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Realistic or Modern °⨳°·..·°⨳°⊹٭ 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘍𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘴 ;; 𝘐𝘯 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳 ٭⊹°⨳°·..·°⨳°

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charlie
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“I have been absolutely terrified every moment of my life-- and I have never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do."
― Georgia
O'Keefe


A sharp whistle left Charlie's lips and he snapped his fingers once before patting his thigh as a beckoning to his sweet pup. "Xena! C'mon girl!"

With a final, rapt bark at the squirrel she'd been taunting, Xena did as she was told and eagerly raced her way up to Charlie and pressed herself up against him. He chuckled and ruffled his fingers through her fur. "Gooooood girl Xeens." Xena panted in response as Charlie rose to his feet, tucking his book into the bag he wore over his shoulder. "Alright, let's go-- we got places to go, and we definitely have people to see."

He clipped the end of her guide leash to her collar.

Ding. Ding. Charlie caught himself grinning once again at the sound. He felt like a total goof, smiling like an idiot at a simple text message. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the messages that he already knew were from Paola.


only if i can get you something (:


want a bite to eat or something to drink here?


A moment of panic shifted through Charlie as he forgot every single item that was on the menu at the café. He wasn't even sure if there was an online menu. He stood, staring at his phone, with Xena panting up at him. She was waiting patiently, like the good girl she was. At first he typed in the name of the café, then shook his head and realized he was being ridiculous and he just needed to chill out and remember.

He took a few deep breaths, tucking his phone away for a second, and thought about the last thing he ordered there. It would be a safe bet to just get that. He remembered enjoying it well enough.


well aren't you just the perfect gentleman 😝


that turkey pesto melt sounds good-- and anything iced to drink


Semi-content with his response, but at least unlatched from his frozen state, Charlie continued his walk to the café-- which was honestly more of a semi-jog.

-----

It didn't take him all that long to reach the cafe, and as he strolled inside he found himself proud of the fact that he'd had the foresight to put Xena's ESA vest on her before he'd even left the dorm earlier.

He caught sight of Paola, and one again, that silly little grin of his appeared as he approached her. "I almost forgot what you looked like-- you're even more beautiful than I remember." He didn't think about the words before he said them, but he was glad to stand by them because they were charming. And he wasn't lying.

"Almost didn't think this moment was going to come. I was convinced we'd have to wait til halfway through the semester before we'd be able to do this." He chuckled softly and ruffled his hair nervously. Those pesky butterflies were back.


coded by reveriee.
 
























  • filler


































Alex arrived a week later than everyone else in a streak of bad luck causing him to miss his flight connection; to top it off, the airline initially lost his brand new suitcase which was already sufficiently upsetting, but it also had suffered irreparable damage at some point along the way. What's the point of flying in first class then? Did your luggage get fucked up first? Thankfully, Kant, his beloved pet snake, was unharmed. It took the young man quite some time to recover from this unexpected turn of events as it is known in the family that one does not simply touch, much less break, Alex's things. Half an hour and five pages later, he did feel better when he sent in a complaint on the airline's website as his taxi driver swerved between lanes to get him to Muse's dormitory.

After securing his pet snake’s terrarium and covering it with a dark, heavy blanket (God forbid anyone set their eyes on this snake before he could be there in person to handle the situation), Alex took a brief shower and busted out his iron to steam the wrinkles out of a pale blue button-up shirt. The addition of a relaxed cut pair of beige jeans, paired with brown and white saddle shoes and sleek black sunglasses gave him this half nerdy, half posh allure. He paid a quick visit to the student registration desk to pick up his new student ID card ornated with a surprisingly professional-looking picture of himself with a cornered, almost cheeky smile; clueless as to where he would go to kill some time until he met with the professor who would be his thesis advisor later today, Alex retreated to one of his favourite places in the entire world: the library. He smoked a quick joint before entering the building, but it wasn't the weed (OK, maybe a little) that evoked the excitement he felt inside at the thought of walking through the endless rows of “fresh” old books just begging to be dusted off and (re)discovered.

Muse U’s library was nothing short of breathtaking; its old architecture dating back to the university’s creation in the 1800s made the place look like something taken out of Beauty and the Beast (which he would vehemently deny was his favourite Disney movie to anyone who dared to ask). The entire Literature Arts building was magnificent, really – the young man knew right then and there that he’d made the right decision: this was the change of scenery he needed, away from the weight of his parents’ expectations, but most importantly, away from… him. Alex shook his head as if it could literally take his mind off this thought he so desperately tried to ignore and walked past the archive computers in favour of a simple stroll through the aisles.

“Eighteenth-century women artists: their trials, tribulations & triumphs” by Chapman, C.

“American Poetry: The Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries” by Shields, D.S.

“Tom Sawyer Abroad” Twain, M.

That ought to keep me busy for a while, Alex thought to himself. As he started to look for a place to sit, he wandered for an annoyingly long time before finding a free desk in an isolated corner, with just one woman sitting at another, across from him a few meters away. She took a glance at him, and he gave her a quick nod before sitting down and resting his pile of books on the desk. “Hello,” he whispered. “I hope you don’t mind my presence. I don’t like crowds… even in a library.” He then saw the girl’s earbuds and couldn’t help but feel a little silly for essentially talking to himself. Just another awkward social interaction to add to the ever growing list.

He cracked open his first pick – “Eighteenth-century women artists” – with much internal enthusiasm, eager to discover new artists from this side of the Atlantic – women were far too rarely a part of recorded history and Alex couldn’t wait to learn more about them and their stories. He looked up for a moment to check whether the young woman seemed to be unnerved by his presence: Alex knew what it felt like when someone invaded his private space.

















alex.








ruminating idealist






















Teagan Rose



































♡coded by uxie♡
 

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