#mr refreshing

[i-live-inyourwalls]

"mr. refreshing"

LEAST refreshing way possible to enter the court

[kaleidoscopicbullettrain]

@straycatj i think he is judging my dashboard...

[chaoticneutraltor]

[vinnybox]

🟩⬛Mr. L

[logicpng]

been trying to boost confidence in my own art w gesture drawings, these were made in-between

[deerspherestudios]

RAHHHHH I love MR!Mychael he is so fascinating to me? Simply because I would HATE to be in the same room as him. Or the same general vicinity. I would get to anxious but for the wrong reasons.

It would be HELL knowing that, not only can can MR!Mychael lie to you with ease and put on a flawless facade, but he can (and will) also strip you of the ability to lie/act effectively. You’re at every disadvantage. The only thing anyone could really do is learn to be very honest and genuine, but in a way that isn’t hurtful to you OR him.

You’d really have to look at your own emotions. Work out your biases and smooth yourself over—or at least gain a really good self-understanding and be honest about that. Because, face it!!! I feel like there’s a VERY small chance that someone would be ideal for MR!Mychael right off the bat. You can’t be too nice (he’ll get suspicious), but you can’t be too mean (he’s not putting up with that), but you can’t be a massive liar/good actor (he’ll figure it out ASAP), there’s so much you can trip on.

It’s so interesting to think of what it would look like to see someone adapt to MR!Mychael real-time. To have someone actively work through themselves. I’m sure it would be a surprise to MR!Mychael.

WAGGHHHH that was kind of a lot sorry 💀 I do have a question if you’ll indulge (you can ignore it if you’d like!! /g). How would MR!Mychael respond to someone with intrusive thoughts? What would he do if MC explained them to him (in-depth if they had to, to get him to understand).

For context! Teeheehee reading this was an absolute delight! You've honestly got him spot on, similar to this analysis someone did!

There's not much I can add on that you and the other person hasn't already said, but I imagine MR!Mychael would be even more extreme with his yandere tendencies if he finds someone that special. If OG!Mychael was a bird cage, MR!Mychael would be a bear trap. Interpret that how you will.

As for the question, it depends on how close you are to him! If you're close enough that he can trust what you're saying, he'd give you the benefit of the doubt and learn to sift through your thoughts. But if he doesn't like you, he'd just call bullshit like "what do you mean you can't control them they're your thoughts."

Thank you for this ask honestly, it was soso fun to read.

[burntkern]

scarling but its just the two of them

[kymeraka]

pretty setter squad and the not so pretty plush abuse while i warm up

[matante-brainrot]

So @twilightofthesandwiches’s post got me thinking about spamtenna and I figured I would brain dump it here to get it out of my head.

One of the many things I love about these two is the fact that at one time they both had the same goal — to become a big shot — but their motivations for doing so were completely opposite.

Tenna is a TV. He was created to be something that Lightners enjoy, something that brings them together. He was lucky enough to be in a home that loved him and he loved them in return. The Dreemurrs were his family, too. So when he started to realize that his importance to the family was waning, he became desperate to re-establish his place among them. He wanted to continue the role he was designed to do, the role that brought him meaning and happiness.

Spamton, on the other hand, is spam email. No one likes spam. He was created to make Lightners miserable — a nuisance. And the worst part of it was that he had no way to escape this role. It was hardcoded into his very existence. As long as he fulfilled his purpose as a Darkner he would be scoffed at, pushed aside, and avoided by Lightners and Darkners alike. Of course he would try to find a way to gain enough power to defy that fate.

And that’s the crux of it — Tenna wanted power in order to further his existence as it is, for the good (in his eyes) of the Lightners he cared so deeply for. Spamton wanted power to break out of the confines of his role. He had no desire to please Lightners; he wanted to live for himself. Their worldviews were irreconcilable. Neither could have possibly understood the other’s viewpoint. Yet they worked together and meant so much to each other.

And I just think that’s neat.

[runayachi]

On a mild winter day–not quite warm but definitely less chilly than it had been in days past–Oikawa and Iwaizumi are hanging out at the park. They’re not doing anything–for once, neither of them particularly feel like a round of volleyball. Iwaizumi is idly making snowballs. Oikawa would be worried, but so far Iwaizumi’s done nothing more than break the snowballs apart once he’s finished shaping them, so he’s largely unconcerned until the blue-clad figure of a certain pesky underclassman (former underclassman?) turns around the corner and starts jogging towards the park. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grouses. 

“What?” Iwaizumi asks, then he notices Kageyama Tobio jogging towards them. 

“Be nice, Shittykawa,” he grumbles. 

“I’m always nice,” Oikawa snaps. 

Iwaizumi raises one singular eyebrow at him, and Oikawa shuts his mouth immediately. 

“Kageyama!” Iwaizumi calls. 

Kageyama’s eyes widen, and then he’s running lightly towards the two of them. He gives them both a half-nod. 

“Oikawa-senpai, Iwaizumi-senpai,” he says. “How are you?” 

“We’re fine,” Oikawa says. 

“Congrats on making it to Nationals,” Iwaizumi says, and even gives Kageyama a fist bump. “We watched some of your matches. You played well.” 

Kageyama’s cheeks turn pink. “Thanks. It was fun.” 

“How’s number ten doing?” Iwaizumi asks. “I heard he collapsed.”

Kageyama scowls. “That idiot,” he says. “He’s fine. He didn’t get enough rest.” 

Oikawa doesn’t want to sit here and listen to Iwaizumi and Kageyama talk about Nationals, when it’s a bitter reminder that he never got to play in it himself, so he blurts out the first thing he can think of that isn’t related to Nationals. 

Which just happens to be, “Hey, Kageyama, do you think you can give me Mr. Refreshing’s contact information?” 

Silence falls over the three of them as Iwaizumi and Kageyama process his words, then turn to stare at him with different expressions. Iwaizumi’s eyes are wide and his jaw has dropped slightly; Kageyama meanwhile looks incredibly confused. 

Oikawa doesn’t know where that came from. Why would he ask about Mr. Refreshing? He hasn’t even thought about the silver-haired reserve setter from Karasuno since his defeat at the Spring Semifinals. Or, no, he was definitely watching Mr. Refreshing during the Shiratorizawa match. Okay, so he hasn’t thought about him since–no, wait, he was also watching him during the Inarizaki match…it seems like he’s thought a lot about Mr. Refreshing lately. 

“Who’s Mr. Refreshing?” Kageyama asks after the silence has gone on too long. 

“Your senpai?” Oikawa asks. “You know, at Karasuno?” 

“Why do you want his number?” Iwaizumi demands. “What are you planning?”

“You don’t support me making friends? Iwa-chan!” Oikawa throws Iwaizumi a fake pout. Iwaizumi starts threateningly scooping up snow. 

“I just want to talk to him,” Oikawa says, raising his hands placatingly. “Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Yes,” Iwaizumi says, and starts shaping it into a ball. Oikawa surreptitiously starts moving away from him.  

Kageyama shrugs. “I don’t know if…if…my senpai would want me to give out his contact information.” 

That is a reasonable objection, Oikawa supposes. But when there’s a will, there’s a way. 

“Hm, well, you have my information, right?” Oikawa asks, even though he knows the answer to this. 

“No.” Kageyama is as blunt as ever. 

Oikawa blinks. “You don’t? I thought you did?” 

Kageyama frowns. “You never gave it to me.” 

“I didn’t?!” Oikawa gasps in fake surprise (of course he hadn’t given Kageyama Tobio his number). “Really?” 

“Why are you surprised,” Iwaizumi mutters, not loud enough for Kageyama to hear him, but he is leaning close to make sure that Oikawa hears the judgment in his tone. 

He makes the executive decision to ignore Iwaizumi. And shifts even further away from his friend, because Iwaizumi’s almost finished with the snowball. 

“Here,” Oikawa says, and starts rummaging around his coat for a slip of paper to write his number on. “I’ll give you my number, and you can ask if Mr. Refreshing if he wants it or not.” 

“But…” Kageyama’s mouth opens and shuts a few times, before he manages to say, “Who’s Mr. Refreshing?”

“Your senpai, you know, the pretty one.” The comment slips out, but Oikawa freezes as soon as the words have been said. 

Since when has he thought that Karasuno’s reserve setter was pretty? Sure, he has interesting hair (a light silvery color, one that looks like it would shimmer in the sun), and his eyes are a really nice shade of brown (almost copper, if he was feeling fancy), and he had nice hands (setter’s hands, really) but that didn’t mean he was pretty. Just mildly interesting to look at.   

“The…pretty one?” Kageyama repeats. 

“You think Mr. Refreshing’s pretty?” Iwaizumi asks, and now he’s leaning back to regard Oikawa with a look that spells nothing but trouble. At least he’s stopped messing with the snow, Oikawa thinks numbly. “Really?” 

“Well, I–” Oikawa sputters as he frantically tries to defend himself. He’s not going to back down on something he said, regardless of how much he may or may not have meant it. “He’s certainly not ugly!” 

“Do you mean Shimizu?” Kageyama asks earnestly. “She really doesn’t want her number getting out. Tanaka and Noya told us that we should under no circumstances give anyone her number without her permission.” 

“Shimizu?” Oikawa asks and starts mentally going through Karasuno’s roster (he really should have learned their names; he can only recall their jersey numbers) before he remembers the pretty girl with glasses who’d followed Karasuno around during their matches. “Oh, your manager?” 

Kageyama nods. 

“No, she’s cute, but I don’t want her number. I want Mr. Refreshing’s number.” Oikawa scoffs. “Besides, I don’t think she’d be a Mr. Refreshing.” 

Kageyama starts frowning again. “So it’s not Shimizu? Most people want her number.” 

“Eh, she already rejected me.” 

Kageyama blinks. “She did?” 

“Yeah.” Oikawa gives up on searching for paper. “Here, just put your number in my phone,” he says to Kageyama, and hands over his phone, a space for a new contact already opened. Kageyama willingly types his number in. Oikawa messages Kageyama immediately as soon as the contact’s made. 

“Now you have my number,” he says cheerfully. “So you can go to Mr. Refreshing and ask if he wants my contact info, and if he says yes, you can send it to him for me!” He gives Kageyama his most winning smile. 

“...I still don’t know who Mr. Refreshing is,” Kageyama says. 

“I told you, he’s your pretty senpai.” Oikawa doesn’t stumble over pretty. He does not; he never stumbles over admitting whether or not someone is pretty. “Karasuno’s not that big.”  He pauses, then adds, “His hair’s grey, if that helps.” 

“...right.” 

It’s awkwardly silent after that. 

“Ah, Kageyama,” Iwaizumi says, cutting into the silence, and offering Kageyama a smile when Kageyama turns to him. “That reminds me. Your captain’s really good at receives; do you think I could get his number? I want to ask him for some tips.” 

“Oh,” Kageyama says, and actually visibly brightens. “I’m sure Daichi-san would be happy to hear you say that. Yeah, I can give it to you.” 

Oikawa’s jaw drops, but Iwaizumi shoots him a glare that quickly shuts him up. Kageyama gives Iwaizumi Daichi’s number a little too easily, and then Iwaizumi is telling Kageyama to have a good run, and Kageyama’s jogging off in the opposite direction. 

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa wails as soon as Kageyama’s out of sight. “Why are you getting Karasuno’s captain’s number?”

Iwaizumi raises an eyebrow at him. “You don’t support me making friends?” 

It’s such a blatant mockery of Oikawa’s earlier words that Oikawa gasps and scoops up a handful of loose snow to throw in Iwaizumi’s face. “Iwa-chan!” 

Iwaizumi scowls and brushes snow from his hair. “You’re going to regret that,” he says, and picks up a snowball. Oikawa barely has time to plead for mercy before it hits him in the face. 

He puts Kageyama Tobio, and the Mr. Refreshing dilemma, out of his mind after that, too busy trying to get as much snow as possible into Iwaizumi’s clothes.

[thegreatyin]

sorry guys, i'm afraid The Horrors have consumed caeru's inventory. we're gonna have to put her down

[spence-does-life]

oisuga but oikawa is the one who falls first

one-sided oisuga but oikawa is the pining one

oisuga but suga is indeed oikawa’s gay awakening

oisuga but oikawa is too coward to confess

missed opportunity oisuga - they never connect at the right time

[doortotomorrow]

memori - on their honeymoon

[homemoon]

guys im scared

[kissproof]

REQUEST by @thequeenofthedirt !

WARNINGS: mature themes , anti!cop sentiment , vic has a baby mama <3

orange had gauged some…suspicious activity between blonde and an unnamed woman a couple of weeks back at the diner. he watched the two of them in the parking lot, vic passing a white envelope with a stack of cash to her after a job. she snatched it without a word. maybe it was her hurrying off, maybe it was the wordless exchange, or the fact he had to do it in secret that set freddy off, but he was off. he took down her license plate number the next time they met up at the diner, and found everything about her. this could be a real in for him. the police department wasn’t yet satisfied with anything orange brought them back about joe, his new boss…so why not dig into this guy’s pawns?

orange was sweating bricks circling my around her apartment, waiting for the moment to strike. excitement fizzled in him as he finally spotted her car coming down the drive, beaming in the sunlight as she paralleled outside her address. just like what the records at the station showed.

after making another round to avoid suspicion, he slowly pulled up behind her. noticing she hadn’t gotten out of her car yet, he did the honors of performing his nonchalant act, digging his hands in the pockets of his jeans, whistling a broken tune, and staring at the other buildings. just a local renter wanting to see if any open houses were holding in the area…he’d always wanted to move down here, yada yada yada. vic’s woman, who had already eyed orange as he cruised behind her, scoffed tiredly.

she stepped out of her car and veered around, eyes on his backside without a lick of admiration attached. another letter envelope, fat with wads of hard cash, was tucked under her arm. “why are you following me, cop?”

freddy felt his whistle dive right back into his nutsack. stiff in the legs suddenly, he whipped around and found himself looking right at his target, sunglasses covering her sun-kissed face.

“me?” freddy stammered, “i’m not follo-“

she smirked, it stopped him dead. “so you are a cop?” she spat, then switched weight onto her other hip, “listen, i’m not a part of whatever vic has going on. i just have his baby.”

her words were as certain as the grave and orange barely had time to process the syllables before she beelined around him, parading to her front door. had she been noticing him watching her and vic? who tipped her off? what if she could blow his cover? and…

“b-baby?” orange squeaked. their eyes found each other again. orange tried to see hers through her shades.

“yeah. i got fucked. no condom.” she rolled her neck and blinked a few times, dead serious. and orange laughed, in an obviously uncomfortable manner. as if he wanted to say you don’t need to spell it out for me… but she didn't relent. instead, she rolled her eyes and played harder, “oh who am i kidding? you’ve probably never been laid.”

“hey-“ freddy furrowed his brow and lurched forward.

she raised her eyebrow. a challenge? a threat? orange peeled back again. softened his stance. the last thing he needed was to be jumped right here in broad daylight by whatever company this broad keeps.

“he’s just giving me money to pay for his kid. isn’t that what good guys do?” orange said nothing. she sucked her teeth. “i mean,” she threw her arm to the wind, “how the hell he gets it i don’t know nor give a fuck. so… if you want to pin him down for something, you won’t find it here. at least i won’t help you.”

orange gave a taut nod, cordial, but embarrassed by his mistake. of course, he’d never admit it, so he just flashed a smile to her as she entered her vestibule before offering one last gesture.

“thanks for your help, miss…?”

“yeah, no problem,” she huffed, grabbing a hold of her door to slam it heartily, “fucking pig.”

[vs-headband]

I like to think they're just sitting there evilly watching as the fandom spirals because they're now almost 20 minutes late to their own premiere