🌦 « lili reinhart. cis woman. she/her. 26. » was that DAISY CARSON walking through the doors of amorelux ? i heard they just moved in to apartment 601 from HELEN, GEORGIA and work as a biochemist. they seem hardworking & bright but don’t get on their bad side ! they can be temperamental & judgmental which makes sense since they’re a PISCES. you know they’re home when you see a flash of soft golden curls tinted with pink falling down the back of her head , bright blue eyes that are ever trusting , a hint of rose and ivy , pink-nude lipstick stains on satin pillow cases , and a gentle smile with her full attention on anyone who asks for it.
@amoreluxintro
there’s something to be said of the middle child of a prevalent family in helen, georgia (mayor’s family, no big deal); with all eyes on her, since her birth. the youngest child is always fawned over, the eldest child tends to move out as fast as they can, and the middle child? well, the story goes to say that their role is being forgotten. so you work your hardest to not be forgotten.
it goes like this:
your mother can either run the town, or raise you, and she opts for the former - which means you’re stuck raising your younger brother, and your eldest brother is so far gone out of town, that people barely remember he exists. you spend your childhood picking up the cello, falling in love with the ocean, telling your little brother to please stop eating leggos (he’s like 5 at this point!), you discover throwing yourself into work and realize maybe, just maybe, you can do what you love.
elementary school is fine. easy, even; but it’s an average school full of average teachers and even more average students, so it’s not a hard standard to beat. you can spend 10 minutes studying for the spelling bee and you pass with flying colors. it’s easy. it’s school. it comes naturally to you. it’s easy to make friends, people flock to you, and you smile easily. so many faces come and go, cooing over a pretty girl with blonde hair and blue eyes that it’s easy to ignore that your mother is never really actually there.
your father tries, but he’s drunk most of the time, not able to handle your mother being more successful than him; but that’s his story and tragedy to tell. you try not to let it affect you. in fact, you don’t even notice how much he’s drinking until you reach middle school.
middle school is awkward. braces come into play and those breakouts on your face actually do you some good (your mother notices how bad you look in family photos - one trip to a dermatologist in the nearest city, though, and you never look better - and that’s the most attention you really get from your mom until you hit your teen years). you’re showered in bright colors and fruity perfume and oh god, the low rise jeans were in during those days, weren’t they? you’re also really good at the cello. like, enough that your music teacher tells your mom to sign you up for actual lessons, and she does, and suddenly you’re spending most of your time after school playing the cello and taking care of your brother. it’s a wonder you’re not socially inept; but your best friend makes you giggle and you laugh at boys and your teachers never let you and your best friend sit next to each other in class.
you have your teenage dirtbag phase (of course you have a dirtbag phase, how else is your mother going to notice you if not on the verge of a public breakdown?). but you learned from your father how to hide in plain sight; so while you are definitely sneaking out, smoking joints on the roof, drinking until 3am and stumbling home, you’re always picture perfect for the press. you thought that at this point you’d have style; but really you just look like a copy and paste of your mother, which makes you act out even more. you use daddy’s credit card to buy a giant aquarium the length of your bedroom wall. you max it out on expensive foreign liquors. you’re dating a different person every week (most of them have tattoos and piercings). but you’re grades are spectacular, you have a full ride to harvard, and yeah - you lost your childhood best friend but she kinda sucked anyways, didn’t she?
your father cheats on your mother the summer before you start college; which is weird, since your mother’s love for him literally took him out of an abusive household and gave him kids and shit, but apparently that’s not enough (because love can just never be enough), and your mother is no longer mayor and it just looks really bad. you’re so psyched to be leaving town for college.
college is, like how it is for most, where you bloom. you still party, but your life? is a little more balanced. you get a job at the campus café, meet your friends for life in fellow employees, minor in music with your major in biochemistry, and you find a work-school-life balance that actually does work. you’re thriving. you’re studying and working and partying and playing music and everything is perfect. no one back home really contacts you except your little brother and you still come home for the holidays, but really, it’s more like a chore than anything else. you think you meet the love of your life and honestly, it feels like a taylor swift song, and you’re engaged out of graduating college. it should be good. you should have your life in order. it’s on track.
part of it is in order.
it seems the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree, because when you start working, you get into it. you’re engaged for 4 years. it’s partially your fault that you’re spending all the time working than focusing on your fiancé, but he’s trying to become a surgeon so you think you’re both working hard and time apart is normal, right? maybe it is, but his reaction is to cheat on you, so. like mother, like daughter.
so you do what most would do. you move halfway across the country. seattle’s nice, gorgeous, and there’s this little apartment complex that doesn’t make you want to barf - so you start anew. figure it’s about time.
but ... that pink from your teenaged years make a comeback, and you get a few piercings on your ears and some delicate tattoos. another era for finding yourself (even if you spend a lot of your time working on a boat). it’s fun. it’s you.
PERSONALITY & INC.
you’re a girl’s girl. you listen to both taylor and harry but if you had to choose, it’d always be taylor. things come easy to you and you don’t brag about it. you smile at babies. you romanticize your life, carry around tote bags, wear funky patterns, smell like rose & ivy, always attend bath and bodyworks candle sales, drink wine in your empty bathtub, toss and turn before falling asleep, and there’s always a new book your nose is in. you love traveling to europe when you have the chance. sometimes when you’re working on the boat, you lean over the edge and just taking the ocean and all it has to offer. you come from a small town, but the city is your home. you feel alone in a crowded room. you’re always smiling, people approaching, wanting to get to know you; and you let them, but never in too far. sometimes you spend nights just playing your cello and your neighbors probably hate it, but it’s the only thing that can calm you down on those really bad nights. you love the smell of freshly cut grass, dark rainstorms, and britney spears playing quietly in the background. sometimes you dance alone in your kitchen when everyone’s asleep. you still go out and stumble home at 3am, ready for work at 6am. you’re always doing something, because if you stop, everything else might catch up with you.
