#i am the pretty thing that lives in the house

[nerissamaes]

“I have heard myself say that a house with a death in it can never again be bought or sold by the living. It can only be borrowed from the ghosts that have stayed behind. To go back and forth, letting out and gathering back in again. Worrying over the floors in confused circles. Tending to their deaths like patchy, withered gardens. They have stayed to look back for a glimpse of the very last moments of their lives. But the memories of their own deaths are faces on the wrong side of wet windows, smeared by rain. Impossible to properly see. There is nothing that chains them to the places where their bodies have fallen. They are free to go, but still they confine themselves, held in place by their looking. For those who have stayed, their prison is their never seeing. And left all alone, this is how they rot.”

I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives In The House || 2016

WHY ARE YOU HAUNTED? // ON HAUNTED HOUSES

Frederick Kiesler Inside the Endless House // The Haunting of Hill House (2018) cr. Mike Flanagan // Lisa Robertson Magenta Soul Whip // Joan Tierney Why Are You Haunted? // V.C. Andrews // Heather Havrileskyb Haunted Womanhood // Shirley Jackson The Haunting of Hill House // The Haunting of Hill House cr. Mike Flanagan // Tracy K. Smith Ash // Anatomy (2016) cr. Kitty Horrorshow

[anastasia12]

lower your inhibitions

lower your inhibitions ; simon “ghost” riley.

You love Simon, you really do.

How could you not? How could you not fall for him? He’s the one who rescued you from a fate worse than death, the one who washes your body for you even though the both of you know that you’re fully capable of showering alone (he loves you so much, he’s constantly craving to touch you in any way he can), the one who took apart one of his honorary medals for his services and melted it down so it could be manipulated and turned into the band on your engagement ring.

(Did you know that the medal he used is the one he got from the mission where you two first met, the fateful mission where he both saved and changed your whole entire life?)

And you know that Simon would do absolutely anything for you. He whispers it to you in the dead of night, holding you so close to his chest like he’s scared you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. He lets you be the one who removes his mask, and if he can do something so intimately vulnerable, then you suppose you can do this for him.

This is giving into one of his latest fantasies, one that he’s been hinting at for quite some time now.

You know that his line of work is difficult at best and life-threatening all the time. You know that he bears a heavy burden on his shoulders — it’s not just his weaponry and equipment that weighs him down, but the fact that so many lives are resting in his hands. You do your best to relieve him of any stress when he gets home: a warm meal waiting for him, fresh clothes set out for him to change into, long nights where you spend all your time and energy determined to give him the reward he deserves for being a hero.

He mentions it in passing, usually when you’re so far gone in the throes of pleasure that you don’t even consciously acknowledge his little comments. Sneaky bastard; he’s been making sure it stays ingrained in your subconscious, though.

Baby, I could spend forever here. You’re certain that’s what he was groaning out the last time you had spread your legs for him and allowed him to eagerly lap at your pussy. You’re not entirely too sure, though — the only thing you can clearly remember through the foggy haze of intense passion was the feeling of him pleasuring you with just his mouth and bringing you to climax on his tongue at least twice that night.

You can only imagine what he must have planned for you tonight.

You’re sure that Simon has an insane amount of stamina as a result of his work. The only thing keeping you, his little soon-to-be housewife, still alive from all of these little entanglements is the fact that you love him enough to do anything he asks of you. So when he tells you that the only thing that’ll help him take his mind off of his latest assignment is to have you sitting on his face, you oblige.

According to him, this is a foolproof plan because only an idiot would be thinking about something else when he’s got the prettiest pussy in the world on top of him.

You could feel your face heating up at his vulgar compliment, but you’re not entirely innocent. The heat was building up towards the lower half of your body after that comment, too.

And now you find yourself nervously straddling your fiance, looking into his eyes.

“You know where you need to be, pretty girl,” His voice is already thick with arousal, and you recognize that hungry glint in his eyes. You pray to anyone out there who’s listening to pretty please give you the strength to survive tonight.

“B-but Simon—” You’re whispering, even though this house is the only residence in the area. (Thank God for that; if the two of you had neighbors, they surely would have filed a noise complaint.)

“Yes, my love?” You can recognize the teasing tone in his voice, and you can hear the smirk he must be wearing on his face.

“How am I supposed to… You know, get on your face and let you do what you want when your mask is still on?”

His infamous balaclava with the skull design etched onto the fabric seems to taunt you. It doesn’t scare you, especially since you’re well aware of who the man behind the mask truly is, but you can’t quite figure out why he hasn’t taken it off yet.

“Oh. I didn’t tell you yet?” He has to be smiling underneath the mask because your reaction to his next words is enough to have him chuckling.

“I’m not eating you out ‘til you’re so wet for me that I can feel you dripping through the mask.”

You immediately freeze up, wondering if he truly means what he just said.

(It’s Simon; of course, he meant every word of it.)

“Sweetheart, I thought you were going to be a good girl for me tonight.” The disapproval he douses his words with isn’t real — you know he’s just trying to tease you because it’s what he loves to do. Still, you find yourself nodding your head and slowly but surely making your way up his resting body before you find yourself hovering uncertainly above his face.

You let out an adorable little yelp of surprise as he suddenly grips the back of your thighs and forces you down on his mask-covered face. For a man his size, the strength isn’t surprising, but it’s his stealth and dexterity that always catches you off guard.

“Can’t wait to taste you.” His voice sounds muffled now due to the pressure being applied to his mouth, and you can feel the slight movements of his mouth despite the thick fabric of his balaclava acting as a barrier between you and him. His eyes are already deepening with desire, and you swallow hard, knowing that it’ll please him if you truly give it your all. You’ve known him for what feels like forever, and you’re engaged to the man. There’s no more room for shyness to take root in this relationship.

It’s time for you to lower your inhibitions.

Your first movements are a bit uncertain, but his groan of appreciation acts as reassurance. You move back and forth slowly, carefully grinding against the mask, and occasionally, your clit will brush against the covered tip of his nose, only adding to your pleasure and allowing you to give into your depravity without worry.

“Just like that, love. You’re doing so well for me.” You can barely make out the words he’s saying, but you give him a shaky smile as you continue to grind against him, your hands finding purchase on the pillow he’s resting his head on. You grip it, trying to hold yourself steady as you continue to buck against him, your arousal practically leaking out of you, a constant stream of juices that is soaking through the fabric, leaving a distinct wet stain on the front of it.

Simon grins at a mission successfully accomplished. Not only can he feel your arousal through the mask, but you’re so soaked for him that he’s certain he can taste you already, too.

One strong hand grips your waist, pausing your jerky movements, and you look down, blinking and trying to ground yourself into reality. You watch as he uses his other hand to tear off the balaclava, tossing it somewhere on the floor of your shared bedroom.

His chin and lips are already shining just the slightest — just how wet for him are you? He gives you a cheeky grin, and you’re still so close to him that when he speaks, his lips brush against your slick folds.

“Don’t stop now, darling. You promised you’d sit on my face.”

He’s so close to helping you get rid of the ache in between your legs, and you find yourself lowering yourself fully, your soft thighs encasing his head, and your soaking cunt landing right on his mouth. You’re already leaking all the way down to his chin, and his groans of pleasure only serve to make you even wetter.

He can’t speak right now; not when he’s too occupied with the meal you’ve so generously decided to grace him with. The room is filled with the obscene sounds of him lapping up everything you’re spilling out.

His tongue slides through your entrance with ease, and you moan in ecstasy, throwing your head back as you start to instinctually buck against his face, practically riding his tongue.

He’s sucking up your arousal, eager to please you but also insanely happy at the position he’s finally in. This is exactly what he needed: pure, unadulterated access to your pussy. Your thighs are surrounding him, and he uses both hands to squeeze harshly at your ass. The slight pain only makes you squeal and jerk up just the slightest, but he growls before forcing you back down on his face, right where you belong.

The ministrations of his tongue are entirely too much. The noises the two of you are making sounds as if the two of you are filming a porno, and you know you can’t last much longer.

Using both of your hands, your fingers curl into the thick locks of his hair, tugging just enough to him groan against your pussy, and you mewl out his name as you cum all over his face.

Your body feels like jelly; this isn’t the first time that Simon has fucked you boneless before, but this orgasm was intense. You think you can still feel some aftershocks of it, and you moan out weakly as you struggle to remain in your seated position on his face.

He’s still lapping everything up, his tongue still exploring every centimeter of yourself you have to offer him. After that climax, your poor pussy is feeling too sensitive, and every time he slightly moves his head, his nose continues to bump against your clit. You’re ultra-aware of every movement of his, extra susceptible to every flick of his tongue and the pleasure is only painfully heightened. You’re too weak to fight him off and while giving in will surely leave you unable to leave the bed all day tomorrow, you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

“Si-mon.” You whine out his name, but it comes out garbled and broken. Your mind doesn’t know how to react to the constant pleasure he’s inflicting on you and your sensitive little cunt. Your body, though, is eager to receive more of what he has to offer. It’s evident in the way your hole starts to clench around nothing every time he teasingly withdraws his tongue to force you to beg him for more. Even though you feel like you’re unable to move, you still find enough strength left in you to grind against him, rubbing your pussy and spreading your slick all over his face before you cum once again, this one leaving you all the more disorientated.

His visage is a sight to behold: cheeks are flushed red, eyes wild and dark with desire, the lower half of his face stained with your cum and arousal. You should be embarrassed at what a mess you’ve made of your fiance, but he only licks his lips. His eyes almost roll back as he realizes the taste of you will forever be on his tastebuds.

“Taste so good, love.” He gasps out. His hair is messy from the way you’ve shamelessly tugged at his locks. “I need more. You gonna give it to me?”

You’re nodding, but he doesn’t even wait for your affirmation before forcing you down onto his mouth once again.

He wasn’t lying when he made the claim that he could live in between your legs forever. After tonight, you know you’re never going to deny him the chance to prove it, though.

comment if you want your @ in heree

[burningembers91]

Outside Looking In - Nam-Gyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Nam-Gyu has always been an outsider, watching as everyone passes him by. He spends his days trying to make a name for himself, and trying to show the beautiful hostess with a broken heart that he'd love her until the end of time, if only she would let him.

A/N: Based off of this ask. I wanted to say a HUGE thank you the anon who asked that I write for Nam-Gyu. I didn't really like his character in Squid Game, but I am SO happy with how this turned out. I wasn't planning on writing this so quickly, but the ask gave me such a good idea, I couldn't resist. Thank you, Anon. I hope you enjoy!

Park Nam-Gyu had spent his entire life desperately waiting to be noticed. Waiting to be noticed by his parents, his siblings, his class mates, employers, and women. But no matter how hard he tried he always just seemed to be on the edge of everyone’s periphery. He tried to be bolder, louder, a little more cocky; he’d met so many people like that who commanded attention, so he couldn’t understand why it didn’t work for him.

He'd taken a job as a Club Promoter to meet girls, but also on the hope that people would want to hang out with him, even if was just for discounted or free bar entry. He would spend all week advertising clubs and bars on Instagram, promising his old classmates he would be able to get them tickets for the hottest places in town, even the ones that were exclusively guest list only. It had worked for a while, and Nam-Gyu found himself basking in the popularity he’d always craved. But people were fickle, and once they got what they wanted, they soon left. There were hundreds of club promoters in the city, and most of them had better connections that he did. He never gave up though, spending each weekend following the crowds of drinkers that flooded through Seoul. He never quite managed to attract enough attention though, left to stand on the pavement clutching his leaflets as everyone passed him by.

Nam-Gyu knew he should throw the towel in. He didn’t make any money as a club promoter, still living in the tiny box room at his mum and dad’s house. He should really focus on a proper job, something in insurance or accounting; but then he really would be a nobody. Just another faceless ghost in a suit, robotically moving through life. He knew he was destined for greater things, if only he could just be noticed.

You were the other reason he didn’t want to quit the job that made him no money. You, the beautiful hostess, whose job it was to entertain the richer clientele who frequented the bars he promoted. Night after night you would bend to every will and demand of drunk men, smiling politely as they groped you, called you hideous names and tried to force themselves on you. You were tired of this life, tired of being nothing more than a pretty girl in a tight dress and pair of heels whose name no one bothered to learn. Except for Nam-Gyu; he knew your name; he saw the sadness harboured in your eyes. He watched as you stood in all kinds of weather, smiling and greeting people through gritted teeth. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, and he was so madly, so deeply in love with you. He could try and bullshit the drinkers with his false bravado, but he could never fool you. “What are you doing after work?” he asked you one night as you stood shivering on the pavement, savouring the last fewminutes of your break. “I’m going home,” you sighed, “I finish at 3am.” “Maybe I could walk you home,” he offered, taking in the goosebumps that littered your delicate skin. You shouldn’t be standing out here freezing. You should be inside, curled by a fire with someone who doted on you, cared for you. Nam-Gyu wished he could be that person. “I’m getting a taxi,” you told him. “Thanks though.”

You’d noticed Nam-Gyu plenty of times. He’d been working as a club promoter for as long as you’d been working as a hostess. He’d always seemed sweet, but he tried so hard to impress people who didn’t deserve his attention. He always looked out for you, keeping you company on quieter nights, buying you dinner if your tips didn’t cover your meal. You doubted he made much money either, but he always made sure you didn’t go hungry. He made you laugh, and when it was just the two of you, he was so different to the brash, cocky persona he adopted when he was working. You wondered why he felt the need to act like someone he wasn’t.  You wished you had his never-ending enthusiasm, his ability to keep a smile plastered to his face no matter what. People spoke to him like shit, and yet he never let it phase him. You on the other hand, you were finding it harder and harder to deal with the men who grabbed at you and treated you like a life-size Barbie doll, simply there for their amusement. Your dream was to become a florist, to open your own shop. But dreams required money, and you spent all yours just trying to get by each month. You knew how much Nam-Gyu cared for you, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wasting his time. You were damaged goods, too broken to ever love again.

Nam-Gyu wasn’t sure how long he’d been sitting outside for when he saw you. It was raining, a constant drizzle that soaked through his shirt and jeans, plastering his hair to his cheeks. He’d tried to gain entry to the very bar he’d been promoting, but the bouncer wouldn’t admit him. “We’re full,” he was told, despite the constant stream of patrons entering. He didn’t want to go home though, didn’t want to face his parents to whom he was a constant source of disappointment. So, he sat in the rain, waiting for you to show up on your break. This time however, you weren’t alone. There was a man with you, his hands round your waist. You were pushing him away, but he’d just grab you again, clearly unfazed or unaware that you weren’t interested in his advances. “Please stop,” you snapped, pulling your arm away as he tried to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Seriously, fuck off!” “Hey!” Nam-Gyu stood up, marching over to where you stood, his fists balled. “Leave her alone! She said she’s not interested.” He couldn’t make out the man’s response; the guy was too drunk to form words coherently, but apparently not to drunk to harass you. “It’s fine, honestly,” you told him, “I’m used to it. My manager has called him a cab, he’ll be gone soon.” But your eyes were so sad, your mouth trembling as you held back tears. Nam-Gyu wished he could take the sadness away from you, wished he could see a smile light up your face.

He waited for you until the bar closed, just in case anyone else tried to take advantage of you. “Why are you still here?” you sighed, pitying the rain-soaked man who never gave up on you. “I wanted to make sure you got home ok,” he told you, trying to hide the shivers that wracked his body. “I’m fine, honestly.” You started walking, your tips not enough to pay for a taxi, and Nam-Gyu followed. You wished you could open up and let him in; you wished you weren’t so broken. But a lifetime of toxic relationships had left you damaged. You were so used to being hurt that you didn’t think anyone could fix you, not even the sweet club promoter who stood waiting for you in the rain. You walked home in silence, enjoying his company but too scared to admit it to him. You stopped as you got the front of your apartment, turning to say goodnight to the man you desperately wished you could love back.

“I wouldn’t treat you like those men do,” Nam-Gyu whispered, “I’d make sure you never had to work in a place like that ever again. I’d hold you every night and tell you how lucky I was to have you.” “If you hold me without hurting me, you'll be the first who ever did.” You smiled sadly, your hand gently clasping his cheek. He leaned into your touch, relishing the sensation against his freezing cold skin. You left him standing out there, watching you as you made your way up the stairs to your place.

He forced himself to turn and walk home, the rain never once ceasing. Nam-Gyu would probably always be a nobody, but to you, he was desperate to be a someone.

[genderqueerdykes]

Do you have like, some nice words?

Like I’m just so tired of how constant tme/tma speak is on my dash. Posts about how transfems should leave friend groups of “tmes” because they will inevitably be bigots

Why are half the popular transfems on this site horribly transphobic in their own right the moment a transmasc dares exist in their vicinity

Sorry I’m basically just venting in your inbox, thank you for being a breath of fresh air

i'm sorry you're dealing with this. it's natural to be worn down by this behavior, it's literal transphobia and intersexism and people just don't seem to care.

the tme/tma (transmisogyny exempt/transmisogyny affected) binary doesn't work. the issue is that in real life, most queerphobes you come across are assuming you are a trans woman. the average person associates the concept of transness with transfemininity on average, unless they personally know some transmascs or trans men, or are one. it's very rare to find a stranger who gets it. every time i come out to a stranger, they immediately switch to she/her pronouns, call me ma'am/miss/girl/etc., and ask what my "real" name is. it's really weird

transmasculine invisibility is a genuine issue offline. certain pockets of the internet are obsessed with hating trans men but that doesn't mean that the vast majority of people in the offline world know a damn thing about any of this. i do not ever have anyone understand that i mean i'm transmasculine when i say im trans. as i'm transmasc and transfem i don't really challenge it, but it sucks that people have one assumption and one only.

it happens with other queers. i moved in with a bunch of perisex trans femmes and was dating one for a while and flirting with a few others. my other roommate was a perisex cis gay man. i was the only intersex person who was there at the time, and i think a very small handful of others were around regularly, so there was a high chance that people should've been pretty informed about the existence of intersex identities. i know some people who came around pretty often were intersex, at least from my memory

the second people found out about my physical anatomy, they switched how they treated me. everyone thought i had a penis for some reason? and were made wildly uncomfortable upon finding out about it. when i revealed that i'm intersex & genderqueer, and that i'm bigender: a trans man, and a trans woman all hell broke loose suddenly nobody knew what to think or feel or anything.

people honest to god just defaulted to misgendering me.

and treating me like i was stupid as fuck.

this was the hardest part. i was being treated like i was dumb as HELL and it frustrated me to no end.

my emotions were "too much". i kept getting told i was too needy or whiny or possessive or that i needed too much of sometimes time or that i was touching the wrong things around the house. i kept being criticized for moving objects that impacted an environment i was allowed to work at. i was criticized for organizing a bookshelf i was asked to organize. i was ridiculed and insulted. my roommate and a girl who was flirting with me questioned my dissociative identity disorder, which i have plenty of medical records spanning back to 2017 from various doctors in various states and hospitals showing my diagnostic history with dissociation and dissociative disorders, and he also questioned my schizophrenia when i have records dating back to 2015 showing my history with severe psychotic episodes and the development of schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type

i was no longer the arbiter of my own lived experience because everyone found out i didn't have a penis. i'm a vagina haver so i'm stupid. i'm dumb. i'm a cis woman. i'm faking. i'm not actually a man. well i am a man. i'm evil.

i'm breaking this silence on this garbage. it's time stop treating trans men and mascs this way. we're real people. we have real experiences. we are also being talked over. it really is possible to speak over us. it's happening right now. it doesn't need to. trans men talking about how we don't need to be seen this way isn't hurting trans women. we're being misgendered. we're being hurt by transandrophobic and misogynstic behavior. one does not need to hurt trans men in order to heal from one's own trauma with manhood. it won't help. it doesn't do anything

this is such a goddamn long ask but i wanted to thank you for this because your honesty and bluntness is what's needed right now. thank you to every trans man and transmasc speaking up about this right now. please feel free to send your own experiences with this because it's over. i'm not humoring it. i'm going to keep talking about it until people calm down and understand that conversations have multiple participants

i now more than ever want to actually focus on uplifting transmasculinity and trans men. i have been forcing myself to try to focus on a broader range of topics to avoid backlash but let's not start 2025 thinking we have to do this anymore. we literally don't. it's over. trans women are allowed to talk about the struggles we face. always and forever. but a trans man talking about their own experience is not an attack on you. and sometimes a trans man will give you criticism. and sometimes... you have to take it.

sometimes you have to take a trans man's criticism.

you really, really do.

and it's not the end of the world.

if a trans man tells you you're talking over them, you really should actually stop and step backwards and reassess what you said to them. you may have done it on accident. actually listen before you keep talking. if a trans man tells you they have a health condition, listen. don't participate in this behavior. there's literally no reason to think that trans men and mascs are too stupid to articulate our own experiences. it's ridiculous. that's how society treats women- you don't want to be treated that way! please don't do it to other people, especially people you view as women...

anyway i hope that this helps in any way. i'm just tired of this shit. i'm happy to start 2025 by completely and totally breaking the silence on transmasculine and trans male erasure. join me. we're not doing this shit anymore. we're starting this year off being more compassionate. we're starting off this year accepting that manhood isn't what has traumatized any of us, it's toxic masculinity, it's patriarchy, it's specific men. let's ditch this shit

[slickdickwitchbitchh]

Obx: After Dark

Chapter 1: Pilot

Summary: The roommates moved in full of hope and camaraderie, eager for a fun summer together, but things quickly soured when Rafe started stirring trouble. Tensions reached a breaking point, culminating in a heated fight between JJ and Rafe, leaving the group on edge and questioning the dynamic in the house.

A/N: the fight between JJ & Rafe is based on this fight from Vanderpump Rules, my favorite reality show i suggest watching because it’s hilarious.(i’m sorry the video is long i suggest starting at 3:05 that’s when the fight starts)

Masterlist

Pilot

Voiceover/Narrator: "The Outer Banks, a chain of islands off the coast of North Carolina, where the sun kisses the ocean, and paradise is just a few steps away... [Clip of John B.]: 'Paradise on Earth.' It's the perfect blend of wild beauty and untamed youth. Surfers, sun, and the sound of crashing waves—the OBX is a dream come true... for some. But for others, it's a playground for drama, secrets, and, well... revenge."

Cut to an aerial shot of a sprawling mansion nestled on a cliff, waves crashing beneath. The camera zooms in to the front door where the first cast member enters.

Voiceover/Narrator: "Tonight, we're taking a group of friends, exes, and enemies, and locking them together in a secluded mansion for one very special week. Why? To celebrate Y/N's 21st birthday, of course."

Cut to Y/N walking up to the grand mansion door, looking around in awe. She steps inside, and the camera follows her into the foyer.

Y/N’s Confessional Y/N is sitting in a chair with a slight smirk. "Hey, I’m Y/N. Just turned 21, finally legal. I just moved here six months ago, so I don’t subscribe to the pogues versus kooks rivalry. I’m my own person and I’m pretty much friends with everyone, as long as they don’t come for me."

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "How do you handle conflict?"

Y/N’s face hardens slightly as she thinks about it. "I mean, I have a mouth on me, I don’t take shit from no one. I’m not one to initiate a fight. I think it’s ugly and trashy, but if you’re gonna step to me, I’m gonna protect myself. What am I supposed to do? Take it? Are you kidding me?"

Producer's voice from behind the camera: "Are you a partier?"

Y/N grins and shrugs casually. "I definitely come home at six in the morning a lot."

Y/N walks into the living room, surveying the space with a smile, before hearing someone enter behind her. She turns around.

Cut to Sarah Cameron entering, her heels clicking on the marble floors. She pauses, looking around, and then the camera switches to Sarah’s confessional.

Sarah Cameron’s Confessional "I’m Sarah. I’m 22. It’s been a minute since I've seen some of these people, especially Rafe." A brief pause as her expression shifts slightly. "But what’s crazy is, my dad, Ward, he left us half of his fortune. So, I guess this trip’s gonna be... interesting. I’ve been dating John B. for about four months now, and I’m really looking forward to this week. Just... I hope nothing crazy happens. I’m all about peace and good vibes, but when it comes to Rafe and Topper... we’ll see."

Cut to Sarah entering the mansion. Y/N, excited, barrels down the stairs and jumps on Sarah, spinning her around.

Sarah: "Happy birthday, baby!" gives her a hug

They embrace for a moment before Sarah pulls back, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Sarah: "Okay, but Topper and Rafe are staying here too? That’s what he told me."

Y/N’s face falls into a nervous expression.

Y/N: "Fuck…" pauses "Well, that’s gonna be... interesting."

Sarah and Y/N lock eyes for a moment, then both spot a bottle of tequila on the counter. Without another word, they grab the bottle and each take a shot.

Cut to the front door, where John B. is struggling to carry two suitcases out of the car. The camera switches to his confessional.

John B.’s Confessional "I’m John B., 23, and I’ve been dating Sarah for the past four months. My best friends are the pogues—JJ, Pope, Kiara, Cleo, Y/N, and Sarah. As for the kooks... I don’t necessarily like them, but it’s not on sight if I see them."

Cut to John B. entering the house, dragging the bags in. He sees Sarah and Y/N laughing by the counter.

John B.: "Happy birthday, Y/N!" gives her a big hug

Y/N: "Thanks, JB! Where’s JJ?"

The camera cuts to JJ riding down the sun-kissed streets of OBX on his motorcycle. The sound of the engine rumbles as he speeds down the road.

JJ’s Confessional "I’m JJ, 23. Yeah, I don’t like kooks. And it’s on sight if I see them. I’ve got my squad—Y/N, Sarah, John B., Pope, Kiara, Cleo, and we all stick together." pauses "I’ve got a little thing for Y/N, but... it’s complicated."

JJ pulls up to the mansion on his bike, kicking the stand down. He walks inside, throwing open the front door with a grin.

JJ: "Papas home!"

The camera cuts to Sarah, John B., and Y/N rushing to greet him at the door. Y/N gives JJ a hug that lingers longer than necessary, causing Sarah to shoot John B. a subtle, knowing look. He gives Sarah a matching look, and together, they both simultaneously walk away, leaving JJ and Y/N still hugging.

Pilot (Continued)

JJ and Y/N finally pull apart, both grinning. JJ's eyes twinkle as he reaches into his bag.

JJ: "I've got your birthday gifts."

Y/N: "Gifts? Plural?"

JJ: "You know it."

He opens his tattered duffle bag, rummaging through it before pulling out a crumpled brown paper bag. He hands it to Y/N with a grin.

Y/N: She takes the bag, holding it up to her nose and sniffing it, jerking back immediately. "Woah."

JJ: "I know, right? Only the 'stickiest of ickies' for my girl’s 21st."

Y/N laughs, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

Y/N: Loudly and dramatically, she yells "STICKYYYYY!" like Tyler, The Creator and Sexy Red's song.

She gives JJ another long hug, grinning from ear to ear.

Y/N: "We’ll save it for tonight."

JJ: "Bet. And I’ll give you your other gift tonight."

Y/N: Teasing with a smirk, she raises her eyebrows. "Oooo, my other gift at night? Sounds sexy."

They both burst out laughing, the playful tension between them undeniable.

Cut to the upstairs area where everyone is gathered around, discussing sleeping arrangements. Y/N and Sarah stand in a room with four queen-sized beds. Y/N quickly claims one of the beds while Sarah glances around, counting beds.

Sarah: "Ugh, I’m guessing Kiara is coming, seeing as there are four beds."

Y/N: Scolding, she replies "Sarah, please. Just be nice and cordial for me, okay? It’s my birthday trip."

Sarah: Rolls her eyes. "Fine, but if she comes for me, all bets are off."

Y/N sighs, shaking her head.

Y/N: "This is gonna be a long week."

The camera switches to JJ and John B., who are surveying the two rooms connected by a bathroom. One has a bunk bed and a single bed, and the other has two queen beds. They exchange looks.

John B.: "We should probably take this room so we can room with Pope."

JJ: "Right, but who are those other two beds in the other room for?"

John B. goes quiet for a moment, then sighs before answering.

John B.: "Sarah told me that Topper told her that him and Rafe are coming."

JJ’s eyes widen, and he immediately jumps off the bottom bunk with a start.

JJ: "What the—who the fuck invited them!?"

John B. immediately grabs JJ’s shoulder, manhandling him back onto the bed with a calm grip.

John B.: "Easy, man. We can’t get crazy."

JJ goes quiet, deep in thought. John B. watches him, concerned.

John B.: "You good?"

JJ looks up, his expression shifting from frustration to something more controlled.

JJ: "Yeah, I’ll be cool... as long as they’re cool."

John B.: "Okay, good. This is supposed to be a fun experience. Don’t let them ruin it."

John B. lies back on his single bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to relax. JJ stares at him for a moment, a devilish look on his face.

JJ: Leaning forward, he starts rummaging through his duffle bag. "And plus, I brought my backup."

John B. opens one eye, just in time to see JJ pull something from his bag. JJ holds it up with a triumphant grin.

JJ: "Aha!"

John B. immediately opens both eyes, his face dropping as he realizes what JJ’s holding. It’s a gun—his eyes widen in shock.

The camera focuses on John B.’s worried expression as he stares at the gun.

John B. (looking directly at the camera): Panicked, his voice shaky. "Uh, JJ, man, what the hell are you doing?"

The screen immediately cuts to static, followed by an error sound effect. The camera cuts to JJ, now walking into the confessional room, a cocky grin plastered on his face.

JJ (laughing): "Sorry, y’all, I didn’t read the contract before I signed it, and apparently, there are no weapons allowed [uses air quotes]—even BB guns."

Even the producers chuckle behind the camera.

JJ: "I’m on strike one already, and we’ve only been here for 40 minutes... so... yeah, it’s gonna be a long week."

The screen fades to black, teasing what’s to come next.

Scene: Topper and Rafe’s Arrival

The sound of an engine rumbles as Rafe’s F-150 cruises down the sunny streets of the Outer Banks. The truck gleams under the sun, a reflection of Rafe’s personality—flashy, over-the-top, and unapologetic. Topper rides shotgun, sunglasses on, leaning back casually. The coastal scenery whizzes past as the two make small talk.

Topper: "Man, I can’t believe we’re doing this. A whole week in that house with them."

Rafe: Smirking, eyes on the road. "Yeah, well, free booze and drama? I’m in. Plus, I’ve got a few... loose ends to tie up."

Topper: Chuckling. "Loose ends? More like bad decisions."

Rafe: Laughing darkly. "Touché. But you know me—I make things interesting."

Topper: Glancing at Rafe. "You do realize Sarah’s gonna be there, right? And John B?"

Rafe: His smirk widens into something more sinister. "Please. Like I’m scared of them. Besides, I’ve got better things to focus on."

The truck pulls up to the secluded mansion, the ocean shimmering in the background. Both men step out, their confident strides and designer clothes immediately setting them apart from the laid-back vibes of the Outer Banks. They exchange a look, smirking as they grab their bags and head toward the house. The front door swings open, and the energy shifts as they enter, their presence palpable.

Rafe’s Confessional

Rafe leans back in the confessional chair, an unlit cigarette dangling between his fingers. He smirks at the camera, exuding cocky arrogance.

Rafe: "Name’s Rafe Cameron. Twenty-four, born and bred Kook royalty. If you don’t know what a Kook is, let me educate you. We’re the elite, the ones who run this place. The Pogues? They’re the bottom-feeders. The ones who clean our boats and beg for scraps. It’s not a rivalry. It’s reality."

He pauses, his smirk turning colder.

Rafe: "My dad, Ward Cameron, recently passed. Rest in peace, Dad." He presses a hand to his chest mockingly, then lets it fall. "Left me a fortune, so, yeah, life’s looking pretty good for me. Oh, and as for this week? Let’s just say I hooked up with Y/N last week, but I’m keeping that little detail under wraps for now. Timing is everything."

He leans forward, staring into the camera with a look that’s both charming and unsettling.

Rafe: "This week’s gonna be fun—for me."

Topper’s Confessional

Topper sits in the confessional chair, his posture relaxed but his tone serious.

Topper: "Topper Thornton. Twenty-three. Born and raised in Figure Eight. Some people think I’m just a trust-fund kid who parties too much, but there’s more to me than that."

He adjusts his sunglasses, sighing.

Topper: "So, yeah, Sarah and I broke up six months ago. It was mutual, but honestly? I think it’s the break we both needed. That said..." He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I’m here to win her back. I know she’s with John B, but let’s be real—what they have isn’t serious. It’s a phase. She’ll come around. She always does."

He leans back, smirking faintly.

Topper: "This week’s about showing Sarah who she really belongs with. Me."

Back in the house, Rafe and Topper walk into the main living area, their presence impossible to ignore. Y/N and JJ are still joking by the staircase, while Sarah and John B stand off to the side, their conversation interrupted by the new arrivals. Everyone goes quiet as the tension in the room skyrockets.

Rafe: Grinning as he surveys the group. "Well, well, well. Looks like the gang’s all here."

The camera pans to Sarah, her jaw tightening as she glances at John B. Y/N’s eyes dart between Rafe and JJ, sensing the brewing storm. JJ’s posture stiffens, his eyes narrowing at Rafe, while Topper’s gaze zeroes in on Sarah, his confident smirk unshaken.

Topper: Casually, with a slight edge. "Hey, Sarah. Long time no see."

Sarah: Her voice tight, controlled. "Not long enough."

The tension is thick, the air charged with unspoken words and unresolved history. The camera lingers on the group, capturing the shifting dynamics and subtle glares before cutting to black.

Y/N’s Secret Gets Hinted At

Upstairs, Sarah closes the door to their shared bedroom and leans against it dramatically.

Sarah: "Okay, bestie, what’s up? Why are you dodging Rafe like he’s a pop quiz?"

Y/N: "What? I’m not dodging anyone."

She starts unpacking her bag, purposefully looking down to avoid Sarah’s gaze. Sarah raises an eyebrow, crossing her arms.

Sarah: "Girl. You’re giving off major 'I did something dumb' energy. Spill."

Y/N groans, dropping onto the bed.

Y/N: "It’s not even a thing, okay? It happened once, and it was a mistake."

Sarah gasps, eyes wide.

Sarah: "Wait... are you telling me you hooked up with my brother?"

Y/N quickly shushes her, frantically waving her hands.

Y/N: "Keep your voice down! Do you want them to hear?"

Sarah flops onto the bed beside her, looking both shocked and intrigued.

Sarah: "First of all, ew. Second of all, why didn’t you tell me?! Third—wait, no—why Rafe?!"

Y/N: "I don’t know, okay? It was tequila, bad decisions, and... I don’t know. He was just... there."

Sarah sits up, giving her a pointed look.

Sarah: "That man is like a walking red flag, Y/N. Does JJ know?"

Y/N: "No, and he’s not going to. It’s not like it meant anything."

Sarah squints at her like she doesn’t quite believe her but eventually sighs.

Sarah: "Alright, fine. Your secret’s safe with me. But if this blows up, don’t say I didn’t warn you."

Y/N buries her face in her hands.

Y/N: "It’s my birthday. Can’t the universe give me a break?"

Kiara’s Arrival

Their conversation is cut short by the sound of a car door slamming. The camera cuts to Kiara stepping out of her car, her vibe effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie, ripped jeans, and sneakers. She waves at the camera with a cheeky grin.

Kiara (Confessional): "Sup, I’m Kiara. I’m 22, full-time Pogue, part-time shit-stirrer. I’m here to celebrate Y/N, keep it chill, and maybe bring some chaos. 'Cause, let’s be real, what’s a trip without a little drama?"

Back at the house, Kiara pushes open the door and shouts:

Kiara: "Where’s the birthday girl?!"

Y/N and Sarah head downstairs. Y/N grins, running over to hug Kiara.

Y/N: "Kiara! Finally, someone I actually like."

Kiara: "Happy birthday, babe! Ready to make this week unforgettable?"

Kiara’s gaze shifts to Sarah, her smile turning into a tight-lipped smirk.

Kiara: "Sarah."

Sarah: "Kiara."

The air thickens as the two exchange icy nods. Y/N sighs, stepping between them.

Y/N: "Okay, can we not? It’s my birthday. Please just act like adults for one week?"

Kiara shrugs, throwing an arm over Y/N’s shoulder.

Kiara: "Fine by me. As long as she doesn’t start anything, we’re good."

Sarah: "Trust me, I was about to say the same thing."

Y/N groans, muttering under her breath:

Y/N: "Y’all are exhausting."

The camera lingers on the tension as Kiara grabs her bag and heads upstairs to claim her bed. She passes by Rafe and Topper in the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Rafe’s cocky smirk. The scene ends with JJ watching everything from the corner, his fists clenched as the tension in the house continues to rise.

Pope and Cleo’s Arrival

The camera cuts to Pope and Cleo arriving in a sleek black SUV. Pope gets out first, adjusting his backpack with a confident but relaxed smile. Cleo follows, hopping out and glancing around curiously.

Pope (Confessional): "Hey, I’m Pope. I’m 21, and I’m here to keep the peace... or at least try to. I’m in college at USC on a full scholarship, which is where I met Cleo. She’s my ride-or-die. Bringing her along is kinda like introducing my family to my friends, so... we’ll see how that goes."

The camera shifts to Cleo, tossing her long braids over her shoulder and grinning mischievously.

Cleo (Confessional): "Hi, I’m Cleo. I’m 22, and this is my first time meeting Pope’s OBX crew. I’ve heard some wild stories, so I’m excited—and a little nervous—to see what the hype’s about. Oh, and yeah, I go to USC too. Go Trojans or whatever."

Inside the house, the group hears the door open, and Pope’s voice echoes:

Pope: "What’s up, OBX?!"

Y/N rushes to greet them, hugging Pope tightly before turning to Cleo.

Y/N: "Cleo! Finally, someone I’ve been dying to meet."

Cleo smiles, pulling Y/N into a warm hug.

Cleo: "Happy birthday, girl! Pope’s been hyping you up nonstop."

Pope grins, slinging an arm around Cleo.

Pope: "I only tell the truth."

JJ (from the kitchen): "Yo, Pope! About time. We were starting to think you bailed."

Pope: "Wouldn’t miss this for the world, man."

The Birthday Shot

The group gathers downstairs at the dining room island, where JJ has lined up tequila shots. Y/N stands in the middle, glowing as everyone crowds around her. JJ grabs his shot glass and clears his throat.

JJ: "Alright, alright, everyone shut up for a sec. This is for Y/N. The realest one I know, the only person who can put up with all of us, and... the birthday queen. Cheers to 21!"

The group cheers, lifting their glasses, but before anyone can drink, Rafe cuts in.

Rafe: "Wait, hold up. I gotta say something too."

Everyone groans, but Rafe smirks, holding his shot glass like he owns the place.

Rafe: "To Y/N. The baddest in the room. The only person who’s ever been able to handle me, and trust me, that’s no small feat. You deserve everything good in life, even if you make... interesting choices sometimes."

His gaze lingers on Y/N, a smirk playing on his lips. The group exchanges awkward glances, sensing the weight of his words. Before anyone can react, Kiara steps in.

Kiara: "To Y/N. The real MVP. The only reason I’m putting up with all these people. Here’s to a week of unforgettable memories, good energy, and no drama."

The group laughs and cheers louder this time, finally taking their shots. The camera pans across everyone’s faces, capturing the tension that still lingers despite the toast.

Y/N’s Confessional

Y/N (Confessional): "Yeah, so that toast? A little cringe. Rafe just loves to stir the pot, and I already know he’s gonna push someone’s buttons. I need to talk to him and make sure he’s on his best behavior because I swear if he starts something, it’s not gonna end well—for anyone."

The camera cuts back to the group as they finish their shots. Cleo nudges Pope, whispering something that makes him laugh. JJ eyes Rafe from across the room, his jaw clenched. Meanwhile, Sarah is scrolling on her phone, clearly trying to ignore Kiara’s presence. The tension is palpable, and the week is just getting started.

The next scene opens with the roommates lounging around the kitchen, debating what to barbeque for dinner. The countertops are scattered with an assortment of snacks, condiments, and grocery bags.

Pope leans on the island, surveying the options. "Alright, we’ve got burgers, chicken, hot dogs, and veggie burgers. What’s the move?"

"Veggie burgers, obviously," Kiara interjects with a raised eyebrow.

"I say wings," Sarah suggests, holding up a pack of chicken. "I’ll whip up a marinade."

"I got the grill," JJ announces, puffing out his chest. "It’s basically my calling."

"Yeah, right," Kiara snorts. "You’re banned after last summer. Remember? You almost burned my dad’s dock down."

"It was windy!" JJ shoots back, hands up in defense.

Rafe, leaning against the counter, smirks. "I’ll handle the bonfire. At least I know what I’m doing."

"Yeah, ‘cause playing with fire is your whole personality," JJ mutters, his voice low but cutting.

Before Rafe can respond, the kitchen door swings open, and the producer steps in, casually dressed but commanding attention with a loud clap. "Alright, everyone, can I get you to meet me in the living room? We’ve got a quick meeting."

The roommates exchange puzzled looks but shuffle into the living room, taking their spots on the oversized sectional. JJ quickly slides into the seat next to Y/N, throwing his arm casually over the back of the couch. Rafe, arriving a second too late, lingers behind them, his jaw tightening as he glares at JJ. The camera lingers on Rafe’s expression, emphasizing the tension.

The producer stands before them, clipboard in hand, his tone both cheerful and authoritative. "Okay, so here’s the deal. This week is all about bonding—getting to know each other in real life, without distractions."

"Distractions?" Y/N tilts her head, already suspicious.

The producer smirks. "Yup. That means we’ll be taking your phones for the week."

A chorus of groans ripples through the group.

"You can’t be serious," Sarah complains. "What am I supposed to do without my socials?"

"It’s for the experience," the producer explains. "No texts, no calls, no social media. Just you, your roommates, and the art of conversation."

JJ slouches dramatically, crossing his arms. "This feels illegal."

"You’ll live," Pope quips, shooting JJ a teasing grin. "Just pretend it’s the '90s."

Kiara rolls her eyes. "Or the 1890s. Back when people had actual survival skills."

"Yeah, great sales pitch," Rafe deadpans, crossing his arms behind Y/N and JJ.

The producer chuckles. "Trust me, it’ll be worth it. You’ll get your phones back at the end of the week. For now, just focus on each other. Deal?"

Y/N sighs theatrically. "Fine, but if I miss an important text, it’s on you."

"Noted," the producer says with a smile. "Alright, everyone, hand them over."

One by one, the roommates reluctantly deposit their phones into a box held by the producer. The mood is a mix of resignation and apprehension.

As the producer exits, the camera lingers on the group’s awkward silence. JJ taps Y/N’s shoulder playfully, breaking the tension. "Alright, so... who’s ready to bond without Twitter?"

Rafe’s sharp gaze on the two of them doesn’t go unnoticed as the screen cuts to black.

As the group gathers around the grill, a warm glow from the setting sun reflects off the ocean, casting a serene atmosphere over the beach. The bonfire is set up in the distance, ready for the night ahead. The sound of sizzling meat on the grill fills the air as everyone chips in to help with the cooking.

JJ is the first to take charge, tossing some burgers on the grill with exaggerated flair. "Whoever says you can’t cook a decent meal on a beach is seriously underestimating the power of my grilling skills," he declares with a grin.

Sarah, handing over a platter of veggies, raises an eyebrow. "You sure about that, JJ? You nearly set the kitchen on fire last week."

Y/N chuckles, tossing a bottle of ketchup at him. "If I end up with a burnt burger, I’m blaming you."

JJ catches it effortlessly and winks. "Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered. You’re gonna love it."

Meanwhile, Cleo is in charge of setting up the drinks by the bonfire. "Who’s in for a drink? I’ve got the good stuff!" she calls out, her voice full of mischief. "But remember, it’s a limited supply."

Kiara, having a blast as she passes a bowl of chips to Pope, leans over. "Do you think the producer’s gonna try and turn us into a drama show with all this phone confiscation nonsense?"

Pope shakes his head, laughing. "If they do, they’re in for a surprise. None of us are easy to manipulate."

Rafe, though quieter, catches Pope’s comment with a smirk, the glint in his eyes giving away his amusement. He cracks a beer open, eyeing the group as if evaluating the situation. "I think this whole thing’s gonna get real interesting," he mutters, almost to himself.

nside the small, dimly lit confessional room, John B sits in front of the camera, a relaxed grin spreading across his face as he leans back slightly in the chair. The soft hum of the room’s air conditioning is the only sound for a moment, before he starts speaking to the camera, his voice light but sincere.

"Alright, so... it’s been a bit of a weird start, not gonna lie," he begins, running a hand through his hair. "Phones? Gone. But honestly? It's kinda been a blessing in disguise. Everyone’s tipsy, everyone’s laughing, and the vibes are... good, you know? Like, there’s definitely some tension, but right now? Everyone’s chilling, having a good time. It’s like we’ve already forgotten why we were even bothered in the first place."

He pauses for a second, smiling to himself. "I just hope this keeps up, honestly. I mean, we’re all stuck here for a week together, and if we can keep this... positive energy going, maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all. But, who knows? In reality TV, things can change on a dime." He shrugs, giving the camera a playful smirk. "Fingers crossed it stays this way."

John B leans forward, his grin widening. "Anyway, I’m here for the good times, and right now, we’re definitely having those. Let’s just hope that lasts." He winks at the camera, and the screen cuts back to the group enjoying themselves around the bonfire, the sound of laughter carrying over the breeze.

Back by the grill, the laughter continues as Sarah expertly flips a couple of burgers, teasing JJ. "See, I told you I could do this better than you."

"Okay, okay, but only because I’m distracted by someone," JJ responds, glancing at Y/N with a playful wink.

Y/N rolls their eyes, not able to hide their smile. "Sure, blame it on me. You’ll be the one running for seconds once they’re done."

The group continues to laugh and joke around as they serve up the food, the mood lightening with every passing minute. As they gather around the bonfire, drinks in hand, the initial tension begins to dissolve. They all settle into the warmth of the fire and the flickering light, realizing that this trip might not be so bad after all.

John B glances around at the group, nodding to himself. "Yeah, this could be the start of something... interesting."

And as the camera pulls back, the sounds of laughter and lighthearted banter echo across the beach, the night just beginning.

Just as the laughter dies down, Topper stands up from where he’d been lounging on a nearby log, holding up a bottle in one hand. He flashes a mischievous grin.

"Alright, alright, enough with the Pope stories," he says, his voice carrying a playful tone. "How about we spice things up a little with a game? Truth or drink, anyone?"

The group exchanges amused glances, intrigued by the suggestion.

Rafe chuckles, leaning forward. "Now we’re talking. This is how you get to know people."

Kiara, already sipping from her drink, raises an eyebrow. "Oh, this is gonna get interesting."

"Alright," Topper continues, settling back into his seat with the bottle. "I’ll start. Y/N, truth or drink?"

Y/N looks around the group for a moment before deciding, "I’ll go with truth."

Topper’s grin widens. "Alright, spill. Which roommates have you kissed?"

The group falls silent for a second, the tension hanging in the air as all eyes turn to Y/N, who takes a slow sip from their drink. They set the glass down, not missing a beat.

"Well," Y/N begins, a teasing glint in their eyes, "I’ve kissed all the boys at some point... except for you, Topper."

A collective laugh erupts from the group, some people shaking their heads in disbelief, others just enjoying the unexpected honesty. JJ raises his glass with a playful grin. "Guess I’m the favorite," he says, leaning back confidently.

Topper shrugs, clearly amused. "Alright, I’ll take that as a compliment. But now it’s your turn, JJ."

The playful mood shifts slightly as Rafe suddenly leans in, an eyebrow arched, his tone a bit more pointed. "So, JJ," he starts, eyes locking onto him, "who was that one girl you hooked up with last month? You know, the one you’ve been dodging talking about."

The air grows a little colder, the group sensing the shift. JJ’s smile falters for just a second, his eyes flicking toward the bottle of liquor.

He takes a deep breath, then grabs the bottle and pours himself a drink, not saying a word. His eyes briefly meet Rafe’s, but instead of responding, he tips the bottle back, taking a long swig.

The room falls into an awkward silence for a moment, the tension between the two palpable. Finally, JJ slams the bottle down on the ground with a lighthearted chuckle. "Alright, moving on," he says, clearly avoiding the question. "Who’s next?"

The group hesitates for just a moment before the tension begins to dissolve. Kiara nudges Pope, forcing a smile. "Okay, Pope, truth or drink?"

The camera lingers on the group, their laughter hesitant but building once more as the game continues, the vibes slowly lightening again, despite the brief awkwardness that lingers in the air.

The scene opens with the group gathered around the bonfire, now buzzing with activity as they begin the task of cleaning up after dinner. Plates clink together, and the smell of grilled food still lingers in the air as everyone works together, washing dishes and tidying up the space. There's a lighthearted mood—until Topper, wiping his hands on a dish towel, casually leans back and says something that cuts through the buzz of conversation like a knife.

"You know," Topper says, his voice a bit too loud for the moment, "Sarah and I used to do this all the time. You know, go on trips like this. Good times."

John B freezes for a split second, his hand tightening around the dish he’s drying, his jaw clenching visibly. The smile on his face falters, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace as his eyes flick toward Sarah. He says nothing, but the tension in the air is palpable.

Sarah, still focused on drying a glass, suddenly goes rigid, her face hardening. She doesn’t even look at Topper when she snaps, "Topper, shut up."

The words hang in the air, cutting the moment short. The group falls silent for a heartbeat before the sound of dishes clattering resumes, but the mood has shifted. The easy camaraderie is replaced with an uncomfortable energy, a quiet discomfort that seems to settle over everyone.

As the group begins to move on with the task, Rafe sees an opportunity to stir the pot further. Watching the tension play out, he casually gets up from the table, a sly smile tugging at his lips. He looks toward Y/N, who’s distracted by the cake preparations. Slowly, he approaches them, his voice smooth as he addresses them in a low, almost conspiratorial tone.

"Hey," Rafe starts, leaning slightly toward Y/N. "You seemed a lot happier last week when it was just... us." His eyes flicker knowingly, leaving the implication in the air without outright saying it. "It’s kinda funny how things change, huh?"

Y/N, caught off guard by his insinuation, stiffens for a moment, but quickly recovers. They force a smile, unsure of how to respond. "What’s your point, Rafe?"

Rafe shrugs casually, his smile remaining almost too sweet. "Just making an observation. You looked like you were having a good time back then. I wonder what changed."

The weight of his words hangs over Y/N as they try to ignore the growing unease bubbling inside. The tension between the group is palpable now, and Rafe’s subtle mind games are only adding fuel to the fire.

The camera captures the way Y/N’s gaze darts around the group, noticing the lingering discomfort, especially between John B and Sarah. They feel the weight of the situation bearing down on them, and despite the surprise birthday cake still in the works, it’s clear that this vacation has become anything but relaxing.

As the group gathers around the table to set up the cake, the atmosphere is thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension, leaving everyone wondering just how much longer the fragile peace will hold.

The scene cuts to the afterglow of the birthday celebration. The group is gathered around the bonfire, the flickering flames illuminating their faces as they finish singing "Happy Birthday" to Y/N. Laughter fills the air as Y/N blows out the candle on the cake, the group cheering and clapping. But despite the cheerful atmosphere, Y/N feels a sudden urge to step away, to get a moment of peace.

She makes her way inside the house, finding the hallway empty, the sounds of the party fading into the distance. Leaning against the wall just a few feet away is Rafe, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. Y/N stops in front of him, and for a moment, the only sound is the distant hum of the party.

Rafe pushes off from the wall, standing so close to Y/N that she can smell his cologne—deep and musky, with a faint hint of something else that makes her heart race just a little faster. His presence is magnetic, and for a split second, it’s easy to fall back into their old rhythm.

"You look good tonight," Rafe says with a smile, his tone smooth, almost too casual. He steps a little closer, his breath almost brushing against Y/N’s skin. "It’s funny, you know? I never forget how easy it is to fall back into this." He gestures vaguely between them, the unspoken history hanging heavy in the air.

Y/N glances at him, her heartbeat picking up speed, but she’s careful not to let it show. She crosses her arms over her chest, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her lips. "I’m not doing this with you, Rafe," she says quietly but firmly. "I don’t want any drama."

Rafe’s smile falters just for a moment, but he quickly masks it with a shrug. "Drama?" he repeats, almost mockingly. "Come on, we both know what we’ve had before. It’s nothing but fun, right?" His gaze never leaves Y/N, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that only adds to the tension. "I was just saying, I’ve missed this—us."

Y/N swallows, resisting the pull of his gaze. "I really like JJ," she says, her voice softer, almost apologetic, but steady. "I’m not going down that road again with you."

Rafe doesn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening just the slightest bit. The words sting more than he lets on, but he keeps his cool, a forced smile creeping onto his face. "JJ, huh?" he says, the hint of sarcasm in his voice, though the bitterness remains hidden. "Well, I guess you’ve got your type."

There’s a flicker in Rafe’s eyes, something dark and possessive, but it disappears just as quickly as it appears. He tilts his head, his voice lower now, teasing. "It’s not like it ever stopped being easy between us. You sure you want to play it that way?"

Y/N stands her ground, feeling the weight of the unspoken things between them. "I’m not playing games with you, Rafe," she replies, voice firm but with a quiet undercurrent of frustration.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air is thick with tension, the past between them lingering, but neither one willing to push too far. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Rafe lets out a breath, his expression unreadable.

He steps forward, closing the small gap between them, and pulls Y/N into a hug, brief but tight. It’s almost too easy to fall back into this—into the familiarity of his touch, the weight of his body pressing against hers. Y/N hesitates for a moment before returning the hug, her arms encircling his waist, though it feels almost instinctive, like it’s something they’ve done a thousand times before.

Rafe pulls away slightly, looking down at her with a faint, almost sad smile. "You’re not gonna tell him, are you?" he asks, his voice low and casual, but with an underlying question that hangs between them.

Y/N just shakes her head, not trusting herself to speak. She can feel the tension building again, the space between them filled with a thousand things left unsaid.

"Guess we’ll just have to leave it at that," Rafe murmurs, his voice quiet, eyes lingering on Y/N a moment longer before he steps back. His expression is unreadable, but the distance between them feels heavier now, like something is shifting, something irreversible.

With a final look, Rafe turns and walks away, leaving Y/N standing in the hallway, her thoughts swirling. The hug lingers in her mind, the heat of Rafe’s presence still pressing against her skin, and she realizes that while the conversation is over, the complexity of her feelings is far from simple.

The camera lingers on Y/N as she stands in the hallway, her thoughts still heavy after the conversation with Rafe. A moment later, Rafe walks past her, heading back to the kitchen with a purposeful stride. He doesn’t look back, but the smirk on his face suggests something is brewing, and Y/N can’t shake the feeling that something's off.

Inside the kitchen, the group is still buzzing with energy, the sounds of laughter and playful banter drifting through the house. Meanwhile, Rafe pulls Topper aside, his voice low but urgent.

"Hey," Rafe starts, his gaze scanning the room quickly before he locks eyes with Topper. "I’ve got something that’ll make the night a little more interesting. You in?"

Topper, looking intrigued but cautious, raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

Without another word, Rafe motions for Topper to follow him, and they slip out of the kitchen, walking down the hallway towards the bathroom. The sounds of the group in the next room grow fainter as the camera follows them, the atmosphere in the house shifting as they enter the bathroom.

As the door clicks shut behind them, the camera’s angle shifts slightly, picking up the faint sound of sniffing through their mics—enough to hint at what’s really going on inside. The camera lingers on the bathroom door for a few seconds, allowing the tension to build before cutting back to the rest of the group.

Meanwhile, the roommates in the living room are oblivious to the shift in energy as they continue playing a lively game of Uno. Everyone is laughing, teasing one another, and the playful arguments escalate over who’s cheating and who’s got the best hand. JJ is animated, gesturing wildly at Cleo as she steals another card, while Kiara gives Pope a look of mock suspicion, accusing him of stacking the deck.

The room feels light and carefree, but then the door creaks open, and Rafe and Topper return, both of them noticeably jittery, their energy somehow more frantic. The camera catches Rafe’s eyes darting around the room, his smile a little too wide, while Topper shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

Y/N, sitting across from them, catches the odd behavior almost immediately. She narrows her eyes, side-eyeing the pair as they try to blend back in with the group. Something about their sudden restlessness doesn’t sit right with her.

"Everything okay with you two?" Y/N asks, her voice casual, but there's an edge to it. She watches them both closely, her intuition already on high alert.

Rafe’s smile falters for a fraction of a second before he grins again, but it’s a bit too forced. "Yeah, just a little… bathroom break. You know how it is," he says, his words coming out too quickly, and Topper nods in agreement, though he looks less convinced.

Y/N doesn’t buy it. Her gaze flickers between them, but she says nothing more, instead focusing on the game at hand. Still, the unease she feels lingers in the back of her mind, and she can’t shake the feeling that something has shifted in the atmosphere, something no one else has noticed.

The group resumes their game, but the tension is palpable, the playful mood slightly dimmed as Y/N glances from one of them to the other, trying to ignore the growing suspicion gnawing at her.

The evening grows late, and the atmosphere is electric with tension and laughter as the group continues to play games. Music plays softly in the background, but there’s a palpable shift in energy. Everyone seems to be loosening up, the drinks flowing freely, but Y/N can feel the weight of the subtle animosity building between Rafe and JJ.

At one point, JJ, clearly trying to lighten the mood, hands Y/N a drink, flashing her a smile that feels a little too friendly.

"Here you go," JJ says, holding the drink out to her with a playful grin.

Y/N reaches out to take it, but before she can, Rafe steps in, leaning casually against the arm of the couch and holding up a drink of his own. "Actually," he says, voice dripping with smugness, "I made this one. It’s better."

Y/N hesitates, glancing between Rafe’s drink and the one in her hand. JJ’s eyes narrow as he steps forward, his tone sharp. "Oh yeah, definitely trust a drink from this guy," he sneers, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words.

Rafe smirks, never one to back down from a challenge. "Jealous much?" he taunts, his voice smooth and mocking, the edge of competition clear in his words.

The group falls silent for a moment, the tension palpable. Y/N can feel the heat rising between them, and before she can even respond, JJ throws a quick, biting remark. "You’ve always been a joke, Rafe."

Rafe’s smirk falters, the jabs hitting harder than expected, and before anyone can intervene, the argument escalates. JJ steps forward aggressively, his face reddening with frustration. "You think you’re so much better than everyone else," he spits out, his voice low and dangerous. "You don’t even belong here."

"You don’t even know what I’m capable of," Rafe retorts, his eyes flashing with anger.

Without warning, JJ’s fist flies through the air, connecting with Rafe’s jaw in a brutal punch that echoes through the room. The impact sends Rafe stumbling back, but he doesn’t fall. His bloodied lip splits open, a trickle of red staining his chin. The room erupts into chaos, everyone scrambling to intervene as the physical fight between the two men intensifies.

Y/N watches in shock as Rafe wipes the blood from his lip with a slow, almost amused expression. The fight spirals out of control, but Y/N steps forward, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Stop it, both of you!" she demands, her tone harsh as she locks eyes with Rafe.

The camera focuses on Rafe’s face, his bloodied expression somehow matching the twisted, dark smile creeping across his lips. He looks at Y/N, his voice low and mocking. "Really? You’re disgusted by me, but you came twice." His words cut deep, and the room goes silent, everyone holding their breath as the weight of what he just said hangs in the air.

Y/N’s face flushes with anger, her eyes flashing with pure disgust. "You sicken me," she spits out, her voice trembling with fury.

JJ, enraged by the comment, charges at Rafe again, but Pope and Kiara are quick to grab hold of him, holding him back with all their strength. JJ struggles, fighting against their grip, but Pope and Kiara are firm, keeping him from lunging at Rafe once more.

Rafe stands there, his bloody face a picture of sick satisfaction as he watches JJ struggle to break free. His smile widens, a cruel, almost victorious look in his eyes as he surveys the chaos he’s caused.

The camera zooms in on Rafe’s face, bloodied and twisted with that unsettling grin, while Y/N watches him, still seething, her hands shaking with the anger she can’t quite release. The fight, though momentarily halted, lingers in the air, the tension so thick that it’s impossible to ignore.

The group remains frozen, the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them all as the night feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something far darker.

Next time on OBX: After Dark...

The screen fades in from black, showing a quick montage of the tense aftermath from the night before. Each roommate speaks in their own confessional, offering their thoughts on the explosive events.

JJ’s Confessional: "Man, things got way too heated last night. Rafe’s just... a walking headache, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep my cool with him around."

Kiara’s Confessional: "Honestly, I’ve never seen the group like that. I thought we were here to have fun, but now it feels like a ticking time bomb."

Pope’s Confessional: "It’s getting out of hand. We’ve gotta stop this before someone gets seriously hurt. I mean, JJ throwing a punch—what’s next?"

Cleo’s Confessional: "I hate that I’m caught in the middle of this mess. I just wanted a good time... but I don’t think anyone’s having fun anymore."

Sarah’s Confessional: "Rafe and JJ… that was wild. But if I’m being honest, I’m kind of over the whole drama. Maybe I should’ve never let it go this far."

Topper’s Confessional: "Yeah, last night was intense. But honestly? It’s just gonna get worse from here. I’m not here to play nice anymore."

Rafe’s Confessional: "Everyone thinks they can control the situation. But I’ll tell you one thing—nobody gets to call the shots but me. This is just the beginning."

The screen flashes forward to the next day, showing Topper and Rafe exchanging sly grins as they invite a group of girls into the house. The camera zooms in on the shocked faces of the other roommates as they watch from the kitchen, their anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Y/N’s Confessional: "Topper and Rafe really think they can just bring people here like that? It’s like they don’t even care how the rest of us feel."

John B’s Confessional: "This isn’t a frat party. What are they trying to prove? We don’t need more chaos."

The screen cuts to Kiara and Sarah in the middle of an intense argument, their voices raised.

Kiara (yelling): "What, that you're a liar?"

Sarah (snapping back): "No, that you’re a shit-talking bitch!"

The room goes silent for a moment, followed by an exaggerated "Oooh!" from the rest of the group. The other roommates exchange shocked glances, their eyes wide at the sudden escalation.

Pope (whispering to Cleo): "Did that just happen?"

Cleo (eyes wide): "I think we’re about to see a whole new level of chaos."

The camera zooms in on Kiara and Sarah, both standing with fury in their eyes as the tension builds. The other roommates exchange nervous glances, unsure of how this argument will play out.

Coming up... The screen cuts to black as the voiceover echoes with suspense.

"Who will be pushed to their breaking point? And will the tension finally explode?"

taglist: @mymadokamagica @izurelia @davinashifts333 @hello-therree @cyberkitty1

[forest-enchantress]

Here is a #30 gifs of Lucy Boynton in I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House. All of these gifs were made by me from scratch, so do not redistribute or claim them as your own. If using, please give this a like and reblog!

[stenclastiel]

Osgood Perkins is a great director, but he seriously needs a good screenwriter.

[n0vilunium]

So Am I - out now!

for fans of Kate Bush, Sarah Kinsley, Tori Amos, Bjork, Caroline Polachek and The Last Dinner Party!

So Am I grew from multiple sources of inspiration and thinking. The phrase “so am i” came from what i would say to reassure myself when i was convinced my home was haunted. It was a kind of mantra to remind myself that i could be scarier than whatever was scaring me. As i grew older and moved through the world, i came to the realisation that this applies more broadly, especially when you are anybody who is made to feel afraid of being yourself. Most often the oppressor is far more afraid of you than you should be of them. The song is also inspired by a number of horror films and stories that use haunting as a metaphor for women being trapped in the domestic space.

very excited to share with you.

[horrorvillaintourney]

i'm always really weirded out when a horror movie is set in mass because it's always a very aestheticized experience. i always feel that it is inauthentic and alien to me, despite having lived here my whole life. i feel that horror set in new england is mostly either stephen king or written by authors who've never spent more than a week in the rural parts but like the concept of the witch trials or the puritans, and even when they try to emulate it and do some research, they come up short. it's obviously not a huge issue - rural massachusetts deserves to be mocked sometimes and it's not as if we're talking about cultural appropriation here (not usually. i mean. the old indian burial ground thing still happens in these parts and is very bad.).

HOWEVER, all of this to say that there are a million bad horror movies centered around massachusetts, but i should never have doubted oz perkins. likely thing to happen in mass.

[josephinepineconey]

[mater-argento]

The films of Osgood Perkins

[hannahwatcheshorror]

I AM THE PRETTY THING THAT LIVES IN THE HOUSE (2016)

This is a sleepy little artistic film made by netflix. Spooky and ooky? Sure! Sad and slow? You bet! Exciting and fast paced? Not here! Interesting little flick about ghosts (and fate possibly). Poetic monologues peppered throughout keep you locked into this sleepy little tale.

⭐⭐⭐

A peculiar little artistic film about ghosts but I am not sure why this ghost in particular scared our protagonist to death. That appears, at the end, to be how she dies unless the ghost did any more spooky poltergeist activity off screen but otherwise we just had Lily screaming and then she is on the floor after spotting Polly so one could make the leap that she was frightened to death. When Lily first came to the home to do hospice care for Ms. Blum, Lily informed us that she just turned 28 and would not make it to her 29th year so we knew from the start she was doomed (it is just that she didn’t know that, not until after the fact). 

Ms. Blum had written 14 novels of scary stories, her most famous being about Polly, her lady in the walls, and this story was apparently told to Ms. Blum by Polly herself which is spooky! You think it is fiction or a dementia thing but really there is a ghost in the house and her name is/was Polly and she used to tell Ms. Blum all about her life and then death (before she got all turned around). They say we don’t know how she died but the title of the book is “The Lady in the Walls” so take a wild guess at where she died. After Lily is scared to death, Ms. Blum passes away, presumably from being left alone but she becomes her young self as a ghost and is back to writing books again (but still looking for Polly).

Polly was nowhere to be seen since the night of Lily’s death and only appears briefly as a half backwards specter to possibly kill the next inhabitants of the home. And then there is Lily. Lily, our pretty thing, is still in the house, and she will rot there, as she tells us herself. She informs us we can borrow the home from her, but it is hers even though she didn’t speak to ghostly Ms. Blum. Very strange to be sure. There is also this idea that a home with a person who died in it is always haunted but that is such an American idea because all our houses are newer Otherwise everyone else is fucked and haunted always. I don’t think all houses with death are haunted, not all ghosts would want to stay, besides things would get crowded fast, don’t you think?

[bebe-benzenheimer]

Countdown to Halloween: 31 Days of Horror Movies (prompts from goryhorroor)

Day 30: A Netflix Original horror movie

"It can't be too much longer now. Because time spent in a house with a death in it passes more quickly, you know." - I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House (2016)

[mylifenoir]

I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives In The House is a cryptic ghost story from Netflix - here's how the movie ends. I Am The Pretty Thing That Lives In The House is directed by Osgood Perkins, who previously helmed slow-burn 2015 horror The Blackcoat's Daughter. That film starred Emma Roberts (Scream Queens) and told a non-linear tale about possession and isolation. What the movie lacked in jump scares it made up for with great performances and shocking twists.

[themostleastuseful]

A Review of a Thing

Greetings denizens of the incomprehensible abyss known as the internet, I am a random nobody who criticizes the art of people far more talented than I will ever be. This is the first time I have done anything remotely like this, so do not be surprised if you find it lacking. I know I sure do. Anyhoo, today I will be talking about a horror movie that wants to be a poem so badly that it forgot to have a point.

How do I describe I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House? Boring is too simple a word for how little I cared about anything that happened in this movie. Maybe colorless, or would that be too obvious? When the most interesting thing in a multimillion dollar film is a mold stain, money has not been spent well. It is styled as a gothic horror in the tradition of The Fall of the House of Usher and other Edgar Allen Poe works, but Poe it is not. His stories had themes more interesting than “death is kind of scary, right?”

The movie is about a woman named Lily who is hired to work as a live-in nurse for an old horror novelist (named Iris Blum) with dementia. A simple setup with potential for interesting payoffs. Are there going to be nightmarish creatures spawned from the mind of a creative individual slowly losing their grip on reality? Is the nurse on the run from a past she can never truly escape? Will the main character ever go outside? All of these questions, and more, will be immediately answered no because there isn’t enough time between all the shots of walls.

The plot goes thusly: The nurse shows up, Iris mistakes her for the ghost she’d been talking to for inspiration, Lily reads the book based on Polly (the ghost)’s story and figures out that it had actually happened in the house, then sees Polly in person and dies of a heart attack. Iris dies too because there was nobody left to care for her, then the last ten minutes are Lily monologuing about how dead she is. 

Lily is one of the main problems I have with the movie. For starters, she talks like a grandma with an odd cadence reminiscent of someone telling a bedtime story. It kind of works for her monologues (though the language is so flowery it makes me want to sneeze) but she even does it when talking to her friend, who she calls a slut the way you might call a puppy silly. I am aware that the actress is British, but then why make her do an American accent? 

 Lily is a mix of childish and extremely odd that might make sense if she were supposed to be mentally handicapped in some way, but there is absolutely no indication that she is. Not to say it would be a bad thing, I’m autistic myself. It’s just that, if you’re going to make such a character, you’re going to need to establish or at least hint at it at some point.

 There is a ghost, but we never really find out much about her or her motives. It seems like she wants to show the world what her ultimate fate was, but then she goes and makes Lily hallucinate that there’s mold growing on her arms (the only remotely interesting scene in the movie, by the way.) What’s that for? If she just wants vengeance on the living, why does she tolerate the writer living in her house for decades? Why was she murdered anyway? What’s the significance of her walking around with her upper half on backwards? 

While I complain, the movie does manage to set an atmosphere of doom. The house feels empty and dark even during the day, and the music sets you on edge when it’s supposed to. The problem is, though, that the movie barely does anything with it. building tension without adequate release leaves viewers feeling stressed. A movie that has you feeling worse than when you started is not one you want to see again. Anyway, more complaining.

Like I said before, there is a foundation for something good buried within the snores. The movie has themes of aging and decay, with Iris being shown to have once been quite attractive, but time has taken her mind and body.  Very gothic horror, but none of it feels like it was used to its proper potential. It should have focused more on the author and her futile struggle against time, with the house visibly deteriorating as a reflection of it. Maybe the ghost could change too, slowly becoming more corpselike until it disappears and the actual body busts out of its hole to do some spooking. As it is, I Am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House bats the idea of beauty being transient around like a cat with a toy but never goes in for the kill. (The two central characters are named after flowers ooo so deep)