Bill sauntered down the steps and slopped himself onto the cot. I looked up from my desk and he managed to slur out "Liver..." before passing out. I would've been happy to move him, but I fear I'd need to disinfect anything that came near him
      I continued with my work, pouring over an old 22nd century manual that Terrence had found down south somewhere. Bill rose noisily something like 4 hours later and seamlessly continued his thought; he slurred out "I want another liver. A robot one, all mechanical and all. I wanna slam 12 shots and not feel a thing in the morning. I wanna pop outta bed the next morning and be ready to shoot a gun and run and all that shit." He heaved out the last word along with some stomach contents.

I think i saw a comic with this same premise

Ty for reminding me of it

I believe the tag for this should be EU rather than WP, since SCP is an established universe.

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Thank you!

It is in human nature to be scared of the unknown, understandable. But because it is unknown it makes me want to 'experience' it even more, I know how it feels to be lucid, I know how it feels to feel. What I don't know is what lays beyond that, how to feel nothing, how it is to not exist. I'm at the point where I stopped being scared long time ago*, curiosity took over that fear to the point I even crave it.

*I'm 29 in 3 months, my earliest memory of that idea (empty void) and overall curiosity how it feels to be dead reaches age of 6, when I was 8 I already stopped being afraid of death and thought of it as of a friend that brings final peace after struggles of this world beside the shape or form it may come in, I'll welcome it with a smile and opened arms. The only thing I am afraid in death is physical pain that comes with it. I know pain is temporary and peace is eternal (if I may use this paraphrase) yet I hope for peaceful transition.

...Sorry

I know! I am over the moon right now!

Thank you!

Chilling, wow!

Ok, that's it. Done.

As Leanna looked down at me, capping my height by a good foot, she blinked. "You're so small." She mused. "I'd never noticed."

"I was estrogen-afflicted as a teenager." I shrugged. "Didn't get any testosterone-fueled growth spurts until after my growth plates had fused."

"Wait, so you're..." Leanna trailed off, blinking. I let her process the new information. It wasn't exactly something that had come up before in her life.

"Did you ever wonder," Issy asked quietly, "why most of the heros you know are trans?"

"Not really. I kind of figured they just kept us together for our own safety. It's not like we get to know everyone. Besides, a lot of the newest ones aren't." Leanna shrugged.

"You're about the same age as Issy, so you weren't alive when it started." I spoke quietly. "The conservatives were losing ground in their battle to keep the status quo. They kept targeting the trans community, trying to make trans women public enemy number one. It was failing, in part because the existence of trans men threw a wrench into all of their arguments about 'keeping women's spaces for biological women,' so a few people with a lot of money decided to deal with the problem extrajudicially.

"They targeted injectable testosterone and estrogen, falsely assuming that only trans people use it. The thing is, they weren't trying to kill us outright, because that would be too obvious. They added things that attacked our DNA, changed us, and in a way they succeeded. You see, it's not illegal to be trans, but it is illegal to be Changed and not register with the government. It was only about five years ago that the government found out what was causing the changes and stopped them very, very quietly. We know because our people are the ones who inflitrated the companies, found out what was going on, and leaked the information.

"The United States government kept it hush-hush, and convinced almost all the other governments to do the same, because they realized that they had just been handed, gift-wrapped, a means of keeping a database of all the trans people. Heroes are the Changed who accept their orders. Villains are the Changed who either refuse to register with them, or refuse to bow to them, and though they track non-trans Changed, they don't conern themselves nearly as much with them unless they are actively harming others."

"What about the new kids?" Leanna asked. "They're not on hormones - hell, most of them are actual children."

"The people deciding what to add to the hormones didn't think about the fact that trans people can reproduce." I replied dryly. "Or that genetic changes might be passed on."

"That's - stupid." Leanna looked disgusted by what I'd told her.

"Bigots usually are." Issy muttered.

"They also really didn't expect the number of cis people who had changes, though many of those were far less intense. You see, the changes occurred incrementally over time and by dosage, so a cis man just supplementing his testosterone got a much smaller overall dose than those of us completely replacing our hormone production." I chuckled. "Athletes, on the other hand, had rapid changes that often ruined their careers, but because they were illegally doping it was pushed under the rug and the companies were able to quickly pivot and start producing just enough uncontaminated to supply to athletes so they wouldn't get caught. The whole thing was considered a single bad batch and then the world forgot."

"Is that why you're so powerful? Because you took it for so long?" Leanna asked suddenly.

I smiled. "Yes and no. A lot of us figured out pretty quickly what was happening, and the ones who had a choice often chose to stop taking their hormones or reduce their dosage. I was curious, and at the time I had no hope, so I actually very slightly increased my dosage. A group of us got together and figured out which companies were selling the contaminated hormones - all of them, by the way - and we figured out how to filter most of the contaminants out. It took us almost 10 years to figure that out, and another 13 to infiltrate the companies and gather the evidence we needed to get them shut down. We became a reseller of as much of the stock as we could, but they never sold only to us and we could only do so much. Through all of it, though, I took the contaminated stuff, but only when each change was finished. We wanted to know what would happen, and I didn't have any other reason to bother living." I shrugged, long at peace with the decisions depression had guided.

"You also spend a ridiculous amount of time every day training." Issy added with a half-glare.

"This is also true." I acknowledged. "About 3 hours a day of mixed cardio, body weight and resistance exercises, and martial arts."

"On his rest days, he goes on a three hour walk." Issy snarked, speaking to Leanna, but pointing her ire at me.

"I get stiff if I don't move enough." I shrugged nonchalantly back at her, my exercise being a longstanding annoyance of hers. "And I have to be able to contain any heroes who come by at any time without killing them."

"They're planning to drop a targeted nuke on your base." Leanna blurted out.

"I know." I replied.

"Today!" Leanna added.

"I know." I pushed my mug away a bit and leaned back on my hands. "My people will be clearing out of the upper levels soon, just in case."

Herbert poked his head thorugh the door, saying only, "it's time."

"My people will be clearing out now." I addended. "You'll either want to go with Herbert, or head out. You won't want to be here." I got to my feet and stretched, then waved the girls to stand as well.

Issy reached over and grabbed Leanna's hand, tugging her towards Herbert.

Leanna started to follow, looking like her head was spinning with the information I'd given her.

I reached over and caught Leanna's arm. When her eyes met mine, I flicked mine towards Issy, then placed the words take care of her in her head. She looked taken aback, then nodded.

As Issy and Leanna were led to the well-shielded areas below, I took the stairs to the roof. It was time to retire.

What only those who are completley trusted know - and we'd used me and the others who kept taking their doses to figure out how to selectively unlock abilities, so our most committed members were all telepaths - is that I am not the head of the organization. I am the face. The villain everybody knows about. The one everybody blames. I am the one heroes try to kill.

And I am tired.

Today, our compound will be razed to the ground, all lives lost.

In ten years, or fifteen, or five, somebody will realize that people are trying to pick up where "my" organization left off, and another face will rise. Another villain will take the stage and dance with death again and again.

Someday, maybe, the last true villain will lay dead. The last liar who will rile up the masses with hyperbole and falsehoods just for views and fame will be a bloody smear on the ground. The last vestiges of corporate and personal greed that leave others hungry while food lies rotting and poisoned in dumpsters, leaves people cold in the rain while apartments lie empty, their prices too high for anyone to actually rent, will be erased from this planet.

Someday, maybe, my daughter won't need armed guards when she marries her partner. For now, though, I know that, whether I live or die today, whether I can control this blast while stopping the knife I'm pretty sure will be planted in my back or not, if she needs those guards, she will have them.

[deleted]

Dragonborn confirmed

In some ways this scares me more tbh

I just awaken aware of mi situation, as if the question of what my punishment should be was implanted in my head beforehand, ready to be answer, but my first reaction to it was to analyse the situation, as the man of science I once was "Is reasonable to asume that anything I might choose will be twisted into a punishment equally harsh as any other possible punishment, right?

The devil, that only seemed to manifest as an abstract concept in my head replied "You will not find that answer from me", answer that did make sense, ending any uncertainty will be a form of relief, I thought.

I keep thinking "to ask to end my existence in any possible form would mean no possible pain or misery, but I can assume as a fact that that wish, as any other wish will be twisted into a terrible punishment", "If I ask, as my desire for eternity an answer to any question is logical to assume the answer itself will haunt me as much as any other punishment, as well as that I don't know if I could act in any form based on said answer"

The presence of the demon loomed on the back of my mind as an abstract thought of fear, a reminder of my doom, and my first analytical reaction started to fade away as I realize the fact that I was in hell, or that it even existed for the matter.

"I wasn't a bad person in life, why did I end here?",I thought, "that's a question for you to answer", Said the demon, "how bad could I have been? I just wanted to help everyone" "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" "Please, I couldn't have known" "you should have, in fact, you always knew" "please, what happen if I choose for you to repare what I did?" "Your wishes can't affect the mortal's world, you wanted to play god and now you have to abstain to the consequences" Then I understood, that's my punishment for play god, I have the power of a good on myself, power that if used will bring eternal pain upon me, and I always will be free to use it, a forever existing possibility to escape this eternal void into something much worse.

Are you talking about the show Lucifer, or something else?

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This almost read like Douglas Adams

[deleted]

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"Heaven? Whatever gave you the idea you were in Heaven, Mr. Valentine? This is the other place!"

Greeting, writer

We thank you for removing SCP-682 from the wiki but we did not realize your ‘alternative’ account would also need removed. We plead that you also remove SCP-682 from your ‘SCP Rule 34 fan-fiction account.’

The ability to ‘adapt to any position’ is somehow even more disturbing than her/his original abilities. Our physiologists are concerned about your and by extension our health.

O5-1

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you can train yourself to react to experiences and feel emotions differently, it just takes a while. you can use attention-based mental exercises as well as perception/emotion training. classical conditioning also helps (like in this case).

from my reading of this afterlife, it's less about punishment and more about sorting people by virtue. why exactly would you need to do that, who knows.

The hero staggered, exhausted, bleeding from a dozen wounds. The villain grinned and brandished his sword preparing to swing the final blow and end yet another foolish crusade.

The blow never fell, it was like some form of paralysis gripped the villain, he couldn’t even move his eyeballs. If that wasn’t disconcerting enough it was like all sound had fled the world, right down to the buzzing of the bees on nearby wildflowers. Not surprising really as through the dark fog that suddenly blanketed the world he could see the bees were frozen too.

Not so the hero, he was rigid below the waist but his hands twitched and his eyes flicked about rapidly as if seeing some kind of vision. He suddenly reached into the tiny satchel at his belt and fetched out a whole roast chicken; It was piping hot and full of stuffing. While the rest of the world was frozen about him the hero ate.

He didn’t stop there, after the chicken was consumed he pulled out a wheel of cheese from the satchel that had already been too small to contain the chicken. Again the terrible sound, the gnashing of teeth and the slapping of lips and tongue, made all the worse for being the only sound in the muffled and dulled world.

It was as the hero produced a second wheel of cheese. The villain noticed that the terrible wounds were knitting back together, as they the blood disappeared from his skin and soaked back out of his clothes. Even the broken links in his armour and the cuts in leather and cloth fixed themselves.

Finally the hero reached deep into his bag and produced a melon. He ate it like it was nothing tougher than a sweet roll. His teeth crunching through rind and wet pink flesh alike.

When the melon was gone, pips and all the hero had a satisfied looking on his face and smirked as light and sound rushed back into the world and a blow that had been hanging frozen in time was easily blocked by arms that had regained all their strength and vigour.

The villain wanted to run, his ears were still ringing with the terrible smacking of lips, he could not though. Even as his bowels quivered and loosened at the monstrosity the hero had been revealed to be, the compulsion to fight bound him as tightly as the spell that has stolen most of the light and sound from the world.

Just as the villain was prepared to throw himself at the hero again in a punishing flurry of moves the hero crouched and…

What was he doing? There had been a sound he came to investigate, he remembered that much, there should be something here in-front of him, but when he concentrated his head just got fuzzy.

“Must have been the wind,” he said out loud though no one was in earshot.

The villain sheathed his sword and headed back towards the fire. Something was bothering him but he couldn’t place it, he could just hear the echoes of gnashing teeth and smacking lips, he shivered as he sat down on his log and held his hands up to the heat.

Thunk.