CatchAsCatchCan



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    Summary

    “I’m very sorry to even be asking you this,” Charles starts, looking uncomfortable but determined. He reaches out for Oscar’s hand again, almost unthinkingly. Oscar holds it out to him in turn without considering a single alternative.

    What is he supposed to do? Not give Charles Leclerc his hand when he gestures for it? Likely fuckin’ story, that.

    Once he steps close, Charles lets him go, hands folded demurely in his lap while looking up at him with his cartoonishly sparkling big green eyes.

    “But you are very sweet and kind and you smell very good and you are here—I know you have a girlfriend and you are both cute and in love, but do you think she would mind if you fucked me, just for tonight?”

    *

    Or, Charles gets drugged at the bar and goes into an unexpected pre-heat. Oscar helps.

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    31 May 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    “Kiss me now,” he says, less of a request and more of a statement that he knows, without a doubt, will have action following.

    In response, Oscar leans down easier than anything. Hinges right at the waist and grabs Charles’ flushed, perfect face in both hands to kiss him square on the mouth.

  2. Rec *

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    The picturesque village of Buell, Maine is one of the last in the United States to continue the tradition of the “harvest” or “prosperity” lottery. Its residents insist the lottery makes them stronger, even as condemnation from outsiders grows.

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    07 Jan 2026

    Bookmarker's Notes

    Let’s be clear here, when you say “selected” you mean “stoned to death.”

    Just like an adult would be in that circumstance, yeah.

  3. Rec 90

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    One of them would go to the draft lottery winning Aces and one of them would go to the Leafs and they’d meet twice a year barring any injuries because God knows they wouldn’t be sent down to the minors. Sending Kent Parson or Jack Zimmermann down to the minors would be like sending your prize stallion out to the stables when everyone paid to see a fucking show. They’d insert feline hissing noises into the broadcast and caption it “Catfight,” they’d compare their game-day suits and judge who was hotter (not on like, Hockey Night in Canada, but on the dudebro hockey blogs that Kent pretends she doesn’t read). Kent would hate it, but accept it, because it would all mean being on the ice with Zimms again. She’d skate circles around Jack in the warm ups, bucket-less with her hair and chirps flowing and Jack? Jack would smile, helmet on, the picture of austerity save the glimmer of a smirk in her eyes.

    They’d had limited edition Barbies made, for fuck’s sake. Kent’s got one in a box on her mantle. The doll has its own hockey stick but the skates are high heeled. You win some, you lose more.

    Language:
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    10 Jan 2020

    Bookmarker's Notes

    "Kent is an anomaly, a bug in the system. Someday, the NHL will course correct and things will revert to the old normal."

  4. Rec *

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    It's 1959, and the mayor of Chicago is dead.

    Language:
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    24 Mar 2020

    Bookmarker's Notes

    "“The last pages are approaching,” says Hamlet, his voice soft. “The reader’s almost ready to close the book. Do you think they’ll weep for me?”

    “You’re not a novel,” says Horatio. “You’re not a book. You don’t have a story, you have a life—”

    Hamlet laughs, his eyes bright. “I don’t think I’ll have either,” he says, “soon,” and then he coughs, and his lungs sound so empty."

  5. Rec 57

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    Klavier goes through relationships like most people go through water.

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    03 Jan 2021

    Bookmarker's Notes

    "Apollo nods, but he disagrees with part of that. Klavier is being himself. Apollo is pretty sure that this insanely focused, completely intense individual is who Klavier naturally is. Klavier always worked so hard to watch himself, to tone himself down, to make himself tolerable to be around and with. He was polite and friendly and sometimes even personable. He was likeable.

    But Klavier is out of control. He's very much like his brother. Kristoph was always in control, always careful, until he wasn't. But even then he was focused and he was full-on and there was no stopping the intensity of his very presence. He was dark and smothering and oppressive. Klavier, here and now, is exactly the same."