Steve and Eddie go through the whole adoption process in 1996, despite how difficult it was to find somewhere willing to help them at all and despite their conflicted feelings on adoption.
The way they saw it though, providing a loving home for a child who needed one was better than the alternative. Eddie had enough experience with temporary foster homes to know stability was better than constant moving and questionable foster parents.
They get a foster placement almost immediately, a six year old girl named Amelia. She’s quiet, but not in a way that worries them. She’s very focused, and enjoys going to school more than any regular children’s hobbies. Neither of them know what to do with that other than keep encouraging it.
She stays for months, months turn into a year, and the agency finally gives them the go ahead to complete the adoption process.
But they don’t do anything without talking to Amelia.
She’s happy there, her therapist signs off on it immediately and explains that Amelia has shown more personality development and less signs of trauma with them than she had even living at home. Not to mention they actually brought her to appointments, unlike her previous guardians.
To celebrate, they throw a party with all their friends and family and tell Amelia she can invite anyone from school she wants. She invites everyone.
Turns out their daughter is a social butterfly and is friends with everyone.
At the party, Eddie pulls out his guitar, plays a bunch of popular kid-friendly songs after a very scathing look from Steve as a reminder to behave.
Amelia walks over to him after a few songs, on a sugar high like he’d never seen on her before, and asks to play the guitar.
He’s hesitant, but not because he’s still protective of his guitars, more because he doesn’t want her to embarrass herself in front of her friends. Kids are cruel, even and especially at seven, and the last thing he wants is this to be the thing that kids talk about for the next ten years.
She sits on the couch and holds it, arranging her fingers…correctly. Eddie watches.
Steve is watching from across the room.
She starts strumming, very quietly at first, not as confident as she’d been a moment ago. And then she starts really playing.
It’s one of the songs Eddie wrote. He played it for the last four months nonstop as he perfected it, and she’d apparently been watching.
Eddie’s jaw is on the floor and he quickly looks over to Steve, who has a similar look of surprise on his face.
He doesn’t interrupt her. She makes it through the entire song.
She looks up.
“When did you learn to play guitar?” Eddie asks.
“When I was watching you.”
“But have you played before tonight?”
Amelia shook her head, looking down. “Didn’t wanna touch it without asking.”
Eddie pulls the guitar from her hands and sets it aside, then pulls her into his lap and hugs her. Steve sits down on the couch next to them, hand on her back.
“You can always ask, sweetie. And if you’re this interested and this natural, we can buy you your own guitar if you want. I didn’t think you were interested in playing.”
“I wanna be like you,” Amelia admitted against his shoulder.
Eddie was done for. He looked at Steve, half-panicked, trying not to cry in front of these people, but Steve wasn’t faring any better.
“Then we can go get you a guitar tomorrow. You can get your own picks, too. They might even have purple ones.”
“Can I have red? Like yours?”
“Of course, sweetie.”
It only took them two days after that to realize she could play by ear, just like Eddie.
And then it only took another day after that to realize she had taught herself to read music too.
They spent hours and hours every week playing together while Steve cooked dinner or checked her homework or just watched them.
When Eddie’s band decided to record another album and go on tour when Amelia was 12, Eddie insisted that she get to be on it.
She ended up helping write one of their songs, played on the track on the album, and with a lot of work, convinced Steve to let them homeschool her for the entire 8 months they’d be on tour so she could perform on stage with her dad.
“Can’t believe she’s not even genetically yours. Are you sure you didn’t have an affair?” Steve asked the night before they were leaving for Europe.
“When would I have had an affair? I came back to the tour bus or hotel with you every single night,” Eddie kissed him softly. “She’s amazing, huh?”
“She is. What happens when she wants to be a full blown rockstar like her dad too?”
“Then we make sure she’s protected and has good people around her like I have. She could be a rockstar easily. She’s got the talent and the presence,” Eddie smiled. “And she’s got me to make sure no one takes advantage of her. But she’s only 12. We’ve got time to worry about that later.”
“You’re bringing her onstage every single night all over the world for the next eight months, baby. I think later is now.”
Eddie sighed. “She’s gonna blow them all away. I’m proud of her. Let’s focus on that for now.”
And she did blow everyone away. The fans and the media had nothing but good things to say, and Steve didn’t have to go into overprotective mom mode at all until she was 15 and signing a record deal of her own.
But between Eddie and him, the entire industry knew better than to fuck with her or them.
They made rules, of course. School still came first, she still had required family events to be at, she still had regular friends at home. She wasn’t allowed at any parties, not even the events for award ceremonies.
But she didn’t really need those rules. She had no interest in parties or abandoning her friends or family, and she was a straight A student who still had hopes of getting into Brown for Journalism like her Aunt Nancy. She had a passion for music and wanted to share it, but not at the cost of the rest of her life.
And Eddie and Steve did everything they could to make sure she got to have everything. That’s what they’d promised her from day one.
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what is considered "beautiful" by society is inevitably sexist, racist, ableist, classist, transphobic, and bigoted. it targets and attacks any perceived difference, and it particularly villainizes women of color while co-opting aesthetics; as if features and cultural norms can be worn as accessories.
and the scary thing! you can see all of these things, know them to be true logically, and also know that you are treated better if you are perceived as beautiful. if you have ever been treated as "ugly", you know exactly how much society reviles you if you don't manage to scamper along and perform to their rules.
and how are you supposed to balance that? do you want a nose job to fix your broken nose, or have you just recently been seeing videos about how many people look better after nose jobs. do you want to lose weight to feel good, or is it that when you lose weight people treat you better. do you want to wear this outfit, or is it just the thing that's least likely to get you harassed. do you want to get lip injections for your reasons or is your whole reason that you don't feel beautiful unless you get those lip injections?
and the definitions shift. the goals get more specific. in the way that you only become aware of your tongue when someone mentions it; parts of your body are introduced as problems. i had never heard the term "hip dip" until about a year ago - and it was in the context of how to get rid of this. i'm 30, i know this shit is invented, and yet! i still find that strange voice saying but do you think someone is going to notice?
how the fuck am i supposed to say "this is my genuine choice i am making for my body" when i also know that years of my life have been spent socializing me to accept this as my inevitable fate? how do i know i'm actually doing this out of love for my body - or am i doing it for how i want others to see me, which will be lovely enough to feel loved? how am i supposed to recover when my unhealthy habits are seen as self-discipline but if i relax i'm openly mocked for "letting time win"? how the fuck am i supposed to say "i'm doing it for me" when i'm also very aware that i'm doing it to stop myself from being teased or demeaned? is it my choice if the other option is being bullied?
we are living in a hostage negotiation - either consent to the demands or spend the rest of your life being treated like you're a despicable person.
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price x insane!reader? idk if insane's the best word BUT a male reader who kills enemies with his own bare hands, a reader who always ALWAYS has a little smirk on his face, who'll put everyone's (mostly and especially his) lives at risk if that means that price is getting out of a field safe, doesn't matter what he has to do, his man is going home in one piece.
overall just a crazy man with too much sass and love for his husband
Why call Reader insane, anon? (Still love you though.) Reader's not insane, he's protective. Extremely protective, but that's neither here nor there.
John Price is used to doing anything to protect other people, used to killing whoever has to for the greater good. But he is never downright cruel, which makes everyone be shocked that he's married to you.
You, who only cares about keeping John safe. You, who bares his blood-stained teeth at anyone who even looks at your husband the wrong way. They should fear you, you've killed men with your bare hands when they've tried to hurt John.
You and John couldn't be more opposites even if you tried. He was selfless, you were selfish. He was careful, you were reckless. He was calm, you were a storm of unbridled rage. He was everything good, and you were everything cruel.
At least, that's what everyone thought. John saw the good in you, hence why he married you. He saw the man beneath the facade of a monster. A man who was only driven by your need to keep John safe. No matter what everyone said, you weren't driven by bloodlust, and how could he fault you for being so protective?
You made sure he came out of battle unscathed, even at your own detriment. You sacrificed others to keep him safe, sure, but you also sacrificed yourself. You dove in front of knives and bullets for him, to make sure he was going back to base in one piece. He didn't exactly like it, since you were his husband, but he couldn't stop you.
You had to protect him. You just had to, he was everything you needed. And you'd die before letting him get even a paper cut.
Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)
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