the trope of ‘this entity exists only because we think it does’ is so so so fucking good and cannot be overdone in my opinion
like the idea that you built the monster hunting you, that you invited the entity into our world, that your fear is what it feeds on, and that once made real, it cannot possibly be killed because you’re stuck in this loop of ‘he’s real because i’m scared’ and ‘i’m scared because he’s real’
I’ll flip this and say it’s also my fav tropes on gods.
A deity exists because you believe in it. The more believers the stronger it grows. The power of prayer and faith being tangible and coveted, like a currency in an invisible economy of power…
I love it and used it in short stories and will keep doing it because I just love the concept of the human psyche bringing about its monsters as well as its saviours.
i think a lot of heated rivalry criticism boils down to the fact that people don’t understand that romance can in fact be a genre on its own with its own conventions rather than a sideplot to a bigger storyline. “heated rivalry had no plot” the romance IS the plot. it is a romance storyline. like this cannot be that difficult to understand. what do you want them to do? go on a mystical quest?
shane hollander and ilya rozanov seek a lost puck in the alps
obsessed with this poor guy who gets dragged away from his takeout menu so his evil bisexual roommate can go have the worst club experience of his life
OKAY WHAT WE’RE GONNA DO HERE IS TALK ABOUT WHO THIS MAN IS. BUCKLE THE FUCK UP.
This is Harrison Browne. He’s a trans man, activist, actor, former pro, and the first openly transgender athlete in professional hockey. He came out in 2016 when he played for the now-defunct NWHL’s Buffalo Beauts. The same season he came out, he went on to win the NWHL’s Isobel Cup championship. A year later, he did it again. When he retired in order to medically transition, he retired as a champion.
In 2025 he and his sister Rachel Browne wrote a book everyone should read called Let Us Play: Winning The Battle for Gender Diverse Athletes. He’s an icon, a trailblazer, and a goddamned delight. Hockey is better for having him anywhere near it.
He’s also written and directed an autobiographical film that premiered last year at TIFF!
Tiffany couldn’t quite work out how Miss Level got paid. Certainly the basket she carried filled up more than it emptied. They’d walk past a cottage and a woman would come scurrying out with a fresh-baked loaf or a jar of pickles, even though Miss Level hadn’t stopped there. But they’d spend an hour somewhere else, stitching up the leg of a farmer who’d been careless with an axe, and get a cup of tea and a stale biscuit.
It didn’t seem fair.
“Oh, it evens out,” said Miss Level, as they walked on through the woods.
“You do what you can. People give what they can, when they can. Old Slapwick there, with the leg, he’s as mean as a cat, but there’ll be a big cut of beef on my doorstep before the week’s end, you can bet on it. His wife will see to it. And pretty soon people will be killing their pigs for the winter, and I’ll get more brawn, ham, bacon and sausages turning up than a family could eat in a year.”
“You do? What do you do with all that food?”
“Store it,” said Miss Level.
“But you-”
“I store it in other people. It’s amazing what you can store in other people.” Miss Level laughed at Tiffany’s expression. “I mean, I take what I don’t need round to those who don’t have a pig, or who’re going through a bad patch, or who don’t have anyone to remember them.”
“But that means they’ll owe you a favour!”
“Right! And so it just keeps on going round. It all works out.”
“I bet some people are too mean to pay-”
“Not pay,” said Miss Level, severely. “A witch never expects payment and never asks for it and just hopes she never needs to. But, sadly, you are right.”
“And then what happens?“
“What do you mean?”
“You stop helping them, do you?”
“Oh, no,” said Miss Level, genuinely shocked. “You can’t not help people just because they’re stupid or forgetful or unpleasant. Everyone’s poor round here. If I don’t help them, who will?”
