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finntheehumaneater · 5 months

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⭐️Radio Star⭐️ (part four! I think.)

(TW: THE WORDS “F*AGGOT” (AND “D*KE”? Maybe?) USED IN A POSITIVE WAY, and not censored like that in the actual writing)

(Part one) (part five)

Steve was going to die. He was alone, and it was crowded and cold, and he was actually going to fucking die. His head was spinning, and his hands were shaking, and he had been walking around for hours in this stupid fucking corn maze, and he just wanted to sit down—but he couldn’t find Robin. And that was a problem, because Robin kind of shut down when he wasn’t around, and that really wasn’t a good idea when they were in a public space. (He also kind of shut down when she wasn’t around, which he was doing now, but that's besides the point.)

She should have been easy to spot in a crowd—sort-of-tall, skinny, always wearing yellow sweaters or Steve’s t-shirts and jeans—but he couldn’t find her anywhere, and it didn’t help that his eyes were blurring again.

It also didn’t help that people in face-paint and masks kept jumping out at him, screaming and grabbing him. Were they even allowed to do that? Fuck, he really regretted agreeing come here.

He turned a corner and something latched onto his arm, moving out from between the corn, and Steve fell flat on his ass, sitting on a rock—which, first of all, fucking ow—and now he couldn’t breathe, gasping for air, the palms of his hands stinging from where they scraped against the dirt.

“Shit shit shit—hey, hey…” The person dropped to the ground in front of him, and he could hear the small rock pieces shift beneath their knees as they reached over and grabbed his arms to keep him from tipping over onto his back.

Emptiness was rattling around his lungs, devoid of all air as he tried to pull away from the person, but they placed a hand on his chest and he looked up at their face. Their eyes were brown, and they were searching over his face, their eyebrows pressed together. “Hey. It’s okay, it’s okay. Just breathe.”

They had skull face paint on, black over their thin face, their nose, and their eyes—wait painted over their cheeks and forehead, and there was a bit of paint over their few face piercings, and Steve was too busy choking on nothing to care about staring.

He sucked in a breath, but it snagged in his throat half-way through, making him cough and choke again, and then the person was next to him, one hand on his chest and the other around him. “Fuck, it’s okay, it’s okay…just—deep breaths, okay? Slowly.”

Steve felt himself leaning into their touch, and there were a few other people walking around them in the maze, not even looking down. He felt his breath steady a bit, and a woman in a pink sweater froze, looking over at the person next to him. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah.” The person said, their thumb smoothing over the back of Steve’s shirt. Steve just gave a weak nod and tried to keep his eyes open, even though he felt like sobbing.

Once the woman was gone, he looked Steve over again, before sighing. “It’s Steve, right?”

Steve flinched, looking up, albeit a little—no, fuck it, very much—confused. Some of the guy’s frizzy brown hair was falling out of the loose, low bun, and Steve had the urge to reach over and fix it, but he didn’t. He just sobbed quietly in response, hating the fact that he was now crying.

“Oh, hey, it’s okay.” The guy said quietly, helping Steve to his feet after a kid ran past and nearly tripped over his hand—which, upon Steve glancing down, he noticed was bleeding. Not a lot, it was only a scratch, but it was enough to hurt.

Steve let himself be pulled onto his feet slightly and moved over, the person was holding his hand, and it felt wet between them, Steve's blood probably smeared onto his palm. The sleeve of their brown leather jacket was cold from where it occasionally bumped into Steve’s palm.

It was a bit big on him, covered in pins saying things like: Save water, shower with a friend, Ban The Bra! and I was there: STONEWALL RIOTS.

There were others, but they were small and harder to read.

Steve was too busy staring at the big, metal rings on the guy's hands to realize that they were now out of the maze and in the field.

It felt dry, away from all of the people, and he nearly collapsed onto the grass. “Woah there, sweetheart,” the guy muttered, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist as Steve slumped down, his face pressed into the guy's shoulder. He smelled like cigarettes and lavender.

"Sorry," Steve whispered, but made no attempt to move, this poor stranger holding him up. "What's….?” He trailed off, looking up slightly.

“Eddie.” The guy said, helping Steve sit down on the picnic table. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

“Should I?” Steve suddenly felt guilty, his eyebrows pressed together.

Eddie’s face softened as he shook his head, before promptly falling off of the picnic table and onto the grass, a hand over his heart. Steve scrambled over to help him, but his head spun again. Eddie was already on his feet, anyway, picking leaves out of his hair.

His fingers worked at the bun to take it out, and fuck—was it weird that Steve wanted to touch his hair? Yeah. It probably was. “Are you okay?” Steve said quietly, a startled laugh slipping out when Eddie tried to throw one of the leaves at him, but it fell slowly to the ground a few inches away from his black boots.

Eddie grinned and shook his head, putting his hair back up. “I’m never really okay, sweetheart, but thanks for asking.” He unzipped his jacket, shrugging it off and tossing it over to Steve, who nearly missed grabbing it.

“You looked cold.” Eddie explained shortly, shrugging slightly and pulled the very front strands of his hair out of the bun. Fuck. Steve’s face was bright-fucking-red right about now.

“Thanks.” Steve said, slipping the jacket on. It wasn’t as big on him as it was on Eddie, but the end of the sleeves still fell a bit past his palms. The leather there was worn away slightly, like Eddie rubbed at it a lot.

Steve looked up from it and noticed the tattoos on Eddie’s arms as he pulled off the deep-orange flannel that he must have had on underneath the jacket. Why was that also hot? He tied it around his waist—and fuck, Steve remembered him, now. From the coffee shop last week. Two weeks ago?

“Windsor’s?” He said hesitantly, forcing himself to look back up at Eddie’s eyes and not the barbed wire tattoo that wrapped around his left elbow and disappeared under the sleeve of his Van Halen t-shirt.

“There it is, good boy. I knew it’d come to you eventually.” Eddie said, crossing and arm over his chest and tugging at one of the loose curls that framed his face. Steve really wanted him to take his hair down, but he was too busy trying not to show any reaction to Eddie’s comment. He was so fucking forward. “I mean—who could forget this pretty face, hm?”

Steve laughed quietly and stood up. His vision wasn’t blurry anymore—and it hadn’t been super blurry, like it had been at the coffee shop. Windsor’s, it had been called—and he only remembered the name because Robin kept reminding him of it. Fuck—Robin. He was supposed to be looking for her.

He stood up, glancing back at Eddie. “Sorry about that, you just…look so…”

“Different?” Eddie offered, and Steve nodded, looking around. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eddie motion to the skull painted over him.

“Yeah, the face-paint will do that t’ya.” He then paused and said hesitantly. “Steve?”

Steve turned back to him, but he was still looking at the people nearer to the maze and not at Eddie, only humming in acknowledgment.

“Steve. What’s wrong?”

“I—nothing, just looking for Robin.” He muttered, finally looking back at Eddie, who was worrying at his bottom lip, one of his lip piercings clicking as it knocked against his teeth. “Who?” “Oh, uh…like…this tall—“ Steve held his hand pretty low to the ground, which got a laugh out of Eddie. “Kind of blonde hair, but it’s…more brown. And—I think she’s wearing yellow.”

“Wait, is she the lesbian? Who really likes sharks?”

This was enough to stun Steve into silence, and his eyes widened slightly. How the fuck did he know Robin was gay? Also—shit. “She talked about them a lot to you?”

“When you flip a shark upside down, they go into tonic mobility.” Eddie said, shrugging.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Sharks are cool.”

Steve sighed and looked around again, and—there was Robin. Talking to some girl in a red sweater and a pink mini skirt with fishnets and orange-blonde hair. Steve was going to fucking murder her. “Found her.”

“Ah, I see she’s found Chris. I was wondering where she had run off to,” Eddie said, patting Steve on the shoulder, but his hand stayed for a moment too long as he walked past him and nearer the girls. “Glad she’s chatting with someone and not doing what I assumed.”

Steve didn’t ask what he meant by that. “Chris?”

“Chrissy. My roommate.” He said the word…in a weird way, like he didn’t really mean it, and Steve felt his heart sink slightly, his smile that he was already struggling to keep afloat dropping. Eddie glanced over and his cheeks flushed slightly.

“She’s a fag,” he explained quickly. “I’m also a fag. We’re not—I didn’t mean it like that, we’re just friends.”

Steve was a bit startled by his choice of words. He had never heard anyone willingly call themselves a slur in a positive way, but he kept quiet.

“What I meant was,” Eddie continued, sighing. “She doesn’t technically live in my apartment with me. Her parents found out she was a dyke and kicked her out, so she’s been sleeping in the spare bed for the past few months. I don’t mind. I like the company. It gets kind of lonely when all your friends live half-an-hour away and only drive over on the weekends for band practice, Y’know?”

Steve nodded and looked back over at Robin. She looked happy, laughing at something Chrissy had said. Once they got close enough, he could read a pin on Chrissy’s sweater that said, in big black letters: GOOD GIRLS SWALLOW, fight eating disorders!

She looked over at Steve, and Robin finally tore her gaze away from Chrissy, looking relieved. “Oh, thank fuck.” She breathed, tugging Steve into a hug and pressing her face into his shoulder. “I was worried you were off having a panic attack or something. Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Steve muttered, squeezing her gently before letting go and turning back to Eddie. “We should go. Do you need your jacket—?” He said quietly, already taking it off to hand it back to him, but Eddie stopped him and pulled it back onto his shoulders, smoothing over the sleeves and smiling.

“Keep it. You can give it back to me next time, yeah?”

“Is that just because you want to see me again?”

“Mhm. Maybe.”

Robin elbowed Steve and mouthed ‘phone number’, to which Steve elbowed her back, nearly missing the small laugh that slipped out of Eddie’s mouth. His cheeks flushed slightly, but he straightened up and turned to face Eddie again. “Could I give you my number? So I can…give you back the jacket.”

Eddie’s eyes widened slightly, and he cleared his throat, nodding. “I have a pen?”

“I don’t have anything to write it on.” Steve muttered as Eddie handed him the pen, looking back at Robin and Chrissy, who shook their heads. “I’ll just—,” he grabbed Eddie’s arm gently and wrote the number on the inside of his wrist. It was just pen ink. It would wash off.

“Just call me whenever, yeah? I can’t promise I’ll always be there to answer, but I’ll try,” he said, smiling as he watched the blush creep up Eddie’s neck.

They said their goodbyes, Chrissy going off to do her own thing while Eddie went back to the maze. Maybe he worked there, too? Or he was just fucking around. Robin and Steve went back to his car, and Steve slipped into the driver’s seat, dropping his head against the wheel and muttering, “We’re you flirting with Chrissy?”

“No—“

“It looked like it.”

“She was—she was flirting with me,” Robin stuttered, and Steve saw her cross her arms as he looked back up.

“I thought you had a girlfriend?”

“Vickie is not my girlfriend.” She said firmly, glaring at him slightly, her cheeks red as she looked down.

“Look, I’m not saying you can’t flirt with other girls—“

“I know, but I wasn’t flirting with Chrissy—“

He didn’t finish, just putting the car into drive and pulling out of the parking lot. He needed to go home. They could talk about this later.

——

IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, LET ME KNOW! And if you want to follow along with the story but don’t like being tagged, then you can either follow my blog, or follow the tag “Radio Star by Finn”! ⭐️

also let me know what you think I crave validation 🥺

sorry this part took so long!!! I’ve just been feeling super tired recently and haven’t really had the motivation to do much. Also thank you to @an-atlas-or-other for being the beta reader for this, <3

(If you saw Eddie’s character design change, no you didn’t. Also he’s a lot more put-together when he’s not highly caffeinated and stressed, lmao)

taglist:

@strangersteddierthings @aol19 @randombibitch @eddie-munsons-lunchbox @stillfullofshit @steventhusiast @estrellami-1 @jaytriesstuff @itsthestrangestthings @5ammi90 @absolutegremlin @txumxssianfox @goodolefashionedloverboi @hbyrde36

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lexygabe · 6 months

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tora aikawa / twisting tiger headcanons/rewriting/etc.

(march/11/1990)

pisces sun | virgo moon | aquarius rising

INFP - 9w8 - sx/so - 974 - ESI - RLUAI - EFVL - Melancholic-Phlegmatic

general headcanons:

• trans masc, he/him, gayace,

• nobody cares but his sexuality headcanons were made by me when i was mad at wattpad bitches infantalizing him and making him their uwu japanese anime boyfriend,

• also he is little gremlin man before anybody start treating him as omg so cute trans boy hahaha gay baby. nah, he will kick you directly in the balls (even if you don't have them) and he will do this with pleasure,

• as a kid he was creepypasta enjoyer (he tortured miko with them when he was trying to sleep),

• philosophy nerd, not only into "asian philosophy", but philosophy in general. marxism, stoicism, nihilism, epicureanism, etc. everything,

• he reads this big fucking books weighing tons and they are always the craziest shit ever like "the idiot" by fyodor dostoevsky,

• i think he is russian literature fan in general,

• i think he had something that we could describe as depressive episodes, but he was never diagnosed with it til adulthood. and to be honesg tiger himself thought that everyone have felt something like that from time to time,

• probably has light ptsd,

• his friendships with nakama players (besides his and miko bond) aren't that strong like they used to. this is "when both of you start to distancing from each other and you become strangers to each other" situation, (he misses them)

• he self expressing himself very often in form of his new tricks, but also in his writing (he has a lot of notebooks with multiple essays),

• loves cartoons,

• <energy drinks3,

• he has keyhole top surgery type of scars,

• he become strika member after his whole transition journey,

• when doc got his medical results he was a little bit confused bcs birth certificate said that tiger is afab, so he informed coach about it,

• some day after training coach took tiger aside and told him that if anybody's gonna have problem with his identity, he will talk to them and he also asked tiger if he was capable of informing him or doc about his problems/health,

• rasta was first to know, bcs he and tiger went out for a beer together once and tiger started pointing out on his chest and telling a whole story totally drunk. the next day rasta walked up to him and asked in friendly-jokingly way is it safe for him to remove his muscle breasts, to which tiger replied with laugh,

• besides rasta, coach and doc. shakes, klaus and probably whole reserve players bench know about him,

• y'all will eat me (for speaking the truth) but matador, joe and north don't know about the fact that he is trans. bcs north definitely says f/aggot at least once a day, el is this cis lgb+ stereotype in tigers eyes (even tho matador doesn't care about gender identity, if you are hot, then you are hot and you will have to deal with his interest in you) and joe may perceive tiger differently when he would come out (again, this is how tiger feels about him),

• he is very critical of the sigma male trend and whole "sigma" idea in general, he even done a research and watched and read american psycho and fight club (yeah ik this is so random),

• idealist. he is close with his feelings and morality, so he assumes very often that everyone controls their own emotions like him,

• he is both idealist and skeptic,

• texts >>>>>>> voice messages/video calls,

• had religion crisis,

• he develops his trust to people very slowly,

• has mulitple accounts on twitter and makes the best trolling posts out there,

• he has decent knowledge about politics,

• watches kdramas when bored,

• he was wearing brackets in the past,

• has a lot of collections (like gadgets from chips' wrappers, TALISMANS, jewelry, figurines), but he is not obsessed about them,

• has tattoos like this:

• DEFINITELY HAS SOMETHINGG FROM HYPERMOBILITY SPECTRUM. that's why he is so flexible.

throught the series (og tv show, rewriting):

• [—] is waiting to be completed.

relationship with:

• miko: ik a lot of you ships them, but they are platonic to me.

they are like brothers. sometimes they fight for dear life and the other time they send each other funny memes at 3 am. in my head, both of them didn't have a great family dynamic, so they stayed together late at night.

miko was more easy going, so he was always worried about tiger when something happened to him. they aren't ashamed to show their love to each other.

• inyo: when they were kiddos she truly loved him in the most sisterly way you can think of. both of them are very careful when it comes to developing relations so they become very important to each other. it hurt when they had no contact with each other for years and then they become super league enemies (they never even have a talk after this).

• rasta: tiger is welcomed in rasta's house and tiger is always open to do something for rasta in return. buddies.

• cool joe: its complicated. on the one hand they are good friends and joe considers tiger as one of the most normal mates in their team, but they still have that unresolved tension that prevents them from deepening their relationship further.

• others: ?

fashion headcanons:

• smokey eye makeup supremacy,

• TW SCARYASS PRINTED SHIRT. he wears t-shirts with the most obscure shit on them

• his style is something between grunge, gothic and alt,

• he wears platform shoes to look taller than he actually is,

• some examples of his fits:

music headcanons:

• soft rock!! (car seat headrest is his beloved), j-pop, mcr & bôa.

NSFW:

• had a tdick at the time when he was playing for nakama,

• is into t4t relationships, bcs every cis gay guy he had thing for were super weird about him and either have had internalized transphobia or specific fantasies that crossed his boundaries of comfort,

• tldr give this man a trans bf so he could have the most non sexual intercourse.

#supa strikas #headcanon: supa strikas #supa strikas twisting tiger #supablr #text: supa strikas

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