Avatar of Darcs
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  • Old Guild Username: Darcs
  • Joined: 11 yrs ago
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    1. Darcs 11 yrs ago
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7 yrs ago
WHO DAT BOY, 911
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8 yrs ago
Stop and frisk me, daddy. Unf.
2 likes
9 yrs ago
Organize a strike in your school or workplace on the grounds that it does not satisfy your need for indolence & spiritual beauty.
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Most Recent Posts

Mostly stones, that she finds and/or buys herself. <.<

Yes, she's personally invested in invading poor countries for their oil...FFS...Even trolls wouldn't say something that stupid.


You didn't answer my question. She pays taxes, right? Does this not mean, that in some small way, she in complicit in supporting the regimes of country's that are personally invested in invading poor countries for their oil? I think, being in a country that isn't being violently mined for oil might have something to do with the fact that she can make jewelry, but what do I know.

You didn't ask for that. But again...how did Bill Gates creating the internet. Ya know the thing you use, hurt anyone and make people poor, I'm waiting...

You're right. Microsoft's business practices are all squeaky clean! Chalk one up to capitalism! (Also, DARPA made the internet lmao-- he helped to make an OS)

You didn't even spell the word right...:I

??? Okay? Cool? Sorry???? What does this have to do with my argument?

Also more examples, youtubers, twitch casters,[...]

Do you really want to discuss ad revenue? Patreon is cool though, I do like Patreon-- though it's a notable shift from how the system would like people to earn livings so

self publishing books, entire sites for personal stores.

Again-- bigger picture, most of these things aren't even businesses, first off-- but more avenues for expressing creativity or some type of art, that people have to monetize, because of they don't, they'd literally starve to death. Let's take this away from a focus on the American poor, or even the global poor.

The intrinsic ties between sates-- some corrupt and democratic, some corrupt and "communist" some somewhere in between-- and the prevailing global economic beast we call "capitalism." I think it's clear there are many people that suffer because of it-- I find it's more prudent to focus on the fact that if we were to look at this as some "pyramid" where the things that get fucked over most end up on the bottom: and it's the planet. By having so many countries that encourage infinite growth of wealth and resources, the thing that gets fucked over most ALWAYS is the environment. And in fucking over the environment, we fuck over ourselves.

Does that mean EVERY business owner is LITERALLY hurting someone who works for them? No. But, by funneling money to the top, by continuing to allow the system to continue in it's current form, we are all complicit the crimes of the 1%, of states fighting over material resources at the behest of lobbyists. We're all fucking over the planet, and the animals (read: us) that rely on it's resources to live.

And many more, people earning money in all sorts of ways and not doing shit to anybody in the process, you very, very uninformed person...

:/ :/ :I :/ >.>
Krupp

Ammunition

Good one.

That's plain wrong, I'm afraid.

No, it's plain right, I'm afraid.

That's interesting, people in Japan, Canada, Norway, etc. have the highest HDI and they too are very capitalist yet I don't seem to recall them ever oppressing the proletariat. Furthermore, countries that drifted to a capitalist system saw a drastic shift to a higher HDI. Even my little shithole of Belarus became significantly better before my eyes as we drifted away from communism/socialism. And yet, I do not recall us ever exploiting the poor (admittedly that's the whole of our country) who merely put in an honest day's work and that's all to make their country better.

Right, I forgot there's no McDonalds in Canada.

How about all single gaming/music/crafting projects made by one person? Who sells their stuff, makes profit and hurts nobody in the process? There's a few more than one. -.- Or just self-employed people in general?

That's fair-- the Binding of Isaac didn't hurt a fly. However, I'd argue the commodification of art within a capitalist system is a crime perpetuated by the bougies against the proletariat.

My sister. She makes jewelry by herself. Owns her own company/website. Exploits no one and makes a profit...pray tell, how does that effect anyone else? I'd love to hear it. <.<

Where does your sister get the material to make her jewelry from? Which country does she live in? Has she ever paid taxes to a regime that has invaded a poorer country's soil for say... oil?

I could literally pick apart that argument forever but I'd be wasting my time...

Lmao no you couldn't, if you could you would have mentioned AN instance of ethical capitlaism among mega-corps.
People becoming rich, doesn't hurt the poor. They do not correlate. It is not reasonable at all. If having "uber" rich people was only/solely due to negatively effecting the rest of society, our poor would not be doing better than the average global middle class. :/

Literally show me one person who created wealth, from a business, without exploiting the excess value of the labor of others. Harming the poor is how every economic system has worked since we invented currency-- even before then tbh.

Our poor do better than the average global middle class, because, like I've said, our state in inherently tied to our businesses, and the only poor we leech from more than our own is the poor in other countries. Every 'Western or 1st world or whatever' nation does it.

Chinese labor camps is how people become, as @Andreyich mentioned, 'Steve Jobs level rich'

@MyCatGinger That actually bothered me too lmao.
My point is the American Dream is totally achievable.


"These two people have achieved the dream so that means anyone and everyone can."

Lola


"Guh..." Stepped out of a shadow, into her room once more. Local shadow stepping was near instantaneous-- and she was quite thankful for it-- one could only take so much flacid insecurities of First Years before you had to come up for air. Her room was like her own little sanctuary-- it already felt warded against the world-- even with just her brief spell cast this morning. She could just... block out the world, and enjoy her coffee.

She took a sip of the coffee in her hands, a souveneir from her trip to the cafeteria-- and it was all she could take before she let the cup drop, sinking into the shadow sea as it hit the floor. "Coffee hasn't gotten any better either." She shuddered, "You ask for black, they give you flavorless espresso..."

Voodoo gave a sad whir, within his golden tangle home.

"It's cool bro-- I planned for this, actually." Lola snapped again, clearing space on her desk, the shadow above become like black water, and from the riptide, an object began to drip out, slowly, as if falling from stygian molasses.

Reno, Nevada. 8am. An hour or two ago.


A woman with brilliant golden blonde hair, styled as if she never left the 80's, stands in her apartment. She's in her 40's, and enjoying a cigarette, and a cup of joe.

Suddenly, as if by dark magic, her coffee maker disappears, pot and all. As if drowning in it's own shadow.

The woman blinks. "God DAMNIT, Dolores!!!"

"Love you too, Ma!" The void becomes solid shadow once again, as the coffee machine lands flatly on the desk. "Coolio..." Lola whispers... "Now I just gotta..."

Voodoo whirs.

"Yeah."

Whirring continues.

"Yeah, no I know." Lola, coffee machine in tow, makes her way to the door, and stops-- she smells the syrupy wafting of pancakes and can taste a sunny & annoying disposition in the air. She waits a moment, considering her options.

Voodoo clicks, tilting his head.

Lola tsks, her hair shifting to cover her scar once more, "I'm not scared you little shit, I just don't really want to deal with like..."

Click, click.

"No man, people are fine-- it's preppy people I don't want to deal with."

Whir, chirp, whir, whir. Voodoo hopped out of her hair and looked at her.

"Fair point, shitbird." Lola sighed, opening the door to her room. Exposing, even so briefly, her sanctuary to the outside world, and more immediately, her roommates. Noting their eyes on her-- a pretty brown girl with a necklace that would make Flavor Flav blush, and a dude she recognized from last year as 'Om.' She preempted any greetings with, "Don't." She raises a hand at the pair, "Can't deal with character interaction yet. Haven't had my coffee." Slinking past them both, she began to set up her coffee maker in the kitchen.

Interactions: @Saarebas
@Noxx
In CLOSED. 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
@HushedWhispers --- Adah's done. I'm working on Mariko rn.

Lola


Reno, Nevada. 4am.

Tap.

Another tap, beak against flesh. Piercing darkness, but not illuminating it.

Pecks, perhaps kisses? Twinned with each other to bring a new sensation to the void?

Another one. Ouch. What the fuck?
...

Right. No, the woman on the bed knew what this was. Damnit.


"Damnit..." Lola whispered, stirred from a dreamless snooze. Her vision, went from black to an almost brilliant, shining gold in a flash. With a sigh, she brushed her blonde locks away, allowing herself, for a moment, to adjust to the neutral darkness of her room. She lay on a bed, that was less a bed, and more an ovular collection of pillows and sheets, and took in her surroundings. She knew what the pecking meant. Waking Lola was a lot like prodding a hibernating bear-- that was way prettier and better than a bear in every way. With shadow magik. Voodoo wouldn't disturb her unless it was that time of year again-- she knew it was coming-- still, she didn't want to get up.

Another peck to the skull.

"Alright! Damnit..." Lola sat up in the nest of a bed, her golden hair, falling naturally over her scar, covering her left eye. The jade gem in her right began to glow in the purple haze that was her room to compensate. Her abode was a mess, nothing but band posters and black clothes strewn about. The mismatched curtains, protection from the western sun in her casino hell-studio, gave the room a feeling of being a rainbow in the dark. Lola was a Ronnie James Dio fan, so it worked. "Where are you anyway? You little bastard..." She asked the smokey air, with a grunt as she rolled herself onto the floor.

She felt a shift in her hair. She deftly flicked the bird, nesting somewhere in the blonde tangle, before it could give her another warning.

"Yeah, yeah, I know, Dad." She yawned, the oversized red shirt she was wearing reading 'Kush Cheney 200420' shifted slightly, revealing a shoulder. "It only takes a few hours to step by shadow, I'll get there before last bell to the Hogwarts gates close."

The bird whirred, clicked and chirped, quizzically.

"Yeah, dude-- even with all my stuff--" By now she was scouring the room, throwing articles of clothing into the shadows formed in corners, they dissipated, as if melting in a sea of oil. "Jesus, do we have to go over this every year?" Already, the room was looking cleaner-- beneath piles of clothes, clean and semi-clean, was actually an almost respectable room, if one ignored the static filled TV, the unmade bed, and the bottles, filled with ashy roaches. "I'm on time sometimes, man."

Voodoo whirred and beeped, unsure.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, fuck-off Voodoo." Lola yawned at the sight or her semi-clean room. Nearly everything she'd need to not go insane at uni, all thrown in an eldritch void of darkness. The bird creature, hopped onto her shoulder, allowing her a good look at it. He was... an odd creature... that was for certain. Perhaps that was why they got on so well? The experiments that took away his ability to speak meant not many had wanted him as a familiar-- Lola never got that, it just meant she didn't need to deal with another voice in her head. He looked up at her from his perch. "We good to go?"

He blinked, looking her up and down.

"No, dummy. I'll change on the way there."

A soft whirring.

"Oh-- no you're right." Lola slinked across her room, leaning out of the doorway. "Ma!" She sucked in the air through her teeth, "MA! Wake up!"

There was a long pause, and then a thump from another room-- the voice of an old New Yorker responded, groggily, "You what!?"

"I'm going to Hogwarts, Ma!"

"What? Can you get me some smokes?"

"No Ma, Hogwarts? You know-- school? I'm going-- I'll be back in a little while."

Another pause. "You got your little birdie?"

"No Ma, I ate him for dinner. I gotta go."

"Keep that bird safe Dolores! I like him..."

"Your concern is well-placed as always, Ma. I gotta go." Going back into the room, Lola stepped into the shadow of the door, against the wall, feeling a tingle all across her being as she was enveloped by the darkness that made up her being. She could hear shouts of 'Bring me back some Malboros' and even fainter 'I love you, Lola!' in the distance, as she allowed herself to be stripped of being, and become one with the shadow of her destination.
A few hours later...

And then, just like that-- there she was.

Black T-shirt with some rapper etched on it. Maybe Lil Wayne? Black jeans. Black heart. Black parasol. All materialized from the shadow in an instant-- as if black electricity had struck behind a dumpster. Lola inhaled deeply as she approached the campus-- the insecurities of those around her making the air taste like the sweetest ambrosia she'd had in a while. Nothing beats the first day jitters. Her father-- some bigwig in the woods-- paid for her to go here. Among others that were more like her-- Vampires and wolves-- other creatures of the night. His thinking was that it would help her operate more efficiently. Incidentally, Lola had always despised that man, as far as she was concerned the only thing they had in common was their power. She'd thought Silverspell was a lame idea at first... but then she got here... Lola unshrouded her scar and felt the tensions of those unsure of themselves rise around her. Her chest welled with the Garmonbozia. She sighed. Letting her hair fall back into place.

Eventually, after ogling and being ogled, by all manner of freak and geek alike, she made her way to her room-- an apartment comparable to her old one. She put away her umbrella as she stepped into her room, darkening the blinds-- she found a perfect spot of shadow, and snapped her fingers-- black lightening sparking across her fingertips and the areas of shadow in the room. For a moment, the space flicked black, the dimensions seemed to curve and twist and bend-- but only for a moment-- before snapping back into place. With all her posters, sheets, pillows and clothes-- strewn about. As they were in her home. She sighed.

"No rest for the wicked..."

The bird chirped out a laugh.

Lola flinched, "Shut up, Moonchild. Not every quipp can be a winner. Besides..." Another heaving sigh. "Spacial manipulation always takes a lot out of me. Let's go meet some people."
@Vilageidiotx Satan is my husbando.

@Andreyich@mdk How are you both just going to ignore neo-colonialism though.

Citation needed for otherwise. Because that was a non-point. :/

Don't be an ass.

http://lmgtfy.com/?q=lobbying
I wanted to do the thoughts thing-- but I also figured it'd be fun to point out how all your fear tastes to tiny fear girl.

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