POST TITLE: What are the reviews on this product??

posted by: nenaimpura

( link to false webpage very accurately resembling an ecommerce platform, prompting users to sign in before they can see a 'product'. )

i was browsing amazoing and found this rly weird product LOL look ayt the reviews its obvi so fake.......

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Meika sighs, leaning back into her plush gaming chair and idly watching the webpage of the forum she posted this post to. This a pretty lowbrow trick, getting some stupid internet users to click on suspicious links and input sensitive information, but Meika usually doesn't do anything with it. If anything, she directly contacts those people to make fun of them a little bit, and then to warn them to never do shit like that again. It's not very sophisticated or robust, but it's a somewhat fun thing to fill her idle time with when she's too tired to do some actual hacking.

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Yeah, fire's pretty cool, Meika would have to admit. No, she's not an arsonist as far as she knows, but she's pretty confident that every human being has just a little bit of pyromania in them. In her head, that's just a universal part of the human experience, like it taps into some primal part of humanity's psyche, going way back into the age where cavemen first invented it. So, yeah, Meika's pretty content to just watch it blaze, and if this black-haired kid with a weird accent hadn't come along to suffocate the sizzling orange flames with a barrage of foam, Meika would have certainly let it continue. If it burned everything down, she would have blamed it on the University being cheap, probably. Though, if she thinks about a little harder, that's a pretty shitty thing to do, given how many people live in the dorms. Damn, empathy thwarts her again!

Regardless, she turns to Farrin. Oh, he's talking to her like she didn't know where the fire extinguisher was. Yeah, Meika thinks she can roll with this. She feigns shock, eyes going wide, looking down at the fire extinguisher with faux wonder. If he thinks she's dumb, no need to dispel those assumptions. "Woah, no way, really?" she wonders, staring up at him while her tail lashes like a whip behind her. Even though she's being sarcastic in this moment, her voice doesn't give it away, and in every regard she can be read as being genuine with her needling statements. "And here I thought that was just an art project! Oopsies! Good thing you showed up!"

She turns towards the smoldering microwave and, even though directly touching it seconds after it was extinguished leaves red, blistering welts on her fingers, Meika gently pushes the door of the microwave open with some struggle. From within it, Meika retrieves her hotpocket, now blackened, burnt to crisp, and, as she discovers as she clenches it in her fingers, completely hollow, all the filling that would have been inside now turned to smoke and ashes. Meika visibly despairs as she looks down at her now blackened palms, and her tummy grumbles, as if mocking her. "Noooo..." she whines, frowning in such a way so that her snaggletooth pops up over her top lip. "I'm so hungry..."

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A young woman careens down a Tokyo sidestreet on a motorcycle covered in crimson red decals. Her arms are bare to the heavy, humid air of summertime, and there is no helmet to be seen on her head, letting loose to the world her poorly cropped black-and-red hair and her blunt, messy bangs. In fact, all she's wearing is a black crop top and oversized jeans that are ripped along the knees, which makes it painfully obvious to anybody seeing this scene that this girl, Meika, has a wanton disregard for her own life. It doesn't help that she's short enough that her feet can barely reach the foot pegs, and her hands can barely reach the handles.

When Meika got this monster and proceeded to decorate it in the coolest decals she could possibly find, her mom was furious. Not because Meika could hurt herself, no, but because the daughters of aspiring entrepreneurial women certainly do not ride motorcycles. They don't get naval piercings either, nor do they wear jeans that are so frayed that their entire legs can be seen through the holes, but Meika did all of these things anyways, because if there's one truth in life, it's that life is too short to not do exactly what you want to do. So, when the roads are clear and there's few people to witness her feats of poorly-thought-out daredevilry, Meika takes this time to take her motorcycle out for a spin, and do the kinds of things polite young women would never even think of. In her head, the entire time she's riding, she can only think of one phrase—fuck you, mom! I do what I want!

That includes taking a turn too quickly and skidding into a dumpster at nearly fifty kilometers an hour, she supposes. The sound of tires screeching on concrete and the smell of melting rubber fills an empty alleyway as Meika, at nearly full speed, is sent flying from her motorcycle to the floor a few meters away, cringing and yelping with pain as she feels her skin shred on the sidewalk. Though the motorcycle is, surprisingly, alright, even despite denting the dumpster it now lays alongside, Meika certainly isn't. Curling into a ball, she curses under her breath as she nurses numerous patches of her arms and legs that have been rubbed raw with friction, blood staining her palms and skin hanging by threads at the site of the wounds.

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Meika is a disaster in all of the worst ways. She's a revolving door of the worst possible situations that could happen to a person, and while most people do not seek these moments out, Meika is unique in that she seems to be a magnet for misfortune, although perhaps magnet is not the right word. In fact, Meika does not passively attract trouble. She actively seeks it. Such is the character flaw that led to her getting disowned entirely, a punishment that her mother naively imagined might get Meika's life back on track. Alas, no dice. With more freedom, Meika has become worse. She's free to cause problems without any fear of the consequences, and, god, with her induction into UA University, Meika has not gone hungry in her search for fun.

That makes it all the sweeter when she does eventually sit down to relax from a long day of ruining her chances at a future. She has homework tonight, but who really gives a shit? Meika certainly doesn't. All she really cares about is playing Lethal Kombat, which has been a difficult task since she's still trying to save up money to buy a TV of her own. Luckily, UAU happens to be one of the most prestigious schools in the country (and people still wonder how somebody like Meika got in at all), and they retrofit all of their dorms with a common room that includes wall-mounted TVs, and not cheap ones either.

So, tonight, Meika's parked on a couch in her dorm common room, a controller in her hand, leaning back into the cushions and almost drowning in them as she slips her fingers effortlessly across the joysticks. It's all fun and games practicing combos in the training tool, but she's itching for a real fight by now.

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What nobody really tells you about what it means to be a bastard is that, sometimes, people don't really like you for it. Meika's no stranger to that, for sure—she's been quite disliked from the very moment she was born. What's really unfortunate is that, when one gets into the real world where adults start imagining that teenagers should have had their frontal lobes developed by now, Meika is, tragically, frontal lobeless. This fact is perhaps best demonstrated by the fact that, right now, she is sprinting past a junkyard with at least three big jugs full of movie theater popcorn bouncing around in her arms, eyes wide with adrenaline and heart pounding a mile a minute in her chest. You must be wondering how she got into this situation, right? Luckily, the story is a short one. Are you ready? I'm not sure you are. Are you really ready?

Okay, well, here goes. For the past few hours, Meika has been scrounging around the floors of movie theaters and filling those big cups to the brim with discarded, crushed kernels of popcorn as soon as the audience vacates, making a bet with herself that it would only take an hour or so until the staff noticed. As for why she made this bet with herself, it's anybody's guess. Unfortunately, it took three hours for minimum wage worker to notice. Even worse, when one of the minimum wage workers did notice, they told Meika to leave. When Meika continued collecting popcorn, the staff member let out a long, beleaguered sigh, and promptly dialed the police on her smartphone. APPARENTLY loitering is a crime. Who knew! Regardless, getting arrested again would look pretty bad on Meika's record, so of course she ran, and right around now she's pounding past a junkyard and getting accosted by a suspicious lady who seems like the type to scam people. Something cool? Yeah, right! Meika knows better. Cool things only come in shades of video games, and everybody knows that shady ladies who fall on their faces off of abandoned cars don't sell cool video games.

Well, Meika knows better, but that doesn't mean she's gotta act on that knowledge. So, skidding to a stop, she turns and swiftly enters the junkyard, dawdling forward like a baby's whose just seen its first neon light. "Well, like, depends on how cool it is, horn sis," Meika intones, tapping one of her uneven horns with a snarky, snaggletoothed smile. "Cuz I don't really fuck with stuff that isn't cool. Being cool is, like, kinda my whole thing, so I'm really trusting you to not let me down here."

She extends one arm full of popcorn bucket. "Want some?"

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