Bop Its Neo
Arber
Hi!
I'm looking for a Laurens to do an Internet Friends 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: Depression, self harm, mentions of therapist and medication, Swearing
[]prompt: Character A and Character B have been online friends for years, however they’ve always been separated by distance. Character A suddenly tells Character B that they’re going to be going to be coming to their town on a trip and they want to meet up. Character B panics because they’ve been keeping a big secret from Character A all these years. Can they hide it? Will their friendship survive the reveal?[]
Note: I'm sorry! I wrote this in another site, and the format messed up, hh-
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Alexander had met a specific John Laurens on Twitter, where his existence was most common, somewhere in his Direct Messages with a mention to his newest article of writing. It was about the modern economy, he remembered, and just how bad it was. He pointed out every flaw and fault in the system, how, given five years, it'll end up breaking down and sending America into discord. It touched on the newest presidency and made a reference to the past government systems, and honestly, reading the post now, Alexander couldn't understand it for the life of him. It was spiralling out of control, like he wrote it in a frenzy at three in the morning and published it without at least a revision, and honestly, he was surprised it got so many likes or retweets. Then again, most of his posts are like that, in all honesty. They're focused on one subject and end up spiralling into another, his grammar and punctuation perfect at the start until he grew too frantic and hurried to get his words out there that he gave up on perfection, and instead wrote like he was running out of time and didn't even have a second to go back and correct the spelling for 'floccinaucinihilipilification'. Not like anybody would notice, anyway. Nobody really seemed to mind, anyway. His fanbase certainly didn't - especially not when his follower count was rivalling Britney Spears'. He didn't get as many messages as his friends thought he would. Angelica was surprised, especially. - "I would have, at least, expected hate comments." Her expectations were wrong, even to Alexander's surprise.
It was mostly comments, questions. What did he think about this article? What sources would be best suited for information? Or, they would be more specified to what he wrote - What did he think about federal spending? How the majority goes to the military, the least amount going to food and agriculture? What did he think about wages and levels of pay? He never had time to respond to everybody, that would be ludicrous. But after a morning of posting, most of his replies or Direct Messages having simmered down by the end of the day, reading exactly who messaged him what when he was laying in bed at three in the morning helped him fall asleep - something that was painfully difficult for him to do. That was how he had met John Laurens. He was at the top of his list of DMs, which meant he must have had been recent. When Alexander checked what time the man messaged him, he was correct. Thirty minutes ago. The message was stupidly simple, and had almost nothing to do with the contents of his writing, or him, in general: '> U do know that, after 10 lines, nothing you wrote makes sense, right' The message gave him a quiet chuckle. Yes, of course he knew that. But this was the first time anybody else had noticed, or bothered to point it out. Of course, there was a sort of voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should be upset by this, that because it didn't make sense, nobody would like his writings or continue to follow him, but he couldn't be bothered to focus on that thought. This man, who went by the username 'TurtleCrisp', did what no other man, in real life or online, could ever do.
' I tend to think about that a lot, actually.' '> At least youre aware' ' So, do you have a name, or am I going to have to refer to you as 'TurtleCrisp' all the time? Because that's ridiculous.' '> Ill spill as soon as im told what the A for 'A.Ham' is for.' ' Alexander Hamilton.' '> John laurens.' That's how it started. Alexander wasn't sure what compelled him to actually speak to this man - perhaps it was the fact that he was hardly asking to be spoken to -, but getting to know him, he didn't regret it whatsoever. And, really, he was surprised how quickly things escalated. Give them two weeks and they were face timing for hours every day; even when Alexander remains typing furiously and John is nothing but quiet snores on the other line. Two months, and they were sending birthday presents to eachother. (It was like a competition, honestly. On Alexander's twenty-fifth birthday, he received a quill and ink pot that's been on his wishlist for eons, with the note 'here u dork - John' on top, inside the box. Alexander retaliated, and when it was John's birthday, him turning twenty-six - he would joke on how he was older all the time - Alexander sent him a three hundred dollar PetSmart gift card, with the note 'To fuel your stupid obsession with turtles - Alex'.)
(He was being face timed two hours after it said the package had landed. He was greeted with John, who had a turtle in his hair and one on his shoulder. He swore he was having a heart attack.)
They had known each other for, four years online, tomorrow marking the fifth year. Tomorrow, marking the day John flies to New York, and they finally meet in real life, instead of having one in New York and one in South Carolina. Tomorrow, Alexander is completely and utterly fucked, and exposed, when it comes to promises he had made and yet to keep, and secrets that he was supposed to not have anymore. John had figured out during a face-time. Alexander was completely thrown off when receiving a call at three in the morning, when going through an episode and attempting to muffle his sobs so that his neighbours wouldn't hear through the thin walls and file a noise complaint. He jumped when he heard the phone go off, staring at it for a few moments, and blinking. He sniffled, rubbing at his cheeks and eyes with his sleeve until it burnt and felt like he was rubbing his skin off, before answering. His room was dark from him not bothering to turn on any lights, not caring enough, but there was enough light coming through the blinds and coming from the phone for John to notice his red face, puffy eyes, and the fault in his bright smile. It only took him one question for Alexander to break down and admit.
John's been on his tail from that point. Making him promise to eat, shower, pay bills, go to work, seek help. One of the biggest promises he was forced into was a refrain from hurting himself, which Alexander seemed to struggle with the most. He was tipped to write on himself, instead. He didn't have enough ink in his newly bought sharpie to stop the urges. But it didn't matter, because it was too late, and now he was having to dress for summer weather and still seem slightly decent, seeing as though this was their first fucking meeting. He remembered asking what he should wear. "Alex, it doesn't matter. It's not like this is my first time seeing you. Just.. The first in real life." "But I wanna look good for you, daddy~." "Oh my god-" "You like it when I call you that, shut up." "Just wait until I actually fuck you!" He continued swearing it didn't matter. It did. He settled on green. He always looked good in green. He left his hair down. "Honestly, I prefer it down. It's like.. Ribbons. It's beautiful." He wrapped his arms. He got his sign. And, he left.
He went to the airport in an Uber, wanting more time to actually look at the freckled man and speak to him instead of having to focus on the road ahead of him. He wanted to give the man as much attention as he possibly could. He couldn't help but anxiously fidget with his clothing while he waited to get there, pulling at his sleeves so they were less wrinkled, moving his shorts down farther on his legs so he wasn't as exposed. Fidgeting with the ends of his bandaging, before pressing it down to his skin again. It was on both arms, but he couldn't much worry about that when he was about to see John Laurens, and in person. Finally, they got there. And Alexander doubted he could have been more excited for anything in his life. It was strange, the fact that one person in his life and one person only - one thing - could get his interest, nowadays. Could get him to express something other than fatigue, sadness, frustration. And, really, he owed his life to this man. Pushing through crowds of people to get to the front, knowing fully well that he was nowhere near tall enough to stand in the back and hope to be seen, he raised his sign in the air high above his head, bright eyes frantically searching for any freckled man he could find and his lips curled up into a hopeless smile.
I'm looking for a Laurens to do an Internet Friends 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: Depression, self harm, mentions of therapist and medication, Swearing
[]prompt: Character A and Character B have been online friends for years, however they’ve always been separated by distance. Character A suddenly tells Character B that they’re going to be going to be coming to their town on a trip and they want to meet up. Character B panics because they’ve been keeping a big secret from Character A all these years. Can they hide it? Will their friendship survive the reveal?[]
Note: I'm sorry! I wrote this in another site, and the format messed up, hh-
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Alexander had met a specific John Laurens on Twitter, where his existence was most common, somewhere in his Direct Messages with a mention to his newest article of writing. It was about the modern economy, he remembered, and just how bad it was. He pointed out every flaw and fault in the system, how, given five years, it'll end up breaking down and sending America into discord. It touched on the newest presidency and made a reference to the past government systems, and honestly, reading the post now, Alexander couldn't understand it for the life of him. It was spiralling out of control, like he wrote it in a frenzy at three in the morning and published it without at least a revision, and honestly, he was surprised it got so many likes or retweets. Then again, most of his posts are like that, in all honesty. They're focused on one subject and end up spiralling into another, his grammar and punctuation perfect at the start until he grew too frantic and hurried to get his words out there that he gave up on perfection, and instead wrote like he was running out of time and didn't even have a second to go back and correct the spelling for 'floccinaucinihilipilification'. Not like anybody would notice, anyway. Nobody really seemed to mind, anyway. His fanbase certainly didn't - especially not when his follower count was rivalling Britney Spears'. He didn't get as many messages as his friends thought he would. Angelica was surprised, especially. - "I would have, at least, expected hate comments." Her expectations were wrong, even to Alexander's surprise.
It was mostly comments, questions. What did he think about this article? What sources would be best suited for information? Or, they would be more specified to what he wrote - What did he think about federal spending? How the majority goes to the military, the least amount going to food and agriculture? What did he think about wages and levels of pay? He never had time to respond to everybody, that would be ludicrous. But after a morning of posting, most of his replies or Direct Messages having simmered down by the end of the day, reading exactly who messaged him what when he was laying in bed at three in the morning helped him fall asleep - something that was painfully difficult for him to do. That was how he had met John Laurens. He was at the top of his list of DMs, which meant he must have had been recent. When Alexander checked what time the man messaged him, he was correct. Thirty minutes ago. The message was stupidly simple, and had almost nothing to do with the contents of his writing, or him, in general: '> U do know that, after 10 lines, nothing you wrote makes sense, right' The message gave him a quiet chuckle. Yes, of course he knew that. But this was the first time anybody else had noticed, or bothered to point it out. Of course, there was a sort of voice in the back of his mind telling him that he should be upset by this, that because it didn't make sense, nobody would like his writings or continue to follow him, but he couldn't be bothered to focus on that thought. This man, who went by the username 'TurtleCrisp', did what no other man, in real life or online, could ever do.
' I tend to think about that a lot, actually.' '> At least youre aware' ' So, do you have a name, or am I going to have to refer to you as 'TurtleCrisp' all the time? Because that's ridiculous.' '> Ill spill as soon as im told what the A for 'A.Ham' is for.' ' Alexander Hamilton.' '> John laurens.' That's how it started. Alexander wasn't sure what compelled him to actually speak to this man - perhaps it was the fact that he was hardly asking to be spoken to -, but getting to know him, he didn't regret it whatsoever. And, really, he was surprised how quickly things escalated. Give them two weeks and they were face timing for hours every day; even when Alexander remains typing furiously and John is nothing but quiet snores on the other line. Two months, and they were sending birthday presents to eachother. (It was like a competition, honestly. On Alexander's twenty-fifth birthday, he received a quill and ink pot that's been on his wishlist for eons, with the note 'here u dork - John' on top, inside the box. Alexander retaliated, and when it was John's birthday, him turning twenty-six - he would joke on how he was older all the time - Alexander sent him a three hundred dollar PetSmart gift card, with the note 'To fuel your stupid obsession with turtles - Alex'.)
(He was being face timed two hours after it said the package had landed. He was greeted with John, who had a turtle in his hair and one on his shoulder. He swore he was having a heart attack.)
They had known each other for, four years online, tomorrow marking the fifth year. Tomorrow, marking the day John flies to New York, and they finally meet in real life, instead of having one in New York and one in South Carolina. Tomorrow, Alexander is completely and utterly fucked, and exposed, when it comes to promises he had made and yet to keep, and secrets that he was supposed to not have anymore. John had figured out during a face-time. Alexander was completely thrown off when receiving a call at three in the morning, when going through an episode and attempting to muffle his sobs so that his neighbours wouldn't hear through the thin walls and file a noise complaint. He jumped when he heard the phone go off, staring at it for a few moments, and blinking. He sniffled, rubbing at his cheeks and eyes with his sleeve until it burnt and felt like he was rubbing his skin off, before answering. His room was dark from him not bothering to turn on any lights, not caring enough, but there was enough light coming through the blinds and coming from the phone for John to notice his red face, puffy eyes, and the fault in his bright smile. It only took him one question for Alexander to break down and admit.
John's been on his tail from that point. Making him promise to eat, shower, pay bills, go to work, seek help. One of the biggest promises he was forced into was a refrain from hurting himself, which Alexander seemed to struggle with the most. He was tipped to write on himself, instead. He didn't have enough ink in his newly bought sharpie to stop the urges. But it didn't matter, because it was too late, and now he was having to dress for summer weather and still seem slightly decent, seeing as though this was their first fucking meeting. He remembered asking what he should wear. "Alex, it doesn't matter. It's not like this is my first time seeing you. Just.. The first in real life." "But I wanna look good for you, daddy~." "Oh my god-" "You like it when I call you that, shut up." "Just wait until I actually fuck you!" He continued swearing it didn't matter. It did. He settled on green. He always looked good in green. He left his hair down. "Honestly, I prefer it down. It's like.. Ribbons. It's beautiful." He wrapped his arms. He got his sign. And, he left.
He went to the airport in an Uber, wanting more time to actually look at the freckled man and speak to him instead of having to focus on the road ahead of him. He wanted to give the man as much attention as he possibly could. He couldn't help but anxiously fidget with his clothing while he waited to get there, pulling at his sleeves so they were less wrinkled, moving his shorts down farther on his legs so he wasn't as exposed. Fidgeting with the ends of his bandaging, before pressing it down to his skin again. It was on both arms, but he couldn't much worry about that when he was about to see John Laurens, and in person. Finally, they got there. And Alexander doubted he could have been more excited for anything in his life. It was strange, the fact that one person in his life and one person only - one thing - could get his interest, nowadays. Could get him to express something other than fatigue, sadness, frustration. And, really, he owed his life to this man. Pushing through crowds of people to get to the front, knowing fully well that he was nowhere near tall enough to stand in the back and hope to be seen, he raised his sign in the air high above his head, bright eyes frantically searching for any freckled man he could find and his lips curled up into a hopeless smile.
