#AND THEN FUCKING BATES MOTEL

[leprosycock]

you wouldnt happen to know any media with good manipulative older brother incest would you?

my chemical romance

[jetsteelyourheart]

Yay to be tagged by @retiredficwriter!!

Rules: Make a poll with five of your all-time favorite characters and then tag five people to do the same. See which character is everyone's favorite!

Oh god, only 5? In all media ever??? This is gonna be hard. Similar to my Tag-Buddy, I'm forcing myself to choose one character per media max, one in each category:

Book, Web Show, Animation, Film, TV show, Video Game, Anime/Manga, Theater

Ok, so its a top 8. I needed 1 per category. Please don't break my heart (IDEK who my fave fave is)

Top 5 Fav Characters of All Time

tagging @ebbilayart and @doctahaphra and anyone else who feels like it

[sluttylittleslashers]

I wish we could hold the axe in phototopia that would be perfect

[shinelikethunder]

the curse of becoming able to recognize that ONE fucking motel on sight

[thedailydescent]

An oldie but a truth(y?)(ie?) truthey: Rihanna slayed as Marion Crane

!!!! I swear we talked about this on my old blog Rose so I hunted through your blog to find proof of this and YES it's right here we had such good opinions even then <3

send me controversial or unpopular opinions and I'll tell you if I agree or disagree 🐸 ☕️

[redscrawl]

I made a bates motel edit because why not, we all die might as well be a fool while i’m alive. Ignore the water marks i only had youtube clips 😭😭😭

[normanbased]

fucked up that book!Norman was born with an innate love for his body, and he only started to hate himself and feel dysmorphic after his mother beat the self-love out of him so hard that he developed neurological damage. That like, she convinced him his body was so disgusting to the point that looking in any mirror made him physically sick and caused his vision to blur — I mean, I get the point of Psycho isn’t necessarily supposed to be finding total blame in a single person, but it’s literally all Norma’s fault

And I know I keep mentioning mirrors and it’s getting old and it’s been said before, and I never shut up about that one scene from Psycho II, but I can’t help it. Like, does he even actually see himself in that scene? Or is it just wavy lines that he can’t interpret? Less so a metaphysical confusion about himself and what he’s trying to be, but an actual literal failure to recognise what he sees in the mirror as being human, or being anything at all.

Idk mirrors are just so important to Psycho as a franchise and represent so many things, and like, the fact that for Norman they started out as a vessel of self-love, before becoming something so hateful that they don’t even work for him anymore — it’s beyond what mirrors represent for everyone else; a reflection of the subconscious self, or a signal to the audience that one character is a foil of another — Other characters are permitted to see themselves, or to have the ability to look inward (even if they rarely try). But when Norman wants to understand, to see that inner self, the mirror quite literally shows him nothing; or worse, a distortion that is so debilitating that it makes him ill — and it’s been that way for him since childhood! What the fuck was he supposed to do to get better on his own? How was something like that ever going to be fixed for him?

Anyways I’m just rambling :P ✌️

[juniperhillpatient]

he has big sad blue eyes. his parents are brother & sister. he is capable of running a man over in cold blood with his car. he is the most loving husband & father to his brother’s ex. I didn’t say a name but he popped into your head <3

[jen-with-a-pen]

actually sobbing and yearning and pining what the FUCK

Hideout (1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Puppy, (see premise post or series)

Summary: An ultra-shy man named Grant arrives with various friends to your family-owned motel. He opens up slowly over the months...and grows a fantastic beard. 🤭

While this part has no mature situations, this series will be 18+ only. MINORS DNI. This is mostly pure setup for the smut in every future chapter. Your media consumption is your responsibility; please choose for yourself if these matters trigger you. If so, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this work is not it! WC ~2k

He first arrives with only his friend—two fit fellas, one white, one black. They pay in cash, share a double room. The most information you get is Tom Smith, the more open of the two, joking that you’ll have to excuse Grant’s shyness.

Grant doesn’t seem to respond to his own name.

He’s a beefy blond, and your impression is the man doesn’t need to have a lot going on up top to get by in life. You do try not to judge, though. Your job is more about keen observation and recognizing the needs of your guests.

These two guests need privacy. They aren’t unfriendly, but they are not chatty. They go as quickly as they came. One night. The room is slept in, but they were clean enough.

The next time they show up they need three rooms, but you only have two available. Tom and Grant bunk up again, and a couple are with them who do not come into the office. The woman has beautiful auburn hair that she covers with a ball cap, and her very tall beau—whose hand she holds—shields himself in far more clothing than necessary this time of year.

They all sleep (you assume) during the day and only socialize at night when the other guests aren’t around.

Not that the party is loud; they simply seem more at ease when it’s harder to see. They stay three or four days, leaving rather suddenly early one night after paying for the time already.

Sporadically, this continues.

Once it’s only the couple. She is very reserved and he is very awkward, but again nice enough. They stay for nearly two weeks, enjoying hikes in the area, always holding hands. The woman relaxes significantly. It’s quite lovely to see.

Mister and Misses Durham, you know them as. They don’t always respond by name either.

Another visit makes five guests with the addition of a beautiful young woman. Her hair is cropped and bleach blond, and she is by far the most at ease.

It’s this visit that you realize they are just staying in their rooms during the day not sleeping, and you find the karaoke machine to take to Tom’s room.

He’s thrilled, thank goodness, because you don’t normally offer up activities to those who don’t ask about them, but Tom bangs on the doors of the other two (you think) couples so they can join him.

You’re about to leave when he asks you to do a duet with him.

Grant throws out that Tom enjoys Marvin Gaye. It’s the most you’ve heard him say, ever.

“I do,” Tom agrees, “but I don’t mess with the master.”

So you have the idea to sing Marvin Gaye—the song—with Tom as Charlie Puth and you as Meghan Trainor.

It’s quite a lot of fun, belting as best you can, finding Grant’s intense gaze on you for the lyrics:  I’m like a stray without a home… I’m like a dog without a bone…

Just as quickly, however, you have to go back to the front desk. Duty calls and all.

You make sure they know the machine is all theirs for as long as they want. Their rooms are too far down the line of the building to hear if they do enjoy it for long, but you get no complaints about noise. You hope for the best.

Later that night, Grant comes by the office, carrying the machine with a smirk on his face and the most genuine appreciation on his lips. He has a lovely deep voice you never knew about.

He just talks to you.

It’s all superficial conversation about the area, the weather, what activities you like on your days off, but even that seems a struggle for him.

Tom was not kidding. His friend is extremely shy. He has trouble thinking up casual questions. He can’t look you in the eye until responding, and he doesn’t give more than a few words in answer to anything.

You laugh--you have to—when Grant asks if he can walk you to your door, which…is ludicrous because you live in the house a whopping fifty meters past the main motel. Your family has owned and run this place for three generations. You’ve walked that path your whole life.

“I like walking,” he shrugs, though from the sheer muscles on him, he does way more than just walk. “I was gonna do a lap or two anyway.”

“Well, I have to wait for Clark to show up, but—“ you look him up and down “—okay.”

Grant is so sweet but so stiff. He holds himself with purpose when actively thinking, but you catch him having these distant moments. He withers like a violet, a shell that’s too small for his big body. He seems lost and lonely.

You’re glad to do whatever keeps him company. Your goal for the night is to make Grant smile as much as humanly possible, but that’s difficult when he won’t let you know anything about him.

Twenty minutes later, Clark, a local stoner kid who hardly looks up from his phone, waltzes in, stepping around Grant like a wall that’s always been there and throwing a “hey, man” out with zero regard for a response. Classic Clark. That’s why he’s on night shifts.

So you grab your bag and let Grant hold the door open for you.

Maybe you’ve been watching the Durhams too much when they come around, but you feel a compulsion to hold his hand. You don’t, obviously, because you only just heard this guy speak for the first time today. It would also be incredibly awkward to hold Grant’s hand in the dead silence that follows on your way up the gravel path.

You’re so consumed by figuring out what to say next that you don’t notice till the beast is right there.

An elk walks right in front of you, taller than Grant. From this angle the animal blocks the entire view of your house it’s so big, and you jump back, slamming into your startled escort’s chest.

You both freeze as it moves slowly at a diagonal to the other side of woods, bringing it and its gigantic horns closer still.

It squawks like some sort of awful banshee and stamps huge hoofs. You throw your weight backward and spin to flee, clambering over Grant’s body.

Why you’re so scared, who knows; you should be used to the wildlife, but no creature has ever done this before.

The most shocking thing, however, is how strongly Grant tries to hold you immobile.

The harsh grip on your waist and the way he hisses through his teeth for you to stop should be your hint, but instead you cling to him harder, asking quietly if the animal is gone.

“Uh…” Grant tenses against you. “It’s…it’s just—“ he shudders when you wriggle “—yes, gone,” he bites out, pushing you away by the hips.

He takes a second to breathe, buries his hands in his pockets, and leans forward, gathering himself.

It was scary. That could have turned nasty very quickly. You were lucky Grant was there and calm…except he was sorta the reason you were distracted in the first place.

Finally composed, he sighs and motions forward. “Let’s get you home.”

Two months later, Grant’s initial five o’clock shadow has come in nicely.

You’ve learned the routine of their check-in. There’s only one room available, unfortunately, but if they stay more than two days, there should be another open.

Tom shrugs and offers a playful, “we’ll see. We go where the wind takes us.” He smooths his palm over a fresh fade at his nape and the sharp angles of his goatee.

“And you, I see, have stopped in for a cut with Terrence in town. He loves the three slices like that.” That's how the barber marks his work. Terrence's shop is very popular.

“It’s a good signature. Wish I could'a convinced this big lug to get a trim.” Tom elbows his friend who stares at his feet.

Grant runs his fingers through his golden locks and swallows. “Yeah, well, maybe next time.”

Without realizing what you’re doing, you stand on the rungs of your stool behind the counter and reach for his lusciously full beard.

“Don’t you dare get rid of this,” you chide, fingertips grazing the skin of his cheek beneath the course yet soft hairs.

You should apologize. You should let go and sit back down. You should professionally hand them their key and be done with it, but instead, you linger, watching his blue eyes darken with a primal devastation.

He’s prey caught in a cage.

You release Grant’s face with an awkward laugh and a shake of your head.

Tom makes his own, very knowing face, and winks.

“You should do that more. Touch him. He could use it.”

Grant clears his throat harshly and blushes, mumbling something about which room number you said they had and that he’ll bring the other bags from the car. He leaves. Tom takes the keys with another wink and a sassy tap on the hardwood.

“Thank ya, ma’am. We appreciate it.”

It’s about twenty minutes later when your pen rolls off the edge of the counter, you find a small duffle left where Grant stood.

“He was joking. It was a joke,” Grant blurts when he finds you standing there to give it back.

You just smile and say Tom isn’t wrong.

“So, if you ever just want a hug…” you mutter, taking a chance to scratch at his bearded chin again. “Not like you’re gonna hurt me.”

He looks back inside, as if seeking permission or checking to make sure his friend is still in the bathroom, singing in the shower.

Grant can’t seem to meet you halfway, but he does inch forward, struggling to word a simple ‘yes.’

The tentative embrace starts with only the top of his chest touching you, bent so his butt is out, no pressure on his hands at your shoulders, so you push a little more and a little more. You get close enough he needs to wrap his arms around you instead. He has to stand straight so his chin doesn’t poke your forehead. He whimpers slightly when your own arms encircle his tiny waist.

A few breaths later, he relaxes into a lovely full-body hug, his rough fingertips on your bare skin where your shirt bunched up. You’re both being human, no more, no less, tangled in simple comfort.

Grant tucks his face into your collarbone suddenly and squeezes, not so hard that it hurts but not gently either. The move tickles you with his beard, your hands pawing up his back as you giggle, and he whines like wounded prey.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you soothe. “I can be here, if you want, to hold. It’s okay.”

That has the opposite effect you intended, knocking him out of some soft reverie and launching him back a foot, a necessary but unwelcome distance.

Grant looks guilty, needy, and resigned as he thanks you for returning the bag and sees you out the door.

dividers by cafekitsune and firefly-graphics

A/N: This will be the shortest (probably) of all the parts, and yeah, we get into some smuttier moments pretty quickly... Stay tuned!

[Next Part: Sweet Baby]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes

[alternativeproject]

All the things that are cool and Interesting about bates motel ( Norma’s characterization, exploring her and Norman’s toxic codependent abusive relationship) are undercut by the goofy ass crime subplots. Specifically the way these drug cartel and human trafficking plotlines exist in dramas to bring edginess but not empathy. They’re being fully explored with empathy and compassion to those involved with/exploited by said crimes. It’s the way these shows bring in a sad exploited person of color for drama and then kill them off after they’ve made a white person sad. It’s gross and very common/normal for cop shows and crime dramas.

To watch the show explore sibling Incest, cycles of abuse, Norman’s whole thing with a fair amount of empathy toward Norman and norma, but throw around the term “Asian sex slave” makes it very apparent that the creators have a very limited scope of compassion.

The other problem with bates motel,and the psycho franchise as a whole, is the way they equate gender nonconformity with violence and sexual perversion. That’s the root of the bates story, that a boy raised without strong male role models will become too attached to his mother and if she’s clingy and nagging and all the worst things a woman can be, he’ll become something very wrong = a man who cannot function normally (sexually or otherwise) that dresses up as a woman. Bates motel also pairs all this with a Dissociative identity disorder diagnosis for Norman. I don’t know enough about the diagnosis as a whole to critique how it’s presented in bates motel, it doesn’t outright claim that having DID makes you a killer but Norman’s second personality is suggested to be the “side” most prone to violence as a means of problem solving. Not really a diversity win.

The one thing Bates motel does really well is flesh out Norma. She’s much more humanized and well rounded and her relationship with Norman is in turns sweet, slightly off, and deeply upsetting. She’s toxic and emotionally immature, she’s capable of change, she’s full of love, she was neglected and abused as a child, she still acts like a child, and all that together makes her a loving but wildly incompetent/emotionally abusive mother and that makes Norman who he is. Which is still a man who wears dresses and kills people hes sexually attracted to.

I suppose the transmisogyny is an unavoidable part of the psycho storyline, even if bates motel makes steps forward by making Norma a fallable human being rather than a caricature of the worst traits a Mother could have, the thing we as an audience are supposed to be alarmed by is Norman wearing his mother’s clothes and “becoming” her/losing himself.

[romana-after-dark]

Rooms on Fire: Something In The Night

Dark!Santiago Garcia x Fem!Reader

Dark!Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

Dark!William Miller x Fem!Reader

Dark!Benjamin Miller x Fem!Reader

Also: FishBen, and an assortment of other M/M relationships (no Millercest). Everyone is Bisexual

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Ben shows his true colors

Warnings and Content:

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

DUB CON MOSTLY but there WILL BE NON CON. Major character deaths, forced breeding, physical abuse, brainwashing, manipulation, violence, gore, alcoholism/addiction, BIG OLE BLASPHEMY WARNING like this cult appropriates a lot of religious themes and they call reader their Madonna, Santi is called the Pope, like all that stuff. However, this is a cult so I mean. It happens. None of it are my thoughts on religion or meant to make fun of religion or demonize religious people. Disgusting views on virginity. Attempted rape outside the boys. T*m warning. Age gap. Creepy terrible men. Non-reader rape, dub con, violence. Covert incest, massive mommy issues, sexual abuse all around, past grooming by parental figure. no CSA but the victim isn't much older. some Bates Motel type shit. I cannot properly warn you for everything, without just telling the story but consider this a major warning that there are dark dark themes. No one involved here is morally clean, and who you perceive as the good guy cannot be relied on. Don't come to my story and say im romanticizing these things until at least the story ends.

3.9k words

"Well, nothing is forgotten or forgiven When it's your last time around Well, I got stuff running 'round my head That I just can't live down When we found the things we loved Were crushed and dying in the dirt We tried to pick up the pieces And get away without getting hurt But they caught us at the state line Burned our cars in one last fight And left us running, burned and blind Chasing something in the night." ~Something In The Night, Bruce Springsteen.

Jonah lit his third cigarette of the day as he walked into the jail block, stumbling a bit as he turned the corner.

“Drunk already, Jonah?” Marcus was here, bright and early. Realistically, Marcus should have the head of the guard position, and Jonah had said as much but Beatriz said absolutely not. She knew she had Jonah under her thumb. Jonah tried to explain Marcus was trustworthy, that he wouldn’t do anything to endanger his daughter, but nothing.

“In my defense, it’s the same drunk as last night.” He flopped in is chair, pulling his hat over his eyes and crossing his arms as he leaned back. You’d think being Gods special fuck toy and being forced to participate in all night orgies meant not having to work in the morning, but somehow, it didn’t.

Marcus gave a sympathetic hum, but didn’t dwell on it. As much as Marcus knew Jonah hated, fucking hated the orgies, he knew he didn’t want to talk about it. Jonah had seen things he never wanted to, seen the 4 boys he’s known most of their lives having sex, sometimes with each other. It’s disgusting, and he tries not to see it.

Sometimes, as he’s having sex with Beatriz, a woman who forced him into sexual slavery and had his wife killed, who tried to have his daughter killed and hangs her safety over his head every day, he thinks it’d be better if he was dead. If he drank until he couldn’t anymore and fell asleep and never woke up. If he took out his shaving razor and sliced himself open.

But then there was Iris. He couldn’t leave her, Beatriz would almost certainly punish her. Right now, she was doing well. Training to be a house mother, which she liked, compared to other things. Beatriz was talking about marrying her to Frank, which was the last fucking thing Jonah wanted for his girl, to bring her into this house built on burnt carcasses and seal her fate. Jonah survived her for 20 years because he was compliant. Iris’s mouth would lead to her death.

So, for Iris, Jonah trekked on, getting by with obscene amounts of booze and sex. And Marcus. Marcus made the days bearable, long stretches where he could see Iris, longer times where she wouldn’t talk to him. Iris thought he cheated on her mom with Beatriz, that he had some grand roll here, and Jonah couldn't explain the truth. How could he tell his daughter that he’d been so pathetic to let this happen to him for 20 years?

“Jonah.”Marcus’s voice brought him back, a soothing low timber that always calmed Jonah’s nerves. Marcus was a man of few words, but his presence was a comfort. There was something comforting about him, something that put everyone around him at ease. He had a girl he loved too. Marcus’s wife died a few years ago, resulting in the girl being moved to the girls dormitories early, but that was longer than what Jonah had with Iris. All of 2 days alone before his infant was taken away and Jonah moved into the mansion permanently. Marcus adored his daughter, and she adored him in turn. He was a good dad, visiting as often as he was allowed, often finding reasons to go to the girls dormitory so he could “just happen to” run into her. When they did, she’d run up to him squeezing “daddy!!!!” and Marcus would scoop her into his arms. If Jonah saw Iris, many times she’d walk the other way. It depended on her mood.

“Sorry…” Jonah mumbles. “Kinda in my head.”

Marcus hums, sipping his coffee as well. “C’mon. Delilah is moving in in an hour.”

*

Unfortunately for Jonah, Will’s fiance was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life. When the courtship started and Delilah made a near daily appearance at the mansion, Jonah tried to stamp down the festering feelings in his stomach. She was sweet, a bright patch in the dreary world, and she treated him like an actual person. When her eyes were on him, he felt more than when Beatriz went down on him. Sparks he only felt while… well, while with Marcus, but that was different. Marcus was his friend, of course.

Delilah was someone Decon Tom introduced to Will, or rather, brought to his attention. She was devout, angelic, innocent beauty,

It all began as most bad things did for him, in the kitchen getting a snack. Delilah walked in, a skimpy little night dress and looking so, so pretty.

“Hi.” She smiles at him, making Jonah blush. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Ever since she moved in, Jonah’s been keeping his distance. It’s safer that way. He blushes and looks down at the bread he’s buttering, shaking his head. “I think it’s best.”

A step closer. “But I miss our late night talks…” 

“I don’t… I don’t think those are appropriate…”

Another. She’s next to him now, the heat of her body warming the chill of anxiety through him. This was dangerous. This was bad.

Very fucking bad.

Not bad enough to stop though.

When Delilah’s hand touched his back, it was all over for him.

For months they carried out their affair, sneaking in fuck sessions between wedding planning and Will making her scream loud enough Jonah could hear, forcing jealousy to bubble in his stomach because she always had to stifle her moans with him, hushed orgasmed pressed into pillows, bites marks for something to latch onto to. She was perfect. It started as somewhere to relieve the tension that had been building from- no one in particular, certainly not the bear of a man sitting across from him right now, staring him down.

“You need to get your shit together, Hanson.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Then why did I see Delilah leaving your room at 3 am?”

Jonah blushed, but in his slightly drunken state, he couldn’t help but find it a little funny. Was Marcus jealous? 

“Why do you care?”

Marcus slammed his hand down on the table, anger mixed with something a little more… desperate, on his face. “This is serious Jonah! We’re trying to do something here!”

Jonah narrowed his eyes at that, shoes squeaking against the cheap linoleum floors. “What the fuck do you mean?”

With a big sigh, Marcus pinched his brow. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Things are… going to change. Tom and I are planning something, and we need you to be a part of it. We can’t do this without you.” He looks up, brown eyes connecting directly with Jonah. “We’re killing Beatriz.”

The ensuing conversation devolved into an argument. Jonah didn’t have any loyalty to Beatriz, but there was no part of him that thought they could pull this off. So what if they killed her? Jonah had considered killing her many, many times over the years, but if she was dead, the hydra would grow 4 new heads. If they somehow managed to kill all 4 brothers, there were many still loyal to the Garcia family.

“You have to think of Iris, Jonah!” Marcus called after him as Jonah began to walk away, but this made him whip around to face his friend.

“I am!” He shouts. “Every fucking thing I do is for her! You think I wanna live like this? You think I enjoy those orgies and Breatiz using me every night? You think I like watching all this violence and the boys I’ve known since kids turn into monsters? No! But if I act out, she’ll kill her!” His voice cracks, eyes pleading for understanding. “She can’t suffer because of me, Marcus… Iris… is better than all this.”

Marcus’s shoulders relax, voice softening as he tries to convince him. “Jo, I know you’re scared. You don’t think I’m worried about my girl getting blowback? But, man I just- you gotta see what’s going on here. You really want Iris married to Morales? Is that what you want?”

“No! I- fuck, Marcus. It could be worse. Frank is a good guy-”

“He’s got no backbone, if she marries him she’ll be subjected to everything the others want! She’ll be raped and beat, just like Delilah!”

“SHUT UP!!!” With that, he was gone.

That night, Jonah was called to Beatriz’s room. This wasn’t unusual, but an itch was still in his head that something was overheard. That he was in trouble. That Marcus was. If Beatriz knew anything, she didn’t say. Instead, she had him pressed up against the wall, grinding her body on him.

“Come on, where;s your head at? You aren’t even kissing me, baby.” Beatriz complains, touching and kissing his lean body. 

Jonah tries to get into it, to slip away into his head, escape his body and not exist anymore as Beatriz pulled Jonah’s shirt over his head. Her touch was harsh, a burning grip but after 20 years she knew how to make him feel good. It wasn’t the touch he wanted, but it was what he had, so he took it. Beatriz fucked him with a strap on, Jonah’s hands gripping the sheet and feeling out of body. 

Some days, he could pretend it was something else. When things were going good, he could almost fool himself into believing he was in love. Beatriz was beautiful, and there was a reason she could build such a massive following. She had a way with people, a charisma Jonah couldn’t deny. Sometimes, he would feel they were a family, that Santiago, Frankie, Will, and Ben were their kids and things were good. 

Then he’d be at an orgy, and he can hear the boys he raised having sex.

Then Beatriz would fly off the handle, maybe because of coke or booze or just another manic episode.

Then they’d watch somebody burn alive while members of the cult danced to their screams.

Then Jonah would end up with his arm broken or a knife in his arm. 

Then he’d hear Frankie having sex with Santi, or Ben, and he’d have to try and stop then from hearing each other or keep Beatriz away from the rooms. Homosexuality wasn’t frowned upon in the same way it had been before, it wasn’t a sin, but it was considered unnatural. Something that was more or less harmless for fun (the orgies were a bisexual shitshow) but you weren’t supposed to be in love. Sex, marriage, it was intended for procreation.

In post-sex coitus, Jonah could push all this away. He could hold a beautiful woman in his arms and focus on the orgasmic bliss they’d shared. Beatriz hadn’t hurt him, this time.

“I think we should officially announce Iris and Frankie’s engagement tomorrow. Call a special assembly.”

After over 20 years of having to keep calm in these situations, Jonah’s blood pressure remained steady. Beatriz rested her head on his chest, after all. Sometimes Jonah wondered if that was on purpose.

Jonah thought back to everything he’d endured in this house, all the death and people beaten bloody he’s witnessed. A house full of sins and ghosts. Iris, she couldn’t be here. She would be subjected to the orgies that were just gang rape if you weren’t about it. She would have to walk the glass floors Jonah tiptoed on every day trying not to set off Beatriz. She’d be prime real estate for Santi and Ben, those little gremlins who took after their mother.

He couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t make her live like he had, a sex slve to the powerful.

“Yeah, I think we should.”

*

Marcus was having a picnic with his daughter in the field. It was his day off, and was spending every single minute with her. She a shy little thing so different from Iris. Iris was born without fear, Screaming to the world and she never stopped, not once. It was a miracle she was alive. Marcus’s kid was different. Subdued much like him, quiet, except for her tantrums. Jonah had never gotten to know her, he never could, much like Marcus had never gotten to know Iris. Outside of work, they didn’t spend much time together, they couldn’t. The less weaknesses to be exploited, the better. Hell, Jonah had even managed to convince Beatriz that he didn’t have much attachment to Iris, that Santi and Frankie, who he’d known since infanthood, were more important to him than his daughter. This was at the expense of Iris believing it too.

Marcus, however, loved the little girl he rescued. His adopted daughter was the entire world to him since his wife died, and he doted on her every chance he got. The child was considered a problem by most people, prone to meltdown and screaming when things didn’t go her way. This had gotten better the older she got, able to control those emotions better, but had resulted in her being very insecure. She was 12 now, and had no friends. The other girls called her weird. Marcus said she was just quiet.

This place would eat her alive.

When Marcus saw him watching, he frowned, telling something to his daughter. She looked at him with curious eyes, but said nothing as MArcus approached, out of earshot.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked, a mix of annoyance and concern. People weren’t supposed to know they were friends. 

Jonah’s eyes never left the girl. “I’ll do it. For her. For Iris.”

A moment of silence. “We’re doing this for you too, Jonah.”

*

It was Jonah’s job to get her away. The bedroom, of course, was secure, so Jonah was supposed to take her to a room where he was going to have a surprise for her. Tom would kill her, while other guards who’ve turned kill the four boys, framing Santi’s death as a suicide. Jonah tried to argue against Frankie’s death, but Marcus said he was too loyal, too dangerous. Delilah, Will’s fiance, would be announced by Decon Tom as the heir, and she would slowly dissolve the cult into a democracy. 

That was the plan, of course.

But when Jonah closed the door the room, leaving Beatriz wide-eyed and scared as Tom approached, he had the sinking feeling it wouldn’t be that easy.

And it wasn’t.

Marcus had underestimated Ben’s insanity on coke, what he’d do to protect his family. Naked and high as a kite, Ben acted as a Berzerker and went feral, tearing a guard apart who’d tried to kill Frankie. He literally tore out his throat with his teeth. Will was more rational, remaining calm in crisis as he fought off others, while Frankie and Santi grabbed the hidden guns, because of course they brought guns to an orgy. Everyone was killed, traitors and guest, not knowing who was there to distract them.

After leaving Beatriz to die, he found Delilah, begging her to run away, that they can find Iris and just fucking run. He’d protect her, he’d finally protect them both. 

Then Will and Ben, frantic and anxious, burst in the room to find Will’s fiance kissing Jonah, and it was all over.

Delilah was shot before Jonah could even move, square in the forehead as she gasped. Will wasn’t supposed to be alive. Now she wasn’t either.

*

Jonah walked into the dark jail room, several cells filled with people found complicit in the attempted uprising, in the death of the Divine Mother, the attempted assasination of the gods. Today was execution day, and first on the docket was Marcus.

The older man opened his eyes as he lay on the bench too small for his large body. In his 50’s, Marcus was a force to be reconned with, and could take Jonah easily in hand to hand. Unfortunately for him, Jonah had a gun.

No one could prove Jonah had anything to do with the uprising, and only Marcus, Tom and Delilah knew. Delilah and Tom were dead, and Marcus, of course, didn’t give anything in. Even under the torture Will delivered, he didn’t incriminate Jonah, even though thats what Will was looking for.

Will Miller wanted him dead, but Santiago was torn. Santi was absolutely batshit insane, but he did care about a few people. His brother, for one, his mom, and to some extent, Jonah. He knew he should have him killed as well, but held onto sentimentality. Jonah was the only dad he’d ever known. Like an angel and a devil, Will and Frankie argued Jonah’s fate until Santi made his decision.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m really fucking sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Marcus grumbled in turn, grunting as he sat up.

But Jonah was desperate, anxiety filling him day after day after day, a stumble to his steps from constantly drunkenness, a pain in his heart he couldn’t handle. He’d lost Delilah. He was losing Marcus. And worst of all now, Iris was going to suffer. “I’m gonna protect her. Your little girl, I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she’s safe, she’s happy, I’m gonna do right by you-”

“You can’t, Jo.” Marcus stood up, wrapping his large, thick hands around the bars. His eyes were intense on Jonahs. His face held a weariness showing his age. “No one can know you have any connection to her, or it’s gonna backfire, you know this.”

“But-”

“What’s happening to Iris, hm? How’s she being punished? I know she is.”

A tightness filled Jonah’s chest, crushing guilt, a fear there was nothing he could do to fix. He couldn’t even protect his own daughter, nonetheless someone else’s. “She’s… moving into the house. She’s gonna be the maid, cook, all that…”

Marcus nodded. “She’s be used to control you. I can’t have that happen to my girl.”

Tears were rare for Jonah. He’d lost the ability years ago, but there was burning behind his eyes. “I’m sorry… I-I shouldn’t be alive. I should turn myself in-”

A strong grip pushed through the bars, holding his shirt. “You need to fucking get it together, Jonah. I’m going to die, but those girls don’t have to. More innocents don’t have to! You’re gonna be close here, you still have power. That little prick loves you. Use that, find another way to end this!”

But Jonah didn’t want to. Jonah wasn’t a doer, he wasn’t a leader. He was a soldier. He couldn’t plan an uprising, anything he did would leader to his daughter’s death and the death of many more, like it did this week.

“I’m sorry.” Jonah repeated, and Marcus sighed, pressing his face to the bars. Jonah did the same, seeking comfort through a rare touch that wasn’t pain.

“It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

After delivering Marcus to the pyre and giving his hand one quick squeeze, Jonah took his place. The close you were to the person being killed, the closer in the circle you went. The boys didn’t know Marcus was his best friend, but Jonah did work with him, as he did majority of those being executed today. This would not be his last dance. 

Deep in the circle, Jonah saw her. The young girl Marcus did all this for, a child forced to dance at her fathers death. Marcus tried to stay quiet, trying to make it easier for his girl, but soon he became to scream, and the girl danced harder. She desperately tried to show her loyalty, the only way to keep herself safe, to dilube herself into believing her dad was a traitor to God herself.

And she danced.

And he danced.

And then he avoided her for ten years.

*

He was going to kill Benjamin Miller. 

All rational was gone, all understand of taking it slow or requesting help, making a plan, or escaping with Iris was gone. It didn’t matter, all he saw was red. Ben was raping her. His baby. His daughter. There was no way in this planet that Iris would cheat on Rey, especially not with Ben of all fucking people. She was being forced.

When he burst into the amory, Ben wasn’t there. But Will was.

“WHERE THE GODDAMN FUCK IS YOUR BROTHER!”

This, of course, ended poorly for Jonah. He was bested, considering his gun had been revoked, and Will as always armed, leaving Jonah on the floor staring down the barrel.

“I see you found out, huh?”

“That your brother is a rapist? Yeah. I did, you sick fuck!” Jonah shouts, but Will rolled his eyes.

“Don’t play dumb, old man. You knew what he was.”

“No, I-”

“You knew damn well. Yeah, most women fell on their knees for him, but I think you knew he forced his way through more than a few times. It’s hard to say no to a god. Melody, remember her? The assasination? You know damn well why that happened. You only care now because it’s Iris.”

A pause. “That’s not fucking true.” But it didn’t have the conviction he needed it to have.

“Lets cut the shit.” Will bent down, gun still on his face ready to blow. “I have a deal for you.”

*

Jonah was going to be sick. He was drunker than belief, as drunk as he could get without blacking out. It was the only way he was going to get through this.

“Make her scream.” Those were his instructions. “Just make her scream, I’ll come in and save her, beat the shit out of you so she thinks you’re dead. Then, you and Iris can leave.”

Will wanted to scare you. To make you distrust the outside world, only trust him and his brothers. He didn’t want to have to worry about you and Reyansh, or any other man. He didn’t want to have to fear you walking down the halls, again and again and again. You weren’t the smartest sometimes, naive, so he wanted you to understand the danger of others. Ironic, considering your skin was mangled from Santiago.

It was for Iris. It had to be for Iris. he had to put is guilt aside and make you think he’s going to rape you. 

“Do whatever you need to do. Touch her, hit her. Fuck, if you need to actually get inside her, just do it. Whatever it takes.”

“You’re disgusting. You’re willing to let me rape your wife, a 22 year old girl just to teach her a lesson?”

“It’s for her own good, Hanson. Now, you’re trying to kill my brother, so maybe it’s Iris I really need to scare?”

He wouldn’t rape you. He wouldn’t hit you. He wasn’t even going to touch you anywear untoward. When you refused to scream, he asked why and your response broke his heart. You didn’t want them to kill him. He should have cut a different deal with Will. Iris could leave with Rey, and Will could actually kill him. He’d wanted to for years, Jonah knew. Everyone is happy. Except you, probably, left alone with a house of psychopaths. But he had to think of Iris. She was here because of him. She was being punished because of him. If Jonah didn’t do this, she’d die because of him.

He stumbled in the kitchen, where he knew you’d be, dressed in a skimpy nightgown because everything else bothered your skin. Your belly was full, swelling out far enough it pushed out the fabric of your dress. 

“Jonah-oh- I… was gonna take you up on the pancakes…”

we're close to the end!!!!!

Sorry it was so late. I had soooo much riters bloc and ima sayits not my best chapter, which is a shame because I saw it all so clear in my head listening to something in the nigh by bruce back in the spring ;-; I tried my best!!!!!

Well, now that we all see why jonah did what he did, what do we think?

Anyway if yall like tis, you migh like my new series, our gentle sins, which is dark logan howlett!

thank you all so so so so much for reading!!!!! i know im slow at writing sometimes esp if something pulls my focus, but thank you.

LOVE YOU ALL!

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

Tags are working like SHIT these days for me and many, many others so make sure to follo wthe rooms on fire tag or my update account.

@winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog g @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjan @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @pixielouise-blog @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielouise-blog @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @pedroshotwifey @umnitsa @koshkaj-blog @hiroikegawa @mangoslushcrush @withasideofmeg @sub-aro @wand-erer5 @guelyury @readingiskeepingmegoing @miraclesabound

[juniperhillpatient]

I’ve talked about how Bates Motel is both peak emotional drama & horror before because it genuinely is one of the best shows that I’ve ever seen in my life in that regard but MAN.

it really really does mix high stakes drama & horror SO well. it’s So well written. In 1.6 it’s like… I’m desperately rooting for Norma & Norman to make it out alive despite knowing that they do because this is a prequel. I’m wondering if the sex slave victim is alive or if Shelby shot her in the forest. I’m disgusted at the way Norma is already manipulating Norman away from the healthier happier life Dylan wants to promise him. I’m furious for Dylan that Norma & Norman left him alone in the house with Shelby.

and I wish I was a good gif maker because the shots of a shadowy figure stumbling out of the house toward Norma & Norman following the gunshots are SO good. we don’t know if it’s Dylan or Shelby coming toward them. more importantly: we don’t know which option is worse - the furious & dangerous rapist / murderer cop or the hurt son who was left behind

like. Im sorry I know I’ve already raved endlessly about how good this show is the first time I watched it it’s just that this really is peak television I can’t help it I get so passionate

[realbeefman]

started watching bates motel last night bc i saw a gifset of the “honey, that’s from jane eyre” line without. realizing that it’s a psycho adaptation or knowing what psycho is about. you can imagine my surprise.

[boriys]

Boris watched as Emma turned away from him, her emotions clearly overwhelming her. He could see the fear and worry in her eyes, painted across delicate features, and it pained him to know that he had caused her so much distress. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her and assure her that everything would be okay, but it was obvious that these were feelings that couldn't just be swept under the rug for her. As much as he could, he tried to keep his work life out of his relationship with her. It wasn't a subject he typically brought up, keeping the two entirely separate.

❝ Yes, yes. I understand your worries, but please, my star, you have to trust me. No need to fuss over such small setback, hm? Believe me, I can handle this, ❞ Boris explained while he followed Emma into the kitchen, his heart aching at the sight of her trying to hold it together. He approached her slowly, reaching out to place one of his hands on her shoulder while she gripped the edges of the counter.

Ever since he was little, it was painfully obvious that he was never going to lead a normal life or a life that would typically be considered successful. At least not the everyday, acceptable kind by society's standards. Always, people were making comments that he'd be a kid who ended up in jail at one point or another. Bad news, they said he was, advising Emma against getting too deeply involved in someone who was headed towards disaster and an early death. But Boris had found success by his own means, and with that he was content with the kind of life he lead.

❝ Why cry over something that hasn't happened, when I am right here? We are alive and healthy and happy, nie? Is that not enough? ❞ His hands settled on Emma's hips, turning her to face him. Gently, after kissing her forehead, he brushed her tears away using his thumbs.

It hurt. This hurt. Knowing that he was trying to keep things from her and brush it off. What would he have done if she hadn't noticed and something happened? What if he just ignored it and he got an infection? Would he have handled it, or just distracted her until she didn't notice and he fixed it? What if he couldn't have?

❝ I've lost you once, I don't-- I can't do it again. ❞

The words slipped from her lips, barely a whisper, as tears brimmed her eyes, thinking of the possibilities of what might've happened. Of what has happened when she wasn't there. It was too much for her. Turning away from him, she walked to the kitchen. Emma had thankfully been smart and had stashed a fully stocked first-aid kit. It had been for her, with how clumsy she was, but deep down she knew that a situation like this would arise someday. Despite how much he tried to hide it, Emma had the internet. People saw them together and would tell her stories of what they heard about him. It usually ended in people saying that she was a magnet and blind to the bad boys around her. As if that could squash the history between them. As if she didn't know that he was not the same boy from back in White Pine Bay. Hell, no one back there was innocent or clean, so it wasn't surprising.

Taking a deep breath as palms swiped over her eyes to smear the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, her hands then gripped at the edge of the counter, eyes stared unfocused at the sink in front of her, trying to come back to the present. Right now wasn't the time to be like this. She needed to go into nurse mode, just enough so that she can patch him up and then leave. Give herself a break, go back and be in the presence of Cody, play video games or write on her blog-- anything to keep her mind from the negative that infested it at the moment.

❝ Not again. ❞

[yuniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie]

Motel , (1/1)

Norman was only ever my colleague starting to work in the bates motel with him ever since i lost my job, i always found him to be a sweet guy, he always made my day even if he was strange.

Y/n’s eyes roamed over the motel and it’s lobby. “Shift today,” she mumbled to herself, “Y/n?” I heard Norman, i turned around and smiled at the male. “Good morning Norman.” I politely greeted, he smiled back just as, “We have the same duty for today.”

I looked up at Norman, nodding at the dark haired man, wrapping my apron around me when we made it downstairs. “It’s fun making coffee for a bunch of people, hopefully i don’t burn my hand.” I chuckled softly, easing any unwanted awkward tension between us both.

I recalled the day i first met Norman before when he let me into the motel being in the shivering cold, only to end up working here with Norman ever since.

“You know - i ran the motel alone for a long while..” Norman spoke, it made you feel a bit bad. No one liked being lonely after all. “Why? Is it because it’s a bit far from town or..?” “No not - that.” He muttered, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he thought, “You know i just really wnjoy your company.” I felt a bit shy as he stated, i tucked my bangs behind my ears. “You do?” Y/n spoke.

He nodded softly, confirming her and his words reassuring. He looked down, he felt embarassed. But he’d wanted to confess to her. Badly, but he never had a chance to do that. Ever. Not with how much stayers here or visitors flirted with her all the time made his blood boil, it took out alot from him not to attack them afterwards. But she’d only think he was a monster, and he loved y/n. He didn’t her to be scared of him. No, they were supposed to be in love.

It was how it worked in his own mind,”Hey,” One of the people who stayed here showed up to the counter. By then orders began to fill up both Norman and Y/n,

He was so absent minded he bumped into another person, “i’m so sorry -“ “What the fuck is your problem?!” The man groaned loudly, clearly impolite.

The curse had alot turn to stare, y/n staring herself. “What’s going on here?” She placed down the tray and walked over to be beside Norman. “What the hell is your problem, you’re really impolite.” Y/n quipped quickly, stepping up to the rude man. “It isn’t my fault for this loser not watching where he’s going bitch-“

The man exclaimed. His hand tightening around her wrist, her eyes grew frantic. Norman clenched his fists in anger, “Let her go.” The man turned around, Norman reached into his pocket slowly, his hand shook. He couldn’t do this. Not infront of her

“What are you going to do about it then, boy?” The man bellowed twice, making norman’s anger rise more, your wrist was red from the man’s harsh grip. Norman pulled you over to him, the man leaving the place angrily,

“Y/n..” Norman mumbled quietly, looking at her. Seeing her slight tear in her eye, “I’m sorry. I can close up the Motel for today,” She looked up at him, anxiety was built up in her. She held herself, “It’s okay norm, really.” She mumbled her own nickname for her male co-worker,

He walked over back to her room though,”Y/n?” He called out for her quietly in midst of the night.

“Norman?” She opened the door, looking at him. Rubbing her eyes, “What’s wrong?” “I closed up the motel for a few days, i wanted us to rest and- i wanted to ask you if you wanted to go with me tomorrow so we could have like a picnic, to makeup for today?”

It made her confused why he ever wanted to makeup, it was that dick’s fault. Not his, she smiled though. “That’s fine.”

It neared her bedtime though, Norman studied y/n ever since the day she got here. He knew the dainty female was the only one genuinely ever kind with him, but his obsession with her grew by day since she was here, it was beyond him whenever she explained to him how much guys dumped her all the time when she had the beauty of a model to him in his eyes and perspective with gentleness of a feather she was his own angel. His own nickname for her, Angel.

But he still had something to be taken care of before he would go out with her, making his way upstairs, he hidden what was in his pocket, not yet out. Not yet, his face wiped off any emotions. With the key to all the rooms, he picked the door open. His eyes landing onto the disgusting man who hurt his y/n.

Of course, he would always murder someone; the body gets found. No one ever suspected him, he knew this was probably going to cause a smell like all the time due to the rotting corpse.

Making his way near the bed. The man woke up with a loud ear piercing scream that shook the walls of the room. It was too late, blood oozed out of the man’s neck, coming out the mouth, “You hurt her,” Norman gritted out, his knife jabbing into the man’s stomach. Making him choke on his own blood, “You HURT her!” The knife twisted into the stomach, reaching the insides, Norman twisted the knife even further and left a big gash. For a list time the knife lodged into the man’s cut open stomach, Norman shoved the knife back into his back pocket, clicking his tongue at the dead man across him.

He made his way back downstairs anyways, his eyes widening and his form freezing halfway when he spotted Y/n walking alone down to her room after presumably getting herself some water, he ran back into his own room, disposing the murder weapon and clothes before getting into the shower, shaking, he saw his hands. The adrenaline in him was calming slowly, the events of today,

“Norman?” I mumbled, opening my eyes to spot his all too familiar figure by the door holding something behind his back, “Y/n.” He completely forgotten about the picnic anyways, he only wanted to be with her. “Why are you here so early- i..?” Norman only got closer to the bed.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” He glowered a bit, “It’s just about um - well.” The irritating sound of a phone ring pierced both you and him. It was your sister.

“I’m so sorry - i’ll talk to you in the lobby in a second. - hello?” You held the phone up to your ear, unaware of the disappointed Norman.

“It’s been a while y/n, where are you though? I miss you sis.” It was always her own way of talking, i smiled, “I’m at the motel,” “Oh, don’t tell me that shady one too?”

I clicked my tongue softly and grinned. “No, it’s not shady it’s the bates motel.” But she didn’t take it serious, “Is it that boy with the mommy issues, the crazy guy? Or is he your boyfriend?” She mocked.

Her nature had always been a bit hotheaded, unlike you. “He’s a really nice guy, rachel, really!” “Yadda yadda-“ She disnissed. “Mom and dad aren’t here i thought it’s fun i’d stay somewhere before my trip honestly. To that motel, i wanna see you.” The night was going to be a long one, and you didn’t assume Norman thought bad about it, “Norman?” I tapped his shoulder as he put something away. “Y/n?” He uttered, “What’s happened?”

“My sister had been wanting to stay here a bit,” Norman’s face dropped a bit, “I just had hoped you hadn’t mind her coming here. Is it okay?” He nodded hesitantly yet hid it. “I’m fine-“ “Y/n!” Rachel gasped. Hugging you and dropped her luggage all over the floor she startled the Female.

Norman was far from happy. He picked up the dropped luggage, seeing your attention shifting to your sister as you hugged her back and all, he frowned.

“Is this him?” She spoke, looking the dark haired male up and down, “It’s just Norman.” He retorted back, but she had only rolled her eyes. “Sure, do i have a room yet?” “Yeah it’s this way.” Y/n led her kin to the bedroom, soft with her movements.

Norman’s blood boiled every day, every minute it could be exagerated to every second he saw this girl with his y/n. Y/n didn’t have her attention on him anymore because of that impolite incel. And he hated it,

So he waited and waited, waiting. It was only a matter of time before he gripped the same weapon he always used, the pocket knife. “Where’s y/n?” She asked him. Texting someone on her phone, Norman frustradedly tightened his grip on the knife, “It’s all your fault.” And she turned, “What?..” “it’s all because of you!” He raised his voice, hand clenching into a tight fist. “You took her! You stole y/n away from me!” His knife landed into her shoulder, holding her down when she screamed, “I’ll make you pay for this” he grunted. Knife detaching from the shoulder, landing fatally straight into the jugular. Her eyes went wide, blood poured out immensely out the neck after the knife was dragged, screams no longer leaving the lifeless body at all, but this was enough.

But it was wrong, very wrong of him. “Here’s the coffee y/n.” She smiled up at him, sipping it out of the cup quietly, eyes on the counter, feeling a bit weird, “Norman..” Her legs began to numb.

He had the face of a guilty kid, “I’m sorry y/n.” Dread filled her expression, legs aching like hell. Eyes drooping, he drugged her.

Y/n pushed herself up against the railing but fell infront of the door, eyes watering. She cried meekly, hands reaching and tugging against the doorknob, But Norman dangled the keys. She squealed quietly when he flipped her on her back, she saw stars. Not believing Norman would do this, her stomach dropped. Heart sinking, she rested her head against the wooden floor in tears, giving up.

“Shh..” His hand reached into his back pocket. Drugging her yet again, the rag covering her nose, blocking her from inhaling anything but the chloroform. He saw her chubby cheeks, wet with tears.

“It’ll all be okay y/n. I need you with ms.” He broke, “Your mine. Y/n-i can’t let you go..”

“I won’t ever let you go.” He whispered.

[loving-family-poll]

Ultimate Incest Tournament - Round 2

Norma and Norman Bates sculpture by artist "Rainman," titled Murderer

Propaganda under the cut:

Norma/Norman:

The weirdest, most charming mother/son duo ever. Bates Motel took an interesting story and turned it into something greater, exploring Norma and Norman's relationship with sincere sympathy. Their love for each other is beautiful, but destructive; their intimacy was born out of necessity and shared pain; the world won't leave them alone. It's awful to witness. It's beautiful and heartbreaking.

i mean COME ON. Norma is constantly upset that Norman expresses interest in other women. She hid her husband from Norman because she knew Norman would throw a hissy fit over them being together (which he did)

He tried to commit murder-suicide so they could die together and when he survived he taxidermied her corpse so they could be together forever

Norman “It’s like there’s a cord between us” x Norma “Honey that’s - that’s from Jane Eyre” are everything to me. I’m barely scratching the surface in doing justice to their insanity. They mean everything to each other and I love their fucked-up codependency so dearly.

After he killed her he couldn't live without her so literally absorbed her personality and started wearing her clothes and speaking for her and carrying her corpse around and when a woman he was attracted to showed up at the hotel he killed her as his mother bc of his mother's jealousy??

Gerard/Mikey:

Vocalist and bassist respectively of my chemical romance. they are insanely codependent (describing themselves as the same person just different heights etc). gerard has also licked mikeys nipple onstage. good times

Gerard is decidedly super abnormal about mikey. he has written many songs about him that are always adjacent to straight up love songs. he has also been explicitly sexual with him (giving him a pantomime handjob, caressing his chest, saying he looks like a hooker etc etc) while also constantly babying him. theyre codependent and they finish each others sentences and theyre in ickydisgusting brotherlove❤️❤️❤️❤️

Grew up together as the outsiders in their New Jersey town and spent their teenhoods together in a musty basement. Mikey learned to walk by running after Gerard and face-planting. Gerard drew comics for Mikey and told him stories. They went to a Smashing Pumpkins concert together and decided that being in a band is what they wanted out of life. Mikey learned the bass because Gerard was in bands and he wanted to join. Gerard called up Mikey after witnessing 9/11 and told him they're gonna start a band. Everything they do is together, they love each other. And isn't it so much fun to turn that incest?

Mikey Way wrote a comic where the main character, who looks like him from the black parade era, gets a woman pregnant. Which isn't incestuous on its own, but she looks like the female version of Gerard Way from the black parade era. Love is love or something