- if you're proship or ship any 'problematic' ships: incest, underage, step family, etc.
- MINORS on suggestive content (I will be posting stuff that might be NSFW)
none of this is too serious, it's really just me basically playing around with barbies on here
however bc it is a selfship account and the art is depicting me, im asking to not tag any art with anything like #me, #this is me, etc bc it is actually NOT you its literally me and it makes me very uncomfortable
little selfship fic about me helping bo (and vincent) with his hair before bed>:)
warnings: none
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Nights in Ambrose were hardly active, usually consisting of Vincent holed away in his workshop, Bo doing whatever the hell, and Lester winding down after work. The twins would usually stay up a bit into the night, though Vincent was no stranger to burning the midnight oil-- both figuratively and literally. Lester was more structured, needing to get what needs to be done in the time allowed, sneaking in some R and R if the afternoon allows it, before he's off to bed to wake the next morning bright and early for work. Everything was loosely structured when it came to anything but dealing with tourists. There hadn't been a set dinner time in a while, the twins usually scrounged around as opposed to making full set meals, it was easier that way. Sleep schedules were all out of whack and days between showers grew when the twins became too enamored into their respective hobbies.
It took a while to shake them from their habits and help them develop their own schedules.
Vincent came in at a decent hour, even if he wasn't going to bed early I made sure to wrangle him out of the workshop to eat and get a bit of sun throughout the day. Bo stopped bustling around the town as much and stuck to one specific spot rather than overworking himself to finish it all in one go, took a few scoldings on how he should let up on himself but it finally stuck. Now the big house on the hill was occupied with both sets of twins and only ever complete when Lester was in after work. The house was lit up and lively, a stark contrast to the state I had first came in on. Through my process of cleaning up and tidying, I was worried about the sudden, but hardly significant, shift in the living space upsetting the brothers. The idea of them working to fit me into their lives and then to possibly further cut in weighed on me. However, it was good enough of a difference though because Lester showed his face more often and Vincent stuck around for more than a few minutes, usually tucking himself in the corner of some couch and working with whatever side project he had.
Tonight was wash day and just as Bo was rounding the corner from the downstairs bathroom, I was finishing up with a loose braid on Vincent so his hair could dry and stay out of his face. I braided the last few strands before tying it off and patting his back, "Alright, done, s'Bo's turn." And with that, Vincent was up and Bo sat in his place in the floor, my legs wrapping around his chest and resting in his lap. I placed the towel around his shoulders before unscrewing the cap off of some curling cream and gathering a little on my fingertips. I spread it around my palms and a little between my fingers before threading them through Bo's wet curls. He hummed and leaned back before hollering when I yanked him gently forwards by his hair.
"Hey!" He titled his head back to give me a look.
"Don't move your head." I grumbled and placed quick peck to his forehead before fixing his head again. Bo was such a busybody sometimes, there were moments where he couldn’t sit still for the life of him. I shoved down bitters thoughts of his parents “solution” to his “problem” and repositioned his head anytime he accidentally moved it out of my reach. Bo liked to move and who was I to force him down.
He mumbled something but quieted down when I started working the conditioner in. I made sure to run over every inch of hair with my fingers before pressing my fingers into his scalp, massaging the skin gently. Bo let out a small hum, his shoulders and posture settling as he relaxed against the base of the couch. His hand drew soft shaped into my skin and the pressure lifted to a ghost of a touch before I was nudging him with my knee, "Hey, jackass, that tickles." I peaked around his head to press a kiss to his cheek before blowing a raspberry against the skin. He jerked back, his hand coming up to lightly shove me away before holding my face in his palm.
"Hah, now try’n get outta- DID YOU JUST FUCKIN' BITE ME?" Bo yanked his hand back before studying his saliva covered palm.
"Y'know how they tell you at the zoo not to stick your hands into the gates cause the animals will bite you, yeah, that's kinda like this."
"Yeah, no the hell it's not, mama, cause we ain't at the zoo." He squinted at me, just sat and squinted as if I had just said the dumbest thing.
"Oh, you sure got me fooled, this place looked like a lot like a pigsty when I got here." I grabbed at him to reposition him again, smiling to myself at his halfhearted huff of feigned annoyance. “And I think we got a couple’a jackasses running around here too.” Bo playfully elbowed my leg in response.
"I wiped my ass with that hand, I hoped you liked it."
"Go to hell, Bo, go to hell." I kicked him lightly before returning my attention back to his hair, "Can't believe this big baby doesn't wash his hands." I murmured and Bo once again moved his head to look up at me. "Oh my god, what is it, shit-hands." I huffed and he squinted again. That goddamn look.
"My hands are clean, shit-mouth." He butted his head against my stomach and I cradled his head.
"And my hands are about to be around your neck if you don't sit right and let me finish your hair." I griped before putting his head back once again. Bo finally settled again, his hands placed atop of the front of my legs as I gently stroked the side of his with my foot while I finished up. I grabbed his comb and wiped my hand before placing it against his forehead for stability while I gently worked out the knots in his hair, keeping close attention to the area around his scar. Once I could run the comb through his hair without it getting caught I moved on to finger curl some of Bo's looser strands. I collected and stretched strips of hair between my fingers before twining them up to his scalp, holding for a few, and then releasing. I finished the back first so Bo could lean against me while I worked on the front.
"There you go, Shirley Temple." I wiped my hands off against the towel draped around Bo, earning a groan from him. "Oh, quit'cher belly achin', dude, I ain't gettin' it on you."
He rolled his shoulders and stretched out his arms, bracing against me as he stretched out from sitting in the floor. A loud yawn made me jump and Bo laughed a little before nearly dragging me off the couch while he used my knees to get up. His way up was loud, his body played a symphony of cracks accompanied by Bo’s old man groand that ended with a drawn out ‘damn’. I gathered everything up to be put back in their place while Bo finished stretching. I watched him while he rubbed at his eyes, "You tired, angel?" I hummed softly and got up to stand near him, moving all the supplies to one arm before reaching out my hand. "C'mon, let's go to bed."
Another watery eyed yawn from Bo as I was already dragging him up the stairs, the tiredness from the day had finally settled into his bones while he sat in the living room. I shuffled him towards the bed before placing his things atop of his dresser and joining him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling him into my chest before laying my cheek to his temple.
"You smell good," I pressed my nose into his hair and sniffed, "was worried I was gonna have to take you out front and hose you down."
so ive been bingeing the hell out of shows lately and it got me thinking about which of these bitches would be into which shows and different medias of mine they'd like
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bo: its mid day, the town's dead and everyone's inside, it's quiet except for the living room tv blaring the sounds of Judi getting her shit rocked. Bo would LOVE Bad Girls Club, he lives for the drama, the violence, and shit talking almost everyone on the show. he does not miss an episode and is usually spot on at guessing who ends up staying the whole season. He's obviously into rock so i'd put that bitch onto some Greta Van Fleet, he'd act like it wasn't his thing but he'd end up humming parts of different songs that were stuck in his head. Listen he doesn't like them it's just that Safari Song is so damn catchy.
nick: it's movie night !! we've got everything, snacks, drinks, bud, and of course the movie. except its not a movie but instead fight videos on youtube.... annddd im making him watch The Mummy with me for the third day in a row. its nothing but laughing at people talking shit only to get one good one to the dome and criticizing weak ass jabs. the tv's off and we're chilling by the speaker, puffing away to some SZA. Long car rides with Static-X blaring from the giant ass system in Nick's trunk has my brain and eyeballs rattling in my skull and my body buzzing with a sort of nostalgic vibration.
lester: it's been a long, rough day and i just want to cuddle on the couch with my homie and watch some of The Rifleman, nothing better to make you forget than a nice western starring a mortally good dad and son duo with each episode guaranteeing the same happy ending. Lester makes comments throughout the episode, not so much as to start a conversation but to validate the protags' actions or to scold a character. He's really into old country, it's what he was raised on, and some modern stuff, although he doesn't like how materialistic and fake it's become. Got really into Tyler Childers when he heard him and it gave him a sort of hope for the genre.
reggie: shooting him with my americanization beam, were watching Young Guns and animal documentaries, all is fun until he decides to put on one centered around Australia and then my ass is tripping bc holy fuck what type of mutant ass bugs--... Helping him around the land and convincing him to turn off his music in favor of some Marty Robbins. Songs of hard work and yearning relate to him and he enjoys the storytelling and how gentle everything sounds, despite the sad lyrics. he still thinks his music is better tho.
I will confess here that I do have a favorite ship dynamic its that one reddit aita comment that goes "esh. Youre clearly just enabling each Others mental illnesses and are both fucked up and are perfect for each Other. Just Please Never involve anyone else in what youve got going on, Please."
