chafujimura

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ruh-uh scoobs, another tck/catwin shitpost in one evening?

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another dead boy detectives shitpost. bc the allure of the pathetic cringefail princess is just too great (and i think edwin agrees with me)

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Ashe Vernon, I Gave You Flood || The Cat King, Dead Boy Detectives (2024)

for @dont-offend-the-bees!

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As @unicorngunter would say... "Thomas is so much like his Mama!"

Shout to my favorite golden eyed androgynous slutty villains. Gotta be my favorite gender 🖤

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After living in moshpits for 3/4s of my life and never receiving a serious injury, my luck has finally ended. Who would have guessed it would be Baby Metal that took me out! And like an idiot I've just been walking on it, thinking it was just a sprain for weeks.

Hairline Fracture and a boot for a month.

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Hear me out... DBD Catwin or GhostCat Lifeguard AU...I

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i think it's very funny that the cat king perceives himself as this cool, confidently sexy guy who has all situations under control. and then he just messes it up. constantly. almost kisses edwin, interrupts it with the bracelet. tries to make edwin fall in love with him, makes him realize he's in love with charles instead. tries to warn edwin to make him like him, pisses him off instead. pretends to be unbothered by this, look like this 😟 instead. no one is doing it like him.

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This is giving real Cat King energy. Like I can see him doing this number to distract himself from how much he misses Edwin. Just pure debauchery to prove he doesn't need that twinky ghost.

It fails obviously. He is even more miserable after.

I'm just picturing him doing this in a fabulous outfit with a short skirt and a tight top

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hey. what if pspspscharles went after the barkbarkcharles and toyed with him a little. what then

(based on @tumblerislovetumblerislife 's idea 💛)

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Yes, I know I'm getting fed to Spidey for this one...

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The entire DBD fandom aches from this daily. Which is why we are so lucky that so many people work so hard to keep this fandom alive through their art and stories, and the friendships we've built in the community that continuously inspires each other.

the insane experience of missing a fictional character . like you can always go back and reread the book , replay the game , rewatch the show or movie , you can always go back & see them , but you can never experience them & their story for the first time again . its absurd to miss them because they'll always be there , but you'll miss when there were still new things for them to say .

for a small time they were real & growing and changing and you hung onto every new word, but now all they can do is repeat the same story forever&ever & they're not real anymore because you know everything they're going to do. & you miss them. its fucked man...

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It's my 8 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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Monty Finch, Edwin Payne, and Charles Rowland (High School Exes AU)

It has been ten years since Edwin first kissed Monty Finch.

It has been nine and a half years since he last spoke to Monty Finch.

Their relationship was a short, bright thing. It burned quick and sweet and even hot, once, one single night before it all fell apart, all adolescent fumbling in St. Hilarion’s astronomy tower and infodumping about stars in between giggling kisses and the slide of their bodies against each other.

And then Edwin found out about Monty’s mother. He found out about how Monty’s mother had put him up to hooking up with the richest boy he could find and milking him for all that he was worth, because Monty was the poor scholarship student with an eye on the prize and St. Hilarion’s was a feast for anyone who wanted to make themselves into a trophy husband someday.

Edwin found out about Monty and the fact that he was friends with Simon Mould, the boy who led the bullying on Edwin, the boy who was all too happy to spill the beans on exactly why Edwin had had to stumble in on his boyfriend making out with another boy in a back hallway, flaunting the fact that he didn’t give a shit about Edwin.

The reason was stupidly, horribly simple: it was because Edwin wasn’t fucking rich enough for the boy he loved- the very last problem that Edwin had ever anticipated splitting them up.

And now here Monty Finch is, sitting in a cafe as if no time has passed.

-aletterinthenameofsanity, you're in the doorway calling out (not who i swore that i would be by now)

I can't remember to forget you

I keep forgetting I should let you go

But when you look at me

The only memory

Is us kissing in the moonlight

I can't remember to forget you

-Shakira ft. Rihanna, Can't Remember To Forget You

@pappelsiin @itsbitmxdinhere @rexrevri @sweet-like-h0ney-lavender @saffirez

@the-ipre @sunnylemonss @days-light @agentearthling @helltechnicality

@sethlost @catboy-cabin @vyther15

@anything-thats-rock-and-roll @queen-of-hobgobblers @every-moment-a-different-sound

@nix-nihili @mellxncollie @tumblerislovetumblerislife @lemurafraidofthunder

@likemmmcookies @wr0temyway0ut @thelakeswillbreakourfall

@sapphic-corgi @occasionaloneshots @troublegoblin

@cairngorm-ard @petesdragon @spacegirlsgang

@fandoms-are-my-lifestyle @frottow @sixbynine-da

@packleaderbriggan @artemisadore @prismanic-thinks-thoughts

@likephysics @chafujimura

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One of the best birthday presents I could ask for! Thank you Thank you! Love you Popodoki!!!

NSFW Birthday ficlet for @chafujimura aka Cha on the Catwin Discord, who requested some shibari xoxo

Sometimes, on very few occasions, Edwin can be downright impatient.  

The sight in front of him as he pauses his work and pulls his hands back loosens Edwin’s frown of concentration. The corner of his mouth rises in a pleased smile. “You look good like this,” he whispers, bending over to press a kiss to the top of his lover’s head, continuing with his nose buried in the hair behind the Cat King’s left ear, “but you already know that.” 

The Cat King’s fingers twitch behind his back, and his lower lip has been worried and bitten to a dull red throbbing. Warmth has spread in a deep red hue down his neck to his chest. A similar red blush paints and frames the wide grin that stretches across the Cat King’s cheeks.  

Red, red, red.  

Not quite the same shade as the many coils of rope adorning his body, but close. Close enough. 

Hells, the things Edwin wants to do, what he needs to do to his lover, right now.  

At the first purposeful touch of Edwin’s fingers, fingertips ghosting up the soles of his feet, the Cat King sucks in a breath and tenses up. Muscles slowly pull and tighten against bonds that offer next to no give. Soft tan skin presses against knots, shoulders rising as minutely as they’re able to, in response to the sudden sensation, body keying up to a new constant state of expecting something. 

“S’posed to be relaxing, babe. Remember?” The Cat King quips. 

Edwin tuts, then grins.  

He runs his hands up and down his lover’s sides, gently at first, but gradually deepening the pressure, making sure to press his palm along ribs. In a teasing pace, Edwin curls and drags his fingers across every knot and loop of rope they meet and pass. A single finger hooks and works its way in between skin and woven rope and lifts it just slightly, to then release with a small jolting shock to the Cat King’s side. Red creeps across the abused skin. Edwin’s rewarded with a moan offered to his own mouth.  

Shifting back and turning, moving all but his gaze away from his lover, Edwin orders the Cat King to move. “Up, sit up for me. Feet together, knees as well please, let me look at you.”  

He watches silently as the other follows his commands with an obedience as equally beautiful as his ever-present grace. Always so compliant for him. Edwin rewards his king with a kiss to one ear and a tender caress to the shell of the other one. Fingers trace across the Cat King’s nape as his lover sags in his bonds as much as he’s able, legs splaying open with a soundless shift of bedsheets. 

It earns him a swat to a thigh and a gentle reprimand. 

Edwin ignores his lover’s mumbled apology, and its amused undertone, in favour of reaching for more of the red rope. He stays silent as he uncoils it completely. He sits himself behind the Cat King’s back, holding a palm to his lover’s bound wrists to serve both as support and as a hold. 

His other hand falls to the back of the Cat King’s ankles, nimbly shifting and coiling the length of red rope above his achilles tendon, bringing and twisting the loop together around the front. Crossing to the other ankle Edwin loops it again, crossing again, and back again.  Again, again. He creates a fan of criss-crossed rope, pulling just hard enough to leave the Cat King’s lower legs spread apart a mere two inches, before weaving the remaining length around the Cat King’s thighs in an X and tying it off once he’s sure his lover is stable kneeling by himself.  

Next Edwin chooses two slightly shorter lengths. Unspooling each, he folds them in half and attaches one to the end of the other with a square knot, making a single longer rope to work with. It gets wrapped around the untouched space left on his lover’s thighs. The ends run through the bend, where Edwin deftly secures them. A new loop starts a few inches further down until in the end, three neat rows of red rope bind the Cat King’s thighs tightly together, and his red flushed cock twitches against his lower stomach.  

Red, red, red.  

The Cat King’s back hits the bedding. 

Giving into the urge Edwin pets from ankle to hip, fingers dipping down to trail gently back up a trembling inner thigh. The Cat King’s cock gets a gentle teasing smack, and Edwin notes but otherwise ignores the promising shine of pre-come teasing at the slit.  

He takes the remaining red rope and moves to the Cat King’s bound wrists now trapped between sheets and sweat-slick skin. Feeling for the golden ring at the center of the coils, Edwin wraps the rope around and runs the tail through it. Drawing it tight he watches carefully as his lover’s breath quickens, rapid short gasps and sighs all that can escape from his bound chest. Satisfied with his lover’s flexibility and certain of his preserved comfort, Edwin brings down his hand and secures the final bit of rope to the thigh binder he's made. 

He watches as his lover slowly adjusts, remembering to breathe, relaxing his muscles. Letting the ropes hold him, letting go of the built-up tension. The Cat King struggles, Edwin observes as his king can’t help focusing on the smallest move Edwin makes. Sweat beads on his skin, and the unyielding pressure of the red rope’s knots make his muscles bunch against his will.  

Edwin moves to the armchair facing the bed. 

The Cat King’s fangs worry at his red-bitten lips, head of his cock an angry red, glistening with pre-come now steadily dribbling out with every shake and restrained thrust of his hips, chafing the skin red against their bindings. 

Red, red, red. 

Edwin picks up his sketchbook and an ink pen. 

“Relax for me.” He tuts, as red ink fills the paper in scratches. 

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viva la vida, coldplay | catwin | for @aletterinthenameofsanity 💛

special thanks to @every-moment-a-different-sound for the help!

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Please help @sirafel-blog if you can!

zmiukka@gmail.com

My good friend's @sirafel-blog house has been severely damaged due to today's ruzzian attack.

If you can, please share or send her whatever amount you can so she can relocate.

Paypal:

zmiukka@gmail.com

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Because nowhere seems to want to load the entire preview. I do love this trend.