Heal Me, Hockey Gays

[saxbrightwell]

It’s a difficult winter, harder than last year. I haven’t broken any bones, but that also means I’ve been working a lot. Current World Affairs have stayed bleak as shit and started hitting closer to home. Efforts to keep hyperfixation roots sunk into my own writing have not shown much success. I’m dogless.

 

Into this grim era came the same ray of queer sunshine that so many other people needed as much as me or more: Heated Rivalry. A beautiful love story told by men who powerlifted their way to C-cups in order to deliver more pining-while-fucking than I’ve ever seen outside of top-shelf fanfiction. With a happy ending! I’ve lost several weeks to cycling between rewatches of the show, reading fanfic, and trawling the tumblr tag for the funniest shitposts. But are those weeks really lost? I don’t think so, not when I’m immersing myself in the exact frequency of emotional M/M smut that is my lifeblood.

 

Like Interview With The Vampire, I don’t foresee myself developing the urge to write fanfic of my own. I rarely do, in megafandoms, because everything I could possibly want to read is already available a dozen times over. I’m just there to get hydrated in the tsunami of enthusiasm brought on by Connor Storrie’s perfectly round buttocks and Hudson Williams’ big brown eyes, and go back to my own writing once I’m replenished.