grotesque , but effective @meagertm-blog - Tumblr Blog

…No one really runs away from anything. It’s like a private trap that holds us in like a prison. You know what I think? I think that we’re all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever get out. We scratch and we claw, but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch. Sometimes… we deliberately step into those traps.

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

babeimgonnaleaveu

“Sometimes just one time can be enough…”

Psycho (1960) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

leztat-deactivated20230701

I think we’re all in our private traps, clamped in them, and none of us can ever climb out. We scratch and claw… but only at the air, only at each other, and for all of it, we never budge an inch.

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

bloodybrahms

Psycho (1960)

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

allhaiillou

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

netflixandleavemealone

Psycho (1960), dir. Alfred Hitchcock

I think I must have one of those faces you can’t help believing.

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

delirous.

there is nothing much this house could offer anymore. not that it had much to give anyways. all she could remember ( if she willed to ) was that tension grew wrought between her mom even more than it had been back at her real home. she remembers terrors there too even back when she was a teenager begrudgingly sleeping in an all too quiet night. maybe this house was built on misfortune torturing every patron that resided here. this home didn’t call her back , but something still landed her there. where she sits now … waiting.

she is not so much stuck than she is being held here. not like a captive and not in a place where the decision is too hard to make. there is a reason she’s here and she so willingly came to it , but she doesn’t plan on leaving. wouldn’t that only prolong this pain ? the echoed words don’t ring a bell for her. she doesn’t realize that it is her speaking. ❛ where do you begin ? and do you end ? ❜ still , she looks everywhere around the house except for who is real. this has become her world. the questions shroud her in the fact that nothing around her can be real.

sun rays from the open door blacklight norman as he moves forward and takes another precautious glance around the living area . steps cause a melody of creaks until he sits on the sofa with toes curling against the rug . his head drops . ‘ you HELPED me once . do you remember helping me ? ’ smile droops just out of view . his voice cracks . ‘ i wah - want to return the favor . ’

#delirous #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʙᴜʀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ v . old

delirous.

she sits silent. as silent as the bushes try to be outside in the bustling wind. silent like always sitting on a rickety chair at the dining table. it’s foundation may be loosened , but with her stiffened body it may survive for a few years more. more than her. sitting at the edge of a light from above where her hand is the only thing that appears. the hand sits there atop the table stiff for who knows why. silent and still. someone can die allowing all that quietness to consume them. being devoured by thoughts that weren’t even within them from the beginning. nothing comes to her mind since now her original thoughts have become a splurge.

the shouting , the whispering , and the precarious noises that sprout from all corners of the house play out like an annoying song that she’s too bothered to change. she’s just waiting for it to end. as stoic as she’s become she’s lost the ability to notice things. whether it be small or big , she doesn’t take notice to the uninvited visitor in her home even though her door always remains unlocked.

their presence grows static raised hairs on the back of her neck which she notices. there is someone here , but she can’t tell who. ❛ you are from the walls. ❜ the sudden tick of her head makes blonde hair jostle just above her shoulders. she looks up and into space. empty space. ❛ i know you have come to visit me and i wonder … when are you going to take me ? does the wallpaper stick ? ❜

‘ miss hall ? ’ his knuckle raps against the flaking paint on the door of her home . ‘ are you here ? ’ a second knock causes the door to creak , its hinges loosely holding it against the frame . age had taken a toll on previously innocent features . lovely smiles had turned cold . he plead insanity . frozen grin stuck to his face as he enters and kneels to untie dainty, mid century dress shoes . ‘ you left your door open . . . ’

there remained a softness , a purity , in his words ; everything had aged but his voice . he stands back up and takes a second to inspect the area first for a light switch , and then any sign of her . her voice was the same , too . the more things changed , the more they stayed the same . norman pauses as her words seem to bounce and never hit him directly . ‘ i think you may be stuck , connie . ’

#sorry i just read our last thread??? first of all didnt cringe at my own writing #but fuck there's so many parallels and so hes just gonna quote hER thanks #also older norman bc fuck it #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ʙᴜʀʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅ v . old

jeffreycombs

Anthony Perkins and John Gavin as Norman Bates and Sam Loomis in Psycho (1960) dir. Alfred Hitchcock

#ɴᴏᴛ ϙᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀs sᴀɴᴇ ᴀs ᴡᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ch . norman

could i keep both herbert and norman active at the same time . . .

RESURGNCE.

grey SMILES softly, watching as the gracious man places his luggage down. this place isn’t the HAMPTONS, but it has WONDERFUL service so far. ❝ oh, that’s GREAT! thank you… i’m starving, y’know… long trips and snacks from the gas station just really AREN’T that fillin’. ❞ said the louisianan, still eyeing the handsome man.

a brief glance is thrown to a small clock sitting on the bed stand before it flashes back to his guest . ‘ you ought to gah - get on your way then . i hah - heard that the stah - storm’s gonna get re - reh - really BAD tonight . ’ hesitation course through his entire body with each step . he turns to place the keys beside the clock instead of handing them to him on his own . another few steps and he stood back in the doorway . ‘ i’ll be in the office if you need any - anything . ’

#resurgnce #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ɪᴍᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛ﹐ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇ﹖ v . main

KRUEGERHOLIC.

shredded innocence , cheap like the peeling nail polish of manicured hands & stockings ripped on spider legs that crisscross at the thighs . she’s the disgraced picture of CHERUBIM TORN to pieces , a succulent apple full of worms , draped in crimson . ❛ do you think all girls are naturally mean , normie ? ❜

he visible winces at the nickname , hands wringing together in a tight grasp . nails crawl further up and now dig into the opposite wrist as he forces a smile . the keys on the board behind him rattle as he steps to place his back against the wall ; the more space between them , the better . ‘ not - not inordinately . . . ’

#kruegerholic #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ɪᴍᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛ﹐ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇ﹖ v . main

FINGERKNIVED.

Icy eyes glitter, basking in the fear that Norman provides ( What’s wrong, Norman? ). The hint of tears that threaten to roll down that youthful face is not missed, either. What a whiney little brat! A hand splays across striped sweater, unmistakable and metal: bronze fingers give way to silvered BLADES, reaching far past where normal nails would be.

❝ O-oh, I’m real! ❞

Charred skin and rotted teeth lean closer still, encroaching on the space of clear, youthful complexion ( fuck him! ). Time for the KICKER.

❝ Let’s ask your mother! See what she has to say! ❞

an audible gasp escaped from quivering lips , the sound of metal scraping against each other ringing loud in his ears and rattling down in his stomach. his eyes flicker down to claws before they flutter shut . was that rust or BLOOD ? he tries to take one last deep breath but it comes out as a wheeze just as dark locks are throw back and forth . norman vigorously shakes his head while it sinks down to avoid his glare or whatever was to come next . ‘ please . . . leave me a l o n e ’ he’s grown dizzy from the intense shaking of his head and stumbles back a step . he can’t help but open his eyes for a split second . he feels SICK .

#fingerknived #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ɪᴍᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛ﹐ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇ﹖ v . main

DELIROUS.

there was nearly a inquisitive furl to her brow as he speculated that he liked being alone in such a place , but she remembers where she’s going. home to be alone. she understands. being alone in a place so vast can keep you away from those you could hurt. even if the hurt wasn’t intentional , there are things the human body does without your knowing. if only she could remember those things. but norman isn’t lost. no , his alone is different from hers. perhaps that was one thing they didn’t mirror. ❛ i think you may be stuck , norman. ❜ there’s a near sympathetic twinge to the corner of her lips. ❛ like a wasp getting stuck in amber sap oozing from that big , old tree. ❜

‘ do - do you know what GUMPTION means ? i didn’t for the longest time . mah - mother says i have none . that i have no gumption and that’s why i cah - can’t leave . she sah - says that knowing that SHE is the reason i stay , nah - not because of my lack - lack of gumption . ’ gaze wonders if only for a moment , flashing up to one of the stuffed birds perched atop a shelf of books . claws were nailed into the stained oak . even given wings , it was s t u c k . ‘ i don’t even know where i would go . . . ’

#delirous #ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs ᴛᴏ ᴀɴsᴡᴇʀ ғᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀɪᴇғ ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɴᴇʟɪɴᴇss . in character #ɪᴍᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛ﹐ ᴡᴀs ʜᴇ﹖ v . main