* rathaway.

— ✧ 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