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.
Signe’s answering smile was soft and understanding. There was something familiar in what the other girl had said, almost as if she’d pulled the thoughts from Signe’s own head. “Do you paint?” she asked, tilting her head curiously. “I was thinking something very similar myself. The colors and the movement of the dancer’s skirt, even in a portrait have my head spinning on how you could make fabric do that, look like that in real life.” She turned her head back towards the painting in front of them. “Moments like this just have me itching for my sketchbook.” “It’s funny, isn’t it? How sometimes what you end up making ends up looking nothing like what inspired it?” she giggled, mostly amused at the thought. Signe returned her focus to the girl, studying her closely. “What kind of stuff do your normally like to make? You said you were working on something new?”
mango bay art district was a place that bella had came to visit every so often. she lived in ocean's edge but often times would come out to mango bay to take a look around. it sometimes even gave her a little bit of motivation to keep going with her own work. she worked at a bar as of this moment. but in the future? she's hoping to be able to live out her dreams of being an artist somewhere. even a graphic designer if that meant that she was able to get her artwork out there more and more. she had a ton of projects that she was busy working on, as well. but nothing was finished. bella liked to finish majority of her drawings or paintings up when the inspiration for them had seemed to come on through.
recreating different things into your own perspective was always the fun thing about art. at least that's what she had thought about it. she was just starting to approach to the other side when a voice was heard. " oh, no. you're fine. i was simply just observing like every one else. figured i'd come here to try and get some more inspiration for another project i wanted to work on. " responding with a quick shrug of her shoulders. " it's like ... sometimes i want to create things but i like to feel inspired first. otherwise i'm not quite sure how to translate the image i've got in my head onto the canvas. "
[ … ] ❀ you’re not from around here , are you? i figured because you totally just missed { SIGNE HOLSTRÖM } walking by. don’t tell me you don’t know who { SHE } is ? they kind of look like { HAVANA ROSE LIU } and i could be wrong but i think that they might be { 24 } years old right now. they’ve been living in palmview for the last { 10 }. and i don’t know if anyone has ever told them this before but they kind of remind me of { SPENCER HASTINGS } from { PRETTY LITTLE LIARS }. if you stick around the town long enough you might catch them in action working at { PALMVIEW FASHION HOUSE } as a { STYLIST }. you see this town isn’t really that big of a place, some folks like to call them the { THE MIRAGE } 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 { AVOIDANT } at times. i wouldn’t take it too seriously though, from the times i’ve spoken to them they seemed pretty { AMBITIOUS } to me. we see each other all the time since they live in that { 2 BEDROOM } apartment beside me over in { MANGO BAY LOFTS }. i better leave you to it. it was nice meeting you! { KRYS. 32. SHE/HER. EST. }
name: signe holmström [ pronounced sing-neh ] nickname(s): tba. age: twenty4 birthday: 06 october 2000 gender/pronouns: cis woman + she/her sexuality: pansexual occupation: stylist at palmview fashion house residence: mango bay lofts #4B time in palmview: ten years
signe is the only child of søren and sigrid holmström, a warmhearted doctor and reserved art history professor, respectively. she was born in malmö, sweden, but has been living in palmview for the last ten years ( since she was fourteen ). she is a soft-spoken perfectionist with a deep love for fashion and a dream of one day becoming a designer. while she's always surrounded by an abundance of love, she tends to have doubts about whether or not she actually deserves to be where she is. she strives to be the ideal daughter, not because of any expectations her parents have placed on her, but simply because she understands how much they've sacrificed for her and she wants those sacrifices to have been worth it. she's just moved out of her parents home and is figuring out what it means to be on her own.
full bio here.
🧵 childhood best friend - someone who has known signe since she arrived in palmview and has been by her side ever since 🧵 professional rivals 🧵 neighbors 🧵 roommate 🧵 former crushes/flings/exes 🧵 current crushes 🧵 college friends 🧵 work friends/coworkers 🧵 muse - a close friend (or rival!) who pushes signe to be bolder, weirder, and more herself creatively. 🧵 the mirror - someone who is also dealing with a legacy they're trying to live up to. they see a lot of similarities in each other and bond because of that. 🧵 the mentor - a senior person in fashion who takes signe under their wing
⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ open ( 2/6 ) ⇢ ✨ TAGGING ﹕celine + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ ✨ LOCATION ﹕ retro roots.
“This store is either a fever dream or a trap,” Celine muttered under her breath, eyeing a hot pink rotary phone like it might bite her. “I swear my aunt had one just like this, just covered in cigarette ash.” She picked up a pair of gold-framed, star-shaped sunglasses and ran a finger long the edge. She caught motion in her peripheral vision and glanced up, raising an eyebrow with faux gravitas. “Hey, these scream ‘divorced and dangerous,’ right? Asking for a friend." Celine's smirk widened, taking in her fellow shopper before tilting her head. There was something about the otherworldly, out of time feel of the store that had her lowering her usual guard, just a little. “What's your poison? Lava lamps? VHS tapes? …Velvet couches with suspicious stains?”
Her shoulders lifted in quiet laughter, amused by the other’s confession. “Well, personally, I think art’s meant to be felt more than understood,” she offered gently. “But I know others have very strong opinions on the matter.” Her voice was all but a whisper, glancing around making sure she didn’t make the same mistake of offending one of the artists. Signe followed the stranger’s gaze, glancing back to see that it didn’t resonate with her either. “Nothing with this one either?” Signe wasn’t the kind to make someone feel bad for ‘not getting it’ so she decided to steer the conversation in a new direction. “Do you live nearby? I just moved into the neighborhood not too long ago, and I decided to go exploring.” After a brief pause, she added with a hesitant smile. “I’m Signe, by the way.”
Marcela didn't frequently spend her free time admiring the art at the Mango Bay Art District, but she had some time to kill after her shift at Retro Roots and decided to check out what local artists had put up recently since she was in the area. If nothing else, this was a step in the right direction towards her goal of being at least a little more responsible with her time this year. What trouble could she really land herself in here?
She was mindlessly wandering around, not spending too much time with any one piece of art when a voice attracted her attention. "Oh no, you're fine. I'm really walking around more than anything." She glanced around for anyone who looked like the stereotypical, pretentious artist types she imagined were responsible for the artwork here. "Between you and me, I think most of this lost on me. I'm pretty sure I accidentally insulted one of the artists the last time I was here by not seeing their vision or something." As she spoke, she shifted a little to peer around the other just to see if she was missing out on something by not viewing this particular piece. Sure enough, though, it didn't really stand out to her.
Celine lifted a brow at the boy, turning the star-shaped sunglasses in her hands like she was debating if his description was accurate or not. "Well, you're not wrong," she smirked, "I probably could swipe my ex's car — though I don't think he would be too upset, which probably kills some of the drama." She popped the glasses onto her face with a flourish, the frames clashing delightfully with the red of her outfit. "For the record, I didn't watch Heathers—I lived it." Celine gave him a once-over that was filled with amusement. He barely looked old enough to know what a VHS tape even was. "You look like the kind of boy who grew up rewinding Elvira clips on Youtube and never recovered." The woman stepped around him, her eyes scanning over the treasure trove of nostalgia that was Retro Roots. There was more than one item that seemed it could come to life, if it wasn't already. "Sentient? Kid, if something in here starts whispering in Latin, I'm leaving you to get possessed while I call your emergency contact." She glanced over her shoulder, and shot him a wink over the rim of the sunglasses.
⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ open ( 0/6 ) ⇢ ✨ TAGGING ﹕celine + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ ✨ LOCATION ﹕ retro roots.
“This store is either a fever dream or a trap,” Celine muttered under her breath, eyeing a hot pink rotary phone like it might bite her. “I swear my aunt had one just like this, just covered in cigarette ash.” She picked up a pair of gold-framed, star-shaped sunglasses and ran a finger long the edge. She caught motion in her peripheral vision and glanced up, raising an eyebrow with faux gravitas. “Hey, these scream ‘divorced and dangerous,’ right? Asking for a friend." Celine's smirk widened, taking in her fellow shopper before tilting her head. There was something about the otherworldly, out of time feel of the store that had her lowering her usual guard, just a little. “What's your poison? Lava lamps? VHS tapes? …Velvet couches with suspicious stains?”
Celine lifted a hand to cover the abrupt laugh escaped her lips at the girl's disgusted statement. She slipped the star-shaped glasses onto her face and smirked at the girl. "So, you are either very lost or doing a character study for a role," she said, giving the girl a once-over. There was no judgement in her tone, just mild curiosity and wry amusement. She let the girl's dramatic revulsion hang there for a moment between them before continuing. "I mean, if the couches are haunted and the air smells like regret, you made it about ten steps farther than I would expect." Celine continued browsing through the odd collection of knick knacks on display, glancing over her shoulder. "Seriously though, what dragged you in here? You look like you're waiting for a tetanus shot from just standing there."
magnolia had never stepped inside a secondhand store in her entire life – until today. except, the fact that it was a secondhand store had completely slipped her mind until she'd spotted a pair of fake miu miu sunglasses attempting to pass off as the real ones. it should have been more obvious – retro roots, come on ! she could not bring herself to touch anything inside the store, fearing the smell of expired perfume and bad aura would cling onto her and follow her home. a voice nearby broke the unsettling silence and magnolia turned to spot the source, eyeing her carefully as if buying herself some time to filter out her true thoughts. she had a habit of letting her, sometimes unwarranted, opinions slip – no matter how harsh. one thing she could not filter out were her reactions as she continued to stare with a look of repulsion. “they scream ‘post-divorce meltdown’ but to each their own ?” oh, how she absolutely hated how high-pitched her voice got at the end of that sentence. “in the literal sense of the word, this is it – my very own personal nightmare. this place feels like cycling through your friend's exes or an unaired episode of hoarders. let's not even get started on velvet couches.”
⇢ ✨ STATUS ﹕ closed. ⇢ ✨ TAGGING ﹕celine + jack !! (@anchorsfm ) ⇢ ✨ LOCATION ﹕outside of jack's apartment.
Celine wiped at a smudge on her daughter's cheek, even though Rosie had made it crystal clear she was not trying to impress anyone. Eight going on eighteen, apparently. She knocked on Jack's door twice, signaling their arrival and the second the front door opened, Rosie had barreled past both of them shouting a dramatic, "Hi Dad, bye Mom!" and disappeared down the hallway towards her bedroom. Celine blinked after her. "Aaand she's gone," she muttered, still holding the weekend overnight bag in her hands. She handed the bag off to Jack, and then stuck her hands in the back pocket of her jeans. "Okay, I know she just got here," she begin, lingering in the doorway instead of heading back to her car, "but, there's something I wanted to talk to you about. It's not bad," she added quickly, immediately seeing the familiar flicker of concern in his eyes. "Just... something you should know." Her voice dropped a little, quieter and more careful, to make sure Rosie didn't overhear. "She asked me last night if she could start going by Rose instead of Rosie. She was so serious about it too. Said Rosie is for little kids and she's basically nine now, so...you know." Celine gave a small, fond eye roll at that and her small smile was tinged with a melancholy that she was certain Jack would recognize. "I said of course. But I think it's a phase. It might not be, but it just felt like one of those things where she might only say something to one of us hoping we'd be the messenger." Her gaze lingered on him for a moment. It had been a year since everything changed. A quiet divorce, no scandals, just ... truth. A truth Jack hadn't been ready to say out loud, and one Celine had tried her best to hold with grace.
⇢ 🌸 STATUS ﹕ open ⇢ 🌸 TAGGING ﹕signe + utp !! ( @palmviewstarters ) ⇢ 🌸 DETAILS ﹕ signe explores the MANGO BAY ART DISTRICT.
Signe had visited the Mango Bay Art District before, but somehow, it was different when she was now a resident of the neighborhood. The colorful murals along the walls and alleyways seemed particularly vibrant all of a sudden. The Coastal Creations Gallery had its doors open, and like a moth to flame, Signe found herself pulled in. Music was drifting in from somewhere and local artists were mingling beside their pieces. She hovered over one canvas that reminded her of something her mother might've admired in an old museum catalog. Her fingers itched with a need to recreate it, to break its mold and reshape it, but she tampered down the urge. Signe had always been impulsive when it came to her art, and she'd learn in college that she did not allow herself enough time to experience what inspired her before she tried to recreate the feeling. Lost in her thoughts, Signe didn't notice someone approaching until they were right over her shoulder. "Oh!" she blinked in surprise. "I'm sorry, am I blocking your view?"
resoluxe \ˈre-zə-ˌluks\ 1. the quality of resolving a challenge or decision with sophistication, elegance, and luxury.
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