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"I-I'm sorry to bother you. We did want to say the transfer worked perfectly and your new body is working properly." She pauses for a moment. "We normally give patients the ability to get used to and explore their new body... But, uh, there's been a little complication."

You look over at her, her face is pale and you can tell there's some commotion going on outside. You go to speak but you still need to get used to speaking through a voice synthesizer. Nothing but a squeak comes out.

I honestly find it so funny how most trans peoples fantasies are pretty much considered horrifying to most cis people. Like the idea of your body being twisted and reshaped into a different form is the base idea of a lot of horror movies but I'm just like yes please?

Let my body shift and change in front of me. Let my bones crack and reshape into something different. Let my flesh invert itself into a hole that can make new life. Let my chest grow and inflate like boils and tumors. Let my face become unrecognizable, my hair thick and unruly. Let my hard, muscular flesh soften and become weak.

Okay, maybe I'm not the most literary, but I think you get the idea.

I've been thinking a lot about the difference between a place being described as being cursed vs damned.

Mainly I'm trying hard not to describe regular but spooky places as cursed, because at least in my mind cursed means something very specific. Damned is a desolate and dead place, destroyed and full of the dead. A place where nothing can survive and has been abandoned by nature.

But a cursed place is difference. It needs to be a place of malice and hatred beyond the physical. It should have a aire of the supernatural and paranormal, even if the story doesn't have anything supernatural in it. Everything should hate that your characters are there. The sky should be dull and dim, the grass sharp and thirsty to draw blood, the mountains foreboding and oppressive over the landscape, and the buildings unnatural and decaying. There needs to be paths to nowhere, impossible placements of normal objects, catching glimpses of shadows moving in the corner of your eyes.

"Please, please. I didn't know she was your sister!" You plead into the cold Minnesota air.

The Shrimp Pimp looks over to his anthropomorphic shrimp sister standing in the alley by a dockside Denny's.

"You like sleeping with the fishes, huh?" He chatters from his mouth before looking at the two guys beside you. "Do it."

Appalachians - duende

Rockies - ufos

Every time I write that stupid gun is just pointed at the back of my head making me rethink everything I write. Like why can't certain elevator shaft be evil, why can't we see a strange disturbing creature that doesn't go anywhere, it just lives in the world. Like screw you Chekhov my 'short' story is already 70,000 words long and is full of unnecessary details and world building that goes nowhere. Like here is a super obvious boss battle set up and nope. Nothing, just a full world where not everything has meaning or importance. Don't think we will see creepy bent over rib cage mouth creature that screams in guttural whines again. He had his 15 seconds of fame now let my fetish character get back to her life.