Ficus elastica

So one year for charity different pro athletes get asked to participate in a live game based on one of those “how well do you know your partner” games but instead it’s “how well do you know your rival” and participating means you get to raise money for a charity of your choice and obviously Shane and Ilya want to promote the Irina Project so they agree and go up against other current famous rivals from other sports

And Shane and Ilya discuss ahead of time that obviously they’ll have to just play things off as they usually do, light hearted chirps back and forth and what not, “winning” is just for the show and won’t impact how much money gets made for their charity so it doesn’t matter. Except then they get there and become overtaken by the need to Win and Be the Best and they are the best. So without needing to discuss changing the plan, as soon as the questions start they lock in and decide that actually they have to demolish everyone else

The other rivals are laughing and making jokes at the questions but Shane and Ilya are deadly serious and the host starts to get a little weirded out by the fact that they actually know the answers and aren’t just saying things like “how many goals last season? Probably one less than me haha” and actually have each others stats memorized

Because the audience is loving it they go to a lightning round that’s just Shane and Ilya and it’s now the usual couple game questions and they’re still getting them right because they can make excuses for knowing later, right now is about Winning

“What is Shane’s favorite breakfast?”

“Kale protein shake with a scoop of peanut butter and a handful of blueberries.”

“Ok um, what is Ilya’s favorite breakfast?”

“Two sausage egg McMuffins with an extra slice of cheese and hashbrowns.”

“What is something on Shane’s bucket list?”

“Sleeping in one of those see through igloos under the northern lights.”

“What is something on Ilya’s bucket list?”

“That thing where you feed giraffes at a zoo.”

“Ok last one. I think we all know Shane’s answer is former paramour Rose Landry, but who do you think is the most famous person Rozanov has ever slept with is?”

*through teeth gritted so tight he is in danger of chipping one* “Probably a model. Or something.”

“… Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Because what do you mean they went to the batting cages for some silly fun to watch everyone flail at an unfamiliar sport, only for Shane to need three practice swings before figuring out the force and timing needed to start hitting every single pitch? What do you mean he sets the course record at the mini golf place they have the Pike twins birthday at? What do you mean he learned how to play cricket over a long weekend in the UK? What do you MEAN your Canadian ass that grew up on a calm, tiny lake went to visit Rose in LA and just learned to surf from “some guy” one of the days she was busy??

Shane doesn’t get why they all think it’s so crazy. He’s a professional athlete, he’s good at full body and mind control as well as adaptability and hand-eye coordination, and he’s so used to being the best in the world at hockey that he views being mundanely good at anything else as barely noticeable. He argues with Troy over whether he counts as being good at basketball just because he killed them all at the basketball shooting game at a Dave and Buster’s

They all start making bets to see who can find a sport Hollander isn’t good at. Harris is convinced he’ll win with figure skating because Shane’s muscle memory will want to work against him with a technique that’s so similar but also so different, only for Shane to come out of an afternoon learning from his old friend who was at the Olympics with the ability to do simple jumps and spins and is insisting the whole team learn so they can incorporate it into plays. Harris is not allowed to make suggestions after that

One of my favorite tropes is "I'm not stuck in here with you, you're stuck in here with me" which often goes hand in hand with another favorite trope "horror movie scene from the pov of the horror"

So unsurprisingly one of my favorite scenes in PD is when Murderbot intimidates the shit out of the wannabe space pirates, locking them in their own ship and playing evidence of their crimes on their own TV

But my absolute favorite part is that it works too well and they all instantly surrender, leaving Murderbot standing there like 'um actually I was kinda planning on killing you guys but it feels weird now that you're like crying and shit'

-ancient roman posca: water, red or white wine vinegar, honey, salt, herbs (coriander, mint, thyme)

-switchel: water, ginger, vinegar, sweetener, lemon, salt

-ayran: yogurt, water, salt, mint

-sees the reports of the heatwave in Europe-

"Breathing heavy": do you mean panting? Coughing? Reverse sneezing? Labored abdominal breathing?

"Not moving": does the animal not *want* to get up but physical can and will if you pester it? Is it conscious but truly unable to get up? Are the hind legs specifically not working? Is the animal limp/unmoving when you pick it up?

"Has a wound": is this a superficial scratch or did the animal tangle with barbed wire? Are all pieces of the animal still attached? Also, did this happen today, yesterday, last week or 3 weeks ago?

"Limping": is there a subtle hitch in their giddyup? Are they bearing weight at all? Are they toe-touching or holding it up entirely?

"Difficulty walking": are they able to walk *at all*? Are they dragging a leg or legs? Are they walking like they're drunk? Are they circling to one side?

"Not eating": do you mean just their regular food but will eat treats? Are they eating less? Eating slower but still finishing it? Or are they refusing to swallow even their favorite food?

I nod, setting down my chalk and spellbook. “It does sound like there might have been a bit of a misunderstanding.”

“She took against me, that's what happened,” the dead girl says with a scowl. She looks about fourteen, round faced and spotty, with whisps of brown hair peaking out from under her mob-cap. Her face and her crossed arms have a tell-tale bluish tinge to them. A cholera death.

“I been here for don't know how long and never gave any trouble. Nobody ever complained about me 'till her.”

…well, that's not strictly true.

Number 12, Barclay Street has been attracting rumours of haunting since the mid nineteenth century.

Sounds of faint singing and crying in the corridors at night. Cold spots. Doors that open and close by themselves. Animals acting strangely. Harmless, mid to low-level stuff, typical for a bored teenage poltergeist.

Still, pointing that out isn't likely to achieve much, and certainly the most recent complaints of blood running down the walls, screams in the dark and paralysing night terrors seem distinctly out of character.

The ghost toes the chalk again, more tentatively this time. It stays resolutely unbroken.

She could get out if she wanted to. I'm not one of those assholes who brings out their full arsenal of wards and sigils for a first meeting with a level 2 spectre. The summoning circle will keep her in one place for as long as I need her to talk, but it wouldn't hold for a moment if she really fought against it.

I take it as a good sign that she's still here. Pouting or not, she's clearly willing to work with me.

“None of the others could do this,” she says. “None of 'em even saw me.” She looks up. “Are you here to exise me?”

“Exorcise,” I say instinctively, and curse myself when she flinches. “Sorry, no, no! I don't exorcise people from their homes without good reason, not if they're happy where they are.”

“I was happy. Till she started calling in all them ghost hunters.”

Mrs Delaney had been quite persistent in her attempts to 'fix' her haunted house. Most of the people she found were charlatans, of course, but I'd still arranged an appointment as fast as I could once word reached me. It wouldn't have been long before she happened upon somebody with Talent, and unfortunately not everybody in this field knows how to behave like a professional.

“I think we might be able to help each other,” I say, careful to keep my voice calm and level.

“Don't see how. Not unless you can exorcise Her.”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” I pull out my phone and scroll through my photos. “You say that you're not the cause of the most recent incidents of paranormal activity?”

A pause. The ghost gnaws on her lip. I wait, patiently, keeping my body language open and nonthreatening. “I… I knocked her coffee cup over,” she admits at last. “She was being mean and talking on her telephone, saying I done all these things when I never did! So I decided to show her what I could do if I wanted.”

“Hmm.” The ghost eyes me nervously, as if expecting me to pull out a book, bell and candle and banish her on the spot.

“I only tipped it,” she adds. “I didn't break it or nothing!”

“You shouldn't have touched it at all,” I say sternly. “But… I can appreciate that you were frustrated, so let's say no more about it.”

The ghost looks relieved.

“My point is,” I continue, “if you weren't the one making blood rain from the ceiling or tormenting people in their sleep, then what was? There's no other ghosts on the property.” I find the picture I was looking for. “You can get anywhere around the house, right? Including behind the furniture and in the backs of cupboards?”

“Yes'm.”

I hold the phone up so that she can see the picture on the screen. “I'm going to let you go free in a moment, and I need you to see if you can find anything that looks like this.”

The ghost wrinkles her forehead. “What's that when it's at home?”

“Ulysses Grant Dietz grew up in Syracuse, New York, where his Leave it to Beaver life was enlivened by his fascination with vampires, from Bela Lugosi to Barnabas Collins. He studied French at Yale (BA, 1977), and was trained to be a museum curator in the University of Delaware’s Winterthur Program in American Material Culture (MA, 1980). A decorative arts curator at the Newark Museum for thirty-seven years before he retired, Ulysses has never stopped writing for the sheer pleasure of it. Aside from books on Victorian furniture, art pottery, studio ceramics, jewelry, and the White House, Ulysses created the character of Desmond Beckwith in 1988 as his personal response to Anne Rice’s landmark novels. Alyson Books released his first novel, Desmond, in 1998. Vampire in Suburbia, the sequel, appeared in 2012. His most recent novel, Cliffhanger, was released by JMS Books in December 2020.

“Ulysses lives in suburban New Jersey with his husband of 45 years. They have two grown children, adopted in 1996.

And like there was no permanent cast, all these celebrities seem to have gotten a scene or part of a scene to do (i’m not sure exactly, I did not ever watch Quibi and thus haven’t seen this yet), and then they just… recreated it as best they could. At home. Under quarantine.

So like, you had Jennifer Garner in a blanket cape playing Princess Buttercup AND the Booing Old Woman with a crowd comprised entirely of stuffed animals:

Or Taika Waititi paying Westley off a badly-drawn Inigo on a piece of cardboard held in front of someone’s face:

And it’s all just delightful.

But my absolute favorite part of this thing that I’ve sadly never seen but assume is probably absolutely hilarious and a treasure and I want to find it some day and watch the whole thing… is that Carey Elwes is in it.

As Prince Fucking Humperdink.

Here ya go

Years ago, I sold a bunch of my photo gear after my parents got sick. We needed the money and I didn't really think I'd be doing photography again. It just didn't seem important at the time. I was taking care of two dying people and making art seemed pointless.

I recently mentioned that I sold my telephoto lens and a follower messaged me about their zoom lens that had been sitting on a shelf collecting dust for quite some time. They asked if I could make good use of it.

So, I have been devising a plan on how to do some bird photography while I am still stuck in bed recovering.

My mom bought this really cool bird bath that is very on theme for me.

I set it up outside my window. I decided to fill it up with bird chow rather than water. And over the past week I have been figuring out a workflow to photograph birds from bed.

My camera has a wireless radio trigger that also sets off the flash. And I can activate the trigger from anywhere in the house. I have my security camera watching the bowl of seeds and it sets off a motion alarm whenever a bird stops by.

I did some exposure tests with Baby Yoda. It seems the lens was a little more telephoto than I thought.

But I figured birds are small and they would be in frame.

Maybe I'll zoom out a little just to be safe.

I soon got my first customer.

A female cardinal stopped by.

Do you see her?

Okay, so my first attempt didn't quite go according to plan.

But look at how sharp that lens is!

I'm sure I will iron out the kinks.

I've been doing this 5 minutes at a time for days. I've been a little frustrated with how little energy I have to work on this project. But the hardest bits are solved.

Now I just need more birds to show up.

The Rodeo Rule: you only have to do it for the first time once.

The Rohan Rule: if you are at a social function full of new people and you want to be liked, find someone doing important work like setup or food prep and offer to help.

The Tutorial Mode Rule: to navigate an unfamiliar situation where you fear you will mess up an interaction, preface the interaction by mentioning that you've never done this before, and let them know if you have a specific concern or question.

The Rocket Science Rule: most new things you want to try seem very complicated but are simple when taken step by step.

The [X] Will Remember That Rule: if you need to make small talk with the same person on a regular basis, try to save one fact or current event in their life from a given conversation and bring it up next time you talk.

I am once again begging people to realize that AI checker doesn’t work. it’s never worked. it’s notoriously known to have flagged human-made works as AI and AI-generated works as human-made. and by feeding it people’s works, you are feeding more works to AI, because apparently the machine itself is AI.