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jimmyscanongf · 2 years ago

Text

labor of love

norman bates (psycho 1960) taxidermies you (romantic) (gender neutral)

or, the strange mentally ill erotic fantasy of someone cutting me open and just getting all up in my guts (Nicely,) has surfaced from the old deep deep deep dark days of my life and now has a place ig?

cw death and detailed gore; cw fucked up content in general but if you saw this title and are still reading further you already know whats up, you sicko ;) this is unedited word vomit style typed directly into the tumblr post editor, bcs it was very very slow today and this was better than ruminating myself into an actual mental breakdown at freaking work so this is for the absolute freaks and please dont come for my ass if anything in the getting taxidermied by norman bates fanfiction isnt accurate

in thinking about the potential endings for an extended norman and reader romance... i think it would be such an extraordinarily delicate balance to manage a relationship and try to help him while avoiding the shitshow of human rights violations that was psychiatric care in the 1960s. and maybe you could manage it but if you couldn't......... perhaps he was hiding the true extent of his illness, even well into your relationship, even after getting married. some act of repression, of course he didn't want to scare you away and he was so certain he would, and nobody had ever loved him like you did and nobody ever would again. but ya just can't bottle it up like that without building and building the pressure... and to have a relationship, to have sex with you and marry you and try to be happy WITHOUT HER, oh what a grievous transgression to the ignored Norma, cast away to the far recesses of his awareness, he's managed to hold onto control for this long but the situation will simply not do, and she'll just have to eliminate the disgusting little bitch who stole her son away from her, take the reins back in a moment of weakness, of fracture -

and norman wakes up in a place he doesn't remember, in clothes he doesn't remember, but he remembers the fight and the fevered pitch of your voice, the wide-eyed fear in your face, his mixed up train of thought derailing, crashing, and the sound of his mother screaming in his ears. not a hint of a thought of what happened enters his mind as he retraces the trail of blood through the house, empty and automatic and despairing but still not connecting the ideas together until he actually finds the mangled heap of your body slumped on the floor, with the sick metallic smell of clotting blood, a dizzying lake of deep red bigger than he'd ever seen before surrounding you.... it's so shattering that he is disconnected even from the impulse to vomit, though he drops to his knees and screams and screams and screams...... and his mother is nowhere around to help him, and you're gone gone gone, forever! forever! but no! he hears your voice in his ear, soft though it startled him: "no, you can still save me, don't you remember? you've done it already before, norman, save me, save me before it's too late...!"

you're still even warm by the time he brings you down to the basement, cradling you in his arms and staining the clean clothes mother had gone out of her way to dress him in, still limp dead weight, he puts you on the table where he does his taxidermy and kisses your lips with blood on your mouth, pets your hair, coos a billion apologies. "oh my love, i should have never ever let this happen! i promised myself i would never let this happen to you that i would never let her hurt you im sorry im sorry im sorry i tried i tried!!" screwing his eyes shut at your body in front of him, crying tears that dripped onto your skin. and you shush him, your voice comes like a bell calling him in the darkness "i love you norman, i forgive you, but you must work fast now, you have to work fast to revive me!" he opens his eyes, far gone, nods fervently into your lifeless face, knowing that this would be very hard, and very easy, in that he had done it dozens of times before but not on this scale and not this fresh. he strokes the soft skin of your cheek, flits over to bring his tool kit near and then strips your body bare to begin his work - but he already has to stop, go up to the linen closet to bring towels and a bucket of water to clean the blood and gore off your skin, revealing in detail every grisly angry slash, stab, loose flap of skin that should still be all connected, should be, norman cries, with only an extremely dim awareness that it was his own hands that wrought this upon you. but he would fix it, he would suture your lovely flesh back together last, after the bulk of the work was done.

it takes significant effort to cut you with the same blade that he had cut birds and other small creatures with but he made it through all the layers of skin and fat and muscle, cut flaps to splay your belly open for easy access. and the inside of your body. explodes with colour and detail that he had never seen on this scale before. your insides were all shining red, and translucent membranous pink, with lipid yellows, greenish and brownish hues, pearlescent white fascia and winding lines of purple-blue connecting everything. and then he trembles all over seeing it his hands shaking violently, already slick with blood, as they approach the opening, and you comfort him, sweetly in his ear, "calm now, my love, i'm in good hands, i know i am, but you need to stop shaking, you need to be gentle." "i know, im just scared. i'm sorry, i'm so sorry..." "i trust you, norman." he steeled his nerves and then slips his hands oh so, so gingerly into the wet, the slick and smooth mess, the winding intestines, cold on the surface from contact with the air but still warm underneath, and he only loves you more and more and more that you trust him like this, that you let him do this to you, putting your faith in him to revive you.

he was struck by the intimacy of it, he was so close, closer than anyone else in the world had been to you, even closer than sex, up to his forearms in your body cavity, with all the beautiful unseen parts that had sustained your living body for so long, all those years........ you would have to learn a new kind of life now, with him. he scoops the intestines, they spill over the sides onto the table, attached at either end, and he realized he would have no place to actually put any of this once he removed it, he took the bucket with red translucent water and tipped it over into the floor drain. then, bringing it near, cuts your entire digestive tract free, placing it gently in the bucket. looking down at the heap inside, he feels a sheen of sweat on his forehead, and reached up to wipe it with the bloodied back of his arm. then, the pancreas, the kidneys and bladder, the liver (some cultures thought the liver was the seat of human love, he thinks), everything is so connected, tubes and gossamer-thin tissues that he has to dissect to separate the parts out. he has to reach underneath your ribcage to cut your lungs free, they sink in and deflate more as he works, and puts them too on top of the rest of your organs. then, last, your heart - he hesitates, and trembles, feeling the imperative to be especially delicate now, as if the muscle might disintegrate under his touch. but he feels around, remembering the anatomy diagram of the heart he'd learned so many many years ago, cuts free the three arteries connected to the aorta, the pulmonary vessels, both venae cavae, and suddenly he is holding the fist-sized organ free in his hand. he set his knife to the side and then reached in again, cradling the muscle in both of his broad palms as he brought it out into the light, letting out a shuddering breath - your heart! oh it was your actual heart, the heart that loved him, the heart that once beat in your chest, that he listened to countless nights to soothe himself, pressing his ear to your sternum. he sees the fatal gash the knife made, he turns his head and leans his ear in, though he knows it's silent anyways he almost starts to sob, "keep it," you say, and he startles "keep it, my love, it's yours, it was always yours" and he looks up into the ceiling "really? are you certain?" forgetting the anguish, and he feels your confirmation, your permission, as the warmth of your love. then, looks down at the deep red knot of muscle, presses a tender kiss there, and holds it to his chest, mirroring his own living heart. with reverence, he sets it on the table in his view and continues on -

it's best practice to remove the bulk of the skeletal muscle, too, and so he opens the skin on the arms that held him close, the legs and thighs that he'd had bliss between, and frees the long corded masses - the ones in the limbs come out of the body clean and compartmentalized, attached to the bone really only by two tendons on either end, separating easily from each other. this was by chance one of the largest buckets he had in the house but now it was full top with all your externalized insides, and the slippery smooth remainder of your muscles went to the floor - it was only a short distance to the furnace anyways, and all of this would have to go to the furnace, into the fire, you wouldn't be needing them anymore, and everything would have to be clean, clean, clean after. and now your body was ready for treating with the chemicals - there might not be enough, but it would have to do - and the sawdust which only seemed to come in large quantities, and it's easy, easy, art to craft the contours of your body that he learned, he knows from memory. he closes with care the long incisions he had made, making the flesh edges meet neatly all down the length of your limbs, up the i-shape he made on your abdomen and then, the awful wounds, slashes and gashes all over he sutures at last with a lingering feeling of sorrow, that dissipates when, finally cutting the last thread, he sees the miracle of life bloom forth on your face out from the monochrome of death "norman!" you smiled, with recognition in your eyes from where your head was limply rolled to the side

he smiled back at you, euphoria like a thrill of electricity tingling through his body as he reached out to cup your face - of course the fact he didn't have a sufficient amount of preservatives and anything didn't matter because it had little to do with the process of reviving anyways. it was all in the effort itself, in the way he marked his own soul in order to remake you and have you forever, it was in that labor of love where the actual transformation was made. he stroked his thumbs on your cheekbones, leaning over you and sobbing out "yes, yes, yes, yes, it's me, i'm here!!"

"you did it, i knew you could, i knew you would save me, norman."

"i could do anything for you, i would do anything for you!"

"i'm so cold now down here in the basement, i feel so weak and exhausted after everything... would you please help me get dressed?"

your bloody clothes were all heaped on the floor and he sniffled, blinking the tears from his eyes. "oh, those are all completely ruined..... I'm sorry... I'll take you up to the bedroom now, okay? and we'll get you into pajamas, and then you can just sleep for however long you need." and you would need the sleep - it was a strange and difficult new life to adjust to, being so dependent on him now for so many things, and you would never be able to leave the house anymore, which would likely be as hard for you as it was at first for his mother. but might get easier for you faster, he thought, as you had both found many more interesting things to do inside than he and his mother ever had in nearly thirty years until you came along. he kisses you on the forehead, and gently lets your head down, before he shifts his arms underneath you and scoops you up in a bridal carry, the whole weight of you in his arms as he carries you up the stairs to the main floor, then turned, climbing up and up again

"i was so scared when she killed me, Norman." Your voice makes his lip tremble as he looks down into your eyes, "but I know i'm safe now with you."

"Yes, you're safe here with me... You'll be safe here with me forever..."

He can feel the vibration of love coming off you, that keen resonation, it was always always there though he never managed to put it to its name, his heart absolutely swells with the sensation, love, pure ecstatic love! you were his one love and the most precious thing he had ever encountered in his life and now he could keep you safe from everything, forever, with him! oh, it didn't work out as nice for you as if it has never happened in the first place, but he could feel a new tension and energy, a precipice on which he was looking out at a new and encompassing depth of your bond, of your relationship, and he only had to dive in with you. he was almost even excited to start this new and beautiful era of your life together.

#norman bates x reader #norman bates #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #psycho 1960 #i dont know man freaks come around i need the freaks to see this #x.wordvomit #x.writing #does this count as a cry for help?#jk guys im fine (i want norman to taxidermy me and act out my life so i dont have to live it myself)#barely read hit post

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