stop it norman



🌻🌼🌻 Daisies, daisies perched upon my window, Oh my baby lately I know… 🌻🌼🌻

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My never-properly-written Soul Bates aesthetics:

Mother, scolding Norman in her sassy manner for coming home late, getting tired of his bs about not having any calls from her, fishing his phone right out of his trousers while leaning on to him to do so and staring at him with her wicked little smile, and then scrolling through his calls and, finally, roughly gripping at his belt, when he tries to pull off his for-gods-sake-mother push-and-run thing.

“Mother”, “Mother”, “Mother”, “Mother”… Honestly, Norman, it’s odd how fine your phone’s working!’ she gives out an amused little laugh, though her eyes aren’t laughing; and then every feature of her face becomes more edgy. ‘Aaah, ‘Madelaine’. Well, that explains it.

She slams the phone onto Norman’s chest and he hardly catches it.

‘Leave her alone, Mother, she’s a nice girl.’
‘Really? And what’s so nice that she’s done to you?’ 
‘You don’t have to be so jealous’.

Mother’s grip on his belt strengthens. She’s pulling Norman closer, and he can’t really do anything about it.

Don’t I?’ Norman tries to lean back, but she’s leaning forward, still clutching at his belt. ‘Don’t I, honey?’ Her smile could give cold burns. ‘Because I don’t think I’m sleep-leaving-hickeys on your neck.’