Rawk

Give Me Your Favorite Lyric(s).

Strangelove
Strange highs and strange lows
Strangelove
That's how my love goes
Strangelove
Will you give it to me?

- Depeche Mode | "Strange Love"

Nice To See You

Welcome to the Guild, @clowso

Current Mood in One Gif

My response to @Briza from the other side.

The Perfect Li[f]e (Rawk & Xandrya)

“There’s two kinds of people in our world. The ‘business leaders’ and the ‘business followers’.” The tall, lean, clean-cut man stood at one end of a black rectangular conference table which was situated in the center of the large room. “Unfortunately, from what I am seeing in the last few years, this club has been following the wrong trends, and chasing that white rabbit down into a hole of failure.” The man speaking motioned toward the projected image on the whiteboard behind him, which showed a comprehensive business plan with a few barcharts and marketing concepts to supplement the information given.

At the other end of the table, seated in high-back leather office chairs were three of Black Rhino’s management team, each seemingly captivated by their charismatic presenter as he glided through infographics and statistics regarding the past and current profit trends for the company, as well as subtle yet very relevant mistakes the nightclub has made in the past years which drove profit margins into the ground. What had once been a hotspot for not only the everyday working class, but for all those higher-ups on Wall Street, was slowly being eaten up by competitors all over New York City, and the Black Rhino felt the hit. Fortunately for them, Ethan Campbell, a friend of the owner and long-time advocate of the New York Nightclub scene was happy to impart his years of experience and wisdom on yet another struggling entertainment spot.

“Look, at the end of the day, folks, it’s not about who can throw the best parties in town.” He concluded after almost a two-hour session, closing down the PowerPoint presentation on his laptop, and clicking the projector off. “It’s about making a name that screams ‘WE THROW THE BEST FUCKIN’ PARTIES ANYWHERE IN MANHATTAN!’ “ His voice bolstered with excitement, momentarily flailing his arms out to drive the point, and then settled back to a normal tone. “It’s about having an identity that leaves an impact your guests will never forget.”

Ethan was a lot of things, to a lot of people, but everyone could agree that he would do what he set out to accomplish, or die trying. Born and raised in the Crown Heights neighborhood of central Brooklyn to a lower-middle class family and attending one of New York’s worst public school. In an attempt to not end up like his alcoholic father, or mother, who shacked up with other boyfriends just to get away from her husband, Ethan decided to get part-time work at restaurants and also attend night classes at community colleges, hoping to one day get the hell out of Brooklyn and perhaps even New York altogether. Well, long story short, he stuck around New York, but thankfully found bartending work at a few stripclubs in Manhattan and could eventually afford to live pretty decently. It wasn’t until his late twenties that he’s finally gone into business for himself, as not only a consultant for many of the clubs he’s worked for, but others across the Five Boroughs. A tough gig, sure. But well worth the effort.

“Thank you for your time, Ethan.” An older lady, one of the management staff, smiled as she shook his hand. “You certainly gave us something to think about, and I-uh” The woman still held firm to Ethan’s hand. “Hope to be seeing more of you.”

“It was my pleasure, Susan.” The man nodded with a pleasing grin, placing his other hand on top of hers. “And without a doubt, I’ll be happy to assist once you guys are ready.”

---

He was glad the day was winding down. Four client meetings, all at different corners of the city, and one of which was about as sketchy as they came. He often wondered why he took certain business on in the first place, realizing that they aren’t going to benefit much from his help, nor is he going to see much in the way of monetary gain. At least he had something to look forward to later in the evening.

Ethan couldn’t help but smile to himself, thinking about the chance run-in with Clarissa. How long had it been since they saw one another? At least a few years. Time flew by like most things do, and with career, traveling, and the rush of life as it was, it seemed there was little time to dive back into anything serious. But damn if it wasn’t good to see her again. It had really been like the memories of old times came flooding back all at once. Some good. Some bad. But mostly awesome. But what the hell was a man like Ethan to do with a girl like Clare? Sure, having a cop as a girlfriend was more of a turn-on than the guy would admit, but it always felt as though things were becoming distant for each of them. As though he was going in one direction, as she was moving in the opposite.

Hmm. C'est la vie.

The Perfect Li[f]e (Rawk & Xandrya)

@Xandrya, IC is up, so feel free to post at your leisure :)

The Perfect Li[f]e (Rawk & Xandrya)

Name:
Ethan Campbell

Age:
35

Occupation:
Officially a Nightclub Consultant within NYC. Unofficially, a “Fixer” for the Shadowland, but believing he is working for an underground organization who pays him well enough not to question the source.

Personality Traits:
Extrovert | Confident | Ambitious | Protective Instinct | Independant

The Perfect Li[f]e (Rawk & Xandrya)

---

Like many places throughout the world, as the sun begins to melt behind the horizon and the last vestiges of light give way to the shroud of darkness, the whole landscape seems to transform. What could be considered to most a colorful and enriching experience during the day, would slowly morph into something so much more. Perhaps not as vibrant to the eye as one would normally perceive, but rather the other senses are opened up to new experiences of which could be found lurking in the shadows.

Within the urban playground of New York City’s Five Boroughs, a place just below the surface of the normal psyche, a “Shadowland” resides, perceived under the light of the moon -from dusk ‘til dawn- and only to those individuals brought into its fold. Normal humans live out their lives on a daily basis, many never knowing about the otherworldly existence. But it has been there long before the settlement of man, and it will no doubt be there at their extinction. The Shadowland is but a mirror image of the realm it resides in, but much more exotic yet void of natural color, where just about anything you can imagine may be procured, and where shapeshifting creatures known as “Changelings” exist, serving or -sometimes- enslaving humans for their own interests.

Residentials, businesses, and a myriad of other establishments are a secret home to these creatures, but one doesn't simply waltz unknowingly into this realm. No. These select humans must be invited by a creature who visits the mortal realm under the guise of humanity, but actually lives in the Shadowland, which then reveals their true form.

For the most part, those humans fortunate -unfortunate?- enough to have delved into the ancient, secretive society of the Underworld and are allowed to return to the mortal plane, are stripped of any recollection of where they had been. A void in their memory, which other memories quickly collapse onto, covering any trace of memory loss and maintaining the integrity of the Changelings realm. However, there are those who carry with them a piece of the Shadowland. A fragmental memory you could even call it, and something that, while isn’t wholly apparent to the host, conjures up flashes of the otherworld whether in dreams, or brief waking glimpses. Generally, these mortals are hunted down by a Shadowland “memory plucker”, pulling just enough from the individual to satisfy their mission, because anything more may cause the target to fall into insanity or worse, death.

If all is successful, then there is nothing more to do, however, if the secrecy of the Shadowland is compromised in any way, or the rare death of a mortal caused by removing memories does occur, it is up to an appointed “Fixer” to clear up any loose ends. Fixers were generally those humans who, for one reason or another, proved their loyalty to those within the Shadowland, and could be trusted to assist in keeping its anonymity within a certain region of the mortal plane. The title of “Fixer” can be given to any human, in any walk of life or profession, but is generally bestowed upon those who have contacts and influence within governmental and local agencies to call upon for assistance. Each Fixer’s own memories and knowledge of the Shadowlands existence are slim to none, believing rather that they work for an underground organization who pays them well enough to keep their affairs in line.

No questions asked.

What Are You Listening To?

I've been on a SynthWave kick recently, and came across this jewel of an album. Good stuff.

Give Me Your Favorite Quote(s).

"The truth is like a lion; you don't have to defend it. Let it loose and it will defend itself."

- Augustine of Hippo