Signe   Holmström   had   always   been   someone   who   carefully   thought   and 

Celine's   expression   shifted,   barely   concealing   her   amusement.   Her   eyes   glanced   down   at   the   basket   in   his   hand   with   several   well-worn   books.   "Books,"   she   noted,   a   hint   of   approval   slipping   into   her   voice.   "I'm   surprised   you   managed   to   find   that   many   in   a   shop   like   this."   His   sudden   lava   lamp   factoid   made   her   blink   once   and   then   let   out   a   laugh,   slightly   incredulous.   "Astro   lamps,   huh?"   she   echoed,   folding   her   arms.   "That   kind   of   sounds   like   the   name   of   a   failed   disco   band   from   the   seventies.   I   kinda   love   that."   She   leaned   against   one   of   the   nearby   display   tables   and   tilted   her   head   at   the   boy.   "Are   you   always   full   of   obscure   trivia,   or   is   today   just   my   lucky   day?"   she   asked.

Henry looked up as he heard the woman speak, wondering if she was actually conversing with him or just thin air. And then she turned to him, causing his cheeks to color up a little bit as her eyes unexpectedly met his. “Well--” Before he really had time to voice his opinion on the sunglasses, she was asking him another question. A faint smile touched his lips as she spoke, though his nose wrinkled just slightly at the idea of couches with suspicious stains. “Well, none of those,” he admitted, and held up the basket that was dangling from one hand, which was full of books. Mostly paperbacks, a few hardcover, many with yellowing pages. He glanced around the store before his eyes turned back to her. “Did you know lava lamps were originally called Astro Lamps and originated in the UK?”

Signe   laughed   quietly,   a   bit   sheepish   as   she   observed   the   skill   with   which   the   woman   tied   off   the   knot   of   her   bracelet. “I   can definitely   tell.   You   make   it   look   so   effortless,”   she   said,   almost   wistfully.   The   bracelet   the   girl   had   made   was   bright,   clean   and   perfectly   knotted. “I’m   pretty   sure   mine   tried   to   strangle   itself   halfway   through,”   she   muttered   dryly   as   she   watched   the   woman’s   thumbs   go   to   work   on   the   tangled   mess   she   made. “I’m   great   with   a   sewing   needle,   but   apparently   string   is   where   my   creativity   draws   the   line.”

a  piece  of  thread  between  her  teeth  keeps  adhira  from  responding  right  away,  edges  of  her  lips  curving  upward  as  she  looks  over  at  the  other's  work  in  progress.  as  the  last  bead  is  threaded  onto  her  string,  she  carefully  takes  it  from  between  her  teeth,  tying  a  knot  and  then  doubling  it  before  really  assessing  the  situation  in  front  of  her.  “trust  me,  it  took  me  a  lot  of  practice  to  get  this  good,”  her  own  bracelet  slid  across  the  table  in  offering  and  traded  for  the  tangle  of  string.  thumb  nails  get  to  work  almost  immediately,  looking  for  the  end  of  the  mess  to  unravel.  “but,  don't  worry.  i'm  somewhat  of  a  magician  when  it  comes  to  jewelry  making,  you're  in  good  hands.”

SIGNE: oh no!! SIGNE: i haven't seen anything out of the ordinary today... SIGNE: do you need help looking??

closed text starter for @ofresoluxe

priya: hi, sorry to bother ! priya: but have you seen a black cat around town today ? priya: i think the maintenance person let him slip out when they were at my place earlier 😓

If   she   were   being   honest,   the   last   bit   of   the   movie   she   spent   more   time   observing   Charlie   than   the   film.   She   thought   since   she'd   seen   it   more   times   than   she   could   count   that   she   could   be   forgiven   for   the   trespass.   Signe   watched   as   Charlie's   body   language   just   told   her   the   movie   was   really   bringing   up   some   possibly   unaddressed   emotions.   She   said   nothing,   choosing   to   squeeze   his   hand   instead.   The   ending,   as   always,   had   her   eyes   lining   with   tears   that   did   not   fall   and   a   small,   smile   on   her   lips.   She   accepted   the   tissues   from   him   and   nuzzled   her   face   into   his   arm   in   a   show   of   comfort.   At   Charlie's   question,   she   pondered   for   a   moment,   letting   the   credits   scroll   for   another   moment,   her   cheek   pressed   against   his   shoulder   as   she   did   so.   Then,   she   turned   to   him   and   at   their   joined   hands,   fidgeting   with   his   fingers. "It   is   honest,"   she   murmured.   "It's   so   vulnerable   it   kinda   makes   your   chest   ache,   doesn't   it?"   Her   green   eyes   flicked   over   his   face,   studied   his   glassy   eye   and   the   little   crease   in   his   brow.   It   made   her   want   to   cup   his   face   and   kiss   the   worry   lines   away.   "I   think   they   find   themselves   first.   Become   who   they're   meant   to   be   and   then   find   each   other   again."   Signe   swallowed,   her   own   throat   feeling   tight,   and   dabbed   her   eyes   with   the   tissues   Charlie   had   offered   her   earlier.   His   thumb   swept   across   her   knuckles   and   she   smiled   softly.   "I   don't   know   if   this   is   my   boldest   stroke,"   she   began   quietly.   Signe   snuck   a   glance   at   him,   memorizing   his   features   in   this   moment.   "But   I   just   wanted   to   say...I'm   really   glad   you're   here,   Charlie.   Not   just—"   she   waved   a   hand   around   them   dismissively.   "—here   on   the   couch,   but   here.   With   me." The   quiet   confession   seemed   almost   too   loud   and   Signe   could   hear   her   heart   thudding   in   her   chest.   She   leaned   forward   and   kiss   him,   slow   and   sure   and   grateful.   The   gesture   almost   a   thank   you   for   the   way   he'd   watched   her   favorite   movie   and   made   her   feel   seen   and   understood.   It   was   absolutely   maddening.   When   she   finally   pulled   back,   Signe   offered   him   a   teasing   smile.   "The   Godfather   has   it's   own   place   in   cinema   history,   don't   you   thinkI   It's   own   messages   and   themes   to   grapple   with,"   she   paused   for   dramatic   effect   before   adding.   "Like   the   importance   of   family,   loyalty…   and   never   trusting   anyone   who   puts   ketchup   on   their   pasta."

By the time Paul was coming to the realization, hurling those words at Ellie, Charlie was on the edge of his seat, leaning forward on the couch, forearms braced on his knees, hands knotted together in front of him. He inhaled sharply, lips parting slightly at the sound of it, the blunt violence in Paul’s voice cutting through the soft hum of the room. The scene twisted something inside him. Memories crept in, uninvited of an old mate from school, someone he got too close to once, who smiled at him in a way that made everything confusing and wonderful. His friend's mum had walked in on them, too near, too comfortable, and that was it. Days of avoidance and one stern talk later, and suddenly he was told they weren’t allowed to be friends anymore. It had never even had a name. He blinked hard and leaned back slowly, wiping a hand across his mouth as if that would settle the shake in his chest. "Fucked up," he muttered. "She did so much for the guy." Beside him, Signe didn’t say anything, just quietly reached for his hand under the blanket again. This time, he squeezed back.

Charlie's heart nearly dropped out of his chest as the film edged toward its closing, going still again. His breath caught during the painting metaphor, 'Maybe if you never make the bold stroke, you’ll never know if you could’ve had a great painting.' It hit different now. With Signe pressed into his side, with her warmth grounding him, he felt that line down to the bone. 'Is this really the boldest stroke you could make'. He swallowed down on the large lump in his chest as Ellie spoke to her father, those moments of silent cooking together drawing his mind to his mum. He missed home, he missed his friends, he missed her. But he wasn't sad about it. It felt right. And then came the train station. Ellie’s quiet 'I’ll see you in a couple years'. Paul running alongside the train. Ellie laughing through the tears.

Charlie sat in silence for a long moment, eyes glassy and locked on the screen. The first tear slipped free before he even realized. He laughed softly as he swiped at it. "Shit, love. You weren’t jokin’." His voice cracked with the words, a disbelieving sort of fondness in it as he reached for the box of tissues on the table. He passed one to her first, then grabbed a few for himself, blinking fast as the credits rolled. "Proper hit me, that one." His voice softened as he turned toward her, eyes still wet but shining. "You think they find each other again?" Charlie’s eyes lingered on hers a beat too long. His thumb brushed hers again. "Don’t think I’ve ever seen somethin’ that honest," he said, almost like a confession. "Definitely nothin' like The Godfather, yeah?" He leaned in, pressing a soft and delicate kiss to her lips, voice dipping sincerely. "Thank you for sharin' that."

Signe   didn’t   consider   herself   extremely   bold   or   wild   by   nature,   but   there   was   something   about   the   way   Charlie   responded   to   her   teasing   that   just   lit   her   up   from   the   inside   out.   Thoroughly   pleased   to   have   affected   him   with   just   her   words,   Signe   had   settled   into   the   sofa,   waiting   expectantly.   He   asked   about   the not-so-mild   playlist   and   she   smirked   to   herself.  “I’ll   see   what   I   can   do   for   you.”   The   food   smelled   absolutely   intoxicating   and   she   found   she   was   growing   more   and   more   excited   to   try   his   food.   Of   course,   he’d   prepared   semla   for   her   on   their   first   date,   but   dessert   was   very   different   to   an   actual   meal.   She   watched   as   Charlie   carried   their   plates   over,   her   eyes   lingered   on   the   tattoos   of   his   arm   before   focusing   on   the   meal   and   enticing   scent   wafting   around   then.   “It   smells  divine.”  Signe   offered   him   a   playful   smile   as   she   accepted   the   plate,   leaning   into   the   kiss   he   pressed   to   the   top   of   her   head.  “Since   you   listed   yourself,   does   that   mean   you’re   on   the   menu   too?”  she   asked,   cheekily.   She   giggled   as   he   came   to   sit   beside   her,   thighs   pressing   together   and   she   hummed,   pleased   at   the   closeness.   She   was   about   to   dig   into   her   plate   when   Charlie   took   the   plate   back.   She   barely   had   a   chance   to   protest   when   he   cupped   her   face   and   kissed   her   senseless.   A   soft   noise   of   surprise   escaped   her   before   she   eagerly   responded   to   the   kiss,   truly   melting   into   it.   He   was  everywhere   –   his   taste   on   her   lips,   his   touch   on   her   cheek   –   and   then   he   had   the   nerve   to   pull   away   like   he   hadn’t   just   set   her   entire   nervous   system   on   fire.   Signe   barely   registered   the   movie   title   that   blinked   on   the   screen   as   she   let   out   a   slow,   stunned   breath   trying   to   calm   her   heart   galloping   in   her   rib   cage.  “Now   we   can   eat?”  she   echoed,   incredulous.   She   turned   toward   Charlie   with   narrowed   eyes,   playful   yet   dangerous.  “Because   …   what?   That   was   the   appetizer?”  Signe   reached   for   her   plate   once   more,   steadying   herself   with   a   rather   large   gulp   of   wine.  “I’ll   get   you   back   for   that.   I   thought   you   said   no   more   teasing.”   She   smirked   at   him   before   taking   a   bite   of   the   salmon   on   her   plate   and   then   groaned   in   satisfaction.   “Oh,   that   is  fantastic,”  Signe   said,   covering   her   mouth   to   finish   chewing   before   focusing   on   Charlie.  “You  made   that.”   Her   eyes   were   wide   with   wonder   at   his   ability   to   bring   together   ingredients   in   a   way   that   complimented   each   other   so   well.  “You   really are   good   at   this,   aren’t   you?”

Charlie’s laugh echoed from the kitchen, warm and full-bodied, the kind that spilled out with no filter. Deep, surprised, and slightly unsteady. He stood there with a ridiculous grin, plating their food like it was a Michelin tasting, even though all he really wanted was to abandon the counter, cross to the other room, and kiss her until he forgot what restraint tasted like. He finished up the salmon and vegetables, trying to focus on not burning his fingertips or slapping down the garnish too aggressively, but it wasn’t easy. Not after that voice from the living room, all cool and tempting and laced with just enough heat to short-circuit his self-control. He shook his head, biting down on his bottom lip as he tried to refocus. "You’re tryin’ to corrupt me, love," he called back, the words slightly breathless. "That was the mild playlist? Christ." He paused, smiling as he laid down the last bit of glazed salmon with practiced precision. The smell was incredible, citrus and spice and garlic and that slight sweetness from the honey, but all he could really think about was the way her voice had wrapped around those words like a dare. Discipline, Hughes. She deserves dinner. "I’m also gonna need a link to that one. For scientific purposes."

Once everything was set, he wiped his hands and took a quiet second to breathe. Then he grabbed both plates and made his way back toward the living room, shoulders relaxed, steps easy, but eyes locked on her. He walked in, sleeves still rolled with tattoos peeking out from under, carrying their plates carefully in each hand. The way she was curled into his sofa, waiting for him not just politely, but eagerly, sent something twisting in his chest. "Alright, alright, no more teasin’," he said, presenting the plates with all the air of a man delivering a masterpiece. "Spiced glazed salmon, garlicky roasted veg, and a chef trying very hard not to get distracted by the fact that you’re actively ruining him."

He handed her the plate like it was sacred, balanced and perfect, even adding a soft "Enjoy" under his breath. He bent to press a kiss to the top of her head, one hand lingering briefly on her shoulder as if to ground himself. Then he circled around, setting his own plate down before sinking into the couch beside her, closer than before. Their thighs touched, and he didn’t bother pretending it was accidental. He picked up his own plate, but only for a moment. Then, in a sudden, quiet decision, he set it back down. He turned to her, gaze steady and lips tugged into a smile just shy of smirking. "Actually," he said, reaching gently to take her plate from her hands, catching her gaze with something more heated now. Something inevitable. Before she could respond, he gently set it down on the coffee table without ever breaking eye contact. Then he leaned in, swift and sure, cupping her face with both hands as he kissed her. Properly. No teasing. No testing. Just all of it. Want, gratitude, affection, need. Like he’d held back long enough and decided, finally, to let it land. He hummed into the kiss, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek, savoring the way she responded. It took effort, actual, physical effort, to pull away. When he did, he rested his forehead against hers for a beat, catching his breath, smiling like he’d just won something he hadn’t realized he was competing for. "Right," he said, voice low and a little hoarse. "Now we can eat." Charlie leaned back, lips tucked in, still biting down a grin as he reached for the remote. He hit play, finally, but he didn’t move away. His thigh stayed resting on hers, plate now in his lap, ready to experience her favorite movie, and whatever else this night would bring.

Celine   let   out   a   snort   at   the   idea   of   taking   their   daughter   out   of   sports.   Rosie   had   developed   into   quite   the   little   athlete,   but   no   sport   sung   to   her   the   same   way   soccer   did.   Her   parents   being   who   they   were,   of   course,   had   signed   her   up   for   dance   classes   and   theater,   but   while   she   enjoyed   those   as   hobbies,   Celine   could   see   the   true   spark   in   her   whenever   she   talked   about   her   sport.    "Sure,   you   try   to   pull   her   out   of   soccer   and   let   me   know   how   that   conversation   goes,"   she   smirked.   Jack   invited   her   in   and   she   hesitated   for   the   briefest   of   moments.   She   stared   after   the   space   where   Rosie   had   just   vanished   and   then   turned   her   gaze   back   to   Jack.   His   features   still   familiar   to   her,   and   she   was   still   able   to   read   him   so   easily.   It   was   a   miracle   he'd   been   able   to   keep   anything   from   her   in   the   years   they   were   together. Celine   exhaled   and   nodded,   stepping   inside,   her   eyes   flicking   to   the   snack   on   the   counter.   She   smiled   to   herself—it   was   just   further   proof   that   Jack   was   still   trying   his   damnedest   to   be   the   kind   of   dad   Rosie   deserved.   She   respected   him   more   than   she   could   ever   say   aloud.   Jack   had   always   been   good,   just   not   hers.   Not   fully.   Not   in   the   way   she   thought   she'd   signed   up   for.   And   so,   a   year   later,   they   were   still   trying   to   find   their   way   through   parenting   together,   but   separately. "I   think   she's   just   testing   the   waters.   That's   what   I'm   hoping   at   least.   I   know   she'll   want   to   be   called   Rose   some   day   for   real,   but   I'm   praying   we've   got   a   few   years   left."   There   was   affection   clear   in   her   tone,   and   a   thinly   veiled   pride   for   the   little   girl   with   opinions   too   big   for   her   eight-year-old   frame.   She   studied   Jack   for   a   moment,   catching   the   way   he   rubbed   at   his   face.   He   always   wore   his   guilt   like   a   second   skin.   "I   think...she's   just   trying   to   figure   out   who   she   is   and   where   she   fits   now   that   the   dust's   settled." She   stepped   further   into   the   kitchen.   "Schedules   have   never   been   your   strong   suit,"   she   said,   dropping   her   bag   on   the   counter.   Celine   turned   to   look   at   him,   her   eyes   lingering   on   his   face   longer   than   she   meant   them   to.   Still   handsome.   Still   kind.   Still   someone   she   loved—just   not   in   the   way   she'd   thought   she   would   for   the   rest   of   her   life.   "All   right.   Let   me   see   what   you've   got,   I'll   see   if   I   can't   make   something   work."

Jack would be lying if he said he hadn’t been glancing at the clock all morning waiting for his daughter to arrive. Every minute closer to drop off made his chest lighter. He'd just finished putting a snack on the counter when there was a familiar knock at the door. The second he opened the door, Rosie launched past him with only the chaotic grace she managed to pull off. "Well, hello to you too!" he called after her, laughing as her bedroom door shut in the distance. He turned back just in time to catch Celine’s blink, her arms still full of the overnight bag. Jack took it from her wordlessly, his fingers brushing hers as he did. Even now, even with everything that had changed, their rhythms stayed in sync. That was what made it harder, sometimes. He still felt pangs of guilt in his chest. They'd been so good together, a true unit, that it felt odd for them to take on parenting separately, yet still somehow together.

"She’s getting too fast," he said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, holding a heaviness that never seemed to fully lighten between them. "We might need to rethink the sports. One more growth spurt and I’m done for." He paused, then let the smile fade into something softer. At her words 'It’s not bad', something in his chest twisted. A reflex. The kind you build when you’ve had to break news to someone who loved you. He tilted his head slightly, leaning towards the whisper, years of working around sound equipment not doing him any justice.

"Rose?" he echoed, eyebrows rising. "What, is she turning eighty?" He smirked, then sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face, "This whole.." Jack waved his hands around for emphasis, "personality thing... I thought we had a few good years left before puberty snuck in." He looked back briefly, toward the hallway where Rosie, 'Rose?', had disappeared to. Part of him hoped her door would creak back open and she’d be four again, asking him to retie her shoelaces or make up a bedtime story. But instead he looked back at Celine, eyes a little glassier than he meant them to be. "Would you like to come in?" he asked, voice quieter, a step to his side as an open invitation. "If you’re not in a rush. I’ve been trying to figure out her soccer schedule, but it overlaps with the college showcase and.." he exhaled. "I’m still not great at the calendar stuff." The silence that lingered was soft but familiar, like everything between them now, as complicated as it was, was still whole in its own way.

@evigh3t

I don’t know what I can do to save you.

Signe   hadn’t   meant   to   let   it   show.   Not   really.   Not   the   little   glances,   not   the   way   her   hand   lingered   beside   his   longer   than   necessary,   not   the   way   her   laugh   escaped   her   so   easily.   But   Charlie   was   leaning   in,   not   just   physically,   but   in   an   open,   fearless   way   that   had   something   in   her   quiet   defenses   cracking.   She   felt   the   tiny   brush   of   his   pinky   against   hers   and   she   held   her   breath.   Her   gaze   flicked   down   briefly   and   then   lifted   back   to   his.   The   breath   she   took   was   barely   audible,   but   it   felt   like   lightning   in   her   chest.  She   was   hyper   aware   of  everywhere   that   he   brushed   against   her   and   it   was   more   than   a   little   infuriating.   She   tried   to   focus   on   the   bounty   of   food   that   he   has   prepared   for   them,   but   it   didn’t   help   much.   His   exaggerated   flailing   had   her   giggling   once   more,   and   only   the   mention   of   his   fashion   disasters   had   stopped   her   laughter.   Signe   immediately   straightened,   eyes   sparkling   at   the   idea.  “I   almost   forgot!   Come,   come,   show   me!”    She   bit   her   lip   to   fight   a   smile   as   he   lamented   his   interrupting   her   creative   process.   It   was   something   she   hadn’t   considered   –   how   much   inspiration   she   gets   from   how   artists   depict   clothing   and   movement   -   and   he   had   noticed   it   without   even   trying.   Her   hand   turned   where   it   rested   next   to   his,   pinky   hooking   with   his   just   slightly.   Not   an   accident   this   time.  Her   gaze   had   been   focused   down   on   their   linked   pinkies   when   he   spoke   again.  You’re   brilliant.   Signe’s   eyes   snapped   up   to   look   at   Charlie,   eyes   wide   at   how   open   the   statement   was.   It   felt   like   it   went   beyond   simple   flirting.   She   felt   the   warmth   rising   in   her   cheeks–too   sudden,   too   real.   His   words   curled   around   her   heart,   and   ached   with   equal   parts   longing   and   fear.   And   it   wasn’t   that   she   didn’t   like   hearing   it–God,   she   did.   His   voice   was   so   earnest,   his   eyes   soft   and   open   in   a   way   that   made   it   hard   to   look   away.   But   that   was   the   thing,   wasn’t   it?   He   didn’t know   her.   Not   really.   Not   yet.  For   a   moment,   she   didn’t   speak   like   she   was   trying   to   figure   out   which   part   of   her   to   offer   him   next.   She   let   out   a   soft,   steadying   breath   and   smiled   gently.   “I   like   this   too,”   she   admitted.  “Being   around   you…you’re…”  She   fought   a   smile. “You’re   really   easy   to   like.”   Signe   was   surprised   by   how   easily   the   words   came   out,   despite   the   nerves   blooming   in   her   stomach.  “I   just…You   don’t   really   know   me   yet.   You’re   seeing   a   version   of   me   that’s–charming,   or   whatever.”  Signe   dropped   her   gaze,   feeling   vulnerable   as   she   was   more   honest   with   him   than   she   normally   was   with   most   people.   “I   guess   I   just   worry   that   if   you   get   past   that…the   rest   might   not   be   what   you   were   expecting.”  In   an   effort   to   ease   some   of   the   tension   between   them,   Signe   looked   back   up   at   him,   a   teasing   smile   gracing   her   lips.  “I   mean,   you   don’t   even   know   my   last   name   yet.”

Charlie could’ve listened to her laugh for hours. There was something about the sound that cut right through him, easy and bright, pulling a smile to his face before he could think to stop it. There was a bounce of playful energy between them, but beneath it was something warmer, steadier.

Her swat at his hand after the teasing tickle made him laugh, the kind of laugh that was unfiltered, childlike, and entirely sincere. He leaned back slightly, raising both hands in surrender. “Alright, alright! Message received. Hands where you can see ’em.” But his grin stayed put, and so did the glint in his eye. “I’ll behave.. for now.” He couldn’t help the way he shifted closer in the moment, legs stretched out toward hers, the spread of food between them giving way to the smaller space they were now sharing. He could feel her hand beside his, so close they brushed against each other as he'd reached to grab a strawberry; his knee bumping against her leg. It wasn’t intentional, not fully, but Charlie wasn’t about to pull back either, after all, he rationalized to himself, they were where she could see them.

And then she started talking about her parents. That fondness in her voice hit him somewhere deep in the chest. The way she spoke about their love, their support, it sounded so easy coming from her lips. He listened, picking at the food in front of them with absent hands, but his focus never drifted. His gaze stayed locked on her, quiet admiration softening his features. “Sounds like you hit the jackpot there,” he spoke softly, the smile on his lips genuine but touched with something deeper around the edges. “You know, havin’ people who back you like that… who make it easy to believe in yourself.” He didn’t add not everyone gets that. Didn’t need to. It sat there, unspoken, in the small pause that followed.

When she gave him that playful shove to the shoulder, Charlie leaned into the dramatics again, tipping himself back with a groan like she’d knocked the wind out of him. “Oi! Tryin’ to take me out before I can show off my terrible fashion choices?” His laugh filled the space between them, light and easy, but his eyes stayed soft on her. It was the way she told her story honestly, no bravado, just the kind of quiet passion that made him feel lucky to be listening; that had him leaning in closer without even realizing. His pinky brushed against hers as he adjusted, and this time, he let it stay. Let it slide over, slow and deliberate, his hand shifting just enough that the side of his finger rested against hers fully.

He felt it when she noticed. Felt the small intake of breath, and that crooked smile of his softened into something gentler, something almost shy. “I’m guessin’ that’s why you were starin’ at that painting, yeah?” His voice lowered, teasing but tender. “Caught you right in the middle of your creative epiphany, did I?” Then, leaning back just slightly, but not enough to break the closeness between them, he raised a brow, feigning horror. “Shit… wait. Did I interrupt your whole process? Could’ve stopped the world from experiencin’ the next great piece of fashion. You’ll have to put me in the acknowledgments now, yeah? ‘Dedicated to the lad who ruined my artistic vision by flirtin’ too hard.’” The smirk curved at the edges of his lips, but there was no mistaking the warmth in his eyes. The way he looked at her like he saw all of her, not just the polish she might’ve meant to present.

When he spoke again, his voice dropped into something softer, more honest. “I mean it, though. The way you talk about it.. The way your face lights up… It’s brilliant, Signe. You’re brilliant.” There was that voice in the back of his head, the one that always told him to stay guarded, to keep it cool, to never lean too soft. But tonight, Charlie let himself ignore it. Because he was learning, slowly and stubbornly that gentleness and vulnerability weren’t weaknesses. They were the strongest things he could offer. "I might be comin' on strong, here.. I just don't wanna mess this up.. I like this.. you. I like you."

[ … ] ❀ 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. }

𝓲. 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚜

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

𝓲𝓲. 𝚝𝚕𝚍𝚛

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.

𝓲𝓲𝓲. 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

✨ 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!

“I’m   not   a   particularly   picky   eater,   so   you   can   just   make   me   your   specialty,”  she   said   with   a   shrug   and   a   smile.   The   smile   couldn’t   help   but   widen   at   his   enthusiasm   about   guessing   the   origin   of   her   accent   so   closely.   Signe   brightened   as   he   shared   that   he’d   spent   time   in   Denmark.  “My   dad’s   from   Denmark,   so   I   spent   a   lot   of   summers   visiting   relatives.   I’m   glad   you   enjoyed   it!   You’ll   have   to   show   me   what   you   learned   while   you   were   there.”   She   walked   beside   him   in   silence,   letting   his   voice   fill   the   space   between   them.   She   was   surprised   that   he   had   chosen   to   share   such   a   detailed   version   of   events   with   her.   A   heavy   weight   sat   on   her   heart   –   not   bad   just…real.   Charlie’s   deciding   ( whether   he   realized   it   or   not )   that   she   was   worth   trusting   with   the   details   of   his   story   meant   more   than   she’d   expected   it   to.   Signe   took   that   show   of   trust   quite   seriously.   She   glanced   over   at   him,   and   watched   the   way   his   eyes   lingered   on   a   new   painting   like   he   was   still   halfway   somewhere   else.   She   could   picture   that   little   boy   in   her   mind   –   bright-eyed,   heart   pounding   in   his   chest   as   he   imagined   what   it   would   be   like   to   have   a   stadium   roaring   for   you.   And   she   could   see   the   man   now,   who   had   pivot   on   his   dream   and   carry   on.   It   agonized   her,   the   thought   of   not   being   able   to   follow   your   passion   and   see   it   all   the   way   through   –   even   if   you   were   destined   to   fail.   To   be   denied   the   opportunity   to  try  would   have   been   the   most   infuriating   of   all.   “You   weren’t   running,”   she   said,   her   voice   soft   but   fierce,   almost   defensive   on   his   behalf.   She   grabbed   his   forearm   and   met   his   gaze   to   make   sure   he   heard   her   next   words.   “You   were.  healing.   It   takes   great   courage   to   find   a   new   dream   like   you   did.   I   don’t   think   I   would   be   able   to   do   that.”   Signe   offered   what   she   hoped   was   a   sympathetic   smile   and   squeezed   his   arm   in   support.  “And   for   what   it’s   worth.   I’m   glad   you   found   your   way   here.”

"Yeah?" He licked his lips in an attempt to keep his smile down, "You let me know what to make for ya, and I'll get the photos out." Charlie's eyes met hers for a brief moment, "As long as you're gentle, I'll be mint." His hands clap together quickly as he learns he guessed well. "I knew it! It's the way ya sing your words." He can't contain his smile as she gives him a small glimpse into her past, "I've been to Denmark before. Studied with a mate at Noma in Copenhagen for a bit before I kept travelin'. I learned a lot there. I was buzzin'. In me element, swear down. I loved it." His eyes glanced around them, but he found himself being drawn back to her each time.

"I get it, what you mean by warm.. I feel the same way." He pauses to think for a moment as he listens to their footsteps, not used to letting people in this quickly. "So when I were a kid, yeah? We lived in a council estate. Rough area, makin' ends meet as much as we could. It were just me and mum. I'd go to school, come home, do me school work, and then I'd cook dinner and clean up around the house while mum was workin'. One year, she tells me she's saved enough to take me to a Man City game for my eighth birthday. At the game she'd said somethin' about watchin' me practice in the yard in the late hours and how she'd been savin' more and she'd signed me up for a footy team." He smiles fondly to himself, "I watched that game and told her I were gonna work hard, just like her, and pay her back. And she told me just to have fun.. So I did. And I was good. I was better than good. By the time I were thirteen, I was havin' scouts come around. I signed to Man City's youth team at fifteen." Charlie stops talking for a moment, looking over at a painting that caught his eye and stopping to take it in.

He finally looks back over at Signe, a sad smile resting on his lips, "I had it all planned out, yeah? My entire life, right there. Everythin' I'd worked for and told my mum I was doin' for us were in the palm of me hand." He chuckles half heartedly, "Well, I sign, right? Make my way out of EDS, which means this is it. Big leagues. Premier league. Two weeks before my startin game I got hurt. Like.. Career endin' injury. And that was it. Had to start over just like that. Back to square one." Charlie brings his eyes back to the painting that had stopped him, "Cooking was the last thing I could remember enjoying before football. It was the only thing that made sense. And it felt like studyin' all over was the best excuse for gettin' out of my town. That way I wouldn't look like I was runnin'."