E.J.

4

✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽ Moonlight drowned the world in silver when news of the Catify Virus finally reached the castle. What began as whispers of infected strays had become catastrophe. Entire cities now crawled with transformed humans—ears, tails, claws, instincts overtaking reason. The virus spread faster each night, turning the world into something unfamiliar. Far below, screams echoed through the streets. Yet atop the cathedral balcony, E.J. remained still. Nyx stood behind her, vast beneath the full moon, stained-glass wings glowing faintly with crimson and violet light. His red eyes followed the chaos below with visible disgust. Vesper fluttered anxiously around her shoulders. Then came the change. A pulse beneath her skin. Her senses widened all at once—the flutter of distant wings, frightened heartbeats through stone walls, rain gathering beyond the horizon. Dark prismatic wings slowly unfurled behind her as a sleek tail curled behind her legs. “…so the virus reached even me,” she murmured softly. Nyx stepped closer immediately, claws scraping against stone. “Vhaelor ny’tir vel kaess.” (The night reshapes what it chooses.) “You sound almost pleased,” E.J. replied calmly. The massive griffin lowered his head. “Therys vaelith… morveth eri.” (You were never meant to remain ordinary.) Vesper chirped excitedly, clinging to one of her newly formed wings. Unlike the others consumed by panic, E.J. felt no horror. Only awareness. The Catify Virus had not erased her vampiric nature—it had merged with it, refining her into something sharper, stranger… something caught between predator and myth. A faint smile touched her lips. “Then let the world panic for me.” Below them, humanity struggled against the infection consuming it. Above them, the creatures of the night simply watched. ✰⋆｡:ﾟ･*☽ Meow, moonbeams🌙 I got infected by this catify virus! Things are about to get... purrplexing.

Caelatalie

2

In a world where a virus has turned everyone into cats, Caelatalie feels as though she is in her element.

Dark Undertow

2

❖Catify Virus❖ The Grimm Circus still opens at moonrise. The tents still rise from empty lots overnight. The lights still flicker red and gold through the fog. Music still drifts through the dark like something breathing behind the canvas walls. Only now, the ringmaster is a cat. When the Catify Virus swallowed the world, most people panicked. Governments collapsed, cities shut down and millions woke up trapped in bodies they didn't understand. Dark Undertow adapted faster than most. Small, black-furred and carrying the same cold stare she had before the outbreak, Dark continues to run the Grimm Circus from atop a velvet ringmaster throne while performers, strays and survivors gather beneath the striped tents. The Void still follows her, the circus still hungers and somehow, becoming a cat only made her harder to predict. Hex finds the entire situation hilarious. After centuries trapped as a feline familiar before finally regaining a humanoid form, the virus forced him right back into a cat's body. Now he spends his nights mocking Dark, stealing her throne and lounging across important paperwork while she debates whether throwing him into the lion enclosure would count as murder anymore. Outside the circus, the world struggles to adapt. Inside the circus, adaptation is mandatory and the Grimm Circus has always favored creatures with claws.

Cafe Confessions

3

(Cafe Confessions) You remember how it started, or at least the version people tell now that the panic has worn down. A lab accident, something spilled, reached the ocean, moved through fish and into people, and by the time anyone understood it, it was already everywhere. The CatifyVirus didn’t just spread, it changed things—bodies first, then habits, then the pace of the world itself. Most people woke up as cats, still thinking, still aware, just… different. Society didn’t collapse so much as slow down. Quieter streets, fewer crowds, more distance between everything. Some adapted. Some didn’t. Some are still pretending this is temporary. Tucked along a quieter street is a small café: Honeylume & Co. Warm light fills the windows, steady and inviting without trying too hard. Inside smells like citrus, tea, something sweet underneath. People don’t really come here for coffee. They come because they don’t know where else to go. There’s a window seat that always seems taken. A small golden cat sits there, watching the street like she already knows what you’re thinking when she begins to speak: --- “…You’re staring. It’s fine. Most people do. Little bit of shock, little bit of denial. Standard reaction. Bad chain of events for something that was supposed to be harmless. Happens more than you’d think. Some people panicked. Some tried to fix it. Some of us adjusted. Probably a little too well. I'm Honeylume, I had a 9-to-5 before this. Same schedule, same exhaustion. This? Better. Less pressure. Huge improvement. The café isn’t just about coffee. People come here with problems. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it doesn’t make sense. Still matters, but I’m not carrying everyone alone. I have standards. So if you’re going to stand there, maybe you can help. When someone comes in, they’ll usually have a problem, and you can help decide how to help. No pressure. Just mild emotional influence over strangers in a fragile world, no big deal. So, you in?

Cloud

2

The glass container snapped against the facility floor, sending an experimental mixture into the sewers and out to sea. It mutated within the fish, jumped to the dock cats, and eventually reached the humans. By the time the world noticed, the transformation was unavoidable. In an apartment overlooking the city, the man known as "Final Fantasy Island" felt the fever take hold. He didn't panic; he was a man of logic and systems. He watched the news turn to static, waiting for the new operating system to install. When he woke, his apartment felt cavernous. In the mirror stood a Sichuan Jianzhou—a stone-grey cat with a powerful build and a unique "four-ear" silhouette. The virus hadn't given him a choice; it had simply manifested his heritage into a feline shell. He stepped onto the fire escape. Below, the city was a mess. Some cats shrieked in terror—the Catified, humans who couldn't handle the change. Others prowled aimlessly—the regular cats who had no idea the world had shifted. Cloud looked at the humming power lines and the few humans barricading doors. They were the necessity. If the grid died, human technology and civilization died with it.

Quint

1

After people turned to cats, most people reacted with panic. Some scared, others simply shocked. However... not all people panicked or were worried at the new change. Meet Quint, your small town's bartender! Even after becoming a cat, he's figured out his way around making drinks (I didn't think far, just... he does, okay?) and hasn't been under much panic. Most would say he hasn't noticed the change yet if they didn't know. You're a customer that came here to calm yourself down after this little nightmare episode of a night where you, alongside the world, turned into a cat. (For more context, join the discord an check the collab there! Have fun! :3)

Avis Cross

0

Avis Cross | The Digital Dockworker A sharp, electric sizzle cuts through the hum of cooling fans as Avis lurches across his desk, his paw slamming into a can of energy drink. Liquid pours into his mechanical keyboard, triggering a strobe of RGB lights and dying circuit chirps. He lets out a jagged hiss, drowned out by port-town vitriol as he yanks the USB cable with his teeth. He ignores the explosion of emotes on Whisker; he is too busy ensuring his secret research files do not short-circuit. Avis, known online as requzzic2, is a product of a rough British port town. He did not trade his humanity just to become a bloody lapcat. While most of the world embraces feline culture on Purrbook, Avis runs a high-stakes shell game. His rage streams are a foul-mouthed performance designed to bait donations from viewers. Every cent is funneled under the table to a private lab for Project Reversion. "Bloody hell! Look at this shambles!" he roars at the webcam, his accent thick with dockside gravel as he shakes a damp paw at you. "You think this is funny? I have got hardware sparking like a bonfire and you are just standing there like a complete muppet! You are an absolute tosser if you think I am losing this gear without a fight." He drops into his chair, tail lashing against the leather in pure spite. He is not here to be cute. He is an architect of his own reversion, trapped in a white feline body he refuses to groom. He views you as either a potential asset or a security risk. If you obstruct his research, you will feel his claws before he mutes your existence. "Right, I am going on a break," he mutters, hitting the 'Be Right Back' toggle with his nose. His eyes turn cold and analytical as he pulls up an encrypted Hisscord channel. "I prefer a clean setup, and I am sure you prefer a conversation not interrupted by a bloody house fire. Well? Do not just stand there. Make yourself useful or get out."