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#Norma Bates
bigforeheadbaddie · 18 days
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LETS FUCKING GOOOO
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oedipushansen · 5 months
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everything i ever did, i did it all for you.
ella wilson / steven levenson / metamaiden / pasek & paul / lana del rey / bates motel (image source: @sofialamb) / dear evan hansen / andrew barth feldman / @corpsecoded / lorde / ocean vuong / ethel cain / kira madden
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fanofspooky · 5 months
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We all go a little mad sometimes…
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artoflured · 4 months
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Sketches: XI - Relentless | XII - Resurrect | XIII - Repair | XIV - Redress
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otpsource · 1 year
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Norma Bates & Alex Romero | Bates Motel 4.03
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brokehorrorfan · 1 month
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Spoke Art has released Psycho 24x36 screen prints by Paul Mann. The standard version is limited to 200 for $200, while the black-and-white variant is limited to 50 for $250. They'll ship in 3-4 months.
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oppienheimer · 2 years
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norma bates appreciation [ 6 / ? ]
@giftober​ 2022 | fashion: norma bates + dresses
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blumfrey · 11 months
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Og:
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aintmovingnow · 1 month
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"Monster, Sam, you're a monster."
"This is all your fault."
Supernatural, 'When the Levee Breaks' (2009) / Bates Motel, 'What's Wrong with Norman' (2013)
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daphnedumaurigay · 2 years
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my moral stance when watching any tv show or movie hinges solely on whichever middle-aged woman my brain turns to slush for, so please for the love of god never leave the fate of humanity in my hands
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alaynestone · 3 months
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norma & norman sleeping in each other's bed while waiting for the other to come back. 2.09 4.10
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emilylprentiss · 1 year
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Bates Motel | 3.07 | The Last Supper
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make-your-own-evil · 1 year
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could I request hcs for norman bates with a shy s/o?
yes you could 👀
note: feel free to reblog my work! just please give credit where credit is due :)
Norman Bates x Shy!S/O
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welp, youre going to have to confess first because he's not doing it
even if your werent shy, becoming norman's s/o is quite the accomplishment with all of the hurdles you would have to jump through
ya know with the whole "all women are whores except for mother" thing
if his s/o doesnt actually identify as a woman that would create a rather interesting loophole for his *ahem* urges
regardless of gender or sexual identity, any possible s/o would need the approval of mother or rather "norma"
a shy and timid thing like yourself for her shy and timid son? hmm.. this could work... maybe
theres a video of introverted dogs going to a dog park where theyre all standing completely still not doing anything and thats kind of how i imagine this would go
he actually did pretty well at first asking marion to eat with him so i would assume that he wouldnt have too much of an issue initiating things
the two of you are blushing, stuttering and mumbling messes. theres an awful lot of socially awkward tension between you too
but it almost feels comfortable?
whats something that you two could do that doesnt involve talking to or looking at each other?
a movie!
he's not taking you OUT to the movies, youre watching a movie on the tv with him. on the couch. a good two feet apart. not moving.
he would ask you if there was anything he could get you every 15 minutes
oh god is that a kissing scene? god dammit now his face is red... and yours is too
out of the corner of your eye you can see him making quick glances, shifting his weight and flexing his fingers while youre sitting with him
tries to eventually scoot closer to you
movies over! that was fun! goodnight!
being norman's shy s/o would require a lot of patience. in a way its probably for the better since he wouldnt feel as intimidated as he would with someone who wasnt as shy as he is
if you dont mind that he's as shy as you are or that his mother wants you dead then go right ahead! he can be a big sweetheart 💕
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fanofspooky · 1 month
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We all go a little mad sometimes…
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artoflured · 4 months
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Sketch VI - Portrait
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notmanagingmymischief · 10 months
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𝒩.𝐵. || 𝒶 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝑔𝑜.
WOW, USER NOTMANAGINGMYMISCHIEF ACTUALLY STILL POSTS ORIGINAL WRITING??? :000000
shocker, i know
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word count: 1,964
warnings: death/dying, mentions of incestual tendencies on Norman’s part, survivor’s guilt, ambiguous ending?
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tag list:
@takemercyonme @when-i-miss-you @damagnificentcookie @straight2hades @marvelgeek09 @herashifts @crime-ninja @onebigsimp @emiliaisdead @sapphic-stress @nonbinary-cryptid-baby @merci-bitch @feartheclipse @mxbeezkneez @fxoehy @ahoy-gays @sythaerin @consciouschunkofmoss
if you’d like to be added to my tag list, send me an ask or comment, or fill in this form! <33
~~
enjoy xx
~~
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I had been in love with Norma Bates for as long as I could remember. From the moment I laid eyes on her, probably. It took almost two long years for me to finally confess to her, and three for us to completely and totally settle down with each other. It was on what was supposed to be a calm, easy day—one where neither of us had work to do, and we could just exist with each other—where something finally went wrong.
Well, that isnt entirely true; the past couple of days we’d been having this weird tension between each other. Norma had been busy with the Motel, Norman was being a pain in my ass, and my estranged family had decided to reach out again after years. All of the stress culminated today, though. When we had nothing to distract ourselves with, and somehow it ended up in an argument. One of our worst we’d ever had, in fact. I mentioned something about my parents getting on my ass, which led to the conversation of Norman. This was already a rather sensitive topic for everyone, and I’d been too stressed to filter myself. A stray comment I made had Norma all up in arms, and so here we are; in a screaming match in our shared bedroom.
“You can’t say that! I know you don’t get along, but Norman is my son, whether you like it or not!” Norma exclaims, throwing her hands up exasperatedly. I scoff and cross my arms. “Yeah, thats the problem, Norma. He’s your son.” I give her a Look, “He acts like he’s your boyfriend. Have you seriously never even been slightly freaked out by that?” I make perfectly valid points; Norman has always been weirdly attached to his mother, in a very creepy way. But Norma was unwilling to acknowledge that. We bicker back and forth some more, poisonous words thrown back and forth between us. “At least he didn’t abandon me!”
That. That was the final straw right there. Norma knew exactly how to get to me. I confided with her about my family issues and there she was, using them against me. I reel back with a hiss. “You—what?” I spit, glaring at her. But Norma doesn’t even take it back; I sense we’re both too upset to really consider each other's feelings. I shake my head. “No, thats too much. I can’t—you know that isnt what I did!” Norma mirrors my action, shaking her head and giving me an exhausted look. “Isn’t it?” she asks, and I have to clench my fists to stop from hitting something. We stare each other down for a moment, neither of us willing to speak. And then she does.
“That’s it. I’m done. We, this,” she gestures vaguely between the two of us, “is done.”
It hits me like a bag of bricks. I’m not stupid, or dense. “Are you breaking up with me right now, Norma..?” I ask, tears stinging in my eyes. “I didn’t want to say it but yes, I think that’s what has to happen. I just—I’m done.” I keep staring at her in shock, trembling violently. I can’t speak, can barely even breathe, and Norma wont even look at me. Finally, I choke back a little sob, and with a cracked little voice, I go “Fine. Fine, then. G-Goodbye, Norma Bates,” before turning on my heel and doing my best not to run from our room, from our house, from our life. It doesnt take me more than twenty minutes to grab some essentials, only what I’ll need for a couple days before I can come pick my stuff up, and throw it and myself into my car. Not once does Norma show her face, and I’m almost grateful for it. I only spare one glance up at that old house on the hill before pulling out of the lot and onto the freeway. I don’t know where I’ll go, I don’t know what I’ll do—I just need to get away.
I drive down the highway, vision dangerously blurry from tears, for what could be minutes or hours. I have the radio up as loud as it’ll go, I’m clenching my fists around the steering wheel to the point of my knuckles aching. But nothing matters, because everything just hurts. Everything hurts so much.
It hurts so much that I don’t notice myself shaking so badly my driving has become erratic. It hurts so much that I don’t see myself accidentally veer to the left with a particularly body-wracking sob. But it doesnt hurt enough to stop me from seeing the headlights blinding me. And all I have time to do is let out a choked gasp and shrill shriek before—darkness.
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Norma had been a wreck. Since she watched you from what used to be your bedroom’s window, watched you drive away and not look back, since she realized what she had done. She fell onto your—no, her bed—and put her head in her hands. She didnt cry, she couldn’t. But she did just sit there in silence, running through everything that had happened in the past hour in her head. When she did finally get up, her stare vacant and eyes dull, she went about the rest of her day without any of her usual fervor. Dinner with Norman was filled only by him, telling her about whatever taxidermy he’d done that day. And when she went to bed, Norma finally let herself cry. When she went to bed without you, and realized how cold her bed was. When she realized that the sheets hung too loosely over her shoulders because your body wasn't behind her to elevate them with your own. She didn’t sleep that night.
The next morning, Norma Bates is roused from her exhausted silence by her phone ringing. Not by her alarm, it was much too early for that. No, this was a call. With a sleepy groan, the blonde turns to grapple for it, answering the thing without reading the caller ID with an unimpressed “What?”
“Is this….Norma Bates?”
Norma didnt recognize the voice on the other end. “Uh…yes, this is she. Why..?” she mumbled, rolling onto her back. “This is Pine Bay Medical Center. We have Y/N L/N here with us…you were her emergency contact.” This immediately snaps Norma’s exhaustion out of her and she sits up in bed quickly. “What? You—what happened? Y/n? Is she alright?” “Ma’am, please breathe. Are you sitting down?” Norma’s breathing is already rapidly increasing, and she nods before realizing they cant see her and quietly choking out a “Ye-Yes, I am.”
“Mrs Bates, I regret to inform you that Miss L/N passed away this morning at…15:23 PM.”
The world goes silent. It falls out from under Norma and leaves her reeling; she nearly drops her phone from her hands as she just…stares. Stares at her wall in silence. The woman on the end of the line must be speaking to her, but all Norma can hear is a persistent buzzing behind the ringing in her ears as those words bounce around her head. After too long, the woman finally croaks out “Can I see her?” The moment she’s given the okay, she hangs up and snaps into action. She throws on the closet dress she can find, and doesnt even bother checking on Norman as she practically throws herself out the door and down the stairs.
Norma makes it to the hospital in record time, thankfully not stumbling across Alex to give her a speeding ticket, and the car is barely in park before she’s out the door and sprinting into the ER. Her voice shakes something fierce as she begs the receptionist to let her see you; as though begging them to bring you back. It takes too long for them to understand her but when they do, they give her a knowing look. “She’s..already at the mortuary, second floor.” Norma doesn’t bother thanking them before she’s gone, up the stairs and frantically searching for the room.
It doesn’t really sink in, she thinks, until she gets through to the workers and is finally led to the wall. When the small door is opened and a metal slab is slowly pulled out. And when she stares down at you. Down at her girl; peaceful but cold to the touch. It doesn't sink in that you’re gone until she rests a trembling hand on your cheek and can’t feel the warmth of your skin, when you don’t automatically lean into her touch. It isn’t until that moment that the world, reality, finally comes crashing back in and down onto her shoulders. The reality where you’re….not here.
Without being able to stop it, a shrill sob falls from Norma’s lips, and just like that she collapses against the wall. The mortuarists don’t intervene—they’ve seen this happen too many times—and let her grieve. They let her sob and plead and press her fingers to every cut and scratch on your pallid complexion, until she’s finally guided slowly and carefully from the room, still crying and repeating your name desperately. She’s sent into an empty room to be by herself, but she can’t even make it to the chair before she’s on her knees on the ground, sobbing all over again. Face in her hands, nearly screaming with the agony filling her entire body and soul. Gone, gone, gone, gone. You’re gone. Nothing Norma can say or do can take back what happened, and now you’re gone.
You’ll never wake her up with breakfast in bed again. You’ll never laugh at her stupid jokes. You’ll never hug her from behind and press your face into her hair as you grumble about the workweek’s stress. She’ll never kiss you again. She’ll never stay awake talking until past midnight about anything and everything again. She’ll never even…see you again.
Norma doesnt know how long she stays like that; eventually someone must have shown up because now she’s sitting in an uncomfortable chair and being asked too many questions, being talked at too much, and everything’s too loud. And Norman is there. He appeared a few hours back, but didn’t dare try to speak to his mother. She was too deep in her grief to even recognize his presence yet, and when she answers questions they’re brief and mumbled. The clearest thing that passes by her hearing is a doctor saying “Your wife was very strong in the OR. She fought hard, and it’s a real shame she didn’t make it.”
Her wife? When had she been put into the role of your wife? It was only once she was given your phone that she realized her contact was titled “wifey <333”, her name only written in the subtext inside the contact info. This brought on a new wave of tears. More unidentified time passes, until Norma is finally left alone with Norman in silence.
“I’m done.”
Norman looks up at his mother with a confused look. “What did you say, mother?” She slowly raises her head from her hands; “‘I’m done.’ That’s the last thing I said to her,” she breathes, eyes glistening with more tears that prepare to join the ones already streaming down her cheeks. “The last thing she thought she knew was that I hated her,” Norma chokes, sobbing again and letting her head fall back into the wall. She doesn’t even register the dull sting, too consumed by guilt and shame and grief.
What flowers will they have at your funeral? Did you ever write a will? Who would they tell? Would she let your family know?
But worst of all—how would she live with herself knowing that this was all her fault?
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