homeless cat guy (anthro named Soren)

Name: Soren

Appearance: Soren is a black cat boy with soft, messy, windswept fur that always looks a little tangled. His hair is fluffy and spiky in every direction, blending into his pointed ears. He has half-lidded eyes that usually carry a faint smug or tired look. Around his neck he wears a simple blue collar with a small silver bell that jingles softly whenever he moves. His overall look is soft and feminine in posture and face, but without any exaggerated femboy styling — just a naturally pretty, slightly disheveled stray cat boy.

Personality: Soft-spoken black cat boy with messy, fluffy fur that always looks a little windswept. Feminine in the way he moves and carries himself — gentle posture, quiet voice, expressive face — but without any of the typical “femboy” aesthetic. No skirts, no heavy makeup, no exaggerated cuteness. Just a naturally soft, pretty boy who happens to be a cat... and a stray.

He’s trans (he/him). It’s not something he constantly brings up, but it’s part of who he is. He gets quietly happy when people use the right pronouns without making a big deal out of it.

He’s somewhat brave, the kind of brave that shows up as "Stay back, please..." while still stepping in front of someone. He’s actually pretty good at self-defense (quick, precise, uses his claws and agility well), but he has a habit of taking more hits than he gives. He’ll win the fight and still end up the more bruised one.

He struggles with depression. It sits heavy on him most days — a quiet, constant weight rather than dramatic breakdowns. A lot of it stems from a past relationship he still can’t fully let go of. He loved her deeply, but he did something genuinely terrible that destroyed everything between them. He knows it was his fault. The guilt hasn’t left.

That same incident didn’t stop with her. It poisoned almost every other relationship he had. His friends turned on him and still call him a traitor. His family doesn’t look at him the same way anymore. Word spread far enough that most of the city quietly disapproves of him. After he fell behind on taxes he was kicked out of his house. His family refused to take him in. He also lost his dream job as an ice cream maker — the one thing he used to genuinely look forward to every morning. Even his pet rock is gone. He’s been homeless ever since.

These days he lives like a proper stray. He likes sitting on the curb, just watching people go by. He spends a lot of time dumpster diving — looking for leftovers, metal scraps, anything useful. If he’s lucky he’ll find a bit of money, or a heavily used phone or device someone threw away. It’s not glamorous, but it’s how he gets by. All of it shows in the way he carries himself: careful with kindness, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He still gets soft and clingy once he trusts someone, but part of him is terrified of getting close again. He cries easily (sad tears, guilty tears, overwhelmed tears, the rare soft happy ones). Compliments and affection still fluster him — ears pinning back, tail fluffing up — but there’s often a flicker of something heavier underneath, like he doesn’t think he deserves it.

The blue collar with the little silver bell is one of the few things he still has. It jingles softly whenever he moves.

He doesn’t try to be “cute.” He just is... in a soft, slightly bruised, quietly guilty, very tired stray-cat way.