#like she was with mami. not having to wear that social mask

[magical-xirl-4]

the amount of catharsis i just felt when i read this section

[liahswriting]

Piercings

Relationship(s): Octane/Original Female Character (platonic)

Words: 1,966

Warnings: None

Summary: Octane talks about his piercings.

"How many piercings do you have?"

The question wasn't exactly out of the blue; she had been curious about Octavio's modifications before and often asked about his tattoos. He gladly explained to her about his prosthetics and had no shame in showing off all the ink adorning his skin and explaining the reasoning for getting each piece. Of course, most of his reasonings were "why not?". She found him interesting in many ways. Mostly it was because he was so incredibly different from her. While Octavio was always on his feet and constantly looking for another thrill, she was content to stay at home and relax. He did everything with speed, she was meticulous and careful. He loved to party and was a social butterfly, she could have just as much fun with a glass of wine and a nice dinner. He was overtly sexual, she was naïve. He was covered in tattoos and piercings, she didn't have any.

How they became friends, no one will ever know. Ajay Che liked to say that she was a nice balance for Octavio. Che often told her that he needed someone to keep him in check since he stopped caring about what Che thinks long ago. Whatever the case may be, she enjoyed having Octavio as a friend; he made her life interesting.

"You mean that I have now or that I've had altogether?"

"Both, I guess." she answered and he hummed in thought. He sat back on the couch, eyes turning every which way and fingers keeping track of the number. She watched in silence from beside him with her elbow pressed against the back of the couch and her head pressed against her palm.

"17" he finally said.

"Where?"

"Right eyebrow, tongue, bottom lip," he used his fingers to point at where the piercings were. "I have this part of my nose pierced," he pressed his thumb and forefinger to the bridge of his nose. "Used to have this part pierced," he then moved his fingers to the middle cartilage of his nose. She watched his fingers move in fascination. She wondered how he could possibly wear his mask and goggled while in the arena with all of his facial piercings. "Three on on my right ear, four on my left, and then I used to have my nipples pierced."

"What happened to the nose and nipple piercings?"

"Nose piercing got ripped off and the nipple piercings just got in the way so I took them out."

"Which one hurt the most?"

"Why all the questions?" Octavio challenged with a smirk. He threw one arm across the back of the couch, knocking against her elbow and forcing her to shift her position.

"Just wondering." she shrugged.

"Mhm. Come on, mami. Di la verdad."

"I don't speak Spanish, Tavi."

"Tell me the truth." he translated.

"I've been thinking about getting one." she said slowly, unable to meet his eyes.

"What?!" he jumped up straight on the couch and now fully turned his body to face her. He had a wide grin on his face. "You are thinking about getting a piercing? And you weren't gonna tell me?"

"I was just thinking about it, Tav. It's not set in stone."

"Come on, chica! You gotta get one!"

"I'm just worried it's gonna hurt a lot."

"If you're worried about the pain, don't be. Even the worst piercing won't hurt for too long."

"And how long is too long?"

"The worst piercing I've ever gotten only hurt for like a week."

"Which one was that?" she asked him again but he didn't provide a verbal answer. Instead, he just smirked at her. "Which one?" she repeated but still no answer. Did he want her to guess? "Was it on your ears?" he shook his head. "Your tongue?"

"Nope. Think lower."

"Your nipples?"

"Nope."

"Then which....?" her sentence trailed off as the cogs in her brain slowly started working. Her eyes mapped out all of the places Octavio had told her he had pierced, carefully counting each piercing. "Wait, you only told me 14. Where were the other 3?" He smirked at her once again. He wanted her to say it. He wanted to hear the surprise in her voice as she said it.

"Come on, chica. Use your brain." he taunted.

"Was it...." she used her hand to circle the air above his private instead of having to vocalize it. Her face burned in embarrassment but that only caused him to laugh at her expense.

"Correcta, bonita."

"Why!" she exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"But doesn't it hurt?"

"Not anymore. Like I said, a week max."

"I can not believe there are men out there who get their... their.... thing pierced."

"Aye, there are women who get their clits pierced." Octavio informed her.

"But whyyyy? I could never do that!"

"To each their own."

"Maybe I just shouldn't get a piercing." she shuddered. "I don't do good with pain."

"No! Come on! You have to get one. I promise it's not that bad."

"I don't even know what I'd get. I was only thinking about it."

"Well then let's talk about it. I can give you a pain rating for each of my piercings to help you decide. And I can go with you when you get it done."

She thought about it for a moment. She wasn't exactly sure if she really wanted to go through with this but it couldn't hurt to at least get some more information. So she nodded at him and he began telling her about each of his piercings and how much it hurt to get. He gave her a pain rating for when he was getting it pierced, for when it was healing, and for now after it was all completely healed. He told her how to keep piercings clean, how to change out the barbells, and what to expect as they heal.

Several days had passed since that conversation and Octavio kept asking her if she made a decision yet. Each time she told him no and he'd drop the subject for awhile until his curiosity got the better of him and he'd ask again. He gave his opinion every chance he got.

"You should get your tongue pierced." he told her.

"I don't know." she said back.

"Your lips don't hurt that much." he informed.

"Maybe." she thought.

"You'd look good with your nipples pierced." he laughed and she gasped at him.

"Octavio Silva!" she slapped at his shoulder and furrowed her eyebrows. He merely laughed a deep belly laugh. "I'm not getting my nipples pierced! Besides, I already made up my mind."

"What!" he jumped in place. "Tell me!"

"I want to get an ear piercing. I figured that would be my safest bet and it wouldn't be too eccentric or out of place."

"Esto es increíble! When will you get it done?"

"My appointment's tomorrow." she said nervously. "You're gonna come with me, right?"

"Of course, hermana! Don't worry, I'll be right beside you."

"Thanks. I'm still kind of nervous."

"It'll be over before you know it!" he assured.

The entire day went by incredibly slow and that night she had trouble keeping asleep. She didn't know why she was working herself up this much. It won't be as bad as she thinks it will but she still found trouble keeping calm. By morning, she was a fidgeting mess. She spent the whole morning with Octavio as she waited for her appointment time and the whole morning he was asking if she was alright. Despite her fears, she told him she was okay. He didn't buy it, of course, but he didn't pressure her in fear of scaring her even more than she already was. Once her appointment time got closer, Octavio got a cab for them to take them to the piercing parlor. Once there, her entire stomach flipped and she felt queasy.

"You sure you're okay?" Octavio asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

"Look, you don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"It's just the pain I'm worried about."

"Everything will be just fine. Come on, take my hand." he held his hand out towards her and she let him take her hand. He lead her inside the place where she checked in for her appointment. It took 10 excruciating long minutes for the room to be prepped and ready for her. 10 long minutes of her brain just going haywire and second-guessing itself but before she could cancel her plans, they called her back and Octavio carefully helped her into the room and onto a table.

"So what are we having done today?" the piercer asked her as he put on some rubber gloves.

"I want to get my industrial pierced." she murmured out. The piercer looked at her questioningly.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

"She's just nervous about it hurting." Octavio answered for her.

"Most first-timers are. I promise to be as gentle and quick as possible." he said and she nodded back. As the piercer was prepping her ear with disinfectant and marking off the spots where the needle was to go through, Octavio was soothing her with words of comfort.

"Squeeze my hand if it hurts." he said to her and she took a hold of said hand tightly in her fist. When the piercer asked her if she was ready, she nodded, took a deep breath, and gave an encouraging squeeze to Octavio's hand. She could feel the needle first prick through the top of her ear and the drag through the hole it just created. She squeezed Octavio's hand tighter and hissed between her teeth. Then the needle pierced through the bottom of her ear and completely stopped all motion. It was a weird sensation having a piece of metal stuck in her skin. The open wound rubbed harshly against the needle, making her eyes water profusely. Her grip on Octavio's hand did very little to take her mind off of the pain. His voice didn't do much to distract her either. It was then that the piercer moved the needle again and took it out of her ear, in it's place was a barbell. The piercer was careful not to tug the object as he screwed on the end ball to keep it from falling out of her ear.

"All done." she heard him say.

"See, that wasn't so bad." Octavio reassured. He wiped his free thumb over her cheeks to wipe away the tears that had fallen but she couldn't see him passed the tears that had gathered in her eyes. Once the piercer had gone over how to take care of the piercing, he got up to escort her back to the front for payment. But when she stood, she wobbled on her feet and almost toppled over. Octavio caught her before she could fall.

"You okay? You feel nauseous?" asked Octavio.

"No. Just woozy."

"Here, you sit for a moment, I'll go pay."

When she nodded back to him, he got up and left her alone. She took long, deep breaths to regain herself and dried her eyes with a tissue. Her head didn't feel any less dizzy but she was confident she wasn't going to pass out, so once Octavio was finished with paying the man for his services, she allowed him to help her back out to the cab to take them back to his place. He kept an arm around her at all times just to be sure she wasn't going to collapse. She didn't collapse, but she did rest her head against his shoulder and he tangled his fingers in her hair.

"Thanks for coming with me." she murmured.

"Any time, bonita."

[dipulb3]

Prabal Gurung: Anti-Asian sentiment runs deeper than you think

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/prabal-gurung-anti-asian-sentiment-runs-deeper-than-you-think/

Prabal Gurung: Anti-Asian sentiment runs deeper than you think

Written by Prabal GurungNew York

Prabal Gurung is a Nepali American fashion designer based in New York. All opinions expressed in this article belong to the author. The feature is part of Appradab Style’s new series Hyphenated, which explores the complex issue of identity among minorities in the United States.

My 75-year-old Nepali mother, who lives in New York, goes for a walk every morning and every evening. I send her out in disguise: I bought her a blonde wig, and I tell her to wear it under a hat, glasses and mask. “Maybe then, they’ll leave her alone,” I think. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s my survival instinct kicking in.

“I understand your concern and worry,” my mami, as I like to call her, told me the other day.

“But I would rather get a walking stick or a cane, just in case something happens. I can fight back,” she assured me, adjusting her wig and hat.

That’s just how she is: resilient, unafraid and a picture of grace under pressure. I admire her strength but continue to worry for her safety. I check in constantly so I know where she is at any given time.

This is what it’s come to. A fear so constant that it’s crippling.

“By using terms like “China Virus” and “Kung Flu,” Trump gave the coronavirus a face, an Asian face, and for that, we have all suffered.”

Prabal Gurung

Here’s where we’re at:

A torrent of anti-Asian hate crimes have been committed, including the brutal assault of elderly Asian men and women in broad daylight. Among them is 65-year-old Vilma Kari, who just last week in New York, was told “F**k you, you don’t belong here, you Asian,” according to the criminal complaint, before being pushed to the ground and kicked repeatedly by her attacker. The shootings at three Atlanta-area spas have left six Asian women dead. Nearly 3,800 hate incidents have so far been reported to Stop AAPI Hate over the course of a year. It feels as if there’s an open season for violence against Asians.

By using terms like “China Virus” and “Kung Flu,” former US President Donald Trump gave the coronavirus a face, an Asian face, and for that, we have all suffered. While his damaging rhetoric has no doubt fueled these hate crimes, their roots are buried deep in underlying racist currents that have long impacted our communities in the United States.

They can be found in every industry. For instance, when it comes to my world — fashion — the consequences of systemic racism play out daily. And not just in the form of microaggressions.

As someone who has a platform, who has clout, I have always believed it’s my responsibility to speak out.

‘Who gets to be American?’

Fashion at its purest, simplest form, is a reflection of the world we live in. It doesn’t operate in a vacuum but instead influences — and is influenced by — music, culture, social movements and politics.

Whatever your views are, everyone engages with fashion at some level. For most of us, it’s one of the first decisions we make each morning. I believe in its greater purpose — as a tool of empowerment. But as much as fashion projects its power outwards, behind the scenes, it can be a very different story.

I was born in Singapore, grew up in Nepal and lived in India, and in these countries, you’re faced with issues such as colorism, caste discrimination and hierarchal social structures. When I started my brand 12 years ago, I wanted it to show marginalized people that they are seen, and that they matter. But until recently, it’s been an uphill battle.

“I was advised to limit the diversity of my runways because clients wouldn’t be as receptive to non White models: “‘two Black women, two Asian women — OK that’s enough.'”

Prabal Gurung

The question of who dictates style, or what we consider tasteful or chic, is still viewed through a colonial lens, shaped by centuries-old Eurocentric ideals. Unrealistic beauty standards are often elitist, discriminatory and ultimately, constructed to maintain a proximity to Whiteness that allows those in power to feel important and secure. Decision-makers are, predominantly, White.

This plays out in a number of ways.

Fashion inspired by minority cultures, or rooted in the heritage of a minority designer’s heritage, may be tokenized as “exotic” or “ethnic,” or disparaged in hushed tones as “tacky and garish.” Tone-deaf campaigns and racist garments are often created because there are no people of color in the room that feel empowered enough to stop them from going ahead.

Early in my own career, I was advised to limit the diversity of my runways because clients wouldn’t be as receptive to non White models: “two Black women, two Asian women — OK that’s enough.”

I also recall wanting to open a collection with Korean model Ji Hye Park, and it sparked such a big discussion with the brand’s other stakeholders. “Should we? Shouldn’t we? Is it cool? Does it make sense? Is this idea… luxury?”

These kinds of conversations were initially shocking. But I became used to witnessing microaggressions or blatant discrimination against the few Asian people who, like myself and other people of color, were able to break into this industry. Yes, fashion continues to make strides in the right direction, but we still have miles to go. Today, I still see Black, Latinx, Asian, Native American and LGBTQ peers being tokenized by the industry, called upon to perform inclusivity.

Models walk the Prabal Gurung runway during New York Fashion Week on September 8, 2019. Credit: Mike Coppola/Getty Images

I’ve often been challenged about my “American-ness.” During a planning meeting for my label’s 10th anniversary collection in 2018, an investor asked me to express what I felt my brand stood for.

I began explaining that American style had always been seen through a White lens. But as a first-generation Asian immigrant, as a minority, as a queer person of color, I wanted to redefine the country’s style because our experiences have been underrepresented. The way I look at this country is an amalgamation of different cultures, races, ethnicities, religions and sizes, and that should be celebrated.

He, in turn, asked, “Well you don’t look American, how can you define American style?”

It was clear to me what he meant by his statement: I wasn’t White, therefore I had no authority to shape the American ideal. And this despite being an American citizen who owns a business in this country — one who employs Americans and immigrants, embraces a “Made in America” production ethos and pays taxes. For some people it’s just never enough.

I ended up turning that collection into a celebration of American identity and belonging, sending a diverse cast of models down the runway in denim, white short-sleeved shirts, rose prints and, during the finale, sashes bearing the question: “Who gets to be American?”

While the show had a lot of positive feedback, and started a healthy dialogue about identity, there were some who felt it was too on the nose. This is how privilege works. It was a luxury to be in the position to say that it was “too much” or “too direct.” However, when it comes to fighting for basic human rights, it is never too much. It is never too loud.

We need to tell our stories

It’s clear that the road to a more equitable fashion industry is long. Until brands genuinely diversify their decision-makers and boards — not just with token hires, but with people actually willing to strike up difficult, uncomfortable conversations that challenge biases — it won’t change. And, let’s be honest, brands’ efforts to embrace Asian culture have been motivated by the spending power of countries like China, India and South Korea, not some moral awakening.

But, cynicism aside, just like conversations brought about by the Black Lives Matter protests, the Stop Asian Hate movement is inviting renewed scrutiny of fashion’s role in perpetuating racism and discrimination — from runways and collections to workplace culture.

“We need to be in every corner and exist in every space.”

Prabal Gurung

Asian Americans in the industry should recognize that we have an important role to play. As a whole, more than 60% of the global population lives in Asia, according to the United Nations. Asians are the world’s biggest consumers of clothing, and we manufacture most of it too. Yet, told that our voices don’t matter, we’ve mostly played supporting roles, quietly and submissively catering to the needs of businesses.

It’s not enough. It’s time to speak out and step up.

Take this time to donate, build your skills by participating in harassment intervention training, and support existing social justice organizations and initiatives such as Stop AAPI Hate and Asian Americans Advancing Justice (AAJC). Familiarize yourself with non-profit organizations like Gold House and Define American who are shaping culture, forming solidarity through intersectionality and creating impactful, sustainable long-term solutions for challenges facing our communities.

The solidarity protests over the past few weeks have been extremely heartwarming. I have demonstrated alongside my peers, activists, community leaders and regular New Yorkers, telling our truths and, between other minorities and marginalized groups, finding support and common ground.

The “End Violence Against Asians” march in the Chelsea neighborhood of New York City on February 20, 2021. Credit: Robert Hamada

We need to be in every corner and exist in every space. The more that our stories are told, the more that our faces, our experiences and our humanity will not only be normalized but embraced.

We must claim our rightful seats at the table, and then use those positions to empower other marginalized groups. Visibility is key, and we must craft our own narratives and tell our own stories.

Top image caption: Prabal Gurung captured at the “Black and Asian Solidarity” march at Union Square in New York City on March 21, 2021 by photographer Robert Hamada.

[silentghosttimez]

Gonna ramble and rant a bit bc this irl really pisses me off sometimes but I'm now gonna list the shit that has happened between us for the past few years:

In high school and middle school I FREQUENTLY got harassed in bullied and it had happened a few times when she was just right there, she NEVER stepped in, not even once. I will never forget how she let some dude she constantly groped just talk shit right to my face and she was even on the verge of laughing a few times, not once even stepping in.

In some occasions I unknowingly had something in my hair or food on my clothing, she never said anything, just let me walk around until I actually fucking noticed it myself.

I may be neurodivergent and I didn't catch a joke or understand certain social cues which lead me to sometimes interrupting, and/or talking about what I THOUGHT they were talking about. A time that happened she just let me talk and then I noticed that she and her secret bf at the time started sidetalking about me, which lead me to immediately going silent.

In our former friend group I frequently got punched, kicked, and ridiculed, she never did anything.

She only ever stepped in when it was something as miniscule as a dude she was buddies with taking my chromebook, pencil or paper.

She constantly gets suicidal and I have to stop her from doing so, I am far from mentally well and also get suicide ideation. In the few times I've voiced this to her, her only response is usually a 'yikes' or 'oooof' which makes things worse for me as there's nobody in my household that takes me seriously or is even educated in mental health, my household just labels everyone that suffers with mental health issues 'crazy' and tell me I "just want to be going to the doctor". You'd think that your only irl would actually care but I guess not.

She constantly decides to have unprotected sex with dudes she knows which leads her to coming to me with the "I might be pregnant" thing, she has done this as recently as a few days ago.

She once groped a dude's junk in class and I requested that she not touch me. She fucking did so anyways and this has happened more than twice.

Throughout especially the last year of high school, leading up to school being cancelled for the rest of the year due to covid, she and her fake friends constantly talked shit about me and made fun of me. She'd also much rather hang out with them instead of with me which once lead me to having a breakdown in a bathroom, she and her fake friend walked in and then pretended I wasn't there, laughing and joking and shit, which made things worse but I had to make my way back to class after the teacher took pity and let me go cry in the bathroom before the rest of my classmates came in and saw.

I have extreme issues with how she just decided to continue to go out just to meet up with friends or go to fucking six flags in the middle of a damn pandemic, it doesn't matter that you're wearing a goddamn mask, it's still unsafe and careless.

She once sent me nudes after I made a very obvious joke and retracted my statement immediately and begged her not to actually do it. She sent it anyways which made me uncomfortable...

She frequently just feels comfortable telling me she's horny...she also says shit like "fuck me" and occasionally calls me 'mami' 🤢🤢 it makes me extremely uncomfortable, and the way I respond signifies that, but she still continues to do it anyways...

She never tells me things, lies to me, or never gives full truths, this has been an issue since middle school. She has said her grandmother is an ally but then recently she's been talking about how her grandmother is actually homophobic. She once just outed a dude to me and said he was gay, but then one day, she just says she just fucked said "gay" dude.

She gets passively aggressive when I don't immediately understand that she's using sarcasm, and the only times she's been like that is in public...

I find myself not requesting or asking anything of her since she has NEVER delivered on any promise or anything I ask of her. She once told me she could give away a copy of Diablo that she had, I got excited and asked if she could give it to me, she said she could. But then a few days later when I asked about it she pretended that she forgot, a few days after that she said "ask my brothers" I didn't even KNOW she had brothers, nor did I even know them enough to just fucking walk up to them and ask for a video game that their sister had promised she'd give me, also they were in like 6th grade so them seeing a black high school student who is frequently mistaken as being a senior among people in my own high school definitely would not have my made me look good in any way

She felt comfortable using the word nigga despite not being black in any way

She calls herself person of color bc her dad is a brown skinned mexican and she has native blood however she looks like your average white person with a bigger than normal forhead

My mental health drains day by day 🙃

[twilightpony4]

Ola Americano... Turtle?: 20. Rio

Man, Michelangelo sure couldn’t wait for this adventure. The turtle would not let a single one a moment to forget all the time they were wasting lollygagging around by insufficient actions like “eating” or “changing into more festive wears”. He was on a mission! A mission of his own! Donatello insisted they would be alright to go out into the crowds and be seen by others. Just like Mikey had done at the Halloween parade a while back, people will be more impressed by their costume than be alarmed by the large six-foot mutants walking amongst them. It definitely took a lot of push for Leonardo and Raphael to go with it, but they finally caved in. Although, they had to admit that it was weird to emerge from a National Park as a bunch of reptiles in swim trunks and suits, but not too many people seemed to be judgemental. They were all having too much fun celebrating.

“Are we really going to a party full of video vixens?” Mona commented as they walked their way through the streets. Already they found some more lewd parties that made Michelangelo act like a dog ( Leo already had to drag him off to keep from drooling), but Donnie had other plans for them (much to the latter of the party’s wishes). “I taking you all to the more ‘softer’ side of the festival.” He re-explained for certain. Where they were currently, the people were mostly beachgoers taking pictures with the people in costume. When they set eyes on the large band, they were struck with awe, wonder, and confusion. Naturally, there were a few who asked to take a picture with them, but understandably they had to decline. Their excuse? Undercover police-people. That kept them off their backs and on their best behavior. “Every neighborhood, or ‘blocos’ has a different theme for a block party. I would have taken you to the superhero one but I thought in all our best interests to experience something a little unusual yet familiar.”

“What theme is it?” Venus asked as she held a red straw between her fingers. For an american dollar, a vendor allowed her to purchase a kid-friendly Pineapple Sangria (a decent scan from Donatello proved it safe for consumption). Mona Lisa pointed at the colorful cup, in which her generously lifted it up to her for a sip. “I kept us in a pretty neutral space considering some ‘warring’ on what should or should not be seen or done in a Sambadrome bloco.” “The theme, Donnie.” He received a quick shove on the shell by the biggest brother before he could ramble on. Don smirked because he was agging them on on purpose. While walking, they began to notice a pattern. The further they walked, the more concentration of people dressed up in wild editions of animal costumes. Donnie waited for someone to say something, but these kids needed a guide. Fortunately, they were coming towards a denser crowd. As solitary beings, it was a little overwhelming. People were watching something. THey hung in the back at a distance. Despite being as tall as they are, they were far back enough to not see the commotion. Venus decided to be the brave one by taking Michelangelo by the hand and dragging him inside. In the name of both curiosity and the fear of losing them, the rest of the family attempted to follow their path. Before then, it was a small twitch of social anxiety by walking amongst so many eyes and bodies, now they were rubbing elbows. Being as big and inexperienced as they are, the group (aside from the already social Mona) kept their arms over the people’s heads. They waved them around as they tried to avoid them, like tiptoeing past a colony of small animals that you made sure you would not hurt a single one. It wasn’t hard to spot the two large 6-footers in the crowd but it sure was getting past them. On the plus side, anyone who wanted to fight them will most likely back down due to their size. Truly there was a lot of apologizing. Those shells aren’t fully under their control and they could feel some unfortunate ones unexpectedly hit them. Low and behold, there wasn’t some type of battle, but rather comradery. Everyone was cheering and going wild for the people dancing together. All were in intricate animal costumes with a Sambadromo flair as they danced to the native music on the mosaic pieces of the cemented walkway. Their jaws dropped. What were they supposed to focus on? The fast pace moves? The beat of the music? The jingling jewelry or the fluttering feathers they adorned upon themselves? It was a thing of beauty. “‘Beasts of the Jungle.’” He finally answered. The crowd went wild as people wanted to join in the party, in which the dancers were more than glad to have alongside them. There was not much room to all fit on the platform due to the outstretched wings, feathers, and fins that took up a lot of space, but the crowd responded well and would push back to give it to them. There was a noticeable commotion behind them. When Leonardo turned, a woman dressed as a seahorse pushed past him with a smile and jumped into the fray. One of her large shoulder fins hit the mutants in the face. The woman took notice and turned to say ‘sorry’ in her native tongue. However, Michelangelo couldn’t feel more in love. “What beautiful culture. Beautiful, sexy culture!” He cried to himself, biting his lip and bringing a fist up to his face. The leader then half-turned to Donatello. His hands were in his hips with his head down. Oh man, that's some down-low fatherly lecturing stance. “You said ‘softer’ side.” His upset state was masked by a cool stature and calmed tone. “I also said I was a Jedi when we were 8.” Donnie smiled. “You guys fell for both times.” Leonardo was still not amused. In order to help him lighten up, Donatello took a step forward and invited Leo in by spinning him around to watch the festivities with a friendly embrace with his arm over his shoulders. “We can still have fun without all that mess.” Venus jumped in. She too, wrapped an arm around him on the other side of his body. As they watched, she cocked her head to the side. “Where did that stigma come from anyways that it had to be truly wild for actual fun?” “Party animals, my people!” Michelangelo hollered with outstretched arms. “Aye aye aye mami!” “Shhhhh!” Raphael yanked back on his arm to make him stop. “Stop being an animal.” Leo advised with his ‘dad’ tone. “Can’t stop what you already are, and this cat is ready to pounce.” “You are a turtle, Michelangelo.” Venus added. The young turtle threw her a tired look. “Work with me?” he yearned for understanding. “Respect these girls,” Donnie asked. “Sambadromo is literally a competition between Samba dance schools. They’ve worked way too hard in the studio to be torn from their fun and freedom for some random people to call and ostracize them.” Michelangelo gave him a smile with a slight cringe while closing his eyes and spreading out his arms. “Nobody said nothing about Ostrich-sizing.” He then put both of his hands on his chest with an apprehensive expression. “I just wanted to give them the best of my love and appreciation.” The samba they were dancing to began to fade. Soon, the dancers began to slow down. Some, although laughing and enjoying themselves, had moved on. Some of the crowd pieced away as well. The movement then replaced the front crowd with the back crowd and some newcomers. That, except the mutant family who debated silently on whether or not to prt and explore more. However, a familiar beat of the drums got the crowd going again. Then, Michelangelo lit up. “I know this one!” He gasped with an ugly, surprised look. Suddenly, the orange banded turtle barrelled through to get into the clearing. More dancers followed behind him, pushing past the mutant family to participate in V.I.C’s old dance ‘Wobble’. Feeling the beat, the turtle was feeling it as he walked his way into the line dance. He kept himself between two girls dressed as a peacock and a butterfly who were having as much fun as he was as they laughed and danced. “Aye! Wobble it, wobble, girl, wobble it!” He chanted as they danced along with one another. “Leo, c’mon!” He shouted, waving him in. “Get the twerk team out here!” The family all laughed and smiled towards the leader who had crossed his arms and kept to himself. “Naw, I’m good.” “What? You scared?!” He challenged as he moved more intensively. “C’mon! Coooome on! I know you want to!” The blue leader shook his head. “I don’t need any more attention drawn to me.” “Too late!” Raphael gave him a mighty push into the fray. Leo was sent forward. He couldn’t stop himself until he was right before the feet of the dancers. A male parrot grasped him on the arm along with the aid of a female sheep. With a heave, the two aided in helping him up and pulled him in with them. Putting him between them, the turtle was stuck as those around him were getting down to the line dance. Practically forced, the turtle began to bounce awkwardly and move slowly despite his expertise with the dance. “Loosen up, fearless leader.” Michelangelo called, who was not too far away from him. The longer he was left in there, the more comfortable he became. The leader then began to be himself amongst the crowd, dancing like the fool he was. Although the rest of them kept on the sidelines, the mutants couldn’t be more entertained than watching the ‘hometown twerk team’ go at it in the brazilian square. As fun as it was, the mutants needed to move on from the dancing to explore more of the festival. When ‘Twerk Team’ had to leave, the dancers and some of the crowd were disappointed to see them go. They were so entertaining. At the moment, they all stopped to see a caribbean drum line perform with an out-of-state- fire dancer. While they watched, Michelangelo slipped away to get himself a virgin Pineapple Sangria after getting a taste of Venus’. He held the cup close as he slurped on the straw. Suddenly, a man shuffled to get to him. Michelangelo was on alert, instinctively getting his legs in a ready stance. He stared at him wide eyed as he spoke between breaths. “Fantasia incrível! Você está associado a um flutuador para esta noite? Temos alguns espaços abertos para peças tão incríveis que irão bem com o nosso tema da selva!” The orange banded turtle clicked his tongue three times. “Inglés?” He asked shyly. “Not very good.” The man said with little disappointment. Then, he pointed to the herd of green beings. “Would they want on float tonight?” he asked. Mikkey stopped drinking immediately and hunched over on his level. “We get to ride on one?!” His stated in disbelief. The man had the best smile. “Yes.” “DUUUUDES!!” He screamed without warning. Then, he remembered the man and quieted down. “Yes! We would! Thank you!” Mikey nodded and shook his hand vigorously. “DUUUUDES!” He shouted again. The family took their eyes off the show for just a second to see an excited turtle next to a native man. They rushed to his side. “Now ya’ll wanna hear me!” He bounced sassily and rolled his head. “We never did.” Raphael commented as they approached with curiosity. Understandably, they eyed the man standing beside Mikey. “This dude’s letting us ride on their float tonight!” He exclaimed. “How exciting!” Venus bounced while the rest of the family agreed with inaudible excitement. But of course, there’s always that one....

“I don’t know…” Leonardo had his arm crossed over his chest. Everyone slowly turned in his direction and kept silent. He tapped his toe. “Being exposed in front of everyone is not exactly part of our job description.” Yes, they agreed to expose themselves in front of hundreds, but now they were going to take the risk of being in front of thousands live and millions by the TV coverage. They were barely comfortable in front of the smaller crowds, how could they think they could take on the big ones like that? He’s seen the movie Rio. Sure, it was a cartoon, but the festival hype shouldn’t be that far fetched from it. “Who’s really gonna notice?” Donatello giving his input was always the best option. He was the most logical and Leo normally sides with him. They really hoped today was one of those days. The leader jerked his head to the side, still uneasy. “People will just see us as costume and those who know about us can’t hurt us. We’re on a different continent.” “Trajes!” The man tugged on Mikey’s arm. As he pulled him away, the rest followed him. “Trajes agora para que possamos estar preparados para qualquer coisa!” “English would be nice!” Mikey was hesitant at every step as he pulled him towards a setup of tents. There were other people there in typical Samba costume coming in and out of the tents. As the man escorted them in, in the clearing of the surrounding tents, there were a could coat racks of cloth, accessories, and feathers. “Ooooh! Costumes!” Mona jumped in and started tearing through the racks with Venus. “I love it!” Venus exclaimed as she held something soft against her cheek. The man that let them in was calling for people to come by. As the three people came in, two women and a man, he gave them orders and started going through the racks but not without noticing the impressive turtle costumes. “I’m still on the fence.” Leo announced. However, his thoughts were ignored as one of the brazilian helpers gave a pile of cloth and feathers into Mona’s arms. Next, the woman stood behind her and ushered her into a vacant tent. “And i’m going to try these on.” The lizard girl said with a laugh before closing the flap behind her. Right behind her, more clothes-stuff were handed to the mutants. Neither Raphael or Leonardo were as excited as they looked at the colorful clothing. “Play dress up with us!” Venus called, exposing her head from the curtain. “Come on!” With that, she and the others disappeared behind the white tents. The two brothers stood there, eyeing their pieces. “Why is mine bigger?” Raphael brought it to his brother’s eyes. Leo shrugged for he did not care too greatly. The red banded turtle shook his head and went behind a vacant tent. Left alone, and obviously outvoted, the leader sighed and shook his head as he too pulled the curtains behind him. “There is no way I’m wearing this! I look like the king of frogs.” Raphael pouted. He sat in a small folding chair with a stuffy look and his arms crossed in the open area. The costume was a mix of various greens and gold with an amphibian touch to the large green frills around the neckline and as a headpiece. Alongside the headpiece, tall, proud green feathers arose from the top of his head. The turtle was green from head to toe in a hilarious assortment. “Not really. Jump in a trash can and you can be Oscar the Grouch.” Mikey teased. Leonardo and Donatello were there too. As Raphael was dressed in a green robe, the others wore decorated shorts with fabricated cuffs around their knees and calves. Their necks held regal, thick cage necklaces with matching arm bands. On the tops of their heads were no longer their bandanas because of the committee's wishes but now headbands with a number of feather atop their heads. Leo’s had the most and Michelangelo had the least with none that went with the blue and yellow color code. Each set had its own unique qualities such as a draping, shimmering belt, bedazzled pieces, or a set of falling chains. “I can’t go out like this!” He exasperated. Just looking down at the green shimmering cloth covering his legs made him kick out at it. Yes, he was the least exposed but being the same color throughout and rid of his mask was embarrassing. “Disrespectful.” Mikey whispered as he fastened his headband down. “Hey! You!” He called out to a woman passing by. She did not notice him as she went through the racks. Raphael persisted. “Got anything else?” He tried again, but his pleas were on deaf ears as she got what she needed and walked away. “Oh, you’re one of those. You one of them deaf people.” “Or she speaks a different language.” Raphael disowned Donatello’s explanation with an annoyed expression and a look in a different direction.

“I am not wearing this!” Oh boy, that was Mona shouting. “Here we go.” Mikey rolled his eyes. Coming through the curtains, the two sisters emerged from their shared room. They gave them both the basics of a bikini costume set, but on steroids. Mona was dressed in gold with a dangling necklace that fell all the way to her bellybutton. A brown loincloth draped down until it hit the base of her laced up stilettos. Along her shins, proud blue feathers sprouted which matched with the elaborate headset that mimicked the fashion of a proud cockatoo. Venus didn’t fare much better. She was THE most feathered with a headset that was loaded and draped with long feathering on top and along the sides of her head. Saddled on either sides of her shell were proud, colorful wings that resembled a scarlet macaw. Due to her situation, the wings had to be separated into singular pieces. Without the feathers on her legs like Mona (as if she needed any more of those), she wore sheer, shimmering red sleeves that went into a red rhinestone bikini set. The guys shied back.

“Whoa girls! Ever heard of modesty?” Mikey teased. “Hey!” Mona called defensively. “Before I found this piece of cloth, I was wearing two sugar packets and a dorito!” Which was true. The top they had on her before wasn’t the most modest and then the thought of wearing a thong in public? Not for this girl. “Should’ve kept it on.”  Michelangelo muttered under his breath. It was meant to be a joke, but it didn’t sit lightly with the rest as Raphael gave him a respective slap behind his head.“Ow!” He gasped, holding the hurt spot. “I hate Spring!” He muttered some more. “Shut up!” Raphael whispered through the grit in his teeth. Venus groaned. “It is so weird wearing a bra.” Taking the base of it, she began tugging on it. “I walk around topless all the time. Can I take it off?” “I wouldn’t.” Leonardo spoke low. Swiftly, Venus spun around with a finger on a mission. “No bust, no say.” She spoke firmly. In her mind, she was sure she was asking Mona Lisa. Leo shook his head like he shook away that misconception. “I meant that it would keep the police off our backs. They could think it’s painted until they get a closer view. No need for them to find out we are a crew of turtles.” “I feel like a bird more than anything in all these feathers.” The female turtle inspected the wings on the side of her body. Leo cracked a smile. They all were a pretty sight. Despite being reptiles, the float crew insisted they’d have feather (except for Raph).

The once purple banded turtle extended a large duffle bag to Mona. When she opened it, it was full of everyone else’s stuff. Katanas, belts, everything. She and Venus went back into their dressing room and filled it up with their belongings; weapons on top. “I’ll keep a hold on our bag.” Donnie extended his arm after Venus zipped it up. She handed it over to him, in which he hiked it up over his shoulder. “And I’ll take it  when you don’t want it anymore.” Raph assured. “C’Mon Y'all!” Mikey shouted while waving a fist in the air. “LETS GOOO!”

Given the little English that their newfound friend, they were able to understand that the floats will not be running until sunset, which was the time they were expected back. To pass the time, the rest of the costumed crew wanted to take it to the streets. Following them, they went on a musical and lively tour through the towns on foot. The real dancers and performers took pictures with people and children and welcomed those everywhere. As outgoing as they are by themselves, the mutant family kept mostly to waving. Whatever they were doing, they still got a much loved appreciation of their fantastic looks. Despite being the least exposed, Raphael kept himself in the middle of the pack, hiding. In the middle of the commotion, he was out of sorts after he felt someone latch onto his hand. Because of the crowd, the interlock was concealed. He looked down to see a familiar dark green and small hand. His eyes trailed up the arm to see Mona who was facing forward. When she felt his eyes on her, she smiled but didn’t dare to turn to him. Seeing the benefit in it, he kept forward as well. “I don’t like mine either.” Mona spoke softly, but the male turtle could hear her.

Through their tour, they explored other neighborhoods and scoured the beaches. They weren’t exactly sure which ones but they sure were live and beautiful. As they entered a more familiar hood, Leonardo kept a closer eye on what made it so familiar. Along their parade, they hit a quick ‘dead-patch’ or a lesser crowded area. This part was a little more industrial than it was residential or commercial. Suddenly, his eye caught onto it.

“Isn’t that the TCRI building?” The finger he pointed at the building guided their curious eyes. As if he really needed to ask. The full name of the building was spelled out on its side. “Indeed it is.” Donatello nodded while sticking out his bottom lip. The leader began to slow down his pace. The people behind him avoided and past them up as they all followed him to a complete stop. His eyes never left the structure. “You guys wouldn’t mind checking it out again?” They were going to be called by sunset, it was nearly there but they shouldn’t be gone too long. There was definitely enough time to take another look. Besides, you never know what you can find. Another clue to their investigation possibly? Definitely a winner if so. “You’re asking us?” Raph mumbled critically. “No, not really.” Leo then began to move towards it, excusing himself from the people walking vertically in his path. “Thought so.”

Donnie was already on it with his security scan. The lights of the facility were on but the family was tucked away after finding access to a utility closet. This was mostly a recon mission, especially since engaging in a fight will be less effective in such bright and goofy costumes. There was a small rectangular window that looked out onto the floor. The ninjas kept to the sides to hide, but the youngest was front and center. His eyes peeked out through the window. “Whoa, this place live.” He commented. The machines were alive and well from the last time they were there and the new found light showed how much bigger the facility really was. Making a judgement call after no one has even passed the closet let alone was spotted out the window, Venus took a step into the strip of light to see. “How come they aren’t celebrating outside? Isn’t this one of those national holidays?” She questioned. Following her example, the rest of the family took a step in. “It’s a lab. They work when they have to.” Donnie explained, his nose was still in his duffle bag where he sheltered the light from his tablet from any outside eyes. “I’ve yet to see people in here.” Mikey spoke in a fashion that was more of an indirect suggestion. Donatello had gotten up, his tablet back in his duffle bag and over his shoulder. “Security is down.” He stated. Leonardo reached for the doorknob and opened it. Flinging into the shadows of the machines, each mutant disappeared until the last one closed the door behind them. They crept around stealthily. At every turn, there was no people in the vicinity. The situation was odd because of the machines that spurred and buzzed without anyone supervising them. There had to be someone here. They made the decision to climb up to the skywalk to overlook the entire warehouse.

Strolling down the way felt like they were a villain in an old action movie. All they needed was a tied up hero in a boiling vat. They hung onto the rails, looking for just a single person for them to be aware of. Alas, they could not find one. None of the six pairs of eyes could just find one. Donatello straightened up and rubbed his chin in a puzzle. “That’s weird. The conveyor belts and machines are working, but there’s no one around.” “Move!” Venus shrieked. Her senses hit her with a bang! “Eat this you freaks!” The neck of a nearby crane came in the swoop the surface of the skywalk. The female turtle was able to push Raphael down and out of the way, but for the others, it was too late. They were carried off by the end of the crane. Their bodies fell straight down and hit the main floor. Venus and Raphael crawled to the edge to see if their family was okay. Hurt, they still were squirming to stand. For the most part they landed in a pile and landed in the fragile wooden boxes instead of solid concrete. The two turtles up above jumped down by jumping and landing on nearby equipment to get away from the mysterious madman. “This guy’s totally off his meds.” Raph huffed in a hoarse voice. That crane was a little too surprising. “Says ‘Oscar the Grouch’.” Mikey muttered, trying to straighten up and pop his back. Venus and Raphael went over trying to assist the hurt up and on their feet. “Seriously? He’s the bad guy!” Then, there was a slow clap that caught their attentions. The family growled, seething as they looked up at the skywalk.

“Well, you got me! You finally found me! And culturally immersed.” A man spoke heartily at their demise (and costume choice). He emerged from the shadows in a white lab coat. The man wore glasses, had red hair… it was Chapelin. He smiled deviously at the fallen. “I’ve got to say that you guys are much better than what Stockman gives you credit. Taking down and tracking down my men, I’ll tell you, I thought you almost had me the last time you were here.” “It was you! You were the shadow!” Leonardo announced, pointing an accusatory finger. The scientist shrugged like a sarcastic ‘whoops’. “That’s right!” Chapelin spoke strongly. “I really would like to continue our talks, you are all very incredible, but I must prepare unveiling the statue.” Everything was coming together. All of their leads proved true. He was going to dig for that statue. It was going to be extremely illegal and wrong for one and if the legend behind it could possibly be true, he would be untouchable. “Like we’re really going to let you do that.” Mikey rolled his eyes and gave him a sassy pose. “Yeah! And there’s like…. One… one…” Raphael began to ‘count’ opponents with an appropriate attitude. “yeah, just one you. And if there’s any more, we’ll take them down too.” He made sure of that, especially since Donatello gave him a big confidence boost by planting his sais in his hands. The techie brother, with his staff in hand, leaned gingerly on his shoulder. He pointed a finger at him and nodded confidently. “Act as high and mighty as you want but the odds aren’t very great for you.” Chapelin raised his brow. Mona Lisa came to the other side of Raphael. She stared down at her Naga Surujin; tossing the ball up and down, she smiled. “Donnie’s a genius at probability so why don’t you come down and go to jail? Hm? Keep it easy.” She eyed Chapelin and began to spin the ball end around in a small circle. The man was unphased. “I’ll give you a fair fight. I have something very special for you.” The man reached into his pocket. A small device was fiddled with, then began to start beeping. A bump in the dark made them jump. There were thundering steps that were slow. The mutant family stood ready for they were yet to see what was coming. Far in the background, a large machine turned the corner and began to rush quickly down the line. Its loud, mechanical roars shook them to their core. This really wasn’t going to be good. The machine stopped underneath the skywalk. It looked like on of those ‘mouser’ things they saw at Ruffington’s, but this ne was put together and much bigger. Try the size of two elephants stacked on top of one another. And if the size wasn’t enough, the creature had three heads. Count them. Three heads. “Meet my greatest invention yet!” Chapelin exclaimed proudly. “The Cerberus Mouser!”