motherwrit-blog

[motherwrit-blog]

consequentson:

Neither did he.  Dylan searched Norma’s face briefly for an answer he knew he wouldn’t find, before guilt made him look away. He hadn’t meant to blurt any of it out – Norman’s illness, their past… shit… it was all sort’ve taboo. They just didn’t talk about it. Norman, they needed to, obviously, but… it wasn’t nice of him to bring it up the way he had, and he knew it. Wringing his fingers in his lap, Dylan wondered for the millionth time if it was even slightly reasonable to believe he could have done things differently… he undoubtedly should have, but… considering his relationship with Sam, his own smaller stature when he was younger… standing up to him had never felt like an option back then. And on the odd occasions he’d tried to, well – Sam had always made sure to leave his mark, stark reminders when he looked in the mirror of why it was a bad idea. Small marks on his face and a scar on his hip left to this very day.

– But if he’d ever actually succeed in standing up to Sam… if he’d been the one to put a stop  to the man – would Norman have been okay…?

“Sorry, Norma,” he finally muttered. He looked at his lap, then the carpet, gaze restless before he reached out to the arm of the couch and pushed himself up, standing. The nightmares that’d begged the question were just that: nightmares. Not exactly a good reason to bother Norma with these things. Hypotheticals, what ifs… none of that mattered. What was done was done, and shit had happened that none of them could ever take back. 

“Is there, um…”  He cleared his throat and cast his eyes around the room as he mirrored his mother, putting his hands in his pockets, too.  “– Is there something I can help you with? Y’know, while I’m here…?”  A shitty attempt at a change of conversation, but a genuine offer nonetheless. Norma was pretty tough, but he was just a little sturdier and taller – if she needed him  to reach anything, lift anything, he’d be happy to help… if she bought the swift change of topic.

               This wasn’t a topic she’d like to end on with her son after being told he’d be leaving her. He wouldn’t be gone forever, he wouldn’t be far away--- but there was a tug. Motherly persistence. She wanted to cling to him with the smothering only mothers can get away with. Keep him here, with her, because she had come to enjoy his company more than she ever expected to. Their relationship was molten until now. One of the good things to come out of this Hellish place...  

                 ❝ It’s -- it’s alright. ❞  Her lips pressed as she waved her hand in the air, accepting his apology without demanding too much attention for it. He’s always been so blunt, like her. Norma smiled as she paused in the flurry of her busywork, casting him a look of fondness before picking back up again.  ❝ It’s good to talk about these things sometimes. Like a--- a reality check. ❞ Another, less hopeful smile crossed her and she neared him with a careful kind of softness. He didn’t mean her any harm, she knew that. She also knew he didn’t want to turn the conversation into an argument she would soon try to whisk away in a flurry of blindness and doubt. 

                 She didn’t particularly need anything. Help was uncalled for in this moment and yet she couldn’t bring herself to dismiss him. She wanted him here, even just for conversation.  ❝ I could use someone to help me change the linens down at the motel. ❞  She gestured with a forefinger toward the door.   ❝ ...Unless Emma needs you. I wont keep you. ❞

[motherwrit-blog]

motherwrit:

my three other actively SAD blogs

@lizardsbrain

@clucktongue​

@thinkspink​

[motherwrit-blog]

Norman Bates: Ladies Man.

[motherwrit-blog]

godsrequiem:

@motherwrit LMS!

         “OH….. thank you, soooo much, for letting me in… I don’t usually LIKE to do house calls, but the church asked that I go around, because of—— you know, lack of funds, lack of churchgoers, etcetera, etcetera….” He gritted his teeth & furrowed his brows as he nervously sorted through his briefcase, looking up at the other every once in a while to make sure she wasn’t growing IMPATIENT with him. “…I’m really, really sorry, though—— today’s been a rough day; I’m a little bit of a MESS.”

                Norma’s smile was genuine despite the mild inconvenience he brought with a knock on the door. She wasn’t much of a church-goer anyway, she hadn’t been ever since she was a girl and any prayer or call for help while sobbing on her knees was a call out of desperation... She felt a pang of guilt for that, whether or not her faith was still intact.    ❝ Of course, it’s no bother. ❞ Her hand waved in the air as she let the door hung open wider, allowing him inside.  ❝ Please!! Come inside and take a seat--- make yourself at home. ❞ Another smile bloomed, gesturing toward the open entryway of her living room.  ❝ Can I get you something to drink? ❞

[motherwrit-blog]

I love you. I always will, whether you’re here or not.

[motherwrit-blog]

ooc — I’m starting up my Little Miss Mary again if you want to go take a look HERE

[motherwrit-blog]

ooc --- I’m starting up my Little Miss Mary again if you want to go take a look HERE

[motherwrit-blog]

Bates Motel | 3.04 vs. 5.02 + for @unlikely-alliance

[motherwrit-blog]

the bell jar (1963), sylvia plath

[motherwrit-blog]

ooc: i want to bring back an old OC but she’s such an evil brat

[motherwrit-blog]

[motherwrit-blog]

ooc: i actually had a dream last night that norma and alex were walking/hiking through the woods and like they started getting flirty and norma kinda lead a little game of tag for alex to come find her and it ended with heavily making out in dewy grass surrounded by beautiful trees and birds until they were disturbed by campers and then i woke up sad because we’ll never get to see that and their time together was ungodly UNGODLY SHORT

[motherwrit-blog]

that is ridiculous

[motherwrit-blog]

[motherwrit-blog]

I’m part wood nymph. I require mountains and warm, dense patches of moss to thrive.

[motherwrit-blog]

temperfi.

                jumping with a start in the aftermath of a bloodcurdling shriek, he launches forward, a protesting creak of the kitchen chair following as he shoves it from the direct path of his course and makes his way to her. he slows to a stop at her side, hand erring on the side of caution as it propels forth for a closer look. ❛ —–c’mere, c’mere; l - let me see it. ❜ he protests in spite of any objections she may vocalize, loose grasp encircling her lithe wrist and pulling it forth to look closer under the microscope of naked eye. he manipulates the skin with the pad of his thumb to vet the origin of the crimson pool. ❛ eh—– ‘s just a nick. ❜ he confirms, mirroring words from a previous occurrence seemingly many moons ago. he tows her forward by the arm toward the kitchen sink, dismissively flicking the faucet handle forward with his unoccupied hand and watches as the faucet convulses into action with a gentle stream of water. he gauges her expression with an air of caution, fingers kneading her own in a soothing fashion before pulling her a little closer into his immediate proximity, guiding her finger into the direct trajectory of the stream.  ❛ —–y - you a’right ? ❜ he asks reticently, anticipating any pushback for which she is known.

                 The unanticipated outburst of vocalized pain caused a frustrated and despairing flush across the pale of her cheeks.  Especially after drawing the attention from the Sheriff once again, when it was unwanted---- at least in this moment. Norma had to occasionally admit to herself that there was a gradual longing. But she couldn’t bring herself to focus on it being anything else, just a misplaced need for attention. A common and painful occurrence. Nothing else.  

                  The woman drew in a breath, finally giving off a strong and sincere bout of grief as her pale gaze met him directly with bare and exposed distress. Not for Norman’s sake, but for her own. She could feel the pulse beat heavily in the bloodied portion of her hand, especially as he grasped it tightly with his larger, warmer ones. It was a scrape, nothing needing anything more than some antibacterial and a bandage. But she wanted to be nursed...  that thought alone made her protest ever so stubbornly.  ❝ I- I’m fine. It’s okay, Alex.  ❞ The water soothed the heat of her finger but not in her cheeks so she gingerly pressed her chin into the collar of her shirt, much like a turtle to their shell. 

                 ❝ It’s okay. ❞ This breath was a firmer one but she still didn’t return his gaze until the fire she felt underneath her skin subsided to the dull spark that was always there when catching sight of him.  ❝ I’ll just---- ❞ She reached across him with the opposite hand, snagging the damp washcloth that would next prepare to fasten to her hand. Quick fix, nothing to it---- she smiled meekly in preparation to move away, hearing the approach of her son down the opposite hall. 

[motherwrit-blog]

ooc: i love the guy crying at the strip club like same