WARNING:
This roleplay will include topics that may be sensitive to some individuals. It is meant to diverge and disorient, and be as colorful and dynamic as you make it. But if you're still up for a roller coaster of chaos and thrills and still want to dance, then baby lets dance 
LINKS:
sign-ups: you're here! 
ooc-chat: clicky!
rp-thread: clickeroni!
“Hey you."
"Yeah, hunny. I’m talkin’ to you. Lil dove like you probably scared out of your damn mind- No, don’t run away! Where you running to, huh?! You don’t know the first fuckin’ thing about where you even are, do you?… Yeah… Yeah, that’s what I thought. Come on now, keep close and listen up- my time ain’t cheap...”
Hot pinks and neon greens flash down the side street like a stream of fluorescent vomit. You feel a hand grab yours, and suddenly you’re being dragged along by a girl in the starry-yellow boots. Motels and casinos steal the skyline around you, and music blasts with nuclear energy from all directions. You pass dozens of faces- each more bizarre than the last: Neon paint dripping from the eyes and mouth, diamonds piercings snaking another’s delicate features, cat-like fingernails, latex suits, and some hardly wearing anything at all. People in love, people in fights, people in windows, and people intoxicated… and people that aren’t… people…
“…You got all that Angel-face?”
The girl with the starry boots stops and turns to you. She speaks loud and forward, and stands with the bold air of an 80’s fitness instructor. You look up and only then notice that you stand outside a rather risqué-looking establishment. It looks busy. The girl hands you a metallic card.
“The name’s Liv. But once you walk in there, you’ll know me by Mademme. Stop by, and that card will get you a good time.” She strides up the steps, her boots sending off a flickering clack with each step. Her body turns, and for a split second you feel her eyes wash down in coquettish finesse. “Or sell it down on Flatline for a pretty penny… and stop by anyway…” The doors glide open, and you’re immediately hit with a wave of heat, fog, and thumping pop music. She gives you a wave, and before entering the fray, you see her slip on a mask cloaked in white rhinestones. And she’s gone. And you’re left with the most formal ‘welcome’ to the rest of your life you could ever hope to receive.
Welcome to The Slip.
This isn't Hell, but it sure ain't Heaven either
"Hate to break it to you, Baby, but you're dead."
"Yeah, yeah, don't believe me all you want, but you'll be bawling later. Cry if you need to. But dead in the real world is alive in this one, and vice versa. Yeah. You heard what I said. You can always go home. You can go back to your little gingerbread life with your Prius and your 9 to 5 and your shih tzu that does handstands. Live in your dull little fishbowl world where everything makes sense. But I promise you once shit hits the fan, and you get plowed over by a truck or shot up in an alley, you'll find yourself right back here. But hey- there could be worse things."
"You'll see some people around that aren't exactly human. They call themselves Demoloths, and they can seem human one moment, but take the form of something entirely different the next. They feed off of humanity, but can offer you something grand in return if you make a Pact with one. Think of them as genies. But instead of 3 wishes in this world, you get infinite, and instead of them being free, you trade your soul. Not a bad bargain, eh?"
"I'll warn you though- once you make a Pact, it can't be broken. You might be thinking you can go back to your world, and leave your Pact behind, but it's deeper than that. They can reach you there. They can drive you to insanity to make you pull the trigger and return to them. A Pact is not to be taken lightly. It's a 9mm you need to swallow every time your Demo's in a tizzy, and a life on the outside knowing this is your fate. But it's a world of paradise in here. Not everyone makes pacts. But I'm sure I'll only see you back here if you do."
A word of advice? Glitter and gold is temporary. Pacts aren't.
