I don’t even get how much I hate lice at this point. Like every other ship I will swoon over
Archiebetty? Hell yeah! Cherosie? Fuck me up fam! Cheronica? Breathtaking! Archeryl? I’d give my life for them!!
But then it gets to b*ghead and I’m like
What the actual fugckt? No. Get out. I don’t even want you here. Who asked for you? No one. Exactly. Move out of my way. I love myself and the planet thanx
samejima pulling shishio by his neck tie to her level, and planting one on him as payback for kissing her after he called her cute. and shishio being so freaking dumbstruck that he kinda just gawks, embarrassed as hell, even after she tells him goodnight and goes into her apartment. because samejima is absolutely amazing and he’s honest-to-god hopelessly falling for this layered woman.
or samejima checking shishio when he pulls that “just kidding” shit. like, no sir. say what you mean and mean what you say. and shishio has no choice but to be honest with her. like, “i like your asymmetrical bangs.” “i like how your ears make you look like a koala bear when you sleep.” because samejima will not tolerate half-stepping when it comes to romance, fictional or not. if you’re going to woo me, you are going to woo me right, mr. shishio so-and-so. this corny, cliche garbage is what i live for.
For God’s sake, Kent thinks to himself in
the “personal care” section of the grocery store. Why does Dove think I’m allergic to purple just because I’m a guy?
He picks up the lavender-scented bar soap and inhales. It smells heavenly. Next he tries the sandalwood-scented from the men’s section. It comes in a
gray box and costs fifty cents less. It smells good but it reminds him of floor
I’m a grown-ass man, Kent thinks, and buys
the lavender soap.
The next time he’s out of body wash, he spends thirty minutes
trying to decide on one of the many “manly” smells before caving to “Cocoa
Cabana” in the women’s aisle because it smells like Valentines Day in a bottle.
After that it’s his deodorant body spray, trading in “Bold” (whatever the fuck
boldness smells like) for “Fresh Cotton.”
The first time Jeff catches a whiff
of it on him, he asks, “New fabric softener? It smells awesome.”
“Nah, switched deodorants.”
“Huh.” Jeff nods in approval. “Well, you smell like fresh
blankets out of the dryer. I have a physical urge to hug you.”
Kent laughs. Jeff hugs him and he laughs more. It’s nice.
After five months, nearly every toiletry Kent owns has been
switched over from an endless variety of blacks, grays, and occasional dark
greens and blues to white, purple, soft brown, yellow, and pink. Showers have
transformed from a perfunctory necessity to something luxurious. Women’s
products are so indulgent.
They make Kent feel and smell like he’s been at a spa. He does have to learn to juggle the fragrances appropriately or
risk smelling like a perfume store vomited on him. But it’s worth it, for how
good he feels after. He feels pampered. His skin is softer, his hair shines,
and even his pits and crotch look and feel cleaner. He doesn’t know if it’s the
products or because he really cares about the maintenance, now, since he’s got
all these specialty items to try. It doesn’t matter. He feels great.
Kent now has honest-to-God bubble baths and detox-salt-soaks.
He’s got body butters and face masks and a lip balm in almost every flavor. The
ladies at the Lush at the mall know him by name.
Kent’s still single. He’s got his cat for company, though, and
the guys, who drop by or come over for movie and game nights and get drunk and
eat all his food and pretend to chirp him for the specialty lemongrass-scented
hand soap in his bathroom. Sometimes, on roadies, Swoops will plop down next to
him on a bus or a plane and say loudly, “Damn, who’s got chocolate and
isn’t sharing? Oh, it’s just Parser. Fuck you for getting my hopes up,” and
then he’ll noogie Kent or grab his fingers and gnaw on them.
(The coaches have had to break them up before and it’s very
unbecoming of two adult men.)
More than once, one of the guys has fallen asleep next to Kent
and ended up face-first in Kent’s shoulder. They’ll wake up blearily, rubbing
their eyes and saying, “Whoops, sorry man, didn’t mean to drool on you.”
Kent was confused at first but he’s realizing that it’s because they gravitate
towards the scent of him in their sleep. He smells like comforting things:
honey and chocolate and cotton and Shea. He smells like warmth and safety. It’s
why he likes all the things he buys, so it makes sense the guys would like
Nobody rags on him for it. They chirp him, but that’s different.
Chirping, light-hearted and giggly, means acceptance. Soon his teammates start
coming up to him in the locker room or nudging him on a bus and
saying, “Parser, can I borrow some of your stuff?” and leaving with
key-lime lips or cocoa-butter hands.
But it’s when he catches Sunny—big, burly, greatly-bearded d-man
Sunny—pulling a bright orange tube of passion fruit lip balm out of his bag and
slicking it on in front of everyone that he knows for sure that it’s okay.
What she means: ok, but for real, who IS Specs? I mean according to his canon lines in the show and most general headcanons based on the cliché “sweet lil glasses nerd” trope, he’s really considerate and loyal and softspoken. Like this boy saw that the paper price was up and decided “huh maybe I’ll save my manhattan buddies the trip and check out the journal. oh diddly darn cheese and crackers it’s hiked up over there too”. But in the tour version, he’s the one that breaks in and out of the Refuge to get Crutchie’s letter. NOT JACK, the escaped convict. The only person ever known to “beat” the Refuge. Not the legendary Jack Kelly. Oh no. Freakin Specs McSweetiepants straight up BREAKS IN AND OUT OF JAIL to deliver a LETTER to this distraught sack of wild-west-themed emo fuck. Like. How does he know how to do that?? What has my baby known?? And then remember Jack’s super duper top secret art that reveals his soft tender side that he doesn’t even show Crutchie during the prologue?? - NO. NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT HIS ANGSTY PICASSO SHIT EXCEPT THIS BRAINY SMURF-ASS MOTHERFUCKER who sells out scary big bro Jack for LITERALLY NOTHING. Like did Katherine even ask??? Or was Specs just being beyond petty like “bitch you think that’s bad you should see these scribbles he does while blasting mcr on the roof and getting a noise complaint its fuckin pathetic” AND JUST LEAKED ALL THIS GARBAGE LIKE THIS BITCH AINT LOYAL BY ANY MEANS HUFFLEPUFF MY ASS. WHO. THE FUCK. IS. SPECS.