little children whirling, laughing. they don't know they should be scared. give me that hope, give me time to love. high above the glowing city planes make circles humming madly. please keep me safe, give me time to love. all I can do, all I can say is keep you safely in my arms and close your ears to not hear harm, i'll sing to you.
He had always heard of speculations and rumors about how mothers would accuse him of being the father of their child. It came with being rich, everyone wanted a try at the money he had if they were greedy and thought they could actually pull it off. However most times his lawyers took care of that without him even seeing the mother in question, let alone the kid. He had to admit, this was the first time a person came up too him and said they may be their child. Sipping on the coffee and debating for a moment, he decided not to slam the door on the young woman or tell her to go before he called the police. Her bluntness was refreshing to be honest, and he felt incline to see about this further himself.
“And if I’m not?” He asked, taking another sip of his coffee and leaning on the door frame, his body taking up so much space that it would block almost anyone from seeing inside.
unlike most lifetime movies where similar scenes took place, not a lot hinged on greta discovering wether or not the man in front of her was her biological father. she was just going on a whim, impulsively investigating something she’d wondered about for years. but if it turns out it was some other rich dude in gotham who impregnated her mom, it’s no big deal. so she shrugs, like it’s nothing. ❝ then you’re not. i’m not looking for money or anything, ❞ she explains, the same deadpan expression on her face. ❝ i’m just curious. ❞ she reached inside her jacket, pulled out the picture of her mother she’d been carrying around and handed it to him. ❝ that’s my mom. her name was suzu. if you think she looks familiar, there’s a chance you might be my dad. if not, i can just go back home, i really like. don’t care that much if i’m honest. ❞
Call him sentimental, but one of the few things Bran lugged with him every move, without fail, was his Mum’s old record player. Took most of the records, too, except ones that skipped or otherwise weren’t worth keeping. Usually, he browsed unbothered, so he was surprised when someone approached him.
Even moreso when they insulted his album choice, specifically Flogging Molly.
“Did ye – did ye jus’ insult Floggin’ Molly? The fuck, mate?” He asks, incredulous.
greta had to pause, close her eyes as to conceal the slight eyeroll, and think about what she was going to say next. she had the bad habit of bluntly stating her opinion ( or, in her eyes, the truth ), and then having to explain herself in order to spare the other person’s feelings. ❝ it’s not bad, you can untwist your panties, ❞ she explained, approaching the other man and reaching into the same bin. ❝ flogging molly’s never but out a bad album, but speed of darkness is just garbo compared to, say, drunken lullabies, ❞ she said, pulling out the record she spoke of.
“I was actually going to give it to my brother as a gag gift for Christmas,” Damian replied, putting the record down. “Rick Astley really isn’t that bad, and besides, if nothing else, at least I will have gone the extra mile to rick roll someone for the first time since i was a teenager.”
❝ oh dude, that’s so valid, ❞ she responded, immediately changing her tone from one of disapproval to one of admiration. ❝ he’s pretty bad though. just a one-hit-wonder who became a meme. he’s still releasing music, surprisingly, and it’s pretty terrible, ❞ she said with a laugh. ❝ i respect how far you’re willing to go for a rick roll, though. you should buy another record and then just switch out the sleeves. make it a true rick roll. ❞
❝ you’re not gonna buy that, are you ? ❞ she asks, face stoic aside from one raised, judgmental eyebrow. she’s not one to meddle in people’s business. in this record store, however. things were different. ❝ it’s total garbage. don’t waste your money. ❞
leaving paragon after graduation hadn’t been a tough choice. it came with some tough sacrifices, but greta had been ready to get out of there the moment timid sunflowers got an offer to tour the us. the band getting bigger meant more things were falling to the wayside. it meant that she had to leave nate behind. her best friend, roommate, bandmate. she felt like she was leaving a part of her at paragon, because she never expected the band to move on without him, but they had to. years later, things were different. they hurt each other in the past, but there was still love. ❝ that’s my fucking shirt. ❞ she said, head snapping up when he walked in the room, recognizing the particular floral pattern like it was an old friend. ❝ i’ve been looking for it for like two years, give it back. ❞ [ @attitudeprcblems ]
it was a little overwhelming, she had to admit. to come back, after traveling across the country. after living in los angeles, after touring with the band. returning to this town had her searching for a moment of solitude, so she set out, bass in hand, to the music rooms. all she wanted was a few hours to jam out, but was surprised to find someone else already having their own little party. she could’ve walked away, found some other room for herself, but she couldn’t walk away from pink floyd. the siren walked in unnoticed, set her bass down on the floor, and leaned back against the wall. ❝ you have good tase, ❞ she finally spoke out, trying to get the other person’s attention [ @shatteredaurora ]
when she made the choice to come back to paragon, she knew she’d be running into her husband wyatt. they didn’t marry for love, not even for convenience. they were just two idiots who couldn’t refuse a bet. ❝ honey, i’m home, ❞ she greeted him, spotting him in the courtyard. cocky grin, arms stretched out at her sides. she and wyatt were the last people who should’ve ever gotten married, and yet, here they were. ❝ miss me ? ❞ [ @ofgardner ]
greta never had any siblings, until piper came along. it was a strange adjustment, and greta wasn’t good with change. it was clear the two girls were set in her ways and were surrounded by strong, almost impenetrable walls they had built up throughout the years. however, once those walls had been torn down, there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other. ❝ hey pipes. ❞ her door was always open for piper. she preferred being alone ( it was why, when she got back from touring, she set down a good amount of money to rent her own place at paragon ), but she never minded piper’s presence. ❝ you hungry ? ❞ [ @mutanthacker ]
after class was over, it was greta’s responsibility to restore the music room to its usual state; chairs back up against the wall, music stands folded and stored, piano lid carefully closed over the keys. she enjoyed the moment of solace, a few minutes of her day where she could pop her headphones in her ears, spin whatever album was her favorite that day, and clean up after the students. just as she was finishing up, she noticed she had company in the form of haley lance-queen, one of the few people who understood her passion for music, and, for some time, her sorta sister-in-law. she flashed a smile, a rare break from her stoic expression, and pulled out a single headphone. ❝ you gotta class here now ? ❞ [ @flightlessbvrd ]
Going to the door, he didn’t know what he expected. On the monitors for the security cameras all he saw was a young woman come up to the door. Thinking this was one of his kids many friends, Bruce made sure to put on the coffee maker, since he had just grabbed the last cup of it, and made a note that takeout may be needed tonight. When he opened the door he was met with something that felt like recollection, as if he saw that face once before a long time ago. It was familiar yet not. “Yes I am, are you one of my childerns friends from the school?” He asked kindly, putting on the Brucie voice just in case they didn’t know who he was.
his face was familiar, not because she’d seen it in person, as this was the first time he was ever in front of her. she’d seen it in pictures, newspapers, on tv — so she knew what to expect when he opened his door for her. now that there was only a few feet between them, she scanned his face for trances of her own, for any kind of hint as to whether or not he was her father, but came up empty handed. she was still too much like her mother to see anything of herself in anyone else. ❝ no, i don’t really know your kids. ❞ she knew of them, sure. some of them. couldn’t date nate lance-queen without meeting roy and jason at least once. not one to beat around the bush, she cut right to it. ❝ my name’s greta rathaway, and i think you might be my father. ❞
and so, she was back at paragon. after almost three years of practically living in a van, touring with the sunflowers, she was back. she hadn’t planned on it, but then again, when did she really plan anything ? she hadn’t planned getting married in vegas, nor going back to school, showing up at bruce wayne’s door with some old pictures of her parents in an envelope inside her jacket. an opportunity arose, and she went with it. there were no goals, no course of action, but there she was, ringing the doorbell she had been told belonged to the richest man in gotham, who just happened to be, possibly, maybe, her biological father. she couldn’t know for sure, but hey. her mother claimed her only infidelity had been some rich dude in gotham city. bruce wayne was the richest dude in gotham, and by some twist of fate he was living in the same town. call it a stab in the dark, but she didn’t have anything to lose. she rang, waited, all the while tapping her hand on her thigh to the rhythm of some new melody that had been dancing in her head.
finally, the door swung open. greta cleared her throat; she figured she should use her voice on this occasion, instead of using her hands ro carry the message. ❝ you’re bruce wayne, right ? ❞ [ @bruceowayne ]
( KIKO MIZUHARA, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER ) — ✧ THAT LOOKS LIKE GRETA RATHAWAY! THEY’RE THE TWENTY THREE YEAR OLD ADOPTED DAUGHTER OF HARTLEY RATHAWAY / BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER OF BRUCE WAYNE. [ THEY ARE ALSO A MUSIC TA AT PARAGON. ] I HEAR THEY’RE DEDICATED & CLEVER, BUT TEND TO BE COCKY & CONFRONTATIONAL. HER FILE SAYS THAT HER POWER IS SIREN SONG.
tw: drunk driving, car accident, death.
— ✧ HISTORY
your first memory is her laughter. years later it still rings in your head, it resounds against the walls of your chest. it’s still in you. the sound of her voice as she cradled you, sang with your head against her chest. you still don’t understand the language, but the soft hums and vibrations tell you that you are oh, so wanted. oh, so loved.
your parents are DAVID and SUZU. your parents are young and in love. your parents are broke. your parents pack their van with a guitar, a keyboard, and as many songs as they can carry. they travel across the country, playing for anyone who will LISTEN. paying for food with the dollars and coins people toss in your dad’s guitar case.
your mother’s VOICE sounds exactly like your own. it’s soft, and gentle, and HYPNOTIC, capable of making anyone who listens fall to their knees. when you’re older, you learn you have this power too.
somewhere along the way ( gotham city, to be exact. your mother can pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, ), your mother gets pregnant. you’re not planned, but who cares about plans anyway ?
your parents end up in SAN FRANCISCO, where you are born. your dad ( who isn’t your dad, not biologically ) thinks you’re his, and your mom doesn’t tell him otherwise. the truth is, she’s not sure, not for a long time.
you are born from their music. you sprout from the fingertips that caress the piano keys, or strum the guitar. you were always meant to make music. to BE music.
you never knew silence. there was always MUSIC, always beautiful harmonies filling the air and flooding your lungs. the beatles, the stones, hendrix, joplin, dylan, bowie. you don’t listen to the radio. you only know your father’s records, and the strum of his guitar. your mother’s fingers on the piano keys. she doesn’t sing at home, because she can’t. she still sings to you, sometimes. your ears aren’t like everyone else’s, you can LISTEN.
you turn TEN years old and you hold a guitar for the first time. he teaches you his favorite songs, which are also yours. you don’t have a lot to talk about, but you have THIS. this is the ONE thing you can share with your father, and you take to it like a duck to water. you were B O R N from music, like athena from zeus’ head. you were ALWAYS meant for this.
school lets out, and you run to the music store. you make music for the people, take advantage of the instruments on display. you learn how to play on borrowed keys and strings. there isn’t a MOMENT when you’re not playing, or listening, or making music. at school, you write, at home, you practice. this is ALL you know.
the first time you hold a BASS guitar in your hands you’re FOURTEEN. you feel as if part of your body has been missing until this very moment. it’s a tan-colored stratocaster, and it feels like coming HOME.
you start your own band with some kids from school. you start singing and realize your voice is exactly the same as your mothers. you knew they sounded similar, but it’s at this moment that you learn that they hold the same POWER. the same curse. you stop singing. your voice becomes smaller and smaller, in fear of what it can do. you learn to speak with your HANDS, and get your message across in other ways. you’re completely silent, except for your hands.
the summer after you turn SIXTEEN, you notice your parents fighting more and more. your mother’s secret is out. you don’t know how, but it doesn’t matter. you LISTEN to their screaming and learn that your father is some rich guy she met in new jersey. they never tell you, but now you know.
you’re in the car with your parents, on you way to a gig. they don’t SPEAK very much, and you can feel the distance growing every day. they still drive you to play with your band. you can smell the ALCOHOL on your father’s breath. it’s become as common as the smell of coffee in the morning. your mother doesn’t care enough to say anything.
it happens in a fraction of a second.
you see the HEADLIGHTS as another car is driving in your direction. there’s a collision, and only you survive. you wake up in the hospital and learn your mother and father have already taken their last breaths.
you’re put into the SYSTEM, and you move from house to house, never sticking around for too long, because you’re just too weird, too quiet, and your music is always too LOUD.
eventually, you run away. take a page from your parents’ book and become a street MUSICIAN. you even use your dad’s case to collect. you hitchhike across the country, playing for anyone who’ll listen. sometimes, you SING. but only when you need to.
somewhere along the way, he finds you. he says his name is HARTLEY, and he’s impressed with your skills. he adopts you in and gives you his name. you already have two FATHERS, so what’s a third ?
reluctantly, you finish school. when you turn EIGHTEEN, you move to a little town called PARAGON, study music at their school. there’s a bunch of kids just like you.
— ✧ PERSONALITY
ZODIAC SIGN: aries-taurus cusp ( april 20th )
PERSONALITY TYPE: estp – the entrepreneur
ENNEAGRAM: type 8 – the challenger
TEMPERAMENT: melancholic
HOGWARTS HOUSE: gryffindor
MORAL ALIGNMENT: true neutral
PRIMARY VICE: pride
PRIMARY VIRTUE: diligence
ELEMENT: earth
hello kids this is greta aka gee, my sad, awkward, fighty gorl.
she’s kinda quiet and reserved. she has a one-track mind. wants to be the best bassist she can be. her goal is to start a band and takeover the world. that’s pretty much all there is to her.
maybe not take over the world, but just. make great music and make people listen to it.
she lives and breathes music. it’s what she grew up on, it’s the only thing she knows. it’s the only thing she really cares about. doesn’t really understand people who aren’t as passionate about music as she is. can be a little closed-minded when it comes to this. she honestly just doesn’t do anything that isn’t music-related. definitely needs to learn how to relax and get a life.
she’s pretty great at what she does and she knows it, so she can get cocky sometimes. she’s very proud of the band and what they’ve achieved, and sometimes that can go to her head. but the truth is she has the chops to back it up.
stubborn as a mule. doesn’t trust people easily, so she’s very cautious when meeting new people.
she’s a generally friendly person, but she doesn’t open up easily and plays things close to the vest. she can come off a little cold sometimes, but not rude. just awkward. her communication skills are shit.
she’s a lot more comfortable signing that using her voice, for the obvious reasons. she’ll speak out loud to some people, though.
she’s only comfortable enough to be emotionally open with a few select people. or, of course, through the music she writes.
she can’t back down from a fight. it’s a problem, and she knows it, but she can’t avoid confrontation, she runs headfirst into it, even if she’s in the wrong. mama didn’t raise a quitter, but she did raise a fool.
she’s always listening to music. she’s that – *planet explodes* *removes one earbud* what – meme.
she doesn’t really drink, partly because she’s a control freak, and partly because she’s still spooked by what happened to her parents. she’s not very comfortable around drunk people, unless she’s also a little tipsy. she’ll drink just enough so that the people around her don’t think she’s weird, but she’s always the sober friend at the end of the night. she’s always the designated driver, even if she wasn’t out drinking that night. she’ll get out of bed to drive the drunk children home. she’ll do this without being asked, but she’ll still complain about it the whole car ride.
a bicon™ because i’m a firm believer that straight people don’t exist.
this is another one of my specialty sad girls™ and this is.
— ✧ EXTRAS
THEME SONGS: way it goes – hippo campus | cough syrup – young the giant | intro – the hush sound | drive – pale waves | like a river runs – bleachers
PINTEREST: xx
PLAYLIST: [ always a wip ] xx
— ✧ CONNECTIONS
i’m gonna add some later, and i’ll probably gonna work out a page for these, but in the meantime, i’m literally up for anything !! anything at all !! give me connections for my sad and fighty gorl !! my fave girl !! my best girl !!
baratheonpilled
andulkaphoto
areudirty
blakekathryn
izzy806
