Bop Its Neo
Arber
HI!
I'm looking for a Burr that can do a Failed Blind Date AU with me.
I can be lit, semi-lit, advanced, really anything; though I prefer going full detail and in-depth with what I write. More often than not, I bounce off of my partner's writing style. The one thing I'll refuse to do is one-liners, and I'd prefer if my partners don't do one-liners, either.
TW: Swearing
[]Prompt - "your friend set you up on a blind date and i happened to be eating alone so you thought you were meeting me and you were cute so i went along with it but you just got a text from said friend that they’re sorry your date stood you up and now i have some explaining to do”
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Alexander didn't know what the hell was wrong with him.
Surely, there had to be something if he was unable to find so much as a date. Maybe he was just unattractive. Too eager to express thoughts, maybe too loud. Was it his voice? That would be less than ideal, seeing as though talking seemed to always be one of his passions. Was that it Was he too passionate? Or was it something he was oblivious to? Dear god, was it because he was oblivious?
He wasn't blind. He had mirrors, he knew what he looked like. He knew what he sounded like, as well, from multiple clips of him speaking for hours on end being played for him in a sort of teasing manner, as if whoever playing it (usually Jefferson) thought that Alexander didn't know how much he talked. Well, he did. He didn't think his voice was terrible. It wasn't awfully high pitched, but it wasn't terribly low, either. Maybe when frustrated, it would gather a sort of keen whine, but there was no way he would be frustrated, common enough, in a relationship, for somebody to not want to be with him.
As for his appearance, he didn't think he was flat out ugly. A little thin, sure, and seemingly exhausted from the workspace he gathered himself into, but not awful. It wasn't like he looked like a zombie. He still looked alive. And hell, if he weren't himself, he would swear that he would swoon from his own smile.
Maybe that's it. Maybe he's too cocky.
But, still, that didn't explain why dates are so hard for him. Not hard to find, he'd assure you. He's been on many. He's been set up, approached by strangers, written out. He can find the people, just not the right people.
He's been on nine dates this month, and it had just started.
The first one was with a guy named Francis, that one of his friends had set him up with. It started off well enough; he was nice, smart, good-looking, and they shared some common interests. It could have maybe worked out, but Alexander decided not to call him back after deciding he had mentioned his ex ‘Mildred’ one too many times and he clearly still wasn’t over him and actually ready to date. Besides, good looks couldn't supply everything when he hardly provided Alexander with a challenge of intellect.
A lot of his dates went that way. They were either not over their ex, weren't compatible with Alex, or weren't compatible.. At all. With anybody. And, of course, Alexander assumed he was being too harsh on them. He knew he was difficult to get along with, sure. But he had friends, and if he could make friends, he could get a boyfriend, right? I mean, a boyfriend is just a more affectionate friend, in some ways.
Maybe Alexander was being too harsh on himself. Maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was just the fact that everybody he seemed to get with thus far had no sort of spark of life in their eyes, at all. Then again, if that was the issue, then why would the friends who put him on these blind dates pair him up with people he would end up rather dying than speaking to? He was sure his group knew him well enough,they met drunk, there was no way that Alexander didn't give them some sort of personal detail on the first day sometime or another, so why would they pair him with these sort of people?
Honestly, maybe he was impatient, and maybe that was the issue, but he was starting to lose hope. He swore he would give up on dating altogether, or at least blind dates set up by his friends, even as he stared at himself in the mirror, slipping on a sweatshirt that was far too big on him. God, what was he doing? Everything about this seemed like the wrong idea, and he just knew it would end awfully. First off, like most others, it was a blind date. Set up by a friend. Angelica, no less, who shares the almost exact same amount of brilliance and energy as he did, but still. Second of all, it was at a bar. No first dates at a bar go well. Not even if it was a rather well off one, with soft lights instead of bright fluorescents, and an outside seating where you can listen to the muffled music from inside while taking a seat in the cool, early night air.
He hesitated on leaving his house, still staring at himself in the mirror. He was starting to regret the outfit before he even had time to do so. Maybe yellow really wasn't his colour. Sure, he was told to take risks by a certain freckled friend, but he knew he looked good in green, so why didn't he just dress in green? He doubted that first dates, whether they were going to go farther than the one night or not, were the time to change up your style.
Maybe the shorts weren't the best option, either. It wasn't like he hated his legs, but he wasn't in love with them either, and there was always a possibility of whoever he was meeting finding them too chubby for their taste. Maybe he should settle on some black ones, instead of the jean blue, so they would attract less attention. Is that what the colour black does? God, he didn't know.
Maybe whoever he was seeing didn't like guys in traditionally feminine outfits. That was always a possibility. He should have just stuck to his masculinity, even though it was hardly existent in the first place. He could have played pretend, though, right? Maybe his date didn't like overly masculine men. Maybe they would prefer somewhere in the middle. God, he didn't know. And it was impossible to know. All he knew was that, maybe, he wasn't the man of his date's dreams. That was always a possibility.
You know what? Fuck it. Give him two minutes, and he'd be five minutes late. He tucked his sweater into his shorts, grabbing a white bag and forcing his wallet, pen and paper into it, before leaving the house, quickly calling an uber since, hell, he didn't know how this night would go, and if he would be in the best place to drive his own car home in the end.
When he got to the bar, he scanned the outside, where Angelica had mentioned he would be seated. The area was full of couples, or groups of people, two people at a seating being the minimum. Despite that, it was rather quiet, a nice change from the busied and loud other attractions he would often be taken out to. Of course, the volume level wasn't the issue. It was the fact that he couldn't, for the life of him, spot a person sitting alone. Which means one of three things. Either one, this was some cruel joke settled on by the Schyulers to get back at him for breaking up with Eliza, two, he had been stood up by whoever he was coming to meet, or three, it was a sort of group date, despite how much he would constantly swear that he despised those.
God, he may be a bit of a slut, but he's not poly.Not that there was anything wrong with that, he would swear, when being given judging stares. It simply wasn't his cup of coffee.
Well, it turned out to be option number four. His patience was thin as it's always been, and he simply didn't see the man seated by a table next to the railing determining where the end of the patio seating was. And even where Alexander stood now, studying the man from his stumble of getting out of his Uber, he was very much Alexander's type. He didn't know why, but it was something about them. As eloquent with words as he is, he couldn't place it. Well, he processed it, making his way to the table, gorgeous was his type. And this man was gorgeous. Simple as that.
When he finally got to the table, the man's appearance was more obvious, even with the lights being dimmed from just how far away he was from them. His skin was a lovely, dark shade, A sepia shade that glowed golden with the soft lights coming from Alexander's left. His eyes were the same shade but darker, more of a passive umber than anything else, with a sort of silenced brilliance that Alexander hadn't remembered ever seeing in a man. He wasn't wearing a smile, more of a content look than anything else, but it looked good on him anyway, a slightly reddish hue broadcasted on his face from what Alexander assumed was from the slight breeze coming through. He was.. Calm. And collected. If Alexander were to be able to get a read of his personality then and there, he would say that he wasn't too dead set on talking, but it.. Worked with him. It was difficult to explain. This man, in himself, was difficult to explain Then again, to be able to explain him, Alexander would probably need to speak to him, first.
So, that's what he did. Introductions have never been the most difficult part of his life, him having always been rather good at them on the contrary. He was often told, by friends and lovers alike, just how capable his smile and eyes were.If he wanted to, he could turn that into another rant on why, exactly, he didn't understand why dates tended to flop so horribly, but he couldn't be bothered, far too interested in the man in front of him and getting to know his name, at least. So, with the same alluring smile he was taught that makes men and women alike swoon, and the same bright eyes that a freckled friend once described as moons in their own, Alexander finally spoke, him resisting the urge to dash his hand out in invitation of a shake. He assumed it wasn't what you were supposed to do. This was a first date, not a business meeting.
"Hey, I’m Alexander Hamilton. Nice to meet you."
I'm looking for a Burr that can do a Failed Blind Date AU with me.
I can be lit, semi-lit, advanced, really anything; though I prefer going full detail and in-depth with what I write. More often than not, I bounce off of my partner's writing style. The one thing I'll refuse to do is one-liners, and I'd prefer if my partners don't do one-liners, either.
TW: Swearing
[]Prompt - "your friend set you up on a blind date and i happened to be eating alone so you thought you were meeting me and you were cute so i went along with it but you just got a text from said friend that they’re sorry your date stood you up and now i have some explaining to do”
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alexander didn't know what the hell was wrong with him.
Surely, there had to be something if he was unable to find so much as a date. Maybe he was just unattractive. Too eager to express thoughts, maybe too loud. Was it his voice? That would be less than ideal, seeing as though talking seemed to always be one of his passions. Was that it Was he too passionate? Or was it something he was oblivious to? Dear god, was it because he was oblivious?
He wasn't blind. He had mirrors, he knew what he looked like. He knew what he sounded like, as well, from multiple clips of him speaking for hours on end being played for him in a sort of teasing manner, as if whoever playing it (usually Jefferson) thought that Alexander didn't know how much he talked. Well, he did. He didn't think his voice was terrible. It wasn't awfully high pitched, but it wasn't terribly low, either. Maybe when frustrated, it would gather a sort of keen whine, but there was no way he would be frustrated, common enough, in a relationship, for somebody to not want to be with him.
As for his appearance, he didn't think he was flat out ugly. A little thin, sure, and seemingly exhausted from the workspace he gathered himself into, but not awful. It wasn't like he looked like a zombie. He still looked alive. And hell, if he weren't himself, he would swear that he would swoon from his own smile.
Maybe that's it. Maybe he's too cocky.
But, still, that didn't explain why dates are so hard for him. Not hard to find, he'd assure you. He's been on many. He's been set up, approached by strangers, written out. He can find the people, just not the right people.
He's been on nine dates this month, and it had just started.
The first one was with a guy named Francis, that one of his friends had set him up with. It started off well enough; he was nice, smart, good-looking, and they shared some common interests. It could have maybe worked out, but Alexander decided not to call him back after deciding he had mentioned his ex ‘Mildred’ one too many times and he clearly still wasn’t over him and actually ready to date. Besides, good looks couldn't supply everything when he hardly provided Alexander with a challenge of intellect.
A lot of his dates went that way. They were either not over their ex, weren't compatible with Alex, or weren't compatible.. At all. With anybody. And, of course, Alexander assumed he was being too harsh on them. He knew he was difficult to get along with, sure. But he had friends, and if he could make friends, he could get a boyfriend, right? I mean, a boyfriend is just a more affectionate friend, in some ways.
Maybe Alexander was being too harsh on himself. Maybe it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was just the fact that everybody he seemed to get with thus far had no sort of spark of life in their eyes, at all. Then again, if that was the issue, then why would the friends who put him on these blind dates pair him up with people he would end up rather dying than speaking to? He was sure his group knew him well enough,
Honestly, maybe he was impatient, and maybe that was the issue, but he was starting to lose hope. He swore he would give up on dating altogether, or at least blind dates set up by his friends, even as he stared at himself in the mirror, slipping on a sweatshirt that was far too big on him. God, what was he doing? Everything about this seemed like the wrong idea, and he just knew it would end awfully. First off, like most others, it was a blind date. Set up by a friend. Angelica, no less, who shares the almost exact same amount of brilliance and energy as he did, but still. Second of all, it was at a bar. No first dates at a bar go well. Not even if it was a rather well off one, with soft lights instead of bright fluorescents, and an outside seating where you can listen to the muffled music from inside while taking a seat in the cool, early night air.
He hesitated on leaving his house, still staring at himself in the mirror. He was starting to regret the outfit before he even had time to do so. Maybe yellow really wasn't his colour. Sure, he was told to take risks by a certain freckled friend, but he knew he looked good in green, so why didn't he just dress in green? He doubted that first dates, whether they were going to go farther than the one night or not, were the time to change up your style.
Maybe the shorts weren't the best option, either. It wasn't like he hated his legs, but he wasn't in love with them either, and there was always a possibility of whoever he was meeting finding them too chubby for their taste. Maybe he should settle on some black ones, instead of the jean blue, so they would attract less attention. Is that what the colour black does? God, he didn't know.
Maybe whoever he was seeing didn't like guys in traditionally feminine outfits. That was always a possibility. He should have just stuck to his masculinity, even though it was hardly existent in the first place. He could have played pretend, though, right? Maybe his date didn't like overly masculine men. Maybe they would prefer somewhere in the middle. God, he didn't know. And it was impossible to know. All he knew was that, maybe, he wasn't the man of his date's dreams. That was always a possibility.
You know what? Fuck it. Give him two minutes, and he'd be five minutes late. He tucked his sweater into his shorts, grabbing a white bag and forcing his wallet, pen and paper into it, before leaving the house, quickly calling an uber since, hell, he didn't know how this night would go, and if he would be in the best place to drive his own car home in the end.
When he got to the bar, he scanned the outside, where Angelica had mentioned he would be seated. The area was full of couples, or groups of people, two people at a seating being the minimum. Despite that, it was rather quiet, a nice change from the busied and loud other attractions he would often be taken out to. Of course, the volume level wasn't the issue. It was the fact that he couldn't, for the life of him, spot a person sitting alone. Which means one of three things. Either one, this was some cruel joke settled on by the Schyulers to get back at him for breaking up with Eliza, two, he had been stood up by whoever he was coming to meet, or three, it was a sort of group date, despite how much he would constantly swear that he despised those.
God, he may be a bit of a slut, but he's not poly.
Well, it turned out to be option number four. His patience was thin as it's always been, and he simply didn't see the man seated by a table next to the railing determining where the end of the patio seating was. And even where Alexander stood now, studying the man from his stumble of getting out of his Uber, he was very much Alexander's type. He didn't know why, but it was something about them. As eloquent with words as he is, he couldn't place it. Well, he processed it, making his way to the table, gorgeous was his type. And this man was gorgeous. Simple as that.
When he finally got to the table, the man's appearance was more obvious, even with the lights being dimmed from just how far away he was from them. His skin was a lovely, dark shade, A sepia shade that glowed golden with the soft lights coming from Alexander's left. His eyes were the same shade but darker, more of a passive umber than anything else, with a sort of silenced brilliance that Alexander hadn't remembered ever seeing in a man. He wasn't wearing a smile, more of a content look than anything else, but it looked good on him anyway, a slightly reddish hue broadcasted on his face from what Alexander assumed was from the slight breeze coming through. He was.. Calm. And collected. If Alexander were to be able to get a read of his personality then and there, he would say that he wasn't too dead set on talking, but it.. Worked with him. It was difficult to explain. This man, in himself, was difficult to explain Then again, to be able to explain him, Alexander would probably need to speak to him, first.
So, that's what he did. Introductions have never been the most difficult part of his life, him having always been rather good at them on the contrary. He was often told, by friends and lovers alike, just how capable his smile and eyes were.
"Hey, I’m Alexander Hamilton. Nice to meet you."
