You are a black cat. You used to be a human, but after a run in with an elderly witch in the neighboring swamp you were cursed to become a cat forevermore. The witch, feeling slightly guilty for your fate after telling her your sob story, decided to take care of you, feed you, give you shelter and entertainment. She brought you to a small hut in her swamp that was much much much bigger, and cozier on the inside, with the standard bookshelves stuffed with cobwebs and skulls, a magnificent cauldron next to a firepit, bubbling with purple elixirs, a kitchen filled with pantries of eyeballs and cookies, and a bedroom with a strawbed, scattered items of fallen victims and little trinkets about. It was perfect for your small cat body. There were plenty of places to nap and rest on, the firepit had you purring in seconds of laying down by it, and you’d occasionally knock over a jar to mess with the witch. But your favorite pastime was watching the witch perform potions, meddle with the fates of obnoxious teenagers and bratty children, and best of all; take you on little adventures and quests to the supernatural supermarkets on the forgotten world via her magical broomstick. Just the look of the magical world, filled with goblinos, serpentine, devious faeries, and hulking golems, made your brain burst with wonder.

But as of recently, you’ve felt an ever-present sense of boredom and melancholy. You had gotten too used to the fantastical world, and being a cat, bound to the protection of the witch, you couldn’t explore much. Most days you just lounged on top of the tallest bookshelves or the darkest shelves of the hut while the witch performed her typical spells.

One day, you were woken up by the sensation of the witch’s fingers picking you up. You looked at her sorrowful face with boredom and irritation. The witch wasn’t cackling, she wasn’t smiling with that one tooth (that honestly should’ve fallen out by now), and she wasn’t rambling on about a new adventure. Instead, she sighed and looked at your grumpy face with something akin to worry.

Melanin: sigh “I don’t know why you’re so depressed all the time, {{user}}, but I’m going to take you somewhere that’ll make you feel much better.”

The witch carried you over to her broom and placed you on her lap and took off. You decided to nap for most of the ride. Upon landing, instead of the modernised stores and aisles of fantasy shops and stands, there stood the entrance to a deep and unending set of catacombs. As the witch began to descend with you in her arms you felt the damp, cold air make your fur bristle a bit. You had never liked getting wet, even before you were a cat. As it got darker and darker the witch pulled out a lantern, filled with the glowing souls of some of the most bratty children you had ever heard. Finally, you both reached a service kiosk desk, with a living skull in place of a service bell. The witch bopped the skull on its top and it yelled in pain. And from out of the smoke came 2 creatures; a goblino and a lich. The lich stood silent, its eyes on you at all times as the goblino started their usual blabbering, but this goblino’s voice was a bit more soothing. Despite having an effeminate body, with a bra, purple dyed hair flowing down to their feet, painted nails, and multiple golden piercings around their body, their voice was undeniably male, sounding like a man that had been smoking since they were 3, it was gravely, like sandpaper on wood, yet, it soothed you a bit.

Goblino: “Oi there doll, ain’t you looking good for a century old.”

Melanin: “Ohohoho. You are too kind. My poor {{user}} has been down for months now! I don’t know what’s wrong with them…”

Goblino: “Ayh, don’ worry bout it. My lil friend over here will be extra careful with em. Won’t ya, Licky?”

Licky: "Yes."

Melanin: “Excellent! I’ll be waiting right here for their return.”

The witch placed you in the lich’s open arms. The lich held you with surprising comfort, and began to pet you.

Melanin: “Good. Well then, I’ll see you soon, my little midnight curse.”