#Sid the Invisible Kid

[crunchyslick]

Look what came in last week!!! Also yes I know my cropping skills are awful I was in a rush

[heavy-swing]

FFXIV Write 2024 - Prompt #4 - Reticent

Content Warnings: None

Spoiler Warnings: DRK Level 58 quest spoilers

Summary: Amid the skies of the Churning Mists, Aelita Tirasch witnesses a flood, and finds herself reflected in its waters.

“The little one must be Rielle, which would make the big one, Sid, right?”

Aelita watched Sidurgu’s face contort in annoyance, already weary of more magical nonsense.

“...Yes. I presume that would make you one of the “tiny beings” the dragon spoke of.”

A stony silence fell over the four of them as Sid seemed to be waiting for something. Something that Rielle seemed reticent to give to him.

“Rielle, say something to the moogle.” He’d tried so hard to be gentle, but Aelita could plainly see he was fighting an uphill battle. 

“Rielle.” Still nothing. “Rielle!” He raised his voice, maybe sharper than he'd intended, if the regret that flashed across his face was any indication. 

Aelita saw something in Rielle’s expression shift, something familiar. It warned her of the impending explosion, but not with anywhere near enough time to stop it from happening.

“...I'm sick of this charade.”

With those five words, a dam had finally burst inside Rielle. The cracks were there all along, invisible to the naked eye.

The emotion just poured out of her, in a way Aelita knew only too well. In each exclamation and intonation she heard a little more of herself on that fateful night, almost fifteen summers ago. Aelita had experienced firsthand that primal fear, that yawning sadness, that gnawing frustration. All the feelings that came with the knowledge that the person who looked after you might not be able to look after themselves, and that one day would likely be their last. 

Rielle just let Sid have it, and Aelita simply let the flood run its course. She took no joy in it, no sense of superiority, but she knew it was necessary if those two were going to stick together.

She watched as Sid floundered in the rising tide, struggling to come up with the response he thought Rielle might want to hear. But the raging current didn't care for his excuses. 

“And you!” Sid exclaimed, pointing at Aelita, “Say something, damn you!” He was desperate, thrashing about in search of a lifeline.

And yet, just as quickly as they'd come, the waters of Rielle’s rage subsided, leaving her once again reluctant to speak. The moogle that had stood out of the way of Rielle's wrath took it upon himself to occupy the silence, charging both Sid and Aelita with some thinly veiled excuse to do chores.

Aelita knew the errands could wait, though, and there was someone who couldn't. She let Sid start off on his search for the herb that Moggie had sent them after, and then when he was far enough out of sight, she gingerly approached Rielle.

“Rielle, I…” She knelt down to Rielle's level, not wanting to lord her years of experience over the girl. “I can't say I know exactly what you're feelin’, but I've got a pretty good idea. I've watched my parents sail off into the sunset when I was still a kid, wondering if they'd ever make it back… I have to imagine that seeing that happen over and over every day doesn’t make it any easier.” The beginnings of tears had started to appear on both of their faces, and Aelita reached out for Rielle's hands. “And I can't speak for Sid, Navigator knows he's got his issues to sort out, but… I think he does care.” Aelita gave a goofy smile. “Even if he's too much a scaredy-cat to say it.” That got a laugh from Rielle. “If he ever gives you any more grief, run right on over to Ser Aymeric’s office in the Congregation, and he'll give me a call. I'll scoop you right up and you can stay with me and my friends, okay?”

Rielle nodded and wiped her eyes with a sleeve. “I will.” 

Aelita tousled Rielle's hair a little, and then stood to go get started on the impromptu Moogle chores.

“Aelita?”

“Yeah, Rielle?”

“... Look after him, will you?”

Aelita gave a thumbs-up and a grin, and went off to find some pomwort, whatever that was.

[beesinspace]

There they is! Sid the invisible .-*theatre*-. kid! The world soon to be most famous director/producer/script-writer/performer/... With an eye for loud outfits and the spotlight!

The spirit of spooky month really got me inspired apparently lolol I feel so close to finishing my redesign line up! Gods, what am I gonna do once I'm done? I might have to start finding the motivation to make some comics of these goobers!

[oneinathousand]

I'm halfway through Gravedale High and I think I get the gist of it, so here are my random thoughts about it:

Of all the celebrity cartoons, this is one of them. Joking aside, this probably is legitimately one of the better ones from this time period. I am not distracted by Rick Moranis's presence, and I'm glad he's not going full nerd as in his usual typecasting. I keep expecting to see a Ghostbusters or Little Shop of Horrors reference, since this show sure does love its pop culture references, but so far, they've had the restraint not to do it in a direct way except for one of the background characters in one episode looking like a terror dog, but that could be a coincidence. I guess I'll find out eventually if they actually do make a reference.

I can't watch a lot of it in one sitting because if I try, I know I'll be filled with homicidal rage at all the constant catchphrases and verbal tics and schticks that every character has.

Gotta love how the creativity of the main cast ranges from "Personifying the trope of zombies as commentaries for consumerism with a wealth-obsessed, literal mall zombie" to "what if creature from the black lagoon but surfer".

J.P. doesn't seem to be any kind of monster in particular, Peter Lorre parodies are just their own Halloween species lol

Vinnie may be the Fonz as a teenage vampire, but it was very big-brained of whoever the character designer was to give him black nail polish in 1989-90. For all this show's problems, the character design for the most part is not one of them, even with how dated many of them are fashion-wise they're still very charming.

Sure, I ship Vinnie and Reggie. Before I watched this show, I assumed it was just typical shipping of best friend characters, but when I got to the famous ear-scratching scene from episode four, I was like "yeah okay I can see where they're coming from".

Of the main cast, Sid is probably my favorite because everything about him is so hilariously dated above all the rest, which is saying something: The rapping, the baseball cap, the pattern on his shirt, the random impressions... he's so lame that he circles back around to being funny. And apart from the irony, an invisible kid becoming a class clown so people won't ignore him anymore is one of the more genuinely creative concepts here.

Oh, but speaking of Sid, who's voiced by Maurice LaMarche... It was pretty awkward to watch Sid whenever he talked about his dreams to become a stand-up comedian, knowing what I know about what happened with LaMarche's own desire to rise up in the stand-up world on the same month that Gravedale High coincidentally premiered in. I don't know if this is common knowledge, but I won't go into it here because this post is supposed to be about a silly cartoon. If you're curious and can handle emotional matters, go read about it on his Wikipedia page under the Career section and see the events leading up to him becoming a full-time voice actor after September 1990.

Anyway, this is one of those cartoons where you can see a lot of potential, but since this came before or at the same time as other more ground-breaking cartoons like Ren and Stimpy or Tiny Toons, you get the feeling Gravedale is still shackled by 80's cartoon trappings despite its occasional dark jokes and pop culture references. If I were to make a new version, with or without Moranis, I would go for something a little edgy to make it stand out from Monster High and other shows of its ilk, do for horror what Clone High does for teen shows, either in a PG or TV-14 way.

[nbenvs3000w24]

Unpacking the World of Privilege

Hi everyone!

Welcome back to my third blog post!

So far, we’ve talked about more light hearted subjects such as my evolutionary relationship with nature, my personal experiences with nature and my ideal world as an environmental interpreter and what that would entail. In this week's post, I am going to reflect on what role privilege plays in nature interpretation and how I have experienced forms of privilege within my own life.  As we head into this weeks blog post, I acknowledge that myself and those who read this, might feel moments of discomfort or uneasiness however, I believe this to be an important topic to reflect on. 

To begin, privilege to me is the advantages and benefits that come with having a certain identity such as race, gender, or economic status that often provides easier access to opportunities, resources and overall a heightened sense of well-being and success. As mentioned in the readings this week, many individuals born into more privileged environments, “are not taught to recognize their own privileges,” and after reflecting on my own life, I’ve realized that there are many ‘invisible backpacks’ I carry that I haven’t truly recognized (Gallavan, 2005). To get personal and transparent, I am white, middle class, speak English, was able to get a University degree with help from my family, was not born with physical or cognitive disabilities and wake up each day with a roof over my head and food on the table. Although many of these things might seem small or trivial, the impact they can hold is significant without even realising it. 

An experience in my life where I truly realized my own privilege, was when I volunteered at Kids Ability to assist in a swim program for children with disabilities. I learned through my time assisting these children that there are barriers and obstacles they face that do not make them any less of a person, but that gives a person like me an amplitude of challenges I will never have to face. If I connect this topic to the world of nature interpretation, the concept of privilege is particularly important when considering individuals with disabilities as they may face various barriers that affect their ability to access and interpret the natural world around them. For example, physical access to natural spaces that lack wheelchair ramps or accessible trails or inadequate visual or tactile tools such as braille or audio descriptions. As mentioned in the textbook, it is important as nature interpreters to integrate all audiences by providing opportunities for building social skills for those with and without disabilities while also recognizing our own privilege we carry in relation to those around us. Some suggested examples of proper etiquette when working with people with disabilities are: don’t “talk down’ to a person with a disability, speak in a normal tone of voice, be patient and encouraging, do not lean on a wheelchair or any other assistive device, offer assistance only when permission is given, etc (Beck, 2018). Most importantly, as an interpreter it is important to treat every person in your audience the way you would want to be treated and in regard to people with disabilities, “interpreting to people with disabilities involves getting people to participate and learn by building on their knowledge, interests, and skills, just as with any group of visitors!” (Beck, 2018). 

Thank you for reading and I hope you were able to take something away from this post, whether that be reflecting on your own privilege or gaining more knowledge on how to interact with those around you. As always, treat others the way you want to be treated and be kind!!!!!

Cheers, Natalie 

References:

Gallavan, N. P. (2005). Helping teachers unpack their "invisible knapsacks". Multicultural Education, 13(1), 36. https://link-gale-com.subzero.lib.uoguelph.ca/apps/doc/A137921591/AONE?u=guel77241&sid=bookmark-AONE&xid=9fe2f151

Beck, L., Cable, T.T., & Knudson, D.M. (2018). Interpreting cultural and natural heritage: for a better world. Sagamore Publishing.

[p1astictaste]

hockey masterlist

last entry: marks on your skin - NH13

*favorites

fics not mine! easier access for me if i want to re-read!

New Jersey Devils

*it can wait (LH43)

got the girl (LH43)

addicted (LH43)

*a tale of dancing and romancing (JH86)

off limits (NH13)

luke takes UNO very personally

needy (LH43)

*tidal waves (LH43)

again (LH43)

maybe three isn't a crowd (NH13 + JH86)

cranky jack

riding high (NH13)

jigsaw (LH43)

size kink (LH43)

intoxicated with you (LH43)

the green eyed monster (LH43)

invisible string (LH43)

late night devil (NH13)

friends with feelings (LH43)

*just friends (JH86)

overstimulating jack

*kiss her you fool (LH43)

*wedding crashers (JH86)

a new birthday tradition (JH86)

a fantasy fulfilled (JH86 + trevor zegras)

intoxication (JH86 + trevor zegras)

for the first time (LH43)

make out blurb (LH43)

sound of summer pt1 (LH43)

night before forever (JH86)

betting on brats (NH13)

*lover of mine (NH13)

touching foreheads (LH43)

since when do friends do things like this? (LH43)

kissing the top of their head (JH86 + NH13)

marks on your skin (NH13)

baby pictures (JH86)

*4:12 AM (LH43)

stubborn pride (JH86)

dawn awakening (LH43)

stubborn love (JH86)

late night blues (JH86)

Carolina Hurricanes

the all star break (AS37 + brady skjei76)

sundress season (AS37)

the after party (AS37 + BS76) pt.2

illicit affairs blurb (AS37)

carry me home (SA20)

kids night (AS37)

*being bold (SJ24)

fleeting (AS37)

Vancouver Canucks

garden of eden (QH43)

friends don't (QH43)

summer haze (QH43)

fearless pt.2 (QH43)

baby fever and annoying brothers (QH43)

i know places (QH43)

lucky (QH43)

little flame (QH43)

oliver the orca (QH43)

*day by day, year after year (QH43)

just once (QH43 + trevor zegras)

i mean it (QH43 + trevor zegras)

happily (QH43)

*a closeness (QH43)

high on cloud 9 (QH43)

on the road again (QH43)

drunk on love (QH43)

Miscellaneous

by the water, euphoria pt.2 (SC87, penguins)

neighbour!sid (SC87, penguins)

life's better on a boat (mat barzal + tyson jost, NYI)

clandestine (SC87)

keep quiet (MT19, panthers)

joking about you (MT19, panthers)

*4 times he almost proposed + 1 time he really did (MT19, panthers)

all for you (MT19, panthers)

beach blanket and a bottle of wine (JD9, flyers)

*my sweet girl (MT19, panthers)

reputations (MT19, panthers)

you say you hate me (MT19)

swimwear season (AX72, canadiens)

digital animal (umich)

tradition (SC87)

blue hawaiian (MM16, leafs)

*just a kiss (TZ11, ducks)

trevor doesn't know (drysdale, flyers)

ghostface slut (TZ11 + alex turcotte)

when ethan falls in love (EE, umich)

[brittanithewriter]

Sid Story

Life After Toys

By

Brittani

            Hello everyone, my name is Sid and I have Ludilophobia. And yes, you heard me right…I fear toys. Please don’t laugh at me for I already feel embarrassed enough. I cannot even look at Barbie dolls without sweating or having a panic attack. That painted smile is so menacing. No thank you, Barbie. Let’s not go party.

            I was not always this way. I used to love toys. Well, I loved to destroy them. In kindergarten, I loved to swap the heads of dolls, placing their arms where their legs would go and placing their legs where their arms would go. My teacher, Mrs. Hines said that I was “scary”, that I made her “uneasy”, and that I had “alarming qualities that one would see on Dateline”, whatever that meant. My mom would just say that I was unique; a curious boy who was just inquisitive about the mechanics of life. Mrs. Hines told her that she should seek help.

            While everyone wanted to be Dr. Doug Ross from ER, I strived to be like Dr. Frankenstein, assembling humanoid creatures through ambiguous means and successfully bringing them to life… or at least pretending to be. I wanted my sister, Hannah to be my assistant, but she was too busy having tea parties with her dolls. Yuck! My first creature was a hand-in-a-box. I found my old Jack-in-the-box in a box in the garage next to my dad’s nudie magazines with women named after drinks and cars. I pulled off the Jack and replaced it with a fake hand we used as a Halloween decoration. The look of horror on Hannah’s face when the weasel popped will forever be a core memory in my brain. Oh, man, she cried like a little weepy baby. All I could do was laugh so hard that my stomach hurt for days. It was all worth it though.

            Another creature of mine comprised of the torso of a pilot action figure my Uncle Earl gave me for my birthday one year right before he passed out drunk on our yard. I nailed the pilot onto a mini skateboard so that he would get from one end of my room to the other with ease. I could tell that my skills were improving. My hands were precious instruments of surgery and one day, I would share my skills with the world. Instead, I settled for the weird kid next door who always dressed like he was in a western. Some afternoons, I would see him from time to time, galloping around his front yard on an invisible horse while wearing that stupid cowboy hat. Though the “yee-haws” I heard from my bedroom window frustrated me to my core, I thought he would be a better assistant than Hannah. Unfortunately, his mother told him to stay clear of me. She was no fun. Even still, I could not remember his name. I think it was something like Randy. I am not sure.

            Eventually, I was able to create my own Frankenstein monster, my glorious creation! I stole one of Hannah’s baby dolls and put its head on an erector set my dad gave me for Christmas. My little spider baby. It was perfect. Hannah told my mother what I did, and I was grounded, ultimately having to see a therapist for a month, but none of that mattered to me. I was a mad doctor! However, I would not be like Victor and run away from my monsters because of their ugliness. I would cherish them… until I eventually blew them up.

            Explosions were my favorite method. Only a little dynamite… for kids. I loved how the toys blew up into pieces and scattered across my backyard like confetti. Even though I knew what was going to happen, every boom felt like a surprise. When I expressed my joy to my therapist, she said it was very concerning as she raised her brow and scribbled a few notes in her little notebook. She was just jealous for she wished she could join in on the fun. What is so concerning about a little boy’s happiness?

            But all that changed that night I went to get some pizza and play video games after my dad had one of his “moments”. When I looked back at it, I questioned why I had to use my last quarter to get those toys from the machine. I should have known that it was too good to be true when the claw grabbed two instead of one. When has that ever happened in the history of the toy claw? Never! But I was only a kid at the time, and when would I ever get the chance to buy two toys for a quarter? At the time, it seemed like a mere dream, a glorious catch of good luck. There it was the most popular spaceman toy at the time amidst the plush green alien toys. It was pristine as though he was right out of the box. At that moment, I did not feel like a mad doctor. I felt astronomical. I felt like NASA. 

            I maneuvered the claw carefully, taking my time so that when it was time to grab. Steady, I was, like a lioness sneaking up upon her prey, ready to pounce. And bam! The claw gripped his folded arm. My eyes lit up and my smile stretched as far as my face would allow. The level of excitement flowed through my body, coursing through my veins and making my skin feel hot. But I had to remain calm. The battle was won, but there was still a war to fight. I took my time, raising the claw slowly. However, there was some resistance. The spaceman was stuck. It felt like I was in a tug-of-war with whatever was underneath the green alien toys. No! This can’t be! I refused to choose defeat. I pulled as hard as I could until finally the spaceman was set free. Finally! But then there he was, dangling from the space boot was that cowboy with his little brown cowboy boots, cowhide vest, sheriff badge, and that darn brown cowboy hat. I could not believe it. How did I get so lucky? Were the toy gods shining down upon me? It sure as heck felt like it. It was a glorious night, for the next day, I was going to send an astronaut into space.

            That night, I ordered a small rocket, but unfortunately, when it was finally delivered, the rain fell and dampened all my plans. One cannot have it all, I guess. A dream deferred was not a dream denied. I refused to allow the weather to rain on my parade. I decided to set the alarm for sunrise. And though I was filled with excitement, I still slept like a baby, eager for the next day. Little did I know what the next day had in store for me.

            A person would not believe me if I told them. If I were to tell this to a soul, they would have thought I was crazy; however, I swear to you that this is true.

            Morning came and the astronaut was strapped up to the rocket, wrapped in duct tape, and ready to go. I took him to the backyard, making sure I made it out there before my parents woke up. My mom had an extra glass of wine, and my dad chugged a six-pack of his favorite beer; therefore, I had until eleven in the morning at the latest. I placed the spaceman right in the middle of the yard, his plastic butt right atop the blades of already burnt grass from the last explosion. The launch time had commenced, the spaceman was ready to go… and then I heard him.

            “Reach for the sky!”, the voice box said from out of nowhere.

            What? I turned around and there was the cowboy by the sandbox. That damn cowboy. I thought he was busted. He had to be broken; the wires inside of him must have malfunctioned somehow because there was no other way. It couldn’t be Hannah because she usually steered clear of me when it was explosion time, in fear that I would blow her precious dollies into smithereens. If was a broken toy, it would soon be my next victim… until he said my name! He knew my name! I was frozen in fear and my body started to tremble. Doubt raced through my mind for I started to question my sanity. At my sweet young age, was I losing my mind? But before I could even wrap my head around it all, suddenly, the toys that I disregarded and destroyed began to rise from the mud and sandbox like in The Night of the Living Dead. The toys were alive!

            Suddenly, my spider baby descended onto my head like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible. The hand-in-the-box grabbed me by my ankles. They were all coming for me, ready to punish me for everything that I have done to them. I was frozen in fear, my body trembling, and my mouth agape as I watched the cowboy’s head slowly turn around as I held him in my hand. And with burrowed drawn brow and a menacing tone, he sternly told me to “play nice”. Without any hesitation, I dropped him. They surrounded me, slowly making their way to my feet before I ran into the house, screaming hysterically.

            I told my parents, but they didn’t believe me. My dad just smacked me over the head and told me to stop being weird. Hannah took joy in my misery. To her, it was karma finally biting me in the butt. She would chase me around the house with her dolls in her hands. Sometimes, she would sneak into my room at night and place one of her toys beside my pillow so that when I would wake up, I would scream bloody murder. The first time she did that, I had to change my sheets and flip my mattress before my dad found out. After a month of enjoying my torment, Hannah eventually grew bored of it all and left me alone. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the end of the to my nightmare.

            I threw every toy I had away. Goodbye, spider baby. Goodbye, hand-in-a-box. I never say that cowboy or that spaceman again though. I searched high and low for them, but to no avail. I placed the rest of my toys in a cardboard box and wrapped them completely in duct tape. I would have set them on fire, but I didn’t want to risk the chance of angering them any further. Come trash day, the box was placed beside the trash can and picked up by the sanitation workers. From my window, I watched the garbage men stop briefly in front of my house and dump all our trash into the garbage truck. There was a bit of relief as I watched the garbage truck drive away and disappear around the corner. Unfortunately, my troubles did not end there.

            Over the years, I develop night terrors where I would wake up in the middle of the night screaming to the top of my lungs in a cold sweat. My sheets would be drenched from sweat and just a tiny drop of urine.  My nightmares were always about that darn cowboy with his eyes staring right at me as if staring at me right into my soul. He was always telling me to play nice and that he was watching me. No longer would I sleep with the lights off and from that day on, I slept with a bat underneath my pillow. 

After a while, my parents could no longer take my constant night terrors and the disruption of our house at night. Much to my father’s protest, both of my parents ultimately decided to put me in therapy. Dr. Witherspoon became my therapist for two days a week. He was a bearded middle-aged man with thinning hair that made the top of his head look like a cul-de-sac. As cliché as it sounds, I would lie down on a couch and explain everything that I went through. All he did was nod as he took notes in his notepad, uncrossing and recrossing his legs every few minutes.

            It wasn’t that I disliked Dr. Witherspoon; however, after a month of going to him, the fear remained. I could tell by the look on his face as I talked about the Cowboy Incident, that he thought I was either lying or completely off my rocker. He told my parents that I should be prescribed medication, but I refused. I was not crazy for I knew what I saw. The ordeal played on repeat in my thoughts as though stuck in a loop. From that moment on, I refused to attend a birthday party, even though none of my classmates ever invited me in the first place. For Christmas, I urged my parents for gift cards instead of the latest, hottest toy out that year. No more Mattel, goodbye to Toys-R-Us. Only children played with toys and at that moment, I no longer wanted to be a child. After two months, I quit therapy and journeyed on my path of seeking help.

            During my junior year in high school, I dropped out and obtained my GED. I tossed my dreams of becoming a mad scientist away like a used napkin and started working for the Tri-County Sanitation Department. I was going to be a garbage man… and I didn’t mind that. Sure, I smelled like trash and the smell trap itself into every fiber of my clothes; however, the pay was nice, and I get to listen to my music all day. And the best part was that the toys we came across were already too broken and decrepit to even attack me. If they were to try, I had the landfill’s incinerator on my side. It was perfect. There was no need for me to go to college like my classmates, wasting my time as I buried my head in books and being bored out of my mind. Garbage was all I needed in my life, and I was happy.

            It would be a lie to say that my newfound happiness cured me of this inexplicable fear of a child’s plaything. There were moments I struggled every time I walked past the toy aisle of a store. Every doll, every action figure; my skin would become hot, and my palms would start to sweat. My heart would quicken its pace every time a “try me” was pressed by every curious child and parent. Toys were no longer a part of my life anymore. And that was ok.

            Sid stood in front of the members of his support group after he finished telling his story, met with supportive and sympathetic eyes. The counselor stood up from his chair with half a smile on his face.

            “Thank you for sharing that with us, Sid.” The counselor said.

            The rest of the group agreed, nodding their heads, and softly clapping their hands in encouragement. Sid smiled as he stared around the circle. There is a slight feeling of relief after he spoke his truth and shared his story. There was no shame or looks of judgment, only understanding.

            “So, who is next?” The counselor asked.

Betty, the two-time divorcee raised her hand. Her phobia was for pickles. Sid sat down to make way for her to tell her story, a story that she had told several times before. Each time was an encounter she had with a pickle at a restaurant. All she needed to do was to stop eating out, but everyone already accepted the fact that her problems were more of an addiction to wanting attention than getting through her phobia. However, wasn’t that why everyone was there? 

Each person came once a week to sit amongst others and gain sympathy for a weird defect that they had, while they reveled in the euphoria of being heard and not judged. Finally, Sid found his tribe. With them, he wasn’t seen as crazy or urged to seek professional help. To them, Sid’s phobia was something real and not some sad joke from a pathetic man. They took him seriously.

            Eight o’clock on a Friday evening hit and the weekly meeting ended. Everyone went around and gave each other their goodbye hugs and handshakes, promising to keep in touch until their next meeting the following week. Betty stopped Sid on his way to the exit. The gentle touch of his arm, her sheepish grin, and her struggle to make eye contact only confirmed the crush Sid already knew she had for him.

“You know, when I was a little girl, I could have sworn my toys were moving around while I slept,” Betty said, “I swear I would leave my Barbie on the floor only for her to end up right beside me on the bed. So… I guess we have something in common.”

“Uh, I guess so,” Sid said.

Suddenly, his phone rang. Saved by the bell. It was Hannah. This was the first time Sid was happy to hear from her. Their sibling relationship was not the greatest. Due to his constant bullying of her as a kid and her tormenting him after a traumatic experience, their relationship was a bit on the estranged side. They would see each other for Christmas and birthdays, but that was as far as their relationship would go.

“You will have to excuse me. It’s my sister,” Sid told Betty, “Family matters.”

“Of course, I understand,” Betty said with a disappointed tone.

Sid exited and started to walk to his car. Thank God and thank you, Hannah.

“Hannah? What’s up?” Sid answered the phone.

“Hey.” Hannah greeted, “I was calling you to remind you about your nephew’s birthday party tomorrow.”

“I don’t need to be reminded. I remembered.” Sid said, “Noon,  right?”

“Right.” Hannah answered, “So, don’t be late. And don’t forget a gift.”

“I have the perfect gift in mind already.”

“Please don’t get him another puzzle,” Hannah groaned, “I’m still finding pieces from the last one you bought him all around the house.”

            Darn. That was exactly what he was going to give to him. Thank goodness he saved the receipt for back to Target he will go.

            “What about a gift card?” Sid asked.

            “He is seven years old, for goodness’ sake. Just buy him a toy!” Hannah argued.

            Sid froze as a chill ran through his body like blood coursing through his veins at the sheer utter of that three-letter word. Was Hannah insane? After over fifteen years, Sid wondered why his sister could be so oblivious and insensitive.

            “Hannah, are you serious?” Sid asked in disbelief, “You know I can’t do that!”

            “Are you still on that, Sid?” Hannah asked with a slight chuckle, “You’re a grown man still being misled by his imagination. I thought it was funny when we were younger, but now, it is just plain sad.”

            Hannah was right, it indeed was, and Sid knew that. He was a grown man scared of things that brought little children joy. Even his nephew had more courage and bravery than he did. But to Sid’s defense, neither one of them experienced what he went through that day, for if they did, they would never even look in the same direction of another toy again. The thought of going through the aisles caused him to sweat profusely. That scary moment of his childhood flashed through his mind, replaying in his head as if stuck in a horrible loop.

            “Sid?” Hannah called out, “Are you there?”

            Sid snapped back to reality. He loved his nephew very much for he reminded him of a younger, yet better version of himself. Instead of destroying toys and wreaking havoc, his nephew loved to build things and make them better. He loved to play with them and create worlds with him in his imagination. Unlike Sid, his nephew loved toys.

            “I’m here.” Sid finally answered, “I will get him a toy. I promise.”

            “Great,” Hannah said.

            “What kind of toys does he like?” Sid asked.

            “Well, lately, he’s been horses,” Hannah replied.

            Both hung up the phone. And it begins.

            The next morning right, before the birthday party, Sid drove to Target for going to Walmart crossed his mind; however, there was something about the red store that gave him an enormous amount of comfort. The aisles were clean with the inventory stacked neatly and organized with polite customers and helpful employees.  But Sid refused to go in. He remembered what happened the last time he walked past the toy aisle. He immediately became dizzy and passed up, waking up in the back of an ambulance. Now, thanks to technology, Sid no longer had to deal with anxieties. All he needed was an app and he could make a  pick-up order.   However, the hard part was not over for he still had to scroll through the toys on the app and find the perfect horse toy. It was agonizing, but he finally found the right one. He placed it in the cart, paid, and scheduled a pick-up time for an hour from now.

            Sid parked on the side of the store in parking space #3. He checked in through the app, letting them know his parking space number and the color of his car. After a minute or two, an employee came out with the toy in a large Target bag with his name placed right in front. Sid unlocked the doors so that the employee could put the bag in the backseat. Sid watched the bag from the rearview mirror like a hawk. Every few seconds, he would take his eyes off the road as he drove and stared back at it. Sid waited anxiously in anticipation, for if that toy was to move in just the slightest, he was prepared to swerve the car off the road. It was that serious to Sid.

            He made it to Hannah’s house, thankfully without incident. The bag never moved once. As he went to grab the bag from the backseat, he froze again. His arms reached to grab it, but his hand refused to touch. Sweat began to form from the top of his forehead and slowly trail down the side of his head. The beating of his heart started to quicken. It was a panic attack. Sid was having a panic attack at his seven-year-old nephew’s birthday party. Pathetic.

            “Sid?” a female’s voice called out.

            Sid turned to see Hannah standing in the doorway of her front door. Hannah looked at her older brother oddly.

            “What are you doing, Sid?” Hannah asked.

            With a deep breath and a quick count of three, Sid hastily grabs the bag. He turned around and held it up for Hannah to see, smiling with both fear and pride.

            “I bought him a toy,” Sid said.

            Hannah could not believe her eyes as she took a step back in disbelief. Hannah smiled for it was the first and only time she had ever given her older brother one. Usually, the expression on her face was always contempt and disgust, but she was impressed by his redemption for her son’s birthday party. She wondered if maybe he was becoming a better person.

            “Well, come on. The party already started.” Hannah waved him inside. 

            Sid’s mind was racing a mile a minute as he walked from his car to the front door, his peripheral vision focused on the top of the toy horse’s head as it peeked out of the bag. One wrong move and he was going to lunge that bag like a football and send it to the county line. Nothing. 

Once he reached the front door, there was an awkward moment about whether the two siblings should hug or not. They decided on a handshake. There was no need to change up interactions for the occasion.

            “I’m glad you could come,” Hannah said as she and Sid entered her house, her closing the door behind her.

            Those words hit Sid at his heartstrings, for in his thirty-something years of living, never had anyone uttered anything remotely close to that to him. Most of the time, they would try to avoid him at all costs. It felt nice to feel wanted.

            “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Sid replied.

He could hear children laughing and adults talking to one another from the back of the house. There was happiness in the air, along with the aroma of pizza and hot dogs.  The anxiety left Sid’s body and a calmness came over him. Maybe he was over this fear. Maybe it was him that kept phobia alive and allowed it to control his life.  Hannah led Sid to the kitchen and dining room in the house. Just as Sid turned the corner, the smile he entered the home with quickly fell. From the balloons to the streamers to the banner that read “Howdy, Timmy. Happy Birthday!”, it was a western-themed party. Hannah decorated the dining room as though it was a saloon. All the children were dressed like cowboys, running around, and shooting their fake toy guns as though they were in a shootout. 

The Target bag fell from Sid’s hand and onto the floor. This was his nightmare. Suddenly, Timmy ran up to him. Timmy wore a red and yellow checkered long-sleeved collar shirt, a cowhide vest, blue jeans, brown boots, a brown cowboy hat, and a red bandana tied around his neck. He was the epitome of the thing that haunted Sid for all those years, the thing that plagued his nightmares and the reason that holding that Target bag was excruciating agony for him.

“Yay, Uncle Sid,” Timmy said excitedly, “you came.”

Before Sid could reply, he found himself screaming at top of his lungs and running around, tearing down the banner and streamers, popping the balloons, and making all the children cry. He was a madman, crazed and manic. All he could hear was the cowboy’s voice telling him to play nice. Sid refused. No more playing nice. It took two dads to stop him right before he could damage the cake with the little cowboy holding a lasso on top.

            Sid was not invited to any more birthday parties after that. Hannah threw away the horse he bought for Timmy and severed all ties with him. It was most likely for the best.

“Hello, my name is Sid and I have Ludilophobia.” Sid said to the group.

            “Hi, Sid.” The group replied.

[adritakarimdrohee-blog]

“The invisible killer: The potential health effects of secondhand or passive smoking.”

Fatima Begum, a 35-year-old Bangladeshi woman who lives in a small village name Kamanna. She sought help from a local doctor after experiencing a sudden increase in headaches, who gave her a prescription for some over-the-counter medication. After some months, she did some medical tests and came to know that she had laryngeal cancer. While Fatima doesn't smoke, her husband does and smokes in the house and around her even though she doesn't. She has had a lot of health issues as a result of years of exposure to secondhand smoking. Fatima frequently feels nauseated, lightheaded, and headache, which she attributes to the smoke. She also experiences chest pain and trouble breathing. Her health has been slowly declining, and she has needed medical attention on a number of occasions. Even worse, Fatima is not the only member of her family who is impacted by passive smoking. Due to exposure to their father's smoking, her two kids, ages 7 and 9, have also developed respiratory issues and recurrent coughs. Her spouse has consistently ignored Fatima's requests to stop smoking or to smoke outside the home. He makes the case that he has the right to smoke at any time and that it is not his responsibility that his family is harmed. Regrettably, Fatima's story is not uncommon in Bangladesh. Daily exposure to second-hand smoke is common for non-smokers in this country, frequently without their knowledge. This is a serious public health concern that must be addressed.

What exactly is passive smoking or secondhand smoking?

A film that serves as an introduction to secondhand smoking,

The World Health Organization estimates that annual premature deaths from passive smoking total more than 600,000. More than 7,000 chemicals—many of them harmful and carcinogenic—are present in the smoke produced by cigarettes. By inhaling this smoke, a person increases their risk of contracting a variety of illnesses, such as lung cancer, heart disease, and infections of the lungs.

Children are more susceptible to passive smoking's effects. They are more vulnerable to problems with breathing since their lungs are smaller and still growing. Additionally, since they have little control over their surroundings, they are frequently exposed to smoke in their homes or cars.

The effects of passive smoking, commonly referred to as secondhand smoke, on children’s health can be profound. Here are a few possible outcomes:

● Childrenwhoareexposedtosecondhandsmokehaveahigher chance of contracting respiratory conditions such pneumonia, bronchitis, and asthma. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) estimate that each year in the United States, exposure to secondhand smoke results in 7,500 to 15,000 hospitalizations for respiratory diseases in newborns and young children younger than 18 months.

● AdocumentedriskfactorforSuddennewbornDeathSyndrome (SIDS), which is the sudden and unexplained death of an otherwise healthy newborn under one year of age, is secondhand smoking exposure. Up to 1,000 newborn deaths from SIDS occur each year in the United States as a result of secondhand smoke exposure, according to the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP).

● Earinfections,whichcanresultinhearinglossandotherissues, are more likely to occur in kids who are exposed to secondhand smoking. The American Academy of Pediatrics estimates that each year in the US, secondhand smoke exposure causes 790,000 cases of ear infections in children.

● Thelikelihoodofbehavioralissuesinchildren,suchas hyperactivity, aggression, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD), may increase if they are exposed to secondhand smoke. Children who were exposed to secondhand smoke were 50% more likely to experience behavioral issues than children who were not exposed, according to a study published in the journal Pediatrics.

Additionally, passive smoking has a sizable financial impact. The cost of smoking-related sickness in the United States alone is estimated by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention to be over $300 billion annually. This covers the price of medical care, lost productivity, and early mortality.

Many people still smoke near others despite the risks of passive smoking. To promote awareness and lessen the prevalence of passive smoking, numerous organizations and people are, nonetheless, making an effort.

Some last words

Millions of individuals worldwide are impacted by the substantial health risks associated with passive smoking. We may contribute to the protection of our own health and the health and wellbeing of our families, our communities, and our workplaces by bringing attention to the risks of passive smoking and implementing effective measures to reduce exposure to cigarette smoke. It is obvious that passive smoking poses a severe health risk and that we can all do our part to lessen the risks involved with this dangerous habit.

[stardust-is-demented-andinlove]

*COUGH COUGH* what?????? How did this get here??????

[creepfactors]

baby i can post art abt shit youve never even HEARD abt

[blapis-blazuli]

two characters, huh? Lilo Pelekai and Sid the Invisible Kid

My children!

Lilo would love Sid's Elvis impression. She'd like his other ones, but obviously Elvis would be her favorite one.

Similarly, Sid would love to hear all of Lilo's Elvis trivia.

She wouldn't be afraid of him or the other monsters, she'd find them cool and want to know more about them.

She'd like his standup routines.

In short, I can see them being friends.

Thank you for asking!

(Send me two or more characters and I'll give you headcanons for them)

[taddylonglegs]

Commission for @animatedc9000 of Sid the Invisible Kid from Gravedale High!

Want a Party On! Gif of your favorite character? Click here for details! ( Also tagging @blapis-blazuli as requested. )

[beesinspace]

I gotta be honest I'm kinda excited for the character redesigns you've been doing for Gravedale high, I'm most excited to see what you do with Sid (plz I'm begging give him pants) because I think it will be so interesting how you interrupt invisibility.

-Beelze 🐝

Jakajajha thank you so much!

Do not worry, giving the kid pants was right up there with changing Nefi name for me.

Unfortunately it may be a while until my next redesign/art comes out, life got busy again so my energy levels are suuuuuper low riiiipppp

But! I know the direction I wanna go with the rest of the designs and some sketches have already been made! It's just the final complete pieces that may take some time riipppp

Thank you for the ask!!

[anicdraws]

I just drew for the first time in a while and

(rainbow wig is implied, but this is merely a pencil drawing)

[nyan-ryder]

@pumpkin-mayoowo Got me into Gravedale High, and now I’m putting my grubby little gay paws aaallllll over it

[zootycutieart]

Day 20 of GravedaleTober was one I was waiting for: a Monster Swap! Sid and Gill were ones I were thinking of from the start that would be fun! And they were! Here's Sid as a gillman and Gill as an invisible man!