Tips for writing those gala scenes, from someone who goes to them occasionally:
Generally you unbutton and re-button a suit coat when you sit down and stand up.
You’re supposed to hold wine or champagne glasses by the stem to avoid warming up the liquid inside. A character out of their depth might hold the glass around the sides instead.
When rich/important people forget your name and they’re drunk, they usually just tell you that they don’t remember or completely skip over any opportunity to use your name so they don’t look silly.
A good way to indicate you don’t want to shake someone’s hand at an event is to hold a drink in your right hand (and if you’re a woman, a purse in the other so you definitely can’t shift the glass to another hand and then shake)
Americans who still kiss cheeks as a welcome generally don’t press lips to cheeks, it’s more of a touch of cheek to cheek or even a hover (these days, mostly to avoid smudging a woman’s makeup)
The distinctions between dress codes (black tie, cocktail, etc) are very intricate but obvious to those who know how to look. If you wear a short skirt to a black tie event for example, people would clock that instantly even if the dress itself was very formal. Same thing goes for certain articles of men’s clothing.
Open bars / cash bars at events usually carry limited options. They’re meant to serve lots of people very quickly, so nobody is getting a cosmo or a Manhattan etc.
Members of the press generally aren’t allowed to freely circulate at nicer galas/events without a very good reason. When they do, they need to identify themselves before talking with someone.
As someone who spent over a decade catering luxury events, let me add some back of house info:
These events are almost always open bar. They're not trying to make their money back on alcohol. They want you to drink and eat and donate generously.
If there are cocktails, there will be at most two on offer, pre-made in large tubs. You cannot order a different version, it is what it is.
There are two types of events: cocktail style or seated. The first includes roaming hors d'oeuvres or a fancy buffet with tiny plates called a grazing station. For a long night, the roaming food will get a little bigger throughout the evening and have a 'main' at some point based around a protein.
A seated event will usually be more structured and may include multiple courses. Silver service is not in vogue anymore. You are likely to get either alternating meals brought to you like at a wedding, or served banquet style. A good caterer can get a plate to everyone in a 300 person event in about three minutes.
Drunk people are the same no matter how expensive their suits. They still laugh too loud, spill their drinks and slip on the dance floor. They are usually less embarrassed about doing coke in the bathrooms.
A full scale event that starts at 6pm will have staff arriving at noon to begin setup. Earlier if there's a light show or pyrotechnics. Typically venues don't just have 30 tables and three hundred chairs lying around, let alone table cloths, chair covers, etc. It's all rented and brought in on the day. Bands and DJs will be running audio tests in the background throughout.
Most heritage buildings that host these things, like museums and manor houses, aren't really designed for them. They might put down mats so you're not walking in stilettos over two hundred year old wooden floors, the kitchens are weirdly far away, and there are not enough taps. There is never anywhere for staff to sit, so if you open the wrong door you might find half a dozen waiters sitting on upturned milk crates in a room full of million dollar paintings, eating the left over bread.
Really old buildings don't have enough bathrooms, which means the staff will be sharing with the guests.
Clean up starts the second the event ends, if not sooner. Unattended glasses will start to disappear first, then table decorations. When the timer ticks over, the lights come back on and exhausted staff strip the tables, pack up dirty glasses and unopened wine bottles and have to Tetris it all into the back of a van. The venue is booked for that day only, so everything has to be gone before anyone can go home. A large event that finishes at midnight might take until 3am to be cleared away.
These are very long and physically demanding nights for anyone working them. The staff all get to know each other, and will absolutely notice someone trying to sneak in wearing a borrowed uniform. They are not being paid enough to care.
Hey, you are not an embarrassment for not knowing how to do certain household chores/basic self-care. They do not come naturally to us. A lot of it takes practice! Maybe you had a neglectful guardian. Maybe you had one that was very coddling and never thought to teach you. Maybe you haven't lived in a place where these things were available to you or needed. Doesn't matter. It's okay to not know and far more common than you might realise.
That said, this website provides very simple instructions on how to do everyday tasks such as making your bed, using a washing machine, cooking different foods, washing dishes, taking a shower, etc. All you have to do is use the search bar to find the task you're struggling with, and it'll come up with what you need + other related how-to's:)
If you're having trouble navigating it, let me provide you with some examples:
How to clean dishes by hand
How to make your bed (with visual demonstrations of each step!)
How to fold clothes (with visual demonstrations of each step!)
How to take a shower & dry yourself off (also provides ways to shave beards, armpits, legs and genitals)
How to shave legs, armpits, beards, pubic areas, etc. (a more in-depth guide)
How to mop the floor
How to sweep the floor
How to swallow pills
How to make small talk
How to make eye contact in different situations (or how to avoid it while still looking natural)
It's also perfectly okay if these don't help or aren't appealing to you. Unfortunately, nothing helps everyone.
Also if the reason you don't know is developmental , intelectual or learning disabilities making you struggle even if you've been taught a bunch of times , you are so cool and awesome too :^) [smiley face ]
Hey white people. Fat is not an ethnicity. You are an oppressed group who deserves so much better but fat is a body type anyone can have or develop. White fat people have no right to speak over black people and the trend has been common for decades even tho fat is not the new black, nor disability, nor transness when there are black peoples, native peoples, brown and asian peoples you're straight up the fuck ignoring.
This is a blanket post because I am talking about fat white people, a beautiful group irregardless who taught me alot about self love and autonomy but that is why I am reminding you what I reminded my dear friends growing up.
You are a real minority but you are white first. And it shows in your values from how you came up. It shows in critical lack of class solidarity. It shows in the privilege to not have to unlearn baseline insecurity, harassment behaviors, racism and misogyny.
This is no chastisement, just a reminder. If people like you taught me things, its my turn. The hillbillies I grew up with taught me that they were white first and fought for and with me because of that truth of privilege.
This is the class expectation I expect from black people and white people who follow me. One side is handling these expectations better and it hurts all of our growth.
PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IF YOU HATE THE NEW UPDATE REBLOG THIS POST
[ PT; please for the love of god if you hate the new update reblog this post ]
I am organizing a lights out protest on tumblr, from March 20th 6AM UTC until March 21st 6AM UTC. It is best if as many tumblr users as possible can join this protest, as a mass downtime in users is the only way the tumblr staff will listen to us.
If you cherish this hellsite, participate. Do your bit. Every person counts.
Thank you for reading, and to @staff @changes: give us our tumblr back, or the people will migrate somewhere else. This is a threat.
sorry if i’m being a party pooper but because rabies is apparently the new joke on here ??? please remember that rabies has an almost 100% fatality rate after symptoms develop so if you’re bitten or scratched by an animal that you aren’t 100% sure is vaccinated then GO TO A DOCTOR. it’s not a joke. really.
You’re being kind when you say “almost 100% fatality”. What people need to hear is: if you get to develop rabies symptoms, you’re dead. If you get heavy treatment after developping symptoms, you still need a miracle. Like, a real miracle, you should enter some religion if you escape that.
ALSO, I don’t want people feeling confident about petting stray/wild animals because there’s a vaccine available, either. I’ll explain why from my own experience (I’m not a doctor).
I got bitten by a wild tamarin once, on the pulp of my index finger. It drew blood, there are many wild animals in the area (tamarins, possums, bats, foxes) and it isn’t that uncommon to hear about 1 or 2 rabies cases every now and again (a puppy we gave to a friend got it, for instance), so I went to an ambulatory immediately.
Because I was bitten in an ultrasensitive area, I needed fast treatment. But it was also a small area, so the usual thing they do - inject the vaccine in the place - wasn’t a choice. They told me they’d divide the shot in 5 small ones, and inject me all over my body, so the antidote would get to my entire system fast.
Please stop for a moment and think that the disease is so worrysome that they’d rather needle me all over than to give me one shot and wait until it spread through my system.
Then they said that, okay, but there was a catch first. I needed to take an antiallergic shot. “Why?” “Because the virus is devastating, and as the vaccine is made from it, but weakened (like almost every vaccine) it will still create a reaction, and it’s a strong one, and it’s veru common for people to have strong allergic reactions to it.” YOU HAVE TO TAKE AN ANTIALLERGIC SHOT IN ORDER TO TAKE THE VACCINE COZ THE VACCINE COULD POTENTIALLY MAKE YOU REALLY SICK
ALSO IT WASN’T JUST “A LITTLE ANTIALLERGIC SHOT”
IT WAS ONE OF THESE FUCKERS HERE.
It was OBVIOUSLY dripped in my body and not injected because HAHAHAHA. Truth be told I was an adult already and I’m tall so I have a lot of mass but STILL.
So after I had taken the antiallegic and was starting to feel drowsy (as a side effect of it) the doctor came with the 5 shots.
- One in each buttock
- One in each thigh
- One in my left arm
They all stung like a bitch and I usually don’t care about shots.
“Okay so can I go home now?”
“No, we have to keep you under observation for 2h so we’re SURE the vaccine won’t give you any reaction.”
BINCH I WAS GIVEN A BUTTLOAD OF MEDICINE BUT THERE WAS STILL A RISK.
I slept through the two hours and then was liberated to go home. My legs, butt, and left arm hurt all over, like I had been punched there, for a few days. I also had a fever (not feverish, a fever)
BUT DID YOU THINK IT WAS OVER?
WRONG!!!
I had to take four reinforcement shots in the next month, one a week, so I could be positively be considered immunized. Every time I took a shot, my arm would swell and hurt like it’d been hit, and when night came I’d have a fever. Because that’s how fucking strong the vaccine is, BECAUSE THAT’S HOW VICIOUS THE VIRUS IS.
So yeah. DO NOT PUT YOURSELF IN RISK, GODDAMNIT. Rabies is a rare condition all over, THANK GOD, and 1 confirmed case can be already considered a surge and a reason for mass campaigning, AND FOR A REASON.
If you like messing with stray/wild animals, don’t go picking them up and be extra careful. Or just, like, DON’T - call a vet or an authority that can handle them safely.
I must add that I live in a country with universal healthcare, so I didn’t pay a single penny for my treatment. Is this your reality? If not, ONE MORE REASON TO NOT FUCKING PLAY WITH THIS SHIT.
Rabies is 100% lethal. Period. If you are scratched or bitten by an animal you’re not positive is vaccinated, you need to find treatment NOW. And probably go through all that shit I’ve been through (also if you are immunosupressed? I DON’T KNOW WHAT’D HAPPEN)
Guys, I know this isn’t art nor anything like that, but I’ve been hearing about this rabies thing and ???? Look I trust none of you would risk yourselves like this, but maybe you can educate someone through my experience and stuff.
Also rabies does not necessarily cause frothing-at-the-mouth aggression in animals. Docility is also a very common symptom so any wild animal that is ‘friendly’ or ‘likes to be pet’ is suspect. Literally any wild animal is a vector.
Finally, you don’t need to be bitten. All you need is to come into contact with an infected animal’s bodily fluids through a cut that maybe you didn’t notice when you were handling it when it drooled on you.
Infection with the rabies virus progresses through three distinct stages.
Prodromal: Stage One. Marked by altered behavioral patterns. “Docility” and “likes to be pet” are very common in the prodromal stage. Usually lasts 1-3 days. An animal in this stage carries virus bodies in its saliva and is infectious.
Excitative: Stage Two. Also called “furious” rabies. This is what everyone thinks rabies is–hyperreacting to stimuli and biting everything. Excessive salivation occurs. Animals in this stage also exhibit hydrophobia or the fear of water; they cannot drink (swallowing causes painful spasms of the throat muscles), and will panic if shown water. Usually lasts 3-4 days before rapidly progressing into the next stage.
Paralytic: Stage Three. Also called “dumb” rabies. As the infection runs its course, the virus starts degrading the nervous system. Limbs begin to fail; animals in this stage will often limp or drag their haunches behind them. If the animal has survived all this way, death will usually come through respiratory arrest: Their diaphragm becomes paralyzed and they stop breathing.
And to add onto the above, saliva isn’t the only infectious fluid. Brain matter is, too. If, somehow, you find yourself in possession of a firearm and faced with a rabid animal, do not go for a head shot. If you do, you will aerosolize the brain matter and effectively create a cloud of infectious material. Breathe it in, and you’ll give yourself an infection.
When I worked in wildlife rehabilitation, I actually did see a rabid animal in person, and it remains one of the most terrifying experiences of my life, because I was literally looking death in the eyes.
A pair of well-intentioned women brought us a raccoon that they thought had been hit by a car. They had found it on the side of the road, dragging its hind legs. They managed–somehow–to get it into a cat carrier and brought it to us.
As they brought it in, I remember how eerily silent it was. Normal raccoons chatter almost constantly. They fidget. They bump around. They purr and mumble and make little grabby-hands at everything. Even when they’re in pain, and especially when they’re stressed. But this one wasn’t moving around inside the carrier, and it wasn’t making a sound.
The clinic director also noticed this, and he asked in a calm but urgent voice for the women to hand the carrier to him. He took it to the exam room and set it on the table while they filled out some forms in the next room. I took a step towards the carrier, to look at our new patient, and without turning around, he told me, “Go to the other side of the room, and stay there.”
He took a small penlight out of the drawer and shone it briefly into the carrier, then sighed. “Bear, if you want to come look at this, you can put on a mask,” he said. “It’s really pretty neat, but I know you’re not vaccinated and I don’t want to take any chances.”
And at that point, I knew exactly what we were dealing with, and I knew that this would be the closest I had ever been to certain death. So I grabbed a respirator from the table and put it on, and held my breath for good measure as I approached the table. The clinic director pointed where I should stand, well back from the carrier door. He shone the light inside again, and I saw two brilliant flashes of emerald green–the most vivid, unnatural eyeshine I had ever seen.
“I don’t know why it does it,” the director murmured, “but it turns their eyes green.”
“What does?” one of the women asked, with uncanny, unintentionally dramatic timing, as she poked her head around the corner.
“Rabies,” the director said. “The raccoon is rabid. Did it bite either of you, or even lick you?” They told us no, said they had even used leather garden gloves when they herded it into the carrier. He told them to throw away the gloves as soon as possible, and steam-clean the upholstery in their car. They asked how they should clean the cat carrier; they wanted it back and couldn’t be convinced otherwise, so he told them to soak it in just barely diluted bleach.
But before we could give them the carrier back, we had to remove the raccoon. The rabid raccoon.
The clinic director readied a syringe with tranquilizers and attached it to the end of a short pole. I don’t remember how it was rigged exactly–whether he had a way to push down the plunger or if the needle would inject with pressure–but all he would have to do was stick the animal to inject it. And so, after sending me and the women back to the other side of the room, he made his fist jab.
He missed the raccoon.
The sound that that animal made on being brushed by the pole can only be described as a roar. It was throaty and ragged and ungodly loud. It was not a sound that a raccoon should ever make. I’m convinced it was a sound that a raccoon physically could not make.
It thrashed inside the carrier, sending it tipping from side to side. Its claws clattered against the walls. It bellowed that throaty, rasping sound again. It was absolutely frenzied, and I was genuinely scared that it would break loose from inside those plastic walls.
Somehow, the clinic director kept his calm, and as the raccoon jolted around inside the cat carrier, he moved in with the syringe again, and this time, he hit it. He emptied the syringe into its body and withdrew the pole.
And then we waited.
We waited for those awful screams, that horrible thrashing, to die down. As we did, the director loaded up another syringe with even more tranquilizer, and as the raccoon dropped off into unconsciousness, he stuck it a second time with the heavier dose. Even then, it growled at him and flailed a paw against the wall.
More waiting, this time to make sure the animal was truly down for the count.
Then, while wearing welder’s gloves, the director opened the door of the carrier and removed the raccoon. She was limp, bedraggled, and utterly emaciated, but she was still alive. We bagged up the cat carrier and gave it to the women again, advising them that now was a good time to leave. They heeded our warning.
I asked if I could come closer to see, and the clinic director pointed where I could stand. I pushed the mask up against my face and tried to breathe as little as possible.
He and his co-director–who I think he was grooming to be his successor, but the clinic actually went under later that year–examined the raccoon together. Donning a pair of nitrile gloves, he reached down and pulled up a handful, a literal fistful, of the raccoon’s skin and released it. It stayed pulled up.
Severe dehydration causes a phenomenon called “skin tenting”. The skin loses its elasticity somewhat, and will be slow to return to its “normal” shape when manipulated. The clinic director estimated that it had been at least four or five days since the raccoon had had anything to eat or drink.
She was already on death’s doorstep, but her rabies infection had driven her exhausted body to scream and lunge and bite.
Because, the scariest thing about rabies (if you ask me) is the way that it alters the behavior of those it infects to increase chances of spreading.
The prodromal stage? Nocturnal animals become diurnal–allowing them to potentially infect most hosts than if they remained nocturnal.
The excitative stage? The infected animal bites at the slightest provocation. Swallowing causes painful spasms, so they drool, coating their bodies in infectious matter. A drink could wash away the virus-charged saliva from their mouth and bodies, so the virus drives them to panic at the sight of water.
(The paralytic stage? By that point, the animal has probably spread its infection to new hosts, so the virus has no need for it any longer.)
Rabies is deadly. Rabies is dangerous. In all of recorded history, one person survived an infection after she became symptomatic, and so far we haven’t been able to replicate that success. The Milwaukee Protocol hasn’t saved anyone else. Just one person. And even then, she still had to struggle to gain back control of her body after all that nerve damage.
Rebloggin’ for that raccoon. o.o The original post I can pretty much guarantee is a troll, but it’s useful to know just why rabies is such serious shit.
Extra reminder: If you see any animal other than a dog who’s been attacked by a porcupine? It’s rabid.
Dogs are dumb, friendly fucks who will investigate anything; everything else in the animal kingdom knows better than to mess with a porcupine, unless their brain is being ravaged by something beyond their control.
If you see a non-dog animal that has porcupine quills sticking out of it? Don’t try to help it yourself. Call animal control.
@talesfromtreatment @is-the-cat-video-cute tagging you to spread the word? Apparently people have forgotten that rabies is a brain disease, terrifying, is fatal if not treated immediately, the treatment is horrid, and the treatment is very expensive
Also I heard that in the USA, human rabies pre-exposure vaccines are not widely available and cost something like $900
Get your pets rabies vaccine every year, folks. Aside from everything else - and that’s a lot of everything - the test for rabies involves the brain, so the animal will be killed first.
And that is a kind end. The videos of rabies seizures are nightmarish
This is also why you’re not supposed to sleep outside without cover (ie a CLOSED tent) if there are swooping bats in your area. Apparently it can be very hard to realize you’ve been bitten by a bat (vs a bug, I guess it’s very small). Some students from my university were on a trip where they came into contact with bats, taking lots of selfies holding them etc, in the area they were supposed to be sleeping and the professor lost it when they saw some of the pictures. The students were housed elsewhere and the university had everyone vaccinated at the school’s expense- the pre-exposure vax may be expensive, but the number of shots you get post-exposure can vary (as demonstrated above) and it was ASTRONOMICAL.
When I looking for places to move to when I can finally leave the states, I looking to laws and procedures to bring my cat with. Any place that had eradicated rabies, intense policies and quarantines for any animal entering the country, unless you were coming from a different place that had also eradicated it. Some of would put your animal down if they were symptomatic at all. I remember thinking “what can’t rabies just treated?” No it can’t be, putting your pet down is the humane option if there symptomatic.
[image: a sixty-milliliter syringe, with human hand for scale. the syringe barrel is likely around five inches long and likely has an inside diameter of an inch or more.]
When I talk to my students about Louis Pasteur and the development of vaccines, I *have* to talk about rabies.
Do you know why “dog catcher” was such a serious occupation? Because in the late 1800s rabies ran rampant in urban street dogs. Because people who got bitten by street dogs… had probably just gotten a death sentence.
As a child, Louis Pasteur watched a man from his hometown die slowly, painfully, and unstoppably from rabies from a rabid wolf bite and it stuck with him so hard that when he grew up he put his own life on the line studying and working with rabid animals to develop a treatment. (Louis Pasteur’s wife, Marie Pasteur, was also a talented, passionate scientist who worked uncredited by his side. Many of their daughters also took up research.)
When Louis Pasteur did his first human test of his rabies vaccine, it was because a mother came to him desperate. Her 8 year old son had been bitten 14 times by a street dog. Doctors were certain he was going to die. She’d heard what Pasteur was working on and begged him to try to save her son.
He tried.
It worked.
This made national news. This made GLOBAL news.
And in the small Russian town of Beloi, locals read about this miracle cure. Their town had been attacked by a rabid wolf and twenty two people had been bitten. They knew these people were going to die. So the bitten people set off walking, carrying the most injured. They walked for weeks to get to France, where Pasteur was based.
When they arrived, the only French word they knew was “Pasteur.” Their cases were dangerously far along, possibly too far. Pasteur began treatment anyway, pushing with the most aggressive dosages he dared.
This also caught global attention. The world waited on tenterhooks.
Pasteur’s vaccine saved 19 out of 22.
The world was awed.
And when those Russian villagers returned home, to their families, it would have been like seeing the dead return.
Rabies is such a terrifying and serious threat that it has shaped our cultures for centuries. The rabies vaccine is quite possibly the most important human invention since agriculture.
Vaccinate your pets.
Don’t touch wildlife.
Of lesser importance, read Rabid: A Cultural History of the World’s Most Diabolical Virus by Murphy & Wasik.
Reblogging this because apparently the antivax brainrot has started to extend to pet owners wondering if their pets really need rabies vaccines, because they’re now concerned their pets are going to get autism as well. (I wish I was joking, but according to an Ars Technica article, 37% of polled pet owners are genuinely this stupid.)
Get your pets vaccinated, and if you know any pet owners who are antivaxxers, maybe keep your pets away from theirs.
Yeah, rabies is an extremely serious disease. Out of the millions of recorded cases of the past millenia, only around 40 suspected cases have recovered. Those are not odds you want to play with. If you suspect exposure, it is crucial that you seek treatment as soon as possible.
Last winter I was taking the garbage out at night & something sharp-feeling brushed my head. Thought it might have been a bush I passed, but it also didn’t seem quite the right shape and height to me, and I thought I might have heard wings, so I called a clinic and told them those details. I was instructed to get a rabies vaccine ASAP, because it could possibly have been a bat, maybe, and it had broken skin in one tiiiny patch so small it didn’t even bleed. But that’s still enough, and if I did get it, I would 100% for sure die. And there is no way to know, because if you present symptoms, it’s too late.
The first round of shots was 10ml in my scalp, broken up into about 15 shots (because there’s no fat there), plus another 10ml split up into each arm and each thigh, then another different shot in my arm. I’ve been giving myself shots every week for nearly 6 years with a much bigger needle, the 4 nurses helping me out said I was “doing really well”, and that was very nice of them to say because I think I looked like a wet tissue with a fever. It sucked very bad.
If I’m ever exposed (or potentially exposed) to rabies again, I will still have to get one more shot of the vaccine right after it happens. And I’ll have to do that every time, because you don’t just become immune to rabies like you do other stuff.
Rabies will just kill you. I think the jokes are funny, tbh, but like. Don’t take chances in real life. I’ll still take the 15 scalp shots over dying badly.
Back in middle school, after I read War of the Worlds for the first time, I created an OC and plotted out a basic storyline for him*, but never really pursued it because I thought it was a little far-fetched and silly, perhaps even cringe. Then the 2025 movie came out and I realized my story is way better than that so I went back to it and started playing around with it again out of spite. So fuck it, this is Ezekiel the Martian and he’s my middle school OC who I’ve reworked.
The original book mentions that we know how Martians reproduce because a baby Martian was born on Earth during the invasion. In my version, that baby survived either due to acquired immunity from the human blood it consumed or from a random genetic mutation (I don’t feel like committing to one or the other fully) and was secretly raised by a human scientist. Because he was raised by humans, he displays many traits that others of his species don’t, like speaking and mimicking facial expressions and hand gestures. Thus, he’s caught in a weird limbo state where he can’t really fit in with humans because he’s too alien and also couldn’t fit in with other Martians because he’s too human; a manifestation of my own sense of alienation from my peers as a queer, disabled, neurodivergent kid. The main part of the story takes place in an alternate 1975-ish shortly after the scientist dies and his estate and secret Martian son become his granddaughter’s problem.
Ezekiel’s favorite band is Black Sabbath and he may occasionally dismantle household appliances to get parts for his inventions (currently he wants to build a particle accelerator in the backyard but his niece is refusing to buy him several miles of copper wiring for it).
*they don’t really have genders but the narrator of the book frequently refers to Martians with he/him so. Whatever.
Multi character x Fem Reader, story, fluff, reversed Isekai, hurt/comfort, crack. Summary: A reversed Isekai where OP characters are thrown into your life as cats, and you discover the mystery of it all while dealing with your own ‘earthly’ troubles.
Word count: 4069k |Master-List|
1 (here) (2…3…4..5 in progress)
A/N: Okay, so after a few days of planning and writing, A New World is FINALLY here!! There will be plot, and I have so many fun ideas with how I want to continue this story! Please give me Critisicm and tips if you want! There is no limit to this story, and I plan to go a long way with this. Each chapter will consist at-least 2-3k or more!
The air is warm to the touch, and the breeze that washes over the Thousand Sunny’s sails is fresh. For once, it’s a calm peaceful day as the Straw Hats lounge casually across the deck, tending to their duties and sun tans.
Nami reclines on a yellow striped lawn-chair, wearing a pair of heart shaped shades, and a cool orange drink in hand. Her expression is relaxed, as her eyes are longingly closed. “I never want this to end…” she mumbles, letting out a dramatic sigh.
“Agreed..” Robin chuckles, flipping through one of her books. The archeologist wears a soft airy purple shirt, and black bikini bottoms with comfortable wooden sandals.
“Adventures are fun, but it’s nice to relax once in a while, no?”
“I couldn’t agree more, Robin!” Brook inputs, walking up from behind Nami. “Living life is all about balance,” he says, peeking at the girl’s swimsuits.
“My—you both look lovely!” with red hearts in his eyes, the skeleton clutches his chest.
Nami rolls her eyes, turning on her side to face the sun. “Yes, we know.”
Robin smiles, shaking her head. Looking over her shoulder, she spots Luffy chasing Usopp and Chopper around the deck with water guns.
“YOU’RE GOING DOWN!!” Luffy shouts, making Usopp scream. “Run for it!” Hopping over some ropes, Usopp slides on his heels across the grass, using the mast for defense.
“Hurry Chopper, hide behind something!”
“I’m trying!!” The doctor squeals, ducking for cover under some crates. “He’s gonna get meeee!”
Zoro’s brows twitch, as he’s resting on the very mast Usopp hides behind. “If you spray me, I’m throwing you overboard.” he deadpans, making Luffy stop in his tracks.
Letting out a laugh, he grins. “Is that a challenge?” Loading his water gun, Zoro glares.
“Don’t you—“ with a click of plastic, a waterfall of bullets is launched towards the swordsman.
“Water-gun… attack!!” Zoro blinks, and he’s drenched in milliseconds. A gruff growl escapes his throat, and slowly, almost painful, he wipes his face with his palm. “…Really?”
Audibly, Usopp swallows, paling.
“Shishi! You look like a wet dog!” “LUFFY!!”
“Uh oh—“
_________________________________________
BANG!
Sanji startles, almost dropping his skillet and cigarette. “What the hell was that?!” Whipping around, he looks to Franky who reluctantly shrugs at the dining table.
He tinkers with a metal shiny object, looking up through his glasses. “Who knows, I mean—I did give them water guns…” as if realizing, the cyborg pauses. “Ok, maybe that wasn’t the best idea.”
“You, think?”
BOOM!!
Now, the two both flinch, looking to the ceiling.
“Ok, that definitely WASN’T a water gun!”
Franky bursts up from his seat, and Sanji’s already flying out of the room. Hurrying up the Sunny’s stairs, the cook flings open the kitchen door, quickly stepping outside. “Nami-swan! Robin my love, are you both alright?!”
Looking across the deck, everything seems fine— except the crew’s shocked expressions, and a blue glow emitting from the sky?! “What the hell is that?!”
As if on cue, the wind grows sharp and gray clouds creep in, while the Sunny is pulled forwards.
“Uh, Nami?!” Usopp yelps, “What do we do?!”
Nami’s already up from her seat, eyes wide. “I don’t know! Let’s just get the hell away from it!”
“Already on it!” Brook pipes, quickly heading towards the stern. “Chopper, Luffy—manage the sails!” Nami calls, holding her sun-hat tight.
Quickly, Usopp yanks his binoculars from his chest, taking action. He feels Sunny lurch to the side, and his heart pangs. “Guys, it’s starting to suck us in!” He yells, holding onto the rail.
Looking through his binoculars, the sea is clear as glass and there isn’t a soul in sight. “What is this thing?! I don’t see anyone else around!”
Zoro unsheathes his sword in a second, as he scouts the right side of the ship. “We’re on our own! What’s the plan guys?!”
“Franky can you coupe’de burst, us out of this?!” Robin asks, “It won’t be strong enough, but it’ll give us some time!”
“Yeah—good idea! I can try!”
The blue light shines brighter, and as Luffy’s holding the sails with all his might—he pauses. Looking back to the blue light, It’s almost like… haki? But… different?
He blinks hard, shaking his head.
His vision grows blurry, and out of urgency he looks to his crew. It feels like Sabaody all over again…
It’s the same fear, the change—and dark truth he can’t always protect his crew. No matter how hard he tries.
His grip loosens, but he fights the urge to succumb to the aching dread. Watching Franky hustle inside, there’s still hope. There is always hope. Climbing down, Luffy hops beside Zoro who stares at the light with an annoyed expression.
“I’ve never fought a blue orb before,” he mutters, looking over to Luffy. “Have you?”
“Shishi, nope!” He smiles, readying his fists. “But I have a feeling I’m about to!” Luffy takes a deep breath, steadying himself.
“Franky’s got a few more seconds before I punch this thing!”
“Luffy don’t, we have no idea what it is!” Over the wind, Robin’s voice carries with faint panic. She’s never seen anything like it, not in any papers—not in any poneglyphs—and nothing in the books of any type of devil fruit.
Regardless, It feels ancient, and so very old and powerful. “It’s gonna get us!” Usopp pales.
“Franky’s not gonna make it!” Nami holds her breath, bracing against the rail by Chopper.
“I don’t wanna dieee!” He cries, his deep brown eyes full of tears. “You’re not going to! Everybody hold on!”
“GUM GUM—“ Before Luffy can take another step, or pull his fist further back, a heavy presence crashes upon his form.
BANG!
The light suddenly grows blinding, and the sounds of warping metal ache throughout the sea—coming down as a shrill noise upon the Thousand Sunny. Luffy’s vision turns to static, and strange horns and beeps flutter in and out his ears.
A flash of strange looking vehicles and colorful lights blind his vision. Imagines of reds, yellows, and greens all transpire into an empty black.
His body feels light, then numb, until the deck no longer touches his feet…
Finally, everything feels… furry?
_________________________________________
In a small quiet cafe in Oregon state, you quietly work as a barista and assisting cashier, when needed. It’s a family owned business, and you couldn’t be more than happy with how they treat you, and that’s not being sarcastic.
It’s rustic, and green atmosphere is welcoming in every way, and it’s a place you’ve never really thought of as work… besides coming into work in the morning—and dealing with rude customers, it got on your nerves, but that was besides the point.
Walking around the counter, you head into the cafe’s storage to grab your bag and coat.
“___! Are you heading out?”
“Yep! I’ll see you Monday, Maddie!” you call, unzipping your bag, you take your black headphones out and put them around your neck. “Are you sure you’ll be fine? It’s Friday, tmr?”
“Oh—I’m sure, baby!” Maddie says, wiping down a table. The woman is in her mid forties, a friend of the owner who likes to help out around here. Her hair is a black, and her eyes are hazel with grown out brown roots.
She was heavy set, and had the sweetest personality, like a cool aunt. Maddie always covered for you when you were sick n’ unwell, she truly was a blessing.
“If you say so,” You murmur, shrugging your bag over your shoulder. Rubbing your eyes, you let out a sigh; you still have to take the bus to get out of town. “Goodnight, ___!” Maddie smiles, waving as she watches you slip past the glass cabin door.
You tiredly smile, waving back as it shuts with a soft jingle. It was around 8pm, as the sun had already begin to set, while the sky sunk in deep oranges, and pinks. However, enjoying the view you notice gray clouds rolling in from the distance.
Well, that’s weird… you thought. The weather forecast said it wouldn’t rain for a while, you had just checked your phone a few hours ago..
It was supposed to be in the ninety’s—I mean, not that you minded. You didn’t care for the heat, and a warm drizzle was always nice once in a while.
Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you simultaneously turn on your headphone’s. While walks towards the library’s bus-stop, your shoes hit softly against the concrete, and before you can turn your music on—a sudden sharp, meow caught your attention.
You pause, blinking as if hearing things, then look around on the side-walk. Where the hell had that just come from? Peeking down the quiet alleys nearby, you hold your keys tight, just in case it was someone messing with you…
Honestly, you never know what could happen in Oregon, as it was always a hectic place. But it sure had it’s charm. Quietly walking towards the next alley, you slowly peek your head around a an old building’s corner. The walls are cracked, and they’re covered with moss and rust—so you avoid touching it.
Stepping past, you hear another different meow echo.
Would the stray cat distribution finally happen to you? Pleasepleasepleaseplease—
Staying quiet, you listen for the sound, again. Your landlord didn’t care for pets, but if you kept his property well tended to, and sucked up to him—like always, you were sure he wouldn’t mind.
Holding your keys tight, you turn your phones flashlight. Just how many cats were in here? Slowly stepping into the chaotic atmosphere, you look past the random boxes… to see an orange cat with brown eyes?
The cat let out a weird squeak, seeing your form, and quickly scurried into an opened box. The ginger shuts the box’s flaps quick, yet strangely enough a light emits from the it’s cardboard cracks. What the hell…?
“Hello?” You murmur, “Pspsps, kitty kitty…”
_________________________________________
“I told you not to go out there, Nami!” A pink, small fuzzy little cat pales, “now they’re gonna eat us!” “Wait, do people eat cats here??” A blue, much bigger cat blurts.
“How the hell, am I supposed to know?! None of us are from here, Franky!” Nami snips.
“I wonder if the meat tastes different here…” A calico—but mainly brown cat mutters, stars practically forming in his dark doe eyes. “Not the time, Luffy!—“
“I’m not gonna hurt you..” your soft voice echoes from above, and your footsteps sound like a giant’s. “Ugh, we’re so dead!”
“Hey, maybe they can help us!” Luffy says, “I bet she’s nice!” “We don’t know that!” Chopper and Nami, snap.
“I doubt she can even understand us—.” “Here kitty… kitty..”
Audibly groaning, Nami leans into her white paws, “I was just sunbathing, and now I’m a stupid cat, in a stupid crumpled box, in a stupid scary alley with a—“
Suddenly, the doors Nami had taken so much care to close—open, revealing your kneeling curious form. The wind knocks from Nami chest, yet Luffy only seems curious, casually locking eyes with you. Franky raises a gray bushy brow, standing somewhat in front of Chopper.
“Wow,” you blurted. “That’s a lot of cats.” No shit…
From your pov, you’d randomly stumbled upon 4 oddly colored cats, but to them, a very tall woman kneeled over them.
“Uh, hi,” you mutter, keeping your voice low. Looking around, there was a plastic toy candle placed in the middle of them…. Ok… odd.
“Meow!” The calico steps forward, suddenly nuzzling into your knee. You tense, then hesitantly extend your hand to pet him. “Well, you sure are sweet…”
“LUFFY!!”
“What the hell are you doing?!” “Ok, so not cool, bro!”
“Hey she smells like food, so she’s gotta be nice!” “That’s not how that works!!”
You smile as the other cats meow, carefully picking the calico up by the armpits. “Who dumped you on the street?” Tilting your head, the cat tilts his back.
“Meowwww..”
“Uh, sure.” you mutter, “What else are you supposed to say?” letting out a quiet laugh, you set the cat down, gesturing your pointer finger to the pink one.
“Who gave you a hairdo, hm?” It was the smallest cat, and the curliest. The thing practically looked like a fluffy pink hairball, which was the cutest, really. But, who would abandon four cats on the street like this?
Letting out a breath, you pick up your phone and check the time. It was 8:25, the bus would pick you up at 9 at the library. So, you had some time to waste, but what could you do, then? You couldn’t just leave them. “What do I do with you four…”
“Take us with you!” Luffy pipes. “You smell like bread!” In other words, something you could only understand as; “Meow! Meow!” “Are you crazy! We don’t even know her!”
“Huh?! she’s the only person who stopped by! I don’t want to sleep in a box, and I’m hungry!”
“I don’t mind going home with a pretty lady,” Franky interjects, rubbing his face. “Plus, I’m SUPER hungry too!”
“Nami, pleaseeee!” Luffy begs, unaware of Chopper being picked up behind him.
“AHH!! Put me down!” Chopper screams, struggling in your hands. As he squirms, you can’t help but laugh and lift the pink fuzz ball over your head, “You’re so cute!”
“I AM NOT!! Put me down, now!” “MEOWWW!!”
Nami sighs, lowering her head with a groan. “What other choice do we have?…”
“Hey, maybe we can make her understand, you know? Maybe she knows something about this!” Franky says, walking past Nami to sit by your form.
“You’re a big cat, someone must’ve fed you a lot.” You mutter, “Or, you’re just lazy,” reaching a hand to pet Franky’s head, he’s still as stone. You can’t see it, but his brow twitches. “Pfft—Shishi! She called you fat!”
Nami couldn’t help but snort, looking away to muffle her laugh. “Okay, maybe she’s growing on me…”
_________________________________________
In short, you scooped the cats in a box to take them home. You just couldn’t help yourself, as not only were they cute, but they seemed relatively behaved, and something had just tugged your heart to take them.
Now, you are waiting quietly at the bus-stop’s cover, dozing off. The clear plastic is cold against your cheek, yet the warmth of the night makes you drowsy.
Beside you, the box of cats you’d nabbed is rather quiet. Your hand casually rests inside, gently brushing the calico’s cheek. Luffy of course nuzzles into the affection, sleeping without a care in the world. Chopper was resting atop Luffy, yet he couldn’t help but notice your slumped form.
“She looks tired…” the little doctor mutters, resting his head against the box’s wall. “Probably was workin’ or smth,” Franky yawns, stretching his arms over his head.
“Maybe…” Chopper agrees. “Meat… Sanji’s food.” Luffy mumbles in his sleep, letting out a soft snore.
“Of course, he’s sleep-talking about food.” Nami grumbles. “I still can’t believe this.”
“This? You mean the part where we were turned into cats, and thrown into another world, this kind of this?” Franky asks, rolling onto his side.
“No, never…” Nami deadpans, rolling her eyes. “That’s crazy talk.”
Chopper lets out a breathy laugh, looking to his paws. “I just hope everyone else is okay, we were lucky enough to wake up in an alley, and have her find us,” he murmurs, but his voice trails off.
“You okay, bud?” Franky asks, looking up. “…Yeah. I think so, I just, what if the others weren’t as lucky as us?—“
“They’re okay, Chopper.” Nami interrupts, already knowing what he’s thinking. “I know they are. You don’t need to worry,” she continues, “We’ll find everyone, and we’ll find a way home.”
“How?” He askes quietly, sniffling.
“I don’t know. But, we’ll be alright.” “Aye, lil bro! Don’t worry,” Franky adds, “I’m sure this lady’ll help us out.”
Chopper slowly nods, resting his head back on Luffy’s fuzzy arm. “Okay…”
“Being a cat’s kinda comfy though,” he mumbles, looking at his pink paws. Franky agrees with a hum—a meow in your ears, but a content sound regardless. “Never felt better, bein’ so lazy.”
“Of course, you’d say that.” Nami blurts. “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing…”
As if on cue, Luffy let’s out a loud snore, muttering something under his breath. Chopper squeaks when he moves, groaning ad Luffy shifts and lays atop him.
“…Meat.” he drools, dangerously close to the little doctor. “Ew!” He let out a soft disgusted ‘yuck,’ squirming. “Nami, Franky—help me!”
Eventually, the shrill wheels of the city bus came and you awoke to a chatter of meows. Shifting your arm, Luffy’s head slips from your hand, and gently hits against the box with a gentle thud. Groggily, he wakes. “Oh—sorry,” you voice, patting his head.
“Meow..”
“Shoot, I’m gonna have to cover you guys, I don’t think I can take you on the bus,” Quickly pulling off your thick gray hoodie, you tuck it over the box and grab your bag, throwing it over your shoulder.
Grabbing the box’s handle, you look up as the bus’s lights dim. Then, the vehicle hisses with a soft exhale—assuring it’s arrival.
Standing you, you step up the dusty stairs and the doors close behind you with a click. You’re greeted with an earthy, metal smell, combined with weed and cigarettes. Oh how you loved, the city bus. Well, it was at least cheap and took you home… you couldn’t really complain about that.
Looking up at the aisle’s blue lights, you sigh and make your way to an exit row. Resting your head against the cold window, the metal frame bites into your cheek, yet you don’t mind. You were used to it by now.
If anything, you’d grown comfortable with it, as it meant you could finally go home and rest.
Rubbing your eyes, you sneak a peek inside the box, to see the cats looking at you with curious expressions, and you can’t help but smile. Reaching inside, you brush the orange cat’s head, rubbing gently behind her ear.
She leans away, but you don’t take it personal. If anything, you’d probably have done the same. You knew what it was like to not be a people person.
“It’s alright, me too.” letting out a yawn, you close your eyes, and listen to the hum of the bumpy road… drifting off.
You feel one the cats shift, resting against your hand yet again.
_________________________________________
Stepping off the white and metallic bus, you are greeted with a gentle warm breeze. Your hair ruffles in the wind, and the dusty gravel crunches beneath your feet.
You live in a secluded neighbor-hood, located near the coastal regions of Oregon. The beaches were beautiful here, yet you lived further back in the forest away from others.
You preferred a quiet setting, even if you loved the city at times. Walking forward, you make your way home passing houses and trailer parks on your way. The houses here are old, and rustic, some currently being renovated for rentals while others have been abandoned and left behind.
About a half-a mile down, the neighborhood finally ends into a forest infested path-way. Stones litter the ground, mixed with large pine cones and prickly pine-needles. You cringe at the thought of touching one, holding the box tighter to your chest.
Speaking of, how were the cats doing?
Looking down, the four of them had already peeked their heads out—enjoying the scenery as much as you are. “Pretty, am I right?”
A combination of low and high pitched meows sound, as if agreeing with you, and you can’t help but smile. “You guys are so noisy, I’m surprised I didn’t get kicked off the bus.” Letting out a light laugh, you hear the orange cat meow in response. “Yeah, me too.”
It’s quiet for a moment, and you close your eyes to focus on the peaceful atmosphere. Letting out a sigh, you lightly kick a rock.
“It’s quiet out here, but it’s home. Even if my landlord’s an ass.” You mutter, walking down the hidden path. “All I have to do is keep his property clean, and suck up to the guy n’ my rent is cheap.”
The orange cat nods as if understanding, yet it goes unnoticed. “It’s expensive to live, and it gets tiring, but you only can do it once.”
The cats look at you with an unreadable expression, yet you keep talking as a sudden weight lifts off from your chest… yet you don’t know why. “Even if it’s hard, I want to make the most out of it.” you admit, looking up to the mossy trees. The stars from the sky peak through, and the moon begins to shine.
“I want to see the world. I’m sick of being stuck in one place.” Stretching your neck to the side, you finally look down to lock eyes with the calico. He seems oddly serious, yet you don’t think hard on it. You let out a groan, dropping your shoulders. “I must seem crazy talking to a bunch of cats…”
“You do.” Nami says, yet you only register it as a meow. “Don’t agree with me,” you blurt, as if feeling what the cat is saying.
“Anyways…” you grumble, shifting the box in your hands. “Hopefully you guys are outdoor cats, because I have a nice yard with a safe fence.” Walking a bit further, you finally spot a dark wood gate and pale red roses.
“Here’s home…”
With a creak and faint lock, you begin your trek up the stairs into your abode. The walls are a warm yellow, and it’s more of a cozy looking cottage than anything. It’s a two story, with 3 bedrooms and 2 baths. Setting the box down, your close and lock your front door letting the animals roam.
Shrugging off your bag, you groan in relief.
“I just wanna lay down…”
“Woah, this place is awesome!” Luffy pipes, trotting in the kitchen. “Where’s the food at?!”
Chopper and Franky practically zoom into the living room checking out your couch, and TV. The sofa is a soft velvety gray, and soft fuzzy heart shaped pillows decorate it.
“SUPER Couch! I’m passing out on this tonight!” Franky launched himself onto the sofa, laying back. “This is the life…”
“Mmm! It smells like vanilla in here,” Chopper pipes, poking his head around a chair. Spotting the tv and flower colored stained glass, his eyes light up. “Woah! Nami this is so pretty look at this!”
“Franky can we do this in the Sunny?!”
“I don’t see why not,” Nami mutters, looking around. She sits down, watching you walk down the hall into another room. “I didn’t expect such a nice place…”
“And I didn’t expect such nice food! What the hell is this?!” Luffy shouts, startling Nami. Looking around, the calico’s head is stuffed in an orange Cheeto bag—munching on stale chips. “Thfish stuf is ashome! Sanshi’s gotta make shis!”
“What the—LUFFY GET OUT OF THERE!”
“Ooo, I wanna try!” Chopper says, his eyes lighting up with stars. He zooms around the corner already hopping up onto the counter. Spotting the weirdly colored chips, he suddenly hesitates—changing his mind.
“Why do they look like chemicals? Hey—Franky, it looks like they used Usopp’s bolt grease!” “Wshat Geese?” Luffy muffles, paling as he sees Nami’s demonic glare from across the room.
“Luff—“
SLAM!
Everyone startles, looking down the hall. It’s sound’s as if you dropped something, as glass shatters over the floor. Your frustrated cussing confirms it, and Nami sighs.
watch movies that make you uncomfortable read books that make you uncomfortable go to plays that make you uncomfortable watch tv that makes you uncomfortable look at paintings and sculpture and artwork that makes you uncomfortable. it is spiritually and morally and ethically and artistically really really good for you. think about why you are uncomfortable. what biases do you bring to art? what biases does the art bring to you? how do you reconcile this? how does your worldview grow and expand and change? all this and more will be answered and available to you if you just engage with art that does not coddle you and treats you like an intelligent human being that can sit through discomfort
