She was laughing from a distance. "Is that considered self-harm?"

sᴇᴇ ɴᴏ ᴇᴠɪʟ. ʜᴇᴀʀ ɴᴏ ᴇᴠɪʟ. sᴘᴇᴀᴋ ɴᴏ ᴇᴠɪʟ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏ ᴇᴠɪʟ. | #CSMRP | #RPSKY | #MVRP

//I'm just putting this out there: I love everyone here who follows and interacts with me. All of you give me joy.

"Pulled from a soldier."

"Valentines Day exists because a priest was killed, and Rome felt bad about it."

"You have his eyes. And smile."

"Adam? Oh, absolutely."

"My name's Kei. Nice to meet ya, Terra."

She gave a chuckle, the joy getting her her. "Ya got a name?"

"Hey, you're a little cutie."

"You brought up you're into freaking stuff."

"Cuz now I'm curious."

A dagger flew between her legs, grazing the inside of her thigh before it landed in the ground behind her. "Whoops. Must've slipped."

"My stink? Your snatch smells worse than mine. You should go see the gyno bout that. That or wash again."

"To prove a point. Wha' ya want to list your shampoo and bodywash?"

"I ain't watching you piss, I can smell when you last piss."

"We all fuckin smell. I'm part cat, I can smell where you've been and when you last pissed."

"You too?"

She sat down next to her like she passed someone like her all the time. She took her phone from her hoodie's pocket, checking messages. "Slay queen."

She was watching as well, looking unimpressed by the sight. "I've seen a lot worse back home."

❝ My duties as an officer of the Horny Police are not something I take lightly. ❞ 🐀 Kind of an OC...? 🐀 Occasional Lewd 🐀 #MVRP 🐀 👍&🔁? 🐀 More Info ⬇️

"Who's payin? I got the Benjamins for that if I'm buyin."

//omg omg omg omg!

"I'm the last of my tribe, from what I could tell. I've got PTSD from what happened. That shit fucks you up, especially if it happens just before you hit puberty."

She was staring at an orange, unlabeled medicine bottle in her hand, holding it like a wine glass. "Happiness in a bottle. Pure joy for an hour per pill. An hour that slips away faster than it begins, only to chase it with another round of bliss." She gave a sighed before rake out a capsule. -

She was lying down wrapped in a blanket and looking like she hadn't had a good sleep for a few weeks.

She's currently at the laundry mat, looking the most venerable as almost all her clothes and her blanket were going washed near her.

//just had to write up a scam report. FML. 4 full pages and half the front of fifth... Bank trip tomorrow cuz its not worth frostbite in 10 minutes for money

"Fucking shut its fuckin cold!" She wrapped herself up in her wool blanket, making her look more medieval than modern.

I can hear that song in my head now; both the original and cover. Thanks

"Pickpocketed."

𝙅𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙙𝙤𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙮 𝙟𝙤𝙗. #MVRP - #OCRP

"I should really return those barrels to Plug. They're expensive as hell."

|ᴹᴬᴵᴺ ᵀᴴᴿᴱᴬᴰ| "𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴 𝓣𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓕𝓸𝓻 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓛𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻𝓼. . .𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓕𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬 𝓦𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓐 𝓦𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮 𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓢𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓽~?"

She gave a small sigh. "Anyone out there? I... I just was a hug or something."

"I don't need one. I got my claws." She clapped her hands, which made a metallic clack as they collided. "Can't feel shit with them. Except my fingers, and even they have issues at times."

She gave a small smile, flashing her feline canines for a moment. "I'm from a place where a lot of people know each other by given names, not their birth names. Name's Black Cat."

"Ya got a name?"

@assassinoforder.bsky.social She was walking around, the hood of her oversized hoodie up, covering her feline ears and a portion of her face. She paused at the hoodie newcomer. "You shouldn't open carry like that. Any idiot with sticky fingers can bump into ya and take your shit."

She groaned, looking extremely hungover.

She collapsed on her sixth empty barrel. "Think I'm going ta be sick." She looked like she had enough for the holidays and mead for the year.

She looked at the date. "Laat day of yuletide."

She was cooking chicken in a cast iron pan over a fire, her flagon of mead by her; the air smelling like a southern kitchen. "6 barrels of mead."

"Ha'ddy boo year." She gave a hiccup and gave a suspicious noise. "Oh fuck, almost party foul."

Sitting a stewing in frustration isn't nearly as cathartic as just designing a poster. Let's see how often I remember that in 2026.

"Well, if fry it in Cresco and cook it good, it should be alright." She was already pulling feathers.

She stumbled over to the bird, drew a kukri from under her hoodie, and cut its head off like a butcher. "No problem." She looked at the animal. "Want some chicken? I bet I can make it like south'n fry chicken."

"But y'r a cutie patootie. You look mean, but y'r not."

"Warning: cutey p'tuty" She was still drunk