u/West_Smoke_9164

Danny vs luigi with anti ghost vacuum cleaner?

Basically for conclusion: don't transitioning your body, just accept it as you are because that high temperatures can lead to uncomfortable conceal sensation to trans person's boobs

Natural biology matters for survival for men & women

The old VHS tape arrived in a plain brown envelope, no return address. Just a yellowed label in faded Cyrillic that read: "Остров Сокровищ - Часть 2" Treasure Island. Part 2, 1988.

I'd found it while cleaning out my late grandfather's attic in a small Ukrainian village. He'd been a sailor once, back in Soviet days. He always said the sea gave him nightmares he could never explain. I popped it into an ancient player out of curiosity, more for nostalgia than anything else. The Soviet cartoon my dad used to describe with such wild enthusiasm the one with the catchy songs, the quirky animation mixing live action pirate bits, Long John Silver's sly grin voiced by that unforgettable Armenian actor.

The screen flickered to life with that familiar grainy quality. The Hispaniola creaked on stormy waves. Jim Hawkins, wide eyed and brave, clutched the map. dr. Livesey adjusted his glasses with that comically pompous flair. Everything felt… right. The music swelled, cheerful and adventurous, the kind that sticks in your head for days.

Then the tape hit a glitch. Static hissed like wind through rigging. The colors shifted just for a frame turning the bright cartoon sea into something deeper, blacker, like oil under moonlight.

I leaned closer.

The characters kept moving, but their mouths didn't quite sync anymore. Long John Silver's famous line the one about the map being worth more than all the rum in the Caribbean came out slower, almost whispered. His wooden leg didn't thump the deck the same way. It dragged, leaving faint red trails that the animators had never drawn.

"Something's wrong with the island", Jim said in the next scene. But in the original, he never says that. I remembered the plot well enough: mutiny, buried gold, parrots and pistols. Not this.

The ship reached the island at night. Palm trees swayed, but their fronds looked too long, too many joints, like fingers reaching down. The live action inserts those weird real pirate footage blended in showed actors whose faces I didn't recognize. One blinked too many times. Another's smile stayed fixed even when he turned away from the camera.

Jim and the doctor went ashore. The music turned minor, a children's song twisted into something minor key and wrong. Silver followed at a distance, humming the same tune, but his voice had dropped an octave. His eyes those big animated eyes reflected nothing. No light from the torches. Just voids.

I paused the tape. My room felt colder. The parrot on Silver's shoulder in the next shot wasn't repeating "Pieces of eight" It was saying something in Russian, low and guttural: "Они все ещё здесь." - They are still here.

I didn't speak much Russian, but I understood that.

The crew started digging. The ground opened too easily, like flesh parting. No chests of gold. Just bones. Hundreds of them, arranged in perfect circles, some still wearing tattered 18th century coats. Among them, tiny animated skeletons wearing modern clothes a child's shoe, a Soviet era watch.

Long John Silver laughed. That rich, rolling laugh that made the film so beloved. But this time it didn't stop. It layered over itself, dozens of voices, all the same timbre, echoing from the trees and the caves and the sea itself.

Jim turned to run. The animation stuttered. His legs moved, but the background didn't. He stayed in place while the island shifted around him trees marching closer, the sand rippling like breathing skin.

Dr. Livesey appeared beside him, adjusting his glasses again. His face was perfectly drawn, but the hand holding the glasses had six fingers. "Don't worry, Jimmy lad" he said cheerfully. "The treasure was never gold. It was the map. And the map… wants to go home."

The camera panned to the horizon. The Hispaniola was gone. In its place, dozens of ships old wooden ones, rusted Soviet trawlers, even a modern yacht all half sunk, their decks crowded with silent figures waving slowly. Waving at Jim. At me.

Silver limped forward, his peg leg now leaving deep, wet holes that filled with dark water. "You brought the tape back, didn't you boy? Every copy wants to return to the island. Every viewer who watches till the end… leaves a little piece behind."

The screen filled with static again. When it cleared, Jim was standing alone on the beach. But his eyes were different. Wider. Emptier. He looked straight at the camera straight at me and smiled the same fixed smile I'd seen on those live action pirates earlier.

"Yo-ho-ho" he sang softly, in perfect English this time. "And a bottle of… nothing. There's nothing left after the island takes its due."

The tape ended abruptly. No credits, Just black.

I ejected it. The plastic felt warm, almost feverish. When I turned it over, new writing had appeared on the label in shaky ballpoint: Part 3 is already inside you.

That night I dreamed of the island. Palm trees with too many joints. A one legged shadow humming Soviet cartoon songs while digging up bones that still had my grandfather's face.

I woke up with sand between my sheets. Tiny grains, black as the sea in that final shot.

The tape is still on my shelf. Sometimes, late at night, I hear the faint sound of a parrot through the plastic casing.

It just whispers my name… and laughs like Long John Silver used to, before the island fixed him.

Before it fixed them all.

If you ever find an old Soviet VHS of Treasure Island from 1988, do yourself a favor.

Don't watch Part 2 all the way through.

And whatever you do… don't look for Part 3.

The island is still waiting for new crew.

It's just gauls had thier empire before romans because of Celtic

Im just doing some little homework project about all pre-historic animals in Israel

And i need y'all help to fill more birds in this chart, if it's possibly more 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

He named like that because He literally "doctors" the spin on his frisbee/disc throws controlling rotation, curve, speed, and return path with master level precision to make them deadly and unpredictable (like putting insane spin on a ball to curve it impossibly).

And He metaphorically acts like a classic spin doctor always lying, manipulating situations, spinning alibis after a heist goes wrong, trash-talking to psych out heroes, His mouth is as dangerous as his discs.

His powers & abilities:

1. Disc Mastery - Throws frisbee like discs with insane precision, curve, and return capability (better glide than boomerangs in some conditions).

2. Custom Arsenal - Standard weighted discs, razor-rim slicers, explosive payloads, electrified edges, grappling line attached, or vortex creating "spin cycle" throws that disorient foes.

3. Deception Expert - "Spins" narratives to manipulate allies/enemies, create alibis, or sow discord.

4. Agility & Combat - Quick reflexes from years of throwing sports; competent in close-quarters brawls.

Please, support this artist from twitter: here's proof