nervous
Construction worker at the intergalactic bypass
Hello everyone! As the title of the post says, I’m currently looking for people to rp Hazbin Hotel with, specifically Radiodust with me playing as Alastor and you playing as Angel Dust.
I'm 21+, and while I’d prefer to write with people in that age range, I won’t say no if you’re over 18 and a really good writer. However, I absolutely won’t rp with a minor, so don’t bother asking. I’ve been roleplaying since I was 16 (I've been around a while), and my typical response averages between 500-1000, depending on the scene. I can dish out a couple of replies per week, sometimes more, but I try to at least give one and if I can’t for whatever reason, I’ll give you a heads up, which is something I’d appreciate you doing too.
I’m currently looking for people who can write 500 words or more per reply; I can understand the appeal of shorter, more fast-paced responses, but there’s something about long blocks of text that make me feel really invested in a story.
Below is a writing sample of mine, just so you see if our styles mesh, and if you feel like they do, go ahead and hit me up in PMs! Please include something about you as a writer in your message, or about your expectations for the rp, or even a writing sample of yours!
I'm 21+, and while I’d prefer to write with people in that age range, I won’t say no if you’re over 18 and a really good writer. However, I absolutely won’t rp with a minor, so don’t bother asking. I’ve been roleplaying since I was 16 (I've been around a while), and my typical response averages between 500-1000, depending on the scene. I can dish out a couple of replies per week, sometimes more, but I try to at least give one and if I can’t for whatever reason, I’ll give you a heads up, which is something I’d appreciate you doing too.
I’m currently looking for people who can write 500 words or more per reply; I can understand the appeal of shorter, more fast-paced responses, but there’s something about long blocks of text that make me feel really invested in a story.
Below is a writing sample of mine, just so you see if our styles mesh, and if you feel like they do, go ahead and hit me up in PMs! Please include something about you as a writer in your message, or about your expectations for the rp, or even a writing sample of yours!
It’s summer, and he’s at the Beach.
It’s a normal enough statement, except he’s in the borderlands and words have outstretched, twisted, and eventually lost their meaning. While it’s summer as of now, it shouldn’t be. It was already summer when he was a player, so it should be late fall or early winter, however, after becoming a citizen, everything reset back to how it was after the day of the fireworks. Just another summer day, albeit a misleading one, given how sunny and bright everything had been moments before a meteorite landed and razed Tokyo to the ground.
The Beach wasn’t a beach either. A hotel (the Seaside Paradise, a really ironic name given the nature of things that happened inside it) turned into a safe haven for players, a community in which people helped each other make it through the games, or at least, pass the time happily before dying in one. It had once been the venue for the Jack of Hearts, and upon Soma’s arrival at the Beach it had been hard to reconcile this new image of the Seaside Paradise. Speakers blasting music at all times, people dressed in all sorts of brightly coloured swimwear, neon spotlights crashing against the shimmering blue of the pool… it was as though it was a different place entirely.
So, to sum it all up, everything is different, because there’s no trace of the destroyed buildings, the graveyards people built, the sorrow and desperation that impregnated every corner of Tokyo when the games were coming to an end. But everything is the same too, because they’re living in a summer that doesn’t end and days that have no meaning beyond a quantitative sense―it doesn’t matter that today is Tuesday, it matters that it’s five days until my next game―and the air is as crisp and fresh as it was back when Soma was alive and Tuesday the 12th of June was the day he had to go to court.
Maybe, if he had to keep up this rhythm for years, it’d be enough to make him go crazy. As it was, though, he was fully aware he didn’t have years left to live, so he stopped keeping track of his surroundings. Life became simpler when he realised he only had to pay attention to two things: coming up with games, and helping patients. That was it. The rest was irrelevant.
But suddenly, during a day that had no right to be as normal as it was―if his life was going to turn upside down, he’d at least like a warning in the shape of heavy rain or ominous-looking clouds―he saw her.
Laying down at one of the Beach’s deckchairs, her brunette curls spilled over her shoulders as her brown eyes swivelled around to focus on whatever had caught her attention. Waves of memories crashed in his mind; evenings of conversation amongst books, nights spent sharing coffee under the dim light of the library, his apartment, her apartment, all of it washing away the past few months of horror he’d endured, momentarily transporting him into a simpler, happier time.
Yalina, he thought, before realising his mouth was stuck in the same position as before and he hadn’t spoken the word out loud.
“Yalina,” he tried again, in a croaking voice. To make up for the uselessness of his mouth, he lifted an arm and waved at her, hoping she’d see him.
It’s a normal enough statement, except he’s in the borderlands and words have outstretched, twisted, and eventually lost their meaning. While it’s summer as of now, it shouldn’t be. It was already summer when he was a player, so it should be late fall or early winter, however, after becoming a citizen, everything reset back to how it was after the day of the fireworks. Just another summer day, albeit a misleading one, given how sunny and bright everything had been moments before a meteorite landed and razed Tokyo to the ground.
The Beach wasn’t a beach either. A hotel (the Seaside Paradise, a really ironic name given the nature of things that happened inside it) turned into a safe haven for players, a community in which people helped each other make it through the games, or at least, pass the time happily before dying in one. It had once been the venue for the Jack of Hearts, and upon Soma’s arrival at the Beach it had been hard to reconcile this new image of the Seaside Paradise. Speakers blasting music at all times, people dressed in all sorts of brightly coloured swimwear, neon spotlights crashing against the shimmering blue of the pool… it was as though it was a different place entirely.
So, to sum it all up, everything is different, because there’s no trace of the destroyed buildings, the graveyards people built, the sorrow and desperation that impregnated every corner of Tokyo when the games were coming to an end. But everything is the same too, because they’re living in a summer that doesn’t end and days that have no meaning beyond a quantitative sense―it doesn’t matter that today is Tuesday, it matters that it’s five days until my next game―and the air is as crisp and fresh as it was back when Soma was alive and Tuesday the 12th of June was the day he had to go to court.
Maybe, if he had to keep up this rhythm for years, it’d be enough to make him go crazy. As it was, though, he was fully aware he didn’t have years left to live, so he stopped keeping track of his surroundings. Life became simpler when he realised he only had to pay attention to two things: coming up with games, and helping patients. That was it. The rest was irrelevant.
But suddenly, during a day that had no right to be as normal as it was―if his life was going to turn upside down, he’d at least like a warning in the shape of heavy rain or ominous-looking clouds―he saw her.
Laying down at one of the Beach’s deckchairs, her brunette curls spilled over her shoulders as her brown eyes swivelled around to focus on whatever had caught her attention. Waves of memories crashed in his mind; evenings of conversation amongst books, nights spent sharing coffee under the dim light of the library, his apartment, her apartment, all of it washing away the past few months of horror he’d endured, momentarily transporting him into a simpler, happier time.
Yalina, he thought, before realising his mouth was stuck in the same position as before and he hadn’t spoken the word out loud.
“Yalina,” he tried again, in a croaking voice. To make up for the uselessness of his mouth, he lifted an arm and waved at her, hoping she’d see him.
