about the times he’s tried to keep track of the days on the wall next to his bed, but gave up when he stopped being aware of when it was day or night. He had a little breakdown that day, when he realized that he’d been there so long he didn’t know how long anymore.

112.

He’ll think about the part of his ear that was cut off for no reason. The way he limps every time he walks and keels over every time he breathes too hard. He’ll think about the fingers he’s lo—

113. 114. 115. 116.

Shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up!

Jack had a TV once. One of those big box TVs with the VHS player attached that he hadn’t seen since he was in elementary school. He played the few tapes he had basically 24/7. They weren’t good movies, he saw Joe Dirt so many times he dreamt about him, but it was something. Human voices to occupy his time. Voices besides his painful memories and… Mr. Reeder.

117.

Mr. Reeder isn’t the man who first took Jack. Once, in a bout of quiet contemplation much like this one, Jack let himself realize that he was in fact a victim of human trafficking. In his mind, trafficking was only for sex slavery or organ harvesting. But he was kidnapped, and then sold. For money. It’s not like he’s got Google on hand, but Jack’s pretty sure that’s the definition.

118.

No, Jack’s actually got no idea who first threw him in the car. He was walking home from a friend’s house. Not even a friend, just someone to hang out with so he wouldn’t be bored. 

Fifteen year old Jack had no idea what boredom was.

It was dark. He had earbuds in. He was alone. He was an idiot.

He never heard the car pull up beside him. Someone grabbed his shoulder and he turned around to ask them what the hell, but by the time he understood what was going on he was already in the man’s arms, hand over his mouth and phone tossed to the street. Jack had kicked out, managing to hit his attacker in the shin, but it didn’t stop him. He was thrown into the trunk of the car, and before he could even catch his breath to call for help, he was knocked out.

The whole ordeal probably didn’t take more than two minutes, if that. No time for anyone to hear a scuffle and come looking.

Jack woke up later to his arms and legs tied up, duct tape around his head, and the feeling of blood on his face.

119.

He doesn’t like to think about the early days. The constant fear and exhaustion that took hold of him. That still does if he’s being honest. He likes to think he’s more resigned now. Apathetic, if you will.

It makes stomaching his own existence a little easier.

120.

He lifts his head off the wall once again, but pauses before he can get to 121. Out of pure necessity, Jack is a very good listener. So despite being a floor down and many walls away, he can always hear Mr. Reeder’s car pulling into the driveway. No matter how many times he hears  it, Jack can never stop the way his body tenses, the way his heart rate picks up. He swallows and stares up at the ceiling, waiting for more.

It’s been a few days. Mr. Reeder would leave to go to work every day, and sometimes he’d go somewhere for a night or two, but this has been the longest yet. Jack had woken up and went to sleep eight different times (half were naps, he knew, but even still it was at least four days). He’s running out of food. Even if he didn’t see Mr. Reeder every day, he at least knew he was home.

He despises that he thinks of this place as his home.

The door upstairs slams and Jack can’t repress a flinch. He stares up into the darkness, eyes following the sound of heavy footsteps across the floor. The footsteps stop. Jack holds his breath to listen, the only unwelcome sound that of his own heavy heart.

A slamming door is not good. Stomping across the living room is not good. What kind of mood is he going to be in?

Jack gasps and flinches again at the sound of Mr. Reeder yelling, a wordless, angry shout, and then something crashes to the ground above him. Another shout and crash. Another. And another.

Mr. Reeder’s throwing things. So it’s safe to say he’s in, what Jack would call, a not good mood.

He tries his best to tune out the sounds above and focus on himself. He needs to calm down before Mr. Reeder gets here, or it’s going to be worse. Freaking out beforehand helps no one, and he ends up being in pain anyway so what’s the point. 

Jack closes his eyes (he can’t see anyway) and takes long, deep breaths. In through his nose, out through his mouth. His ribs flare painfully with each inhale, but Jack welcomes it. It grounds him. Lets him know he still exists, in this painful body and dark basement. He still exists.

Unfortunately.

Jack makes himself keep breathing as the footsteps get closer and closer, making their way down the stairs and stopping just outside his door.

It never gets easier. The suspense of waiting for his captor, it just never does. Even if his mind knows it’s going to be the same old same old, his body is terrified. It’s tired of being hurt, of being hungry, of being weary and bored.

Sometimes he’s so bored he’s actually relieved, not nervous, when Mr. Reeder comes. Oddly enough, this was not one of those times.

The keys jingle. A lock clicks. And Mr. Reeder pushes open the door. 

Jack squints against the light from the basement filtering in from the cracked door. He lets out his last inhale and stares down at the heavy boots in front of him. He’s always wondered how much of the mud caking them is actually his own blood.

Mr. Reeder just stands there for a moment, watching his captive. He’s silhouetted against the light so Jack can’t see his expression. Jack waits for him to say something, anything. He doesn’t.

Jack clears his throat. “Mr. Reeder?”

“Shut the hell up.”

Jack nods, looking at the ground. His heart pounds in his ears.

Mr. Reeder’s hand shoots out suddenly, gripping Jack by the hair and hauling him up out of his room. Jack hisses in pain, hands clawing at the fist tangled in his hair.

Jack kicks at the ground, trying his best to get his feet under himself enough to relieve the pressure on his head. His bad leg howls in protest at the sudden actions, but he does his best to push through. As he begins to be dragged up the stairs, Jack grits his teeth to stop from crying out, knee painfully banging against each. Individual. Step.

Each step, Jack is able to brace the pain a little more and become more aware of what exactly is happening.

He’s going upstairs. He hasn’t been upstairs since he first got here. The current circumstances are much different than those last time, so why the hell is Mr. Reeder bringing him upstairs?

He begins to fight.

Jack has been doing this a long time. Longer than he actually knows, but he’s positive it’s years. He’s an adult probably old enough to drink. That’s a long time to become a professional at getting your ass kicked. And being a professional victim, Jack knows that the less you struggle, the easier it is. Easier to deal with the pain, to get it over with, and stomach his own cowardice… Or resourcefulness. He’s a survivor, that much he knows.

So he only fights back when he’s really scared.

And he has reason to be. When Jack was just a brand new greenie kidnappee, demanding to be let back upstairs, Mr. Reeder had leaned down, close to his face, so close that Jack had to lean away from the smell of the peppermint nicotine pouch in his mouth.

“The only way you are ever going back up those stairs,” he said lowly, coldly, “is if I want to see your brains on the wall in natural lighting.”

It was the first time that Jack had thought I might not make it out of here alive. It took him a much longer time to accept it.

Apparently he hasn’t accepted it at all, Jack thinks as he wrenches his head out of Mr. Reeder’s grasp and dives to crawl away from him. It was never going to work but he needs to try.

Jack Thatcher was NOT taken away from his mother for years just to be shot in the head by some isolated lunatic. At least, he wasn’t going to without a fight.

Mr. Reeder grabs him easily, yanking him back by his bad leg, stretching it out. Jack can feel poorly healed bones in his knee scraping together, pinching the long disused muscles around them. He let out a shout before Mr. Reeder pulls him by his waist instead, hauling him into a room, slamming the door shut and sitting in front of it, trapping Jack inside.

With nowhere else to go, Jack pushes himself into the corner farthest from his captor, arms protectively shielding his right knee. His chest heaves and he can feel the stupid tightness starting in his throat that happens before he cries. He hates crying in front of Mr. Reeder, but it is continuously unavoidable.

Mr. Reeder sits in front of the door, catching his breath as well. He runs a hand through greasy hair, staring at the ceiling. He sighs heavily, like his life is the one here not worth living.

Tragic.

With his captor temporarily distracted, Jack takes stock of his surroundings. A mattress with no sheets is pushed against the corner opposite himself, some dirty clothes thrown at it’s end. A cracked mirror is attached to a dresser, dust slightly distorting the image of the ceiling. Behind Jack is a window half boarded up, letting a sliver of light into the room, washing over his captor. It looks like it’s golden hour outside.

Jack’s struck with the thought that this is the first time he’s seen the sun since he went down those stairs. Really, since he was thrown into that car as a teenager. He always had a blindfold on, or he was transported at night. The most fundamental, most simple and basic thing a human has access to, Jack hasn’t for years. Still just out of reach.

His attention is brought back to Mr. Reeder when he sighs again. He warily looks up at Jack. “You’re lucky you know.” Jack doesn’t move. He’s heard the ‘you should be glad I’m not worse’ speech before. “You have no idea what you’ve missed. No idea … what you’ve been spared. What I’ve spared you from.”

Jack only watches apprehensively. His body is tight, poised like he’s ready to try to run again. Where, with Mr. Reeder blocking the door? 

“I didn’t mean to spare you from it,” he goes on. “Heaven knows that wasn’t my intention. I think you could have benefited from being in the middle of it all.” He chuckles and Jack shrinks away even more. “Oh the look on your face would’ve been everything … Oh well. It’s just about over anyway.”

It’s nonsense. Total nonsense. Mr. Reeder is certifiably insane, no doubt about it. He’s gone on long manic monologues before, Jack’s heard just about everything. 

He’s never seen Mr. Reeder pull a gun from his waistband though.

He can’t help the sharp intake of breath, the sudden urge to run! Run now! Go! He’s got no idea what to do with it so he just stands up, so quickly it doesn’t even hurt, and backs even further into the corner. Mr. Reeder always threatened that he had a gun but Jack had never had proof until right now.

Mr. Reeder looks at him from under his brows. “Sit down Jack.”

All he can do is shake his head, breaths coming out fast and shallow. The floor is liquid beneath his feet, his body shakes where it stands.

The gun clicks and points right at Jack. “Sit. Down.”

He slides down the wall, hands up. His throat bobs with a swallow, just to do something with his mouth other than sob. Tears fall steadily down his cheeks and his lower lip trembles.

Mr. Reeder, satisfied with Jack’s cooperation, relaxes his grip on the gun, hefting it like he’s simply judging the weight.

“There wasn’t much time,” he says. Jack shifts his focus from the gun to his captor, staring with wide eyes and frayed nerves. “I was trying to think about what to do with you but … I mean, there just wasn’t much time. I’m not sure I would’ve done anything even if there was. You’ve said it yourself Jack, who wants to die alone?”

His eyes meet Jack’s for the first time and Jack can see … tears. Welling in them. It only terrifies him more. “Mr. Reeder …”

“Shh. Shh sh sh.” He shakes his head, working his jaw. “Do you believe in God, Jack?”

Jack swallows. “I don’t know,” he whispers, voice catching on the words. “I used to.”

“What about heaven and hell? Think those exist?”

Jack can feel the panic claw up his throat, making him want to sob and scream. “I hope so.”

“Hmm … I wonder if hell will be any worse than earth.”

This is it then, Jack thinks. He’s going to take us both out, as a sick end to his sick life. He’s bored of me and now it’s over, it’s all over.

“Mr. Reeder please,” Jack begs, tears blurring his vision, “please don’t. Don’t do it.”

He furrows his brows, and looks down at the gun. He shakes his head. “See you in hell, Jack.”

Jack hears the sound of the gun before he can process what his eyes just saw. He flinches back violently, closing his eyes and clapping his hands over his ears. Everything is quiet for a long while and Jack wonders if he saw wrong, if he’s dead right now. The ringing sets in a moment later, and, with a sinking heart, he opens his eyes.

Mr. Reeder sits, slack jawed, against the door. The gun lies limply in his lap. Blank eyes stare right at Jack. 

And the orange light from the window illuminates the blood and brain matter splattered across the door.

Jack can’t help the scream that escapes from his lips. It tears at his throat, breaking in and out of sound. He screams so loudly and long he runs out of breath, and then suddenly keels over and retches on the ground, coughing against the vile acid in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, gasping for breath. 

What the hell. What the hell what the hell what the hell! It’s all he can think, around and around again and again.

He opens his eyes and glances back up at Mr. Reeder for just a moment before looking away again.

Jack is still alive. He’s still alive, he’s alive. Mr. Reeder is dead. Not just dead—he killed himself. He just took Jack into a room and shot himself in the head! He talked about killing Jack all the time to see him squirm but he never once acted like he was going down with him! He didn’t even try to kill Jack…

Jack sits, eyes closed and breathing heavily, mind running in circles, for much longer than he cares to admit before one thought breaks through the horror and revulsion.

I can leave. 

He's upstairs. He’s not locked in. The man in control of him is dead. He can get up and walk away. He can leave, there’s nothing stopping him.

Except the dead body in front of the door.

Jack stares up at the ceiling and lets his head fall back against the wall behind him. He does it again, and again. 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 …

He’s to 51 when he finally feels calm enough to do what he needs to. Jack uses the wall to hoist himself up, right leg slightly bent to keep pressure off of it. It hurts like a mother because of the recent abuse. Mr. Reeder usually leaves the leg alone now, saying having a full cripple would be too much work.

Well.

He used to say that anyway.

The corner of Jack’s mouth slightly rises in a half smile. He limps forward, keeping his eyes averted. His hands shake when he reaches for the door handle and pulls, but it doesn’t budge. Mr. Reeder is too heavy. He’s going to have to move him.

“Don’t think about it,” he mutters. “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.” He holds his breath—that makes it easier he thinks—reaches down, grabs the body’s shoulder, and pulls. Mr. Reeder doesn’t do much but slump over, forehead touching the ground.

The wound on the back of his head gapes. Jack covers his mouth when he realizes the white and pink stuff is Mr. Reeder’s brain and skull. 

Mr. Reeder was just a man. He wasn’t a god or a monster. He was just a man who made Jack’s life hell. A man who wanted power and got it, albeit only over one person. A man with no feelings, no empathy.

 And now he’s just a body. A body that can’t hurt Jack anymore.

 Jack opens the door and steps into the hallway.

It is so … eerily quiet. The basement was quiet most of the time, sure, but it’s supposed to be quiet. It’s a basement. It makes sense. This is a house. A normal house. There’s carpet and cupboards and a thermostat on the wall. It isn’t supposed to be silent, but something in Jack can’t bear to disturb it. He tiptoes down the hallway and pauses at the end of it, peering into the living room.

It is trashed. The TV is shattered, glass strewn on the carpet. The couch and chair are upended, one of the legs broken in two.

That was what Mr. Reeder was doing? Ruining his house before he offed himself? Who does that?

“Psychos, Jack,” he says aloud. “Psychos.”

Something on the other side of the room catches his eye. 

A landline.

Jack watches where he’s going, carefully avoiding the glass and splintered wood, rushing to the phone. He holds it to his ear and dials 911 with shaking hands, listening closely.

He waits, five, ten, thirty seconds. He hangs up and dials again. There’s not even a dial tone. Jack smashes the phone against the wall and lets it hang.

“Dammit!” The sound is hollowly absorbed against the walls. Everything echoes so much down in his cell that it’s slightly off-putting. But he needs to think.

 Mr. Reeder probably has a cell phone, but Jack is not going back in that room. A shudder runs through him even thinking about it.

He cautiously walks through the kitchen, stepping over the overturned kitchen table and chairs, to a back door. The musty smell of a garage washes over him, and he rushes for the car. It’s a junker from the 90s, paint and rust aging it. His hands shake reaching for the doorhandle, pulling it open with a piercing squeak from the door hinges. The keys are still in the ignition, thank the freakin’ heavens. The engine sputters when Jack turns them. He tries again, stepping on the gas.

The car doesn’t move. His eyes track along the dash and he just manages to spot the LOW FUEL flashing light next to the arrow sitting past the E before he smashes his head against the steering wheel. How did Mr. Reeder even get home?! Did he ride in on fumes? It’s a miracle he got in the freakin’ garage!

Jack sighs, putting his head in his hands. He has no choice. He has to go looking for someone.

Mr. Reeder’s house is a solid five miles away from anyone and anything, Jack knows. Mr. Reeder has made it very clear over the years that no one would ever hear his screaming, and no one would ever know where he is.

He had no idea that he would somehow be even more alone only a couple years later.

The only car Jack ever heard coming down the road was Mr. Reeder’s own. No one passed or drove through, so he is most likely going to have to make the whole five mile hike to get help.

He looks doubtfully down at himself. A roughly twenty year old man wearing dirty sweatpants and a shirt with holes torn along the hem, not to mention the blood stains. No shoes. A detrimental limp, only eight fingers, one and a half ears, scars galore … He’s certainly a sight to behold.

At least no one will doubt his legitimacy. But it is going to be a, for lack of a better word, sucky walk.

His heart aches a bit as he thinks that a five mile walk would’ve been no issue for him before. 

“Knock it off,” he says aloud. “That doesn’t help anything.”

First, Jack needs shoes. Looking near the front door he sees a small collection of shoes, old and dirt covered. He picks out a pair of brown New Balances that surely used to be white and slips them on. No socks and shoes a size too big will leave him wicked blisters but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. 

It’s hot in the house, and Jack assumes it is outside too, but he takes a jacket hanging from a hook anyway. It feels the tiniest bit blasphemous in a way to wear the clothes of a dead man. But what’s he gonna do? He’s dead and he sucked when he was alive.

Lastly, he finds a water bottle in the kitchen and fills it—twice because he drank all of it in one go the first time.

Jack is psyching himself up for the walk when he realizes he left something downstairs in the basement. In his cell. He groans, making his way to the staircase. The lights are still on, illuminating the plain wooden boards. It doesn’t feel right. It’s such a nightmare of a place, it should be shrouded in darkness like in a horror movie. It looks like a normal unfinished basement from the top of the stairs.

“The sooner you go the sooner you can leave forever. Just go.” So with one hand tightly wrapped around the banister, Jack descends back into hell.

It’s jarring, how different the basement is from what a regular person would expect. The raw wood of the last step is stained brown and burgundy from Jack’s own blood. Hooks hang from the ceiling with chains, ropes are wrapped around a dining table chair. A collection of freak stuff like handcuffs, whips, and stun guns are tossed on a table, dropped recklessly by Mr. Reeder after they had served their purpose. His cell is just a room in the corner with a small bathroom attached.

Jack doesn’t give the makeshift dungeon a glance, eyes trained on the floor. He beelines for the cot pushed in the corner, on which he was sitting bored out of his mind only a few minutes ago. It already feels like forever.

He reaches under the thin mattress and into a small tear he’d made. Inside, among the weird mattress stuffing, is a small piece of paper. He grips it protectively, slipping it into his jacket pocket.

He runs up the stairs faster than he cares to admit, stopping to catch his breath at the top.

Jack childishly flips the basement off one last time.

The front door is white, with brass hardware. It has no window. There are scuff marks on the bottom, and dirty finger prints on the paint near the handle. Jack takes a deep breath and notices this all again.

He knows he’s stalling. He even knows why he’s stalling. It’s like … when you’re reading a book that is breaking your heart but it still hurts to finish it and leave it in the past. Like when Jack’s dad died and all he wanted to do was leave the funeral, but when it was time to go home he couldn’t. His grandma had to basically carry him out of the cemetery, and as soon as they stepped outside Jack knew something had ended, despite how young he was. 

But that’s stupid. That’s stupid here, it’s dumb. He was tortured here. He was starved and beat and filmed and dehumanized in every way possible. What the hell would he be missing?

Stability. Knowing what each day entailed. Anonymity. When you step out that door, everyone will know. Mom will know. Strangers will know. Everyone will know your pain.

It’s petrifying, having to share your pain. Most people won’t be gentle with it.

Something compels Jack to take one last look at the living room, and a calendar on the wall catches his eye. Nothing about the photograph of the beautiful landscape in a foreign country. It’s the date that makes Jack finally turn the handle. 

Orange light washes over him. He closes his eyes and turns his head up to the rays. It soaks into his skin, warming a part of him that had long gone cold. It’s invigorating, life giving. Jack has never felt anything like it before.

It’s been six years since he’s seen the sun.

—

Five miles is really freakin’ long when you’re severely malnourished and have a bum leg, Jack figures out pretty quickly. He frequently needs to stop and breathe, leaning against trees lining the long road away from Mr. Reeder’s.

Every sound has him looking down the road, ready to flag down a car and ask to be taken to the police station.

What was he even going to say?

Hi, I don’t know if you know me but I’m Jack Thatcher, I was kidnapped a whopping six years ago and held by a lunatic in his basement and tortured—he’d probably leave that part out—can I borrow your phone to call my mom?

The more he thinks about it the more he’s embarrassed to admit to someone he was kidnapped. No one else he knows was kidnapped. He wasn’t even good enough to be held for ransom, just sold off like cattle.

Jack stops in the road and takes another drink, holding the rapidly warming water bottle to his brow. The sun is beating on Jack in a way he didn’t expect, since it seems to be sunset. It’s not getting any cooler though. It’s been hot this whole time. Mr. Reeder’s basement was always relatively cold, the chill seeping deep into his bones in what he assumed were the winter months, making him shake til his limbs hurt.

Walking in the shade of the trees would probably be a better idea, but Jack needs to stay on the road where cars will see him.

 It is enticing though, the idea of shade. He’s entirely unused to this type of heat. The last time would have been—well just about six years ago…

[irguardian]

Young Journalist enrollment grows 47%, adds GYAC, mentors and receives grant

news release The Young Journalist (TYJ) begins its fifth year with a 47% increase in enrollment over last year from the same number of sites.  114 students are enrolled, which does not include 87 students mentored during three 2023 summer camps. TYJ began in 2018 at one elementary school with six students.  The program is an after-school program now offered at 11 Indian River County elementary…

[moontheoretist]

Iron Man sends James another soft, sad look, squeezing his shoulder, before he leaves the room, climbing up the stairs so that he can take some rest. “So, what’s wrong with him?” Tony asks, bluntly, without mincing words. James makes a face. “Shit happened,” he says vaguely. “Wow, that really explains things,” Tony says, sarcastically. “Why don’t you try again?” “Fine,” James says, coldly. He drags his hand over his face. “Registration, I suppose.” “What’s Registration?” “You don’t have Registration in your universe?” James clarifies. Tony shakes his head. “The Superhuman Registration Act, or SHRA for short,” James explains. “There was an explosion in Stamford, Connecticut, which caused the deaths of six hundred people, including sixty children at the nearby elementary school. The explosion was caused by a supervillain named Nitro, and some untrained kids with powers caused the attack to escalate. So, in response, Congress decided to pass the Superhuman Registration Act, which required the mandatory registration of super-powered individuals with the government, which meant that they could no longer have secret identities. Basically, it allowed the government to monitor all super-powered people, and the powered person had to, uh, pass some tests, jump through some hoops, before they were allowed to fully use their abilities and gain legal authorisation to continue to use their abilities to fight crime. Basically, Congress wanted to build their own army of enhanced people. Suffice to say, people disagreed with it.” “I have a feeling like I know where you’re going with this,” Tony says, wearily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Steve was on one side, Tony was on the other, and it became an all-out brawl,” James tells him, solemnly. “For fuck’s sake,” Tony hisses, stomping his foot against the ground. “I’m guessing by your reaction that something similar happened in your world?” James lifts an eyebrow. Tony and Bucky exchange a look. Harley doesn’t wait for the adults to seize the line. “Yeah, there was this thing called the Sokovia Accords.” “Sokovia?” James asks, confused. “Yeah, there was this fight between the Avengers and Ultron that levelled Sokovia,” Harley explains. “Ultron,” James says, sceptically. “You mean that creepy robot that Hank Pym made.” “Hank Pym made Ultron in this universe?” Tony chokes. “Who the hell is Hank Pym?” Harley asks, flatly. “You don’t know him in our universe; he’s a crabby old has-been,” Tony says, dismissively. “That’s mean,” Peter scolds. “Yeah, well, you’ve never met Hank Pym; he’s said worse shit to me,” Tony mutters under his breath. “But yeah, the city like died during the battle, so, in response, the UN tried to establish a panel to control where the Avengers would go and not go, because they… kind of had a bit of terrible luck with, you know, trashing the cities that they were trying to save,” Harley says, grimacing. “And you know, after what happened with Maximoff and Lagos, the public was scared, so the UN and 114 countries decided that the Sokovia Accords were the best way forward.” “What did they mean for enhanced people?” James asks, curiously. “If you signed, you were beholden to the UN panel. If you didn’t, you retired.” “And secret identities?” “I signed,” Peter chimes in. “Tony negotiated a deal for me so that I didn’t need to disclose my identity.” “That was possible?” James asks, his mouth twisting up at the corners. “I wish someone had told our Tony that.” He shakes his head. “Yours sounds like a better deal than we got.” “Yeah, well, the United States government is a fucked-up institution,” Tony points out. “Anyone could have told you that. So, this brawl…” he hesitates for an agonising moment. “Wow, I kind of don’t want to know what happened,” he says, wistfully. James’ jaw clenches. “It ended up with Steve almost killing Tony in the middle of the street with everyone watching, superheroes, civilians, everyone.” Tony pales in a rush. “Wow,” he says, licking his lower lip. “Shit.” “And then, Steve realised what he was about to do, and he stopped,” James says, softly. “Actually, he had to be dragged off by first responders.” Tony looks away, the memory of Siberia getting him right in the lungs. “He was finally able to see what he’d done. So, he surrendered. They arrested him. And then, when it came to his hearing, he was shot down on the court steps.”

neither of us dares to bleed by deathsweetqueen

Basically the difference between MCU Sokovia Accords and 616 Super Human Registration Act. SHRA was a piece of legislation introduced by USA government in order to oppress and control enhanced people in the USA. Accords were an international treaty that was supposed to regulate the international activities and dispatching of superheroes. Accords were non-applicable to people who had superpowers but weren’t active heroes. Most of the regulations of the Accords are UNKNOWN because the movie didn’t deign to explain any of it, and most of the clauses on MCU wikia that are sourced as given in CW were actually not given at all in that movie and were the misinterpretation of the movie scenes by the person who wrote the wikia article (like the clause about no trial was a misinterpretation in regard to RAFT - RAFT being inhumane prison that breaks human rights in the USA is not indicative of the actual regulations of the Accords, but is very much indicative of how much fucked up the USA is as a country to do this). Some clauses were disclosed in canon MCU shows like WandaVision in direct quotation, but most are unknown. Agents of SHIELD is not considered MCU canon, therefore any Accords clause mentioned there is non-canon.

[spicykaraage]

Tenipuri Complete Character Profile - Kintarou Tooyama

[PROFILE]

Birthday: April 1st (Aries)

Blood Type: B

Relatives: Father, mother, dog (Kinjirou), five puppies

Father’s Occupation: Post office clerk

Elementary School: Dotonbori First Elementary School

Middle School: Shitenhoji Junior High School

Grade & Class: First Year | Class 1-4 | Seat 20

Club: Tennis Club (regular)

Committee: Sports Festival Committee

Strong Subjects: PE

Weak Subjects: Japanese, math, science, social studies, English

Most Visited Spot at School: Gym

World Cup Team: U-17 World Cup Japanese Representatives

Favorite Motto: “You hit me, and I’ll hit you back!”

Daily Routines: Eating a lot

Hobbies: Reading manga, talking to cool people [23.5]

Favorite Color: Gold, orange, green

Favorite Music: Festival ondo music

Favorite Movie: Super Sentai films

Favorite Book: COOL by Takeshi Konomi ➜ Headbutt!! Yokohama Ouka High School XXxX Club by Takeshi Konomi

Favorite Food: Takoyaki ➜ “The food in Australia’s good, but takoyaki’s still the best!” [23.5]

Favorite Anniversary: The day “Takogoro” (a takoyaki restaurant) has their special sale

Preferred Type: A cool guy

Ideal Date Spot: “What’s a date?” ➜ “Let’s go eat something tasty!” [23.5]

His Gift for a Special Person: “I’ll get you the flowers that were growing on that cliff!”

Where He Wants to Travel: Meeting the martians on Mars

What He Wants Most Right Now: “Takoyaki for a hundred people!” ➜ “Takoyaki for a thousand people!!” [23.5]

Dislikes: Studying, English pronunciation [23.5]

Skills Outside of Tennis: Eating quickly, mimicking the (red) heroes from Super Sentai [23.5]

Spends Allowance On: Buying and immediately eating takoyaki

Routine During the World Cup: Eating a lot, looking for Ryoma

[DATA]

Height: 151cm | 4’11” ➜ 153cm | 5’0” [23.5]

Weight: 52kg | 114 lbs ➜ 53kg | 116 lbs [23.5]

Shoe Size: 26cm

Dominant Arm: Right

Vision: 3.6 Left & Right

Play Style: All-Rounder

Signature Moves: Super Ultra Great Delicious Mountain Storm, Super Megaton Deluxe Volcano Serve, Pinnacle of Perfection [23.5]

Equipment Brands:

Racket: His treasured wooden racket

Shoes: addidas (ADIBARRICADE 3)

Overall Rating: Speed: 4 / Power: 5 / Stamina: 5 / Mental: 4 / Technique: 4 / Total: 22

Kurobe Memo: “He may be a little rough around the edges, but there aren’t many players with such a strong potential like he has. There might come a day when he can overcome skill with his intuition and power alone.” <Official Description>

[POSSESSIONS]

What’s in His Bag [40.5]:

Tennis balls: He took them from the clubroom without permission, he keeps them with him so he can practice anytime he wants. He holds onto them even when he sleeps

A bag with 1000-yen and a phone number sewn onto it: His mother sewed the money and number on for him since he gets lost easily. It had been left behind when he was traveling to the national tournament, however

COOL by Takeshi Konomi: A manga about a rental bodyguard. He uses its phrases and no longer doubts Shiraishi’s hand is poisonous because of it…

What’s in His Travel Bag [23.5]:

Money sewn into the bag: His mother had sewn Australian dollars on for the trip, but he misplaced his bag

[torillatavataan]

Read full article by Yle

On the day the conflict started Finland had approximately 300,000 men under arms to defend the whole of the country. It was woefully short of supplies, with only enough cartridges, shells, and fuel to last about two months.

Finland had a mere 32 tanks, only 10 of which were fit for combat when the war started, and 114 mostly obsolescent combat aircraft that could enter the fight. The Soviets had secretly built roads leading to the border, allowing them to deploy their 2,514 tanks and 718 armoured cars. Even so, what Soviet military planners thought would be a swift advance on the first day made little headway in the face of fierce resistance at the border.

The main Soviet attack began at 6:50am on 30 November with an artillery barrage on the Karelian Isthmus, followed by an all-out attack by land, sea and air.

Soviet bombers carried out the first attack on targets in Helsinki. At 9:20am, five minutes after the first air raid sirens where heard in the Finnish capital, a formation of three Soviet SB-2 bombers appeared over Helsinki headed for an attack on Malmi airfield on the city's outskirts. The first bombs fell near an elementary school. Because of cloudy conditions, the planes failed to find their target, instead unloading their bombs in residential parts.

A third wave hit the city between 3pm and 4:20pm. A second wave of 12 bombers came at 10:35am. Along with renewed bomber attacks the next day, these were the most devastating, in terms of life lost, of the entire Winter War. Altogether, 91 people were killed and 36 seriously wounded.

In a 1930's case of "fake news", Soviet state radio claimed Finnish reports of the air raids were false and that the Soviet Air Force had merely been dropping bread to the starving masses of Helsinki.

The Winter War did not take place in a political and military vacuum, but rather was linked to Soviet expansionism and power plays for dominance in central Europe.

In the late 1930's Soviet leaders launched a policy aimed at regaining parts of the Russian Empire lost after the October Revolution. Finland was also seen as a threat. Moscow was worried that Finnish territory could be used to invade the USSR or to block sea routes in the eastern Baltic. Leningrad (present-day St. Petersburg), only 32 km from the Finnish border, was considered particularly exposed.

In August of 1939, the Soviet Union signed a non-aggression treaty with Nazi Germany, known as the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. It included a secret protocol in which Eastern European countries were divided into spheres of influence. Finland fell into the Soviet sphere, in effect guaranteeing the USSR a free hand to take military action.

In early October, Moscow demanded that the border with Finland on the Karelian Isthmus be moved westward and Finnish fortifications on the isthmus be destroyed. Demands were also made for some Finnish islands in the Gulf of Finland, territory on the Barents Sea, and a 30-year lease of the southernmost Hanko Peninsula, around 120 km west of Helsinki, for use as a military base. In exchange, the Soviet Union offered Finland areas in Eastern Karelia.

The Finnish government rejected Soviet demands and made a counter-offer that did not satisfy Moscow.

Joseph Stalin and his generals expected Finnish defences to be overwhelmed and for Finland to capitulate within a matter of weeks. Instead, for close to four months, the Soviet Union had to commit over three-quarters of a million men and vast amounts of its superior armour and air power to battle before the Finnish nation was too exhausted to fight on.

A peace treaty was signed on 12 March, 1940. Finland lost 11 percent of its territory and 30 percent of its pre-war economic assets. The USSR got a 30-year lease to use the Hanko peninsula as a military base, but Finland retained its independence.

Over 420,000 Karelians, 12 percent of the nation's population, were evacuated from the ceded territories.

By late June 1941, Finland was again at war with the Soviet Union, this time as a co-belligerent of Germany. After more than three years of fighting, Finland sued for peace in late August 1944. Under the terms of an armistice signed in Moscow, Finland was obligated to drive out the more than 200,000 German soldiers.

Read full article by Yle