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ne-umeyu-tancevat · 7 months

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Picnic date with Norman Bates <3

for @perfectlullabies and @littlegreenfag

The day was hotter than expected when you first planned this little outing. The fine, hot Californian sun beat down overhead, and though you were in the lightest and airiest linen you owned you were sweating beneath your sunhat, underneath the unrelenting weight of the sun’s rays, making as if to press you into the earth and bake you dead where you lay. Norman, however, walked light and easy as you both trekked through the landscape, hills and farmland, completely unbothered, his face and arms already nicely browned though summer was just at its start. You were the one who knew where you were both going but he, on his long legs, almost left you trailing behind, even as he carried with him the picnic basket you’d packed.

It wasn’t that long of a walk to the spot you found, though it was made long by the heat. You were huffing and puffing and suffering as you crossed the last stretch, coming over the apex of the last hill.

“There!” You pointed ahead. “Oh my god, I thought we’d never reach it!” In the little valley between hills was an old tree with sprawling wide branches, surrounded by tall grass and wildflowers in midsummer explosion, a veritable oasis amid a sea of food monocrops. You both paused for a moment, you caught your breath as he stared down at the sight before him.

“Wow! How beautiful!” He turned back and smiled at you, more dazzling than the sun. “I-I-I never even thought there would be a place like this so close to my front door!” He glanced at his watch. “Barely twenty minutes, it’s not even 2:30 yet!”

“Twenty minutes?! I thought it was like, an hour,” you fanned your face with your open hand. “I thought we were lost!”

He laughed and, looking down at the steep decline in front of you, tentatively offered his hand. “Shall we? I’m hungry from all that walking…” You smiled up at him and put your hand in his, it was big and warm and his skin was soft, and your heart thudded in your chest. Hand in hand you carefully descended into the valley, wading amongst the flora until you came upon a perfect little clearing in the shade of the great old tree. It was already noticeably cooler.

He set down the picnic basket at your feet, and you spun around, taking it all in, the rustling grass and leaves overhead, the bright and shining green hills standing all around you. “Isn’t it just lovely down here?”

He was standing with his hands held loosely in front of him at waist height, he brought them together and interlocked them nervously as he looked at you. “Y-Yeah… it is.” he breathed out, smiling as he quickly nodded.

You crouched down and opened the basket at your feet, taking the folded blanket from the top. “Here, help me spread it out!” You took the loose corner and the whole wide surface spilled free. He bent down and took the other end, finding the adjacent corners and spreading it out wide as you both stepped apart, moved to find the perfect spot and bent down to smooth the blanket of any bothersome folds. “Alright, now sit down!” You told him, and went over to retrieve the basket, kneeling down opposite to him as you flipped open the lid, setting aside the plates, cutlery, and glasses. “Okay… are you ready to see what I have prepared for us today?” You said with a flourish of the hand, grinning.

“Oh yes, I’m ready!” He nodded eagerly, sitting criss crossed in front of you, looking so sweet and patient.

“I tried to make things I think you would like…” You said, and now you were a little nervous, but you listed them out as you took each container and set them aside neatly on the blanket: an assortment of cured meats and nice cheeses sliced thin, cut fresh fruit, salad with fresh greens and vinaigrette dressing, and an assortment of sandwiches cut into quarters, light cucumber sandwiches with cream cheese, egg salad sandwiches, cold cuts with lettuce and tomato. You smiled up at him through your lashes as you brought out the last thing in the basket: a tall bottle of red wine.

His eyebrows raised, his mouth parted as he mouthed “wow” and then smiled again. “Wine! I’ll admit, I don’t really drink…”

You felt a little anxious and sheepish in the assumption you made in bringing it, you clutched the bottle in your hands and moved to put it back in the basket. “Oh! Well, that’s perfectly alright you know, i-if you don’t want to then we won’t open it!”

“No, no, I mean - What I mean is, I’ve never really… drank alcohol before. Mother would never approve…” He laughed nervously, his eyes flitted to the ground for a second and he paused, thinking. “But I’ll have some today, if you brought it!”

“Well, alright then! You can at least try it, here,” you reached over and took the two glasses, setting them in front of you before you fished the corkscrew out of the basket, screwing it into the top until the two levers on either side were raised, and pushed them down, wiggling until you released the stopper with a distinctive POP! You smiled, smelling the sweet and astringent aroma from the opening, and poured a roughly equal amount into the two glasses before handing one off to him.

You sipped and watched eagerly as he sniffed at the rim of the glass and quirked an eyebrow. Then, tentatively, he brought it to his lips, and drank deeply, deeper than you expected, and your eyes went wide, eyebrows coming together in astonishment. “Okay, well, don’t go too wild with it,” you started, then watched the journey of conflicting emotions play across his face, unable to escape but to either swallow the mouthful of wine or to spit it back into the glass, and you almost thought he would, until at last he tilted his head back and swallowed with some effort, gasping for breath, he coughed and made a face.

“Well, Norman, how was it?”

“It’s good, not bad,” he choked out, looking and sounding pained. “It’s sweet! But I wasn’t expecting the way it would taste so strongly!”

“Well, you also knocked back half the glass in one go, silly. You’re supposed to sip it,” you smiled affectionately and pointed at him: “Unless you wanna get really drunk really fast!” You laughed again.

“It feels… It’s really warm in my stomach.”

“Well, here then, you’ll need to have some food too,” you reached over and took the plates and cutlery, set one of each in front of him and then yourself. “Let’s eat!”

He reached over and matched a translucent-thin slice of prosciutto to a piece of provolone and ate it in one bite. Plate in hand, you took a sandwich and an assortment of fruit. Norman, holding the salad bowl with a serving on his plate in front of him, held it to you in offering, and you lifted your plate closer as he spooned a good helping over, smiling kindly in a way that made your heart throb. And then, satisfied, you both started to eat.

Partway through your first plates, with his glass empty and his face pink, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, Norman looked up and said, breaking the silence: “You know, I really love sharing meals with people.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” He paused, gathering his words. “I started cooking all by myself fairly young! It was pretty much the only thing I could do well that would make my mother happy.” He said this humorously, but it left a sour feeling in your heart that you pushed down, away from your face. “I think people are just happier when they’re eating…” He giggled, lifting his shoulders.

“Well I hope, I really hope we get to share a lot more meals together, Norman,” you smiled warmly at him. “I’m pretty happy right now!” You reached over, placing your palm over top of his hand for a moment before you pulled away.

You talked as you ate your fill, and as the bottle grew emptier, about books, about art, and movies (you told him about movies, Norman didn’t go to the theater at all), about your hobbies and the places you’ve traveled to in your life, and about the many kinds of people he’s seen check into his motel, and the funny things they sometimes left behind. When most of the food was gone, you picked at the remaining charcuterie, and there was a weighty sort of momentum to your movements, a spinning sensation you hadn’t quite noticed in your reverie that proved you were more than a little tipsy, sun-drunk and wine-drunk and love-drunk too, and so very happy. Full, you lapsed into silence, a silence that was comfortable. The sun had moved, uncovering the half of the picnic blanket that Norman was sitting on from shadow, and he laid back to rest in the warmth, closing his eyes against the mid afternoon rays, and looked more content than you had ever seen him before.

You moved the empty plates and containers back into the basket to make room, and then sat just looking at him, taking him in as much as you possibly wanted, that he wasn’t looking at you all the same, making you nervous under his gaze. His lithe body looked so relaxed with his hands interlocked and resting on his stomach - he was always so tense! His dark hair, wonderful thick brows and dark lashes, his exquisitely structured face, straight nose, his cheeks flushed from the alcohol. The mole on his upper lip, and oh, oh the lips themselves, that you had imagined kissing so much. Well, now you were a little anxious, and there was the strange notion that he might even read your thoughts, know your desires from the intensity of them alone. You moved to lie down next to him so that you didn’t have to look anymore, that you only had to enjoy his presence in the sun, in the heat, with the rustling of grass, magenta and yellow fireworks exploding on the tops of leafy wild plants, the buzzing of insects, butterflies drifting from flower to flower and crickets calling out for mates amongst the thicket.

But your mind was still in the orbit of kissing, thinking of how much you wanted to kiss him and how easy it would be to just kiss him. It was your third date, and that was appropriate, right? Really, you’d wanted to kiss him almost from the first moment you saw him. He was exceedingly skittish when it came to these things, the physical intimacy, he was already practically shaking the first time you held his hand. You would have to ease into it…

You sat upright, and twisted yourself to look at him, still lying with his eyes closed, and asked: “Norman, have you ever kissed anyone before?” …Regretting it immediately as tension filled his whole figure, was it too quick, too forceful? And you knew he probably would have never kissed anyone before anyways. What is wrong with me? The wine, it’s the wine making me so bold… Your gut cringed as his eyes shot open, fearful, and for a second he was still before he shook his head “no.”

“Oh well that’s completely fine you know I’ve never really kissed anyone before either,” the words dribbled out as you turned away, looking out into the meadow in front of you with a grimace, feeling troubled as you ran your hands on the fabric over your thighs. But you didn’t want to make a scene being worried about it, to make him feel bad or scare him, so you laid down too, trying to mirror him, trying not to think of the small distance between you two. Looking up into the sky, you were dizzy, and there was the sun scintillating through the rustling leaves, and billions of shades of green in all different states of illumination.

You laid there for a couple minutes, a completely restless and futile attempt at relaxation. He looked so scared. Did he understand what you wanted? Did he want it too? Would he ever ask on his own? You sat up again, hugging your knees as you watched all the life going by in the field ahead.

You turned your whole body around that you were facing him, lying on your hip and supporting yourself with one arm as you looked down at him. He didn’t look quite as shaken up as you felt he might be, or as you were from the itching desire to be closer. His eyes again were closed, you almost wondered if he was sleeping. But the sound of your movements got his attention enough, this time his eyes fluttered open gently, and he met your gaze with a sweet, closed mouth smile that you couldn’t help but match. From somewhere over your head, a butterfly came and circled clumsily, both your eyes followed it until it - you gasped - landed on the crown of his hair.

“Don’t move! It landed on you!” You half-shouted, not wanting to scare it away, and his expression widened in surprise. “Oh, that’s wonderful, I wish I had a camera!” Norman was frozen, even trying not to breathe too hard, and looked up as far as he could. It was a brilliant orange creature against the backdrop of his dark hair, smattered with black spots, edged in white, it flexed it’s fan-shaped wings open-closed, open-closed, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the loveliness of it. You inched closer and reached over slowly, trying not to frighten it away, holding your hand out, thinking that maybe if you were gentle enough it might crawl on your finger but - too close! The butterfly took flight again, bouncing aimlessly away on the air. “Aww no, I scared it away, damn it!” You were disappointed, but laughed as you said it.

“Was it really on me? I couldn’t see!” He asked, and you nodded down at him, smiling. And your heart started beating fast, because you had moved pretty close in trying to get the butterfly, closer and more intimate here lying down than you had ever felt before. Maybe you had been physically closer, but here, lying on the blanket, his flushed and smiling face below you, you could just lean in and kiss him for the first time right there. You pictured yourself doing it. Your face fell, unable to smile convincingly so flustered as you were, so hesitant. Norman caught the change in mood, his face matching your seriousness, his eyebrows pinched just a bit in concern, a question in his eyes.

“Norman, I want to kiss you…” You murmured, and his face took on the same flat neutrality of terror as before as you spoke: “Norman, can I kiss you…?”

For a few seconds, there was no answer, no reaction, just the same deer-in-headlights look on his face, and you felt a moment of piercing rejection through your heart. You pulled away just barely, feeling pained, although you were still watching, still waiting for him to say anything.

Almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

“Really?” You breathed, halfway disbelieving. But he nodded again, whispered “yes” so softly he might as well have just mouthed the word. Now your heart was racing in your chest, the blood was rushing in your ears, the sound of pure excitement, as you looked from his eyes to his mouth, brown eyes to his lips, slightly parted…

You moved in, stroked the side of his hair that was combed nicely behind his ear, placing your palm flat next to his head and bracing your weight on your hand as you leaned in, bridging the distance, closing your eyes until finally, you made contact, pressing your lips to his, soft and warm and unmoving, and stayed there for seconds that felt like minutes with glorious fire burning in your chest, until you puckered your lips slightly as you pulled away, the small, wet sound of suction between you.

You made just enough distance between you that you could see the dazed, glassy-eyed look on his face, and you felt the shuddering, trembling breath he let out against your lips. You searched his eyes, and when you moved to kiss him again, this time he lifted his head to meet your lips and kissed you back, clumsy at first before he caught onto the rhythm - kissing, pulling, suction, breathing. He unfolded his arms beneath you, and you felt his arm go around you, palm flat against your shoulder blade as he stroked your back softly up and down; his other hand came up to your face, knuckles brushing against your cheek, before his fingers went to comb through your hair, fingertips brushing your scalp then carding through to the ends, creating a delightful frisson sensation until his hand found its rest at the back of your head. You felt comfortable to let your weight lean into him a bit, your chest pressed warm against his, and it freed your own hand to go to his face, feeling the ridge of his cheekbone, poky stubble just underneath the skin, the motion of the sharp edge of his jawline as your lips glided over each other, breaths intermingling in the space between you. the sensations raking up brilliant sparks of pleasure that exploded in your chest, lighting the delicious warm ache of hunger throughout your body that made you press yourself into him more. Until gently, you broke away for rest, to catch a full breath, and you saw him follow you up, wanting and needing more, until he realized you were pulling away and let his head fall back, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes, shining kiss-swollen lips as he took deep, heavy breaths.

“Are you… Are you sure you’ve never kissed anyone else before?” He asked breathlessly, dreamily, with a smile.

It was all you could do to laugh and kiss him again, and again, and again.

#lol #proud reader insert enjoyer but now that its on my main im trembling in fear of the cringe police and also of my writing abilities #oh well i hope u enjoy<333333333 #norman bates x reader #highly unedited #and i tried so very hard to keep it under 2k but failed its coming out jutst over 3k LOL

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reel-fear · 15 days

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Honestly, every single time the whole 'poppy playtime is a bendy rip-off' stuff ever shows up I find it all extremely unconvincing and silly.

For one thing, rip-off usually is meant to imply that it's a cheap lazy copy of a better more polished thing, and uh. Sorry but even from chapter 1? Poppy Playtime is a better game than Bendy, it has a simple but understandable story, the game manages to be thrilling, creepy, and very intense at times... I mean that Huggy chase in the vents ALONE puts it way above Batim for me.

I mean BATDR had the most slow stupid chase I've ever seen [and every other encounter with the ink demon is text telling u he's there and then a timer goes down and u get jumpscared] and batim's chases were either silly or just not nearly as theatric or terrifying as that.

When making the vent sequence I mean not only is it absolutely horrifying to realize how fast Huggy is in there but also it's so theatric and cool? The fact that you round a corner after thinking you escaped only to see a terrifying animation of that thing crawling toward you is awesome! I wish Bendy had stuff like that!

And all the stuff it shares with Bendy are generic things Bendy ripped from other horror games/media anyways. I'm not saying Poppy Playtime isn't inspired by Bendy I for sure think it is but Bendy is such a generic story that somehow fails to do tropes 100 other horror games have done any comparison only makes Poppy Playtime look better.

"It has employees being sacrificed for their company" That is not a concept Bendy invented, literally look at any of the sci-fi horror series Bendy is very inspired by. This is literally a twist in the original Alien.

"It has a scary woman forcing you to do tasks for her" Once again, not a concept Bendy invented, a scary mysterious person forcing you to do fetch-quests is a concept found in tons of horror media. And at least Poppy Playtime gave you a chase with her and let you defeat her, look at poor malice. She's barely on screen for more than 10 minutes before she gets stabbed.

"It has a cult worshipping the monster" This is something tons of horror games and media have done too. I mean In The Tall Grass has a guy who worships a giant magical rock in the middle of a grass maze, Bioshock [which Bendy has only been taking more and more direct inspiration from while failing to grab any of the compelling parts] also had a lot of themes of religion and cult-ish behavior, almost every horror media franchise has at one point done a cult thing.

Bendy couldn't even come up with a reason Sammy worships the ink demon, the best motivation we've ever gotten is just that 'he's crazzyyyy the ink made him insaneeee'. Who is the cheap rip-off here?

At least Poppy Playtime gave their cultist a motive for worshipping the monster + a proper boss fight that feels intense and looks awesome! Bendy didn't even let you kill Malice [she got stabbed in front of you and then just collapsed on the floor how thrilling] meanwhile you get to kill three of the villains in Poppy Playtime and the gameplay and action in those scenes have only gotten better as the game went on.

I mean Sammy walks into a room and goes "AAA SCARY I'M BEING MURDERED" then later shows up and for NO REASON sees a normal human man and assumes it's the ink demon before once again someone else kills him for you. In Poppy Playtime you defeat Catnap as he floods the world with this horrible nightmare-inducing gas that intensifies the color palette and his design. Fight off versions of him that are illusions that you need your flare gun for, then watch in a wonderful animation as he mistakes the monster for his savior before getting killed by it, in a brutal way I might add, which game are we accusing of being cheap, lazy garbage again?

I just find this argument to be people who Really Really need to find a reason to hate Poppy Playtime which I think is silly. The devs being weird, shady people is already enough reason to dislike the game, you don't need to invent reasons why secretly every part of the game is malicious or bad. But esp when I see Bendy fans saying they don't support Poppy Playtime or dislike it bc of its devs or even saying its cringe ummmm.

I have bad news about the fact Bendy's devs are worse and it took not one, but TWO over an hour long videos to cover it all. Plus the Bendy games are just the worse games in every aspect, if I could sell my batim copy for a copy of Poppy Playtime I wouldn't hesitate at all.

Saying this as a bendy fan, we have no right to be super judgy towards Poppy Playtime. If Poppy Playtime is embarrassing cringe, Bendy is too and is way more embarrassing of an interest. We shouldn't spread misinformation just because we all want to hate Poppy Playtime, you can dislike Poppy Playtime without making up a bunch of nonsense to justify it.

Honestly seeing people just blatantly be unfairly mean to Poppy Playtime only makes its critics look worse and makes it hard to take any backlash to the games seriously. Because surprise surprise if you spread misinformation to make a point people will quickly stop listening to Anything you have to say bc they won't trust you're telling the truth anymore.

#feel free to reblog but Im not gonna tag this its way too rambley at least for my taste to go in the main tags #ramblez #also man can I say I didnt want to make this post super long but theres so many other points I could make in poppys favor #the fact we got to see the hour of joy and it was terrifying we dont even know if joey actually killed anyone anymore #the gameplay itself is more diverse and fun then batim which is a walking simulator that pretends to have fighting n stealth mechanics #at least Poppy n Missys friendship gives u a reason to care for missys safety before shes put in danger #Missy can actually express unlike Boris who sits there looking cute with no proper expressions until he gets yoinked and ur supposed to car #bc he was uh adorable? And therefore you spend an entire chapter tryna get him and get an extremely bad boss fight in return-#also soundtrack wise I like poppys tracks more theyre unique and fun and you can tell which part of the game they come from #bendy has so many dramatic reveal stingers and tracks that are really hard to tell which part of the game they come from #bertrums boss fight has my favorite theme bc its so specifically crafted for him and unique and meanwhile Norman has one of the worst imo #a lot of Bendys soundtrack if I played it for you right now it would be hard to guess where its from bc it all kinda sounds the same #the reveal music for the machine for bendy land for heavenly toys for alices domain all sound the same x_x #its just so frustrating but yeah my point is can we all stop making up new reasons to shit on poppy playtime its just kinda dumb #it feels less like actual criticism and at this point just feels like elaborate justification for cringe culture which I hate #okay thats it bye sorry this is 10 pages long-

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