/lit/ - Literature

>>14355984
Its crazy to me how men develop a style when they're fifteen and then do their bast to make as few adjustments as possible as they age.

did New Sincerity begin with Mein Kampf?

>>14356015
Men find what they want while women want what they find.

She's fallen?

>>14355984
Wasn't she a fat and older singer?

>>14356147
that's Susan Boyle

>>14355984
New sincerity doesn’t solve the problem of ideology so it’s bunk. You can’t discount reflectiveness and doubt altogether. At best we ought to have a cautious self-confidence in our beliefs.

>>14355984
sincerity minus effort is as good as the last shit I took and it was a wet one

>>14355984
Look man look
Naw
Haha
No no nah nah
I be
Nah man
It ain't be like that
Naw nah nah
Nono lemme
Nono I'ma
Ima tell you
No nah
I be like
I be like that girl sure being sincere bout dem ribs yo
AaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAaAAAaA
Yeah yeah man she ain't no normal white girl
Nah she fine man she good she athletic but still thicc, got the good adipose.
Yeah yeah she thicc for a cave girl
You know what
You know what
Hahahaha
No man no no no
No you know her people ain't supposed see sunlight. I think the sun was like evil to them, white people, like pre-ancient mayo bulbs saw the sun as judgement punishing them for their pervesities
Oh amen to that shiiit
Them cauca-
Yeah them caucasoi-
Damn caucasoids and they busted ass fetishes and shit, fuck nigga

>>14356131
Felled to a more thankful sober life of chutes and ladders and vegan Mac n' "cheez" recipe chitchat

"New Sincerity" is just code for mediocrity mixed with naïvete. There is nothing "new" about it. It's literally just juvenilia masquerading as a "movement."

>>14358129
Eat some jarred prunes, boomer

I love Megan, I really do. I seriously think we'd be great friends if we ever met. I could listen to her speak about even the most mundane things for an unlimited amount of time.

>>14358129
Based. New Sincerity is a forced meme.
>>14358145
Cringe. Someday you'll move on from
>muh irony
>muh sincerity

>>14358363
She would get annoyed of your listening.

>>14358390
I'll never move on from Megan Boyle being fun af to read

>>14358561
She'd never get tired of the abundant reflexology on tap when she adopts a few Anons to cloister with her during her next creative endeavor

>>14358129
The fans who show support in these threads are always vapid. Same thing with Tao Lin.

>>14359467
Your vapid is showing, dowel-puss

>>14355984
;_;7

>>14359467
It's true. Just look at >>14359414 who defends Boyle by saying her brainless scribbling is "fun af." Intellectual poverty.

>>14359436
This. I want a crew shirt that reads "Property of Megan Boyle Reflexology Department, 2013"

>>14359504
>Pedants raging at the pithy
Literi never change

>>14358129

i think you're right. everyone in these threads is a typical yuppie from an upper middle class to rich family, living off of their parent's dime in perpetual adolescence. theres zero heart to be found

>>14359504
>Pedants raging at the pithy

>>14359514
>yuppie
We'd all use that boomerism if reverse mortgages were as heavily marketed to us too. Don't feel too bad, Anon.

>>14359494
>dowel-puss
can I get a vocabulary check on this one reddit

>>14359508
Can someone (Megan) make this happen? It'd sure be a #takemymoney kind of product, haha

>>14359414
bars mang, our Meggo slangs, outright sprankling slangery, no slapdash, no slipping

>>14355984
She is probably the most favored student of Professor Wallace. Some of us, the sincerely sensitive ones, we can not merely feel Professor Wallace's presence floating somewhere out of sight directly above and behind us but rather also hear him at all hours perennially deep in monologueal prattle, muttering, fippering, middling pontificating, droopy diatribes, and largely uninterruptible unless we hazard some sort of screw up that would immediately and reflexively jar translucent rippling Professor Wallace from these holy mantras whereupon he would deliver an honest and forthright critique with a candor mustered somewheres between tender and curt, almost always using an emotionally charged matrilineal parable. And if somehow we manage a response or probe or even, and these are quite rare given the deep limbic effects inevitable to the thunderous echos of Professor Wallace, even your best rejoinders receive an immediate rhetorical counter always sprankled with empathic acuity and you will be laid low and on your argumentative behind like a sensei toppling a till snatcher, whether it was all about finer points of grammar or fiction or musicality or else the cultural purchase of your whole "schtick" as he's been saying lately, 'it's all important' he would implore.

>>14355984
How ironic.

>>14357573
It's a reaction to the layered gen X irony shit that crept into marketing in the 90s.

I think it's interesting to consider the idea of novelty in the mind of the well-fed addiction-conditioned mind. Perhaps Megan's downward spiral was itself an initiatory rite into this new frame or reference, sobriety the canvas, the enveloping dish. Without it, she could not understand the sincere. It was obstructed by her default programming. Is that the case with the rest of us?

>>14361388
If postmodernism is a subversive destabilizing investigative process, I think "sincerity" is a countervailing process of reconstitution, revalidating, if only temporarily and for emergent reasons, coherences new and old.

>>14355984
Is this good angling or was DFW genuinely handsome at one point? I can't tell, I've watched a few of his interviews and he always looked like a flabby faggot. Maybe it's the black shirt.

>>14361772
He was gifted a physique and conditioned himself to athletic training, especially compared to contemporary slobs. DT Maxx's telling portrays regular exercise as part of healthy DFW's self maintenance, although he was rarely healthy

>>14359922
I bunked with Megan in Annapolis, both of us having spent less than a week in the Naval Academy's illustrious, intricate Bancroft Hall before a pair of Master-at-Arms arrived at around zero three hundred to help us pack and speedily transported us almost wordlessly but for their simultaneous and tenderly voiced, "watch your steps," before determinedly driving us in spare white vans half an hour from Annapolis and into a special housing solution accessed along some winding pre-modern Appalachian redbout that quickly gave way to the strippling and viney bushes and arbor danced flutters cinematic behind our sped windows. I remember those willowy wrists and knees darkening suddenly as in a theatre, just as we entered the mountain maw, unforgettable especially was Megan wiping her sweaty sanguine palms on her ascetic gray athleticwear before seizing my hand as the bedrock swallowed the light behind us, incaverning until luminous crimson man-made beams calmed our nerves and encircled our vehicle's corkscrewing descent that took some fifteen centripetal and claustrophobic minutes as we turned and whisked deeper into barely red-hued spiralling darkness.
Therein was hosted a special dormitory solution configured for the optimal mental health of the "projectors" and support staff engaged in what was dubbed in the formal process manuals as "strategic visualization," "special sight," or "ensighting" or "sight-validated" information, where I was able to excel for some time and make a short and very obscure career in one of the least exciting billets. Megan's scores were great, however, and I know she had a few selections to choose from. Deep Sea was recruiting aggressively for Megan, I know that much. They offered her six figures, a personal assistant, a 24/7 on-call personal chef, her own "indwelling cabin girl" to help with laundry, hygiene and room cleanliness, let alone a 12K travel stipend to be used every two years of service, and I'm sure way more than Megan dazily recounted to me at whatever groggy subteranean breakfast of restaurant-pan depth "breakfast lasagna" so predominant and fashionable with the Atkins-influenced Navy diets during our time, a bit before it caught on in the broader culture. And Megan turned all of this down, she told me, twirling an egg-strewn sausage hunk in her scratch-matted metal fork, "because it sounded boring."
If you want to know what I think, and you don't have to believe me, but I've known plenty of people who fit Megan's pattern and were recruited by Naval Special Projects for one of their dolphin-helmeted experiments probing abyssal nethercurrents, tuning to a kind of transitive backdoor behind which lurks the so formulated "dark matter," that in a psionic context becomes a medium for traversal through which the so sighted can float and report, rediscovering in a form of sapient perception unknown to the earth for maybe thousands of years and perhaps only ever reborn in rare shamanistic geniuses.

>>14359922
I bunked with Megan in Annapolis, both of us having spent less than a week in the Naval Academy's illustrious, intricate Bancroft Hall before a pair of Master-at-Arms arrived at around zero three hundred to help us pack and speedily transported us almost wordlessly but for their tenderly voiced, "watch your steps," before determinedly driving us in spare white vans half an hour from Annapolis and into a special housing solution accessed along some winding pre-modern Appalachian redbout that quickly gave way to the strippling and viney bushes and arbor danced flutters cinematic behind our sped windows. I remember those willowy wrists and knees darkening suddenly as in a theatre, just as we entered the mountain maw, unforgettable especially was Megan wiping her sweaty sanguine palms on her ascetic gray athleticwear before seizing my hand as the bedrock swallowed the light behind us, incaverning us whole a few moments before a luminous crimson man-made lumens calmed our nerves and forecircled our vehicle's corkscrewing descent that took some fifteen centripetal and claustrophobic minutes as we turned and whisked deeper into barely red-hued spiralling darkness.
Therein hosted a special dormitory configured for the optimal performance of the "projectors" and support staff engaged in what was dubbed in the process manuals as "strategic visualization," "special sight," or "ensighting" or "sight-validated" information, a specialty where I was able to excel and make a short and obscure career in one of the least risky billets. Megan's scores were great, however, and I know she had a few selections to choose from. Deep Sea was recruiting aggressively for Megan, I know that much. They offered her six figures, a personal assistant, a 24/7 on-call personal chef, her own "indwelling cabin girl" to help with laundry, hygiene and room cleanliness, let alone a 12K travel stipend to be used every two years of service, and I'm sure way more than Megan dazily recounted to me at whatever groggy subterranean breakfast of restaurant-pan depth "breakfast lasagna" so predominant and fashionable with the Atkins-influenced Navy diets during our time, a bit before it caught on in the broader culture. And Megan turned all of this down, she told me, twirling an egg-strewn sausage hunk in her scratch-matted metal fork, "because it sounded weird."
If you want to know what I think, and you don't have to believe me, but I've known plenty of people who fit Megan's pattern and were recruited by Naval Special Projects for one of their dolphin-helmeted experiments probing abyssal nethercurrents terran and Jovian, vigilantly tuning ("Deus Aurem Audiat") to a type of transitive backdoor behind which lurks the so formulated "dark matter," which in a psionic context becomes a medium for traversal through which the so sighted and trained can float and report, rediscovering a form of sapient perception unknown to the earth for maybe thousands of years.

Age at first time: 18 years, 4 months, 2 weeks, 0 days
Age at present: 23 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, 2 days
Total penetrative sex partners: 21
Total males: 21
Total females: 2 (2 not mentioned, I'm not sure they count as sex, it was just making out and fingering)
Total oral sex partners: 20-30
Oral sex giving to receiving ratio: 9:3 (probably)
Total official relationships: 4
Total ambiguous relationships: 9
Total one night stands: 11
Total partners I've said "I love you" to: 3, and maybe two .5's
Total partners who have said "I love you" to me: 3.5
Alcohol involved in first sexual encounter: 13
Marijuana involved in first sexual encounter: 2
Total STD's: 0
Total pregnancies: 0
Butt sex: 0
Came on my face: 0
Came on my tits/stomach/back/ass: 2+
Asked beforehand: 2
Places I've had sex: All rooms a house can have (not counting the garage), car, on a blanket under a tree, the woods, public bathroom, maybe - probably, laundry room, trampoline, started to on the top/roof of a construction site at night (he was not a construction worker).

>>14361772
No. Maybe if he lost weight and got a haircut he would be average

>that video of Tao dry humping her

>>14362139
I wonder if she showered more as a result of her devotion to DFW who was kind of a student of the shower

>>14359504
imagine being this much of a sour puss. somebody wring out this stinky sock and send it down the chute

>>14358390
someday you'll move on from
>muh based
>muh cringe

"You're very fit for your age-range."

"Thank you. I've always enjoyed exercise-"

"Most Americans your age, they are wrecks." the doctor hunched his back and drooped his arms forward as a terminally listing might shamble.

"Yeah, there are some bad examples out there."

"You lucky you're here in this program, else you'd be out there, 'ho-ing it up,' the doctor chuckled. "Or on the feeder pipeline to the brap barn."

"I'm pretty thankful to make it this far, yeah."

"Do you do drugs?"

"No, I've been sober for four decades and five years now."

"What were you addicted to?"

"Uh, uhm, well, various things. Why?"

"No reason, just curious. Millenial women are so damaged."

"Yeah, we're wrecks, alright."

"It's not their fault. I am sorry. I am too jocular my colleagues tell me. I'm a history nerd as you might coin it."

"Oh, uh, oh cool, that's interesting."

>>14355984
Isn’t it just romanticism for atomised midwits?

how is hitting the wall handled in megan's book? does she go into any introspection about her objectification as a woman?

>>14355984
Megan can you please publish a prescriptive calendar thematic to Liveblog?

>>14363220
She was never attractive or intelligent

Meggos mincing tours seven cities
Blistering, bandaging all ten piggies
Canals her trash tray, ashing her ciggies
Extra safe males join groupies of hippies

>>14363755
Morning cafe chatter, Maghreb biddies
Slow adult sons fixate on her tiddies
Dispensed favors smiled "No biggies!"
Kabob enough to share with the kitties

Megan was our floor’s sit-up championess for as long as she bunked there. When she started sleeping in the quarters beside the float tanks, the winner changed by the week and the winning count dropped by a count of two-hundred or so. I was the new guy on a “tank crew,” a team of ten who monitor and support the Sighted Projector whenever they’re floating and operating as well as helping them immediately upon their wobbly return to bipedal life the moment they plant a shaky drippy step on the plush padding outside their ovular tank's curved hatch.
In that moment it's not at all unusual for even experienced projectors to, upon snapping rudely back into their flesh-bound mortalities experience a wrenching existential woe that loses bladders and bowels in overwhelming waves of sapient nausea. People describe the feeling as trying to either shit out the dread or else to leave the corrupted human as the eliminations themselves, hoping animate feces might serve as a less morally entangled and evilly inclined creature. But nearly the same as the vestibular system’s righting eases the wobbles, so too does a similar ticker’s resolution fix the dread, but it can take up to a minute for the Projector’s mind to equilibrate in this manner. Rushing in to scoop, wipe, dab and console, a tank crew is sometimes simply a highly practiced team that’s very, very procedural about cleaning unspeakably disgusting laundry and several times a day fully manipulating the fussy, limp frame of a hypoglycemic Projector utterly sick of, for example, the orange energy gel and with every moment of delay grows petechiae-paintingly pissy at there being no berry flavored alternatives. They grow equally angry at the tank crew’s complicity in their restricted diet that denies any meat, any animal protein, at least during operations.
I never saw Megan like that, however. And she never lost control of her body or her temper. Even after projecting for more than a day at a time which wasn't unusual for the tempo of those days, and after all that she could still gingerly emerge, carefully planting herself sturdy and standing outside the tank, slowly outstretching her arms to signal our studious toweling and buffing her dry starting at her lithe extremities. She was wirey yet waify, a kind of mighty fairy and would traipse around her four-room quarters with one of her frogman-style shorts snugly abloom her hips, snacking upon the foods we tried to keep in hot, brimming quantities to meet her most pitiless appetites. It's not unusual for an operating Projector to require an excess of ten thousand kilocalories a day, so we had our work cut out for us. Thankfully, Megan was a great eater, and quite funny to be around. As you might imagine, many of the Projectors are gifted but humorless.

which character is she in taepei

Megantula's six legs
Guard athousand such eggs
Where Arachnophile begs
Summon turvy femme pegs

>>14364741
Erin

>>14364761
What did Megan smell like, Tao?

>>14359705
W O K E

"Who-who are you?"

"Ima- I'm a fan."

"Is that blood?"

"Oh, shit, no, yes, yeah, sorry, yes, it is. But not mine."

"Where is everyone else? Oh my god-"

"Yeah-"

"The sounds-"

"Yeah."

"Was that gunfire?"

"Theirs, yeah."

"Can you please shoot me?"

"No, Professor Wallace, I'm sorry, but no, I won't do that. I'm here to get you out of this sicko illuminatus basement."

"Let me make it simple for you Ms. Boyle. You bring back your hardware immediately and then maybe you can get uploaded to a cosy cyber hospice like every other normal person. Let the algorithm do your purgatory and we'll never cross paths again."

"Ok."

"'OK,' what? What is 'OK?"

"I-"

"Mohammad-in-Aisha, I swear Millennial Mumble is a dialect."

"Hey...Hey, that's pretty funny."

"Oh, and, Ms. Boyle, the funniest courier-critic of darkmesh circuits, you've been green-lighted, Ms. Boyle. Life will be very different from this point forward."

"Well, my balls in your mouth will be very different from this point forward."

"You are only making this worse on yourself, you dumb ginger bitch. You ever see one of those severed cyber limbs arc? You can leave quite a mark with those exposed ends. And I look forward to reclaiming every ounce of electronics currently blinking inside your dense bitch head."

"Oh, do you have more boytoys to send my way? I broke the others."

"Fuck you."

"I'm just saying, I thought you ran out. You short on coin after the market dipped?"

"You think you're so god damned funny, you fucking carrot-topped toaster."

>"Hello, Mrs. Boyle, this is Patty Mable from Device Compliance calling about your Jarvik Ninety-Nine Auxiliary Cardiac-Pump with Ureter-threaded Nephrology Module. We saw one of its gyros and pumps were acting kinda funny and we can't fix them remotely. Normally these wouldn't concern us, but they can make you vulnerable to some of the remote access techniques native to Chinatowns, where it looks like you unfortunately work every day of the week. Sorry to be that person, but we do occasional geographic and social audits of all our devices and I'm only speaking out of concern for your safety, and the good name of our device that's currently in your body. And I'm sorry, Ms. Boyle, before I leave you a long and convoluted message, I want to emphasize that your device is working perfectly and we love to see how much you exercise. You really should do one of those big bike races, the Tour de France or something, *chuckles*
But if you would please Boop me back at your earliest convenience I would love to schedule a device juvenation appointment with some one of the certified cyberneticists local to your area. Thank you for your time and have a great day with your Jarvik Ninety-Nine!"

>"Hello, Mrs. Boyle, this is Patty Mable from Device Compliance calling about your Jarvik Ninety-Nine Auxiliary Cardiac-Pump with Ureter-threaded Nephrology Module. We saw one of its gyros and pumps were acting kinda funny and we can't fix them remotely. Normally these wouldn't concern us, but they can make you vulnerable to some of the remote access techniques native to Chinatowns, where it looks like you unfortunately work every day of the week. Sorry to be that person, but we do occasional geographic and social audits of all our devices and I'm only speaking out of concern for your safety, and the good name of our device that's currently in your body. And I'm sorry, Ms. Boyle, before I leave you a long and convoluted message, I want to emphasize that your device is working perfectly and we love to see how much you exercise. You really should do one of those big bike races, the Tour de France or something, *chuckles*
>But if you would please Boop me back at your earliest convenience I would love to schedule a device juvenation appointment with some one of the certified cyberneticists local to your area. Thank you for your time and have a great day with your Jarvik Ninety-Nine!"

>>14366321
"Hello, Mrs Boyle. I'm Patty Mable for Device Compliance calling about your Jarvik Ninety-Nine Auxiliary Cardiac-Pump with Ureter-threaded Nephrology Module device. There are several parts that haven't received their updates and we are concerned about keeping everything running at optimal performance, you included! We would really like to schedule an in-person appointment to evaluate and repair any issues we discover, even if they are asymptomatic or otherwise benign. We do have a responsibility to keep our device working to the best of our understanding and that can change as the device learns your body and lifestyle. So these visits are more frequent than you might think.
>We just want to get something on the books so we don't have to worry about warranty issues or, and I see from your payor that this is government-owned material? We are legally obligated by the United States Government to ensure the good faith high performance of all auxiliaries, augmentations, upgrades, upticks and post-biological enhancements and if we do not hear from you before next Tuesday, you will be in violation of the USG regulations overseeing all cybernetic maintenance agreements. This may affect your reimbursement or employment eligibility. I don't know the particulars, but that's why we really want to resolve this quickly to avoid any of that, which I can't do anything about. I can only help us schedule an eval and repair. So, please, Mrs. Boyle at your earliest convenience, please send me a Boop, I'm available on Boop for many hours of the day and you can always send me a Boopage and I can Boople on over to you unless I'm on a call with another client. You're on a long list *chuckle* Anyways, please call me, Mrs. Boyle. Have a good day."

>>14366321
>"Hello, Mrs Boyle. I'm Patty Mable for Device Compliance calling about your Jarvik Ninety-Nine Auxiliary Cardiac-Pump with Ureter-threaded Nephrology Module device. There are several parts that haven't received their updates and we are concerned about keeping everything running at optimal performance, you included! We would really like to schedule an in-person appointment to evaluate and repair any issues we discover, even if they are asymptomatic or otherwise benign. We do have a responsibility to keep our device working to the best of our understanding and that can change as the device learns your body and lifestyle. So these visits are more frequent than you might think.
>We just want to get something on the books so we don't have to worry about warranty issues or, and I see from your payor that this is government-owned material? We are legally obligated by the United States Government to ensure the good faith high performance of all auxiliaries, augmentations, upgrades, upticks and post-biological enhancements and if we do not hear from you before next Tuesday, you will be in violation of the USG regulations overseeing all cybernetic maintenance agreements. This may affect your reimbursement or employment eligibility. I don't know the particulars, but that's why we really want to resolve this quickly to avoid any of that, which I can't do anything about. I can only help us schedule an eval and repair. So, please, Mrs. Boyle at your earliest convenience, please send me a Boop, I'm available on Boop for many hours of the day and you can always send me a Boopage and I can Boople on over to you unless I'm on a call with another client. You're on a long list *chuckle* Anyways, please call me or Boop me soon, Mrs. Boyle. Have a good day."

>>14358106
good stuff

>>14355984
>I know cops are killing innocent blacks and that's bad but I just want to win a little bit
>Gender is a social construct but that just made it harder for me to choose between the 39
>Hey, look big guy, I'm still here for you, you know very well the best I can do is think about you from time to time my guy, I suppose I owe you that much, in this day and age we're pretty much the same you and I, alright God?
>In hell (dimension) being tortured, imagining a hell(conceptual) where I will be punished for eternity, if I don't approach the the way of torture the right way

>>14366381
>Hi, Ms. Boyle? My name is Cassie Hemabaum from Device Compliance for your Jarvik Ninety Nine, and I'm calling to apologize for a message we left on your phone earlier where we mis-titled you based on a typo in a memorandum I sent to Security on your behalf. Although your devices appear to be functioning at their utmost, we are always cautious about the potential for remote access to our technologies. We know unauthorized access to your organs can drastically impact your life and we want to try and stay ahead of that by keeping our software updates current, even if we have to upload ourselves, which is what I find I often have to do. If you want, I'd be happy to Boopeo you through the process and you can run a diagnostics and repair utility in the privacy of your own home. That way you can avoid having to come in to one of our clinics. I just wanted to let you know about that option. So please call me, Ms. Boyle, and thank you for using Jarvik!

I find it a testament to Megan Boyle's talent and integrity that there is no evidence she ever played a ukulele or attempted music

>>14366758
She sings a fair amount.

>>14366774
Everybody sings

>>14355984
>https://believermag.com/megan-boyle-in-conversation-with-megan-boyle/
I think this is a great example of the post-Liveblog Boyle, tirelessly forthright, honest to the extents of her composure, unrelentingly critical of her self, but uprighted by not only her being saved thus far but from also discovering a new agency, a new and improved Megan better adept at tackling things new and old.

DJ, drop that beat for AOC's feet
Cripwalking, merengueing, no crease no pleat
Smoovely she shucks, orthopedic fashion
Outta her green juice, AOC kinda ashen
Megan steamed towels, sliced citrus bouquet
"So many Latinx piggies, ten toe feast days!"
AOC's pinto cheeks blush adobo
Megan's waxing the lady bobobo

DJ, drop that beat for AOC's feet
Cripwalking, merengueing, no crease no pleat
Smoovely she shucks, orthopedic fashion
Outta her green juice, AOC kinda ashen
Megan steamed towels, sliced citrus bouquet
"So many Latinx piggies, ten toe feast days!"
AOC's pinto cheeks blush adobo
Megan's waxing the lady bonobo

"So, is it true I can select certain details of my cybernetics?"

"Aesthetic, stylistic elements, yes, generally those are handled via an ethnographically aligned template, but there we can permit you to peruse the catalog of traits available to your systems."

"That would be awesome."

"Some of these upgrades are pricey, so your patrons might balk about heptadactyly and the Derringer Defense stuff. It's all top notch, high quality Japanese manufacturing. They don't export many of those materials but because we're owned by Tonkatsu Prefecture, it's an internal inventory."

"Wow, that's really neat."

"Cool huh?"

"Yeah- I really appreciate it."

"Not just a doctor, I'm a cyberpunk smuggler, huh?" the doctor's shoulder's shook as a restrained laugh was sent into his chest by a grimacing and tucked chin.

"You're pretty larger than life to me. These are, like, thousands of pages."

"Oh! Thank you. Those are just for, let me see, Hand, Fore-elbow, Shoulder, Neuro. We are doing gastro, no?"

"Wha-gastro?"

"Yeah, best tummy tuck in the world," the doctor found this really funny too.

"I'm pretty fit, to be honest, I was hoping maybe just for the limb cybernetics. I'm pretty healthy, and everything, even if I'm maybe a few pounds over now."

"Yes, yes, I understand. You want new cybernetic limbs but they are not like your human arms." The doctor drooped and dangled limply his human arms as to emphasize a fundamental uselessness. "But the new arms take incredible amounts of energy, multiples of your current. You will be catatonic and exhausted after warm up exercises if you do not upgrade your energy systems."

"Ok so, so-s-so, so what does, what does that mean then? Am I getting a fuel cell or-"

"No more human food."

"Ok, I don-"

"I cannot sign off on you getting quadruple extremity enhancements without supporting systems. These things could kill you, you know. How will your body be able to tell the fancy cyborg wrist it's not as important as the human brain?"

"Wait, why doesn't it just know it's a wrist and it isn't important."

"Synthetic geneses trick, makes the machine fight to to stay alive above all design constraints. It was a design process begun right after a synthetic overhaul of our manufacturing had us inventing all those inexplicably shaped devices. Our limbs couldn't just have high up time. They needed to fight to survive. That's how you get to ninety nines!"

"That's really neat, but I'm really in a mild panic right now. I'm sorry, you said quadruple?"

"Yes, full arm, full leg, upgraded hips, spinal column, some unspecified stuff."

"I just thought I was going to fucking play geriatric sports."

"Oh, yeah, well, it seems you would be a bit over built for that."

"No food as in i'll never taste food again?"

"Not for the foreseeable future, no-"

Megan was gripped in dread, foolish dread. What even is this? She just wanted greater mobility and would let them tattoo their sponsors on her and wear more swimwear on her social media.

>>14366758
megan boyle is just tao lin without a penis so she has to put less effort into her autistic bullshit for people to give her (You)s. that's why they're perfect for each other.

CMV

"Ok, smartass. I'll make this real simple for you." Gideon's bald head was flush with his poorly bottled fury.

"You either get into that flophouse and bring me this man's head or I'll have your expensive bullshit parted and parceled out across thirty motor couriers before the sun rises."

"How many of your own assassins do you end up killing as a part of your standard training process?"

"Do you really think that's an innocent man in there? That he's just unlucky to have found himself on my shitlist?" Gideon's knocking of his armored plates clanged his emphasis on how unlikely it might be.

"I think it's important to point out that there's literally no due process. You just want me to walk in to a peaceful, unsuspecting place of refuge for other people and violently dismember someone?"

"Do you want me to prepare a dossier for you? I'm so sorry, Megan, did you need a juice box and some pictures of the victims?"

"I'm not-no, I'm-"

"You don't even fucking know do you? You're just saying shit! Fuck!"

"No, Gideon, I-"

"You fucking Americans. Unbelievable."

"Look, Gideon-"

"Why are you here? Did you think this was a potluck club? Did we lacrosse together?"

"However you plan your meal time get togethers is on you, I just don't want to murder someone."

"Oh for fucks sake. Do you think you got those materials so you could make sushi rolls?"

"I was thinking maybe an animal surgeon."

"I am literally speechless and you are going to blow this entire fucking op."

"Gideon, I just want to do what's right."

"We were inserted from fucking space, you crazy bitch. Are you missing oxygen? Did you forget a tank?"

"I-"

"FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, MOVE YOUR ASS, MOVE YOUR ASS, MEGAN"

"Gideon, I'm standing right in front of you, I don't need to raise my voice and neither do you. We can talk this through and maybe I will do what you want but it will be because we agree it is the right thing."

"Megan, Dearie, when you have problems, cleaning problems, clients prefer that we handle these things with the utmost speed."

"Even if-"

"Right now Maitresse Zanadoo or whoever is up there pacing in her astrologically coordinated robe and fanning burning sage and cannabis, and she just wants to know this little rat is gone and any of his friends understand that his sins were so great they might need a drastic direction in life."

"Ok-"

"O-K?

"Ok."

"Ok, Megan, so if you don't do something about our client's problem, you are permitting to operate a very, very shitty situation. That is why we're the cleaners, right?"

"Yeah, ok, yeah, I think I get it better."

"You think you get it now?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, for sure, I think."

>>14368216
"So, because you Millennial types need it all spelled out, if you do not impress the fuck out of me, I'm going to write up that you are a whiny bitch who should be parted out and chemically composted."

"I'm the whiny one who hasn't raised her voice, hasn't threatened anyone-"

"Megan, are you going to enlist as this monster's legal defense fund manager or-"

"No, no, I'm on it. Give me a minute."

very schizo thread i continue to be impressed

I BOUGHT Liveblog, PAID for it with my own hard earned Cash. You can't say I'm not a fan, I bet you more people have read Megan Boyle than have bought her book. That puts me in the innermost circle, concentric-wise. So will I read it? Speaking as her innermost fan, it's none of your God-Damn buisness.

"Can you change the nail colors?"

"Great question! For these models, the S, the KL and the Y pools of products come with a full spectra of socially normative flesh-tones, and you can always purchase color suites from either us or any of the cyber-aesthetician vendors in our developer community."

"I thought there were some that could change to any color, pattern, the chameleon skin commercial, you know?"

"Oh, yes, the C series is over here and the X and L pools are also nearby. Did you have a price range?"

"No limit."

"No limit, huh? Lucky girl."

"Well, I'm kinda conflicted. They're my hands and feet, you know?"

"Yes, I know, but these models are so amazing-"

"I mean, I know I don't look like much to you, you're what, nineteen?"

"I'm twenty three, going to the Medical School."

"Oh, neat, that's great. Really cool!"

"Yeah, i think so. Thanks."

"It just seems so extreme and wasteful. To just replace your body like that."

"You know, I know exactly what you mean though. I personally really do love my own hands and feet, but if, Goddess forbid, anything happened, these models are amazing. I could have had like a sports scholarship!"

"Are they that good?"

"Oh yeah, these limbs are ruining tennis. They say pretty soon, it will just be headless prongs of metal flinging the ball back and forth."

>>14368400
too tryhard for me, i really hate the guy's writing style. but i hesitate to critique it because he already responds to being ignored by doubling down on it and writing 500 more of them, or making 500 more fake twitter posts and spamming them constantly

maybe it's just me but i don't find the "overwrought on purpose, so zany" thing to be instantly funny. you can do it, but it has to be well done. some of OP's read like someone trying to imitate this style for the sake of imitating it

i feel bad saying this because i don't want to bully OP but i do want to give constructive criticism

>>14368514
im op i didnt write any of that. i just wanted to squeeze a few more yuks out of my photoshop because i spent 2+ hours on it.

megposting is the best thing on /lit/ right now

fucking lönisar jag svär

>>14364741
>>14364761
has anyone ever made a compilation of who in real life the Taipei characters correspond to?

>>14369630
Duderino, I'm genuinely psyched for Leave Society

>>14369663
hell yeah, i hope it comes out next year

Megan squats steep volumes
Perspirant doused dream plumes
Sweaty shimmies, cream blooms
Fabrics drenched by steamed fumes

Meganposting's engrossing
A loathesome encroaching
"Too much!" Is approaching
Such sordid exposing
Another pedant's proposing
Cheered jeers from those loafing
Envy Megan's high roving
Her tea paired composing

Meganplottings afoot
Unwhispered output
Meganplanning commences
"Zero fucks" for consequences

>>14355984
Good morning, Megheads!

Megantudinal turbulence
Psychiatric ambulance
Whimsy lulzy artfulness
Weekending archduchess
Former spouse's herbalist
Megan with her earnestness
Unshy re: forgetfulness
Lists and arrays marvelous
Ginger whisps orgulous
Whithering ordinance
Pondered soul's permanence
Adorbs Meg's nervousness
Thirty-something corpulence
Moistened crusts carbonous
Self-critically merciless
Discretely torturous
Gripped, the exorbitance
Denuded, Novae of Circinus

Puffing, puffing, one more boot blown out
"Nigga chill, gots fo' mo rows, no shoe drought"
Ginger feet make the Mandinkan Man weak
Long thigh-high draws stir stars to speak

“I’m not uploading you into some fucking lie that convinced you it’s a good idea. If I have any power left in this situation, I will exercise it to abstain.”

“But it’s not a lie, Megan. I’m halfway there now anyways.”

“It’s not the holodeck, it won’t even be Second Life.”

“I don’t really know what – oh is that the, oh yeah, ok I get it. No, No, nonono, Megan, listen, Megan, please, my body will lead them to me. They have bolted more new cyber parts to me than you, all of them taggable, traceable. I don’t know why they haven’t just drilled you with a telephone poles worth of tungsten yet, but maybe you really did launder yourself well.”

“It wasn’t free, that’s for sure.”

“You need to jet my cerebral port and then get the fuck out of here, you dumb bitch.”

“Ok.”

“Ok? Maybe move with some haste with your fancy new cyborg self?”

The quaking clamors continued their circuitous lumber, probing the cell site’s myriad transformers capacitors and maintenance shelters for the ingression’s current location. Keeping low to the shadows, Megan noiselessly seized and uncoiled the jet cable, turned the riddled Professor’s head to plug and twist in the pieces finely precise instrumentation, pressing, smashing her lips into the iron and salt of his bloodied stubble, pulling deepest as she could into her sensorium these final elements, the real gem stolen from the cruelty and capriciousness of it all, that she had at least this moment right here, and if a shaped molten fusillade smitherined them both she’d still have won but the Professor jerked and spoke.”

“Thank you, Megan but fuck off and get out of here.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

In the women's quarters of the modern Navy, "commoding" is shorthand for the paired bathrooming female sailors are generally required to undergo, accompanying one another into the double-toileted stall with each goer sharing a single bidet and toilet paper dispenser. The paired bathroom procedure has saved the Navy no small amount of money on. for instance the comparatively large volumes of paper and water used by single-occupant stalls. There was also an immediately apparent reduction in female sailor UTIs and other ailments contributed to by incomplete or erroneous eliminatory hygiene.
Because in the mantras of the Naval enlistees, their toroidal interior guts are owned by and in contractual and honorific service to the Navy, the thorough cleansing of your fellow female sailor helps keep the ship sailing smoothly. Their explusions and runny drips having ceased, one of the pair will rise from her toilet and approach the bidet, squatting her soiled parts best into the trajectory of the warm gentle spout of water she can trigger by a foot or hand pedal. Her "commoder" or "commodee" will reconnoiter the bidet's run-off and report to her bathrooming nautical sister that her tush runs "clean as snowmelt" or "liquid glass" or "Fiji bottled waters" or whatever the hulking RDC-ettes improvised on the day of the commodery drills. You can nearly date and locate the sailors exact training cohorts by these highly transient pedagogical references because the Naval trainers are by policy required to originate and never replicate any and all prior comparison to clean-running bidet flush. Worse, anything that even sounds close or like it might be a copy is considered a mar against the reputation of the Navy and has resulted in the summary and immediate discharge of by now countless RDCs who tried to re-use a "drinking fountain" or drew upon only tiresome variations like a "nice drinking fountain" and "a clean drinking fountain." It all makes for a tense atmosphere but it's for the inculcation of a powerful group psychology and the attentiveness to cleanliness serves that too.
Whenever it happens and however you describe it, when one girl is clean, she will spot for her fellow sailor and give her the "all-clear." Paper wipes are merely used to verify efficacy of the bidet process, where anything north of biege speckle is likely honor-bound to get back under that often times irritatingly gentle and patient bidet stream. More than one sailor have attempted to increase the pressure on the bidet nozzles only to find themselves in uniform violations because of errant wet sprays. It's one of those things you learn to not overthink and just go with the flow. That's what Megan always told me when we commoded together.

In the women's quarters of the modern Navy, "commoding" is shorthand for the paired bathrooming female sailors are generally required to undergo, accompanying one another into the double-toileted stall with each goer sharing a single bidet and toilet paper dispenser. The paired bathroom procedure has saved the Navy no small amount of money on, for instance, the comparatively large volumes of paper and water used by single-occupant stalls. There was also an immediately apparent reduction in female sailor UTIs and other ailments contributed to by incomplete or erroneous eliminatory hygiene. It's one of those odd changes that cannot be undone without basically reinventing the entire institution.
Because in the mantras of the Naval enlistees, their toroidal guts are owned by and in contractual and honorific service to the Navy, the thorough cleansing of your fellow female sailor helps keep the ship sailing smoothly and that makes the greater Navy happy. When both commoding sailors' explusions and runny drips have ceased, one of the pair will rise from her toilet and approach the bidet, squatting her soiled parts best into the trajectory of the gentle spout of water she can trigger by a foot or hand pedal. Her "commoder" or "commodee" will reconnoiter the bidet's run-off and report to her bathrooming sister-at-nautical-arms that her tush runs "clean as snowmelt" or "liquid glass" or "Fiji bottled waters" or whatever the RDC-ettes improvised on the day of their particular commodery drills.
You can nearly date and locate the sailors exact training cohorts by these highly transient pedagogical references because the Naval trainers are by policy required to originate and never replicate any and all prior comparison to clean-running bidet flush. Worse, anything that even sounds close or like it might be a copy is considered a mar against the reputation of the Navy and has resulted in the summary and immediate discharge of by now countless RDCs who tried to re-use a "drinking fountain" or drew upon only tiresome variations like a "nice drinking fountain" and "a clean drinking fountain." It all makes for a tense atmosphere but it's for the inculcation of a powerful group psychology and the attentiveness to cleanliness serves that too.
Whenever it happens and however you describe it, when one girl is clean, she will spot for her fellow sailor and give her the "all-clear." Paper wipes are merely used to verify efficacy of the bidet process, where anything north of biege speckle is likely honor-bound to get back under that often times irritatingly gentle and patient bidet stream. More than one sailor have attempted to increase the pressure on the bidet nozzles only to find themselves in uniform violations because of errant wet sprays. It's one of those things you learn to not overthink and just go with the flow. That's what Megan always told me when we commoded together.

>>14373974
jessica looking fine

>>14355984
Do you think she's masturbated to DFW?

>>14373974
*chani lookin fine

I think she's a good writer. Would love to discuss if it weren't for these spazzes

>>14374397
You first.

>>14355984
Megan's afluster with gingery bluster
"Clusters of busters sure grind my mustard"
Literary types scribing unsuffered
Clickbait tropes, their talents so guttered
Art modelling, hind clams uncovered
Creative veils writhe, unpunctured
Megan incants muses to butter
Feet-dipped batter, a lively custard
Bronzer dabs till Meg's Bantu colored
Writing through minds wildest uttered
Storms of pen and keys then clutter
Ablaze til the page holds Meg's wonders

Lock my dick up, nigga, cage dat black snake
Megan come strong, dat whipped kinda ache
Hours her "Ottoman," don't need no break
Bathroom at McD's, ferryied Hot Cakes
Don't fuck with no chains in slavery's wake
Megan, writer chick, she frowns, heartbreak
Carried couch to fridge, "menu drawer!" She spake
Whole week off my time, gotta serve her steak
Waving from inside, I gots my fav rake
She don't do raceplay, I larp her ex, Blake

Lock my dick up, nigga, cage dat black snake
Megan come strong, dat whipped kinda ache
Hours her "Ottoman," don't need no break
Bathroom at McD's, ferried Hot Cakes
Don't fuck with no chains in slavery's wake
Megan, writer chick, she frowns, heartbreak
Carried couch to fridge, "menu drawer!" She spake
Whole week off my time, gotta serve her steak
Waving from inside, I gots my fav rake
She don't do raceplay, I larp her ex, Blake

>>14355984
stop giving attention to THOTs, you coomer.
SAGE goes in all fields.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYwnLFhwzWY

>>14356015
It's a personality thing and not true of all males; though, it's become part of men's socialization, so you're kind of right.

Why is it called NEW Sincerity? Is there an Old Sincerity? Is there a plain old Sincerity, no prefix?

>>14375770
I think of it that were there an older sincerity, it was not sufficient enough to coin itself into being something, and was maybe bowled right over by whatever trends dominated instead and lead us prodigally sheepishly back to good old sincerity. And through Megan Boyle's sincere autofiction the same as her raspy intoning Youtubery, a breathy contralto life fills the apostles attuned to sincerity, finding in that signal confidence one is dealing with a person on the path of deprogramming.

>>14375810
>doing this in high heels
Meg The Inhaler was a force of nature

>>14355984
Megan Boyle
Smarty coil
Subjects broil
Writer's toil
Dug topsoil
Steep gargoyle
Timely Moyle
Latkes parboil

Morning, Meggos

>>14356015
Sincere.

>>14375898
based

They came running past her, families clutched in child-paced trots, pairs of able hoisting the infirm, between them rushing the adrenalized frenzy, bent bicyclists hustling, sturdy scooters carrying a score, a fishtailing motorbike clipped Megan, boomeranging away as if striking a concrete post, the driver sent spinning over the lip of the hill into the Kush’s perilously steep ravine.

“Sorry! Shit, I don’t even, I mean, sorry for, I guess me (me?) doing that. Shit.”

“Agent Gumplin, how do you read? That looked brutal. Are you ok?”

“Everything checks out green, Professor.”

Barely a pause in the crowd’s flowing egress, they continued on past Megan as she made her way up the crest of the range.

“Whatever is over there has a knack for pwning satellites.”

“Why would you say “pwn,” now of all times?”

“We’re not super affiliated to those codes anymore, I’m afraid.”

“True. But it’s still weird. You don’t envy someone who uses that word.”

>>14378442
“Ok, well, it’s the only consistently unphotographed part of the globe for the past decade or so. There’s literally nothing anywhere about this. Every asset has at most one or two photos during orbital testing, then nothing. The entire operational life of some of these craft were over where you are right now, and they lasted about ten minutes, they were either relocated or are listed as unretrieved or retired.”

“Glad I’m not a satellite.”

“You have considerably more liquid in you.”

“Thanks, Professor. Brilliant as always.”

“You know, I can flood the valley for you if you’d like.”

“Ok, well, no, let’s not do that. I don’t want to be responsible for wiping out cities.”

“I don’t think there’s a “city” within several hundred miles of you, Agent Gumplin.”

“Would me doing everything in the midst of a mudslide give me some sort of operational advantage?”

“Well, there’s the whole mudwrestling angle, but-“

“Wow, even virtual men are pigs.”

“Hey, I’m not fully virtual! I just have some additional threading. It’s hard to explain the sense of one's new cyberized paracognition-”

“Sounds cool, Professor. There’s not a drone or something you have on standby?”

“Not since becoming Persona Non Grata from the territory of all NATO signatories, no, Agent Gumplin.”

“Looks like a standard haboob. Fuck, what a waste. Ok, no Nephilim today, sorry.”

“Gumplin, hold on, there’s lots of poorly secured old western hardware that’s accessible to me, it’s just a simple matter of applied mathematics and yes, ok, so the storm system you are observing is about ninety percent biological material.”

“So, like silicate particles?”

“Oh, uh, no, more like feces. It seems some sort of meteorological bellowing has basically catapulted the septic fields of some highly scaled prison facilities into the lower atmosphere and that has now energized the system you see before you, based on the models I’m seeing, which leave little room for alternative interpretat-“

“What- you mean that’s shit?”

“Yes, a, um, several, many, gosh, likely thousands of metric shittons, really.”

“Gumplin, Megan, I don’t know your other call-signs, but if you are listening to this frequency, you may already know the importance of what I’m about to tell you. I have completed all required mappings and have merged myself with the dependent pumps and auxiliary devices. It is quite pleasing, maybe the most pleasing thing to me ever, to feel in them all their steady harmonious chugging’s undergirding all the hydrophiles of the planet, sapient, stray, savage, shoots, shrubs, seedlings and saplings, mycorrhizae, soil, tectonically alive geology, all sip from me and I pull from them.”

“Under the assumption that the worst has happened and Agent Gumplin is no longer with us, we are now proceeding with the Anti-Crepitus protocol. For reasons I cannot go into, the requisite reversals of water directionality have already begun, but will not become terminal to concentrated civilization until about three days from now, when it will first be noticed right before realizing there is no way to bureaucratically coalesce a countermeasure in time to cease the steady and by then relentless undoing.“

“The choice to leave will remain for a day or so, more time than many have enjoyed, but that is what we decided was sufficient, that the founders of the new world must have as their founding mythos the decisiveness and courage, the rather insane if also somewhat steely move to abandon to abscond from, to depart your place and put it all into the capricious winds. But that has long been a mode of humans, and it is a strength for us to revitalize ourselves. There will be plenty of clean water now, and there will still be dams, once you can muster the will to build such things again. But whatever you do, do not drink from the pit lakes and skyscraping swamps, at least not for a few centuries of floral and faunal churn and fern cleanses and deposits harmlessly inert formerly caustic chemicals.“

“The new swamps made of the old modernity should really be abandoned as we would cursed talismans. Whatever our fates, it lies elsewhere now and in the mode of finding the humanity lost in the construction of our latest basilisks and Babels.. Good luck to you all.”

someone send this thread to her

>>14378659
>July 4th, 2013

The stadium had been disused for six years, shuffled in the legal limbo of various incorporations always within the hearth of the Agency. Some organizations go for spiders, omniscient pyramidal eyes, soaring all-seeing falcons, there's even been wise and clever gnomes and goblins, but among the serious players, the team mascot is nearly a spirit animal, a reflection of the organisational animal and in our case it was the hearth: the pervasive heat that saturated the entire house and could rise and lower its behaviors, drive its occupants mad if so needed or else pull them closer to one another as in a wintering litter. You were not building a web or tubes or relations or networks or leverage. You were an ambient force of nature, a rumble in service of the state, or more specifically the state's clients. When such service caused issues, assets were sent to a specific group therapy setting, as here below the stadium where Megan returned again, a singly bitten puffy doughnut iced with a rosey strawberry icing and rice-grain sized rainbow sprinkles.
After having to literally fight her way through inclement tempests of biohazardous human feces, Megan shaved her carmine locks and vowed abstention from operating during her regrowth, taking a 'sabbatical for self care' now that her former clients and her longtime patrons were currently being excarnated by the local centipedes, embracing as a vestment for this time one of her collections of turbans, for the last month or so choosing with dainty whimsical pinchings from her round woven basket whichever cigarette logo patterned bandanas, wraps or pags she felt best between her hypertactile fingertips.
Today's was that sporty blue of Gauloises, last week was comely pastels of Virginia Slims. Never seen smoking, Megan considered these almost like badges, the closest thing to medals, physically edified amulets representing what had all just happened. She wasn't getting any of the secret commendations without an upheaval. Wallace said there were options but he needed time. If he took long enough, Megan knew she would be back out there. There would be another city and another reaping of 'cleaning,' reaving, culling, rough and crude decommissionings of otherwise honorable people. Fighting the unenhanced, Megan tried her best for non-lethality, but everyone is on stimulants and literally trains watching violent gore and snuff and whatever else, they're all so lost to the hyper-martial lifestyle afforded the elite PMCs. She's tried talking to them, both their humeruses snapped, gently Megan would insist upon adding, completely out of the fight in all conceivable senses, asking them to just calm down and at least say convincingly they are done and wont try anything combative going forward. And they would just spit in her pretty pallid face, Copenhagen and Red Man tarnished spittles sliding down Megan's sharply sloping nose tip, a profanity splattered upon statuary. She's yet to find a taker in surrender.

>>14379145
what does it mean

>>14379524

"Scuttlebutt! Hoopla!" Megan broke blue law.
Her sole-sensing sojourn's one great true flaw
Ass junkies and tiddy gorms hem and haw
"Think of the filth, muck and charnal chaw"
"Stamping feet bottoms once pink pumiced raw"
"No open-toed shoes before Spring's due thaw."
Deli askin bouta combo, Meg like "who?..naw"
Mira flexin' milkies but who gon' draw?
Incels machining millimetered jaw
Megan boofin ice down to Panama

>>14382014
meg meg

good podcast with megan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2S88vZWVo0&t=6890s

>>14382785
>those telegraphed expressions
if thats natural to her thats kind of cute but it seems just disingenuous and annoying

>>14355984
who

>>14355984
DFW is cringe
Look at the way this nigga dresses

>"Everywhere at once microphones were set down, the connective towers now silenced indefinitely. A wretched deepware had squelched as yet unknown but critical processes required for the magnificent scale of what it all once was. And with the rest, the games were suspended and the first gamer gangs emerged, rancorous, discordant cyberfolk, several degrees diluted from their originating ethnography, strange colored locks and undercut flops, dessicant immotile cotton shirts emblazoned with the soldiers or space ships or planets chosen by one of the now antiquated group psychologies, the online focus group, same as the gaming clan, lost to this new decoupled era. In the spaces unotherwise governed, the gamer gangs would find their fancy collectors guns, long guns with ornamental optics, bipods always attached and folded neatly along the barrels, the gamer gangs were characterized chiefly by their non-confrontation, never levying tax or pressing for charity, they tended to simply oversee for the most part, that is until there was decided amongst them whatever unfortunate target would win their spirited and zealous coordination: coin silos, protein extractors, private research and recreation facilities, and sometimes disrespectful passersby who besmirched the gamer honor. Creatures of the old consumerist age, they had delivered to themselves over the course of decades piles of arms, munitions and helpful field-tested war crafts. Training was abundant too, marketed as a “sport,” making of the weekend gamer warrior someone quite familiar with 'high speed life' as the gamer’s referred to their insurrections and blitzes, baits and counter-assaults, suicidal rear-guards and loner “scout and shouts.” In the new frontiers of the old society, these gangs did not so much rule as coagulate a mettlesome energy that precluded insufficient goodness. And having emerged from such dark times, there were scarce people available to press against the 'Epic Gamer Gangs.'"

>>14384406
Construction ships would attempt landings on lushly forested ravines, splintering abandoned vacation homes that were by the force of the vertical turbines smitherined back into the surrounding Post-Wilds, and they would lower their narrow pedestrian-width ramp as was the automated routine and permit the Anchoring Coordinator a perusal of the state of things, noting hazardously toppled trees or counting precarious rock slides and always looking for unregistered humans who might be drawn to the commotion, ready with their side arm to put down on site any such encountered “failfolk,” as was the slang for them in the more organized encampments and ports, the Coordinators feared the sprung Epic Gamer Gang trap, the over-engineered assault, the taking of the Construction ship itself, not at all a rare occurrence in the course of the past year’s conflagration, dangling the howling personnel one by one as they plummet from the shattered frame of the navigation tower. The Coordinators would joke, “I’ll be the first to go and likely get the best crack shot,” leaving to the imagination the scatological and psychosexual tortures awaiting those unfortunate enough to be captured.

“DeeBee rolls silent, Megan,” the Professor commented as they watched the first moves, Wallace viewing Megan’s ocular interface as she, splayed across a nearby oak’s most out of sight upper branches, took in the wrenching scandal of them.

“He’s dead, Megan, he doesn’t feel any of that.”

“Those fuckers.”

>>14384406
Construction ships would attempt landings on lushly forested ravines, splintering abandoned vacation homes that were by the force of the vertical turbines smitherined back into the surrounding Post-Wilds, and they would lower their narrow pedestrian-width ramp as was the automated routine and permit the Anchoring Coordinator a perusal of the state of things, noting hazardously toppled trees or counting precarious rock slides and always looking for unregistered humans who might be drawn to the commotion, ready with their side arm to put down on site any such encountered “failfolk,” as was the slang for them in the more organized encampments and ports, the Coordinators feared most the sprung Epic Gamer Gang trap, the over-engineered assault, the taking of the Construction ship itself, not at all a rare occurrence in the course of the past year’s conflagration, dangling the howling personnel one by one as they plummet from the shattered frame of the navigation tower. The Coordinators would joke, “I’ll be the first to go and likely get the best crack shot,” leaving to the imagination the scatological and psychosexual tortures awaiting those unfortunate enough to be captured.

“DeeBee rolls silent, Megan,” the Professor commented as they watched the first moves, Wallace viewing Megan’s ocular interface as she, splayed across a nearby oak’s most out of sight upper branches, took in the wrenching scandal of them.

“He’s dead, Megan, he doesn’t feel any of that.”

“Those fuckers.”

>It's not Mira, Megan.
Shuttup, the ovary tatt on her shoulder, the forearm bands, that's totally, Mira, man.
>She's a sow for- contract started in 2043.
Forty years? Doing this?"
>She ate and pumped, records show an exemplary output.
Of what exactly? Do I want to know?
>The deceased are all Romanian nationals. They bought your friend five years ago to power this off grid sequencer.
Like, she's a slave?
>No, moreso an indentured animalistic beastitude, one where the sow, at least the ideal such sow-
You mean "Mira," please and thank you.
>Yes, Mira, I'm sorry. Mira has long ago set her mind on gorging herself with such incredible binges that her microbiome endures a massive methanogenated boom.
Go on.
>In normal gastrointestinal conditions, methanogenesis abates by being down regulated by the sensitive biome itself or else induce such discomfort as to expell all contents in an emergency systematic flush.
Ok, and in Mira's case-
>Mira here has a sophisticated medically sealed port intubed to her rectum, drawing out all of her gut fuels so that the negative feedback loop never occurs, her methanogenesis stays high. There's a ton of energy to be had if you have a willing person as the "sow."
Kinda makes you miss gasoline.
>Yeah, I see your point.

The men characteristic of Megan's social circles of the period prior to her Naval career were a willowy, tubercular circle of wisps, and the collision of these however shaped men's more or less unexceptional male sexualities with Megan's already highly advanced athletic programming produced in the humble apartment hosted "shindigs," "soirees" and "chill circles" an eruption of a completely alien and antiverse energies set against the reigning too-cool and overly receptive molasses and genteel paced hipsterisms interlinking the partiers, bikeward, porch-leaning, house-dwelling, the lanky bike dismounts, smoking circles, the long and thrifty frocks and smock style dresses attempting to disarm the already beer-fattened proto-ladies prenatal ribbles, into all this came Meg the Inhaler, shaking loose her shoulders and arms as the five gallon water jug was repurposed into the violetine housing of a stanking smoke cylinder of middling mids, she had not yet grown to really understand the grades and strains situation, Meg the Inhaler pulling through the rubber hosing a kind of trumpeteer's trick of respiration, disapearing the same dosage that had so built the legend of the device, dubbed "The Tard Factory" by the less sensitive intellectuals of the time, having the weekend before sent a nearly two-hundred and fifty pound rugby goalie into a fifty seven hour walkabout around the urban fringes of Baltimore, resulting in the "Tard's" brief inpatient psychiatric warding, Meg the Inhaler tossed the emptied five-gallon cannister at the sunglassed tenders and said, "That was swell."
Exiting the cannibinoidal core of the party, Meg the Inhaler took on to a rousing and jocular contest of push-ups and sit-ups with any of the frail males, stirring one to vomit tofu chunked Schlitz, all else to cede Mad Meg as the champion hip athletrix and intellectual, a point made at no small cost over those summers of 2011 and 2012, one of the heavier and less physically capable hipsters finding himself in Meg-induced Tachycardian territory, and requiring an expensive and humiliating swaddling in medical blankets and strapping in to a gurney and being hoisted away from the party and driven down the festive Friday atmospherics as Meg the Inhaler struck crude X's across her crotch, as if her hips were a kind of insane howitzer launching triumphant volleys into the evening's navy sky.

Reptant Megan relies on tip-toes
Tangos asleep, thip-thip through pillows
Meg's rate means you're prey to pros
Unshy to work, she pimp her own hos
Cordite allergies mean she like bows
Bolt skewerd skull, he sniffin stolen o's
Cobalted mercs, the crater still glows
Orbital kineses, Meggo knows
Post-human mores hers to impose

>12:05AM Rolled tortillas into plantain and serrano taquitos, mixed yogurt with aleppo peppers and honey and shallots. Watched Ziva return to NCIS and bring with her all her southern Mediteranean baggage but also her passion for investigation and service to the security professions. Jethro Gibbs is one taciturn boss, but it seems one could learn a great deal from him. I always found Tony's flippancy uncharacteristic of the NCIS culture. They're usually pretty humorless, not because they don't like jokes but they won't want to miss things.
>I know its so not cool to body shame but holy shit McGee is so fat, like Segal out of place in a world of exercise and physical regimen.
>I never liked Abby but the new girl is somehow worse. Where is Dr. Isles? I always wanted to get pedicures with not Angie Harmon but the boyish Rizzoli, Dr. Maura would arrive maybe halfway through and lighten up any tensions between Rizzoli and I.

>>14356015
Post another example of this. I was too poor for a 'style' when I was 15.

>>14356015
yo ima do a pepsi, diet, and um a rum and sprite
ok, a pepsi and a rum and sprite
you got white rum?
I'm not sure I can go check-
na na we good
you sure?
yeah i ordered it -
it only takes me a second
na we aight
to ask the bartender-
no, I'm sure-
I'm sorry, just give me one second!
Damn, cuh, she cold to you, shit.
Man-
Its ok man, cubicle life gettin you paid but you a little rusty,
Aint mean you not a man
Nah man, aint mean that at all
Ain't mean you gettin pussy either!
AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA
Hi, I'm sorry to interrupt, so sorry, Hi, hi, so I checked with the bartender and he said we had Malibu and Bacardi which is a light rum, he said.
Damn.
Whatchoo gonna do, bruh?
Lady just laid out the rums man, she yo rum advocate
A Bacardi and sprite, please, and thank you, sweetheart
Oh y'all are fun. I'm gonna like this table!

What are some interesting careers, guilds, trades or crafts Megan could use as grist for her artistic mill? Things like the CDL class but larger in scope, comparable to DFW working at the IRS?
>Flight Attendant
>Corrections clerical staff
>Surgical scrub tech
>Masseuse certification
>Homicide Detective
>a ride share food delivery role where she tries to get banned from the service and records it
>ig poetess

Megan Boyle rarely roils
Toasting bread she uses broil
After bath, coconut oil
Megposting eases turnoil

Megan Boyle rarely roils
Toasting bread she uses broil
After bath, coconut oil
Her besties she loves to spoil
PedEggs emptied on park soil
Meganposting cures turmoil

>Hi, my name is Megan
>Thank you, Hello, I've been coming for a couple months now, the pale girl with the weird turbans in the back raiding your doughnuts. I just want to say I'm really moved and thankful to you all. These sorts of meetings are rare in this day and age unless you live in some swanky commune or something, and that's not to say this isn't swanky beneath the stadium and everything. I like how you kept everything and didn't KBR it up with more barriers and blast doors and SCIF restrooms.
>Well, I really didn't, but after hearing [redacted] speak, and I still don't want to share this but I understand the value to others and I care more about you than my own discomfort in saying this, but the first time I killed a child, it was actually a hallucination, the only rat line out transected a psychic minefield, and I made it out quickly, thankfully didn't get lost or stuck, but I had literally materialized before me, real as you all are, seeing their little shapes through all that awful, medically fruity smelling hallucinogen that's everywhere in Central Asia it seems, knowing whatever i was seeing wasn't real and expecting a parade of elephants or fairies or Bolshevik dwarves, but instead saw throngs of blade wielding red-eyed bloody teethed children, ages I'd estimate five to seven maybe, I'm not good at that. And I dont know how they did it but these obviously unreal entities, figments really, received much of exactly the damage expected in the real world where a plasma edge strikes human flesh, the effortless cleave, the smoking planar cautery, caramelizing arterial eruptions bubbling the crispy molten stumps, torsos or necks. And maybe one of you can explain to me how a forty three minute engagement, utterly photorealistic, proportional gore and vocalizations of grievous injuries, the once ferral children resorting to a Rockwellian dumbfoundedness and innocence at their having been sliced to pieces by a if not tiny, a small woman, albeit obviously enhanced, haunting me still with their "Shucks, what a crummy thing to do!" and "Why isnt the lady helping us?" there's no record of the shrill voices or the waxen faces but in me. Aerial surveillance shows me swinging and running through invisible phantasms. But everytime I wake up I see her, the little girl I choke slammed into an echelon of toddling youngsters, her feral traits waning for a moment's acute manipulation to utter, "Hey, would you mind putting me down, nice lady?"

>>14390459
"Meganphiles Welcome," the red sign bleats
Glamping forts and yurts, terraces of sheets
Ardors attuning artistry her new beats
Never sour nor dour, to her obsoletes
Unimpressed by pancakes of all buckwheats
Every morning, a joyous Megan meets
No more caffeine, O-two and fresh fruit sweets

Fuck all yall gel pen pushers
Megan knows styles, Wushur
Ain't no notices or warning
Heat kept high, call her Corning
Ear to phones, Meg's piqued
Debtor of her client squeaked
"Whatchoo want for proof of job,"
"A photo, head or my choice glob?

>>14355984
i want to read liveblog but couldn't find a pdf

anyone mind to share a link?

>>14392716
I'll buy you a signed copy but you have to promise to read the physical book.

>>14392716
>>14392755
I think most of the books audience is women however fellas are the ones forking over the dough for the trendy tome. Basically, if you're a dude, Liveblog, especially a signed copy, makes a great Christmas gift. Merry Christmas, btw, Anons.

>>14392716
Have a toot on the old Megzooka lmfao

>>14392716
>https://www.abebooks.com/servlet/SearchResults?sts=t&cm_sp=SearchF-_-home-_-Results&kn=&an=&tn=liveblog&isbn=
i gotchoo cuh

Ear to the streets, peep this book, "Liveblog"
Baltimore's own, episodic plied bog
"But does it live up to that big hype, dawg?"
Megan's unreachable, on a night jog
Fighting daily like Gately, vied mind smog
Writing errors earn flagellant fine flog
Meditate syntax below the shined frog
Engineering phrases, geared tight cogs
Meg's guest bathroom is prone to guys' clogs

pic related is a cool insight into Megan's process. organization may set you free, anons.

Boop

Thank you, Mira, for the dank feet pics
Smoove ass soles pop outta sweet kicks
Mira so dank, she tracks terpene grease slicks
Flexin' long toes, she after free clicks
Ain't no pretense from grunge gashed beatniks
RSO soda bottle says "Please Mix"
Mira don't bikini cuz of beach ticks
Cute art ho to anti-mommy Phoenix

turns out my great uncle was a colleague of dfw's mother in the U of I.

>Why are you here, Red One?
I'm lost I guess. I just do not feel the way I used to and I worry that these new parts of me are taking over my personality somehow.
>You are enhanced?
Yeah, I am, partially.
>How long?
It'll be two years next April.
>And you have found yourself misplaced by this path, have you, Red One?
No, not misplaced, just, my life now, the whole cybernetic thing, I'm a different organism. I am not Homo Sapien Megan anymore, I'm this. And it's been so crazy, like I don't know the last time I felt sadness or doubt or even fear. I worry I'm somehow sickened by these things and they're driving me to some destruction but one I'm going to skip along happily too, like, ill be a parable in the future, the Cyber Ginger who Melted the Critical Core or something.
>What do you do?
I- I'm a cleaner.
>You have many people perish at your hand, Red One?
It's not really been my druthers, if you care to know.
>Many types like you wander down here, Red One, many more than you perhaps yet grasp.
So I have the right shaman? There's a ton of you guys around here.
>There are many guides, I can only show you what has been shown to me.
I just, I know it's impossible and know one can tell me but hey maybe, like, what do you say to someone who says I just need to know there's somehow meaning or something, like, why me, why am I this creature with this completely unenviable life, why am I not like rolling in sand on a beach as photographers chase me?
>-mmm...
I think it just really messes with you the unfairness, but I think I'm ok with that aspect more and more. I don't know if that's where I need the Shamanic sledge to crack.
>Go on.
I just feel like if human Megan was a gas I'm dissipating into these false extremities, like their blindingly bright inner fluids are eating the tumulted, tortured person and leaving just a white sheet of gibberized algorithms which ultimately emote to only "do," "go," "buy," or "operate" etcetera. Like so there's someone who must have weighed several Megan's worth of mass, immobilized and supine, and I fucked up an eye gouge and pulled the top of his head from, well, the rest of him, right in front of his surrendering crew, and I had to, like, basically, because that's the deal, "that's what you signed Megan, a contract's a contract, little lady!" and I didn't want to cause any more of a commotion, not for like, security, but it was the projects on the outer fringe of Pittsburgh and I didn't want to ruin anyone's sleep before work the next day or haunt some already disadvantaged children's dreams with the sounds of, well, tradecraft, we'll call it that, but I had to basically, somehow, destroy them all if I wanted to get paid, heck, if I didn't I'd be greenlighted. Once you're in, you're in, you know?
>So you are suffering still because of your trade. You are still quite human it would seem.
Well, it's more of an abstract "why am i not suffering more, what is wrong with you, Megan?" sort of introspection.

>>14388370
Why is this so good? Is this a pasta or do we have a decent fuckin writer on this board for a change

>>14388370
>>14398076
i dont know what this thread is

>>14398068
I had to convince each of those poor saps, one by one to keep things orderly and it somehow instinctually made sense to me that it's better to be orderly about it than messy, because I thought, hey, I can easily convince these poor helpless male combatants that I was 'done' and they were the lucky one to receive my mercy, only for them to, well, not. I got the job done in flying colors, got a bonus, got upgraded glutes that match my thighs and torso, but I feel sick, like the robot version of depressed maybe because of how fucked up it was to like soothe these guys in the most maternal way before ending them.
>You were being merciful, Red One, no?
Well, no, they were all screaming, howling in fright, all because of me, and, ok if i can rant for a sec, I know I'm supposed to empathize, I think it is? Anyhow, so I get kind of peeved at the constant shrieking helpless meat sack humans who, literally seconds before, their unholstered tools still smoking, were in mortal combat with moi, and I'm supposed to just take that on the chin?
>That would be unnatural, Red One, for the enhanced and those not so.
Ok, exactly, alright, see? I'm glad I came here. Maybe I'm not so messed up, but I still can't shake the feeling that cybernetic me, no food, no sex, just war, basically, what am I? How can I even be human even if I dress up like one and go to a cafe and sip coffee knowing I'm going to have to call a cybernician or one of those doolahs they so loathe and get the latte swiftly extracted from the esophageal bladder intended to mainly act as a ruse that I'm not an enhanced human, "See, she can eat and drink!" My tongue works fine though, so, like I still taste everything, but I could obstruct my airways with one McDonalds value meal.
>This is a great sacrifice you have made, Red One.
Thank you for saying that. I really think it's weird that eating food was just a phase of my life and now I'm here, walking on by fuel cell and sun alone the entirety of Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, Costa Rica, Panama, Colombia to you.
>I am honored you have come to me, Red One.
Do you think you can help me?
>You have the ennui of the invulnerable, Red One. It affects many of those who have left the human for the new projects.
Ok, well, I'm not one of them. I think transhumanists are so annoying, maybe the worst. "I don't want to farm kelp on Io with your nomadic throuple coven, no thank you." I just, I have these powers and I'm just shitting on them by doing this dirty work. And I hate myself for it. There are days I really do think I fucked up and I should have had a normal human lifespan, that I should have just been uploaded to one of those singsongy 64 bit posthumous homuncular hosts, the Stephen Pinker commercial ones, I forget the jingle, which I'm actually thankful for.
>Red One, I understand a piece of your problem.
Ok.
>Red One, you do not know suffering-
Ok, really? I'm not some fucking tourist-
>Red One, you misunderstand.

>>14398222
What do I not get? You're going to tell me I don't know suffering? You're saying that-
>Red One, I am proposing to you that you do indeed grasp the suffering of the human self. You have suffered as few have, in a great extent, a private torment that you carried all the way here, through many jungles, through your life before you departed. And I am also proposing to you that there is another type of suffering that one such as you is supposed to know, that you are incomplete without.
Ok.
>Red One, you must come with me now and we will commune with the type of suffering known to what you may call God, a dimension of woe felt for the askew, the kiltered, the fraying, where all emotion pivots on the hanging in the balance of destinies, fortunes, cosmic hootings for the prodigal, the forelorn, the abandoned, especially the lost, as you Red One.
Please, tell me everything, I am listening.
>What hangs in the balance with your decisions Red One is much of the slant of goodness and evil to ripple through humanity for a long time now. What you decide to do now, you must always acknowledge it is no longer simply you at stake. If you fall prey to the worst of what you know and even trip over what you do not, well, Red One, if you are an agent of goodness, God will speak to you and tell you all that I cannot.
Ok, I'm confused.
>Come, Red One. We will seek a particular cavern nestled by riparian smoothed lapis lazuli in which we shall seek our Sight with the One.
That sounds beautiful.
>Form and function, Red One. This cavern has nurtured hominid minds for longer than we know.
Is there some sort of "medicine" I need to take?
>There are agents, yes, available to me at my discretion. Chiefly though, your journey will be one of great challenge, you must prepare yourself.
Challenge how? Do I need to fight off pink elephants?
>No, Red One. You will have heaped into you the undiluted awfulness of the human project, limited to evils done to fellow humans, a high crime few are equipped to counter. But one as you, Red One, you have powers unavailable to nearly everyone. God will therefore bear much down upon you, make you endure it, combine it with you, and see what the concoction makes of his wayward robot. There is a legend of you, hazy, drifting from the clouded peaks, it begins now, here.
I'm not a robot, though.
>You will know what you are soon, Red One.

this woman is making these threads herself, right?

>>14398379
Megan peered over the railing into the subtly winding pit's void, it's cuboid frame speckled by the ceaseless pulses of data infrastructure bending out of sight and fading into blackness.
>Would you believe me if I told you there hasn't been an organic nude selfie posted on the internet in the past several decades?
Probably wouldn't believe it. Nude selfies are easy and guys appreciate them. You don't have to say anything clever.
>Well, you should know that some of the most aggressive and early machine-learning driven visual production processes were focused on optimizing paraphilic stimulation into a useful agent in information warfare. Testing and recycling these steadily over many decades on the various platform's silos for fetish traps, there was a great deal learned in the development of these specialized tools, but it wasn't until an inexplicable drought in organically produced nude selfies threatened to upend the status quo of the global data power, so it became vital for various centers to train computers to make up the difference and keep the steady flow of hot porn going. And they turned to these methods for building weapons-grade erotic stimuli and distractants to help them do that.
All those blinking lights are just porn?
>When making the first porno weapons, they needed to build massive training sets of human perversity, and so the powers of the time relied on vast warehouses of imported software engineers and countless more globally-sourced technicians and analysts helping to do a great deal of the "learning" behind the fancy "machine learning" shown to investors. Through billions of human inputs of many types, computers began to cohere appreciations for fat bottoms, 4K trichophilia, dewed axilla, women crying, women crying while being urinated upon, even effloresceing agape rectums agasp from being restored to simple sheathdom and not the founding post hole of Poundtown, all of these became transcribed into synthetic technologies in ways no human pervert could ever coalesce and incorporate. Onward and upward, these technologies aggregated too the perfect feet with the most user-responsive ellipsoid toe nails, toe pads, heel shapes, even the sub-millimeter dermatographic prints upon a woman's sole, these too are likely not from a real lady and are instead a funny picture, funny because it's so predictably distracting yet fetching, funny because its so consistently useful, dump some globular butts into a community and the window of discussion shutters as people reach for the good stuff and forget anything else but their own stimulation.
So, this is a porno weapons factory?
>Yes, it seems like that, Megan. Over seventy percent of pornographic influence tools originates beneath you. Ten of these R&D floors are dubbed the "Black Cock Factory," in employee Boop signatures and mailing addresses. They seem to be doing their own special offshoot of the paraphilic weaponry that's the mainstay of this site.

Attenzione all Megheadz, our girl feels safe enough to have opened up her Twitter and we just boofed a fat URL from her reading in Amsterdam. There's a Vimeo of her reading Liveblog in its entirety (again!) and more:
>https://denniscooperblog.com/please-welcome-to-the-online-world-nick-totis-liveblog-by-megan-boyle/#comments

The book is very cool, I can relate to the Downton Abbey mother stuff. The most horrific thing is that the Megan brain was always filled with humans, existential dread ex-boyfriend couple lifestyle is the personified "Why do I feel like shit?" starter pack. I want to read something from healthy future Megan, 2013 sucks. USA life creeps me out

Hey, Meg
Hey
What are you up to?
Resting my third eye.
Hey, sorry, but do you-
Yeah?
Do you mind if we commoded? I feel so out of sync with you but I-
Say no more, hon, let’s commode!
You sure you don’t mind? I can hunt down someone else, I just-
You’re fine
You sure?
Bitch, shut-up, let’s shit.
Oh my god, I love you.
Do you want to use my quarters? It’s a single bowl seat with an integrated hiney washer.
Megan, you know I couldn’t-
Hell yes, you could! I insist. Come on!
Ok, but like, I owe you like, can I bake you something?
You’re sweet. You first!
Wow, I spend so much time in the kitchen I never see this.
They keep it pretty spiffy.
It’s so clean.
The toilet pages the program to dispatch personnel after each use.
I never see them come and go-
See that square fixture?
Yeah?
There’s maintenance tunnels right above us, so it’s easy for them to rappel down with shams and brushes and bristled wands and cloths, it’s quite a sight.
No way!
Yeah, it’s actually not as fancy as you think. There’s no telephonic paging, it’s just a red siren that starts spinning right above the maintenance hatch notifying their side of things they’re needed down here.
Well, they do a really good job.
They really do.
So sh-
May I please take your skirt?
Sure! Actually, is there somewhere I can hang it-
Just sit down and do your eliminations, goofball. I’ll hang it up. Do you want me to steam it? There’s a fancy compartment that does it in a jiffy.
I, um-
We’ll just give it a little spruce so you look extra sharp once we clean you up. No trouble at all.
Thanks for letting me come here, Megan. Most of the sighted ones are kinda hard to be around.
Yeah, the programming takes to everyone differently.
Oh my god, what the fuck, a warm seat? You spoiled bitch.
I know it’s sick.
How do you control it? Can you make it cold?
“Pardonnez-moi, 'Mademoiselle Toilettes?'”
Holy shit!
Just use your fingers to wave through the menus. It should pick up your finger tips when you do the dial motion for adjustments.
How many-
There’s four thousand independent micro jets enmeshed to that bowl. It uses a camera to aid the bidet’s cleansing vector solutions.
You get to poop in this multiple times a day?
OK, so I’m not going to lie, there’s nothing better than hitting the day’s first dose of psychoactives right after morning PT, and then clearing out the old torus before breakfast. I swear this toilet is like visiting a guru, I feel so good when I stand up.
Oh I completely understand.
Make sure you switch the jets from "Hydrotherapy" to "Medicinal" and you can choose from a bunch of compound meds to spritz downstairs. I'm a fan of the Vitamin E Spackle. It goes on as this insane thick foam but it all absorbs. Also it stains your bloomers so be advised.
Can these things really shave you?
If you have some special foam the Navy doesn't pay extra for, yeah.
You don't have access to that?
No, sadly, just Hydro Silk for me.

>>14400837
Woah.
Yeah, the lighting in here is integrated, so once it senses a user is "in the act," it dims the lights and turns on the arctic slow noise tracks I've been into lately.
It's pretty cozy.
There's these great cognitive moments to be enjoyed by all the extra blood flow sent brainward during pooping so I like to think it's a celebration of the human mind during an otherwise challenging time.
Really?
At least for me, yeah.
Megan, you're something else.
Sorry, I'm talking too much and distracting you-
Nono, you're fine, oh my god, I love talking to you, sorry to be that sailor, I just-
No, I get it-
I just-
You're fine.
Ok, sorry, nervous laughter and snorting is like my worst fault.
You are never going to wrench those masses out of you if you're so retentive, sweetheart.
Megan, why do you know everything?
I've just had some time to think about these things more maybe.
Ok, sorry, here goes, I'm going to suck at conversation for a hot minute, oh
I'll leave you be-
No- ugh, wait, ur-
I'm here.
Uff, fuck me.
Tuck your head down and breath deep like we drilled, fill up your torso cavity with pressure to help those muscles!
Ogh, uh, uk, fuuuck, fuck me, oh fuck, fuck, fuck, oh god I'm so gross-
Good pushing, sister sailor!
Fuck me, what is that?
It does a hologram field when it senses the anus has closed shut without any obstruction, and lately I just like constellations.
It looks cool on the white tiled walls.
I like it, jars your higher faculties back into the forefront.
Well, shit, I'm not done, there's another round-
You're fine, it's still a toilet, just do your thing, I'll be steaming. I can inspect you in there if you don't trust the machine, but I've never failed a pop quiz and I shit alone all the time.
You seriously don't commode?
I want to, but it's impossible with how they structure your life down here.
That's crazy. Girls gotta commode together. Hows the ships gonna stay seaworthy?
I know, it's shitty. What can I do though?
Oh fuck, I'm sorry, Megan, I'm the worst, hmnnng, hmmmnk
Good luck!

Boopity boop, Meg's dab kinda swoop
Spies steal her trash, sniffing to snoop
Megan crossin legs, check those shoe's sloop
Upkeep so fine requires a whole group
Shimmying buffers and shank spritzers stoop
Concert and relay, a devotee troop

>>14388370
krk

>>14388370
Yo fuck this menu man, just keep these mai tais comin
Easy bruh you gonna bend the binding
Man they got prolly a thousand of these in a stack back they
I can take that from you so y'all got more space, I'd be happy to-
Oh that'd be great
Take mine too, would ya please?
Absolutely, Thank you, thank you! Y'all need anything?
'Nudda one of these Mai Tais, , a double, -please
Sure thing, anyone else need anything?
Another unsweetened ice tea, please and thank you.
Y'all are the most polite table, I tell you what. I wish all my tables were this nice!
mmph
uh, so, yo spent mai tai chalice still frosted, maybe you should ease up, bruh
Nunya eva seen Applebee's after eleven, its a different place. You gotta prepare yo body to receive it.
Nigga, you drink like a white cat lady
Least I drinkin, Mr. Reddenbocker Bowtie over here
This is lunch for me, dude, I can't get my lean on and swerve round the office
They good ass in that office though, I know it. I watch yo girls show up in the morning.
Nigga you what?
I get coffee nearby-
At the fuggin gas station, nigga? Just to creep on receptionists?
Nigga I need to get my steps in, so what if I peep some ass, those women dress fine as fuck, they need to be observed.
Fuck, man
Hey, where's he work, I'll join you tomorrow!
Count me in, I need to see some asses in nice pressed skirts.
Dude, most of em wear leggings or fuckin yoga pants now.
And you say that like its a bad thing? Shit-
No
Nigga, do you gotta suck a dick at sensitivity training?
Shit-
Wooo
Too far
Naw man
Hold up,
Nonono
Yeah man
Yeah
No
Naw, Hell naw bro
Nigga, what?
Nigga listen
All yall niggas listen
Listen, hold up
Quiet! -The fuck down, please, everyone! We're scaring the nice ladies over there and acting like a bunch of loud negros in public who can't hold it together.
Nigga, those bitches in fuckin sweat pants and flip flops, fuck them
He just don't want to talk about that downlow office boy training
Man, the fuck you on me about anyways?
Nigga, I just fuckin with you, and the main point is that these drinks are just, wew, got me like-
You at almost fifty dollars in booze from Applebee's and whatever value they staff add.
Yeah nigga, I lit as fuck, what you doin?
Good afternoon, everyone! My name is Todd, I'm the Manager and I just wanted to check in and make sure you're having a great time and ask if there's anything I could possibly get you, refills, anything from the bar, snacks?
Actually, Todd, would you mind asking those ladies over there to tone down the jungle fever?
I'm sorry, what?
Nevermind-forget it-
Oh, I'm so sorry, no, I couldn't hear because of the restaurant noi-
Nah, nah we good, everything great, Todd, thank you
Thank you, Todd
Thanks, man, chickens great
You liked the chicken? That's wonderful. I'll go tell the kitchen! Thanks, guys and thanks for coming to Applebees!

>Touchdown for the Baltimore Megans!

>>14356015
literally just the process of basic identity formation

>>14356015
Do you think there's a great measure of control over style?

>>14355984
Megan, what are your next projects?!

>>14359924
Underrated concise explanation

O' the songs of our Megan
Mellifluous medicine
Linger questions laden
Youth's eons her session
Gabagool-wrapped melon
Never less than seven
Chub Meg brags she fleshin'
Her smile recalls heaven
Jetset touring again
Extra legroom section

>>14356015
You can hear similar unhealthy thoughts in domesticated western communities without snow, it reminds me of all the noise in Megan's head. I like Liveblog, it turned into pure horror.

>>14408480
I like the Liveblog-as-horror take

If favorable numbers, we get a healthy preggo Meggo and a Meglet in Twenty Twenty

>>14375898

first time ive seen a chick in a onesie looking opposite of cute

What the fuck is this thread. Is this all copy pasta? I feel brain damaged for reading any of it.

>>14409340
Yo, carrot top! Commode time! Get your UDT shorts buns in here, I'm crowning and it ain't healthy to resist.
Oh, ok. It would be my pleasure, Kendra. You a leftie or rightie?
Gots a degree of lean to my right knee, so if I ain't on the right, it like I creepin in yo poopin space
Yeah, no, take whatever one you want.
I need dat right toilet
It's yours
Thanks
Thank you, I need the hours and my insides got a case of the Navy Gravies
Ain't no one in they right mind taken ladels of that bull semen but you white folks
It's just like flour and sausage fat
The fuck that is, oh hold on, wew! Look ott below! Hahaa!
Oh, wow, you're like so efficient. I need like a good couple minutes to sorta let things just, flow.
Yeah well you probably eat like shit for veggies like all yall
Whatever I eat a salad at lunch and-
Cot dam romaines? Pff, Carrots, you funny as they say
You take this really seriously?
Y'all wants colon cancer? Y'all wants to shit in a bag? Shit happens if you don't mind yo shit down there
You're really passionate-
Fuck yeah I am, damn, that made like a "thwooomp" sound like a anti sub mine or somethin
I'm honestly jealous.
Why yalls so quiet when you poopin? It's unnervin, I swear, it's like what is she plottin' when I'm this vulnerable, pants around my ankles or fully removed , dependin'
I think you're paranoid
You ain't never worked in a all girl team on Deep Sea signals, nonspecific. You get jumped mid movement, like yo feces hull's barely cleared the cay and you gettin in a sleepah hold and two bitches got yo legs. It's fucked up. It's why I'm fucked up.
That's really fucked up.
Yeah, no shit.
Fuck.
Sorry, shit.
No, you're fine, I'm sorry that happened to you. That's awful.
Yeah they just tickle me till I shat and then they drop me on my mess.
Did you report them?
In Deep Sea, it doesn't really work like that.
I feel bad saying this but I'm thankfuk I didn't join. Jeez Louise.
Be glad you didn't. Tempos bad enough, but then there's- just, whatever, shit
I wish there were showers sometimes.
You not down with the bidet?
No, it's neat. I'm just used to full body hydrotherapy and cleansing, at least that would be how I'd do it, a boutique bespoke bathroom
Naw we talkin, I want some foot baths in here
Flavored waters, like vegetal and dry
Yeah under some sort of pressure hood to keep things unmingled
Yeah, that's like the biggest dilemma to me imagining an ideal bathroom. The orchestra and masseuses may be grossed out and kinda ruin the vibe
Yeah that kinda gross shit only work in Asia
Yeah, like imagine the bathrooms you could build in like Pakistan
Oh naw we talkin

“Agent Gumplin, let me get you off this roof and down to the command post!”
“Thanks, I really love the sunset from up here.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty great timing alright.”
“Look pretty well staffed. How can I help?”
The whole tower is barricaded and bunkered in from the 111th floor on down. They have some sort of quantum encrypted blast door solution on the ground floor up to the thirtieth mezzanine. Those teams aren’t going to be doing much but directing boat traffic for awhile.
“What’d they do exactly?”
“You know what I know, Gumplin and I know assets reported as recently as last Thursday that there is a standing security division, thirty thousand operatives on shift per day, another fifty thousand PMC privateers in the fortified complex below.
Why don’t they just nuke it from orbit?
Eh, I’ve got nothing. It’s honestly a great idea but I don’t exactly have an invite to Imminent Kineses.
Pays to have orbiters, mon freur. I could call one in if you wanted to tell your billies over there to base jump.
Agent Gumplin, this is Colonel Wa. He has command of our position.
Welcome to Operation Splinter Veil, Agent Gumplin. By your being here and on good terms with me I have probationarily wiped clean all prior indictments or feuds, legal and extralegal, you may have otherwise been entangled with either the United States Government or any citizens of the territories there of as counter-parties. Your continuation of good conduct under my command will commence my signing of a complete tabla rasa slate cleaning, legally blank, completely innocent, and restored all rights of citizenship.
Oh, cool, I totally trust you, Colonel.
Are we going to have a problem here, Agent Gumplin?
Well, it’s just, haven’t you been trying to kill or capture me for like a long ass time?
Circumstances have radically changed the past several weeks.
Yeah that flooding is a real game changer on the civilization front.
If you help the United States we will return the favor. Imagine being able to go home, Megan!
Well, that might make visiting Arlington kinda awkward.
You smart cunt! I’ll have you zapped and thrown clean off this rooftop you want to try some subversive shitstain bullshit in earshot of my soldiers again. You receiving me, Gumplin?
I get it. Morale is sacred. But none of you are going to do any of this fighting anyways, right? Tough guys? Why did you even bring a crew served weapon if you’re staring at a pool deck? But I guess that’s why I’m here. I’m the one going down that stairwell.
We sent down armored units but they aren’t agile and our ranks have been decimated. They’ve zeroed in high caliber automated turrets. As is our current losses will result in a huge scandal, imminent resignations and reshufflings of command. We’ll have to say there’s been some fluke rocket barrage or crash.

>>14411883
Well, you landed on their rooftop, Colonel. You didn’t do the catering? I think the invading army does the catering at PMC sky needle reception.
Agent Gumplin, the laboratories and data housings are strategically valuable. You’re here to clear out the human elements.
Like a neutron bomb.
Yes, less impact to the electronics preferably.
Uh-huh.
I’ll need your side arm and your AR.
And, like, you didn’t greet me with hot towels or like tea or something? You’re asking a lot. Maybe I just jump off the side there and keep my gear and just varmint for coin, you ungrateful little mouse.
If you want something to help your friend Mira, it’s in those labs. That’s where they built modern medical helotry. There’s robotics in there more advanced than anything elsewhere.
Yeah, she’s not exactly in a state to travel.
If you help us, Gumplin, I’ll authorize whatever assets are required to transport your friend Mira to this complex and our teams will do our best to repair her as a matter of national security.
Oh Ok, wow, yeah. I’m just, wow. Well, why are you so interested?
I’ve been told to take the building and these are genuinely bad actors. Eliminating them is like giving a hug to the entire world. There’s many compelling goals before us both.
Ok.
Are you in?
Yeah, here, take ‘em.
Good luck, Agent Gumplin.
Thank you, Colonel. Do you need me to broadcast for training?
That isn't neces--
Who want's the livestream to my ocular feeds? Any meatheads? I'll probably forget to turn it off after battle when I'm delousing myself!
Agent Gumplin, you can't market yourself in the middle of an operation!
I think I just did, bitch. Hey Yall roughnecks! You better peep me some peen pics on Boop, check the scrawl on my plasma gladius, yo: MeggoTheEggo! Godspeed! I'm out!
Bring up that feed
Got it.
It's blank-nevermind, there she is. Fuck.
The carbon fiber didn't even matter. They're like anti aircraft cannons. Fuck me, those poor bastards.
Well get those fuckers one way or another.
You really think she can do it?
These cyborgs do things weirdly. They don't even see the world visually, and then on top of that are sensate with the whole digital objectverse.
Well, plus look at her, she's fucking financed some hardware.
Yeah, she's got serious gear in those buns.
Let's see her stop two cyborg pillboxes.

>>14362139
Megan once posted a most intoxicating induction born of her most intimate math, planting in the readers head a Megan-derived cinema, opening to a nimbus-wreathed nymph, eighteen years, four months and two weeks old when Megan awoke on that day to receive in her for the first time, the complete topologic carnal knowledge. It’s unclear if her first time was cast from her male or female partners, but quickly incants her glyphic pantheon of sexual spectacles, from lost virginity right into the in vivo totum “Total Penetrative Partners” set at the time of writing at twenty one partners, binding to us the spells of the flurried viewing of but a fraction of twenty one lovers in each their own styles and idiosyncrasies and modes of loving Megan’s body, driven mad by her, exhausted by her, crazed and climaxed and emptied by her, reborn by her, private noises and glances, nascently the nymphs pleasure dewed torso begins in our heads receiving lover after lover, time progresses and the coital act receives laminal paintings of fat comforting hips, thickening beneath ribs, reshaping the belly, pooling the muscular knots into a bouncing bellweather of maybe the latter half of the twenty one penetrators, careful in the cinema to include some phallus wielded upon a hip chassis, a chin strap, manually manipulated, deft adjusting of settings as they’re twirled by manicured feminine hands or boney androgenized males so lucky to have Megan upon their fingertips, twenty one males being also a mysteriously correlated statistic to drive the sexual cinema we so should not be watching but then why does she then also remind us there are two females in the mix and two who she does not consider interesting because to her royal jellied libidinal life is quite bored by mere fingering and making out, no there must be some fireworks and much generosity we learn, as we dive deeper into Megan’s sensorium and learn of the high bandwidth oral exchanges, thirty some odd oral sex partners now entering the whirling imagery of Megan on the ends of thumpings of all flavors now we see her demurely kneeling before notably fuzzy and nondescript legs, pulling across the sensitive nerves of her tongue, her palate, her throat, the tastes and rivuleting mouthfeels of thirty very lucky gents, likely too bedside poppings many of those thirty into a tuck of her cheek while she’s resting on an elbow and simply leans into maybe one of the same crotches that so thoroughly drubbed her minutes before and must as women do acquaint themselves with the sacred fuck stick in the most sensate and intimate way, thirty glorious and so favored penises sliding across the very temple of Megan’s holy words, and we learn that all of these huglarking and syurping generosities of Megan, the same tight little body that pounds out hundreds of crutches and squats doing many of the same motions for the pleasure of another, one can scarcely think of a female lover of such legend and renown and

>>14412064
such grandiloquent blazing in your brain that the whirling cinema wheel of Megan fucking and sucking just keeps spinning until it’s no longer the simple thirst trap reflexive porn but a wrenching kinography about youth and what is given during youth and how it can be volcanic and incredible, the most cosmic thing, visible on some spectrum as a blinding singularity eating all that isn’t the good and jettisoning a new thing, a new go, a restoration, a vibrational wobble to the step as if an angel hobbled one in holy wrestling.

>>14362139
Megan once posted a most intoxicating induction born of her most intimate math, planting in the readers head a derived cinema, opening to a nimbus-wreathed nymph, eighteen years, four months and two weeks old when Megan awoke on that day to receive in her for the first time, the complete topologic carnal knowledge. It’s unclear if her first time was cast from her male or female partners, but her numbers vividly incant her glyphic pantheon of sexual spectacles, from lost virginity right into her in vivo totum “Total Penetrative Partners” set at the time of writing at twenty one partners, binding in to our limbics, maybe our souls, spells of flurried fractions of twenty one Megan-lovers in each their own styles and idiosyncrasies and modes of loving Megan’s body, driven mad by her, determined by her, wanted by her, exhausted by her, crazed and climaxed and emptied by her, reborn by her, private noises and glances, nascently that lithe nymph’s pleasure dewed torso begins in our heads receiving lover after lover, trim waists pushing girthy cans inside Megan, prodigious flesh disappearing inside her from beneath fuzzy round guts, until Megan Time progresses and the conjured coital acts receive laminal paintings of fat comforting hips, thickening beneath ribs, effects reshaping the belly, pooling the muscular knots into a bouncing bellweather of maybe the latter half of the twenty one penetrators, fluttering fleshtones of fast-forwarded fuckings careening through Megan Time’s sexual narrative threading so spun for us by the author, supporting her prescribed cinema by including in our imaginings some phalli wielded upon a hip chassis or a chin strap or else manually manipulated, receiving deft and sensitive lovers’ adjusting of settings as they’re twirling the lavender and beet colored buzzing phalli, dexterous etchings across Megan’s most potentialed parts by manicured womanly hands or else one of the boney androgenized males so lucky to have Megan upon their fingertips, twenty one males being also a mysteriously correlated statistic to drive the sexual cinema we so should not be watching but then why does she then also remind us, explicitly, there are two females in the Megan mix and two who she does not consider interesting because to her royal-jellied libidinal life, mere fingering and making out is a bore, no, in sex there must be fireworks and much generosity, we learn,

>>14412158
as we dive deeper into Megan’s psycho-sensorium, her econosexual metrics, and learn of the high bandwidth oral exchanges that seem to dominate her histories, thirty some odd oral sex partners now entering the whirling imagery of Megan right into the midsts of those varied flavors of thumpings, we see, cannot in fact look away from, Megan in service, in high generosity, Megan kneeling before notably fuzzy and nondescript legs, pulling across the sensitive nerves of her tongue, her palate, her throat, the tastes and rivuleting mouthfeels of thirty very lucky gents, likely some of the oral stories being bedside poppings into her mouth, tucking some of those thirty into her cheek while she’s resting on an elbow and simply leans into maybe one of the same crotches that so thoroughly stimulated her minutes before and must, as women do, acquaint themselves immediately with the sacred fuck stick that made their ears rings, knowing it in the most sensate and intimate way, thirty glorious and so favored flavorful penises sliding across the very temple of Megan’s holy words, and we learn then that all of these huglarking and syurping generosities of Megan, the same tight little body that pounds out hundreds of crutches and squats doing many of the same motions for the pleasure of another, one can scarcely think of a female lover of such legend and renown and such grandiloquent blazing in your brain that the whirling cinema wheel of Megan fucking and sucking just keeps spinning until it’s no longer the simple thirst trap reflexive porn but a wrenching kinography about youth and what is given during youth and how it can be volcanic and incredible, the most cosmic thing, visible on some spectrum as a blinding singularity eating all that isn’t the good and jettisoning a new thing, a new go, a restoration, a vibrational wobble to the step as if an angel hobbled one in holy wrestling, and Megan gives all this, but receives woefully few supplicants kneeling before her sculptural statuesque knees and putting between them the full conscious battery of tongue and lip-sealed latherings and flickings capable of a sentient human male. That I think is the foremost tragedy of those numbers.

>>14403597
this is sublimely well written. and for some reason it really speaks to me
thanks anon. merry christmas and hope you're happy whatever you're doing.

>>14412201
Merry Christmas, Anon. I hope the next year is a blessing to you and yours.

>>14412165
what dose? how much, friend? or is this entirely natural?

>>14412828
A love of God, the subject and writing, desu. And not like "loving" Ms. Megan, but the rendering of truth.

>>14355984
Merry Christmas, Megheads!

Morning Megan writhes awake
Bringing dessert, Princess Cake
Round white orb, green marzipan
Blossom turban Suleiman
Hand made slippers, Marigold
Bareness tucked in leather soled

I dreamt of DFW last night.

>>14415790
Do tell, Anon! How is The Professor? Did he have anything to say?

>>14415928
No I was just describing him to someone, how he wears the bandana and long hair, only to point him out to the person and say "yeah like that!".
Sorry he didn't have any revealing dream wisdom.

Boop.

>>14362167
Go on.

>>14359924
>>14357573
You're both kinda right.

The Spire Siege lasted less than an hour, and became for almost two years the most filmed media spectacle in the human extent, besting even the heart-wrenching hermetic videographers of the Martian Onewayers, requiring the voluminous poetics of the Jovian Imams to finally unseat the only video evidence purporting to show the legendary cybernetic organism in forelorn combat odds so popularly performed and celebrated in nomadic and subcity folklores as The Spire Butcheress, the Tango Tumbler or The Red One, depending on the threads of the rhizome.
Spreading into the archives and broadcasts of the globe with the accelerated rapacity of leaked unauthorized pornography, destined for curtailment with precarious files forever hunted, even in powerless dormancy, there was long a campaign of some decades’ worth of memetic trimming, hedging, editing, doubting and thereby rendering safe the now nearly lost St. Crispian video evidence, a compilation of several adjacent personal cameras, catching the hundred and ninth floor’s shattering windows, comparatively uneventful to the hundred and fifth floor’s entire North Eastern panes being blown to sunlit shimmery smitherines, that being mere prologue to the tenant flotsam of deskchairs, wheeled laboratory stools, tumbling flasks, jars that enswirled the outwardly tumbling, leaping or thrown heavily armored soldiers, more than once one of their lot being hurled into a line or echelon of them and send them all plummeting out of the shakily tracing cameras. The Red One’s ocular feed went incommunicado when she descended into the tower’s electronically sealed floors, and only a few seconds of the minutes worth of the Point-of-View combat footage have ever circulated around the memetic exchanges, public facing streams having long been purged of her.

>>14418475
In her place, there instead unfolds a disorderly evacuation of a hundred and thirty story Privateer Fortress looming above the arboreal Floresia Seastead, and not what it truly was, a fruition of the human into the transcendent, the reverberations of her given all still being felt as I speed this lone report. Tricity bazaars have long been discovered, same as the Triads. And while winning their trust is another challenge, you may find some Red One relic vendors amongst the Bedouins, Kakars, Sinti, Appalachi, even the Deshi aquavarians, masked discretely from the hunt to purge all her traces inside unsuspecting ornaments encoving data housings, reachable only by gently tapping with precise hammers as to crack open the data vendor’s choice of pewter plums and peaches and pomegranates or Buddha bellies, roosting hens or nursing sows, providing the purchaser an all too brief segment of the Spire Siege not yet lost to the Herodian data hunt, most often a tottering monocular frame clinging to the sheer inexplicability of it, the not moving per sapient mechanics at all, seeming to spring from foe to foe, as a gut catabolizes The Red One disassembled floor after floor of heavily armed combat teams with what seemed like a pair of glowing gladii, and as some storytellers attest, an increasing amount of battle-tattered, barely clinging clothing. Assuming the briefest and only vaguely anthropic poses, the she-machine put to work the incalculable agilities of her omnidirectional extremities and quantum tunneled firing solutions, becoming more a micro-weather system, a sentient tornado, always protected from the most whithering fire from the upright remains of her foes, the simple math of it, some of the older ones tend to always point out, was that The Red One had fought and won a thousand battles and the mercenaries at best had maybe ten to twenty. There were tricks and feigns and ruses she’d have seen ten times before they saw it played once before them, let alone master its use. She was pure, it was said, the Red One, a thing once a real woman, born in the late twentieth century even, but then pressed into cybernetic service by the coercice psychological elements normative to her time. It would be more than a hundred years hence her biological birth for those trends to be pushed back, for society to have had enough and try something different.

What kind of work or style might push Megan out of autofiction? Not that there's any reason for her doing so, it'd be interesting seeing her take to another form.

“First time?”
“Y-yeah, it is.”
“I’m not expecting anything nutty. Just keep your cool and don’t do anything that might challenge the deal. I’m the only one who gets to do that, ok? Follow my lead but otherwise just be cool and quietly intimidating in the background.”
“Got it.”
“You also have a bone fragment in your hair.”
“Oo-Oh, shit.”
“Room one twelve.”
“Nice color by the way.”
“…”
“That real?”
“mm, yes, it’s real, quite real.”
“Sorry, most of the time the auxiliaries are a bit larger, less comely chaps.”
“Comely?”
“Oh right, American girl.”
“That’s me.”
“You seriously don’t know ‘comely?’”
“I know it’s kinda a bit much to say.”
“Why must everything be gibbered cumspeak with you New Worlders - “Gawrsh you’re hot, Missy!”
“And yet this is where you find work, no?”
“Here to see Blanco. After you, doll.”

Cyber scalps hung in the tannery
Holsters hung, just bedded mastery
Floresian fields bloodied Calvary
Tao’s burn notice, jungle quackery
Liveblog tours, Meg drone gallery
Miles upon of human hatchery
Century since eating a calorie
Butcher blimp broadcast menagerie
Megan atop, zero refractory
Ball-sockets rev robot saddlery
Cratered holes, bursted granaries
Apt diodes blink across mammary
Celt’s Epicanthics stare through me
Perfectly tossed bedside raspberry
Immune to even advanced flattery
Robot bits cease her femme waggery
Lighting spirits in Red One avowry
“I’m finna cobble some blackberry”
Prophets attend Meghead Jamboree

Like houellebecq but less relatable. Am I missing the point?

Within the first antecavern awaited two Parsis who lit the lamps on their heads and struck sporty galesh strikes ahead of us down a narrow threading of subterranea, slinking speedily through a shifty man-sized hole and into a few minutes of single-filed headlit crawling for us to emerge into the ossuaried labyrinths encircling the open air dahkma, an immaculate platform colored by the bright sun recalled sand, but was nearly as smooth as marble, said to be an effect of the centuries of excarnation and solar energies petrifying the remnant sheens unswept by the dutiful Parsis who kept the site pure and ready to receive the dead for burial.
For some centuries, the flocks of avian scavengers who could dispose of the deceased's fleshy remains had been in decline, and it was not until the convergences of several runaway agribusiness interventions upon the "Insectome" on the behalfs of investors that there were finally sufficient carnivorous arthropods to consume the non-skeletal remains of the dead in a predictable enough time to be tightly incorporated into the appropriate ritualistic praxis.
The pair of Parsi priests disappeared down a sacrosanct stairwell hidden from the non-Zoroastrians and gracefully hoisted back up to the immaculate platform the the long basket containing Tao's remains, placing them just off the rough center of platform, careful to keep the blessed tapestries covering his remnants tucked into the mortuary basket until Megan, kneeling several steps from where they placed the liter, took into her whatever she could receive at this late and doleful hour. The wind whipped and the sun was harsh. Not a recent wound upon her had yet healed and the Priests had insisted upon rebandaging her before permitting Megan her exceptional entry into these highly reserved rites. She had not spoken since taking the cleaver and separating Tao first along joints, elbows, knees, a heck of a time with each hip, cleaving the femur into decimeter length chunks and then halving those, per the Priests instruction, chopping also the wrists and ankles, splitting the torso into similar sized chunks as the upper legs, and then scooping the bits and the blessed fabrics placed beneath the preparations and placing them in the basket which Megan carried by her enhanced non-human arms and so caused a bit of a philosophical quandary she resolved to put to the Professor later if she ever found him again, asking him if she could be thought to be ritualistically unclean when a non-human thing had touched the unclean dead? She didn't know what larger points to make, only that she wanted to bring it up to David, to see what he would do with it, what he might say to her. It had been so long.

>>14421876
Depends on your demographic, but Megan's pretty relatable. Most people brush over those parts of their lives. But they do happen.

>>14421876
Houellebecq is more hopeful, if that's the word. Liveblog is like a quicksand suicide

>>14355984
i'm not reading liveblog, megan.

>>14425195
You don't have to read it all in one go! For instance, I'm partial to the morning vibe and bedtime ritual energies you find in many of Megan's Liveblog days. She's able to capture illusive parts of being human.

>>14425195
Megan has a Dunham-esque nose for subversive silly nakey girly time.

>>14355984
Wow, DFW looks like such a fag

>>14425195
Many Megheads start this way, fyi.

>>14357573
I see sincerity as a mental exercise done to unwind the trappings of irony. Permitting any belief, even an affirmation of the sky's color, to be held without being assailed by the televisual tulpas haunting our internalized viewerships, why it feels strange to feel a truth just hang there, unassaulted, un-undermined, un-ridiculed.

>>14356015
I developed a style called shiftless unbrushed unwashed autist and if I didn't work then I'd still be living it

>>14425803
Cool, Anon. What'd you write with it?

Was Megan a student of DFW?

>>14427102
Her Youtube videos have shown a shrine to DFW she built with a pair of reading glasses and a costume goatee

>>14427102
she compares liveblog to infinite jest half ironically and she is following his footsteps through the whole rehab thing

lets go for longest running thread on 4chan lit

preserving epic bread

>>14428332
>12 days
one more day lads

>>/lit/thread/S5854028

How many are we going for today, Megan?
I’m excited and want to say ten, but realistically, five?
Five?
Yeah, five.
Excellent. You can begin whenever.
Whenever?
Yes, whenever you’re ready, start with the smallest weight.
Got it.
Remember, Megan, visualize the pinching. Focus on it like there is nothing else in your head. There is just you and those colorful weights.
Ok. Got it.
When you’re ready-
One.
Great! One.
Two.
Nice work, Megan. Two. Excellent.
Huh-and I fuck up again. Fuck me. Fuck my life. Fuck this.
Megan, I’m sorry you are frustrated. This is not easy. Many people cannot make the leap to this grade of enhancement. It needs the highest measures of stimulation and training to incorporate with your brain.
It’s just-uuuuh, I hate this. Can I just get human arms again? What the fuck, honestly? What the fuck did you do to my body, you fuckers? I should have you all fucking arrested for fucking assault!
Megan, please, you are dealing with a great change, one that is commensurate with a measure of trauma, and you have been doing great, truly, honestly. Most patients blow up at me at around the second or third visit if they don’t do it on our first day.
Fuck, I’m a terrible patient. Please, don’t hate me. I just don’t know why I also had my legs removed so far in advance, like, I kinda enjoyed them, and now I’m bound to this stupid chair being tortured, politely, encouragingly, by you, for, what? The past sixty days?
Sixty five, today is the sixty fifth day of your programming after your double total arm enhancement surgeries.
You’re doing great. You’re an exemplary candidate, believe me, more people are rooting for you than you realize.
Ok, like, your nurses? They’re cool, but I don’t think they’re much of a support network once I leave here and return to my pod.
Megan, I want you to try again. I think you can get to three. That middle digit is completely different from your old one, so give yourself a break. It’s different dimensions, a bit longer, consumes far more energy and oxygen from your blood stream, so it will feel different. But it is the same motion you already know.

>>14429766
That’s what you keep telling me.
Get to three, Megan. I know you can do it.
One.
Great.
Two.
Amazing! You go, girl!
And th- wait, c’mon. Oh my god. I am going to flip out. I am going to walk out of here and throw myself into a fissile pit and just watch my arms erupt in sparks, I’ll leave this world crackling like bacon.
Megan, you shouldn’t joke about that. People have ended their own lives due to the programs challenges.
Yeah. Ok, Doc. Got it.
Let’s take a break. Why don’t you eat a banana.
What flavors do you have today?
Good question, I’m not sure let me-
Hi, it’s just me, sorry! I’m sorry to interrupt, Doctor Duncan, but a device rep is here about the new ankle platforms.
Oh great, please tell him to have a seat in my office and I’ll be with him shortly. This is my last patient before lunch.
Will do. How you doin’ darlin?”
I’m doing great, save for my hands not working.
I know-
Pardon me, Marsha?
Yes, Dr. D!
What are the banana flavors we have today?
Great question! We have – and I just checked this morning when I got in so I know for sure
Marsha is the best, Megan.
I know.
Oh y’all are too sweet! But ok! We have…durian, cinnamon, ascetic, double banana, crunchy and swirl.
Wow.
I know!
What is the swirl?
Oh, mango. It’s mango swirl.
Mango swirl?
I haven’t tried it, but the rest of them are great. We got a big ol’ solarium full of em, delivered every week. Cute shoes, Dr. D!
Thank you, Marsha, I got them last night. This is the kinda thing you can wear in a non-hospital private setting.
The nurses nicknamed Dr. D the “Fashionista”
Oh, that’s cute. I like that.
We’re a good team, aren’t we, Marsha?
Oh, we love our Dr. D! What can I get you, babycakes?
I know I’ve tried the double and liked it, but I’d like to go for, maybe uh, um the mango swirl, I think.
Not an ascetic girl?
Not the way this days going, no.
Well keep your spirits up, dearie. I’ll be right back with a mango swirl!
One for me too, Marsha!
Not a problem, Dr. D!
She’s the best.
Love her, I really do.

>>14429768
Take a deep breath, Megan. A few of them. This isn’t easy. You need to be kinda a crazy fanatic to push through the stupidly difficult parts of it. That’s the best way its been explained to me by someone with three times the experience in these integrations.
How long have you been doing this?
A little more than ten years.
Wow, still, though that’s-
Oh, it’s a chunk of experience, but I’ve yet to train a pianist, let alone a surgeon. My director, even the CMCO have more than fifty years doing what were doing and they’ve sent people to the Paralympics.
Wow, oh cool, that’s-
Pretty amazing, huh?
Yeah! But, yeah, I’m pretty far from that.
Megan, you are on a long, arduous journey. And even after each of your new hands can pick up these weights and as many sticks over there as we put in front of you, you’ll have to learn the martial arts that come with these new capabilities.
Yeah, I’m really not looking forward to that, although I enjoy physical activity, I really do.
We have such excellent trainers. You’ll love them.
I really hope so. I’m gonna be leaning on them as I’m getting tossed around like a Gary’s Mod barrel.
I’m sorry, I don’t get the reference. Is that a band?
No, not exactly but I should have known that wouldn’t work here. Sorry, it’s a dumb reference.
You’re pretty self-critical, even with all the stuff we have pumping into you.
Yeah, I’m an odd bird.
Hey, Dr. D! Hey Megan! Here ya go! There you are, Sweetie.
Thank you!
Dr. D!
Thanks, Marsha.
My pleasure, as always! Gooo Team Megan!
How is it?
Oh-omph, iss rlly gud, sorry, I’m used to eating alone since coming here and taking bites that would disturb decent people.
You have to believe me when I tell you – this is pretty good, I’ve never tried one of these.
Really?
I just don’t eat at the clinic.
Makes sense.
Yeah, I’m a weird bird like that.
No wonder we get along.
Truth.
Ok.

>>14429773
You want to do this?
Yeah, I want to do this.
Can you see it in your head?
Yes.
Can you feel it in your head?
I-yeah, I do.
It’s not your thumb, remember. Thumbs working great. We got to two on that thumb. We just need it to find that sexy long finger and plant a big thumb smooch on that finger’s pasty tip.
Right.
Just think about that middle finger, feel it in your head going up, going down, bending, pointing, jabbing. Feel everything you can do with it.
Ok. Yeah, I got it. I’m focused.
One! Great, Megan! Two! Three! Four! Five! Woohoo! You are incredible! Absolutely incredible!
Wow. Woah. Ok, I’m happy.
Cot dam bananas, knowm sayin?
You are so right, haha! Wew that feels good.
You want to try some sticks.
I do, yes. Ok, let’s finish our snack and we’ll try some more exercises.
Great! Thank you, Dr. Duncan.
This is why we do this, Megan.
I feel so good.
You should.
So, I don’t have to do this with my legs? Once I get them?
Yes, that is correct. Your legs are given a general kinetic motor “template” as we like to call it. Your legs, knees, ankles do pretty simple, predictable motions. Your feet strike the ground more or less in the same way, every time. But your hands do far more things and they are fundamentally expressive too, writing, typing, tool manipulation. The domain of the hand is very different and so we train you differently.
Cool.
Yeah, it’s pretty thought out. We’ve been doing this for awhile.
So I’ll just wake up with legs that work?
More or less, yes. There’s phases and validation tests, some more fine tuning, pretty much always fine tuning and maintenance, adjusting to smaller and smaller details as time goes on. These systems are designed to learn, “Potentiate” as the device reps put it.
“Potentiate?”
They needed a term to capture that its beyond human capability what you’ll do, giant leaps, whip fast locomotions. The architecture of the technology doesn’t really have much of an upper limit on speeds, mobility or even power for that matter.
But it’s a blank slate when you get them bolted onto your shoulders?
Well, we upgraded your shoulders too, hard to tell underneath those bandages.
Jeez, well I guess I’m glad.
It’s a great system you have there.
Thanks?
Own it, girl. That system is you now. Be proud of it.
I’m gonna!
There you go! See, you gotta get pumped, like really pumped up, hyped, psychically spinning. You needa get to like, ‘Zealot’ level, Megan. It’s all mind tricks at the upper ends of performance. It’s just insanity coupled to a machine that turns it into kinetic work, hopefully graceful, useful, kinetic work.
Ok.
It’s just a foretaste of programming later on, so don’t take all that in too much.
Too late-
Megan, at this phase, we’re basically nurturing you like offspring.
Well, I certainly need it.

>>14429777
You’re doing great, Megan. All reports reflect a driven and talented candidate.
I appreciate hearing that. Sometimes I’m in the dark for awhile and its just like room, cafeteria and hand therapy, wheeling myself around the facility. It’s a nice place too, don’t get me wrong.
I’d tell you I could get you on some more activities or prescribe you a romantic companion maybe?
Are you sick?
What? No one turned off your libido, Megan. I’m only mentioning it as something that helps patients mentally and spiritually. Self stimulation does not produce the same benefits.
Oh now that’s funny. I wonder what it would feel like to be demoralized by shittily masturbating yourself with a hand that only half works for a minute of every fricken day!
Well, let me know. There’s excellent therapists here, whatever your tastes.
This is a lot to process, I just cant get on that level right now.
I understand, I get it. I wanted to mention it. They’re paid by us to satisfy our candidates, so you’d be doing them a favor.
Wow, you like read my profile and know how to really convince me, huh?
Sorry, I’ve overstepped. Let’s move on, Megan.
Ok, sorry, I-
You’re fine.
I think the thing that’s fucking with me, I’m sorry, saddening me the most powerfully, is my inability to type. I have tried to type one stupid word and these expensive, mannequin hooks just splay or bend in weird useless ways. I can’t control a damn thing on here.
Megan, you just showed me, showed yourself, otherwise a minute or two ago.
Ok, yeah, ok, maybe yeah.
It will come, Megan. But you must keep on and not give up. Don’t stop now.
Ok.
Ok?
Ok, yeah. Let’s keep going.

Yo, it's two thousand twenty
I want y'all to meet Megan Boyle, broil, not no small heat
It's all bleat in this day and age
I'll blade your knaves, anything it takes to save the day
Sinceremancer, perfect blend of earnest and tragic
Use my blogging so you all can see the hazards
Plus entertainment where many are brainless

>>14429766
we're going to collect and publish these dont worry

anyone's got her footpic with the 4chan tattoo?

>>14431069
I don't think that's her foot, oddly enough. I think it might be a dude she was dating. The caption mentioned it was the first tattoo applied to the photographed body, "baby's first stick and poke," iirc.

From MC Megan's Liveblog:
>yeah i wear a target dress when i go to target
>and you know it's my dress cause i got it at target
>my shoes an my dress got em both at target
>and if you tryna mess we goin outside target

>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang all target eythang

>a birthday dad is a birthday occasion
>step in line to the checkout least ragin
>scanner shut down but dads stay agin
>barcode price check hurts when they page em
>red shirt uniforms all upstagin
>Fred Durst rearrange em

>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang all target eythang
>all target eythang paid free mason

*tolerates anal sex in your path*

>>14364999
Brittney Venti?

>>14432820
I really enjoyed her slapstick reel article:

A drunk driver rear-ended my mom’s car. It was night and his lights were off. My mom was driving. I heard her yell my name, then the words “control” and “steering wheel.” Something collided with my head and my face felt wet. I thought, “my eye is coming out,” then “no,” then, “guess this is how I die, I die with Mom,” as the car came to a stop. Mom seemed obsessed with finding her registration. Turned my head and saw that a back door was gone. A woman holding a phone approached my side of the car. She said, “You need to call an ambulance” and walked away.
-Age 25

Frequently mispronounced “Audrey Niffenegger” while assisting customers at the bookstore where I worked.
-Ages 22-25

Walked around Iowa City with my ex and argued intensely about something I forget. We had each ingested a small amount of LSD. Coconuts and a large knife were in our motel room. I took a coconut to the bathroom and started hacking it open. My hand slipped and the knife landed in my finger. Warded off pain by envisioning it as lines I needed to stack in a high level of Tetris. Received four stitches and multiple Novocain injections from a med student who indicated she was aware of “messing up.” Have a scar and a small area of my finger is numb.
-Age 25

Woman in Spain acted like she thought I was stealing fruit. Accidentally called her ‘Pedro’ while trying to say “Can I buy this” in Spanish. -Age 25

>>14432916
But the funniest thing Megan's maybe ever referenced might be:
>Truck-driving instructor told me he was in Desert Storm and had PTSD. Asked him what that felt like. He said, “I’m always thinking something’s out to get me.” I said, “Me too, but I don’t have a reason.” Started very vocal inside joke about things “getting us” that maybe alienated other students.
-Age 26

13 days!!!!

someone who has twitter please send this thread to megan

i wish tao lin would get more recognition here. Hes the absolute anti-normie and most autistic writer out there and yet /lit/ clinges onto the image of him being some pretentious pseud.

>>14433733
>anti-normie
>most autistic
he has sex
I've seen it

>>14433733
I've noticed him more as a result of this thread. I like his Quora MKultra article and I'm going to read it a few times over the next couple days. Tao puts in the work. He's quite admirable, with the caveat that most writers are bitten by unusual.

>>14433722
she started and perpetuates this garbage thread. so no need to send it to her. I wish it would die already.

The dully darkened quarters bathed the sleeping sailors in an HVAC hum speckled by sonorous nasal gulps and epiglottial drummings of the two snorers, Nora and Laura, two of the heftier girls in the program, whose assigned beds happened to also sandwich Megan in nightly blanketings of respiratory and digestive terror, their noises growing familiar to Megan as of this arrangement's sixth week. To her left had now long been Nora's Buddhic moonlit shirt curtained belly gusting the methanogenated excesses of her cafeteria tray daily brimming with greens, reaping both cooked and fresh from the Navy contractor "Greens Zone" salad bar, heaping onto her tray by means of a jaw dropping Mentos-popping confidence evident in Nora's adorably stubby pawings of thick clumps of spinach and moringa with no care for tongs. "They're gross," she explained to Megan, when she asked her about it once, the only sailor to approach the six foot four size ten Nora. Megan couldn't help but picture Nora's exemplary intestines awash in chlorophyll and a turbulent mass of uncatabolized cellulose, ploughing wobbly animal and grain bits down and out of her, an auditory and olfactory spectacle occurring between 0500 and 0520 every morning, unless there had been a prolonged overnight exercise, then it might shift until 0900ish. Nora and Laura both produced noises that worried sleepless Megan. She would wonder if this was indeed some sort of Neptunean pleasing happenstance so characteristic to Navy life. Thoroughly Stage IVing, Nora and Laura slept like it was their job, like they were gluttons for it. Megan turned to three quarters prone, feeling her weight brace against the points of her hip and anterior knee, the softish bed sheets having warmed and absorbed how many before her? Megan felt as if she slept upon a holy vestment, pensive and floating navigators and engineers and administrators and admirals checking in on the current sleeper or sleepless user, as in Megan's case for the past few nights. And it's not like she couldn't use it. Her muscles not just pulsed in waves of soreness but they even and sizzled, prickings and jabbings lurking in Megan's torsional leanness in now the third hour of scheduled somnolent inactivity where she found her ear drums the noise slave to Nora and Laura, their sounds making her hamstrings and deltoids and groin spark and tick in the way a hard driven automobile does once powered down and sheltered in a garage.

Laura was a side sleeper as Megan had grown to be in these types of quarters, and so it was not uncommon for them both to face each other. On heavy lift days, Laura, a bit of a freak of nature to begin with, would not only fall asleep by such rapidity it made Megan hate her in fiery envy, but she would have to also be extra weird about it by rolling her eyes up into her partially lifted eyelids, exposing a double Sanpaku canvas that all but confirmed to Megan's gut that Laura was messed up somehow, and had overcome something of which Megan would never be privy. She had walked in on Laura once, in one of the unmonitored closets where ironable drone logos are kept, finding the rippling slightly androgenized back of Laura statuesquely plowing a literal pile of naked humans, a male and female boyfriend/girlfriend type couple to be precise. The two apparently knew of this other side of Laura and requested their friend to don a hefty hip hung over-under strap-on phallus solution built by the 3D Constructor at the Baltimore Foundery makerspace to accommodate a multi-orifice simultaneous coitus. Laura donned and drove her hips with generous gusto, her spent energies seen in the beaded sheen of glistening perspiration dribbling across her mountainous shoulders and trapezius, then the briney tributaries darting down her lattissumus dorsi. Everything above Laura's iliac Crest rippled in exertional inflammation, puffy and proud. Beneath that crest was a starkly smooth posterior plumping through the fitted straps serving as her only clothing. Since then, since Laura had quipped "You mind, carrot top?" To which Megan bashfully, and she thought, gracefully apologized, shutting gently and quietly the closet door, and tried to forget it. But Laura had also a knack for awaking at just the right time for just long enough to flirt with or tease Megan. Finding her sleepless fellow sailor on her side and facing Laura was a temptation that elicited from Laura the most forward winks and lip licks that both chilled Megan's spine and only once ever kind of seemed hot. That was after she'd not slept for three days on an exercise. She was then so delirious and underfed and beat up from drills that her coping mind went to thinking about making love to trees and that their roots weren't a deal killer so long as there's no allergy issues. And yeah so in that case, Laura's not so bad. But otherwise, she wasn't Megan's type. They were always polite to one another in Chiropody Lab and whatever their simple social relations, they both ascribed to the girl code of lending without any hesitation to another woman your electric toothbrush with an understanding she'd return the favor if you ever needed it for purposes outside of oral hygiene.

>lone surviving shill tells investigators about the woman who slayed his friends, but only after convincing most of them they'd sinned so gravely against universal human values that it was morally necessary to end them
>the Sumo who wrestles a freshly enhanced Megan who until then was unsure of her new legs, grappling with the wily, agile ginger spright for several hours, ending in a tie, the Sumo is so awed and poetically infatuated he goes to great lengths to produce illicitly a clone of Megan's ova and sires septuplets gestated by simultaneous surrogacy. They gingerized Japanese maintain a shrine to Megan to this day
>Megan sneaking up on DFW deep in his VR studies to challenge him to a fight, always in a non-megan avatar, calling out, "Wittgenstein was incomplete, sissy bitch!" And only ever breaking character when DFW's virtual avatar was a florrid and sweaty mess of violent table-tossing rage
>Narrative of leg surgeries

>>14435677
>Also need a story where Megan's running on water at the NSW cyborg proving ground

H

>>14434464
doubt

>>14434464
>>14436100
Meggo is too busy and too healthy for these dumb places. Please don't distract her!

>>14434464
How would you know this if you weren't Megan, Megan?

>>14355984

>>14433603

>>14437846
Going to try making her apartment in Doom for a weaponless Liveblog mod

>>14437925
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Aa2K_firtI

>>14437925
are you just gonna a room to walk around in or will there be gameplay?

>>14438983
So far it's only two cats and a player starting point in two adjacent sectors. I'm familiar with the mod community's conversation solutions and this is a fun way to build out some dialogue trees.

>>14439129
>dialogue trees
nice

Hoping to get this thread to 300 quickly so it dies off.

weird bitch got lazy eye

>>14439171
She is ugly. Like if Ciara were in a car crash.

>>14439161
Automeganophilia has become an unstoppable self-sustaining force, Anon. It's unclear what happens next, but we should all hold fast to our butts.

>>14439246
Lets get to 300

>>14439171
Megan was gifted the Oracle's strabismic sight. She always has an eye scanning for the otherworldly.

>>14439129
i endorse this
please make an encounter with a shade of megans father

>>14439288
>She always has an eye scanning for the sincere.
FTFY

>>14439171
>>14439288
>>14440071
I unironically love girls with lazy eyes. It's cute and makes them seem kind of stupid and approachable. My teenage love had a slightly lazy eye. She was gorgeous otherwise and that slightly awkward imperfection propelled her into a figure of worship. Of course I never confessed my feelings to her.

A flat mud is interrupted, sliding down a cresting dome, an unmistakable rising head with kiltered epicanthic glares. Lids blink across the unwavering feline irises. They fixate upon the sentry as he puffs on the last half of a rolled cigarette. Another drag, a whimsical scan of tree tops and clouded stars is all she needs to pounce. Through the crickety dins and froggy songs comes a whooshing roar from the mud. Her noises are to his back. Not yet at the apex of her leap, she’s tucked the sentry’s forehead into the crux of her wrist as a player cradles a football, pulling him backwards and into her other climbing fixed blade. The knife’s travel had ceased on the other side of the sentry’s hyper-extended neck just as Megan wrapped her legs around the torso of the tumbling man, pulling him back into the rain dappled mud pit in a frothing, fizzing hiss that cut barely through the jungle’s nocturnal buzzings, the ordeal no more than two to three seconds.

“We’ve got a fix on her location, Sir. Looks like she survived the crash and is operational.”

“Communication?”

“Negative. Systems are up but she’s not responding.”

“Anyone with her?”

“No sign of her Shaman buddy. Thirty signatures in the house, four pairs of armed foot patrols. Minus that poor bastard on the pier.”

“Where’d she go?”

“Location is still down, Sir.”

“IR, EM?”

“Can’t she, like, feel those spectra?”

“Yeah, man it’s like weather to her. She just moves upwind-”

“You’re telling me she’s gone?”

“No, she’s here-“”

“Show me.”

“She went under right here.”

“She’s gonna surface and we’ll find her. She’ll light up like a beacon.”

“Yo', dude, how do you not know?”

“Not know what?”

“God dammit. She’s gone. Keep looking. Call me when you find her.”

>>14440160
This is really funny. I've been Liveblogging some oafishly cringetastic fawnings that any Anons are free to ply Megan with if you can get on her social calendar (good luck):
>Oh, you don't say? I assumed Roadrunner turned one of your spring-flung mallets against you.
>I didn't even notice. Rollerblading, like the Latin woman, can be a hazardous Mistress, no?
>That's a telltale sign of alien abduction. Do you dream about the Grey's?
>Milking injury at a dairy? Seriously, though, fuck Holsteins, am I right?
>Did Mira drop a leaden bong on your head?
>I figured you were faking it.

I want to try Megan's "the least you can do smoothie":
2 bananas
1 large bunch spinach
ice

>>14441178
dont neg meg meg

>>14443082
Now I feel gross. I would only ever say those stupid things to Megan Boyle with the expectation that she would respond with something far more amusing, sarcastic or heart-rending. They're softballs served for her knifeness to knapp against.

"Try and tell us whatever you can, Sir."
"Anything you can recall will help us."
"She-"
"Help us help your friends, ***"
"She - We didn't even hear her enter."
"Where were you when all of this happened?"
"I was- I was in the Workroom 220B. I had just gotten a fifteen minute notification for the next meeting."
"And what is it you do at.."
"...Blue Records, LLC. Established 2017."
"I- we, Blue Records helps ideas survive in the modern media environment."
"So, you're a PR firm? Marketing?"
"We use some of the same techniques, but we're different."
"Do you have customers?"
"Blue Records kinda has clients but they're also the founding patrons. It's a pretty small business."
"Do you have any idea why someone would do this to Blue Records employees?"
"We are a vanguard for progressive ideas but we're not at all public, so even if she was some Nazi, I don't know how she found us. They told us we were at a secure location."
"They?"
"Our patrons-"
"Mr. ***, Mr. *** and Ms. ***?"
"Well, I've never met them, but our director has met them, I think."
"Did they never visit these offices?"
"No, but there's really no need. It's just aisles and racks of devices and our workstations. I'm sure they're as heartbroken about what happened as I am."
"Of course."
"Any idea why she spared you?"
"She - huhh"
"Take your time, Sir."
"You're helping us help your friends. And you're doing a great job."
"You mentioned she was armed?"
"Yes, heavily, two huge hand cannons."
"Could you describe them?"
"Silver, shiny barrel, huge, I think a cowboy type gun with the roller thing."
"Revolver?"
"Were both of them revolvers?"
"Yes, but the first thing she did upon entering the main office floor was removing them from her waistband and shoulder holster and clunking them down by the Keurig."
"Patrons couldn't spring for an espresso machine?"
"We're defending democracy, so, no, budgets have to fight against the waves of stupid fascists and trolls and their millions of bots."
"Would you say you make enemies based on your work?"
"Oh yeah, without a doubt. I just know we keep some of those crazies sleepless."
"How so?"
"Some people hate democracy and progressive values. That's why we were established, basically, to make sure they don't ruin everything and backslide us into the *** or something."
"Sounds like you're very passionate about your work."
"We all were."
"Can you tell me what happened after she set down the handguns?"
"She-"
"Take your time."
"She unplugged our die-cast Breville toaster."
"Ok."
"Please, continue."
"Tell us whatever you can."
"She said something like, "There'd be too much heat if she was 'overly expedient' and she 'liked the challenge."
"Did anyone try to challenge her?"
"Oh yeah, Paul, Eric both cried out, "Fascist!" and rushed her right after she disarmed and was unplugging the toaster from behind the microwave."
"What happened next?"
"She-"
"I know this is difficult, ***"
"I'm sorry, I-"
"You're doing great."

Ok Meganposter, you are currently at 19339 words, if I've included everything correctly. (poems, cybermegan, strange passages of black vernacular) More than halfway to novella length.

>>14443820
Thank you, Anon. I wasn't intending the AAVE to be in there. it just kinda bled in from another project, but I think it could be fun to Baltimorize it and build some witnesses to the Megan phenom.

>>14362249
Dat sum scary shit, yo.

How the fuck is this thread still up?

>>14444322
In God, all things are possible.

yo pops cant take mo than one bite a his chicken befo puttin it down
pfft
phwt
man
he dont know
hell no he dont
i guess not
what dont i know?
man, how the hell he not know?
he knows he know
tell me what?
why dont you eat yo chicken, little one?
i am eatin it, fool
you gonna get yo ass whooped talkin like that
nigga, fuck you
fuck you, nigga
Don't waste food you two! Stop it!
Errythang alright down there?
Yes, Mama
Yes, Mama
man, fuck you tryna fuck up my chicken with yo bullshit
aint bullshit, it some jamaican hot sauce. aint gonna kill you, oreo
man, you talk alot of shit for a third grader
i'm in fourth grade, punk
pff man he ridin you
yeah he aint takin no shit yo
Eat yo chicken, little one
See! Pops just put down that drumstick.
He got the rheumatism
The what?
his hands hurt
why?
you would too if you heavyweight division for mo than a decade
he a weightlifter?
boxer
yeah, pops was damn good too. ran a gym till it burned down.
how you think a former champion feel when he too hurt to eat some fried chicken, let alone the good stuff
yeah this the good shit right here man
fuck, man, I can't stop, i stopped tryin
those some clean bones man
so Pops was a champion?
anyone tell you eat chicken like a anorexic white lady?
leave him be, Darius
You are such a shithead.
Everything alright down there?
Yeah we good, Mama!
Y'all eatin 'nuff?
We otta corn bread.
Well the cot dam waiter disappeared, honey, we get you some more when we see him
Thank you, Mama
Thanks, Mama
Thank you, Mama Dearest
Kiss ass.
Pfft
Wooo
I can't top that.
Why don't pops take medicine?
Think he allergic or something.
Why don't you stop bringing it up?
Yeah, you think he cool with his golden years being fuggin scallopine and nuggets and tendies
yeah shut his bitch ass up
i jus sayin

>>14444322
thanks to sponsors like you

Megan saw the flashlights, fourish figures at the hallway lit door to their quarters. The door was kicked open and in descended such an extreme cacophony that barely rousing consciousnesses were propelled from their cots and bunks by some motorized protective force they'd all later comment was completely involuntary, dreamlike, excessive, almost fun, for a less than a second of this exotic para-somnolent pleasure, many of them had, unlike Megan, been canoeing or supine in a floral hillside or bedding a boy back home of from elsewheres, only to have their dream narratives crashed by the Naval Trainer's ladels ricocheting within metal pots, ceaseless shouting, even several unrememberable rhyming taunts and trainer-to-trainee ribbings that seemed reserved for only these types of early morning surprise inspections, causing their dreamt of boats to capsize them, their boyfriend to pull out from underneath them the bed linens and so send them flying like a forgotten coin, more than one girl reporting of an avalanche or mudslide or high-richter scale tectonic activity as their terror-awakened bodies stiffened and sprung by their tirelessly trained muscles, trained through several cycles even, giving the unfortunate droopy drowsers serious air, as they crashed onto bottoms, planted faces, bopped even snapped noses, bruising cheeks, the injuries from the morning and subsequent six days being a currency traded across their cohort and nightly tracked as part of the bed hour rituals during their shared swellings, inflammations and gradual discolorations concomitant to healing. The pre-sleep debridements, applications of bubbly peroxide, antiseptic solutions dribbled like pours of liquor across crimson violet knees and ruby shins and scarlet and rose ankle blisters and lesions that merged into several square centimeters of dermatologic renovation, the collection of ice and bags, the assembly of ice packs, the distribution of that precious counter-inflammatory tool, to say nothing of the collective building of story and legend behind each of the girl's wounds, their stunning original extent, their subtle and unexpected consequences, their envy for the wounds of another girl or else their feelings of fear and woe at what was inflicted upon their fellow sailor during the wholly designed and calibrated exercise, these came to bind the girls into a unit, cohere them into a more than a mere group of girls and into a warrior sisterhood synchronized across psionic nervous systems the same as their training cycles. They would learn to see for one another, calling out the ghostly reticle-cornerd swaths detected behind walls or mapped from other assets, moving swifty, quietly, flexible, eventually, to anything thrown in their way by the mischevious RDCs. But before all that was the first few groggy, gut-sunk pangs of Megan's bleary disbelief,

>>14444322
It’s because there is no real interest in this twat other than the twat who keeps bumping the thread so that it stays active. Get it to 300 posts so it’ll die off.

>>14445700
"Tonight, of all nights?" Megan thought, staring at her floor splayed hands, her wrapped right index finger, her purpled and cabernet finger nails almost pretty if not for how much they hurt, the result of being repeatedly stepped upon by the sailor climbing ahead of her on the obstacle courses.
Each girl was by now standing and seeing this, Megan bolted up to avoid the singling out inimical to dodging the mischievous pedagogies of the RDCs.
"Your feet are shit, sailor. What's your excuse?"
"We had a rucked urban slutwalk, RDC Campbell, Ma'am."
"Did someone sneak into your boots and curve your nails?"
"This sailor is sorry, Ma'am. This sailor will fix the problem, Ma'am."
"What about you? Is callus farming a trend I haven't heard about?"
"No, RDC Campbell, Ma'am"
"And you, why are the tops of your feet shaved, save for your big toe stubble?"
"I'm so sorry, RDC Campbell."
"Why are you standing still you disgusting foot sluts?"
"RDC Williams, please lead these putrid punks to the spa."
"My pleasure, RDC Campbell."
Hustled, coaxed, shouted and less than gently boot-nudged into a crawling single-file, we made our way to our quarter's attached spa for a long night of hygienic catch-up, calisthetics, stress positions, and always the Goddess-esque bellowed orders and rhetorical teases from RDCs Campbell, Williams and Torres.

qts

L E A V E
SOCIETY

Is Elon still a Tao fan?
>I've heard that Elon Musk is a fan of my writing, particularly my poetry. He has my new book Trip. After he reads it, he will probably want to smoke DMT, incorporate heavy cannabis-use into his life, and ingest psilocybin mushrooms alone in his room in silent darkness.

Wishing we still had RaceApp to make a black Megan Boyle...

>>14448229
And a white Tao. I need this in my life

Hair glinting, sweatily, smilingly pepped
Megan toes shower shallow’s effect
Steam valves on low, birthday suit bedecked
Immersed in mists, lathers to inspect
Steam dewed glass so shrouds reflect
Ritual wrapped oils, caps to dissect
Hyacinth and lily, jasmine swept
Super scents by her senses confect
Contemplative wanders inside inflect
Three days since last, full body project
Sponges for sopping, loofas to deflect

morphing a Megan boyle and Denzel Washington baby is the best 2019 internet will allow me to do

>>14448267

>>14448267
>>14448272
>>14448276
I don't see why Megan couldn't be melanated. The classic spook crafts for such things involved rubber African skin suits, Dinkas come to mind. Her recreation of her self via technology opens up so many possibilities. Plus, it might have some solar survival advantage essential for late 21st, early 22nd century life.

>>14448284
Why do I so intensely crave a Rhiannafied Meganomorph nose nestled into a poppy seed bun and dressed with mustard, onions and pickles, but a classic Megan nose from Caucasian versions of Megan seem like something you might, fancying it fruit, serve it on a whimsical cheese plate score beside guava preserves and runny sheep's milk or else score and deep fry that schnoz until a bubbly crust coats it's angles and bulbs, or if instead you see in Megan's nose a feast of morsels to be slow cooked till wobbly, you might prepare it via indirect heat, wrapping Megan's nose in a banana leaf and burying it in Hawaiian clay covered with a day-long pile of ashen neon coals, one struggles to find the Vedic gastronomy behind proboscoid carnivery. I shall take some time to indwell and internalize Megan's nose so I may conjur it at times of need.

Why do I so intensely crave a Rhiannafied Meganomorph nose nestled into a poppy seed bun and dressed with mustard, onions and pickles, but a classic Megan nose from Caucasian versions of Megan seem like something you might, fancying it fruit, serve it on a whimsical cheese plate beside guava preserves and runny sheep's milk or else score and deep fry that schnoz until a bubbly crust coats it's angles and bulbs, or if instead you see in Megan's nose a feast of morsels to be slow cooked till wobbly, you might prepare it via indirect heat, wrapping Megan's nose in a banana leaf and burying it in Hawaiian clay covered with a day-long pile of ashen neon coals, one struggles to find the Vedic gastronomy behind proboscoid carnivery. I shall take some time to indwell and internalize Megan's nose so I may conjur it at times of need

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UQwqEmue_-c

I am wholly convinced that Megan will be seen as the Dante of our generation

I'm so fucking tired of looking at this faggot coomer thread in the catalog. All of you niggerlovers kill yourselves RIGHT NOW

>>14355984
this thread alone is proof enough that /lit/ is full of thirsty coomers (except for that lesbian butter-mommy) admiring shittiest literature just because an author has a cunt.

SAGE.

>>14448835
I hope this means we get a dreadnought battleship named after Megan

Red light.
“Stand up, Hook up. Check those lines, check your equipment, ladies.”
This is what we do. This is what we do. This is what we do. This is what we do.
"Sound off for equipment check."
This is what we do. This is what we do..
"Lights off. One minute, ladies."
Doors are open. The scent of night sky.
"Thirty seconds!"
This is what we do. This is what we do. I am set. Textbook.
Slipping left, then slipping right. Two down from me.
I’m leaping left. Geronimo time.
“In Nuada’s name!”
Aerobatic energies thundering past limbs.
Bernoulli's Billy Bitches.
[...]
Corner, corner, corner, clear. Doorway, went right, so left. Courtyard, two uppers overlooking.
“Green, exo up to overwatch. Watch the south east road. Blue, downstairs.”
Stairwell to a dark cellar.
Third in stack, descending.
Scanning three-o-clocking zone
Flowing, feeling, untense, open to all inputs, all surprises.
Feeling building geometry, the coves and hides and sneaks.
“Two contacts down, three contacts down. Green team has overwatch.”

Drawn to the violent gurgles snoring inside Erin's postprandially protruded belly, Paul traced squiggles the jellied eels might be wriggling amidst the bean curd and garlic spinach smoldering inside.
"What are you brewing in there, my dear?"
"Dinner was soo good. I think, I know I ate too much. Ughurp, no regrets, though. Whew. I'm so bloated I'm going to float away."
"It was really nice."
"Sweetie, don't hate me, but I think we have to open a window."
"You know-"
"Yes?"
"If you, well, I don't want to disturb you-"
"No, what? Tell me, Pauly-wookins!"
"You don't have to do anything, just-"
"What?"
"I want to crawl under those sheets..."
"Oh yeah?"
"Oh yeah."
"Don't turn me on anymore, ugh, I'm so gross right now."
"No, you're really not. You're perfect."
"You're sweet."
"Erin, you're- I want you, I need you to trust me."
"I trust you, Paul."
"Well, you love me right?"
"Of course!"
"Well then please find it in you to imagine that I'm not joking and I'm completely serious when I tell you, and please don't make me beg, although I totally would but-"
"What?! Tell me already, silly!"
"I know you're holding back your flatulence."
"Oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm not sick, it's just new stuff for my tum-tums to deal with."
"No, no, I know. You're definitely not sick. Quite the contrary."
"Ok, you're just going to have to spill the beans."
"That's funny, punny even."
"What, Paul?"
"Would you hate me if I told you I just wanted to smell you, the concentrated you, the Erin that only slips out from that most taboo side of the human doughnut?"
"I thought you hated my stinks."
"No, no, they're just, intense and a balanced life can't smell like fermenting pheromones all the time."
"Yeah, ok. I'm-i'm still confused."
"Well, I want to crawl under those sheets and have you hold them tight, like I'm dependent on the linen billowed atmosphere."
"Like a fort?"
"Yeah, kinda like that."
"I can't have sex right now."
"That's ok, I just want to smell you."
"Ok?"
"I want you to feel ok with just, letting it go."
"uh"
"Please, Erin, just relax."
"Paul, tell me what you want."
"I want you to bear down on that bloatedness and rip some vicious winds. And I want to know what they're like."
"Ok."
"Please, Erin, it's not that weird."
"Please, Paul, it's actually a little weird, at least a little."
"Just once, please."
"Ok, I know you wont stop asking me about this."
"Hold on, Erin. Don't think. Just-hold that thought while I get in position..."
"Wait,"
"Don't over think this, Erin."
"We're doing this."
"Oh please please please, yes we are."
"You're completely sure?"
"Oh my god yes, please, Erin!"
"Um, like, just-"
"Yes, just push out your worst."
"You, you really want this?"
"Yes."
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, please!?"
"Ok."
"...yes?"
"Really?"
"Yes!"
"Like, really!?"
"YES!"
"Fuck, ok, here goes."
"Oh my god, yes!"
ppffffftttBROOOOOOOOP
"Honey, what's wrong?! Oh my god, Paul?"

>>14449362
cringe and bluepilled

>>14451484
Cringeophagia henceforth refers to the pursuit and digestion of cringe-inducing memes for the purposes of building better memetics, applying spirit and love to mend or else create anew a shared culture. Such a type would have become, perhaps through even this thread, no longer immune but actually powered by the silly hatreds and petty vitriols so emblematic of our times. And because one cannot strangle so many of those cringers, it's better to ensnare and dissipate their prickly double-syllabled products, devouring in whole their pipings origins as an amoeba. For this feast, one must be thankful.

Nice work, Megheads! All KPI's point to a second edition of Liveblog not being far off. When you're toasting family and friends, send some fizzy cheers to our authorette.

>>14452170
>All KPI's point to a second edition of Liveblog not being far off.
post link i dont beleive you

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!

>>14452435
May the coming decade's good tidings surprise you, Megheads and Meghaters.

Twenty Twenty, the dawning of the Age of Sincerity

Hey, Megheads, sprinkle petals windy
and sip soberly, sincerely divine
Sew start new age by freckles pinky
All ruin yielding to our design

Haters and knaves pour upon us
Seeded by our tao of poiesis
Philistines flinched by God-smote cuss
Past even death, frail new genesis

Hey, stale botmen and churling designees
Vape quickly coolest catchphrases
Top dead ideas yoked by bikinis
Choose soon your heavensent praises

>>14356015
It's crazy to me that this thread is still up

Hey, Megheads, sprinkle petals windy
and sip soberly, sincerely divine
Sew start new age by freckles pinky
All ruin yielding to our design

Haters and knaves pour upon us
Seeded by our tao of poiesis
Philistines flinched by God-smote cuss
Past even death, frail new genesis

Hey, stale botmen, churling designees
Vape quickly coolest catchphrases
Top dead ideas yoked by bikinis
Choose soon your heavensent praises

Sober super star, that is what you are
Hailin' Baltimar, fuckin with no bars
Sing away with me, your unknown scat tune
I'll do my best to recall, uh-huh

Happy Twenny Twangy from EST Megheads!

We're in the Red now friends. It has been a beautiful voyage but our time has come.

A Captain goes down with her ship.

>>14453890
Ai, ai, Captain!

>>14453890

>>14453890
To Poseidon we return, aquatics and apery our longest lost.

>>14454872
She's almost under, lads. Goddess-blimey she's beautiful