#bear roar sound effect cartoon

[nba24highlights]

SHAQ BREAKING BACKBOARDS! 2023 #shaq #breakingbackboards #nba24highlights #shaqtinafool

#shaq#shaquilleoneal#nba#breakingbackboards #shatteredbackboard#dunk#dunks#breakbackboards#powerdunk#nba24highlights#viral#s

[crazymuff1n]

Cartoon Spider-Man has the ability to pull off the funniest mysterio defeat by just going "boooo you're using stock sounds!! You really think I'm going to believe this bald eagle is real when you're using the stock sound for a red tailed hawk? Honestly have you no dignity? Not to mention the monster sounds. Let me guess, bear roar #2 jaguar roar, and a guy grunting in to metal tube? Well I'll give you some credit for the last one"

*cuts to live action where the foley artist is doing sound effects*. "Thank you spidey"

[dearlazerbunny]

Let it Go (Ch. 1 of ?)

Pairings: platonic avengers team x reader, potential background loki x reader

Words: 1800

Genre/Ratings: -WARNINGS- there will be an (unsuccessful) suicide attempt by reader- chapter will be explicitly marked in advance. Drug (pills) and alcohol abuse, lots of negativity and self loathing. There will be an arc, but said arc is going to start in the eleventh circle of hell and inch up from there.

Summary: *not far enough into this one to give an accurate summary, so this’ll have to be updated eventually. enjoy for now!*

If I see another ad for Frozen, I might go homicidal.

I pass at least five of them as I work through rush-hour Manhattan at a snail’s pace. Smash Hit! Instant Classic! #1 Movie in the World! Awesome. Fantastic. Happy for you, Disney. Now please, dear god, get it the fuck out of my face.

I jerk away from narrowly shoulder-checking a businessman hustling down the sidewalk, speaking rapid-fire into the phone glued to his ear. It’s like a very, very fucked up dream; everyone in the world is in on the joke, and I just didn’t get the invite. Maybe they were spying on me. Sure, it could’ve been inspired by a fairytale, but who knows? I could sue. Demand fifty percent of the profits for copyright infringement. That’d be more than enough to set me up with a cabin in Alaska, somewhere all I’d have to worry about is making friends with the polar bears.

On the subway, I notice someone has Let it Go blaring from their earbuds. No less than three little girls are wearing something blue and covered in glitter. One has a cheap blonde plait clipped into her hair, accented by a snowflake charm dangling from the end. I suppress the urge to rip it off her head.

It isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, I want to say. It’s not Disney-dreamy like the mouse has made it out to be, living in a palace and making magical snowmen and singing power ballads about self-acceptance and overcoming your demons. In the real world, you quell those demons with a fistful of benzodiazepines, because if you don’t, something like a car alarm or a slammed door will make spikes of ice splinter through the floor around you. It’s constantly wearing three hoodies at a time, so that way if a stranger on the seat next to you brushes your arm, they don’t immediately get third-degree frostbite. It’s getting a papercut and watching the blood freeze on the tip of your finger, then melt back to liquid when you break it off and toss it away. It’s getting hospitalized when an inner-city charity doctor takes your temperature before you can object and your body temperature is barely higher than freezing, so they pump you full of warm saline and cover you in foil blankets and all that heat makes you sick, so you have to rip the IV out of your arm and walk yourself back to your apartment in your hospital gown while dodging orderlies and strange looks from passerby at 2 AM.

The kid and her parents get off at the next stop. The subway clicks along. I try to make myself smaller as the car fills up with more people.  

Maybe if they’d had Xanax in Arendelle, Elsa wouldn’t have had to deal with all that “conceal, don’t feel” bullshit. She wouldn’t be able to feel anything with all the pills and booze she’d be mainlining. Take it from me, babe, it’s a lot easier to drug those demons away. Much more effective than a song.

Something in me feels a weird flare of pride for handling this… whatever the hell it is better than a fictional cartoon princess. Then I want to laugh, because goddamn, my life is pathetic.

My meeting spot is in a back alley near Bryant Park. Some NYU kid is pawning his Klonopin for party cash, I guess. I think if you’re rich enough to be a frat boy at NYU you probably don’t need the extra fifty from your prescriptions, but whatever. I don’t have a ton of other avenues at this point.

I scan the neon bottle, then shake it open and count the pills inside. “These are only a half milligram? Fifteen.”

“Dude, we said forty.”

“Yeah, for a milligram pill. These will barely last me a week.”

“Twenty.”

“Fine.”

I don’t think the universe agrees with my choices.

The sky splits open with a shriek that balances the world on the edge of a knife. One heartbeat. Two. He and I both look up at the clear blue, unsure. Between the skyline, I see something- somethings- begin pouring from a split in the universe, ugly and black and hungry.

I wrench the bottle from the kid’s hands and run.

Run, run, run, don’t look up, don’t look back, oh jesus what the FUCK IS THIS- Midtown is a nightmare. Not from Friday traffic this time. People are scrambling, screaming and crying, trying to flee the scene. An entire side of a building gets shaved off and falls to the ground like an iceberg. A gas line broke somewhere because everything is hazy with fumes and starts shimmering rainbow colors. I round a corner, cursing and trying to keep my ratty converse on my feet as I dodge rubble and ash- don’t look up don’t look up don’t look up. I can see my breath starting to crystallize around me as my anxiety spikes, and I try to force it down. Don’t think about it. Now is so not the time for that.

In the middle of the street, six brightly clad superheroes stand with grim but determined looks on their faces. There’s Tony Stark in his mechanical suit, Captain America brandishing his shield. The star stands out like a beacon in the smoke. Cool, coolcoolcool, they’ve got this, right? They’ve totally got this. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to befineohholyshitthat’sabigalien-

I try to use an overturned car as cover. Dart to one, breathe, press my back to steel and try to shake my body back from shock, wait for a moment of silence between the chaos- run to the next pile of rubble. My footprints are outlined in frost on the cracked pavement, clean white against the ash raining from the sky. As I slam myself up against another car, heaving, I have a prime few of Captain-freaking-America bashing three ugly aliens in the face with his shield, battering them to the ground. He stops for a moment to flex his fingers, wipe some of the grime from his face.

He doesn’t see the alien rushing him from behind, mouth open and yawning in some sort of hideous grin, poised to shove a glowing blue gun against the Captain’s muscly back.

I don’t think. My feet move without my telling them to. I can taste the ash as I dart to the middle of the street, as close as I dare. The air around me is impossibly frigid. I’m not controlling anything at this point, but I can deal with that later. Hopefully.

“DUCK!” I scream as loud as I possibly can over the sound of metal and roaring monsters.

His eyes snap up to meet mine. He heard me, somehow, and then he actually heeds a random girl standing amidst the carnage and hits the deck so fast I can hear the whiplash. It’s hot enough to make my skin boil, but if I stretch my hand out and pull, I can feel something begin to crystallize in my waiting palm-

Fissures crack open in the concrete beneath me. In my hand, a thin lance of ice extends to a deadly point, too weighty for its slim frame, and while I should have all the grace and skill of an alcoholic drug addict, my aim is good enough that the alien now has an unforgiving pole of ice sticking through its breastbone. Frost creeps from the hole in its chest, discoloring its sickly black armor to a grey tint. For a moment, it's suspended in time, unmoving- then gravity takes hold and with one last nightmarish shriek it crumples to the ground in a heap.

Huh. Whaddya know. I flex my fingers, breathing hard. Take that, Elsa. Screw the power of love, I just single-handedly saved a national icon.

Said icon is picking himself up off the ground, a new layer of dust coating the front of his uniform. He looks behind him, at the ugly corpse and the ice that inexplicably hasn’t started to melt in the city’s heat. Then his eyes are on me, hard and curious.

Oh. Fuck.

Instinctively, I pull my hood up further over my head, hopefully obscuring more of my face than before. What did he see? Could he memorize my face? He knows I’m a freak show, that’s for sure. Fuck. My brain kicks in and I run, skidding over broken pavement and letting the sheer terror of a crumbling New York fuel my steps. Either we’ll all be dead by the end of this, or the strange girl with ice coming from her hands will be little more than a hazy memory after all this is said and done. I hope. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it- cold prickles on the back of my neck and pushes me back towards being just another face in the crowd.

  There are over a dozen police blockades to try and control the battlefield, and between them and the rubble raining from the heavens, it takes me what feels like hours to crawl back to my underside of the city. It’s punctuated by the grinding of metal and shattering of glass and sickening cracks of lightning from Midtown, making me flinch and wring my hands deep into my sweatshirts to keep them busy with something other than frosting the ground over. Don’t think about it.

I shove my shoulder into the door, forcing it open, then close it the same way from the opposite side. I flick the locks closed, secure the ball and chains. Each one is encased in frost by the time I’m done, and the doorjamb is clogged with ice. I’m suddenly irrationally thankful that there’s only one window in the apartment. It’s a stupid comfort- those things were leveling skyscrapers, a ratty building like this would be flattened in an instant-

I wrench open the nearest drawer, sending the contents rolling. Bottles clack against each other; pills rattling against the plastic. It’s the most comforting thing I’ve heard all day. I pull one out at random, pop the lid, down it dry. In the back of my mind, the large green monster roars. I shudder and swallow another, this time chasing it with swigs from the obscenely large bottle of booze on the desk. It burns all the way down in the best way, chasing the little orange tablets and promising the sweet release of nothing.  

That should last a day. Maybe more. I fall into the bed, already feeling the combo tug at my system, making me heavy and slow. Maybe Manhattan will still be standing when I wake up. Or better yet, Manhattan will still be standing, but I won’t. I’ve never been that lucky, but it never hurts to hope.

[aqua-murphys-law]

when it rains

Rating: K+ Warnings: panic attacks, breakdowns, self-depreciating thoughts Summary:

i’m only honest when it rains if i time it right, the thunder breaks when i open my mouth i wanna tell you but i don’t know how

~*~

With a life like Milo’s, it’s only a matter of time before he can’t just grin and bear it anymore. Some times are less convenient than others.

A/N: This started out as a purely self-indulgent “let Milo get angry and upset” whump fic, but hooooo boy there’s a lot to unpack now. My headcanons just will not give me a break. But hey, y’all get a +6k word fic out of the deal, so enjoy!

Check replies for a link to read on A03 for full tags, cause Tumblr hates links apparently! - Aqua

~*~

Of all the ways Milo Murphy has traveled to school, clinging to the top of a runaway ice cream stand that’s surfing a massive wave of pistachios is certainly one of the more palatable ones.

Hah, palatable- he almost makes the joke out loud, but between Zack’s screaming and Melissa’s shrieking laughter and the roar of wind and veering traffic in their ears, they probably won’t hear him. He files that pun away for later and turns his focus to their inevitable stopping; there’s a fountain up ahead that’s about the right height.

Adjusting his grip, Milo climbs over to the side of the stand, throwing its weight to the left. That changes its trajectory just enough to crash right into the fountain, tipping them and all the stand’s contents over into the small ocean of pistachios below. It’s like falling into a ball pit- if the balls in ball pits were tiny green nuts with miscellaneous ice cream sundae ingredients scattered about. Either way, it’s a soft enough landing, and the momentum carries them further down the road before the ground flattens out and they finally roll to a stop.

As fate would have it, the tidal wave of debris has carried them right to the school crosswalk, minutes before first bell. There’s a small group of their classmates waiting to cross, gaping at the wreckage. Milo picks himself out of the mess and dusts his knees off before helping Zack to his feet.

“Watch out for the banana peels,” Milo cautions. “They’re just as slippery in real life as they are in cartoons.”

Zack catches his breath. “Dude, that was kinda awesome.”

Milo’s heart swells happily, and he grins. “I’d say that’s one of our most palatable adventures yet.”

Zack’s eyes light up as he catches on, nudging Milo with his elbow. “It sherbet was!”

“No puns this early in the morning,” Melissa groans, picking pistachios out of her hair.

Milo digs a brush out of his backpack and hands it to her. “Sorry, Melissa,” he says good-naturedly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Zack says, “we know you don’t… cone-done that behavior.”

Milo hides a laugh behind his hand while Melissa lightly punches Zack’s arm before continuing to brush out the pistachios. Then he takes a second to look over the damage again, double-checking no one got caught in the crossfire. It’s a good thing the stand hadn’t been open yet when that freighter full of pistachios exploded-

“Stop! Milo.”

Milo looks over at the familiar voice, smiling. “Hi, Elliot.”

As always, the crossing guard is brandishing his stop sign at them. His attention seems to be split between staring at Milo and staring at the heap of food in the street.

Melissa rolls her eyes. “We’re already stopped,” she points out, passing the brush back to Milo. “You know, just a group of middle school kids, waiting for the crossing guard to help them cross the street?”

“Yeah,” Zack adds, “your job?”

Elliot makes a disbelieving sound. “What, the giant mountain of walnuts hasn’t stopped traffic enough as it is?”

“Actually, they’re pistachios,” Milo says helpfully, tucking the brush away. “And sure, but it’s really best to wait for authorized personnel to formally halt the flow of traffic using proper signage instead of taking your chances.”

“I know that!” Elliot protests, sounding irritable. He holds the stop sign out, gesturing with his other hand for them all to cross. “Alright, move it along, people…”

Milo is happy to do so, leaving Elliot’s grumbling behind. It’s always a good morning when he actually makes it to school, and on time. Walking beside him, Melissa’s already whipped her phone out to share the pictures she took during all the excitement, snickering at the way Zack’s eyes widen. Milo chuckles to himself; how she manages to get such incredible shots, he’ll never know.

They reach the sidewalk on the other side without incident. He can hear the echoes of sirens from responding emergency vehicles starting up across town and knows they’ll be at the scene in a couple minutes. That makes him feel better about heading inside before they arrive, though he laments the fact that he won’t get to thank them personally-

“You know, Murphy, these catastrophes would be a lot more bearable if you took them seriously.”

Milo pauses, tilting his head. Melissa and Zack are already frowning at Elliot, but he wants to make sure he’s accurately identified the disdain in Elliot’s voice and isn’t just missing sarcasm again.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Elliot folds his arms with a huff, his stop sign sticking out at an angle. “I mean, you walk around with that grin on your face, brushing everything off like it’s no big deal.” He scowls at Milo over his glasses. “Do you even care about all the chaos you leave in your wake?”

Milo blinks, his smile faltering. Is that the impression people get from him?

Zack steps forward. “Hey man, back off,” he snaps at Elliot.

“Yeah,” Melissa chimes in, folding her arms, “you’re just bitter because people keep assuming you’re in your thirties.” She jerks her chin over at the doors. “Come on, Milo.”

Milo manages to smile again, but it feels strained. “Elliot, I can assure you that I understand the severity of Murphy’s Law,” he says carefully, moving to follow Melissa up the rest of the stairs.

“Well, you certainly don’t act like it,” Elliot gripes after them, a parting jab.

Milo should let it go, he knows he should. This is just how Elliot is; there’s no way somebody so pathologically obsessed with safety would ever see Milo as anything more than a hazard. But this is more than simply placing blame on him for Murphy’s Law. That, he’s used to. He can handle that.

What he can’t stand for is the implication that he doesn’t care when people get hurt. Not when he works so hard to avoid it- often at the expense of his own wellbeing. If he only worried about himself, Murphy’s Law would be exponentially easier to deal with. Most people don’t realize that.

He stops walking, turning to look Elliot dead in the eye. “What’s the alternative?” he asks, his face blank and voice held carefully neutral.

Elliot’s clearly surprised at the question. He hesitates, shooting a wary look at Melissa and Zack, before he manages a shrug. “I don’t know, just some indication that you’re actually sorry for everything going wrong all the time?”

Milo’s grip on his backpack goes white-knuckled. “You think I should feel sorry?” he asks quietly.

Elliot flounders for a second. “I, uh… well, yes?”

It’s one thing for Milo to impulsively feel responsible for any destruction caused by Murphy’s Law, before he can remind himself that it’s not his fault. But it’s another thing entirely for someone to tell him that he should feel that way, all the time.

“What would you like me to do?” he presses. “Walk around with my head hung low, overcome with guilt every time Murphy’s Law happens? Apologize constantly when the majority of the people in my life have been dealing with it for years? Or- or beat myself up over something I can’t change or control?”

Elliot’s eyes widen, his brows shooting up to his hairline. “Now listen, that’s not exactly what I said-”

“But it’s what you meant, right?” Milo asks in a voice he doesn’t recognize. It’s white-hot with anger, and he can feel the glare that’s drawing his eyebrows down into a point, the way it’s narrowing his eyes. It’s an unfamiliar expression.

Oh, this is dangerous territory. Anger isn’t safe; it clouds the mind and fosters rash decisions, preventing one from thinking clearly. He can’t afford to have his judgement skewed, his reaction time hampered by the distraction of wrestling emotions under control. Not here, when there’s so many people around who could get hurt by his inability to act if something were to happen.

Melissa tugs Milo by the arm, trying to pull him away. “Milo, come on, he’s not worth it,” she says, her voice low and urgent.

The concern in her voice pricks at him. He’s aware, to some degree, that they’ve attracted an audience; the other kids that crossed with them are lingering, whispering to each other. He’s aware that his heart is starting to race and his skin feels flushed, the unpleasant physical effects of anger. And he’s especially aware of Zack’s gaze on him, what he must be thinking of the whole situation.

But Milo abruptly finds that he doesn’t care. Maybe that should concern him, too.

Elliot holds up his hands, something akin to panic flashing across his face. “Hey, look, I didn’t-”

“If I let myself feel bad every time Murphy’s Law happened, I’d never stop,” Milo says sharply. “Do you realize that? You’re only exposed to Murphy’s Law in the brief moments I’m around you. But for me, it never ends. It doesn’t have a weekly schedule, it doesn’t take days off. It doesn’t even stop when I’m asleep. And I will be dealing with it for the rest of my life.”

A horrible silence follows, even Elliot seeming lost for words.

Chills erupt across Milo’s skin. The fiery anger inside him suddenly extinguishes, leaving him cold and hollow. He’s struck with the realization that in his lashing out, he’s only just upset himself more. Because he doesn’t like to think about the future, about how everything he’s experienced so far in his short life is just the tip of the iceberg, and there he goes, now he’s thinking about it-

Something wet runs down his cheek.

Instinctively, Milo looks up to find the source. But there aren’t any clouds in the sky threatening a sudden downpour, no leaky pipes or anything else to drip water on him. Brows knitting in confusion, he absently reaches a hand up to his face.

Then his eyes start to sting as his vision blurs, and it hits him.

He’s crying.

… he’s crying?

A sound gets choked in his throat, something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper. Horror sweeps through him but it’s rapidly being outdone by the overwhelming hysteria.

Oh no. No, no, no, he can’t be crying, not here. He stumbles away from Elliot, his backpack hitting the stair railing with a soft thud, and presses the heels of his palms against his burning eyes. Stop, stop, stop! Colors bloom behind his closed lids, intensifying as he increases the pressure until it’s almost painful, desperately willing the tears to go away.

He’s not supposed to be crying at school. If there’s anything more distracting than anger, it’s crying. There are too many people around him, something could go wrong at any second and he won’t be able to protect them like this- something could be going wrong right now and he won’t notice because he’s too busy falling to pieces.

Panic kicks in, and the harsh echo in his ears tells him he’s hyperventilating. That’s definitely not helping, but the part of him that realizes this is remarkably absent, like he’s become disconnected from his own body.

The rest of him is pretty sure he’s about to die. And not in the way he’s familiar with.

Two hands circle his wrists, pulling them down from his eyes in a grip that’s gentle yet firm. Melissa’s face swims into focus.

~*~

Melissa searches Milo’s face, her heart sinking.

“Milo?” she tries. “You okay?”

Milo doesn’t respond, but he squeezes his eyes shut, sending a few more tears streaking down his face. She can feel his pulse jumping under the scarred skin of his wrists. His heartbeat, normally so steady, is running fast and erratic.

Something is very wrong.

“Woah, uh, is he okay?” Elliot asks, alarmed.

“You don’t get to talk,” Melissa hisses at him before turning back to Milo. It’s incredibly hard to push her anger down, but she has to, for his sake. “Milo,” she says, softer, “it’s me. You’re alright. We’re gonna go somewhere else, okay?”

Milo still doesn’t respond, but he curls a little closer to her. Melissa takes a second to shoot a warning look at the other kids gathered around. “Give us some space,” she orders them. And then, “Zack, you’re with me.”

They must hear the barely restrained fury in her voice, because the doors are cleared in record time. Zack unfreezes and swiftly places himself on the other side of Milo, his hands fidgeting like he isn’t sure what to do with them.

Gently, Melissa starts leading Milo up the stairs, into the school. Thankfully, he follows. He seems to be in a daze, too focused on his internal panic to take notice of what’s going on around him. Melissa is suddenly very grateful that she and Zack are here, because if Milo were alone in such a state, he wouldn’t be able to protect himself from any Murphy’s Law incidents.

Speaking of Zack, the other boy has moved slightly in front of them, paving a way through the various students still lingering in the halls before class.

“Where to?” he asks over his shoulder, voice tight with worry.

“Somewhere quiet and out of the way.”

“Under the stairwell?”

Melissa follows Zack’s gaze to the stairwell before nodding swiftly. They make a beeline for it, swerving only to avoid a ceiling tile that drops out of its frame above them. She catches the edge of it with her shoe and sends it skidding along the floor, out of the way. Serves it right.

She ducks under the stairwell, careful to pull Milo down after her so he doesn’t hit his head. The little alcove is a bit dusty, but it’s quiet and away from prying eyes, so it’ll do. She shrugs her backpack off and sits against the wall, taking Milo’s weight.

He leans on her heavily, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself upright. She’s tempted to slip off his backpack as well, since that’s probably accounting for a third of his weight right now, but she knows that would only make him panic further.

He’s still breathing way too fast for her liking, blinking rapidly to try and fight back tears. The glassy look in his eyes is so unlike him, it makes her heart clench painfully.

Zack’s voice hovers anxiously somewhere above her. “Has this happened before?”

“Not in public,” Melissa answers shortly. Then she swallows hard and forces her voice to come out calm and gentle. “Hey Milo, you with me?”

It takes a second for Milo to find her eyes, trembling all the while.

Melissa holds his gaze, pouring as much reassurance into it as she can. “Good, that’s good. Zack’s here with us. Is that alright?”

Milo doesn’t look over at Zack, but he manages a nod.

“Okay,” Melissa murmurs. She takes a quick look to make sure no one’s wandering by the stairwell before turning back to Milo. “We’re alone now, just us three. We’re safe.” She takes a deep breath. “Go ahead.”

Milo’s face crumples. “Melissa-”

He finally breaks, burying his face in her shoulder. His sobs are partially muffled by her jacket- which is quickly becoming damp- but she can feel the force of each one, the way his chest heaves for breath. He holds her arms like his life depends on it, pressing close to her as if he’s trying to hide away from the world.

Even though she’s preparing herself for it, hearing him cry brings a fresh wave of tears to her own eyes. Stubbornly, she stares up at the ceiling until they recede. She can’t break down right now. Milo needs her.

Think about something else, something funny. Like how great it’s going to feel to get Elliot back for this. There’s a petting zoo service nearby that rents out ducks. If she places an order soon, she could probably get them before Monday. How many ducks is too many, she wonders?

“So hey, uh, what’s going on?” Zack’s low murmur brings her out of the daydream. He’s looking at Milo with a stricken expression. “Is he going to be okay?”

Melissa exhales, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “He will be,” she says softly. “He’s just overwhelmed.”

Zack runs a hand through his hair. “Is- is there anything I can do?” he asks helplessly.

There isn’t much, but she can tell just from looking at him that his anxiety is skyrocketing right now, on the verge of his own panic attack. Giving him something, anything else to focus on might help.

“Keep people off us, and watch for any trouble,” Melissa decides.

It’s strange to think that she’s only known this boy for a few months, yet she’d trust him with hers and Milo’s wellbeing. But Zack’s proven he can handle Murphy’s Law, and she knows he’ll protect them with everything he’s got.

She’s proven right when Zack’s expression hardens, and he nods. Turning around, he goes to stand at the mouth of the alcove, blocking her and Milo from view of the hallway. His hands twitch at his sides, ready to act. Just like that.

Not for the first time, Melissa is thankful that Zack became their friend. Milo chose well.

And speaking of Milo, the panic seems to have finally ebbed. Now it’s just regular crying, without the hyperventilating and shaking. The knot in her stomach loosens, but only slightly- they aren’t out of the woods yet.

Gently, she drums her fingers along his spine, beating a soothing rhythm against the body armor he wears under his clothes. The muffled thuds are too light for him to feel; it’s really just so he has a sound to focus on. She’s found that helps, in the past.

But she doesn’t try to shush him. Now that he’s actually crying, he needs to get it all out. She tries to imagine that her arms around Milo are a safety net, allowing him to be vulnerable without fear. She hopes he can pick up on it.

The next several minutes pass in relative calm- if holding your friend while he has a breakdown can be considered calm. A couple times, Melissa catches wind of something going on in the hallway, some likely improbable object coming their way. But thanks to Zack’s vigilance, nothing comes close, letting her focus all her attention on Milo.

It’s not long after second bell when Milo starts to come back to himself. His grip on her arms tightens and then immediately slackens, and the next breath he takes is a deep one, though it shudders on the exhale.

There are a couple moments where Milo is still and quiet, just the occasional sniffle as his breathing evens out. Then he pulls back enough to look at Melissa, his eyes red and teary but no longer vacant.

“Melissa?” he breathes, his voice small.

Melissa lets out a sigh of relief, managing a tired smile. “There you are.”

“Hey, buddy.” As relieved as Melissa feels, Zack sounds about a hundred times more so. He kneels down next to them, his hand once again awkwardly hovering over Milo’s shoulder before retreating. “How you feeling?”

Milo glances around, taking in their surroundings. Melissa can almost see the moment realization hits; his mouth presses into a tight line before he looks away, wiping at his eyes. “Guys, I- I am so sorry-”

“Don’t you dare,” Melissa cuts him off sternly.

Milo swallows hard, tucking his knees to his chest. “But it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my cool back there,” he mumbles guiltily. “It was just Elliot being, y- you know, Elliot, and I got-”

“Rightfully upset,” Melissa finishes for him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah, dude, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Zack agrees.

Milo’s smile is thin, but his eyes are thoughtful. Melissa hopes they’ve gotten through to him. She isn’t going to push it any more, though, not right now.

“Now, c’mon, let’s get off the floor,” she says, straightening up. “My legs are falling asleep.”

Milo accepts the hand she offers him, letting her pull him up and out from under the stairwell. He looks a little shaky on his feet, his face still paler than normal, but he jolts when he notices the clock.

“Oh no, we’re late for first period. We’d better-”

“Nuh uh.” Melissa holds fast to his arm. “After a bout like that, you need to go home and rest.”

Milo hesitates. “I miss so much school already…”

Melissa shakes her head. “Doesn’t matter. Mental health days are included under excused absences, you know. We’ll let the teachers know and grab your homework for you.”

“Seriously, it’s alright,” Zack says softly.

Milo studies them both before nodding. “Okay,” he relents. “Thanks.”

Melissa whips out her phone to text his mom. As she does so, she notices Milo is starting to lean against Zack for support. The other boy doesn’t seem to mind, his arm automatically shifting around Milo’s shoulders. It seems his earlier reservations are gone, now that Milo’s sought out the contact. It’s a cute sight.

“Alright,” Melissa tucks her phone away, “your mom’s on her way over. I asked her to meet us in the back lot, just in case the jerk-who-shall-not-be-named is still skulking around.”

Milo nods slightly, giving her a grateful smile before his gaze lowers again.

Now that he’s given up on toughing out the day, he’s starting to withdraw. He doesn’t always go nonverbal after a crying spell, but the panic attack has to have done a number on him.

They aren’t common for Milo, panic attacks. Melissa knows his stress response is… highly abnormal. Even before she met him, he’d been living in a constant state of stress for years. She’s not sure if he’s learned to tune it out, or if his body has just stopped responding to common stressors by this point. But she knows he rarely gets a physical reaction to danger, that ‘fight or flight’ response that spikes you up with adrenaline.

This is clearly a different ball game. The only time she can recall anything remotely similar to this happening was the first time she got seriously hurt by Murphy’s Law. And it didn’t even happen on the spot; he hadn’t broken down until visiting her in the hospital after the fact.

That was a long time ago, but it left quite the impression. The hyperventilating and shaking, she remembers. And that distant, glassy expression. It was something she hoped she’d never have to witness again, but of course, life has other plans.

Not that she blames Milo for it. After all, however difficult this is for her, it’s much, much worse for him. Losing control of his emotions hits him hard, because his life is already so out of control as it is. The one thing he should always have control over is himself, but he doesn’t.

And even though she’s long since made peace with the idea that life isn’t fair, this feels particularly, especially unfair. With all the danger Murphy’s Law brings, Milo shouldn’t have to deal with guilt, judgmental crossing guards, or a misplaced sense of responsibility so severe that he feels like he isn’t even allowed to cry.

Her expression must be troubled, because Milo lightly bumps against her arm. By the time she looks over, he’s already averted his gaze again- eye contact is probably a bit much for him right now- but she appreciates the gesture anyways.

‘Don’t worry,’ he seems to be saying.

Well… she can try not to, for his sake.

~*~

Zack can’t help stealing glances at Milo as they make their way down the hall.

He knows he shouldn’t be staring, because Milo doesn’t seem too keen on eye contact at the moment. It’s just hard to resist the urge to check up on him. Most of Zack’s focus was on keeping Murphy’s Law at bay, so he couldn’t really keep tabs on how the situation was going.

He can’t shake how jarring it was to see Milo like that. It’s a very good thing Melissa was there to snap him into action, because if she hadn’t, he probably would’ve just stood there frozen like a complete idiot, not helping the situation at all.

And how sad is that? Milo saves Zack over and over again, every time disaster strikes, but the one time Milo really needs him, Zack’s totally useless.

He should’ve seen that the conversation was going south and shut it down. He should’ve stood up for Milo more, or tried to get him out of the situation. He should’ve-

There’s a slight tug at the hem of his shirt. When he turns his head, he finds Milo’s hand gripping there. Not pulling, or trying to get his attention- Milo’s facing straight ahead, eyes downcast. Just, holding. Whether it’s an attempt to give comfort or receive it, Zack’s not sure.

But it does give him something else to focus on, aside from the spiraling thoughts in his head, and he smiles softly. Just in case Milo can see it out of the corner of his eye.

It’s a good reminder; there’s no point in dwelling on the past. He needs to keep moving forward, like Milo does.

They reach the back doors without issue, and are greeted by an empty parking lot. Fortunately, there aren’t any late stragglers- aside from them, of course. It’s a nice day, not too cold, so Zack doesn’t mind waiting a few minutes. Maybe the fresh air will help Milo. It’s certainly helping Zack.

He lets out a deep breath, feeling a little better for it. Milo settles further against his side while they wait, his cheek pressed against Zack’s shoulder. That steals the breath Zack just got back, but that’s the least of his concerns right now.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when Mrs. Murphy’s car pulls into the lot. Milo perks up a bit, though still remains silent as his mother exits the car. She takes in Milo’s current state with no comment, just a sad, knowing look in her eyes, and Zack wonders if this is more common than he realized.

“You ready to go, honey?” she asks kindly.

Milo hesitates for a second, then turns and abruptly gives a hug to the both of them. It’s a quick thing, but Zack feels his face heat up immediately; Milo’s never hugged him before. And that thought is followed by his heart swelling almost painfully, because Milo’s never hugged him before. With that context, it’s a deeply touching gesture.

After stepping away, Milo darts over to his mom, hiding his face in her side. She smooths a hand over his hair, murmuring something too low for Zack to hear, before smiling at them gratefully. “Thanks, you two.”

“No problem, Mrs. Murphy,” Melissa replies. “Feel better soon, Milo.”

“Yeah, take it easy,” Zack calls after them.

The car pulls away, and Zack can see Diogee clambering into Milo’s lap before they’re out of view. That makes him feel a little better. Still, he sends a quick prayer to the universe that the car ride goes smoothly, without any Murphy’s Law incidents. Milo really deserves a break.

Next to him, Melissa stands motionless, watching the car leave. Zack clears his throat. “Well, we should probably head back…”

Melissa shakes her head, sitting down on the steps. “First period’s already half-over by now, no point in going.” She shrugs. “Plus, we need to talk this out, or it’ll turn into one of those weird unspoken things.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly, Zack sits down next to her. If Melissa is willing to play hooky, it must be important. “Alright, then.”

They sit in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of distant traffic. He’d been expecting Melissa to start the conversation, but she seems to be waiting for him, instead. Waiting to see what his reaction is.

It hadn’t taken long for Melissa to go from ‘Milo’s only other friend’ to ‘Milo and Zack’s friend.’ Once she warmed up to him, she’d moved right along to acting like they’d known each other for years. But they certainly haven’t had any deep, serious discussions before. He’s not quite sure how to proceed.

Zack rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward. “So, uh… that happened.”

“Yep.” Melissa exhales heavily, but her expression is sympathetic. “I’m sorry you weren’t more prepared, it’s just that he tries to handle these things privately.”

Zack frowns. “These things? What do you mean?”

Melissa stares out over the parking lot, her brows knit together. “Milo breaks bones on a monthly basis. He comes away with some kind of injury on a near-daily basis. And the constant threat of danger plus the massive amount of effort required to deal with it would be enough to drive anyone to tears.”

“And…?” Zack prompts, confused.

Melissa glances at him out of the side of her eye. “Before now, have you ever seen him cry?”

Zack opens his mouth to reply, ‘Of course I have!’ because surely it would’ve happened at some point. He knows Milo gets hurt frequently, he’s watched it happen. But as he thinks about it, he can’t actually recall a time when tears were involved. Not even for broken bones.

“I… woah, you’re right,” Zack realizes, his stomach dropping.

Melissa nods grimly. “He doesn’t like crying. Says it messes with his ability to react to Murphy’s Law. So he just… doesn’t let himself cry, most of the time, no matter how hurt he gets. It’s been like that for as long as I’ve known him.”

It takes a second for the full implications to hit Zack. “Wait, didn’t you guys meet when you were six?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.” Zack swallows. They might be old enough now that crying isn’t as common, but Milo’s been like this since he was six, possibly younger. Zack himself was a bit of a crybaby at that age, even a skinned knee sending him into hysterics.

And sure, maybe it’s embarrassing to look back on, but that’s normal for little kids.

Milo didn’t get to have that.

“That’s… kinda sad,” Zack murmurs.

“I know,” Melissa sighs. “Of course, he can’t bottle it up forever. And crying is an important chemical release, it’s healthy. So he just puts it off until he’s safe at home, usually on a weekend. That way, he’s got his family there to look out for him, and he doesn’t have to worry about anyone else getting caught up in Murphy’s Law. I’ve only been there for a handful of them, but he probably goes for months in between. It’s… a lot of buildup.”

The pieces are starting to fall into place. Zack inhales sharply. “So, when he does finally let himself cry…”

Melissa gives him a thin smile. “Well, you know what they say. When it rains, it pours.” She wraps her arms around herself. “But this time was worse than normal, because he was having a panic attack on top of it. He really didn’t want to break down at school.”

Zack nods slowly, brows furrowing. “Wow. I had no idea.”

Melissa makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s not your fault, he doesn’t like people to know.”

Alarm shoots through Zack. This is a deeply personal aspect of Milo’s life. What if he wasn’t ready for Zack to see it? What if Zack’s intruding?

Melissa must have noticed the panic on his face, because she waves him off. “Don’t worry, him letting you stay was giving permission for me to tell you this. Just, people, in general. He puts a lot of work into staying upbeat all the time, and he doesn’t want that ruined by something like this.”

Zack chews on his lip, only slightly relieved. Quite a few people saw the beginning of the whole thing. “Is he gonna be okay? I know it was just some kids from class, but…”

“I think he will be,” Melissa says thoughtfully. “He’s been branching out a lot more this year, in terms of making friends.” She smiles faintly at him. “We’ve got you to thank for that.”

The sudden diverge throws Zack for a loop. “What do you mean?”

Melissa leans back on her elbows, contemplative. “I mean, if Milo and I started a band last year, Mort wouldn’t have dreamed of joining. If we’d been crazy enough to have a birthday party, no one would’ve come. For as long as all of us here can remember, Milo’s just had me. But seeing you give him a chance… I don’t know, I think it’s helped them realize they don’t have to stay so far away.”

Zack’s stunned. “I… guess I hadn’t thought about it.”

That’s an understatement. Zack found his place so readily within this new school that he hadn’t stopped to consider what things had been like before. He knows Milo didn’t have any close friends aside from Melissa, but had the other kids in class always been nothing more than scant acquaintances? Was it new for them to engage Milo in conversation or willingly be around him?

Then Zack thinks back to the day they met, at the bus stop. The way the other kids there had immediately scrambled away from Milo, expressions full of fear. And he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

Melissa hums. “Yep. You’re a trendsetter.”

Zack rubs his arm, embarrassed. He really doesn’t deserve accolades just for giving Milo a chance. “So… do you cry often?” he ventures, changing the subject.

Melissa rolls her eyes at him. “I’d say a normal amount, for someone in my circumstances. Whenever I’m seriously hurt, you can bet I’m crying about it. Not everyone can just block out that kind of pain.” Her expression sobers. “But even on the emotional side of things, if there’s ever a particularly rough day, then yeah, I’ll go home and cry it out. It’s a good release.”

“Huh.” Zack scratches his head. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised. You seem to handle Murphy’s Law so well, you know?”

Melissa snorts. “Yeah, only because I let myself cry every now and them. No one can deal with all that disaster and destruction without it getting to them. Not even Milo.”

“Fair point,” Zack amends.

“So, what about you?” Melissa elbows him. “C’mon, don’t be a hypocrite.”

Zack flushes. “I mean, yeah, sometimes,” he admits. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad to be friends with Milo, but Murphy’s Law can be… stressful.” Particularly on top of his normal anxiety, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Melissa nods approvingly. “Good. Own it. Being part of a Murphy’s life has its ups and down. It also has its own set of rules.”

“Like what?” Zack asks, tilting his head.

“You need to make sure you relieve stress on a regular basis, whether that’s through crying or something else. And you need to relax on a regular basis, too. Not necessarily in that order,” she adds, as an afterthought.

Zack raises his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. Anything else I should be aware of?”

Melissa counts them off on her fingers. “Stay hydrated, get regular sleep, have a good amount of protein in the diet…”

“That just sounds like normal self-care stuff,” Zack points out flatly.

Melissa squints at him. “Touché.” Then she snaps her fingers. “Gargling salt water can help your throat recover from over-screaming. Oh, and Murphys are legally protected from being discriminated against by an accord written in the early 1900’s, so don’t be afraid to cite it. Also, Milo craves physical affection from those he’s close to, but he doesn’t feel he has the right to ask for it.”

Zack blinks. “Figure all this out yourself?”

“Nah, Mrs. Murphy had some tips.” Melissa’s humor fades. “Seriously though, I noticed your hesitation back there. That’s a good instinct, since plenty of people don’t like to be touched during panic attacks. But you don’t need to worry about it with Milo, that’s one of the few times he actually seeks out comfort.”

Zack jolts with surprise. He hadn’t though Melissa would pick up on that- at the time, he was hardly aware of what he was doing, himself. “Oh, alright then.”

“And just for the record,” Melissa’s expression turns mischievous, “if you were a little more forthcoming with physical affection on a day-to-day basis, I don’t think Milo would mind.”

Zack jumps to his feet like he’s been electrocuted, choking on air. “O- oh, sure, of course. Being close to Milo, I don’t have a problem with that, why would I have a problem with that?” he babbles, feeling his face heat up. “I mean, I don’t not have a problem with it, I mean, not more than the normal amount for two friends-” Okay, Zack, time to shut up now.

Melissa just snickers at him, standing up and dusting off her skirt. “C’mon, it’s about time to head in. Ready for a completely average, boring, uneventful day?”

Zack sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets with a rueful grin. “If we must.”

Maybe it’s not so bad to have a little time to process things, considering how much he has to process.

~*~

Milo’s only been curled up on the couch for a couple hours when his phone buzzes.

It’s a selfie from Melissa, in science class. She’s angled the phone to get Zack in the background of the shot; he’s clearly dozing, eyelids drooping as he rests his chin in his hand. Melissa’s giving the camera a knowing look, and the caption reads, ‘Someone’s missing you!’

Milo’s heart skips a beat. He quickly attributes it to surprise that Melissa is actually texting in class- though he knows she’s just checking in with him. It’s a thoughtful gesture, and he sends a couple emojis back. Words, even in text form, are still hard right now. But he knows she’ll understand, because she and Zack are the best friends a Murphy could ask for.

He’s lucky like that, to not have to weather this storm alone.

~*~

[adamwatchesmovies]

Wild America (1997)

Wild America is a film without a purpose. It tells a story no one wanted to see. Based on true events, it opens in 1967 and tells the story of Marshall Stouffer (Jonathan Taylor Thomas) and his brothers Mark (Devon Sawa) and Marty (Scott Bairstow) who would eventually become great nature documentarians.

This is one of the worst family movies I've seen in a long time. I won’t pretend to know what happened behind the scenes or what the film's pitch was like but the goal had to be something like this: Wild America is a nature documentary show that played on PBS from 1982 to 1994. It was insanely popular. Now let's tell everyone what inspired the prolific documentarians. The brand recognition combined with the popular teen actors should equal a license to print money... in this case, a lot of $3 bills.

No aspect of this film is convincing. The comedic and adventurous tone means everyone in the film is a cartoon. I doubt the Stouffer's first wilderness trip included nearly getting blown up while in the middle of a military weapons testing ground or nearly getting eaten while discovering a mythical cave filled with bears. The tone and characters' actions are all over the place and several developments will leave you utterly bewildered.

You would think that because the title is Wild America and it’s telling us how the Stouffer brothers began as filmmakers that this picture would focus on nature and wildlife. Instead, the attention is given to wild antics. It isn't interested in the majesty of the flora and fauna of North America, nearly as much as people getting attacked by moose and loudly screaming while holding onto their antlers for dear life.

You won't be able to stand anyone in the film. The three heroes are bland and immature. Their only redeeming quality is their inexplicable luck when it comes to accidentally capturing footage of animals. Their father (Jamey Sheridan) is a jerk who deliberately attempts to crush their dreams like an empty can of cheap beer. We get some one-dimensional bullies thrown in for kicks. Everyone else is a comedic sketch or bizarrely out of place. Bet you'd never expect a group of nude hippies or a lady Two-Face in here but just wait. With a lame-brained story that consists of the boys falling into one situation where they get an awesome shot of animals after another and then a cheesy plot about father/son bonding, its only hope is decent cinematography and animal footage. Instead, how about some awful special effects? It’s easy to tell the animatronic animal heads (and there are many) from the real deal and several prolonged shots of what is clearly a man in a phony bear costume pretending to be roaring while stock sounds play gave me flashbacks to Meet the Spartans. I would've been laughing if the barrage of anti-comedy hadn’t sucked every last chuckle out of my body.

It’s an adventure movie that’s badly written and populated with characters you dislike, it's predictable, cheap, and even includes a couple of bad performances to round it off nicely. As the end credits began to roll, I had a glimpse of hope. Next to the list of sinners who partook in this effort is actual footage shot for the Wild America TV series. I was excited... until I realized I was watching a Full-screen VHS. To allow the image to fit, everything is squashed. Now the credits are illegible and the wildlife footage is but a ghost of what it must've looked like in real life. Aside from a couple of shots where the mountains, forests, and rivers look good, there's nothing to like about Wild America. (Full-screen version on VHS, April 30, 2015)

[ephemeral-afterlight]

Day 4: Human Shield

(Pack your bags, martyrs.)

Whumptober 2019 Day 4: Human Shield

Word Count: 3521

Relationships: none

Warnings: injuries (various), blood, weapons (swords), implied concussion

A/N: alrighty, time for some Creativitwins shenanigans! i hope i captured their personalities okay; this is definitely my favourite story i’ve written for whumptober so far ^^

A shrill, feral roar rips out into the Imagination, echoes through the mindscape past the boundaries of the twins’ realm and in every nook and cranny it can reach. It’d probably hurt Roman’s ears, if he wasn’t already so used to hearing it, but this time isn’t like all the other times. It’s frantic, and angrier, and tension ripples through his limbs. The Dragon Witch is his foe, yet again, except this time, he’s joined by Remus. His brother hasn’t ever been one for fighting alongside him, preferring independent combat as opposed to co-op, but Roman was already here, and Remus was bored, so now they’re in a battle.

They’re fighting together against the Dragon Witch to keep her at bay, but they’re also fighting each other, in more of a verbal way than a physical way. Their bickering is nothing new, a familiar backdrop to the sound of swords clanging against metallic scales and the sizzling noise left in the aftermath of their opponent’s fiery breath. They don’t argue about anything in particular, anything important. They never really do, if Roman’s being honest. It’s more of a sibling rivalry and casual disdain rather than genuine hatred, although he’d never actually admit that to Remus. Their squabbles and quarrels are, while annoying, something Roman regards with a begrudged fondness, and that is a piece of information he will take to his grave.

Which actually might be sooner than he thought if he doesn’t start paying attention.

The sting that emanates from the slash in his arm is something Roman has been frequently acquainted with in the past, but it doesn’t make the wound hurt any less. He knows the danger of fighting in the Imagination, knows that the effects will last until you leave, but sparring with knights and battling monstrous creatures is fun and helps to get Roman out of creative blocks. If leading Thomas in artistic pursuits means a few scrapes and bruises every now and again, then Roman is happy to endure a little bit of pain until he can get back to the main part of the mindscape and wave the injuries away. He never stays hurt, so it hasn’t ever been a big problem before. Damage to his person is impermanent, and it always has been, so Roman just shrugs off the pain of the abrasions and cuts and contusions and holds his sword in front of him in an aggressive attacking stance.

“Ha! You got whapped!” Remus jeers from the left, nasal voice cutting easily through the chaos as it always does. Roman glances over, does a double-take, and then gives an incredulous laugh. Remus is covered in blood, most of it likely to not be his own, but he also has scrapes and burns all over his skin and outfit. He’s one to talk!

“Shut up!” Roman calls back, retorts in the same way he’s used to. A general rule with Remus is that you won’t have a certain interaction with him just once. If it happened before, it’s gonna happen again, and this has been proved true countless times. Roman has come to expect the lewd gestures, the disturbing language, his “surprise” tackles from the shadows that Roman manages to sidestep nearly every time. Remus has a fixation on repeating things until they stick, doing the same thing over and over and over until something new or different happens. Einstein probably wouldn’t have been very fond of him.

Remus belts out a laugh, leaps forward with manic eyes to slash at the Dragon Witch. His cutlass manages to leave a clean slice on the creature’s back, comes back stained with violet blood. Roman still doesn’t understand why Remus won’t just use his morning star, since his brother has always been the most powerful when using it. He insisted before the fight began that it’s “more fun this way”, hooked his morning star onto his back, and set off to get into more trouble. Roman can still feel the headache even now.

The Dragon Witch growls again, lashes her tail out in a swinging arc, and Roman dives over it cleanly. Remus, as much of a reckless idiot as usual, grabs the spiked appendage when it gets close enough. He’s immediately whipped around as she tries to shake him loose, but Roman knows from personal experience that Remus is like a rabid dog and will not let go once he’s latched on. His legs and sides smack into trees, rocks, the ground, and yet he’s still somehow not winded enough to let his grip loosen a single bit. Roman can tell that the Dragon Witch is starting to get frustrated, smoke blowing out of her nose just like in the cartoons they still watch frequently.

The Dragon Witch herself has gone through a few iterations throughout Thomas’ life, getting more and more “realistic” as he grew up, if you count a half-witch, half-dragon hybrid as being anywhere close to realistic. When Thomas was younger, she had just been a large, purple dragon (influenced by Spyro, no doubt) with a stereotypical witch hat. Now, she’s more of an actual character, closer to what Roman imagines would be in a cool medieval fantasy show on television.

Most of her body is human-- her torso, arms, and legs are pretty normal-looking apart from the violet scales and deep scarring. She’s mostly naked, with a ripped, flowing robe to cover up her sensitive areas (Thomas is still family-friendly, damn it), and a lavish hoard of body jewelry hung at any place that’s free. Her neck boasts delicate golden chains, her wrists and ankles are encircled by broken diamond shackles, and other silver jewelry drapes across her torso, stomach, and legs. Her whole schtick is that she comes to unsuspecting villages in the night, steals their valuables, and uses it to adorn herself in immeasurable wealth.

However, she’s still part-dragon, and that comes in the form of gleaming pointed teeth, wicked sharp nails, an enormous wingspan, and of course, her spiked tail, which is probably far more lethal than it should be. Her shimmering scales radiate out from the center of her stomach, create a patch of bare skin similar to that of what a teddy bear might have, which is almost ironic when it juxtaposes the bloodstains discolouring nearly every smooth inch of her body. She’s definitely evil, and has probably killed tons of imaginary villagers, and Roman kinda loves her simply for the merit she poses as a villain. Whenever he needs a break from the chaos and responsibility, he can rely on her consistency, can depend on the knowledge that she’s always waiting somewhere to engage Roman in his favourite heroic escapades.

And although her purpose is to play the villain, to lose to the hero, an inevitable means to an end, she’s still dangerous. If he slacks off, he can absolutely be defeated. Well, at least Roman can. Remus seems to be having the time of his life even while getting thrown about like a ragdoll (maybe because of it), and honestly, that probably is his idea of fun. He couldn’t have been an arts and crafts geek, could he? No, he has to be weird, and vulgar, and stuck in a cycle of heedlessness. And despite the fact that every time Remus lets himself get hurt on purpose, to fulfill his idea of a day well spent, Roman feels like he’s gonna have an actual heart attack, he can’t deny that some of the foolhardy things Remus does are highly entertaining. Such as now.

The Dragon Witch lets out vicious snarls as she tries to throw Remus off of her back, outraged howls that are only met with deranged laughter. Of course, his brother is unafraid, impetuously so, and that’s something that gives him a clear advantage in most of his fights. Their opponents can act threatening, rise up as terrifying monsters and evil sorcerers and haunted thieves to menacingly loom over the hero, but Remus isn’t the hero, and he can be just as scary. It’s a critical part of what makes him so intimidating, really.

With every growl, every failed slash, the Dragon Witch gets more agitated. She kicks up dirt and gravel with her clawed feet as she stomps around, bleeds into polluted air with rash arrogance. The path they stand on is partially obscured by clouds of dust, leaving the two’s squabble to be enacted as shadows through the grimy lens. Sound is more effective than sight, in this instance, and it’s this sense that leads Roman back into the fray.

His eyes burn as he trudges toward the faint outline of the Dragon Witch, footsteps filled with caution while he shields his eyes from the dust in a futile attempt to ease the sting. He almost trips over upended rocks multiple times but manages to approach the scuffle relatively unscathed. It’s a wonder Remus is still hanging on, squeezing one of the larger spikes on the half-dragon’s back in a death grip even as she doesn’t let up trying to shake him off. Roman can see through the haze in the air that Remus has managed to almost double the number of scratches he had before, and yet nothing’s changed. He’s still grinning, still whooping and shouting as if he’s this is all just a game, and for him, it probably is.

Despite the fact that the lacerations don’t seem to bother him, Remus is still unable to fight efficiently due to his position, and Roman realizes with a groan that he’s going to have to front the efforts on this one. He doesn’t know why he expected Remus to contribute a single thing to make his life easier, but even with the annoyance, he still can’t really bring himself to be angry.

The prince-like side sighs once more, steels his resolve, and then dashes forward.

Once he’s close enough, Roman almost swings his sword in an effort to do some sort of damage, but manages to stop himself before he does. He’s learned over time that recklessness in combat is one of the biggest detriments to swaying the fight in your favour, and has slowly began to adopt and absorb the patience and split-second strategizing that often tips the balance towards himself in altercations. There are only a few moments before the Dragon Witch will notice him and attack, so Roman needs to think quickly.

In all of the fights he’s had with her, there has been a relative consistency in the way the villain ensures Roman will be the underdog, getting beaten multiple times throughout the battle right up until the end. Her counter-attacks are the focal point here, something he’s begun to train himself to look for in their skirmishes. They’re easily compared to chess pieces, and it’s important for Roman to condition himself into analyzing each move to see where he can improve.

There is one part of their battles that tends to repeat itself, a specific situation that he’s relived time and time again. Roman will charge at the Dragon Witch thoughtlessly, foolishly leave himself wide open, and she’ll whip around at the last second to strike him in the torso with her tail. It’s almost practiced at this point, choreographed into the repetition of the timeline, fluid from one altercation to the next. And Roman knows this, is striving to rethink, and recognizing patterns is how he’ll overcome his deficiencies.

He can’t wait any longer. Narrowing his eyes, Roman puts on an act, lets out a dramatic battle cry as he lunges forward with his sword raised above his head. He can see the Dragon Witch smirk, sees the way her dark eyes glint, and he knows that he’s not going to fail this time. As soon as Roman is within range, she turns as usual, easily baited out with conscious forethought. This time is different, though, because Roman stops short, shifts back to lag the pace, and her tail shoots around.

In a moment that doesn’t happen often, Remus turns around, somehow knowing exactly what Roman’s plan is. There’s a synchronicity there, duality that only comes from two beings who used to exist as one. Roman hops over the Dragon Witch’s tail, leaps forward to grab onto Remus’ extended hand, and uses the leverage to vault off of her back and over her head. He lands hard on the ground in front of her, refusing to waste a single precious second as he ignores the pain that shoots through his legs at the rough stop. Roman immediately turns and plants a foot backward, stamps an anchor into the grass to use as a pivot point. There’s a very small window of time that Roman has to operate in, to take advantage of the pause of surprise as the half-dragon processes the new turn of events. The prince spins around, then uses the momentum to bring down a harsh slash on the Dragon Witch’s chest.

The villainess shrieks, rears back hard enough to finally eject Remus from her back, and she doubles over to clutch at the gash in her open patch of skin. Remus lands in the dirt with a thump, breath forced from his lungs at the impact, and Roman ignores the Dragon Witch for now in favour of rushing to help Remus up. Yeah, his brother is annoying, but he’s still his brother, and Roman is a terrible excuse of a prince if he doesn’t help someone in need, especially family.

His counterpart groans from where he’s laying on the ground, rolls his head to the side to reveal a rock now coloured with a smattering of red. Of course he hits the one place where there isn’t grass, devoid of a more forgiving landing. Roman’s so used to the way that his brother is able to adapt to each new challenge, laugh back in the face of adversity in a different, more careless way than he himself does, that seeing a glazed film over unseeing eyes causes him to stumble back.

Although Remus isn’t usually perturbed too much by injury, and in fact welcomes it, that doesn’t mean that it still doesn’t hurt, that it doesn’t affect him the same way it does any of the others. Particularly in the Imagination, where everything is amplified multiple times, colours and sounds and feelings turned up several notches to match the overwhelming, extraordinary nature that encompasses such a vast, limitless wealth of creation. The production of ideas from such conspicuous places, influenced by the very experience that sets their host apart as an individual, it allows for so much light, but also so much darkness. And though Remus operates comfortably within these confines, yanks on the reins with a force of a tidal wave to force relevancy and requirement, it consequently brings to light how much even his already staggeringly disturbed intrigue can be worse, can always be worse.

Roman has never had full control over the Imagination, has shared it with his brother despite the split far favouring himself. He tries to keep it relatively clean, err on the side of easier topics so as not to disturb Thomas, but even Remus needs an outlet, especially Remus. Roman tries his best to put forth light and warmth, and he’s largely successful, but the suppression of his brother’s thoughts and ideas can only hold on for so long before there is a need to release the pressure, create a draining channel to make sure the water doesn’t spill over the dam. It’s not nearly as bad as it used to be (though the journey to forgiveness and acceptance was certainly arduous), but the predisposition toward lording Roman’s contributions above Remus’ has resulted in a severely heightened state of the areas under his counterpart’s control.

One such area of control is the effect of injuries on those who get hurt inside the Imagination, something that, while more realistic and immersive, has gotten Roman into trouble many, many times. Wounds don’t work the same here as they do in the main part of the mindscape, set apart from the innate impermanence of how they function. Here, they actually hurt, which is not something one would experience outside of the Imagination. They’re also unable to be waved away, cast aside in an instant; once you’ve got it, it stays there, at least until you return and employ the use of object impermanence like a salve. Sure, it makes engaging in Roman’s favourite heroic scenarios feel much more real, but it’s also left him in various predicaments, having to limp away from battles or cower under the force of broken bones.

So normally, when met with the assertation of his brother bleeding from his head, there would be little cause for panic. But in the Imagination, there are much harsher consequences for reckless behaviour, and the way Remus sways and wobbles as he tries to sit up spells out bad news. Roman can feel his heart-rate quicken, feels the lump in his throat forming as Remus doesn't seem to be cognizant enough to respond to his calls and questions.

The prince-like side reaches out, shakes his brother’s shoulders to try and snap him out of it. It seems to succeed somewhat, and Remus blinks a few times before finally meeting Roman’s worried gaze. His face is terrifyingly blank for a few moments, as if he doesn’t even recognize him, and then he’s standing, wincing at the volume of his own voice when he barks out a laugh. “My ‘ead got hit pre--pretty hard, didn’ it?”

Roman’s alarm builds even more, eyebrows furrow as his twin stumbles to the side from a loss of balance that doesn’t have any external cause. Remus reaches up to scratch at the back of his head, forgetting the injury that was just created, and he winces with a sharp hiss as his hand comes back partially covered in fresh blood. It’s a wonder he hasn’t passed out yet, what with the absurd amount of blood he’s lost just in the past few minutes alone, but he’s still standing, and Roman is impressed even amidst the concern. And then his counterpart’s eyes snap open, as clear as they were before, and he’s yelling out a “Move!” as he tries to reach forward.

But it’s too late, and the eldest twin certainly isn’t going to let it hit Remus, so he raises his arms to the sides in order to shield as much of his brother as possible. Roman feels the drag of spikes tearing open the flesh on his back, the ache of the bruises beginning to form from the force of the impact that the Dragon Witch’s tail causes.

Roman spins around through the acute pain emanating from his back as he summons his shield, the one he only saves for emergencies because its gleam can beguile and stupefy and entrance any being who lays their eyes on it. It has a property that almost hypnotizes, something that Roman certainly didn’t intend on it doing, but he’s had to employ its assistance sparingly because of how long it leaves its victims in a daze. He has no problem using it now though, holds it up and braces himself against Remus’ newfound grip on his shoulders, and ducks his head.

The Dragon Witch screeches and tries to send a vicious plume of fire their way, but the shield protects them, turns each flickering flame into sparkling dust to drop harmlessly to the ground when it’s close enough. Her belted attack soon dies out, morphs from a shrill howl to a pained moan, and her voice starts to lose its volume. Roman risks taking a peek over the top, and sees the villainess stumble from side to side as her eyelids droop involuntarily.

The Dragon Witch’s gaze lands one more time on Roman’s shield, and then she’s slumping to the ground, lost in the intricacies of its swirling gold patterns.

“You alright?” Roman asks as he stands back up, furrowing his brows when his twin’s eyes shift in and out of focus. He reaches out to steady Remus in case he falls, but his brother manages to shake his head as if he’s trying to jostle the cotton in his brain and then straightens up just fine, so he lets his hand fall back to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good now. You’ll really do anything to be the hero, huh? Oh, my saviour!” Remus swoons, mocking a feminine voice as he puts the back of his blood-soaked hand to his forehead delicately. The dark red claret streaks across his face, mats his wild, unruly hair down, and Remus doesn’t acknowledge it at all. His counterpart mocks the damsel in distress, snickers with that god-awful nasal laugh of his, and Roman playfully whaps him on the shoulder with the hilt of his katana in relief.

Remus casually bumps his shoulder against Roman’s own as they walk back to the entrance of the Imagination, shows a rare sign of good faith, and Roman is positive that he has the best brother in the world.

[terrible-tentacle-theatre]

The Bestiary Revamped: Vampire Squid (HALLOWEEN SPECIAL)

Disclaimer: While this article is founded in scientific fact, it contains hyberbole and conscious exaggerations for the sake of comedy. Do not take my ramblings at face value. You can find the sources at the end of the article and tools for scientific fact-checking under the “Learn more” link on my blog.

The old article can be read here.

(I intended to post this yesterday but stuff came up. Anyway.)

Ahem.

Cue the spooky music.

*threatening organ music plays at unbearable volumes*

That’s right, dear readers, the Spooky Gourd Day has finally, finally come, and with it the nigh-endless Halloween shitposting that permeates this website every October like the smell of pumpkin pie did my house just a few hours ago, immediately before I ate most of it. (I still have like half of it left, but it’s cold now so it doesn’t have that mouthwatering smell unless I reheat it. And I was too busy watching old Betty Boop Halloween cartoons to reheat it. Anyway, I’m getting off track.)

Frankly, the obsession of internet culture with this innocuous holiday has always fascinated me. What it is about a day when you get to dress up all funky-like, go from house to house acting like an idiot, horf down all the candy you can get away with and watch scary movies all night that is so attractive to them youngsters? I simply cannot wrap my head around it.

However, it is a day of great significance to this blog, since this is the day when we celebrate the utter freakiest of the freakiest that can be pulled up from the stygian waves of the planet’s oceans. This is the third Halloween of the Terrible Tentacle Theatre, and for this notable occasion, I have decided to give one of my earliest poster children a much-needed revisit.

Back in the early days of the blog, when it was still called Hectocotylus and my content mainly consisted of spicing up Wikipedia and Cracked articles with swearing for the sick enjoyment of some 30 followers, the article in question was my first big hit among the people of the Digital Blue Hills of Hell. In the days when most of my articles didn’t go above 20 notes, this beast gathered up 300 notes by using its nebulous tendrils to reach into the deepest corners of the ole ‘web. Not only was this creature my first big hit in my career as a marine biology blogger with tone moderation issues, it would also fit in great as the main monster in a theoretical Universal Horror/Syfy teamup, which would be the Halloweeniest shit ever.

Ladies, gentlemen and other fellows, the vampire squid.

Before you even see this thing in full detail you can already gather that I didn’t choose it for this year’s Halloween special for nothing. Everything from the ghoulish dark red color scheme to the bat-like webbing between eldritch tentacles screams “cheesy Hammer Horror movies written by good ol’ Howard Philips”. And it will become even more evident when you see it in its full, glowy, betentacled glory.

This is how it looks like when you stare down a squishy, floppy incarnation of doom. This thing looked so freaky that the dude who discovered it, a certain German biologist called Karl Chun, decided to name it Vampyroteuthis infernalis. That’s Latin for “vampire squid from Hell”. Yep, that’s right. Remember the part where science is hard fact unaffected by emotion? Well you can throw that right out the window, because this fucker freaked its discoverer out so hard that he named it the vampire squid from Hell.

“The shit I’ve seen, kiddo. You wouldn’t believe.”

Even descriptions of this guy sound like they escaped straight from a 19th century gothic horror novel. For example, in 1925 the Arcturus expedition caught one near the Galapagos Islands and described it as “a very small but very terrible octopus, black as night, with ivory white jaws and blood-red eyes.” Even in the years of the Roaring Twenties, merely seeing the vampire squid was enough to bring out anyone’s inner Poe or Bram Stoker, apparently, which isn’t very surprising considering that it looks like Béla Lugosi had an illicit affair with one of the Star-Spawn of Cthulhu.

You’re welcome for that mental image.

While calling it a vampire is more than appropriate, the names “squid” or “octopus” are much less fitting. While intially appearing to be something of an octopus, it’s actually not one of them; and it isn’t a squid either, which left the confused scientists to place it within its own little private taxon, the order Vampyromorphida. If you know a little bit of Latin, that means “vampire-shaped”, which would imply that this is the general shape for vampires. So next time you read Twilight, imagine Edward as a vampire squid flopping around on the ground the entire time and I guarantee you’ll have a blast reading through several hundred pages of sweaty bloodsucker romance.

Unlike Edward however, the vampire squid doesn’t actually feed on blood. Dashing from shadow to shadow in the cover of a snappy opera cape and hunting for innocent young maidens in the night is the kind of energy expenditure that this malevolent mollusk cannot afford. Mainly because it lives (you guessed it) in the darkest, deepest excesses of the oceans, where the eternal darkness creates an all-year-round Halloween mood. In these waters, even beginners have a hard time finding the tiniest scraps of food, and have to resort to drastic measures to get by. But the vampire squid looks at those beginners and goes “yall are scrubs git gud lmao”. Compared to the vampire squid’s lifestyle, virtually any other denizen of the deep sea lives right in the middle of a goddamn cornucopia.

See, the vampire squid doesn’t just live in the deep ocean. It specifically prefers places called Oxygen Minimum Zones (OMZ), which sounds more like the hardest Sonic level ever than any serious place which can support life. OMZs are vast sheet-like expanses of water in the deep sea which barely contain any breathable oxygen. Some of these zones can contain as little as 5% of the oxygen that saturates air, and barely anything survives here.

And guess what? The vampire squid lives here. Not only lives, but thrives.

This is the game the vampire squid plays, every day of its life. On hard difficulty.

Obviously, living in a dead wasteland of suffocating water has required the squid to adopt some nifty tools of survival. Do not do so would be like entering the final dungeon of a video game with early game gear.

First off is a pair of sensory filaments, which the vampire squid extends through the water much like a spider does its web. They are super long and flexible, and probably the source of so many dick jokes that the squid will choke a bitch if anyone tells one more.

“No, I’ve never heard that one ever. Ha ha ha. Real fuckin’ original.”

Next up is a pair of membranous wings, used by the squid to travel through the aether of space to “fly” through the water, it’s cape-like arm web billowing behind it. The vampire parallels are getting more and more accurate.

Interestingly this wing isn’t the same in adults and juveniles. At one point in their devlopment they start growing a second pair of fins which eventually fully substitutes the first pair, which then atrophies back into the flesh. Thus if you’re lucky enough to catch a vampire squid, it’s not impossible that it will have four fins. The biologists who first found these four-finned squid nearly went insane trying to describe it (and several other developmental stages) as separate species. It was such a mess it took years to sort out, and nowadays the vampire squid is the sole surviving species of its order. He’s standing in the darkness. Alone.

WAKE ME UP INSIDE

The fins and the filaments aren’t just decorative elements the squid picked out at Hot Topic, either. Used in tandem, they’re a fearsomely effective netting tool and the way this crafty cephalopod earns its daily bread. You think spiders are cool with their webs? Nah, Spiders ain’t shit. They’re lazy idiots and their web does all the work for them. the vampire squid’s filaments is where it’s REALLY at.

See, the vampire squid’s main diet is thankfully not blood but something called “marine snow”. This is basically the shower of discarded tissue, shit and corpses that rains down upon the lower layers of the deep ocean from the upper layers all year round. Having this fall from the sky for “White Christmas” would probably be quite traumatizing.

DECK THE HALLS WITH BALLS OF FECES SHALALALALALALALALAAAAARGH

The vampire squid, however, has had its resolve steeled by years of isolation in the darkness of the deep ocean, and is willing to chug down anything to survive. Bear Grylls is a picky gourmet chef compared to this guy.

That said, it needs to eat something that’s actually of some nutritional worth. It could spend its life scarfing down every chunk of marine snow it comes across, but that would be a waste of muscle movements since most of it does exactly nil to fill up its stomach. That’s where the filaments/fins combo come in, turning the vampire squid into an angry little tripwire trap ready to snap at any moment.

Note the filament. That’s not a parasite, that’s legit a part of the animal. Nobody knows where it evolved from, it’s not a modified arm or tentacle and it’s a fucking enigma.

Mystery tentacles: the quintessential Terrible Tentacle Theatre experience.

Extending its filaments (one at a time) into the mucky waters around, it waits more still then I do when I go to the kitchen for a glass of water during the night and I hear a sudden noise. The filaments come with a plethora of sensitive nerve endings, ensuring that anything bigger than a flea’s asscheeks landing on them will elicit an immediate response from the squid. And if said asscheeks touch the filaments, responds the squid it does. Specifically, it exhibits a surprising burst of speed (considering it just drifts around all day and it is effectively the consistency of Jell-O), pulled entirely by its fins to perform an acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle, whipping around in a loose loop and catching its own filament. Millions of dogs around the world enviously sigh in unison.

After this, the squid pulls off its prey from the filament using its arms, which generate a solid slime-like material. The collected chunks of edible whatnot are rolled into a ball of slime, and horfed down by the squid at once. You probably cannot tell but there’s a Michelin star underneath its mantle. “Slimeball à la Vampire Squid” is one gourmet-ass dish.

Molto bene!

Of course, all this fine dining makes the vampire squid itself tasty as all hell. You are what you eat, afterall. But in the deep sea, you do NOT want to be tasty, because everyone is hungry on top of being the most light-deficient gourmet motherfuckers on the planet. So naturally, our subject needs some sort of way to evade the raving food critics hunting him in the deep. And he has this way in the form of a very unlikely tool: bioluminescence.

“But Admin”, I hear you say, “didn’t you just get done telling us last week that glowing in the deep sea will attract everything around you?” That I did, young padawan, and it still stands. However, just like last week’s subject, the vampire squid uses its built-in glowsticks with a very express purpose and doesn’t just flash into the sunset willy-nilly. The glowy parts of this beast have very well-defined places and usages, exquisitely located and timed, just like a laugh track in a sitcom. Underneath its dark-red skin the vampire squid carries clusters of glowing photophores mainly on the tip of its arms as well as in two fake eye-spots on the top of its mantle, ready to flare up in a blue burst of light on demand. The fake eyes even come with their own built-in eyelids, opening and closing as Dracula Jr. sees fit.

Imagine you’re a predator and you see this glowing collection of random bullshit. Now figure out where to bite. Good fucking luck.

These lights are used with great care and consideration in order to troll the fuck out of anybody who is foolish enough to make an attempt on the vampire squid’s life. Upon attack, the squid whips its arms around with the lights on full luminosity, creating a confusing dance of light spots in the otherwise total darkness and messing up the predator’s perception. The false eyes only make things worse, finally creating the illusion that the vampire squid possesses unlimited godlike control over space and time, which may damn well be true.

Question: What way is this vampire squid going? Hint: It’s not facing toward you.

The appearance of the squid as a godlike psychic is surprisingly in line with the whole vampire angle, since Dracula has reknownedly had the ability to charm and hypnotize people. The effect is further accentuated by the squid’s eyes, proportionally the largest of any animal ever discovered. With a diameter a whopping one sixth of the animal’s whole body, this thing's oculars are like if you were walking around with eyes the size of your head. Each.

And for added effect, they glow and change color depending on which angle you’re looking at them from.

DISCO CTHULHU

And finally, if a spooky vampire-looking-ass dark red glowing octopus-squid-thing with hypnotic powers isn’t Halloweeny enough for you, the vampire squid has a final trick up its sleeve that catapults it right into the realm of body horror. This is suspected to be a defensive tactic but who the fuck knows, really. Deep sea creatures are enigmatic as shit, and they guard their secrets jealously.

Alright, I’ll quit beating around the bush and say it outright. Basically the final defensive measure of the vampire squid is turning itself inside out.

Yep.

Of all the stupid shit that Mother Nature could have come up with, she went and decided “alright, it just up and turns itself inside the fuck out. What are you gonna do about it?”

This behavior is known to science as “pineappling” or even more Halloweeny-ly “pumpkin posture” (no, seriously) and it involves the squid taking the webbing between its arms and turning it upside to shield its head and body from harm. Now folded comfortably into a spiky little footbal, the vampire squid knows itself free from harm. The webbings are thin enough for it to see through, but also don’t let its lights to shine around, so doing this effectively means the vampire squid switches into stealth mode. Plus it looks stylishly similar to Dracula popping the collar on his cape.

The vampire squid is every Monster Mash horror cliché come to life and smushed into a vaguely cephalopod shaped package for best user experience. When the stars are right and Cthulhu and his Star-Spawn emerge from the sunken city of R’lyeh to bring the world to ruin once more, these guys will be the first living things they encounter. And then they’ll fuck off back to their stupid city, mumbling things like “what the hell man, that’s plagiarism” and “that’s way too extra, even for us”. The apocalypse is postponed once again, thanks to the vampire squid’s vailant efforts of looking weird as fuck.

Happy Halloween, everybody! I was a day late due to the length of this article, but I hope you don’t mind. Until next Tuesday’s article, have a wonderful time with the aftermath of the day of cheesy horror and confectioneries.

Sources:

Encyclopedia of Life

Tree of Life Web Project

Animal Diversity Web

Ocean Biogeographic Information System (OBIS)

Ellis, Richard. “Introducing Vampyroteuthis infernalis, the vampire squid from Hell”. The Cephalopod Page. Dr. James B. Wood. 

Seibel, Brad. “Vampyroteuthis infernalis, Deep-sea Vampire squid”. The Cephalopod Page. Dr. James B. Wood. Retrieved 3 July 2011. 

Hoving, H. J. T.; Robison, B. H. (2012). “Vampire squid: Detritivores in the oxygen minimum zone”. Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences. 

[fly-pow-bye]

ThunderCats - “Berbils”

Written By: Leonard Starr

The ThunderCats meet some weird friends.

(I would, and should, have completed this during the weekend, but ThunderCats reviews were one of the last things on my mind the last few days. Of course, with all this extra time I have now, I had no excuse to not complete it yesterday. If this ends up published unfinished, which it is if this text is still here, please be patient.)

The episode begins with Mumm-Ra the Ever Living proving his tagline, by emerging from his tomb. Sure, he's not the muscular blue guy that Skeletor could look up to anymore, but he's still willing. He talks to himself, and the audience, about how he's going to make sure that Eye of Thundara is "accidentally destroyed." That will be a thing he's doing throughout the episode, as the Mutants of Plun-Darr don't even make an appearance here.

As Mumm-Ra looks on with his magical pool, we see that Panthro has made a Thunder Tank out of the scraps of the ship. Last week's Cool Toy was the Claw Shield, and this week's new Cool Toy is the Thunder Tank, something he had been teasing since the last episode. While Panthro is gloating about how he's the champion scrounger of the universe, the sky turns dark and stones start falling.

WilyKat: Stones, my whiskers! These are boulders!

They don't even have whiskers. At least, not drawn ones.

In the end, this just turns into an advertisement for the Thunder Tank, complete with some rock music for the rock digging. It can protect Panthro from the rock storm! It can dig through rocks! It can dig out scrapped spaceships! It's only $99.99 at Kay Bee Toys!

After the ThunderCats are saved by the Cool Toy of the Week, which only makes a small appearance at the end of the episode, Tygra theorizes this storm could not be natural. They don't seem to investigate who or what caused it, and it never comes up again. It's actually not that clear if it was Mumm-Ra caused it, with only a very slight implication in the intro, though it would be a good guess. I'd imagine being able to summon ston, er boulder storms at will would be a good ability to use constantly.

Meanwhile, Lion-O and Snarf are doing another look in the nearby forest, though Snarf is only following Lion-O and warning him that he's straying too far from the camp. Lion-O shrugs him off, telling him to stay back if he's scared. Not even 5 seconds from his appearance in this episode, Snarf is already being told to stay back. Lion-O tells him he'd jump at his own shadow, and Snarf then proves it by doing just that, proving that he probably should stay back. Ah, the comic relief.

The next scene will try to add a little more to Snarf's character besides, "Snarf Snarf you shouldn't be doing this", and "Snarf Snarf I'm hungry": he can run around beasts that looked like they were just standing there and can cut vines with his teeth. The latter comes in handy when Lion-O falls into a hole. A very, very slippery hole, he says, giving us a hint that this is more than just something caused by a natural or Mumm-Ra-caused disaster.

Snarf tries his best to get him out of the hole, but Lion-O simply can't do it. Emphasis on "try", though not because of him. The hole is also really slippery, and Lion-O can't figure out why he can't. Both Snarf and Lion-O get lassoed multiple times by some mysterious strangers made partially of metal.

In the same year the cartoons based on the Droids and Ewoks from Star Wars came out, ThunderCats came up with a combination of the two. While they can seemingly speak English, they speak in the same manner as the computer from WarGames. Unfortunately, as he's lassoed up, he can't summon the ThunderCats because he can't grasp his sword. The episode even cuts to the other ThunderCats talking about how Lion-O must be okay because he didn't do that. Panthro justifies their lack of caring because...

Panthro: No sense worrying, he's a man now.

Did you forget what Tygra said in the last episode? Well, he did manage to defeat that Mumm-Ra guy once, so he must be okay. Of course, he isn't, as he ends up getting tied to a stake. Lion-O tries to communicate with them by calling them "whatever they are", and they say "Berbil." Berbil? They look more like bears to me. Cute little Care Bears...

...no, wait, sorry! Put that knife away! I'm also sorry I accidentally called you Bergins before I edited that post! I don't know why I did, I really didn't like Trolls! Honest!

No, just kidding, Ro-Bear-Bill, as he eventually names himself, uses that knife to cut the rope. Apparently, trapping people and tying them to stakes is their way of saying "hi". They really just went from "one step away from roasting him over an open fire" to "future friend" in just one minute. Then again, I can imagine Third Earth can do that to people, with those rock storms and all.

We get a brief glimpse of their home village, which look surprisingly similar to another 80's cartoon's village. For a desolate planet, these guys seem to be living okay. There's just one problem.

We eventually had to get some evil dog-men in this series about Thunderous Felines, but they're not going to fight the ThunderCats. Instead, they're going after the Ro-Bear's supply of food. The Ro-Bears do have a line of defense: stun bullets fired via little tubes, as if they’re pelting them with spitballs. They’re just as effective as that analogy sounds, as even they admit that it does nothing. Lion-O is not impressed by this.

Lion-O, in an attempt to finally do something about this constant struggle. They just run away after this. That was a really short battle, but Ro-Bear Bill seems to have an opinion that may not be mine.

Ro-Bear-Bill: My my! That certainly was exciting, Lion-O!

Whatever you say, Ro-Bear-Bill.

Ro-Bear Bill decides to tell Lion-O that they know why they have to steal the Berbil berries: because they have to give them to the Giantors, who will give them their food in exchange for the berries. Now, the Giantors will be angry! This is partially why I hate these kinds of lateral thinking puzzles, they suddenly bring in details they never talk about.

Also, are these guys 100% human? Sure, they're bigger and are probably more Homo Erectus than Sapien. I guess if there's mutant monkeys, as proven by Monkian, mutant humans shouldn't be too far off.

Lion-O uses the Sword of Omen's Sight Beyond Sight, and, sure enough, he sees that those Giantors are angry. They want those berries, dammit!

Lion-O: I can probably handle them myself!

Snarf: Snarf, snarf! No, please, call the other ThunderCats! (clasping his hands, praying he won't try to take on a bunch of giants by himself)

Lion-O: Well, okay, just to please you.

Even when Snarf has a decent idea, he has to be told off. He decides not to try to do it himself this time. I would like to think that even if Lion-O took care of the bad guys last time, he realized he really lucked out with a villain that hates reflections.

So the ThunderCats fight the Giantors, and it's better than the last episode's fight scenes. One of the moves involves Panthero looking like he's going to kick one of the Giantors right in the face, but he stops about an inch away. One more inch, and we'd have to invent FV long before the TV rating system even existed!

It eventually ends when Lion-O does that Sword of Omens barrier thing again, and the Giantors don't even try to see if their giant clubs can go through it. Ro-Bear Bill decides not to give a review of the fight he just saw, but does congratulate the ThunderCats for saving their village.

While it seems that the conflict of the episode is over, Mumm-Ra has to do something in this episode after doing that big speech in the beginning. Realizing the Berbils will give the ThunderCats food supply, he decides to attack the Berbils by transforming again. This time, he shows off that he can transform into a swarm of bugs that can also merge into a giant bug, a pretty creative idea. Lion-O fights this bug by riding it like it was one of those mechanical bulls. Either he actually said "yee-haw", or I just imagined it.

Definitely not worthy of a "yee-haw", at least from Lion-O's point of view: the bug then flies off and dissipates back into the swarm, dropping Lion-O into a volcano. Worst of all, the Sword of Omens, which definitely must have something that can help him out here, is just ever so slightly out of his reach. If only Tutorial Jaga was here!

Thankfully, Tutorial Jaga shows up again, this time in the familiar blue aura he usually has, to tell him yet another feature of the sword: it can be commanded to go right to Lion-O. This also allows it to fly, leading to a scene where Lion-O is flying out of a volcano, looking like he's being dragged out of there.

But what about Mumm-Ra? Sure, he could just go back and cause some more trouble, but he decided to give up here for some reason. He knows he failed, but he does tell himself, and the audience, that he should do better next time, and time is nothing to him.

In the end, Mumm-Ra just gives up, the ThunderCats are victorious, and the Ro-Bear Berbils give them a banquet to celebrate their saving of the town. They even offer to build the ThunderCats' real estate, which they find the blueprints of. The ThunderCats initially initially refuse, but they insist on building it. After all, friends help friends right after catching them in traps and tying them to a stake.

How does it stack up?

There is a little more world-building here that doesn't entirely revolve around exposition this time. I think I'll give this one a higher rating than the last, even if this does give it the same rating as the first episode. I mean, this is the one with the robotic Care Bear...

Ah! Fine, I'll give it four cats, put the knife away!

Next, those Mutants come back.

← The Unholy Alliance 🐯 The Slaves of Castle Plun-Darr →

[the-tales-of-horror]

The Marshmallow Man

Original Link By TheresaMay1617

This is a story that I still can't believe happened, it really shook me up as a kid and basically stole my childhood innocence . When it comes to story telling I haven't really done it before so please bear with me. This is a real story that actually happened and I'll just try to tell it the best I can remember it. I'm posting this here now as it's fresh in my memory because of something that happened recently, something I'll get into a bit later in my story. So here it goes.

So there was this character that used to come to the park we played at. As children we all just thought of him as a puffy, fluffy, white friendly blob at first.

Everyday me and my friends would go to this park after school. There was a group of around 10 of us, a close knit group, just doing the usual shit kids do. It was one day, just as the sun began to set, that we seen him, skipping along the path, coming right towards us. We couldn't believe our eyes but when your a kid you don't tend to overthink events like this too much. The world is pretty new and your frames of reference towards the normality of the world aren't too wide reaching.

He had a big wide smile with small beady, black eyes. He had a little blue hat and thunderous thighs. He had this white and blue striped scarf around what seemed to be a neckless frame. A large belly that seemed to wobble around with every step. He was earless, with large chubby round cheeks, a slight hint of red giving his cheery face a blush.

We watched this big funny character hop towards us, taking turns with each arm to wave at us as he did. We all just glanced at each other before bursting out into hysterics. We were all around 10 years old, and were well aware this was just some funny man in a costume. It wasn't anything that would be out of place at an amusement park. He approached us, letting his gestures speak for him, never speaking a word. I remember he would give us sweets, and perform these strange magic tricks. He had this high pitched laugh that made us all laugh at its absurdity. It was really squeaky, like a cartoon mouse or something.

There was this one trick he would do, which still baffles me to this day. He would eat his big white, puffy hand. Stuffing it into the crack of his grin. We would hear the sloppy chewing sounds, these also seemed over the top, just like everything else about him. He would slurp and burp, making us roar with laughter at his sound effects. He would then hold onto his belly and let out belching sounds, these were slightly deeper sounds which I do remember feeling slightly unnerved by the first time hearing it. I guess it was the shock of this friendly character actually sounding like a full grown man for once. Once his hand had fully disappeared he would spit it out into hundreds of edible marshmallows. We would laugh as we scrambled around picking them up and putting as much as we could fit into our mouths. Something I never really thought about then, but what had me thinking now is we literally watched him eat this hand from his suit. Several times in fact. You would see the teeth marks and we watched him the whole time. Maybe his suit was actually made of marshmallow.

This became a sort of regular occurance for a few weeks, we actually got to the point where we were just hanging around waiting, hoping, for an appearance from the marshmallow man. He was sort of becoming the highlight of our nights. We just loved the absurdity of it all and the free sweets were a bonus too.

One day though, he came, with this bag. It was a big plastic bag, some sort of novelty giant marshmallow bag. He giggled as he pointed at a friend of mine, Rich, and gestured him into the bag. We all laughed and egged him on to do it. How could we have known any better? We were kids and this was just some harmless, friendly, giant marshmallow.

Rich hopped into the bag and the marshmallow man pulled it up above him from the ground and zipped it up. We laughed for a couple of minutes until we could see Rich begin to panic. He started slapping at the bag from the inside.We began panicking ourselves as we pleaded with him to let rich out, we watched as rich began turning blue in the face. We watched as the marshmallow man giggled, his high pitch giggle, seeming far more sinister to us than before. Rich seemed to really be in danger. Me and my friends started trying to rip the bag open, but the marshmallow man began pushing us down with his belly, one by one. All we could do was watch as he grabbed his big giant marshmallow bag, ran down the path and hopped into his white van with the giant marshmallow sitting on the roof.

We ofcourse ran home after this. I remember running home to my parents house and frantically telling them what had happened. Floods of tears streaming down my face. They were bemused at first, kind of thinking I was making up stories or something. Putting it down to a typical child's imagination. I mean what would you think if your child came home and started telling you your friend was just captured by a giant marshmallow? It's just not something you immediately take seriously.

Eventually they realised I was being honest and they called the cops. The police took statements and things and one of them spoke to my parents while the other seemed to be kind of trying to cheer me up by talking about football and things. We never seen Rich again after that day and the marshmallow man was never caught as far as I'm aware. I've asked my parents about it a couple of times over the years and they've never heard anything from the police.

This all happened 25 years ago. I had basically put it out of my mind by now and was at a point where I never really thought about it until yesterday.

I had gotten up for work, and did my usual routine of showering, breakfast and picking up my mail. It was upon picking up my mail though that stopped me dead in my tracks. There was a bag, a bag of blue marshmallows. The brand. Rich's Marshmallows. The picture, that face. That exact same creepy smiley face of that marshmallow man. Almost mocking me as it sits under the name of my kidnapped childhood friend.

I don't know if this is some kind of sick fucking joke by one of my old friends from that day or if he has found me, tracked me down and coming for me. I've contacted them all through Facebook and only had a couple of replies so far, letting me know they don't know what I'm talking about. I've been contemplating whether or not to go to the cops with this but feel slightly embarrassed and unsure of what I could possibly say.

It's got me scared though, really scared. I almost feel 10 years old again. I am posting here in the hope someone out there knows something. I'll keep everyone updated if anything else happens, but I really hope and pray that it doesn't. I never want to see that big puffy white smile in person again.

[megaarfan]

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[allenmendezsr]

3 Day Craving Killer Protocol

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“Hi Nick, I just wanted to tell you that your ‘3 Day Craving Killer Protocol’ is nothing sort of miraculous! For 30 years (and about an extra 125 pounds) I have unsuccessfully battled sugar cravings…and now they have disappeared in 3 days. I have lived for years with a roaring monster in my head that was just getting worse and worse and now it is completely gone! Now, I obviously have not lost the 125 lb in 3 days, but now I know it will be possible, whereas before it was absolutely impossible. Thank you!” Tamar Pierce

It’s NOT For Lack of Willpower…

Something ELSE is Sabotaging You From the Inside…

And Getting Rid of It Will Kill Your Sugar Cravings FOR GOOD, Even if it Feels Like You’ve Tried EVERYTHING Else Before.

Does This Sound Like You?

 That after-lunch “3 o’clock dip” always ends up with you gorging on sugary junk food to satisfy your hunger and cravings…

 You’re a mentally strong person who still can’t beat your sugar cravings, no matter how hard you try…

 You feel weak, frustrated and angry at yourself when you can’t resist those sugary snacks…

It is NOT your fault…there IS hope…and I’m going to tell you why…

Before I tell you who said that, let me introduce myself really quick. That’s me in the picture below…my name is Nick Nilsson.

I’ve been in the fitness industry for more than 28 years and I’m known as the “Mad Scientist of Muscle” because of my innovative, science-based approaches to exercise, health and fitness. I’ve helped THOUSANDS of people over the years and now I want to help YOU fix your sugar cravings.

It can be done quickly and easily, without relying on willpower.

In my experience, beating sugar cravings is what I call a “Keystone Behavior“…meaning that once you address that one thing, pretty much everything else will just fall into place.

Suddenly you’re able to stick a diet…and then you actually feel like exercising because you’re not dragging from a sugar crash…and then the weight just seems to come off like magic because you’re not eating all those extra “in-the-closet” calories in the form of sugar.

I’m constantly searching for and testing new ways to help people just like you improve their lives through exercise and good nutrition.

This story isn’t about me, though…

Her name was Karen. She was a young mother in her mid-30’s with a terrible sweet tooth…and it was making her life miserable. I knew Karen from when I was growing up in my home town.

One day, out of the blue, I ran into her at the grocery store when I was home visiting family.

Karen was desperate. She had two young kids… she was 30 pounds overweight… she had high blood-pressure… and she was starting to show signs of being pre-Diabetic.

She was terrified not only of her own health and future, she was terrified for the future of her kids and THEIR health and future if she couldn’t figure this out. She was worried sick that her health problems would set THEM up for failure, too.

Knowing I was a trainer, she parked her cart squarely in front of mine and said “Nick, I need help…like SERIOUS help for real. I feel fat, I’m unhealthy, and I feel so tired and depressed all the time. I can’t seem to stop eating this sugary crap and it’s just killing me.“

Now, a lot of the time when people find out I’m a trainer, they make small talk about how they “need to lose a few pounds” as they pat their stomach. I offer to give them some tips and they smile and nod and nothing ever happens.

This was different. I could tell this was real.

Before I could say a word, she broke down and started crying in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“Karen, let me see if I can help.” I said. “What’s going on?” I had always seen her as a strong, confident person growing up. Nothing ever seemed to bother her. Heck, even now, she owned her own small business and had 6 employees working for her.

“I don’t know what to do. This is literally killing me. I feel like I’m out of control and nothing I do seems to help. I feel like I’ve tried everything.” she said.

I looked at her and said “Let’s start from the beginning. What’s killing you?”

“I can’t stop eating sugar…desserts, sugary cereal, candy, chocolate…you name it. I’ve tried going on diets. I’ve tried juice cleanses. I’ve tried not having any in the house…then people just bring stuff to work and I can’t stop myself. I just keep gaining weight. I’m so depressed. My health is in the toilet and it seems like it’s getting worse by the day. I just don’t know what to do.”

Karen looked at me sadly and continued. “I mean, I don’t think of myself as a weak person. I’ve achieved so many goals that I’ve set for myself. I graduated with a degree in marketing and I started a business. It’s crushing me that I can’t stop eating sugar. No matter how much willpower I think I have, and no matter how hard I try to stop, the cravings always win.”

I said to Karen, who was just staring at the floor at this point, “Let’s go over to the coffee shop. I’ve got something for you that can help.”

She raised her head and looked at me like she was drowning and I had just thrown her a lifeline. There was hope in her eyes.

We went and sat down and I said to her “If you’re going to rely on willpower alone to stop eating sugar, you’re always going to fail.“

Karen looked at me angrily…”I thought you said you had something that could help.” She got up to leave.

“Wait!” I said quickly. “Just a second! I didn’t mean it like that! Let me tell you what I’m talking about…”

“Relying on Willpower Alone is USELESS For Beating Sugar Cravings.”

I could see this concept was a big shock to her. Her face looked all skeptical and suspicious like I had just said something insane. I could understand where she was coming from. We get it drilled into our heads from a young age that “you can achieve anything when you put your mind to it.”

That’s actually NOT true…and this false statement can be incredibly damaging and disheartening when you CAN’T seem to achieve what you want to achieve, even when you put your mind to it. You feel like a colossal failure.

“Karen,” I said. “I want you to think of willpower like gas in the tank of your car.”

She looked confused.

“Bear with me…let’s say you start each day with a full tank of ‘willpower gas’. And you only have a limited amount of it in your tank per day.”

“Every time you use your willpower to say ‘no’ to a sugary food, you use up some of that gas. Small ‘no’s’, like a little piece of candy on your desk use up only a little of that gas. BIG ‘no’s’, like somebody bringing in an amazing-looking birthday cake to the office use up a LOT of that gas…sometimes all the gas you’ve got, and you give in.”

“You mean willpower is a resource that we can use up?”

“Exactly.”

“And when my willpower gas runs low, I give in to cravings more easily?”

“Exactly. There’s a been a ton of research on this by scientists.” [1,2,3,4]

“The Best Way To Avoid Temptation Is To Just Not Be Tempted In The First Place.”

She paused for a second, mulling this over.

I continued… “Think of something that you like but yet still holds absolutely no temptation for you…like an apple, for example. You’d eat an apple but you don’t have to use any willpower at all NOT to eat an apple, right?”

“Yep.” she said. “I like apples, but they don’t tempt me like a donut would. Great, now I want a donut.”

“What I’m going to show you will allow you look at donuts like you look at apples… without temptation… and take back CONTROL of what you put in your mouth.”

She looked at me, getting even more angry “Did you just call me fat?”

“No, definitely no! Let me start over.”

She still looked suspicious but stayed in her seat.

“Your intestinal tract is also known as your gut. Just forget the other meaning for now.”

“In your gut, you have a huge amount of bacteria…some friendly…some not so friendly. These bacteria play a critical role in digestion.” I could see her starting to glaze over…I was losing her and I had to get to the point.

“The bacteria in your gut are incredibly specialized and some of them specialize in digesting SUGAR.” [5,6,7,8]

She sat up in her chair.

“Go on…” she said. That had gotten her attention.

I kept going. “You see, specific strains of bacteria, grow and flourish based on the foods you eat. Over time, the more you eat specific foods, the more you feed those specific types of bacteria.”

“You’ve been feeding your ‘sugar bugs’ and they’ve gotten very strong and very numerous…you’ve got BILLIONS and BILLIONS of them inside you right now.”

She was leaning forward in her chair now. It was time to deliver the REALLY eye-opening information…

“Your ‘Second Brain’ is Sabotaging Your Eating Without You Even Knowing It.”

I looked at her and said…”If you thought having ‘sugar bugs’ in your gut was strange, just wait til you hear the next part.”

I paused for effect, smiling…until she kicked me really hard under the table.

“Get to it!”

“Okay, okay….sorry, I coudn’t resist bringing a little drama in there.”

I grabbed a napkin from the dispenser and started drawing.

“I know this will sound weird but the bacteria in your gut form what is often called a ‘second brain.’ Now, it’s not an ACTUAL brain and it doesn’t think in the sense that we think and reason.”

“It reacts to what you feed it…or don’t feed it…and it can very strongly affect your thoughts, your attitudes and… you guessed it… your CRAVINGS.” [9]

She was starting to see where I was going with this and was nodding slowly.

“This sounds a lot like science fiction, to be sure. However, it’s the REAL reason why your sugar cravings often seem like they’re beyond your conscious control…. Quite simply, it’s because they ARE.”

I grabbed my phone and pulled up a cartoon that I had found when I was reading about this topic.

“Does this seem familiar?…”

She looked at the cartoon for a moment…then a moment longer…then she just looked mortified.

“That’s EXACTLY what I do… almost every single night on the couch with my husband. He’s pretty much given up on trying to keep sweets away from me. He doesn’t even try anymore and I don’t know whether to be angry at him for not helping me or feel sorry for him because of how I act when he tries to.”

I looked at her, nodding my head. It was tough to see her being so hard on herself when I knew the REAL reason it was happening.

“Well…hold your head up…here’s the REALLY mind-blowing part.”

“Those bacteria…those ‘bugs’ in your gut can actually secrete chemicals called ‘neurotransmitter analogs.’ And these ‘bug’ chemicals can mimic the chemicals in your ACTUAL brain, which are called neurotransmitters, like the ones that cause feelings of happiness or sadness…feelings of well-being or depression. It’s technically called the ‘gut-brain axis.'” [10,11,12]

“They can even secrete hormones that also affect your mood…for better or for worse.” [13,14]

She looked down at the table for a moment then sat back in her chair.

“Wait…so you’re saying that these bugs in my gut can affect how I think and how I feel? They can make me feel happy or cranky?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying…and it doesn’t end there.” I said. “Just wait til you hear the next part…”

The moment I spoke the words, I could see the wheels turning in her head. This was the moment I was waiting for.

She leaned back even more in her chair and looked up at the ceiling for a few seconds, mulling that statement over.

“Are you being serious?” she finally said quietly, looking back over at me.

“Very serious.” I replied. “Bad gut bacteria can literally MAKE YOU WANT TO EAT, even when you’re not really hungry. They do this by faking out your satiety hormones, meaning the hormones that make you feel full. The little monsters, and remember, there are a LOT of them in you based on what you’ve been feeding them, are just trying to get more food for themselves, while YOU end up paying the price.” [15,16]

I looked over at the sugary children’s cereals in her grocery cart.

“You have kids, right?”

She nodded…”Yep, a boy and a girl, 3 and 5 years old.”

“Then you will TOTALLY understand this next part…”

“Cravings Are The ‘Toy Store Tantrums’ of Bad Bacteria”

She got a pained look on her face when she heard this.

“I’ve seen more than my share of those.” she sighed. “But what does that have to do with bacteria and cravings?”

“When those sugar-eating bacteria don’t get sugar to eat, they start to get really, really cranky…and hungry…and they start to die. When that happens, they ‘scream’, for lack of a better word. And those screams are in the form of the ‘craving’ chemicals I mentioned before…and they release chemicals that make you feel like crap…until you feed them again.” [17,18]

She nodded…”Like when my kids fall on the floor in the toy store and start freaking out all over the place because they want something and I won’t get it for them. It makes me feel like a terrible mother and sometimes I give in, just so I don’t have to deal with it.”

“Exactly.”

I grabbed another napkin and started drawing…

“The more you starve them, the louder and stronger they scream. That’s why when you go on a strict diet and cut out all sugar, the cravings get worse and worse and are harder and harder to resist.”

“It’s not because you’re weak-willed. It’s because those sugar-eating bacteria are literally starving and they’re screaming for food. It’s incredibly hard to resist when your ‘second brain’ is screaming like that.”

There’s one more thing you NEED to know…and it’s about your KIDS.”

“What about my kids?” she said, concern spreading across her face.

“These ‘bad’ bacteria are contagious, for lack of a better word. People that live in the same house share substantial amounts of gut bacteria with each other.” [19]

Her face went pale.

“You mean those stupid craving bugs in MY gut are setting up my KIDS to have a sugar addiction, too?”

I nodded slowly. I hadn’t want to scare her with this but sometimes when people won’t do something for themselves, they’ll do it for their kids. This could be a breakthrough moment for her to really take action and make a change in her life, and set her kids up for success, too.

I looked at her and said “That’s actually the easy part… however, it’s not as simple as just killing those ‘bad’ bacteria. We also need to make sure they don’t just regrow and your cravings don’t come right back.”

I continued, “Let me give you a little background so you can really see why we need to do it the way we’re going to do it.”

“This is how we’re going get rid of your cravings for GOOD and put you back in control of your life.”

She looked visibly relieved, like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“When you go on a diet, the first few days are pretty easy, right? Your willpower is strong and you can keep a good handle on what you’re eating. The cravings don’t give you any problems. This is because those ‘bad’ bacteria haven’t started dying yet. You’re still in control.”

“As you start getting later into the first week and into the second week, things get a bit tougher. You’re not eating sugar and those bacteria start getting cranky. Those cravings are starting to kick in.”

“It starts getting miserable FAST and suddenly, you don’t feel in control anymore. You’re ready to give in to the slightest temptation. You’ve used up all your willpower, like we were talking about before.”

Days 1-3

No cravings…this is easy.

Days 4-9

A few cravings…getting tougher.

Day 10+

These cravings are horrible!

ENOUGH!

I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!

Karen was nodding her head in agreement with this part.

“That’s me. I’ve been there so many times. I’ve started so many diets only to crash and burn just a week or two in. I just can’t seem to get past that roadblock and it just kills me. I feel so weak, like I can’t accomplish anything. It just seems so simple but it’s just so hard when it comes right down to it.”

“Honestly, Even Without the Protocol That I’m Going to Show You, If You Can Get Through 4 to 6 Weeks Without Eating Any Sugar, You’ll Be Fine.”

“Those ‘bad’ bacteria will die on their own and you can replace them with ‘good’ bacteria by eating the right foods. This will just happen on it’s own.”

She looked at me like I was nuts.

“Have you met me? I can’t even make it 4 to 6 days and you want me to get through 4 to 6 WEEKS?”

“Yep, that’s the whole problem. I just didn’t want to give you the impression that this is something that can’t happen naturally without the protocol I’m going to show you. It CAN. But it takes a LONG time…during which you’ll have plenty of opportunity to backslide, eat sugar, and have to start from scratch again.”

“So every time I give in to my cravings, it resets that 4 to 6 week clock?”

I nodded. “Exactly. That’s what makes it so hard to do this on your own, without help. It CAN be done, but it ain’t easy.”

“So how long does it take with your protocol?” she asked.

Her jaw fell open and just kind of hung there.

“Three days?”

“Just to be up front, though, it COULD take a few rounds through of the protocol, depending on how many of those ‘bad’ bacteria you’ve got in your gut. Sometimes you need to work them over a bit more to really knock them down for good. That first round will make it a whole lot easier to resist those cravings, though. They won’t be nearly as strong.”

“And once I do this protocol then I won’t have these horrible cravings anymore?”

“Yep. That’s exactly right. You’ll be back in control.”

“What Do I Need to Do To Get Started? I’m So Ready.”

I pulled out another napkin and drew out a table with a 3 X 4 grid on it.

“You’re going to need three supplements to do this protocol.”

She grabbed my arm and said “Hey wait, you didn’t say anything about taking pills. I know you’re into vitamins and protein and all that for your workouts but I thought all that stuff was baloney. What do I need supplements for?”

I looked at her for a moment. “Don’t freak out…there’s nothing crazy about these supplements.” I said.

“Okay…” she said with a sigh, letting go of my arm… “Tell me what they are. I believe you. I just don’t know anything about that stuff so I’ve always been skeptical.”

I said “I can understand where you’re coming from. And don’t worry…there’s nothing harmful or crazy in these supplements. These are very well-researched supplements…completely natural and PROVEN effective. I’d never have you take anything bad. I’ve been using them myself for years.”

“When you use these three supplements in the right combination and with the right timing, those bad ‘sugar-eating’ bacteria don’t stand a chance.”

I finished sketching out the table and wrote down the names of the three supplements on the napkin…

“Just get these three things and follow the protocol on this napkin. Call me in a month and let me know how it goes.”

“Absolutely.” I said. “In fact, I have a neighbor back where I live who asked me about this exact thing not long ago. He talked to me after he had gotten back from a doctor’s appointment and they told him that he needed to lose weight and that his testosterone was in the tank…down to that of an 80 year old man… and he’s just 42. He was mortified…didn’t even want to tell his wife.”

“He had a HORRIBLE sweet tooth. He couldn’t walk away from a donut to save his life. I put him on this protocol about 3 months ago.”

“Did the protocol work for him?” she asked. “That sounds like my husband…he always gets into the cookies before I can even put away the rest of the groceries. The doctor told him he needs to lose weight, too, but every time he tries, he just keeps going back to his old patterns.”

“You’ll notice I said he HAD a horrible sweet tooth…”

She stopped and looked at me for a moment…a slow smile spreading across her face.

“Ah, I see what you did there… he is pretty skeptical of stuff like this, though.”

“I’d say give this protocol a try yourself first, so you can show him that it can be done. When he sees how you’re doing, it won’t take much convincing to get him to try it, too.”

The phone rang…

“I Can’t Believe It…My Cravings are GONE. I Can Watch My Kids Eat Dessert And I Don’t Feel Like I Have to Have Any. This is Incredible!”

Those were the first words bursting out of Karen’s mouth when I answered my phone.

“Hello to you, too…” I said with a smile.

She continued, totally ignoring me… “I actually don’t feel like I have to have sugary treats anymore. I can go out for dinner and skip dessert. People can bring sweets into work and I can just look at them and think ‘hmm, I don’t think I want any of those.’ This is unbelievable.”

“Here’s the coolest thing, though…I actually DID have a chocolate chip cookie the other day…ONE chocolate chip cookie.”

“Ok…” I began…

“You Don’t Understand…I’ve NEVER Been Able to Eat Just ONE Chocolate Chip Cookie Before…”

“Every time I would have a cookie, I’d end up eating half the bag…or sometimes the WHOLE bag. This time, I just had one and said to myself ‘that’s enough.’ I’ve never had that kind of self-control before. I can’t believe this. I’ve already dropped 5 pounds without even really trying. This is amazing.”

“So I’m a genius then?” I asked.

I could hear her eyes rolling even through the phone line.

“Yes, you’re a genius.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Hey, have you told anybody else about this protocol yet? Because if not, you need to. This could help a LOT of people. I know a couple of my friends have asked me what I’ve been doing when they see me not eating the sugary snacks I used to stuff myself with. I tried to explain it to them but they couldn’t quite get past the ‘bugs in their gut’ thing. You explained it so much better to me. My husband wants to try it now, too. This is awesome.”

Now Karen knew I was a long-time fitness author so it wasn’t a stretch for her to tell me to write a book on this. Heck, I’ve been a personal trainer and well-known fitness writer for more than 25 years. Coming up with unique, science-based workout and nutritional methods like this and then writing about them is exactly what I do.

She continued…

“Don’t make it all big and fancy and complicated, though. Those kind of sciencey books are terrible. I try and read them but I get so bored that I stop and then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“That I can understand.” I responded. “I can’t stand those kind of books, either. I much prefer a book that gives you enough info so that you know exactly what you’re doing but not so much that you get overwhelmed and don’t do anything with it.”

She wasn’t done yet…

“And PLEASE don’t make it all long-winded with 40 million chapters. Just get to the point. I have kids that run me around like crazy. I don’t have time to sit and read a big, long book. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

My mind was in overdrive…

I LOVED the idea of writing a book on this method. It had to be something that explained the whole protocol without getting bogged down in too much scientific detail…while still providing enough real scientific evidence to show how it worked and that it DID work.

“If you can make it an ebook, that would be perfect. I don’t want to wait forever to get something in the mail. I want something I can read right away on my phone, my tablet or my computer so I can get started FAST.”

I was totally on board with this. While I like a physical book that I can hold in my hands for some things, this type of manual is perfectly suited to an ebook format. It gets delivered instantly so there’s no waiting for something to get sent in the mail. Help is on the way NOW.

“And make sure you tell people exactly what supplement brands to use. I had no idea about any of that.”

She was right on the money with that.

Having been at this more than 25 years, I’ve tried a LOT of supplements…some of them great, some of them garbage. I know exactly what to look for in a quality supplement…and I know which brands are the best and which are crap.

“The stuff you recommended to me worked GREAT. Tell everybody to use what I used so they know it’ll work.”

“Anything else, your majesty?” I joked.

There was a pause on the other end of the line as she totally ignored my awesome joke…then she continued…

“Listen…I’ve gotta run but thank you for this. Seriously. I was about ready to give up and just let myself go. I feel back in control now. This really did the trick for me. Hurry up and write that book!”

And with that, she hung up.

It’s short…to the point…and tells you EXACTLY what you need to do to kill your sugar cravings FAST. No fluff. No filler. Nothing you don’t need to know to get RESULTS…FAST.

You’re going to finally understand WHY you haven’t been able to beat your sugar cravings and, even better, you’re now going to know exactly how to KILL your cravings for good.

Don’t just take my word for it…read through these success stories of people who have used the 3-Day Craving Killer Protocol with GREAT results. And while you’re reading them, keep in mind… THESE are the kind of results that YOU can get, too, when you use the protocol.

“For 30 years I unsuccessfully battled sugar cravings and now they have disappeared in 3 days.”

Hi Nick,

I just wanted to tell you that your 3 Day Craving Killer Protocol is nothing sort of miraculous! For 30 years (and about 125 pounds) I have unsuccessfully battled sugar/carb cravings and now they have disappeared in 3 days. I have lived for years with a roaring monster in my head (I guess it was actually in my gut) that was just getting worse and worse and now it is completely gone! Now, I obviously have not also lost the 125 lb in 3 days, but now I know it will be possible, whereas before it was absolutely impossible.

Truly the best money I have ever spent!

Tamar Pierce

“I can’t believe my good fortune…and I’m grateful.  Nearly 20 pounds gone.”

“Hey, Nick,

I wanted to give you an update of how the Protocol is working for me.  Starting exactly 6 weeks ago (today is the anniversary), I used your Protocol for a week. It did the trick. Today, I weigh 16 pounds less. I was in a 50lb hole, resulting from two years of stress and misery. But now I only have 34 more pounds to lose before I’m back to where I had left off.

Pretty sure I’ve lost more than 16 pounds of fat, though, because I’ve been adding muscle with near-daily strength training.  I’m getting stronger. Things are rapidly getting easier. 

Words can’t even get close to describing the despair and addiction I had been feeling for a prolonged period of time leading up to the Protocol.  I can’t believe my good fortune…and I’m grateful.  Nearly 20 pounds gone.  I’m back in my size 8 jeans.  Six short weeks ago, I was wearing 16.  I had all but given up on myself and was truly at my wits end.

Thank you so much for this!!”

– Tamira H.

“I still enjoy sweets, but no longer REALLY want them. When I start eating them it’s so easy to set them down and let them go.”

“Gratitude Time… I want to thank Nick Nilsson for his 3-Day Craving Killer program.

I’ve always had a pretty easy relationship with sugar and sweet things. I eat them when I crave them, but don’t when the craving isn’t there, BUT once I start eating sweets I usually want to demolish large quantities. I’ve done low and no sugar programs before, but it usually takes WEEKS to lose that craving and pull from sugar and sweets.

This time was different, just as Nick promises the cravings go away within 2-3 days. I still enjoy sweets, but no longer REALLY want them. When I start eating them it’s so easy to set them down and let them go.

This program is a “Game Changer”, and I cannot recommend it enough! It’s been huge for me, and I cannot imagine what an awesome option this would be who really struggles with sugar or sweet cravings. Thank you again, Nick, for all the work you put into this amazing program!”

– Bryndon Preston

“I could watch everyone else eat cookies or candy, and it didn’t bother me.”

“I really wanted to get rid of the refined sugar in my life. Cookies, candy, muffins… it seems like this stuff is everywhere and I could make it a few days, but then always caved and gave in to my cravings. That’s when Nick asked if anyone wanted to test his new protocol. It sounded perfect!

I did the three day protocol followed by the “off” period. Then I repeated another three days of the protocol and another week of the “off” period.

The protocol helped me to completely ignore the sugar and sweets I was trying to avoid. Since I have kids, it’s impossible for there to be NOTHING sweet in the house, so I was able to follow the protocol and not change how we were cooking/eating etc.

Another “vice” I had been trying to kick is the occasional diet soda. About three weeks after I first started the protocol I was picking out “treats” with my kids and thought “Maybe I’ll just have this one Coke Zero…as my treat… since I’ve been doing really great…” I can honestly tell you, I had two sips of the thing and then DUMPED IT OUT when I got home… my tastebuds had completely changed and it tasted disgusting. A few weeks later, I wondered if that was a fluke or I got a weird pop or something? Dumped the second diet pop. Haven’t had one since.

Overall the protocol was a huge success for me. I knew I needed some help to get past the cravings, and this did the trick! The best part is that I didn’t have to model any kind of crazy diet in front of my kids, or really change much around mealtimes. I could watch everyone else eat cookies or candy, and it didn’t bother me.”

– Beth Fox

Yep, for real. Ten bucks. Cheaper than a bag of cookies and a donut.

Why so cheap?

Simple.

I want to get the POWER of this protocol into the hands of as many people who need it as possible. If you have issues with sugar, this information can be as life-changing for YOU as it was for Karen.

She took back control of her life…you can, too.

Get Your Copy of The 3-Day Craving Killer Protocol Now!

Now Just So You Know… The Price is NOT Going to be Suddenly Going Up Without Warning.

A Clock IS Ticking, Though… And It’s the One INSIDE You…

Every day you can’t control your eating is a day you move in an unhealthy direction….closer to facing serious health problems like…

Diabetes

Obesity

Heart Disease

High Blood Pressure

You may even HAVE one or more of those issues already.

When you gain control of your eating, you gain control of your health. That’s truly the bottom line.

I want you to feel the FREEDOM of…

looking at a piece of pie without feeling like you HAVE to have it.

walking into an office birthday party and saying “no, thank you” when offered a piece of cake.

baking chocolate chip cookies for your kids and not eating half of them yourself (the cookies, not the kids ;).

knowing that you are IN CONTROL of what goes in your mouth…NOT the sugar.

And, I know this a bit of tough love, but if that feeling of freedom and gaining that control over your eating is not worth 10 bucks to you…well… you can always go spend that 10 bucks on another bag of cookies and keep doing what you’re doing.

It’s time to TAKE CONTROL of what you eat.

This Protocol WORKS Or You Get Your Money Back. You’ll Have a Full 60 DAYS to Test It Out and SEE the Results for Yourself.

I stand behind this protocol 100%.

I’ve researched it thoroughly…I’ve tested it on myself (yes, I HAD sugar cravings, too, even as a longtime fitness trainer)…and I’ve tested it on people just like YOU.

It works.

Buy it now…get the supplements…use the protocol.

And if you don’t feel it helped destroy your cravings FAST, I’ll give you a prompt and courteous refund…no questions asked.

1. Do I really need to take supplements for this protocol? Can’t I do it with just food?

Answer: You DO need supplements for this. The protocol itself consists of a specific schedule of taking 3 separate supplements…food won’t get the job done quickly enough to have the impact we’re looking for. This is WAR on the “bad” bacteria.

You CAN eliminate or reduce sugar cravings by not eating sugar for about 4-6 weeks. Those bacteria will die off eventually. This supplement protocol helps you do it MUCH faster so you don’t have to rely on willpower to avoid temptation. In the Protocol, I tell you which foods can help you maintain the “good” bacteria in the gut very effectively, if you no longer wish to keep taking the supplements.

2. What if I still have cravings after going through the 3-day protocol once?

Answer: That can happen, especially if you have strong cravings and a lot of “sugar-eating” bacteria. Just repeat the protocol again the following week (or weeks), until you no longer have those cravings.

3. Will sugary foods taste bad to me after I do this?

Answer: Not at all. This protocol doesn’t affect the taste of foods whatsoever. You can still eat the sugary snacks you enjoy. I don’t want to take away your enjoyment of food! What I DO want to do is give you CONTROL over your eating so you don’t feel you HAVE to eat those sugary snacks. They will taste just as good…you’ll just find you don’t want them as much anymore and they won’t drive your behavior.

4. I’m a stress eater. What if I fall off the wagon when something really stressful happens and I start eating a lot of sugary foods again? Will all this have been for nothing?

Answer: Life happens. Sometimes you get stressed and it goes beyond just “gut bacteria.” Those sugary foods can be a comfort to you mentally. I can understand that. We’re all human. While this protocol doesn’t address any underlying psychological issues with food, it can absolutely help blunt the physical craving you might feel for sugary items. The beauty of this protocol is that it puts YOU in control. Just do it again for one or more rounds and you’ll be right back in business. No problem at all.

5. Will this mess up my digestion? How many times can I do it?

Answer: In all honesty, your digestion is likely going to feel better than it’s ever felt in your entire life. The protocol works by selectively bringing down your “bad” bacteria, which can cause digestive problems, while bring up your “good” bacteria, which make digestion better. And you can use it regularly…as long as you complete the FULL protocol and make to replenish the “good” bacteria after you bring down the “bad” bacteria.

6. Can I use this protocol if I have digestive issues like Irritable Bowel Syndrome or Crohn’s Disease?

Answer: If you’re affected by any of these issues, I would HIGHLY recommend (and insist, to be frank), that you check with your doctor before doing this protocol. It’s perfectly safe, but not being a doctor myself, I can’t tell you how it will affect YOU and YOUR system. This is something you NEED to do. Show them the references in the book and make sure they understand what you’re trying to accomplish and why.

7. I’ve heard Candida can also cause sugar cravings. Does this protocol address Candida overgrowth as well?

Answer: It does. You are correct that Candida can also cause sugar cravings. Candida albicans is a form of invasive, opportunistic yeast and it needs sugar to survive and grow. When you don’t eat enough sugar to feed the Candida, it can lead to cravings, similar to what happens with the “bad” bacteria.

The supplement that I recommend in the book for targeting the “bad” bacteria has also been proven in research to kill Candida as well. As the Candida dies, it can release toxic byproducts into your system, so you may find you feel worse after doing it. The way the protocol is structured, though, we don’t try and kill it all at once. We kill some of it then give your body time to clear the waste products out before killing more of it again. This makes the process much more gentle and easier on you than a massive “cleanse” of Candida all at once.

8. Are there any limitations on who can use this? Does this work for men and women? Older adults or kids?

Answer: This works GREAT for both men and women…our digestive systems are exactly the same. Beyond testing this protocol on myself, I’ve had a number of men use it with great success.

Older adults will likely find this helps tremendously with sugar cravings AND overall digestion. In terms of using this protocol with children, while I have not tested it in anybody younger than 18 years old, using smaller doses of the supplements shouldn’t present any problems at all. All three supplements have a long history of safety. To be sure, always speak with the child’s doctor before using anything like this.

9. Do I have to use the supplement brands you recommend in the book?

Answer: Nope. I do highly recommend these specific brands of the three supplements because these are the brands I use myself and I KNOW they work. If you want to get other brands of the three supplements at your local health food store, you can very likely find them all there. I just can’t vouch for the quality and effectiveness of whatever they have in stock…and there can often be BIG difference in quality.

(And just FYI, you will still get that full 60-day money-back guarantee, even if you don’t use the ones I recommend!)

Is what I’m doing right now working?…

Or is it time to try a new approach that’s PROVEN to work in a matter of DAYS.

Grab Your Copy of The 3-Day Craving Killer Protocol Now for Just 10 Bucks!

If you’re interested in the science behind this information, here’s what all those little numbers beside some of the sentences above mean. This is a list of scientific references that support what you just read. The 3-Day Craving Killer Protocol is for real. It’s completely science-based and it flat-out WORKS.

[1.] Baumeister, et al. (1998). Ego depletion: is the active self a limited resource?  Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 74, 1252-1265.

[2.] Baumeister, et al. (2007). The strength model of self-control. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 16, 351-355.

[3.] Gailliot, M., et al. (2007). Self-control relies on glucose as a limited energy source: willpower is more than a metaphor. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 92, 325-336.

[4.] Inzlicht, M., & Gutsell, J. (2007). Running on empty: neural signals for self-control failure. Psychological Science, 18, 933-937.

[5.] Gonzalez-Rodriguez I, Ruiz L, Gueimonde M, Margolles A. (2013). Factors involved in the colonization and survival of bifidobacteria in the gastrointestinal tract, FEMS Microbiology Letters, Volume 340, Issue 1, 1 March 2013, Pages 1–10,

[6.] Wu GD, Chen J, Hoffmann C, Bittinger K, et al. (2011. Linking long-term dietary patterns with gut microbial enterotypes, Science  07 Oct 2011: Vol. 334, Issue 6052, pp. 105-108

[7.] Walter J, Ley R, (2011). The human gut microbiome: ecology and recent evolutionary changes, Annual Review of Microbiology, Vol. 65:411-429 (Volume publication date October 2011) 

[8.] Rezzi S, Ramadan Z, Martin FP, Fay LB, (2007). Human metabolic phenotypes link directly to specific dietary preferences in healthy individuals, J. Proteome Res., 2007, 6 (11), pp 4469–4477

[9.] Rogers PJ, Smit HJ, (2000). Food craving and food “addiction”: a critical review of the evidence from a biopsychosocial perspective, Pharmacology Biochemistry and Behavior, Volume 66, Issue 1, May 2000, Pages 3-14

[10.] Barrett E, et al. (2014). γ-Aminobutyric acid production by culturable bacteria from the human intestine. J Appl Microbiol. 2014 May;116(5):1384-6.

[11.] Collins S, Surette M & Bercik P, (2012). The interplay between the intestinal microbiota and the brain. Nature Reviews Microbiology 10, 735-742 (November 2012)

[12.] Bercik P, Collins S, Verdu E, (2012). Microbes and the gut-brain axis. Neurogastroenterology and Motility, 8 March 2012

[13.] Lyte M, (2011). Probiotics function mechanistically as delivery vehicles for neuroactive compounds: Microbial endocrinology in the design and use of probiotics. Bioessays, 6 July 2011

[14.] Clarke G, et al. (2014). Minireview: Gut Microbiota: The Neglected Endocrine Organ. Molecular Endocrinology, Volume 28, Issue 8, 1 August 2014, Pages 1221–1238

[15.] Fetissov S, et al. (2008). Autoantibodies against appetite-regulating peptide hormones and neuropeptides: Putative modulation by gut microflora. Nutrition. April 2008 Volume 24, Issue 4, Pages 348–359

[16.] Yadav H, et al. (2013). Beneficial Metabolic Effects of a Probiotic via Butyrate-induced GLP-1 Hormone Secretion. The Journal of Biological Chemistry, July 2013, 288, 25088-25097

[17.] Chiu I, et al. (2013). Bacteria activate sensory neurons that modulate pain and inflammation. Nature, September 2013, 501, 52–57

[18.] Chen C, Pande K, French SD, Tuch BB , et al. (2011). An iron homeostasis regulatory circuit with reciprocal roles in Candida albicans commensalism and pathogenesis. Cell Host Microbe 10 : 118–35.

[19.] Song SJ, Lauber C, Costello EK, Lozupone CA, et al, (2013). Cohabiting family members share microbiota with one another and with their dogs, eLife, April 2013

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The Marshmallow Man by TheresaMay1617

This is a story that I still can't believe happened, it really shook me up as a kid and basically stole my childhood innocence . When it comes to story telling I haven't really done it before so please bear with me. This is a real story that actually happened and I'll just try to tell it the best I can remember it. I'm posting this here now as it's fresh in my memory because of something that happened recently, something I'll get into a bit later in my story. So here it goes.

So there was this character that used to come to the park we played at. As children we all just thought of him as a puffy, fluffy, white friendly blob at first.

Everyday me and my friends would go to this park after school. There was a group of around 10 of us, a close knit group, just doing the usual shit kids do. It was one day, just as the sun began to set, that we seen him, skipping along the path, coming right towards us. We couldn't believe our eyes but when your a kid you don't tend to overthink events like this too much. The world is pretty new and your frames of reference towards the normality of the world aren't too wide reaching.

He had a big wide smile with small beady, black eyes. He had a little blue hat and thunderous thighs. He had this white and blue striped scarf around what seemed to be a neckless frame. A large belly that seemed to wobble around with every step. He was earless, with large chubby round cheeks, a slight hint of red giving his cheery face a blush.

We watched this big funny character hop towards us, taking turns with each arm to wave at us as he did. We all just glanced at each other before bursting out into hysterics. We were all around 10 years old, and were well aware this was just some funny man in a costume. It wasn't anything that would be out of place at an amusement park. He approached us, letting his gestures speak for him, never speaking a word. I remember he would give us sweets, and perform these strange magic tricks. He had this high pitched laugh that made us all laugh at its absurdity. It was really squeaky, like a cartoon mouse or something.

There was this one trick he would do, which still baffles me to this day. He would eat his big white, puffy hand. Stuffing it into the crack of his grin. We would hear the sloppy chewing sounds, these also seemed over the top, just like everything else about him. He would slurp and burp, making us roar with laughter at his sound effects. He would then hold onto his belly and let out belching sounds, these were slightly deeper sounds which I do remember feeling slightly unnerved by the first time hearing it. I guess it was the shock of this friendly character actually sounding like a full grown man for once. Once his hand had fully disappeared he would spit it out into hundreds of edible marshmallows. We would laugh as we scrambled around picking them up and putting as much as we could fit into our mouths. Something I never really thought about then, but what had me thinking now is we literally watched him eat this hand from his suit. Several times in fact. You would see the teeth marks and we watched him the whole time. Maybe his suit was actually made of marshmallow.

This became a sort of regular occurance for a few weeks, we actually got to the point where we were just hanging around waiting, hoping, for an appearance from the marshmallow man. He was sort of becoming the highlight of our nights. We just loved the absurdity of it all and the free sweets were a bonus too.

One day though, he came, with this bag. It was a big plastic bag, some sort of novelty giant marshmallow bag. He giggled as he pointed at a friend of mine, Rich, and gestured him into the bag. We all laughed and egged him on to do it. How could we have known any better? We were kids and this was just some harmless, friendly, giant marshmallow.

Rich hopped into the bag and the marshmallow man pulled it up above him from the ground and zipped it up. We laughed for a couple of minutes until we could see Rich begin to panic. He started slapping at the bag from the inside.We began panicking ourselves as we pleaded with him to let rich out, we watched as rich began turning blue in the face. We watched as the marshmallow man giggled, his high pitch giggle, seeming far more sinister to us than before. Rich seemed to really be in danger. Me and my friends started trying to rip the bag open, but the marshmallow man began pushing us down with his belly, one by one. All we could do was watch as he grabbed his big giant marshmallow bag, ran down the path and hopped into his white van with the giant marshmallow sitting on the roof.

We ofcourse ran home after this. I remember running home to my parents house and frantically telling them what had happened. Floods of tears streaming down my face. They were bemused at first, kind of thinking I was making up stories or something. Putting it down to a typical child's imagination. I mean what would you think if your child came home and started telling you your friend was just captured by a giant marshmallow? It's just not something you immediately take seriously.

Eventually they realised I was being honest and they called the cops. The police took statements and things and one of them spoke to my parents while the other seemed to be kind of trying to cheer me up by talking about football and things. We never seen Rich again after that day and the marshmallow man was never caught as far as I'm aware. I've asked my parents about it a couple of times over the years and they've never heard anything from the police.

This all happened 25 years ago. I had basically put it out of my mind by now and was at a point where I never really thought about it until yesterday.

I had gotten up for work, and did my usual routine of showering, breakfast and picking up my mail. It was upon picking up my mail though that stopped me dead in my tracks. There was a bag, a bag of blue marshmallows. The brand. Rich's Marshmallows. The picture, that face. That exact same creepy smiley face of that marshmallow man. Almost mocking me as it sits under the name of my kidnapped childhood friend.

I don't know if this is some kind of sick fucking joke by one of my old friends from that day or if he has found me, tracked me down and coming for me. I've contacted them all through Facebook and only had a couple of replies so far, letting me know they don't know what I'm talking about. I've been contemplating whether or not to go to the cops with this but feel slightly embarrassed and unsure of what I could possibly say.

It's got me scared though, really scared. I almost feel 10 years old again. I am posting here in the hope someone out there knows something. I'll keep everyone updated if anything else happens, but I really hope and pray that it doesn't. I never want to see that big puffy white smile in person again.