#It's one thing to say that sie might have identified with that is sie were still alive today

[rjalker]

made with speech to text. I can't find the post, and I forget who posted it, but I saw somebody saying that Leslie Feinberg was transmasculine and I just want to start hitting people

No people, you do not get to fucking go around deciding that people were transmasculine simply because they were assigned female at birth. What part of "it is harmful to push your own specific modern ideas and identities onto historical figures who have no way of speaking up for themselves" do you not understand.

Stop forcing non-binary people into a new binary box and acting like it is progressive. Stop assigning dead people the gender identities that you personally identify with when their own words about their identity are right fucking there for you to see and respect.

If you can't respect Leslie Feinberg without saying that sie was transmasculine because you are a biological and gender essentialist and can only relate to transmasculine people, you have a fucking problem and you are exorsexist

Do not assign dead people gender identities that they did not hold. That's fucking misgendering. This is not a difficult fucking concept. I know you people understand that misgendering is bad.

But I also know none of you people care about non-binary people and think it's okay to call us whatever binary terms you come up with, but that's literally not how this fucking works. Stop fucking misgendering people, stop fucking misgendering dead people. Stop assuming that dead people who cannot correct you would be perfectly fine with you assigning them transmasculine for any other brand new fucking gender identity that you use as a synonym for what you are assigned at birth.

Leslie Feinberg's identity is not something you get to fucking change and dictate to benefit yourself. Being assigned female at birth does not make you transmasculine. They are not fucking synonyms even if you use them that way. Transmasculine is not a synonym for any person assign female at birth who dresses masculinely or identifies as masculine.

It is a specific fucking gender identity. And you do not get to assign it to people who have literally no fucking say in the matter because they're fucking dead.

You people cannot fucking go around assuming that because a non-binary person was assigned female at birth that means that they would be okay with you calling them trans masculine after their death.

I swear to gods when I die someday I'm going to come back to haunt every fucking extrasexist sack of shit that decides to misgender me by applying the brand new made up binary terms that they just came up with to erase nonbinary people.

If you actually care about trans people, then that requires that you not fucking apply gender identities after their fucking death that they did not fucking identify with in life. You are not fucking helping anyone. And yes it is still fucking misgendering even if you think it's a positive thing to do. If you can only stand in solidarity with people who share your exact identity, including dead people that you are assigning this identity to when they have no way to fucking choose that for themselves anymore, you're not standing in solidarity with anyone.

We cannot just go around casually assigning dead trans people gender identities that they did not identify with when they were alive and call yourself an ally. And no you do not get a free pass for this shit even if you're also nonbinary.

"Don't fucking misgender people and assume people's genders" is how to be an ally 101 and you fucking people can't even manage that

Feinberg stated in a 2006 interview that her pronouns varied depending on context:

For me, pronouns are always placed within context. I am female-bodied, I am a butch lesbian, a transgender lesbian—referring to me as "she/her" is appropriate, particularly in a non-trans setting in which referring to me as "he" would appear to resolve the social contradiction between my birth sex and gender expression and render my transgender expression invisible. I like the gender neutral pronoun "ze/hir" because it makes it impossible to hold on to gender/sex/sexuality assumptions about a person you're about to meet or you've just met. And in an all trans setting, referring to me as "he/him" honors my gender expression in the same way that referring to my sister drag queens as "she/her" does.

[girldragongizzard]

@fukurouonthesea, you are so cool. Thank you for providing questions I can answer, in case other people are confused, too.

Also: hi! How was your day?

Unfortunately, it's been rough. Our physical health has been really crummy, lately. But, despite that, I'm already writing the sequel to this book, and having a lot of fun doing it. So, it's also been good.

What does she mean with the clothes telegraphing? Like, Chapman can do things, so people who know that might be suspicious of someone dressed like Chapman?

"Telegraphing" in this use is probably jargon I picked up from studying a tiny bit of martial arts, and it is probably an odd use of the word.

It means "revealing", "telling", or "betraying". A telegraphed move in a fight is one that the opponent can predict by your body language and stance, like, "Oh, you're stepping like that, so you're going to do an uppercut."

In this case, the colors of the clothes are nearly identical to the colors of my scales. So, anyone who knows I'm walking about in a disguise, but who hasn't seen the disguise yet, will probably be able to pick me out in a crowded room because I'm dressed in clothes with the same colors.

That was the worry.

It turns out it was a frivolous worry, because no one caught me while wearing the dress.

What's proso - the thingy?

Prosopagnosia is also called face blindness. I try not to call it face blindness, though, because some blind people have objected to that term and I want to respect that.

I often can't recognize people by their faces. It doesn't come up in the story too much, because I'm mostly interacting with people I know well, who dress distinctively, in contexts I'm used to seeing them in.

But you'll note that when I interact or encounter strangers, I don't really describe their faces ever, and rarely identify them. And it's because I have trouble with that, even as a dragon.

They couldn't study a dragon before metamorphosis? Cause they were in disguise even for the magic? But they knew and were thinking about it? That's why she was so shocked! But also what is this society. They sound huge.

I think I'm just going to respond to this with a sly smile, because you're picking up on the mysteries perfectly. These questions will be answered in later chapters and books! And I want you to be thinking about them and wondering!

(I'm theorizing because you said these observations helped and cause it's fun, but tell me if I should start cutting down again please.)

As an author, I love it, and you never, ever need to feel self conscious about doing it!

Yeah. Again the. She doesn't have proper masking instincts just like. Enough neuron / synapse overlaps to make it work?

Chapman thinks it's because their spell isn't complete. I think it's also because of my dysphoria and dissociation. I won't let myself remember how to use a larynx, because it feels bad.

Similarly, I've forgotten how to move like a human. My head movements are still very much like I do when I'm a full dragon.

But, and I should probably explain this more clearly in the book, Chapman says that the reason I can walk is because sie included feminine walking reflexes in the spell. It wasn't designed specifically for dragons.

That's clarified a little more in a later chapter, but not explicitly. I should fix that.

Eeeeee interview is exciting. So like a text to speech? If she's got a keyboard now. Or still like picture aac?

So, I should probably clarify this in the story, too.

My tablet's AAC app has both picture guided communication and text to speech, and can switch between the two fluidly. And I've been using it's text fuctions, including predictive text, more and more heavily, because I don't really need the pictures. It's faster for me to go right to the words.

The laptop, using a different OS, is set up with a different program that's only text to speech. And I have to type out the words completely, but it's easier for me to do that with the keyboard and human sized fingers. But I've lost my touch typing ability because I'm dissociating from my human skills, or something like that.

What's a touch typist?

A touch typist is someone with the skill to put their fingers on the home row of the keyboard and then to type using all of their fingers without looking at the keyboard.

I now do "hunt and peck" instead, where I look at the keyboard and only use my index fingers, with all my other fingers curled up. It's still reasonably fast for me, though.

That… I. What. Ok I guess authorities being against unionizing kinda makes sense. But. Do they want complete chaos among their dragons? What are they thinking?

The exact reasoning and scheming is going to be revealed in the sequels. But, the authorities are not unified on this. The City Council is divided, and the police are acting of their own accord, cooperating with someone else who has some kind of agenda. So there's already chaos.

Aw that soul being free again sounds so so nice. You are good at describing like dysphoria and stuff in not just what it's like but in images and how everything feels with that.

Thank you!

Brain is confused trying to imagine all the anatomy words for how she looks but it's probably very helpful usually.

So, the rest of my system, the Inmara, are really good at using Blender, and we're talking about creating a 3D model of me and setting up a series of boudoir shots. Maybe make it kind of like a silly pinup calendar. That will do a pretty good job of showing people what I look like.

This photo here is my headmate Goreth, who stars in the End of the Tunnel, which you are also reading. I'm not all that different looking than them, but I'm smaller and my proportions are not quite the same:

I have much larger hind legs and feet, and much shorter and daintier forelegs. And I'm blue instead of green. And my tail barb is different in a way that's hard to explain. Also, my horns are straighter. And my skull shape is a little different, with my eyes more on the sides of my head, and more teeth showing.

But the arrangement of wings to legs is correct, and length of neck and tail is pretty close too.

(ugh, that rendering has some garbage going on)

Actually can she still do dragon sounds? If she's still talking (or not) like dragon? That might be interesting to have a human doing morning calls and them not finding who did it. Very risky tho.

Unfortunately, I'd need my syrinx to do that, and I don't have it while in human form. The disguise is a full physical transformation, so it alters my internal anatomy.

A syrinx is the same thing birds use to talk, and it's located right between their lungs. So it's a completely different mechanism for making noise than what humans have.

Again, thank you so much for your thorough feedback and questions. I do really appreciate it so much!

Love,

Meg

Chapter 16: Finding my voice

The clothes are obviously Chapman’s, and I’m made to fit them.

The central piece of the ensemble is a TARDIS dress. Probably because it’s blue.

There’s also a pair of sunset orange ballet flats with orange supportive insoles in them. A pair of gloves, a purse, and a pair of sunglasses, all of the same color.

The purse is bigger, and in better shape, and with a longer strap, than the purse I’ve been using. So I happily transfer everything over to that. And that’s really super easy with my new sofa-primate hands.

There’s a simple makeup kit in the purse, including a mirror, that I’m entirely too afraid to use.

I’ll catch a glimpse of myself in a window or a bathroom mirror eventually, but I don’t need that now, and I don’t know a thing about makeup. A lot of women locally don’t wear much of it, if any at all, anyway. I’ll blend in just fine without it.

Except that I’m wearing these clothes, and they are telegraphing who I am to anybody who might suspect I’m wearing a pendant that can do this in the first place.

There are panties that are the same blue as the dress.

No bra. The dress has a shelf bra, and what I’ve got on my chest probably doesn’t even need that. I’ve still got them, though. Definitely bigger than I’ve ever had before.

A lot of women around here don’t wear bras either. So, again, not a huge deal. And one less thing to delay my exit from the parking garage.

When I’m all dressed, the pendant hangs all the way down to the bottom of my sternum, under my dress, completely hidden by it and its high neckline.

In a pinch, though, I can still grab it with both hands and haul it right over my head and out of my dress. But if I do that, the dress won’t survive. Nor will the shoes or gloves. Or panties.

There are a lot of reasons I don’t like this, now that I’m doing it, and I want to take the pendant off now. However, that would shunt me over to escape plan B, and that might result in more of last night’s kind of bologna, actually.

But I look like I’m going to a science fiction convention.

—

As I stick my nose out through the crack in the door of the stairwell, I smell, hear, and see a police car roll by and head for the ramp up. They obviously didn’t see me even crack the door, but I let myself be convinced that my disguise is already working, and lick my lips before opening the door more fully.

Another police car swerves and pulls to a halt in front of me as I step out of the door, and I make startled eye contact with the driver.

He pulls his microphone from his dash and puts it to his mouth, to say, amplified and way too loud, echoing throughout the complex, “Ma’am. Please vacate the premises immediately for your safety. There is a dangerous reptile wandering the parking garage.

I still don’t see animal control anywhere.

I nod, and wave, and stumble out, around and past the car to the sidewalk.

I hope they don’t hurt that poor lizard.

Fortunately, I happen to know that she’s making a cunning getaway. But, they might yet track her down, I suppose.

What if they have a wizard on their staff?

—

The door of the coffee shop opens, setting off the chime to let everyone know that the first customer of the day has entered.

Well, no. Chapman and Rhoda are already there, in the back of the main room, waiting for me.

Jill and Cerce, who open on Saturdays, have been told what to expect, but Cerce gawks from behind the counter as Jill steps out to get a good look at me and then at Chapman and back again.

I understand we don’t look exactly alike, though I couldn’t tell from memory when I had taken a peek at myself in a shop window. But, it does look like our bodies were stamped out of the same base mold.

There are some differences.

My boobs are bigger.

My hair is dark brown and not cut in a side shave, and it falls to my shoulders. It has a slight wave to it.

Chapman had said sie had based my facial features on hir favorite autistic comedian from Australia, mixing them with hir own. And the result is that we could be siblings, cousins, or painfully gay partners, depending on if the beholder has prosopagnosia like me or not. And I’m honestly fine with any of those assumptions. I feel like I’d have fun playing each of them up. If I could focus on socializing as if I’m human.

Jill stops in front of me and asks, “Meghan. You look stunning. And stunned. Are you all right?”

I open my mouth and I squeak.

Jill blinks.

See, there’s a bit of a problem.

I hold up a finger. Straight up. It surprises me and I look at it in wonder for a second, then I glance at Jill, and then Cerce. And then I reach into my new purse with both hands and pull out my enchanted tablet.

I almost go to put it on the ground in front of me, but stop myself from bending over more than a couple degrees and make a coughing noise. Then I rub my nose and straighten up and deliberately hold the tablet in front of me.

At which point I reach with one of my hands and turn it on.

Holding it with one hand directly in front of my face at half an arm’s length out, I press on the screen with the knuckle of my other hand.

This feels so freaking awkward and weird.

But soon the AAC app is open and I can talk again. So I say, in my own now familiar voice, that of the tablet, “Can’t talk.”

“What? I don’t understand!” Jill exclaims. Then looks questioningly at Chapman.

Cerce utters, “Oh.”

And Chapman nods at her and then says, “She has a larynx now, Jill. Not only does she not know how to use it, but I imagine it feels really weird when she tries.”

I nod vigorously.

“But didn’t she have one before?” Jill asks.

“I don’t know,” Chapman says. “I never got to study a dragon before the metamorphosis. No one did. We didn’t know who they were. But if I had a guess, I’d say she did, but she lost all memory of how to use it when that old disguise was discarded.”

Jill half points at me and asks, “And how did you say she got this way again?”

“I very pointedly didn’t,” Chapman replies. “And I won’t.”

Jill squints at me and examines me further and says, “I do feel like I recognize her, even though she’s never looked like this. Just like the first time she changed. Will all the other dragons be able to do this?”

“Probably not. Or, if so, one at a time.”

“So weird. And so cool, and,” she looks at me in the face. “Are you really OK with this?”

I shake my head, making sure that she and Cerce and Rhoda and Chapman see me do so. Then I use my tablet to say, “Have to.”

“OK. OK.” She nervously smiles at Chapman, then back at me. “Well, you look good.”

—

There’s a full length mirror in the back room, where they’re going to eventually set up my computer, and I’m really annoyed that I’m using it to look at this body and not my own.

I could take off all my clothes again and then the pendant, and get to see, but that would be a lot of trouble. I’ll get to see eventually.

And, even though it’s a full length mirror, it’s not really wide enough to give me a full third person view of my wingspan. When I have one.

It’s just fine for a human, of course.

I’m.

I’m a woman.

Only I’m not.

This is how I know that I’m not.

Oh, I am definitely female. I am so supposed to be female. I am almost laser focused now on the idea of laying eggs in the spring.

I might be in the need to look for a suitable egg laying lair, actually. It’s a whole half a year away, but now I’m thinking of that pretty solidly.

But anyway, female dragons are not typically women, and this is definitely not me.

Kind of like before my first metamorphosis, I feel like I’m seeing a completely different person in the mirror. Like, as if it’s literally not a mirror but a window, with another person on the other side. My brain will absolutely not let me see it as a mirror. Even as that person mimics my movements and expressions.

But the person I see is cute!

And unlike before, she looks like someone I’d like to at least be very good friends with.

I sure wouldn’t mind looking like her if I absolutely had to. At least humans would treat me almost right if they saw her when looking at me.

Which, for the time being, they will. Which is a startling revelation to keep having. It never stops being jarring.

I do find it a little weird that I can walk just fine, but I can’t talk. It feels like a continuity oversight in a science fiction show. Or a plot hole. But I speculate it might have something to do with dissociation, and what specifically triggers my dysphoria and what doesn’t. Maybe.

It is magic. And very particular, literal magic at that, from Chapman’s explanation. Like programming the universe itself. So, it might just be that I’m missing the code for speech but not for walking. Though, why that would be the case, I’m just not sure. It makes less sense to me than my dissociation explanation.

I tilt my head to the side and watch as the other person does it too. They do remind me a lot of Chapman when sie isn’t around.

I again ask myself this question, because the topic just happens to be on my brain regarding eggs and just how human I might be at the moment. Would I have sex with this person if I could?

Maybe?

If I appear to be human, and she is human, maybe I could. Socially. Accept that.

Physically? Can I imagine enjoying the physical sensation of that?

Honestly, I just can’t even bring to mind memories of physical human contact, let alone daydreams of it.

Why do I ask myself this?

Because humans are constantly talking about it. Or, a lot of them are. Every relationship in every story seems to center around eventually having sex. And it’s the one way they ask whether they’re compatible with each other. And I guess it’s one of those habits I’ve learned from them.

Again, I don’t know what happens in the spring, which I’m guessing is mating season, based on thoughts I keep having.

I turn my head away from the mirror.

I’m supposed to be using this thing to practice acting and moving like a human woman. And I’m failing even at moving like a human, actually. I can tell that much.

I awkwardly move to open the door and walk through the short dark hallway out into the cafe. There are some other customers there now, and Chapman comes to me and indicates we should head back into the back room again.

I was going to ask hir to help me, but apparently I don’t have to.

Rhoda moves to come back, too, but Chapman stops here and says, “Just a moment, OK?”

And then, once we’re back there, Chapman closes the door and stands in front of it.

“Maybe we don’t need you to practice being human today. Just keep the disguise on until we’re done,” sie says. “It’ll be more convincing if you’re draconically weird for the interview. Blending in with people will be needed later, maybe, when you want to use it.”

Then we talk about a few other things before inviting Rhoda in to plan the next phase.

—

It’s the end of the summer and this weird man is wearing black jeans and a black leather biker’s jacket. His black hair is the kind of mess they strove for in old photos of geniuses, but his mutton chops belong at the Subdued Stringband Jamboree. He’s wearing cowboy boots and holding a small notepad and a pen, his right leg propped up on his left as he sits and listens to me explain things using his laptop with the AAC program installed on it.

I find the keyboard is reasonably easy to use, once I get used to using my fingertips to hunt and peck.

I used to be a touch typist, but I think this way now for some reason. But I’m still getting full sentences out in reasonable time.

He’s nodding as I talk.

Occasionally, he asks a question.

What I find absolutely hilarious is that his name, his literal given name, is Seagull. Seagull Phil. It sounds like a nickname, but it isn’t.

The coincidence of that made my stomach growl at the weirdest moment in our introductions.

He works for the weekly paper, and we’re having this interview in the back room of the shop.

He has a voice like a 1930s transatlantic radio announcer. Soft, gentle, and extremely articulate. It does not fit his physical image in the slightest. He’s six foot three, too.

The whole affect is disarming and makes me feel at ease despite my mounting and raging dysphoria. I almost forget that I don’t look like myself.

Rhoda met him at the Council meeting, and befriended him when it was adjourned abruptly to his great dismay. She’d told him that he could interview a dragon.

I’m keeping my human disguise for this so that I can type easier, really.

When we’re done, I’ve promised to shed it so that he can verify that I’m the Meg that everyone is talking about.

What I’ve learned is that apparently I’ve been targeted by the authorities because I’ve been leading the morning roll calls, and someone thinks that that will break up the grip the rest of the dragons have on the city. But also, the property management of my building had called the police for my forceful eviction from the premises (which they had momentarily achieved). They have no idea I’m trespassing.

I’m telling Seagull as much of my story as I can manage in the time we have.

Between this interview and the letters that Astraia and I sent to City and County Councils, there may be some hope for a better resolution, Seagull says.

I want to believe him.

—

Now I see myself in that full length mirror.

I still wish it was a mirror in a dance hall, or something like that. But between it and my ability to twist and crane my neck to look at my back and belly, or to look at the mirror from any angle, I get a really good look at myself.

I’m alone again in the back room to do this.

And I’m relaxed in ways that I didn’t think even mattered.

It’s like my very cells have unclenched.

It’s that energized looseness and lethargy you might feel after the best massage, if your soul had been massaged.

So, when I described my torso and limbs as being similar in scale to a human’s, that didn’t really do any justice to their form or function, or actual shape. Just a vague sense of scale that explains why and how I can enter buildings with little trouble.

I’ve only seen morphology like this in recent speculative illustrations of dinosaurs, with the major addition of a third set of limbs. My wings.

Unlike how dinosaurs are thought to have been, based on their skeletal structures, I believe I am about as flexible as a monitor lizard.

But my back is high and arched, and my chest does have a keel like a bird’s, because wing muscles demand that. This makes my torso tall, like a dogs, and gives me a barrel chest like a swan’s. Also, my neck starts at the base by going up and curving gracefully to my head, which can be described as before. But now I’m thinking of it as kind of a cross between a goat and caiman in shape, nearly straight horns swept back. And my tail tends to be held upright and straight out for balance. I can’t curl it terribly tightly with muscles alone, but it’s more flexible than it looks when I move.

My wings are more forward than my forelimbs. Which actually makes my wings my forelimbs. My arms, I guess, are set further back out of the way of my flight muscles. But they’re still partially linked, and I do flex them a little in sync with my wings when I’m flapping hard.

If I stretch out, from tip of nose to tip of tail, I might be ten or eleven feet long.

I know I don’t weigh nearly as much as I did when I presented as a 5’10” human man that was 280 lbs.

On the other hand, I think I may have notably grown in length and girth in the last week. I have no measurements to confirm it, but I just feel like it has happened.

My left shoulder still has that nasty gash in it, which isn’t there when I’m in human disguise.

But even with that gash, every inch of this body, as I look at it, every scale, every tiny curve, every bump and nobble, every movement of it, everything is mine. Mine in the same way that this building is mine, and this coffee shop. The way that my friends are mine. And the city itself. The way that my soul is mine.

Not the mine of ownership or domain. The mine of association and identity.

The mine by which I derive my sense of being and purpose and place. Contentment. Joy. Pride.

It can be injured and made weaker, but even then that’s mine, too.

It’s the kind of mine I can mine for strength.

Inspired by this feeling, I spend a little time learning a few more simple, one syllable words, so I can say them faster when I need to.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Overnight Observation

A Horror Septic Story

(Why do all these stories end up so long? Seriously, they’re always my longest. Anyway, I wanted to return to Stacy and the boys and see what they’re up to. After all, they still have to meet a couple of our local horror shows ;) Remember to check the tags for any warnings, this one has some stuff that’s...sort of gorey? I don’t think it’s too intense but just to be sure, read with caution.)

—————

The world beyond the train windows was dark. It had been nothing but fields for a good while, but now buildings were starting to dot the landscape again, quickly gathering together. Soon they would be in the suburbs, then in a city. Meanwhile, the inside of the train was brightly lit, artificial white light chasing away all the shadows. There were passengers, not enough to cause a crowd but still enough to fill the train. Among these passengers were a young mom wearing a backpack and her two children, all looking tired and travel-worn.

Stacy stared out at the gathering buildings. Occasionally she managed to glimpse a street sign, but couldn’t read the language. Fighting back a yawn, she looked over at Mathew and Larkin, sitting in the seat across from her. Mathew had his head pressed against the window, eyes fixed on the outside. Larkin was leaning on his shoulder, fast asleep. They’d been travelling for a while now. Where were they going? She didn’t exactly know.

There was a slight whooshing sound as the door between train cars slid open. Stacy glanced towards it, just in time for the man who’d just entered to sit down on the seat next to her. Tensing slightly, she turned away. Maybe they shouldn’t have chosen the seats closest to the car door.

“Verzeihung, Fräulein,” the man said. “Können Sie mir sagen, was die nächste Station ist?”

Stacy glanced over at him. There was nothing strange about him at first glance. He wore a dark gray suit and carried a briefcase, his dark hair slicked back and his face unshaven. Surely anyone else wouldn’t have been suspicious. But after everything, she wasn’t about to let her guard down.

“Fräulein? Hast du mich gehört?” The man asked.

Maybe he’d go away if she answered. Stacy took out her phone and opened up the new app she’d downloaded, an English-German dictionary. She’d been trying to learn the language, but wasn’t making a lot of progress. At most, she could identify question words and things like occupations and body parts. You know, things they’d teach in a high school elective. But she plugged in what she thought she heard the man ask.

“Parlez-vous français?” The man continued. “¿O quizás hablas español? O italiano? Or English?”

“English, yes,” Stacy said quietly.

“Ah, English. So sorry.” The man smiled charmingly. “I was wondering if you knew the next stop for the train.”

“Um...it’s a city called Achmatze,” Stacy said slowly.

“Ah, perfect, thank you.” The man nodded. “You are American?”

“Yes.”

The man paused, as if waiting for a more in-depth response. “Well...what has brought you here? A vacation, perhaps? With your children?”

“Yes.”

He frowned. “So...are you passing through or stopping here?”

“Through.”

The man stared at her. She stared back. His eyes...was it just her being paranoid, or were they an odd color? She was suddenly very aware of the holster and handgun hidden beneath her jacket. Eventually, the man turned away. “You are a very special young lady,” he said under his breath.

Stacy didn’t respond, turning her attention back out the window. They were now solidly surrounded by buildings, and the train had slowed down considerably.

A few minutes later, it slowed to a stop, pulling into a station. The intercom announced this stop as the city of Achmatze. The man in the gray suit stood up and disappeared through the doors of the train car. Once he was gone, Stacy leaned over and began shaking Larkin. “Hey, Lark. Wake up, pumpkin.”

“Hmmm whha?” Larkin blinked, and stretched. “Wha’s it, Mom?”

“We’re going to get off here,” Stacy said gently.

Mathew finally broke contact with the window, looking over at Stacy. “I thought you told that guy we were passing through.”

“Well, I don’t think we should advertise where we’re really going, you know?” Internally, Stacy sighed. She wished that this wasn’t necessary, but she couldn’t help it. There was this feeling...this lingering voice told her to keep moving. Of course, that voice sounded a bit like John’s. Though they’d ended up leaving him behind, she knew how he would react in this situation. “So let’s go.”

They stepped out into the train station, a futuristic building with glass and steel going in an arch overhead as if they were inside a glass-and-steel tube. It was pretty empty, except for the departing passengers. Stacy glanced around, and saw the man in the gray suit had gotten off here, too. She stiffened, then grabbed Mathew and Larkin by the hands and steered them quickly out of the building.

Strangely, it looked more busy outside than inside. Stacy had to stop for a moment to take in the line of cars, each with one or more person standing outside and holding a sign, calling out. But the signs didn’t have names on them like she’d always pictured a rental car would have. These looked like business names, and the shouts of the people reminded her of someone trying to sell something. That was...odd. But maybe it was a cultural thing. “C’mon, guys,” she said, starting down the street. They had to find a place to stay.

Of course, once the people outside the cars saw her, the shouting only increased. It didn’t do any good, of course, since she didn’t know any of the words. Shaking her head, she continued on.

“Excuse me, miss! Miss! Are you new in town? Do you need a bed in the night?”

Stacy stopped, recognizing English. The shouter of this appeared to be a teenager, dark-haired and wearing glasses, standing outside a blue car and holding a sign reading “Süße Träume Hotel.” The moment he noticed he’d caught her attention, he doubled down. “Yes, you Miss! With the two children? We have good prices!”

“Um...so, are all these businesses for hotels?” Stacy asked.

“Yes, yes,” the teenager said. “We all offer deals to those new in town here. Ours is the first night free!”

Stacy hesitated. That...was tempting. Her savings were quickly running out, and it was clear the boys really needed a place to sleep quickly. “What do you two think?” she asked, looking at Mathew and Larkin.

“He’s nice,” Larkin mumbled, swaying on his feet.

“I guess it’s fine,” Mathew said reluctantly. “This is a bit weird, though.”

“It might just be a thing here,” Stacy said. She looked back at the teenager. “Alright, we’ll take that offer.”

“Good! Good good.” He nodded excitedly, then reached over to open the car door. “We will take you there soon! After we see if there is anyone else who wants this.”

“Mooom,” Mathew said in a low voice. “Isn’t this kind of sketchy?”

Stacy hesitated. “Well, if it was, why would there be so many people doing it, and nobody saying anything?” She squeezed Mathew’s hand. “Besides, we can handle anything they throw at us.”

“Well...okay,” Mathew took a deep breath. “Alright.”

Stacy gave him an encouraging smile, then climbed into the car.

It was actually very nice inside. The interior was clean, with a plastic window dividing the back from the driver’s area. In the front was an older lady, who looked back through the plastic and waved cheerfully. Stacy relaxed just a bit. This didn’t feel strange. Or at least, she didn’t get the same off feeling that the man in the gray suit had given her on the train.

A few minutes later, they were joined by a pair of younger women, talking to each other in what sounded like French, and then the teenage boy climbed into the passenger seat. The older woman started the car, and they drove off.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Süße Träume Hotel was also a nice-looking place. It was a building, about six or seven stories tall, surrounded by other similar buildings some ways into the city. The lobby was professional, with its color scheme being mostly blue. Once the car dropped off its passengers the teenage boy ran inside and got behind the front desk, shouting something that caused a teenage girl to appear from a back room. The girl quickly checked in the young women, then smiled at Stacy at the boys, gesturing for them to come talk to her at the desk.

Stacy paused, taking a moment to glance around the hotel lobby again. It really seemed perfectly normal, but she couldn’t fully trust anything anymore. Still, she stepped forward to the desk. After some fumbling with languages, they got checked in, and immediately headed to a room on the fourth floor.

And the hotel room was nice, too. Two beds with tidy sheets, a dresser with a television on top, and a clean bedroom. Stacy sighed and took off her backpack, unzipping it and dumping the contents on the nearest bed: a brush, toothpaste and toothbrushes, deodorant, a spare phone charger, and as many spare clothes as could fit in the remaining space, including pyjamas. “Alright, let’s get settled in,” she said, forcing a cheerful note into her voice.

Mathew and Larkin fell asleep quickly, but she stayed up for a while longer, staring around the hotel room and waiting for something to appear.

* * * * * * * * * *

The hotel served complimentary breakfast until nine o’clock, so Stacy and the boys woke up at eight and went down to the lobby to get food. Breakfast wasn’t anything extraordinary and they finished quickly. But the way back was different.

The two young women from last night were waiting at the elevator when Stacy and the boys arrived. One of them, short and blonde, waved at Stacy upon seeing her approach. “Hallo,” she said. “Er...Sprechen Sie Franzo—F-Franzö...sisch?”

Stacy blinked. “Um, I’m sorry, but—”

“Oh, English, much better!” The other woman said, taller and redheaded. “You were the family at the train last night?” Her French accent was thick, but not unrecognizable.

“Oh, um, yes.”

“Then we have a question to ask you. Those cars outside the station...is that normal?”

“Well...not where I’m from,” Stacy said. “And we’ve never been in this country before, so I wouldn’t know.”

“I see.” The taller woman looked at her friend and translated Stacy’s words into French. 

At that moment, the elevator arrived. All of them hurried inside, with Stacy and the boys squishing towards the back. Larkin pressed the button for the fourth floor, giving Mathew a smug look as he did so, while the shorter woman pressed the one for the first. Once the elevator started moving, the taller woman started talking again. “It just seemed a bit odd, to have them all lined up. And last night, did the, er...the woman at the desk downstairs tell you to not go outside at night?”

“She...she did.” That had been weird. Weird enough to take note of.

“Very odd,” the taller woman said. “What did you think of that?”

Stacy considered this question. After a long while, she replied, “I think we should listen to the locals.”

The taller woman giggled, making her friend giggle in turn. The elevator stopped at the first floor, and the two women headed out. “Thank you, madam,” the taller one said as they left.

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome.” Stacy nodded.

“Hey Mom?” Mathew leaned closer to Stacy, perhaps unconsciously. “Do you think that...things are weird here because of...not normal reasons?”

Stacy frowned. Her instinct was to reassure him, but in this situation, perhaps honesty would be best. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “But we’ll be on our way soon.”

* * * * * * * * * *

They couldn’t spend all their time in the hotel room. At the very least, they had to go out to get food. So that day, Stacy, Mathew, and Larkin went out to explore the city of Achmatze. She considered leaving them alone in the room, but reconsidered. If something happened to them while she wasn’t there...

The city was normal enough. It was the biggest city any of them had been to in a while, so it took some getting used to, but it wasn’t too big. Stacy found a couple restaurants, a grocery store, and several shops all within walking distance on her phone’s GPS. There were lots of tall buildings, but not that many skyscrapers, which Stacy remembered as being described as having about fifteen stories or more. The architecture leaned towards older styles, and there were a few buses driving around that Stacy realized were full of visitors. Perhaps this place was culturally important, somehow. But then...that made the warning about going out at night even stranger. Wouldn’t a city with tourists want to have a rich nightlife?

Things got even stranger when they had to stop for lunch. Mathew and Larkin had been complaining about being hungry and needing a break for a while, so Stacy stopped by the nearest restaurant, some local place. Upon entering, they were immediately seated by a waiter, who thankfully spoke English.

“You are visitors, yes?” The waiter asked.

“Well, yes. I suppose it’s obvious.” Stacy tried to laugh a little at that comment.

“Very good. We sell many good local foods. Though I must warn you, it is dangerous to go out into the city alone at night.”

“Oh.” Stacy was taken aback for a moment. This was one of the first things this waiter told them. Why? Was it that important? “Well, we’ll keep that in mind, thank you.”

After having lunch, they returned to the hotel, deciding to order room service for dinner. It was getting hot in the afternoon, the heat probably helped along by the city’s dark asphalt streets. Once they returned, they were greeted by a different receptionist, an older man. “Hallo, willkommen!”

“Hello.” Stacy waved amicably.

“Ah, I see. Coming in from a day out? Very good. But be careful not to stay out after dark, especially alone.”

“Oh. Yeah, uh, we’ve been told.” This was the third warning. And Stacy knew what they said about third times and charms.

The sun lingered in the sky, shining into their window for a while. Larkin and Mathew set up Netflix on Mathew’s phone, watching cartoons together. And Stacy searched up train times on her own phone. Unfortunately, there appeared to be a limited number of train tickets available for purchase, with the soonest being tomorrow at 7:00pm.

Stacy frowned. The sun would be down at that point, wouldn’t it? Didn’t that go against the warnings? She glanced back over at Mathew and Larkin, laying on the bed next to each other, the phone propped up with a couple pillows. Larkin’s head was on top of Mathew’s shoulder, but he clearly didn’t mind.

No, it would be better to get out of this town sooner. She just knew it. Besides, the sun would have barely set at that point. Maybe it wouldn’t count. And they’d hurry.

She bought the tickets.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, Stacy sat at a table in the hotel’s complimentary dining room, staring down blankly at the cinnamon roll she’d grabbed from the breakfast buffet. Mathew and Larkin were still there, deciding what to get that morning. They were well within eyeshot, so she wasn’t worried. Or at least, not too worried. The dining room was fairly empty, mostly dotted with hotel employees and other guests in pyjamas—

“Well hallo again! I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Stacy stiffened, and looked up. It was the man from the train. The man in the dark gray suit. Somehow, he’d walked right up to her without her noticing. Immediately, she stiffened, not feeling as tired as she’d been just a second ago. “H...hello,” she said.

The man bowed his head to her for a moment, then looked up again with a friendly smile. “I thought you said you were passing through this city.”

“Things come up,” she said vaguely, glancing back in the boys’ direction. “I didn’t know you would be here, either,” she mumbled.

“Ah, well, this was always my destination,” the man said. “I came here for business.”

“Business?” Stacy glanced back towards him. Wait...were his eyes yellow, or was it just the lighting in here?”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I came on behalf of my...company. We have been hoping to establish a hold in this city, but our competition is being very stubborn. Understandable, it’s been here for a while, but we are so much stronger, and a much better suit for this area. I hope to conclude business here.”

“Right.”

At that moment, Mathew and Larkin walked back to the table, plates full of various breakfast foods. “Hi Mom,” Mathew said, eyes immediately darting to the man. “Uh...who are you?”

The man in the gray suit didn’t answer at first, staring at Larkin. And Larkin stared back, eyes wide, gaping. “It’s not important,” the man finally said, taking a step back. He nodded in Stacy’s direction. “You have a very...perceptive son. My congratulations.” And with nothing else to say, he turned and walked away. Stacy turned to watch as he left the dining room, then leaned in her chair until she got the exact right angle to see him leave the hotel through one of the side doors.

“Was that...Mom, was that...?” Mathew seemed to have caught on, and looked a bit pale.

“I’m not sure, Mat,” Stacy said. “Larkin, what did you think about that man?”

Larkin was much more relaxed now that the man was gone, sitting down on the nearest chair and carefully opening his carton of milk. “I think...he was a vampire,” Larkin said. “O-or maybe a werewolf.” He paused, looking up at Stacy. “Is he going to follow us?” His voice suddenly dropped, turning fearful.

“No, I don’t think so,” Stacy said. She didn’t think this man was connected to the thing in the house that had started this all. Though he was the first thing she saw that was...strange like this, but not related to that first incident.

“Alright.” Larkin nodded, relieved, and started eating.

Mathew slowly sat down as well. Stacy hadn’t told him what Roisin, the old woman back in Ireland, told her about Larkin. How he could see through the disguises these things put up. But Mathew was smart enough to realize his little brother knew more about what was going on than he appeared to.

“So.” Stacy said. “We’re ready to leave today?” It was now clearer than ever that they needed to leave this city.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Hey Mom?”

Stacy looked up from her phone. Mathew was standing next to the bed where she was laying, staring at her. “Yeah, pumpkin?”

“What time’s the train again?” he asked.

“It’s at seven.”

“Oh. Uh, it’s getting dark.” Mathew’s eyes darted towards the window. It was already twilight blue outside. “Hasn’t everyone been saying not to go out at night?”

“Well...yes,” Stacy said slowly.

“Why don’t we just go now?” Mathew suggested. “We can get there early and wait for the train in the station.”

Stacy blinked. “Oh my god...” How had that not occurred to her? “That’s a great idea, Mat.” She sat up straight, putting her phone away. “We’re all packed already?”

“Yeah, Mom.” Mathew pointed at the backpack, sitting on the other bed where Larkin was using it as a pillow.

“Huh? So we’re leaving now?” Larkin asked.

“Yes, we’ll wait a little at the train stop,” Stacy explained, waiting for Larkin to sit up before she grabbed the backpack. “Are you ready now, Lark?”

“Mm-hmm.” Larkin nodded and hopped off the bed. “Let’s go.”

They headed down to the ground floor, quickly leaving the elevator and entering the lobby. Stacy held onto the boys’ hands tightly as they walked towards the front door.

“Ah! Madam!”

Stacy stiffened, then turned to see the two young women from the day before waving in her direction. Once she noticed them, the taller one grabbed the shorter one’s hand and they ran up to her. “Madam, we wondered if we could ask a favor of you,” the taller one said.

“What kind of favor?” Stacy asked.

“We are going to the train station, could you walk us there?” The taller one smiled, but she looked a little nervous. “It is getting close to night.”

“Oh. Well, we were going there, too, as a matter of fact,” Stacy said. “Sure, we can walk together.”

The woman’s face lit up. “Thank you!” She turned to her friend and spoke rapidly in French, who responded even faster, then she turned back. “We should introduce ourselves. I am Desiree, and this is my friend Soleil.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Stacy, and these are my kids, Mathew and Larkin.”

“Hi!” Larkin waved cheerfully, but Mathew stayed quiet.

“Charmed,” Desiree said. “Now, shall we?”

With the extra two people boosting the numbers of the group, Stacy felt a bit more confident. Still, it was some way to the train station, so they all hurried through the streets. Through the tall buildings, the sun was visibly setting, causing lines of orange and pink clouds in the dark blue sky.

Strangely, they identified the train station by the line of cars. It seemed the queue from the day before wasn’t just a one-time thing. The line wasn’t as long as it had been, but there were still quite a lot of people standing outside cars with their signs. Yet, other than those people, there was no one around. Nobody was walking in and out of the train station building as would be expected. Then again, when they’d left the station upon arriving in Achmatze, it still hadn’t been that busy. Perhaps this wasn’t that popular a destination? But no, that wouldn’t explain the tourist buses that had been driving around.

Desiree and Soliel chattered to each other as the group climbed the steps to the station. Mathew and Larkin were silent, and Larkin in particular stared at the tall steel-and-glass station with wide eyes. The doors were closed, which was...odd. They hadn’t been closed the day before. Stacy reached for the door, and upon finding it unlocked, pulled it open, slowly, hesitantly, and peeked inside—

The smell hit her first, but the shocking sight wasn’t too far behind. Stacy could only gape at the scene spread out in the middle of the train station floor. The moment she regained her senses, she screamed, and whirled around to push Mathew and Larkin out of the way.

“What is it?” Desiree asked.

Soliel peeked through the doors, and immediately paled. “Est-ce un—un corps?!”

“Someone call the police!” Stacy yelled.

Desiree, now white as a sheet as well, nodded, and took out her phone.

“Mom? Is everything okay?” Mathew asked, staring up at Stacy with a look of concern.

Stacy couldn’t respond. What was she supposed to say? That sight...the floor was coated in red, but that was the least of it. The body was at the center of a circle of thick blood, and it had been...split open, was the only way Stacy could think to describe it. From chest to stomach, there was a large slit, with everything that was supposed to be inside spilling out onto the floor. She wished to forget it, but the sight was seared into her mind.

Larkin, curious, pushed past Stacy to try and look inside. She caught on just in time, and pulled him back. “Don—don’t look!” she said. “You shouldn’t see something like that!”

“Wh...” Larkin looked dazed, shocked. Upon seeing that expression, Stacy knew he’d caught a glimpse of it.

“Lark? Are you okay?” she said in a gentle voice. “Can you hear me?”

“I...” Larkin nodded slowly. “...Mom. Did...did someone kill that vampire guy?”

“That—” Stacy cut herself off, eyes widening in realization. Yes, she’d been too shocked to take it in at the time, but looking back on it now...that was the body of the man in the gray suit.

The police appeared soon after the sun went fully behind the horizon. Only two officers, arriving in a single car. As she watched them climb out, Stacy was suddenly very conscious of the holster and handgun under her jacket. Was that illegal in this country? 

One of the officers approached her and immediately started asking questions. Confused, Stacy took out her phone and tried to look up phrases on her dictionary app, but the officer switched languages as soon as she did. “What happened here, miss? Did you see anything?”

“Oh.” Stacy looked up. “Well, I—I opened the door here—thought it was weird that it was closed, but anyway—I opened it, and...there was a body there.”

“Hmm.” The officer nodded and approached the door, throwing it open. Stacy tried to say something, but those protests died down once she noticed the expression on the officer’s face. It was strangely...bored. No, just uninterested, as if she’d seen this before. “Alright, thank you,” the officer said. “Did you know the man?”

“Well, I’d seen him before, but no, not really,” Stacy explained.

The officer nodded again. She said something to her partner, who quickly slipped inside the station, then turned her attention to Desiree and Soliel. “You were here, too?”

“Yes,” Desiree said, and Soliel nodded as well. “We all walked here together.”

“Did any of you see anything unusual?”

No answer for that, but then Soliel raised her hand. “Ich habe ein...einen Mann. Gesehen. Ich habe einen Mann gesehen.”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “Wie sah er aus?”

Soliel looked a bit at a loss, then turned to Desiree and said something in French. Desiree nodded, then translated the phrase into German for the officer, who suddenly looked more concerned. The officer took out a notebook and began writing this down.

“Um...excuse me, what did she say?” Stacy asked. She could recognize “man” and “hair” and “jacket,” but not much else.

“Soliel saw a strange, suspicious man when we were walking up to the station,” Desiree explained. “A man wearing a green jacket, with brown hair and a...er...cache-oeil, un, er...eye patch! Over his face. Did you see that man? I did not.”

“No, I didn’t see anyone like that.” That description didn’t sound familiar to Stacy. She looked back at the boys, who had decided to sit down on the steps to the station. “Did either of you see a man like that?”

Mathew shook his head, and Larkin said, “No, Mom.”

“Il était là,” Soleil insisted. “Etrange d'attendre ici, juste avant que nous trouvions cela.”

While Desiree said something reassuring in French to her friend, Stacy turned her attention back to the doors of the station. She reached into her pocket and checked the time on her phone. Almost seven. The train was supposed to be arriving soon, could they just leave?

At that moment, the other police officer returned from inside the building. “Oh! Excuse me sir!” Stacy waved him down. “I was wondering something.”

The officer looked at her, confused, then pointed at his partner, who looked up in response. “Do you have a question?” she asked, as the other officer returned to their car.

“Oh. Well, yes.” Stacy nodded. “You see, we have tickets for a train arriving soon, are we allowed to leave?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But I suggest you ask the ticket attendant inside if the train will still leave at the right time. This may have caused a delay.”

“Alright. Thank you.” Stacy walked over to Mathew and Larkin, still sitting on the stairs, crouching so she can be level with them. “How are you doing, pumpkins?”

“I think we’re fine,” Mathew said.

“Lark?”

Larkin looked up. “Mm-hmm.” He still looked a bit troubled, but better than he had earlier.

“Alright.” Stacy let out a long breath. “Well, I’m going to go ask if the train will still leave at the time. Apparently there’s an attendant in the station who can help. You two sit tight, okay?” After making sure they both nodded, she stood  up. “I’ll be right back.” And she headed to the door.

For a long moment, she paused outside. What was inside...was she really ready to see that again? Well, she was going to have to, wasn’t she? Maybe she could avoid looking in the body’s direction. So, steeling herself, she pushed open the door and headed in.

She gagged on the thick copper smell in the air, then immediately looked away. Inching around the pool in the center of the floor, she headed towards the ticket booth. Well, it was more of a building in and of itself, a small room walled in with a window through which passengers could get tickets from the attendant. There was a door through which employees could get into the booth.

But strangely, upon arriving at the booth, Stacy couldn’t see anyone inside. She peered around, noticing a desk with a computer and a couple tables, but no people. Odd...maybe that was because of...?

She couldn’t help but turn around and look at the body, though she immediately winced upon seeing it. God, this was terrible. Raising her hand to cover the majority of the gore from her vision, she headed back towards the door.

Wait.

Stacy stopped in her tracks, noticing something on the floor near the puddle. She really didn’t want to get closer to it, but her curiosity overcame her, and she shuffled closer. It looked like some scribbling, but she quickly realized that it was actually writing. A phrase in blood. Stepping even closer, she leaned down to make out the words.

‘Das ist meine Stadt.’ What did that mean? ‘This is mine...’ something? Stacy furrowed her brow. That word was just on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t quite reach it.

She heard the footsteps too late.

Eyes widening, she tried to turn around, but a pair of arms grabbed her before she could. “Hey! Hel—” A hand covered her mouth. She tried to struggle, tried to see if she could reach her gun under her jacket. But then a needle of pain pierced her neck, and her vision soon faded to black.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Mom’s been in there for a while.”

Mathew looked down at Larkin, who was staring at the doors to the train station. “Yeah, I guess. But I mean, maybe the conversation is taking a while.”

Larkin didn’t respond. Then, suddenly, he stood up. “I think we should go talk to her.”

“Huh? But isn’t there a...uh...” Mathew trailed off. Was it appropriate to ask his nine-year-old brother about the dead body he’d caught a glimpse of? He really didn’t think it would be a good idea for him to see it again. “We can just wait. Here, you wanna play a game on my phone or something?”

“You have boring games.” And with that, Larkin headed towards the door.

“Hey! God, Lark, don’t!” Mathew scrambled to his feet, hurrying after Larkin but not quite reaching him before he went inside the building. He glanced back at the two police officers and the young women, all of them talking with each other, before following Larkin into the building.

Shortly after stepping inside, Mathew froze in place. That was...there was...blood...and...insides. He’d seen fake bodies in movies before, which his mom didn’t actually know he’d watched, but it was different knowing that this was not an effect. Nausea rolled in his stomach, but he swallowed it down and managed to tear his eyes away. Larkin, on the other hand, was still looking at the body. “Don’t!” Mathew lunged forward and covered Larkin’s eyes with his hand. “No no no no, don’t look at that, that—that’s—holy shit.”

“I already saw it,” Larkin said. He sounded a bit too calm about the situation. Well, then again, he could be in denial. “It’s gross.”

“It’s very very gross, yes.” Mathew nodded.

“But it’s just a dog.”

“It’s—huh?” Mathew glanced back towards the body, trying to avoid looking at any of the grosser stuff. “I...you’re right.” The body in the middle of the pool was a large gray wolf with yellow eyes. It was the size of a human, and the proportions were a bit...weird. Those eyes were a bit too big, the limbs a bit too long. But it was unmistakably an animal. “...That doesn’t make sense. They’ve all been talking about a body. Like, a human body.”

“Maybe it changed.” Larkin pushed Mathew’s hand away from his face and walked some way away, scanning the train station. “Uh...Mat, where is everyone?”

“I...don’t know.” The train station was completely empty, which was weird. Even if there weren’t passengers, there should be people who worked here, right? Actually...if there had been people here, why had none of them reported the dead body before Stacy saw it? Where were they?

“Do you think...something happened to them?” Larkin asked in a hushed voice.

Now that was a scared tone that Mathew could recognize. He walked up to Larkin and wrapped his arms around him. “No, maybe they’re just not...maybe they’re in, like, employees only rooms. Like, uh, there.” Mathew pointed towards the ticket booth. “Let’s go check that out.”

Larkin nodded, and the two of them hurried over to the booth, carefully avoiding the pool of blood. Mathew reached out and turned the handle of the booth’s door, surprised to find it open. He pulled, and...

“Wh...what. The fuck.”

The door led into a hallway. A hallway with white walls and white-tiled floors, extending for a long, long time before it split into two directions. It looked completely unlike the rest of the train station. Mathew stared into the hall, not moving. “Is this...supposed to be here?”

Larkin walked over to the ticket booth’s window, carefully peering into the room beyond. “There’s no hallway inside,” he said.

“Huh?” Mathew leaned over to look through the window as well. “Oh yeah. This door should lead into this room.” He pressed his face against the glass, trying to get the right angle to see the door from the other side of the room. It was...closed. “Tha-that doesn’t match up.”

“Mat?” Larkin pulled on his brother’s hoodie. “I don’t see Mom anywhere here. Do you think...she went down...there?”

Mathew knows the answer, but he doesn’t want to say it. “This...this is more supernatural shit.”

“Hey, bad word.”

“This isn’t the time, Lark. Let me swear.”

The two of them stood in front of the door. The hallway was undoubtedly there, extending before them like a tunnel that led deep into the unknown depths of the earth. After what felt like several minutes, but was probably only several seconds, Mathew took a deep breath. “Do you think we should go in after her?”

Larkin looked reluctant, but nodded. “Y-yeah. The grown-ups aren’t gonna see this, I think.”

“You don’t have to. You can wait out here—”

“No!” Larkin grabbed Mathew’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I-I want to come with you.”

Mathew looked at him. “Right.” He didn’t want to go in there. But...their mom was in there. She probably needed help. And Larkin was right, he had this strange feeling that if they left, the hallway would be gone by the time they came back. “Let’s uh...go.” He gripped Larkin’s hand even tighter, and together, the two of them stepped through the doorway into the halls.

The moment they passed through, the door started to close, slowly. Neither of them noticed, focused on the journey ahead. Meaning they also didn’t notice the man—a man in a green jacket, with brown hair and an eye-patch—slinking into the train station through the front door. The man stared at the body and the mess that surrounded it, completely unfazed, then looked up and saw the slowly closing door. He ran towards it, grabbing it just before it closed. Then he pushed it open and slipped inside.

The door closed behind him, and the next time it opened, the hallway would be gone.

* * * * * * * * * *

Stacy woke up slowly, head spinning and mixing the thoughts inside. Groaning, she tried to roll over, only to find herself unable to. It took a moment for that to register as a cause for alarm, but once it did, her eyes flew open.

This looked like a hospital room, but only at first glance. The white walls had dark red-brown stains on them and there were no windows to be seen. Stacy could see a curtain, the sort of which would be pulled around a patient’s bed in a hospital, nearby. It was also stained, and had a hole in it like someone had stabbed it. There was also a small metal table nearby, on which she could see her jacket, as well as her gun in its holster. She was lying on what would be a typical hospital bed, except that it lacked any blankets and was fitted with straps. Straps that were currently holding her down, across her wrists, ankles, and chest.

“Shit.” Stacy cursed under her breath, then, strangely, laughed. “Haven’t I been through enough?! Do you hear me, whatever you are? I know you’re here! The fuck do you want?!”

There was no answer, of course. Stacy looked around the room again, but it was just as barren as ever. The door looked like a normal white one, but she didn’t expect it to be unlocked.

Taking a deep breath, she decided that the first step would be getting herself untied. Then she’d grab her gun, maybe try to break down the door, and find her way out of...wherever she was. And find the kids, too. Where were they? Were they also in this place?

One way to find out. The straps were tight, but if she could just...just wriggle her way out...then everything would be fine.

 * * * * * * * * *

“This place is like a maze,” Mathew muttered.

The white walls of the corridors were all the same, save for the patterns of stains on their surfaces. They branched off at random, sometimes coming to an intersection, sometimes on jutting off the side of a main hall. There were doors, too, white in color, with some having plates on the outside with numbers or words that weren’t in English. Larkin reached out and tried one of them, jiggling the handle but being unable to open it.

“They’re all locked, Lark, don’t bother,” Mathew said.

“One might be open,” Larkin said. “But...what if Mom’s in a locked room?”

Mathew felt his heart sink, but he shook his head to get rid of the feeling. “Then we’ll bust it open. They don’t look too strong.”

They approached a corner where the hallway turned, silent except for the sound of their footsteps. And another sound, a bit distant, a sort of...wailing. Mathew tried not to think about that too much. Instead, he looked at the things clustered in the corner. Some poles, it looked like, on wheels. A few had bags hanging from them.

“Aren’t these those, uh...IV things?” Larkin asked, reaching out to push one.

“Yeah, but I don’t think the bags are supposed to have that in them.” Mathew pointed at one of the bags, filled with a semi-transparent blue liquid. “Usually they’re full of blood or clear liquid what...what is that?”

“Maybe it’s poison?” Larkin suggested in a quiet voice.

Mathew shuddered. “Well, it’s not good, definitely.” He stepped away from the IVs, pulling Larkin by the hand as well. “Do you think we should, maybe, start calling for Mom? Like, shout her name?”

“What if—”

Clunk.

Both boys stiffened, leaning closer to each other. That metallic sound had come from nearby...behind one of the doors.

Ca-chunk.

Mathew recognized it that time: it was the sound of something unlocking. Panic surged through his veins. He was sure that whatever had the ability to unlock the doors in this place wouldn’t be friendly to them. His head darted around, but saw nowhere to go. Except for the doors. Well, better than nothing. He ran towards the nearest one, dragging Larkin, and tried the doorknob. Surprisingly, this one turned. He threw open the door and shoved Larkin inside, just as he heard the sound of a different door creaking open as well. He ducked into the room and closed the door behind them, only then allowing himself to breath.

“Told you one would be unlocked,” Larkin said, the shaking in his voice betraying his fear.

“Yeah, haha, you told me so.” Mathew looked around this room. White walls, just like the hallways. Metal tables with stained blue tablecloths sat in rows, a few trays on wheels clustered near the ends. On top of the tables were clusters of metal...instruments? Tools? Things that looked like they would be used in a surgery in a hospital where they didn’t care if the patients actually survived...which, Mathew realized, might actually be what this place was. There were more tools on the walls, though most of these looked more like knives and swords.

There were footsteps in the hallway outside. They stopped outside the door to the room.

This time Larkin acted first. He ran towards the nearest table, yanking Mathew along with him, and then dove underneath. Mathew quickly caught on, scrambling under the table as well, making sure the cloth returned to its proper place. Then the door opened.

Mathew stopped breathing for a moment, reaching out to grab Larkin and hold him close. The tablecloths didn’t go all the way to the floor, leaving the boys with a good view of the source of the footsteps. A pair of shoes and legs, which wasn’t too unusual. Except for the fabric being oddly stitched together, and the shoes being covered in more of those red-brown stains. There was also the ragged hem of a white coat, which...didn’t look like it was made out of regular fabric.

The legs stopped at the table the boys were hiding under. Larkin glanced over at Mathew with wide eyes, who shook his head slightly and pressed a finger to his lips.

More sounds. Metallic. The thing in the coat was probably looking over the tools on the table. It showed no signs of moving for a good while. Mathew held Larkin closer, feeling his pulse clash with the pace of his own heartbeat. Would it notice? Would they have to run? Could they run?

Then the legs turned and walked away. One of the trays on wheels clattered across the floor, being dragged back to the original spot. More metallic sounds, as some tools were transferred over to the tray. And then the thing left, taking the tray with it. The door opened and closed, and there was silence.

For a while, the two boys stayed under the table, slowly breathing. And then Larkin let out a soft, sad sort of gasp, the type that’s trying to be a sob but doesn’t quite get there. And Mathew murmured, “It’s fine, it’s gone, we’re okay, we got this” over and over again.

“W-we...we really need to find Mom,” Larkin said shakily.

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Mathew tried to keep any doubt out of his voice. The sort of doubt that gnawed at you and asked, What if you can’t? “C’mon. Let’s go.”

They climbed out from under the table. Larkin started heading towards the door, but Mathew said, “Wait.” He was looking at the tools hanging on the walls. Slowly, he reached out and carefully took one of the knife-looking ones. Just in case. “Alright. Let’s go.”

 * * * * * * * * *

When the door opened, Stacy froze. Then she intensified her struggles against the straps. She was sure she was close to getting one arm free, if she could only hurry, if she only had more time—

“Oh, well that’s not good.”

That was a completely human voice. Not at all what she was expecting. Taken off guard, Stacy craned her head towards the door.

There was a man standing there. Wearing a green jacket over a black hoodie, an eye-patch covering his right eye and bandages around his neck. His hair was brown, with a few streaks of gray, and his visible eye was blue. He looked...well, ‘worse for wear’ would be an understatement, but he was actually fairly young-looking. “You need some help there?” he asked.

Stacy narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

For a moment, the man looked hurt, but then he just looked tired. He smiled. “Well, I guess it’s not really important right now. What’s important is that I can get you out. Just, uh, give me a second.”

“...fine.” Why did he seem so familiar?

The man walked over to the side of the bed, looking over the straps. “Alright, this should be easy. They’re just buckles.” He started with the ones on her ankles, then her wrists, and finally her chest. “There.”

Stacy immediately sat up, rubbing her wrists. There would probably be marks left from her attempts to escape. “Thanks,” she muttered, looking the man over. “So, uh...do you have a name?”

The man laughed a bit grimly. “At this point, that’s debatable. But you can call me...you can call me John.”

“John?” Stacy looked confused, then her eyes widened with realization. “Oh my god, John!” The memories came back. “It’s you!”

“You remember?!” John gaped, looking surprised.

“Yeah, of course I remember you, I just didn’t recognize you at first.” That was strange. She doubted anyone else in the world looked similar to John, how come she hadn’t been able to connect him to the man she knew? “Thank you. But, uh, how’d you get here? We left you in Ireland.”

“I have my ways,” John chuckled. “Sorry I got a bit lost, but I was trying to find you. Weird, huh? Don’t know why, guess you’ve grown on me.”

“Well, we are kinda similar,” Stacy reasoned. She swung her legs to the side and stood up, stumbling a bit. Seemed that whatever had been used to knock her out was still affecting her. “But still, how’d you get here? The world’s a big place.”

“I actually came here for a different reason,” John said. “It has to do with this thing.”

“This...thing?” Stacy quickly put it together. “There’s another fucking horror monster here.”

“Yeah. And last time I ran into it, it got really, really annoyed with me, so uh. I’m surprised it hasn’t noticed I’m here yet.”

“Maybe it’s been distracted.” Stacy grabbed her jacket and holster from the table, putting the holster on but wrapping the jacket around her waist. “Do you know the way out of here?”

“Right, uh.” John winced. “Bit complicated. First of all, this place is a maze. I think it might actually shift layout. Second of all, we’re not in a building. We’re actually in some sort of pocket dimension, where the entrances back to the real world pop up and disappear randomly. And third of all...well, I probably wouldn’t have come in here. But I saw...the kids. They ran into one of the entrances, a-and I followed them.”

Stacy felt her heart stop. “Mathew and Larkin?”

“They’re in here,” John confirmed.

Stacy closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, fighting back against the deep-seated fear in her heart. “We have to find them. Let’s hurry.”

John nodded. “Let’s hurry.”

They headed out the room and into the branching hallways, walking hurriedly but not running. The sound of their footsteps on the tiles echoed in the corridors. Stacy’s eyes darted to each door, half-expecting something to pop out. “Do you know the way around this place?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“No, not really,” John said, equally quiet. “I’ve only been here once before. And like I said, it might shift around.”

That wasn’t encouraging to hear. “Mathew? Larkin?” Stacy called, raising her voice only slightly above her normal speaking volume.

“Be careful!” John hissed. “You don’t want it to hear you.”

Stacy shut her mouth abruptly. “Right.” Uneasy, she reached under her jacket and pulled out her handgun. She doubted that a bullet would stop whatever was in here. After all, she hit one of these things with a car, and it still recovered enough to chase them out of town. But maybe it would slow it down.

They walked for what felt like forever. There was no way to tell how much time had passed, or where they were in this maze. Everywhere looked the same: walls lined with doors, occasionally finding equipment like IV poles or a gurney when reaching a corner or intersection. Stacy tried to open a few of the doors, but found them all locked. A faint, high sound pierced through the air, a sound that she recognized but didn’t dare to name. So she just shivered, and walked on, as they passed through a four-way intersection and chose to go forward at random.

Suddenly, John reached out a hand to stop her. “Do you hear that?” he asked.

“...no?” Stacy fell silent. “Wait, I think so.” There was a different sound echoing in the halls. It sounded like...footsteps. Where was it coming from?

Her eyes widened as she whirled around. Behind them, the footsteps approached from one of the hallways at the intersection. They came closer, and soon it turned the corner.

It was a human figure, and at first might be mistaken for a doctor. But that impression was quickly pushed aside. Stitches crossed the coat, clothes, and even its skin, most of its face hidden by a blue surgical mask. For a moment Stacy froze, making eye contact with one wide, blue eye. And then there was a shriek.

John grabbed her arm and started pulling. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck it’s pissed!”

Stacy stumbled but quickly started running as well, shoes squeaking on the tile floor. She clutched the handle of her gun, too busy running to look around and shoot.

“Lauf nicht weg!” Its voice screamed. Footsteps pounded against the floor behind them, easily keeping pace. “Komm hierher zurück!”

“Shit!” Stacy pushed herself to run faster, already breathing heavily. The hallway turned a corner and her shoes skidded across the floor, causing her to almost lose her balance as she turned. John pulled her back into place as they kept running. Behind them, there was the sound of something slamming against the wall as the footsteps momentarily faltered, then returned, faster than before.

Where could they go?! This was an endlessly extending hallway, and it was right behind them, so there was no way to stop and open a door. If the doors would even open, which they most likely wouldn’t. All they could do was keep running.

The hallway ended in a three-way intersection, branching off into two other halls. In the center was a cluster of IV poles. John took the left path, and Stacy turned around to push the poles over. They crashed to the floor, and the thing cried out.

“Look!” John pointed to a door, which was just slightly ajar. Stacy nodded, and the two of them pulled it open and ducked inside, closing it tight.

Only a few seconds later, footsteps ran past the door and barrelled down the hall.

Stacy relaxed, but John looked worried. “It knows we’re wandering around now,” he muttered.

At that, she tensed. “Do you think it knows Mathew and Larkin are here?” John hesitated to answer, which sent a shot of worry through her. “We need to find them. Now. I say we stop being cautious and hurry.”

“Well...let’s not abandon it entirely,” John said slowly. “But yeah.”

Stacy slowly opened the door, just enough to glance out and look to the right and left. The thing in the white coat was nowhere to be seen, so she opened it further and stepped out. “C’mon,” she muttered, holding her gun in both hands. This place was big, but it was still limited, right? They had to run into them eventually.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Do you think we could take a break?” Larkin asked.

Mathew looked down at him. “Uh...” In truth, he was starting to get tired as well. They must’ve been walking for an hour at least. But...“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” That thing from before could turn up at any moment.

Larkin sighed. They reached yet another intersection, and paused to look down each of the three paths available to them. “What’s that?” Larkin pointed down the right hallway. Unlike every other hall they’d seen so far, this one had no doors, except for one at the end. That door was steel, blocked with a bar across the entrance.

“Oh. Uh, I don’t know.” Mathew hesitated. “Do you think we should...check it out? It looks dangerous.”

“But like...that’s a door you’d hide something in,” Larkin said. “What if Mom’s in there?”

Mathew was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, we can try it.” He made sure he was holding the blade he’d picked up tightly, then they walked down the hallway towards the door.

Upon reaching the door, Larkin tried to grab the steel bar. He shook it, but it was locked down tight. “Hang on, I’m gonna look at this lock,” Mathew said, leaning down so he could see it better.

The lock was a simple padlock, but it looked like there was a separate one actually in the doorknob. Mathew hummed. He didn’t want to waste their time on this if it turned out their mom wasn’t inside. So he banged on the door. “Hello? Anyone inside?”

Silence. Then, a faint sound. A voice.

“Mom?” Larkin asked, pressing his ear against the door.

“Mom, are you in there?!” Mathew called.

The voice got louder, and clearer. The words were hard to make out, but it was undoubtedly their mom. “Hang on, we’ll unlock the door somehow!” Mathew shouted, then turned his attention back to the locks. How could they get this open without the keys? Could they try to pick the lock? With what? Mathew looked down at the blade. This was long and thin. Maybe...?

He lifted up the blade and poked the end into the padlock. After wiggling it around aimlessly for a bit, he realized that he could actually feel something tapping against the blade inside the lock. It took a few solid minutes for him to angle the blade appropriately, and then he turned it and the padlock came off and fell to the floor with a metallic clang. “Yeah!” Mathew grinned triumphantly, then pulled the steel bar away. It swung on a swivel and hit the wall, allowing him access to the lock in the knob. That one took a few more minutes, actually long enough for Larkin to get tired and sit down. Until finally, there was the cha-chunk sound of it unlocking. “Yes!” Mathew pumped his fist, and Larkin scrambled to his feet. He quickly pushed open the door. “Mom, we’re he—”

The room beyond was dark, but not silent. A heavy whine filled the air, not like a living thing, but more...electronic. Mathew cut himself off, staring into the shadows. Things were moving in there. He could see their eyes. Green, glowing in the darkness. The moment the door opened, frantic shuffling sounds took over the whine, accompanied by some clattering as if things were bumping against metal structures.

Larkin whimpered. “Mat...? I—I don’t think that Mom’s in here.”

Mathew shook his head, stepping back. “...no. I-I don’t think so either. But—but we heard her!”

“Were we tricked?”

That must have been the case. Mathew lifted up the blade, holding it in front of him in trembling hands. “We have to close the door,” he whispered.

The electric whine suddenly grew, increasing in volume until it was piercing. The movement in the shadows turned desperate, things throwing themselves against walls. Then suddenly, something fell to the floor with a loud crash! It banged against the floor, the thing inside it writhing with enough force to pull it into the light. And then, it was clear that the room was full of steel cages, cages just like this. And something inside was starting to wriggle out through a gap in the bars.

“Close the door!” Mathew shrieked, scrambling backwards. Larkin didn’t respond, frozen and staring at the thing flailing on the ground. So Mathew pushed him out of the way, and hurried to grab the heavy steel door and push it closed. But it was slow, too slow, and something managed to squeeze through the gap just before it closed.

The thing was the size of a large dog, but it only vaguely resembled one. Its body was a mismatch of metallic parts and flesh, exposed muscles dripping blood. There was a vague head, with two green eyes, one in front and one in back, as well as a set of metal teeth resembling a bear trap. Two more eyes dangled from its sides, one on the left and one on the right, and six metal legs extended to the ground, one hanging limply as if injured.

For a moment, the boys just stared. And then it lunged. Mathew screamed, and threw the blade towards it, lodging in the creature’s chest and stalling it just long enough for him to grab Larkin and start running.

The creature emitted a loud blast of static, then started bounding after its prey.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Did you hear that?” Stacy stopped walking.

“Hear what?” John glanced around the hallway. “Is it coming?”

“No, it sounded like a scream.”

“Oh. Well...there are a lot of screams in here,” John said reluctantly.

“No. I know this one.” Stacy turned, and noticed a hallway branching off the wall of their current corridor. She broke into a run, heading towards the scream. John soon followed, though it took him a moment to overcome his surprise.

The new hallway twisted and turned several times before emerging into a long, straight passage, a four-way crossroad at the end. Stacy slowed down, unsure where to go from here.

Luckily, she didn’t have to decide. Mathew suddenly came running into the intersection from the right passage, pulling Larkin behind him. He hesitated, looking around and trying to decide where to go, and Stacy cried out. “Mathew! Larkin!”

“Mom?!” Mathew looked towards her, relief mixing with the fear already in his face. He hurried forward, still pulling Larkin, and soon the creature following them came into view. It scrabbled against the tile floor before recovering, turning to continue pursuit.

“What the shit?!” Stacy yelled. That thing was terrifying, but she found herself running forward to meet it. Once she met Mathew and Larkin in the middle of the hall, she pushed them behind her and raised her gun, pulling the trigger as fast as she could.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

Four shots. Two missed the creature and hit the walls, one landed in its body, and the last was the perfect lucky shot, hitting it in the eye. The creature let out a loud static shriek and stopped, raising one of its front legs and hitting itself in the head.

“What is that?!” Stacy gasped, hoisting her gun. She turned around, instinctively looking towards John for an answer, but he didn’t even notice her. He was staring, fixed in place, at the creature, his face suddenly white as a sheet.

“We found it in a room,” Mathew explained, holding tight to Larkin, who wasn’t responding. “We—we thought you were inside, but it—it sounded like you.”

“It what?” Stacy was about to ask more, but then there was a crack! The creature’s head spun around, a complete one hundred eighty degrees so that the back was now in front. And with the eye in the back now seeing straight ahead, it let out another static burst and lunged. “Fuck!” Stacy grabbed Mathew and John and broke into a run, dragging everyone back the way they came.

For the second time, Stacy found herself running through the endless maze, taking turns and paths at random, with no time to duck into a door. Her breath tore her lungs ragged, and her mouth started to taste of copper, but she had to keep going. The others started to lag, and Larkin stumbled, but she couldn’t let go of them. She couldn’t let go.

They soon arrived at yet another intersection, this one shaped like a T. Stacy turned left at random, and ran straight into something solid with an oof-inducing thump. Staggering back, she looked up, and made eye contact with the thing in the white coat. Her blood suddenly ran cold.

The group stopped for too long. Mathew shouted, and Stacy whirled around to see the creature jumping right at them. Before she could do anything about it, it landed, knocking John to the ground. He screamed, trying to back up, but the creature was too close, its bear-trap teeth snapping. It was all he could do to push it back.

Something grabbed Stacy’s shoulder, and she gasped as she was turned around to face the thing in the white coat. “Etwas tun!” It shouted.

“Wh—” Stacy blinked. It was...actually talking to her. Directly.

“Du hast eine Waffe, benutze sie!” The thing shook her gently. “Schieß auf die Augen!”

Augen? She knew that word. It meant eyes. Did it want her to attack the creature’s eyes? For less than a second, she wondered why it would want that, but there was no time. She pulled out her gun again and turned around, taking aim. She’d have to be careful; if she missed, she could easily hit John. But if she did nothing, he was a goner for sure!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

It took her three tries to finally hit the eye on the creature’s side, causing it to burst in an explosion of red. It shrieked in static, and turned to look at her.

BANG!

Just one try to hit the eye in its head, and it was scrambling backwards, limbs flailing wildly as it rolled on the ground.

BANG! BANG!

And just two more tries before she finally shot the eye on its other side. It wailed, the sound less electric and more animalistic, and its movements slowed to a stop. Then she blinked, and its body was gone.

Stacy lowered her gun, breathing heavily. She looked at Mathew, standing nearby with his eyes scrunched up and his hands over Larkin’s ears, then at John, pushing himself into a sitting position and clutching his chest. “Is...is everyone alright?” she asked.

Mathew nodded, and slowly lowered his hands. Larkin looked a bit dazed, but nodded as well. John didn’t respond, instead looking down at his hands. Then he looked up and around, as if he couldn’t believe his surroundings were real.

“Warum bist du hier?!”

The moment of relief was ruined. Stacy turned around, quickly putting herself in between the kids and the thing in the white coat. But it wasn’t paying attention to her; instead its focus was directed entirely at John, who was startled back into the present. “Ich habe dir gesagt, du sollst niemals zurückkommen! Warum bist du hier?! Das wäre nicht passiert, wenn du nicht hier wärst!”

John blinked slowly. “I’m not gonna say I’m sorry. I only followed these guys. You shouldn’t have taken them.”

“Ich hatte nicht vor, einen von ihnen zu verletzen,” the thing snapped. “Alles wäre gut, wenn Sie nicht hier wären!”

“I mean, I don’t think they would agree with you.”

“What’s...going on?” Stacy said slowly.

John climbed to his feet. “Well. I’m not supposed to be here, and it’s pissed about that.”

“Du hast versprochen, dass du nicht zurückkommst.” It almost sounded accusatory now. “Du würdest nicht zurückkommen, wenn ich dir diesen Gefallen tun würde.”

“Should...should we be worried?” Stacy asked, glancing back towards the thing. Its expression was hard to read, but the hostility was palpable.

“Well it says it wasn’t going to hurt you,” John said. “Let me guess, this is still related to that thing in the house.”

“Natürlich!”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The thing made a hissing noise. “Ich werde dich auf der anderen Seite der Welt absetzen. Dann wirst du vielleicht für immer verschwinden.”

“Well that’s not very nice,” John said dully.

“You can...speak German?” Mathew asked.

“No,” John said. “For some reason, I can just understand what this thing in particular is saying.”

The thing, apparently giving up on talking to him, turned around and walked away, stopping at the nearest door. It knocked four times on the surface, then opened it up. Slowly, it turned back to look at John, then pointed into the door.

“Oh no way, I’m not leaving them with you,” John walked over to stand in front of Stacy and the boys. “Why can’t you all just leave them alone?”

The thing didn’t answer, just pointed furiously into the doorway.

“Oh, what are you going to do, make me? Did that work out before?” John rolled his visible eye. “You can’t stop me from coming back here—”

Suddenly, the thing lunged forward, grabbing John by his hair and slamming him against the wall. John gasped, then slumped forward, dazed. The thing adjusted its grip to John’s arm and started pulling him towards the open door.

“Hey! Stop!” Stacy shrieked, and holstering her gun, she ran forward, barely grabbing onto John’s other arm right as the thing dragged him through the doorway. It looked up at her, annoyed, but said nothing, yanking on John’s arm. Stacy refused to let go, and ended up falling onto the floor.

She expected the door to lead into another room, but instead, she found herself in another hallway. This one was narrower, and it looked strangely...unreal. The walls and floor looked a bit blurred, as if her vision was fuzzy. Yet looking down at her hands, they were still clear, as were the thing and John, who had regained his senses and was now struggling against the thing’s hold. At the end of the hallway, there was...light. Not artificial light, but sunlight. Stacy gaped at it, then scrambled to her feet.

Mathew and Larkin were standing in the doorway, watching her get up. She looked back at them. “C’mon, pumpkins.” She pointed towards the sunlight. “We’re getting out.” Her voice was a whisper, scared the thing would hear her. The kids looked at each other, then nodded, and stepped into the hall in unison.

John and the thing were getting closer and closer to the sunlight, and John was doing his best to pull away. He wasn’t having much success, as the thing was unaffected by any of his struggles. Stacy took a deep breath, then ran forward, grabbing John’s other arm once again. “I got you!” she said, gritting her teeth.

“Ah! Stacy, be careful!” John gasped, surprised.

The thing made a frustrated noise, then leaned forward to try and push Stacy away. She held on tight to John’s arm, and looked back to the kids. “Go!” she shouted, gesturing with her head towards the sunlight. “We’ll be right there!”

Mathew hesitated, so Larkin took his hand and ran, right past the thing in the white coat, who jumped in surprise, and out into the sunlight. “Nein!” It shouted. It turned around, loosening its grip just a bit, and at that, Stacy yanked on John’s arm and pulled him free. He scrambled to his feet and the two of them broke into a run.

“Stopp!” The thing reached out, the ends of its fingers brushing against John’s jacket as they ran past. Crying out as it failed to grab him, it broke into a run, quickly catching up. John ran out into the sunlight, but Stacy cried out as it caught her by the back of her shirt, yanking her backwards.

“Oh my god! Give up already!” John took both of Stacy’s hands and started pulling. For a moment, it seemed even, but then Stacy felt herself being dragged backwards. She cried out, kicking backwards, but the thing didn’t react.

Then Mathew and Larkin appeared, each grabbing one of their mom’s arms and joining in. With that, the tug-of-war was even again. Stacy gasped, managing to take one step forward.

And with a sudden rrrrrip! the fabric of her shirt tore off, and she fell onto the ground outside. The thing screamed out, but it was soon cut off, as whatever entrance it had created suddenly closed.

Stacy panted, and rolled over, blinking up at a blue sky. She was lying on a patch of yellowish grass, the nearby area covered in dirt, scrubby bushes, and more patches. Nearby, a black asphalt highway stretched across the ground and disappeared into the distance, cars passing by every twenty seconds or so. The only other landmark nearby was a road sign and a strange, empty wooden doorway, perhaps the remains of an old building lost to the weather.

“Mom?”

Mathew and Larkin appeared in her vision, leaning down over her. The wave of relief that followed was so intense that she had to laugh. “Oh...oh, you two. My pumpkins.” She smiled. “Are you alright?”

“For right now, yeah,” Mathew said. “Are you?”

“Of course I am.” She sat up, shivering a bit as a breeze played against the new hole in the back of her shirt. Looking around, her eyes landed on the road sign. Blue, with white text reading Rest Stop: 10 Miles. “Miles?” She repeated. “We...we’re in America. How’d we get here?”

“It connected an entrance here.” John, standing nearby, folded his arms. “It can move the maze entrances wherever, you know. I, uh, kind of wondered if I could somehow use that to catch up with you guys, but you were already there. Still, the States, that’s a long way to go. No wonder the entrance only lasted about a minute.”

Stacy stood up as well. “Hey, uh. Thanks for showing up.”

John shrugged, and grinned. “No problem. I guess I’ve gotten attached.” For just a moment, his expression fell, and fear flickered across his face. But he quickly covered it up.

“Mom?” Larkin tugged on Stacy’s jacket. “Where are we?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Lark. But...well, maybe if we go to that rest stop the sign mentions, we could find out. It’ll be a long way to walk, are you up for that?”

Larkin bit his lip, then nodded. “Carry me?”

Stacy laughed. “You’re a bit big, but sure. Just this once.”

So with the midday sun bearing down, the group started walking in silence. Everything was still uncertain. And nobody could forget the new memories they’d made anytime soon. But the only thing to do was keep moving. They’d find a place to rest soon.

[gentlyphotographing]

[Not that too]

A/N: First fic thing for SOA as I only started with it recently. Reader is with a German background here, it’ll be explained more later on. No apperance of the SAMCRO guys in here yet but SOOOON If u enjoy it, pls like or put a note on it, it’d be much appreciated.

Part 2

‚Had it really been such a good idea? America is pretty fucked up‘ she thought while standing on the pavement of the freeway. Or highway. Autobahn. Whatever this one was called, it was big, pretty isolated stretch of road. Left and right was just wide, wide open nothing. Y/N had passed the last gas station about an hour ago. Her tank was still full, as was the emergency canister in her pack, but she didn’t dare ride the Harley now, not after the noise it made when she tried moving it.

Standing in the middle of the road, she hoped for someone to come by and stop, or at least not run her over, or try to smash her bike and head with a crowbar, like the guy on the ground a few metres from her bike had.

A roaring sound could be heard from the distance, growing louder by the second. Her head shot up in the direction of the sound, same one she had come from, as she tried to identify the sound. Against the gleam of the sun she could make out a group of bikers drawing closer. She threw her arms up at the sight of them, as if she was doing jumping jacks. Maybe they’d stop. Maybe she’d get run over by motorcycles. It could only get better.

As far as she could make out, they were all fairly big guy, all clad in black. Leather probably, Right choice for riding a bike, wrong choice for this kind of sun, she thought. Or maybe it was just like that for her. She’d shed her bright red leather jacket when she stopped at the side of the road for a drink, her shirt soaked through with sweat. Or that was at least what it felt like to her.

They probably had noticed her because she saw the one in the front throw his hand up to signal the guys behind him, and they all started to slow down before coming to a stop about 5 metres in front of her. She was right when she thought they were big guys from afar, but from this close a distance they were not only that but also quite intimidating. Black helmets, sunglasses and, like she thought, leather vests with patches on them. Some wore hoodies under them, some not. On their left side, all of them, or at least the ones she could see, had a patch that read ‚Tacoma‘.  ‚Is that a country, a state, a county or a city?‘ she rubbed the back of her neck when they started dismounting their bikes. ‚Maybe they all really love their german grandmas‘ she thought.

„Hey!“ with a little wave she showed them a small grin. „Thanks for stopping uhm… I kinda need some help I think? This dude there –“ their heads turned when she pointed at the guy on the ground and then to his truck „- he uhm hit my taillight and stuff and now it makes that really weird noise when I start it…“ They looked back at her, eyebrows raised behind their sunglasses. „My cellphone doesn’t really get a connection here, I think I might still have a German simcard in?“ ‚And I wouldn’t really know what number to call anyways‘ but that part she only thought to herself before speaking up again „And uh yeah… That’s why I was hoping someone coming by who might be able to help me out? I don’t know, I don’t wanna trouble you too much, but it would be very much uuuuh appreciated if you could help me.“

The guy in front turned around to the others, none of them had said a word past a hello to her since they stopped. Well, being waved down by someone in bright red leather pants, huge boots and a grey shirt saying „Keene Angst, ick tu Sie nüscht“ while behind her a guy is lying unconcious on the ground between a slightly smashed in white motorbike and a black SUV would, probably, make anyone a little cautious. „What exactly happened with him?“ he nodded in the guy’s direction. „Oh uhm well, that’s a weird story…“ „ Johnny, Mike, take a look at her ride, everyone else, get your damn bikes off the road. A few moments later, a whooping big amount of bikes stood at the side of the road, a few guys were looking at the vehicles while she recounted what had happened earlier to the man that had spoken to her and some of his friends. Colleagues. Buddies.

All the others turned to the little pulp around her when they started laughing. One was holding his stomach while another put his hands on his knees, shaking his head. The speaker, she had dubbed him in her head, had a hand hitting the shoulder of the guy next to him repeatedly.

By the time the two men that had examined the damage came over, everyone’s faces wore a reddish tinge. „It’s nothing big. The fender is a little banged in and has pushed something over so now it’s scraping.“ They told her before turning to the man next to her. „She can probably make it to Charming, then SAMCRO can have a look at it.“

A few nods and an invitation to ride to the next town with them later, everyone was on their bikes again, driving along the road with her in the middle of the group.

[swildahinton]

EN | I grew up in a world full of suppressed emotions or better full of people who were suppressing their emotions. There’s different ways of suppressing ones emotions. Some people have no other choice and they do it in order to survive, others may have big struggles to understand their emotions, because of their neurological or psychological dispositions and again others may have had no time yet to take care of their own skills to build up emotional intelligence. I think that everyone can develop a certain kind of emotional intelligence, it’s a good prevention in case of mental breakdowns, as I speak from experience. I’ve been building up a lot of strategies and skills to be armed in case of a mental break down.

DE | Ich bin in einer Welt voller unterdrückter Emotionen aufgewachsen oder besser: In einer Welt voll von Menschen, die ihre Emotionen unterdrücken. Es gibt verschiedene Wege die eigenen Emotionen zu unterdrücken. Manche Menschen haben keine andere Wahl und sie tun es, um zu überleben. Andere mühe sich damit ab, ihre eigenen Emotionen verstehen zu können, weil sie, durch ihre neurologische oder/und psychologische Veranlagungen, daran gehindert werden wiederum, andere hatten bisher einfach keine Zeit um ihre emotionale Intelligenz auszubilden. Ich glaube, dass jeder Mensch eine bestimmte Art von emotionaler Intelligenz entwickeln kann. Das ist eine gute Präventionsmaßnahmen für Nervenzusammenbrüche, da spreche ich aus Erfahrung. Ich habe sehr viele Strategien und Fähigkeiten entwickelt, um für einen Nervenzusammenbruch gewappnet zu sein.

EN | I developed a certain kind of emotional intelligence, because I had no other choice. I identify myself with high-functioning Aspergers/ADHS. I was always a little psychologist, analyzing other peoples behavior, in order to fit it. It didn’t work very well, most of the time, because of my hyperactivity and my meltdowns (which I mostly had at home or in environments where people didn’t accept my boundaries). I was a so called “difficult child”. At school I was the class clown, at least some of my classmates really thought that I was funny, so that I could build up a certain kind of ego by being funny and in a way disobedient. I liked to wear funny clothes and make-up since I was 12. I was the cool kid for a while, but this was only the tip of the iceberg. Underneath there was a sad, angry, unloved child who was only trying to get the attention that my family wasn’t able to give me. The one thing that really helped me in school was joining the school choir and singing solo parts in concerts, so that I got the attention for my singing skills and not only for being the class clown with learning disabilities in math and grammar.

DE | Ich hab eine bestimmte Art von emotionaler Intelligenz entwickelt, weil ich keine andere Wahl hatte, denn ich identifiziere mich mit hochfunktionalem Asperger Syndrom. Ich war immer eine kleine Psychologin/Analytikerin. Das Verhalten andere Menschen zu analysieren, half mir mich ihnen anzupassen. Es hat nicht immer gut funktioniert, weil ich die meiste Zeit zusätzlich mit meiner Hyperaktivität und sog. “meltdowns” zu kämpfen hatte. Diese “meltdowns” hatte ich meistens zuhause, ein Ort an dem die Menschen meine Grenzen und Bedürfnisse weder akzeptiert, noch verstanden haben. Ich wurde als schwieriges Kind eigestuft. In der Schule war ich der Klassenclown, wenigstens fanden mich einige meiner SchulfreundInnen witzig, sodass ich ein gewisses Ego entwickeln konnte, in dem ich witzig und ein wenig ungehorsam war. Ich habe mich auffällig gekleidet und trug Make-Up, seit dem ich 12 war. Meine Schwester hat es sehr spannend gefunden, mich zu Schminken, weil ich so helle und lange Wimpern hatte. Ich war das cool kid für ein Weile, vielleicht auch, weil man Angst vor mir hatte, denn ich habe mir selten was gefallen lassen, schon garnicht, dass man mich gemobbt hat. Darunter versteckt war das traurige, wütende und ungeliebte Kind, dass nur die Aufmerksamkeit haben wollte, die mir meine Familie nicht gegeben hat bzw. geben konnte. Was mir wirklich geholfen hat, war dem Schulchor beizutreten, denn dort bekam ich die Aufmerksamkeit für meinen Gesang und nicht mehr nur, weil ich der Klassenclown mit Lernschwierigkeit in Mathe und Grammatik war.

EN | I lost my grandma from that moment when she developed a very bad depression. I also lost my grandpa, when he died – after being paraplegic even before I was born. But I think that I didn’t know him very well. My grandma suffered a lot, her whole life. What I can say now, from an adult point of you. I can’t say if she was a good grandma or not, because certain behavior towards me might have been strange from the beginning and because of her modesty, she never did things for herself, only for others. This was probably a result of her inability to understand her emotions. It seems like a vicious cycle and I’m right in it. This is only the beginning, I don’t know if helps me to write this down for good, but it at least takes away the fear of losing my previous knowledge.

DE | Ich hatte mein Großmutter verloren, von dem Moment an, als sie eine sehr starke Depression entwickelt hatte. Ich hab meinen Großvater verloren, als er starb, nachdem er jahrelang querschnittsgelähmt war. Aber ich kann nicht sagen wie gut ich ihn eigentlich kannte. Meine Großmutter hat ihr ganzes Leben lang sehr gelitten, das kann ich aus meiner heutigen Perspektive sagen. Ich kann nicht sagen, ob sie eine gute Großmutter war, weil es sicherlich sehr merkwürdige Verhaltensweisen von ihrer Seite gab, an die ich mich nicht mehr erinnern kann. Sie war ein sehr bescheidener Mensch, der sich immer nur um andere gekümmert hat und nicht um sich selbst. Der Grund dafür war vermutlich ihre Unfähigkeit die eigenen Emotionen zu verstehen. Ich fühle mich wie in einem Teufelskreis. Aber das ist nur der Anfang. Ich weiß nicht was es mir bringt endgültig Alles aufzuschreiben, aber es nimmt mir wenigstens die Angst davor meine bisherigen Erkenntnisse zu vergessen.

[geopolicraticus]

Getting to Definitions and Then Getting beyond Them

Transcending our Paradigmatic Formulations of Knowledge

I can understand the frustration that some feel about those of us who focus on definitions. I have been there myself. In some domains of inquiry I have little or no interest in definitions, but when it comes to the study of civilization, I am intensely interested in converging upon an adequate definition of civilization. I don’t look at a definition of civilization as an end in itself, but I do see the importance of clarifying our conception of civilization to the point that we can clearly and ambiguously formulate exactly what it is we are talking about when we talk about civilization; I want to make what we know about civilization explicit.

To date, I have formulated eight definitions of civilization—one of them, my pragmatic definition of civilization, I just used in Civilization and Urbanization—all of which eight definitions hang together in some kind of conceptual framework that could serve as the basis for the analysis of civilization, and each of which definitions highlight a particular aspect of that which we informally think of as exemplifying civilization.

It has been said that, while science begins with definitions, philosophy culminates in definitions. This is an oversimplification, but it points to features of scientific and philosophical thought that are, at least, not wrong. Science and philosophy can both benefit from this conceptual division of labor, following which division philosophy produces definitions that are used as the point of departure in the special sciences, and then the work of the special sciences becomes the point of departure for philosophical speculation, culminating in further definitions that are used in turn as the point of departure for further science.

A philosophy of civilization might produce a definition of civilization, which then could be employed in a science of civilization as a point of departure. An elaborated science of civilization would, in turn, produce a great deal of material for philosophical reflection, and philosophically reflecting on a science of civilization might bring us to further definitions, to be used in further science. I am not suggesting that this is the only or the optimal way that science and philosophy can work cooperatively to expand human knowledge, but it is at least one schematic way of understanding possible cooperation between disparate disciplines that usually, where they intersect, came into conflict.

So even though I am intensely interested in definitions of civilization, and I can see the possibility of a philosophy of civilization that would culminate in a definition of civilization, I would not see our scientific knowledge and understanding of civilization to be finished and completed after having arrived at a definition of civilization that seems to be prima facie adequate. One might think of a definition as a paradigmatic formulation of knowledge, but no paradigm lasts forever. The process of both expanding and refining knowledge goes on, whether under the umbrella of science or philosophy is indifferent to me, and the definitions at which we arrive, or from which we depart, are only conventional markers in the progress of our knowledge. Definitions, then, might be regarded as boundary stones in the demarcation of science and philosophy, but they are demarcations within the single and continuous territory of human knowledge, and this epistemic territory expands as we set up a new boundary marker only to immediately trespass the limit that it represents.

To speak of definitions as limits reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from Einstein:

“There could be no fairer destiny for any physical theory than that it should point the way to a more comprehensive theory in which it lives on as a limiting case.” (“Es ist das schönste Los einer physikalischen Theorie, wenn sie selbst zur Aufstellung einer umfassenden Theorie den Weg weist, in welcher sie als Grenzfall weiterlebt.”) from Relativity: The Special and the General Theory, chapter 22

Formulating this idea in terms of physical theory implies that it applies only to the natural sciences, but I would paraphrase Einstein in order to apply the same principle to the formal sciences: there could be no fairer destiny for any formal theory than that it should point the way to a more comprehensive formal theory in which it lives on as a limiting case. One constituent of formal theories is definition, and there could be no fairer destiny for a rigorous definition that that it should point the way to a more comprehensive definition in which it lives on as a limiting case.

It is the nature of the intellectual enterprise that we should relentlessly and remorselessly test the limits of the conceptual framework that we have formulated for ourselves. If we arrive at a definition of civilization, the first thing that we would want to do is to throw every possible empirical example in front of the definition and see if it holds up when so confronted. And if we find a chink in the armor of our rigorous definition, then we know that we have more work to do. We improve the definition, and then we test in again, and the process continues.

A definition that has gone too long unchallenged is a field of knowledge that has lain fallow too long, and we do our conceptual framework a favor by calling it into question, and so attempting to expand the boundaries of knowledge. The process of expanding that boundary consists of setting up boundary stones and then stepping beyond them: the boundary stones are the definitions, and stepping beyond the definitions means either finding novel empirical data or formulating thought experiments that point to alternatives to a concept embodied in a definition.

In the formal sciences, we cannot confront a definition with a multitude of empirical cases, but we can still confront a definition with counter-examples. We find this method employed in Lakatos’ Proofs and Refutations: The Logic of Mathematical Discovery, in which the confrontation of a proof with a counter-example is explicitly presented as a way to advance our thought. This is fundamentally a dialectical conception of knowledge. In so far as science and philosophy interact as outlined above, the interaction is a dialectic of science and philosophy, whereas internally neither science nor philosophy would necessarily need to pursue a dialectical method (although this is not ruled out). 

As intensely interested as I am in converging upon an adequate definition of civilization, I am equally interested in challenging any definition with counter-examples from terrestrial history, or with thought experiments as to how civilization might have developed elsewhere in the universe. There is no better way to advance our knowledge than to have an at least partially formalized exposition of an idea (i.e., an exposition of the idea that makes its properties explicit) challenged by a case that cannot be readily categorized by the conceptual framework within which the partially formalized idea appears. This is because the non-conforming instance makes it possible for us to reflect critically on an already partially formalized concept, which allows us to explicitly identify the property ascribed to the concept that presents a problem for the non-conforming instance. We can then reflect on the problematic property, analyzing it in light of the non-conforming instance, to determine whether we ought to alter or eliminate this property in the explicitly defined concept.

What I have written above is very abstract. Let me try to give a concrete example of the kind of process I am discussing. Let us take the example of textiles. In order to identify the earliest appearance of textiles in human history, we have to be able to identify what is a textile and what is not a textile. To do this, an explicit definition of textiles is helpful. Intuitively, we know that a textile is cloth or fabric. But what is cloth? It is easy to fall back on particular examples, and to say that, for example, linen and silk are textiles, but is felt a textile? Felt, instead of being woven like linen, is compressed. So if felt is a textile, then being woven is not an essential property of textiles.  

Some of the earliest textiles preserved are those found with Peruvian mummies, preserved by the extremely dry desert conditions (as with the example pictured above, from Paracas). Textiles have a deep history in Peru. At Guitarrero Cave (found in the Callejón de Huaylas valley in Yungay Province), artifacts have been preserved made of woven plant fibers that date from between 10,000 to 12,000 years before present (see the picture below). These weavings look more like nets used to carry bundles than they look like fabric, so are these textiles or something else? Should we think of them as netting or webbing rather than as early textiles? Do we need to revise our conception of what a textile is (and where textiles came from) in light of these very early examples of weavings? Did textiles evolve from basket weaving of plant fibers, or from sewing together progressively smaller bits of leather when our ancestors were wearing skins, or by weavings like those found in Guitarrero Cave, incrementally refined over time with smaller fibers and tighter weaving?

The instance of textiles is interesting and instructive, but it will be clear to the reader that my interest is in civilization, definitions of civilization, and challenging definitions of civilization. The earliest settled human societies of which we have an archaeological record—e.g., Göbekli Tepe—are clearly something distinct from nomadic hunter-gatherers, but are they civilizations? And thought experiments in exocivilizations can provide us with endless permutations on the idea of civilization. We can use these thought experiments to deepen and to refine our conception of civilization, and then turn this deepened and refined conception of civilization back on ourselves and our civilization today in order to better understand what it is we are doing by living in a civilized condition.

[frethorentden-blog]

Modern dating a field guide download

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[mightbedamian]

#TMIishTuesday #44 - Weird Sayings in English, German, and Dutch

Hey there, first off: I tagged some of my posts. You can find an overview of the tags I used on this page. So, if you are interested in certain topics like my life in the Netherlands, my coming out story, or posts about YouTube, you can now just click those tags and see only those posts. The page also includes a description of what #TMIishTuesday is. How handy, right? Oh and I also did some tagging for pics. There are like 10 pics of 3 people that I know and all of them are YouTubers, so… still check it out, if you want to? :D Let's start with the actual thing now, shall we? Hey there mighty people of the internet! And welcome to issue #44 of #TMIishTuesday - my weekly Tumblr post about what goes through my weird mind and what you guys want to know more about. It can be something very personal, it can be something political, it can be completely pointless - but in 99.9 % of the cases, it involves opinions. And mine as well. // Last week I went quite cliché - again and reflected on my personal year 2016. Veeeeeeery long post but totally worth reading, if you want to know more about me! // In other news, I held the first poll of 2017 and the first poll in like… 4 weeks or so (?) for you to decide today's topic on Twitter. And you guys were interested in what I have to say about those "Weird Sayings". And... you guys, I just love languages! Languages are everything: Strange, very straightforward, not logical, ridiculous, inventive, confusing, never the same, I could go on forever. This is probably gonna be a long post again. #ifyoucouldnttellalready I'll take some bits and bobs from my experiences of speaking three languages - within a minute at times - and bring up some examples from that. If you don't know German or Dutch, don't you worry. I got you! I'll translate to English. As best as possible. #notyetaprofessionalinterpreter Let's start with the initial reason why I came up with the idea to write about this topic: The word "fangirling". If you are not a fangirl yourself, you probably don't have a clue what I'm talking about. Let's take a look into the urban dictionary for help (that's a very handy website for checking what slang means btw, it has saved my life numerous times! Else I wouldn't have been able to understand a lot of videos). Urban dictionary defines "fangirl" as: "A rabid breed of human female who is obesessed with either a fictional character or an actor. Similar to the breed of fanboy. Fangirls congregate at anime conventions and livejournal. Have been known to glomp, grope, and tackle when encountering said obsessions." ...and "fangirling" as: "v. 1. the reaction a fangirl has to any mention or sighting of the object of her "affection". These reactions include shortness of breath, fainting, highpitched noises, shaking, fierce head shaking as if in the midst of a seizure, wet panties, endless blog posts, etc. 2. a gathering of two or more fangirls in which they proceed to waste endless amounts of time ogling, discussing/arguing, stalking, etc. the object of their "affection" " I first learned about "fangirls" on YouTube watching some international YouTuber. Might have been Tyler Oakley, who himself has probably more fangirls any YouTuber will ever have. Looking to the word "fangirl", it makes me notice two things: 1. It's an absolutely brilliant neologism! Perfectly descriptive of its meaning. A "girl" who is a big "fan" of someone: "fangirl". "Fangirling" then is just the act of being such "fangirl". 2. Why is the term "fangirl" so common, while I haven't even heard of a "fanboy"? Why do I have to be "fangirling" when I like to go crazy about a celebrity? Shouldn't I be "fanboying" instead? And thinking inclusively: What about non-binary people who I identify as neither "boy" nor "girl" but somewhere along the spectrum instead? It's that slightly discriminative thing that exists in lots of languages when they just use one word that has an attribute of one gender attached to it to mean both genders. As far as I have noticed, it's not that prevalent in the English language as it is in German and Dutch. Well done, you creators of English! When you talk about a hair dresser that is neutral. It can be either gender. In German ("Friseur" for male; "Friseurin" for female) and Dutch ("kapper" and "kapster" respectively) you don’t have a unisex form: "I went to the hair dresser's to get a haircut yesterday. She did an awesome job!" would be "Ich bin gestern beim Friseur gewesen. Sie hat es richtig gut gemacht!" in German and "Ik ben gisteren naar de kapper geweest. Ze heeft het heel goed geknipt!" (That’s probably not translated too well, but you get my point, right? :D) Notice how both languages use the male form instead of the (correct) female form. Just because you refer to the hair dresser's place instead of the hair dresser herself. Obviously the English language discriminates as well. Think about police men or post men. Have you ever heard someone say "police women"? No, you probably haven't. Granted, I've never lived in a country where English was the native language. But I think it's ridiculous that we have that separation in so many terms, especially with professions. If you want to use the politically correct form, it sounds incredibly unsophisticated. When I read German flyers that are published by governmental organisations, I'm close to puking. "Die Schüler_innen" - yes, there are not only male students in that class (and this form of writing also includes non-binary people - as opposed to “SchülerInnen”). But why make such a mess of it. I think we should introduce a neutral form to use in such occasions. We have neutral pronouns, even to describe people (think of they/them or ze/zir). Why don't we use them for these occasions as well? But alright, I can tell you are getting bored of my political correctness talks again. Let's get on with this post. How about false friends? You may have some in real life (though I hope you don't), but I'm talking about words that sound similar in different languages, but have a completely different meaning. First one that sprang to my mind: The German "Handy". I mean… I have to give you that: A mobile phone is indeed handy. But I've seen lots of people using the word in English to refer to a mobile phone, when native speakers would probably have no idea what they are talking about. Or take "actual" which is actually a great example! actual ≠ aktuell. The English word "actual" is translated to German as eigentlich, tatsächlich; the German "aktuell" means current or up-to-date in English. And there are obviously some with Dutch as well. Take the German word "allemal" and the Dutch word "allemaal". "Allemaal" is often added to a plural pronoun: "wij" (we), "jullie" (you), or "zij" (they), to underline that everyone is involved. And without a doubt it is one of the most frequently used words in Dutch. The German "allemal" is slightly old-fashioned and not used much anymore. It means “certainly” or “for sure”. Another example: The German "fahren" (to ride or to drive) is obviously used very often, while "varen" in Dutch isn't. It sounds very similar, but only refers to "travelling by boat" instead of including pretty much any means of travel, like the German “fahren”. Dutch and English are more fitting. In a way... For “actual” it’s the same story as with German (called "actueel" in Dutch). For the rest: "map" exists in both English and Dutch. But the Dutch word means “folder”, while the English word translates to Dutch as "landkaart". And finally: "room". If you ask a receptionist of a hotel for a "free room" (or a "vrije room") in Dutch, you'll probably get very puzzled and confused looks. Why would you look for free whipped cream? I mean... I'm sure you could get some at a hotel, but… The word you were looking for is "kamer". (And while we’re on it: The Dutch “room” is pronounced with a long “o” sound) When I write a post about languages, I certainly have to address the "Schmetterling" issue. The moment you leave Germany and start talking in a different language, everyone will make remarks about how harsh and really NOT smooth German sounds. And on the one hand you're right! German certainly won’t win the "Best sounding language" award. But on the other hand: Which language should win that award? Dutch also sounds very rough at times. Just think about the "harde G" (hard G) in Friesland and how it sounds to strangers. Let me tell you first hand: It sounds freaking scary! I mean… you'll get used to it, but at first it's very frightening! And English… I mean you basically get to choose between the incredibly posh British English and the American version that - sorry to you Americans out there - quite honestly sounds very wishy-washy to me. And at times the pronunciation is a little too drawn-out for me. Talking about drawn-out things: In an attempt to not draw out this post any more, I'll leave you with this. Tell me something cool in your language! What about "I really enjoyed this post"? :P Okay, kidding. But if you did enjoy it, please let me know anyway. You know the means to get to me: place a comment, tweet me, dm me, or do what else you can think of. And while you’re in it, share it around! Before I go, I'd like to introduce something new to these posts: The “TMIish Queer Shoutout” or so? (That's a working title - tell me, if you can think of something better, please :D). Long story short: In these posts I'd like to tell you about a cool queer thing that I discovered over the last week. This week: Jongens. A Dutch coming-of-age film about Sieger, a fifteen year-old who's forms 1/4th of an athletics team. The four will run at the Dutch championships shortly and over the course of the now intensified trainings, Sieger gets close to his best friend Stef. It's a great plot which shows the struggles of a gay relationship when one partner doesn't fully live up to it. Okay, enough of the spoilers! I suggest you find yourself a site that shows English subtitles with it and watch it! :D And if you know Dutch and don’t need subtitles, you can just head over to npo.nl. As far as I know, it's available world-wide. It surely is in Germany. So have fun! As always: Next #TMIishTuesday next Tuesday. If you have any questions in the meantime, just ask away. Whatever you’re curious about - I don’t bite. :) Until then: Stay mighty! Links for the stuff used/refered to in this post: - Urban Dictionary: Fangirling: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fangirling - Urban Dictionary: Fangirl: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=fangirl - “Jongens” on npo.nl: http://www.npo.nl/jongens/03-08-2014/VPWON_1229280

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