Signe rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth still curled up into an affectionate smile. Her entire life her father had been goofy and silly and such a dad. There was just no title that suited him better – except maybe doctor and husband. She knew not every girl grew up with a father so attentive and supportive so she did her best to be grateful for the affection, even if sometimes it could be overwhelming. “Du är knäpp,” she muttered, fondly calling her crazy. “I don’t think I’m at the point where I need to resort to stealing the wallets of old men.” She grinned up at him, proud of herself for the playful jab she tossed at him. “Although, don’t tempt me… I know your PIN.” There was a slight pause as she pondered his question. It had been a little over a month now since she moved out of her parents’ place. “It’s…weird,” she admitted, softly. “I like having my own space, and being in charge of it all. But sometimes I miss seeing Mamma grading papers at the dining room table, or you hovering over my shoulder when I’m cooking and complaining about the lack of meat.” She stared at the sidewalk ahead, then to their feet, and finally glanced at him. “I miss you guys too, but I think you’ve be proud by how I’ve got my place all set-up now. It feels like me.”
twenty four years ago, he was huddled on the bathroom floor with his wife. they both clutched a positive test in their hands and, through glistening eyes, søren vowed to never leave them. in that moment he allowed their family to take over every corner of his life, and not once had he ever regretted the decision. whenever he looked at signe’s face, heard of her accomplishments and commiserated her strokes of bad luck, he remembered the moment he held his girlfriend’s face in his hands and asked her to be his wife. he would have done it again a million times over. even more so, if søren had known just how lucky he was to raise signe, to watch her grow up, and to have her as a close friend in her adulthood. “famously, i’m not all that good at walking,” he poked his elbow into her side, keeping close as they walked, “but i’m sure i can make it a few blocks. unless you want to kick me in the knee and run off with my wallet.” part of søren wanted to turn back to that painting. he couldn’t seem to rid that niggling in his stomach that he had done wrong, and made mental note of the image to describe — clumsily — to sigrid once he was home. they walked steadily ; only those that knew him would ever notice the slight hesitation in his gait, how steps with his right leg were a half - second behind those with his left. “so, how is it, living out on your own ? we miss you, you know — it’s quiet without you home.”
⇢ 🎸 STATUS ﹕ open. ( 1/6 ) ⇢ 🎸 TAGGING ﹕ophelia + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ 🎸 LOCATION ﹕ mango bay art district.
Ophelia sat on a folding stool across the street from the Arts District gallery. Her guitar case lay open at her feed, half-filled with crumpled bills and loose change. Her voice curled into the air of the late afternoon, low and a bit rough – like she'd just woken up. Her vintage acoustic was resting against one knee as her fingers danced over the strings. Her eyes absent-mindedly scanned the passerby crowd, and her playing as she noticed someone watching. Ophelia stilled her strings and smirked, “Careful,” she began, a teasing lilt to her tone. “If you stare too long, I'm going to assume you're planning to request something.”
@anchorsfm
Warrior Nun Season One Episode Five
Isaiah 30:20-21
Signe had come up behind her mother, recognizing the woman was in the middle of a painting session and waited to be acknowledged. When her mother spoke, Signe chuckled. “You say rusty as if that’s not one of the most stunning paintings I’ve ever seen,” she teased, tilting her head to observe the landscape that she had been working on. “It’s really good, Mamma.” And it was good to see her mother allowing herself the small pleasures of being creative. While Sigrid Holmström was extremely analytical, she was also an intensely creative soul and Signe had credited her mother more than once for her own artistic streak.
who: sigrid & open @palmviewstarters where: the painting station
when sigrid had heard that there would be a painting station , she'd been very excited. it wasn't that often that she brought out her paints these days but it was a freeing activity that always helped calm her busy mind. she'd been sitting in front of her canvas for little over an hour and the landscape she'd been creating had slowly been taking shape. "this was such a nice event ," sigrid said. "i feel a little rusty , but it's getting somewhere."
[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { CELINE ANH DONNELLY } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is ? they kind of look like { MAGGIE Q } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 45 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { 8 YEARS }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { TBA } from { TBA }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { SEAGLASS HOSPITAL } as a { HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE JADED FLAME } of palmview! they took a liking to the name too after a while, go figure. oh crap, they must have heard me yapping. they’re coming this way. i got to warn you though, rumor has it they can pretty { GUARDED } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { RESILIENT } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 3 BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { OCEAN’S LANDING }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you! { KRYS. 32. SHE/HER. EST. }
name: celine anh donnelly (formerly waller) nickname(s): cel, cece, lina, b (only by jack) age: forty5 birthday: 12 august 1979 gender/pronouns: cis woman + she/her sexuality: undefined occupation: hospital administrator at seaglass hospital residence: ocean's edge ( 420 ocean dr ) time in palmview: 8 years
celine was born to a vietnamese immigrant mother and an irish american father. she grew up in los angeles and always had a flare for the dramatic. she grew up with three brothers and very quickly learned how to stand up for herself. she moved to new york to pursue a dream of acting on broadway and it was in the city that she met jack wallen. the two had an unusual courting and romance but soon found themselves pregnant and quickly married. celine retired from acting and focused on getting more steady work so as to better provide for their daughter. jack found a job at the local university and moved them to palmview, florida. they built a lovely life together or so celine thought. a little over a year ago, jack came out to her and the two divorced. it was a painful, but necessary process. the two still co-parent their daughter together, sharing custody. now, at forty five, celine is left wondering what comes next.
full bio here.
✨ brothers ✨ old friends from los angeles & nyc ✨ neighbors ✨ current crushes ✨ new flame ✨ work friends/coworkers ✨ parent friends ✨ i'm up for anything!! just DM me!
She offered him a secret smile, one that highlighted just how much she enjoyed their little back and forth, like they were the only two who understood the true meaning behind their words. A pleased flush was on her cheeks when his lips brushed against them, the blush something that was becoming a semi-permanent trait in his presence. “Oh, you can’t stop thinking about me?” Her hand came up to his chest, her fingers trailing along the frankly disrespectful display of bare skin before lifting her gaze to his. “For the record, I mildly enjoy your company the most when you’re making declarations like that.” With that stupid pretty mouth was the part she left unsaid. A beat passed and then she added, softer. “But you’re right. I like having you around… like who I am around you.” Her hand traced up his collarbone and then she brushed her thumb along the edge of his jaw. “I don’t care who you used to be, Charlie. I care about who you choose to be now. I know we pretty much just met, but this version of you? He’s a good man,” Signe leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth with quiet intention. “And from the little I know, even back then, you had this heart underneath it all. Even if you were to slip, you’d find your way back.” She looked into his eyes, making sure he saw how much she believed the words she was saying. She smiled and reached into the pocket of her dress, pulling out her phone. “Come on, let’s take a selfie. I want to remember our first date,” she said, whirling around and leaning back into him. She snapped a few photos quickly, trying to catch him off-guard in a few before he posed with her. Signe giggled, glancing at the photos on her phone. She looked over her shoulder and smirked, mischief sparking in her eyes. “Want to take a really unhinged one?”
Charlie arched a brow, the cocky edge to his grin settling in as he stepped closer, just enough for her to feel his presence. He raised his eyebrows, leveling his eyes to hers, "You only mildly enjoy my company under very specific circumstances… got it," he said, drawing the words out with playful mock offense. He tilted his head, eyes glittering with teasing challenge as he slowly licked his lips, then dipped his head. "I think," he murmured low near her ear, "you’re tryin’ to keep me around more than you’re lettin’ on." He didn’t move far after that, gaze softening slightly as he leaned back just enough to meet her eyes.
"I get what you mean. Maybe that’s what I am too.. I’ve always chased connection, maybe attention, if we’re bein’ honest. I just liked bein’ around people. Didn’t matter who, really." He paused. "I might feel a bit different now, though... Can’t stop thinkin’ about you." His lips brushed just barely against her cheek, gentle and intentional.
His voice dipped again, quieter this time, the smile faltering only slightly. "My mum never expected much from me.. she just wanted me happy. It was everyone else. Coaches, mates, teachers… my father.. they saw potential and pushed it hard. I was good, so it made sense." He shrugged, the motion small but rigid at the edges. "And then it was.. well I had to change plans. Just like that." His injury may have been nearly a decade prior, but it hadn't hurt him any less.
Charlie’s eyes dropped for a moment, thumb brushing lightly along her arm aimlessly, grounding himself as much as her. "I think what scares me most is slippin’ back into who I used to be.. The kid with a mile hight wall, always deflectin’ with a joke.. Or worse, turnin’ into the men I was raised around." He looked down at her, thoughtfully, "I don't wanna be the man I was.. I really like what I have now, and I don't intend on screwin' this up." He looked back up at her then, the smile returning, smaller but more real. "And I’m not gonna, Signe. Not with you. I'm not goin' anywhere and I mean that. You're not gonna scare me away."
She clinked her glass against his, smiling as she took a sip. Signe allowed herself to be led to the living room and sat on the couch in front of the television. It warmed her heart that he was so excited, that he had actually put thought and effort into the silly little game she’d thought up. She felt his hand brush against her knee as they settled into their seats and simply scooted closer. Charlie gave her a sheepish look, begging her to be gentle and she couldn’t help but lean in to brush her lips against his cheek. “Don’t worry, you’re safe with me,” she murmured, the words not light-hearted but not quite teasing. She was being honest with him, but she wanted some of the tension in his shoulders to ease.
Signe felt the shift the moment Nothing started to play – the way Charlie settled into the cushions like he was bracing for impact. She didn’t say anything, just let the song speak for itself. The first category was the song that made them think of each other. The way he picked this one first made her chest ache in a way that surprised her. She felt her eyes sting at the raw vulnerability the song displayed. She glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at her. So, she just reached and brushed her fingers along the back of his hand. She didn’t press for a look or a smile, just letting him know that she was here.
The second song, Seventeen Going Under, came on and she nodded as he explained. Something boat it felt like something Charlie would have had in his headphones as a teenager. She could feel the old bruises tucked under every lyric. She cracked a smile the second Red Wine Supernova started, recognizing the song immediately. “I would never judge your hyperpop era,” she teased. “Honestly, it’s a little hot picturing this on your running music set.” She watched him sway along, foot tapping and warmth filled her. She playfully bumped his knee and gave her a cheeky little smile.
The opening to My Boo pulled a surprised laugh from her. She looked at him as he explained why it had made the list. “Of course you would start impromptu Usher dance breaks at work.” Signe giggled into her wine glass, but her smile was soft. She was definitely storing this little factoid to pull out randomly as some point in the future. The final song started playing – the one whose category she’d thrown in on a whim – and Signe just sat there, listening intently. This was a version of him that no one else got to see.
When his playlist finished, she set her glass down and reached for his hand again, this time holding it properly. “Charlie, that was –” she stopped herself before she got too earnest to fast, her eyes flicking to the TV. “Spectacular. I can’t believe you made that for me.” She squeezed his hand, and then the corners of her mouth quirked up into a grin. She reached for the remote and started queuing hers up. “Alright, Mr. Emotionally Rinsed… I don’t know if my playlist will hold a candle to yours, but the gentle rule applies to you as well!”
First up was Think I Wanna See You Again by Grace Enger. She offered up no explanation, but her cheeks heated immediately. The first time she’d heard the song, there was only one face and name that had come to mind. The same face that she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since they’d crossed paths in the art district. It was almost as if she could have written the lyrics herself, and it left Signe feeling terribly exposed.
Up next was White Houses by Vanessa Carlton. She smiled softly, only braving to look at Charlie from the corner of her eye. “I’ve got a thing for singer/songwriter vibes, you’ll notice. Vanessa Carlton is queen.” She paused briefly. “This song also felt incredibly relevant to me when I first moved to the United States. Like you said for your song, I identified with the song so much, it’s just an all-time favorite of mine.”
Then, the familiar notes of Mamma Mia filled the room. Only it wasn’t ABBA’s original, but the cover by A*Teens. Signe laughed and buried her face in her hands. “Okay, this is more a guilty pleasure because of the group,” she said, glancing at him. “I’m a true Swede so, of course, my parents brought me up on ABBA, but A*Teens was this whole project to bring ABBA’s music to a younger generation and it was a whole moment in my life.”
The fourth song was Night Changes by One Direction, but the live acoustic version. Signe had grown up at the peak of 1D-mania, but she had always gravitated to the soft, more intimate cuts. She would never admit how often she still plays this song but she still smiled. “I was a total Directioner as a kid, and when I tell you I sobbed when Zayn left the group, it was world-shattering for me,” she admitted with a soft chuckle at her younger self.
Then finally came Dangerous Woman by Ariana Grande. “You didn’t misinterpret at all” was all that she murmured, leaning back into the couch and into Charlie’s side, almost as if she could hide from the words that she was putting out there between them. One would think after Kissin’ On My Tattoos, she would no longer be embarrassed, but who said she was logical? As the song came to an end, Signe cleared her throat, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “So there you have it, I’m still not completely happy with it but that’s me in playlist format.”
Charlie laughed at her comment, cheeks flushing even as he tried to mask it with a sip of wine. Of course she could tell how eager he was, how much this playlist thing meant to him. She saw through him with terrifying ease. It was thrilling and slightly disarming. "Alright, fine," he muttered with mock defeat, tapping the rim of his glass against hers. "I am very excited. No one’s ever made me do a playlist like this before, alright? I’m emotionally compromised." He took the glass, tipping the rim against hers in a clink. "I have the order written down, so we can go through it." He took a sip, then gave her a crooked grin before tipping his head toward the couch. "Come on. We’ll set it up on the telly. Proper presentation and all that. Like a tasting menu, just… with musical emotional baggage." He grabbed the crostini on the way out, a proud smile resting on his lips.
Once they were settled, he scrolled through his Xbox to pull up the songs, his hand briefly brushing against her knee as he reached for the remote. It lingered a second longer than it needed to, nothing overly dramatic, just that electric, I know you’re here and I like that you are kind of touch. "Alright then," he exhaled, suddenly more serious, almost sheepish. "Signe Holmström. This is me barin’ my soul. If I start cryin’ halfway through, just pretend I’ve got allergies or somethin’, yeah? Be gentle with my heart."
The first notes of Nothing by Bruno Major filled the room, and his posture shifted, shoulders tucked in slightly, like he could make himself smaller while the words did the talking. His hands fiddled with the edge of his sleeve as the lyrics poured out everything he hadn’t had the nerve to say aloud. He didn’t dare look at her until the song ended, but when he did, it was with a quiet, searching softness.
Next was Seventeen Going Under by Sam Fender. That one, he could explain. "Grew up with this one in my bones," he murmured, voice low. "First time I heard it I kinda freaked at how me it felt.. It’s angry and sad and weirdly hopeful. Like.. I dunno, like ‘yeah, it’s all gone to shit, but I’m still runnin'.." He chuckled, but it didn’t quite hide the way his thumb kept rubbing his knuckles.
Then came Red Wine Supernova. Charlie shot her a look, cheeky again now. "Right. Don’t judge. This is my guilty pleasure. No idea what she’s even singin’ about half the time but, God, it gets in my blood." He tapped his foot along to the beat, shoulders swaying and grinning to himself before casting her a quick glance. "It’s good runnin’ music. Good tryin’ not to think music. The girl can sing."
The fourth song was My Boo. The instant the intro played, he let out a laugh, leaning his head back on the cushion. "This one’s just joy, innit? Played all the time in the kitchen at work when we’re preppin’. I started it back in France, had a mate there that also loved Usher and it became a tradition. Makes everyone start dancin’. And by everyone, I mean me." He turned to her with a flash of that grin that meant I’m letting you in on something no one else gets.
Then came the last one. The one that sat a little heavier in his chest. Kissin’ On My Tattoos. He didn’t give an explanation this time. Just stared ahead for a long moment, hands folded between his knees as the smooth, intimate melody filled the room. When it ended, he looked over at her. Not cocky. Not even teasing. Just honest. "I'm hopin' I didn't misinterpret what ya meant with that," he said quietly. "But it is what I think about at two in the mornin'.." He chuckled lightly now, a bit of tension leaving his chest.
Then, finally, he looked back at her, smile pulling gently at the corner of his mouth. "So… that’s me. Emotionally rinsed and dried. Winnin' the race." He bumped her knee gently with his. "Your turn, love. But fair warnin’.. you cry and I’m makin’ you a cuppa and wrappin’ you in a blanket whether you like it or not." There was a gleam in his eye, a flicker of nerves under the humor. But he wasn’t running from it. Not this time. Not with her.
Even if she hadn’t confirmed Signe’s suspicions, she would have immediately been able to tell the girl was an artist from the way her eyes sparked with excitement as she spoke about her paintings. The way the words would come out in an enthusiastic rush was a dead giveaway. Signe laughed, glad that the girl related to the sudden itch of inspiration and the frustration at not planning ahead for the moment. “I like to think of the different ways people interpret art is pretty similar to the different ways people can style the same item of clothing,” Signe smiled, fiddling with the ends of her hair, agreeing that it was an interesting phenomenon. “Right? It’s happened to me enough times that you think I’d just learn to carry a sketchpad with me wherever I go.” “I love that you’re painting sunsets,” she said softly, her voice warm and thoughtful. “Most people might think there’s only one way to pain them but it’s just like you said – the time of year, the time of day, the colors can all be so vastly different. And no matter what the way the colors blend together, it’s always beautiful.” Signe tilted her head to the side as she considered the other girl’s question. “I haven’t worked on any sunsets myself lately – I did a few for assignments in high school, though. It kind of turned into this abstract piece–lots of messy layers. It turned into an emotional map of sorts…like this layer was when I was overwhelmed, this layer is where I felt okay again.” She giggled, shaking her head at the memory of the class assignment. “As a teenage girl who’d just moved across the ocean, I bet you can imagine what a mess it was.”
" i do paint, yeah. i have one that i finally got the chance to finish the other day. it's not entirely done yet or good enough to be shown, but it will be eventually. " bella loved to get the chance to talk about her art whenever she had gotten the chance. " it's always been interesting to me how everyone can interpret a certain painting, you know? " the brunette listened the other speak as her eyes had scanned around the other paintings that were on their displays. " i was just about to say the same. sometimes it makes me feel like i should've just brought it to sketch down a simple idea if the inspiration happened to strike me at a random moment. being in a place like this it's almost hard for it not to, you know? " a quick nod of her head soon followed at signe's next comment. " that's always how it ends up working out! you could've had an idea in your head and then the outcome isn't always entirely as you may have pictured for it to be. " there was so many different things that she genuinely loved to paint about. " lately, i've been painting sunsets. there's just something that seems so peaceful about it, some have more of a fall vibe. while others have more of a summer kind of vibe to it. kind of makes me wonder what my next one will possibly end up being. have you worked on any recently? "
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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