#lighthouse of my soul

[gvfmarge]

Lighthouse of my Soul

(Ghost)Jake x Reader Coming soon!

“Could you be the lighthouse for my soul, could you be the guiding light, tell me everything’s alright? Could you be the one I love so?”

Some chapters will contain smut and difficult topics, MDNI 18+

Little sneak peak (this is unedited, apologies in advance):

Were you running away? From what? It didn’t matter. You felt like you had finally reached your destination. You felt the ocean was your new beginning. The Outer Banks had always been your comfort place, growing up vacationing here was always your favorite. It felt like home every time you visited, so it was a no brainer when you had been offered a temporary position at the local newspaper in Hatteras. You felt that you were going to finally make something of yourself. All the hard work you had put into studying and writing was going to pay off.

You had luckily stumbled upon a tiny cottage to rent. The owner explaining it had been built in 1874 and had weathered many storms and tribulations. It had originally been part of the life-saving station before they had built a newer building and eventually became the Coast Guard. The house had endured damage along the years from storms and each time had been repaired. When you stepped foot inside, you could feel the history. The floorboards squeaked with each step inside, taking a deep breath it smelled like sea salt and fresh air. Everything in the house was basically original. The dark hardwood floors showed signs of wear, with little scratches here and there and you could see the discoloration throughout the house where many footsteps had worn down the stain. The walls were fully covered in shiplap and had been sanded down and painted a beautiful light blue color. The kitchen was small, with only 3 overhead cabinets, a small older fridge and a stove. The living room was connected to the kitchen, you could barely see where the owners had taken out the wall to try and have somewhat of an open concept. Slowly inspecting each room, you came to realize just how small it was compared to the pictures you had viewed online. You realized you might not even have enough space for a couch and a table, but you would figure logistics out later. Walking up the steep rickety stairs you came upon a short hallway, at the end was a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor with an amazing view of the beach and ocean outside of the house, from the second floor it seemed you could see forever over the horizon. There are two bedrooms split by the hallway. Looking inside the room to your left, you noticed a small desk sitting underneath a window looking out to the ocean. On it, sat an empty white vase and a typewriter. It piqued your curiosity, the home came unfurnished and you were not made aware of anything left behind for you to use.

Walking over to it, you sat down in the tiny wooden chair and ran your fingers over the vintage keys. As soon as your fingertips met with the cold metal, you felt electricity flow through your hand, up your arm and down your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin and you quickly pulled your hand away. The shock and stress of moving must be getting to you, you thought. You gazed out the window taking in the ocean waves. You were finally alone, it felt peaceful but somehow, you felt a longing in the house. There was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

You felt a presence with you and quickly turned around to the entrance of the room. You could have sworn you felt eyes on you but there wasn’t a soul there. You slowly turned your body around again to face the window and your mind wondered back to the memories you had that led you here. Suddenly, a faint smell of tobacco burning filled the room. The sweet but heavy aroma seemed to swirl around your body. It was intoxicating but slightly overwhelming. You felt frozen for just a moment, not quite understanding what was happening. With another deep breath you slowly stood up and scanned the room for any sign of someone else. As quickly as the tobacco smell came, it was gone. You shrugged the smell off to the history of the cottage and made your way back downstairs to begin unpacking and making yourself finally feel at home.

[fantastic-nonsense]

you think Kaz Brekker's most iconic kill is the guy he threw overboard because he nearly killed Inej

I think Kaz Brekker's most iconic kill is the law clerk he dropped off a lighthouse because he was blackmailing a sex worker

we are not the same

[butt-puncher]

Still a wip but I wanted to post a spooky nico summoning spirits from their watery grave for halloween 👻

Edit:

Heres a close up :) 🦋

[low-quality-microwave]

hey objectum/posic buddies. do any of y'all have "unconventional" beloved objects? please share i am so curious

[scooby-doo-exploration]

[desalvar]

TAG DROP

[nacaharachuya]

imagine getting into reading because you had sex with someone who was fucked stupid enough to make a classical literature reference in bed (selkie chuuya learns how to read)

😭😭😭 listen Svs Dazai was having a brain lapse when they had sex in that one chapter. He was itching to make it good for Chuuya. but if he was stupider he’d be sweating on Chuuya like “in blah blah there is a sequential scene like this…” and chuuya is like “…..lay down if you wanna talk I’m hopping on😐”

[woobble42069]

i love the halo family

[dreamswillbeyourwintermeat]

I was not meant to be perceived 8 hours a day

[rampantrhino]

❤💞❤

You’re lighting up my flame from the inside. How did you get in? I don’t even know how to get in.

[gvfmarge]

Lighthouse of my Soul Masterlist

“Could you be the lighthouse for my soul, could you be the guiding light, tell me everything’s alright? Could you be the one I love so?”

When you finally land your dream job, in your dream location, you find that your tiny cottage has a surprise resident. Through spooky events and creepy happenings, you learn more about your past, and your future, than you ever bargained for.

(Ghost) Jake x Reader

Warnings: Will eventually contain ghost smut 🤭 Talks of mental/emotional familial abuse, (light) self image/self esteem, drinking, cussing, etc. Each chapter will come with its own warnings.

•This is my very first multipart fic, I’m no writer by any means but it brings me joy to get the random thoughts out of my brain. I hope you enjoy!•

This is completely fictional (obviously) I do not know or claim to know any of the Kiszka’s or Jake specifically. Some parts of this story will be historically/geographically accurate, but it’s about a ghost- come on yall.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three (Teaser)

If you are interested in being added to the tag list, just let me know!

[opheliapurple]

One of my favorite things about Arthur and John’s weird relationship is their refusal to properly delegate.

In quite literally every other shared-body story in the history of mankind, working together in tandem with each other would be one of the very first things attempted.

Sure we have “ORTHUR, Jesus Christ orthur they’re dead. They’re all dead. FUCK orthur, it’s Thomas the Tank Engine. He’s staring at you orthur. There’s blood everywhere- WE NEED TO GO-“ etc etc, but that doesn’t count. They fail every single Quick Time event that crosses their path because sometimes John will deliver information, sometimes Arthur will make an action, and neither will happen at the same time.

They both act like they’re just standing very close to one another. They have the problem solving capabilities of two people losing a three legged race.

They are tasked with minding a lighthouse flame upon pain of mysterious and creepy monster-death and god forbid BOTH of them pitch in at the same time. Could you imagine either of them being that reasonable? Their hearts would give out under the strain.

Instead tweedlestupid with one hand and zero eyes minds the light while tweedlestupider with one hand and two eyes dedicates every sense available to the crusade of maintaining their back and forth pre/post/current divorce level bitching.

But even before that, the way they chose to tackle the feat of driving was as insane as it was hilarious. That’s when I knew they were incurable morons and deserved to be stitched together on the celestial plane for the rest of their arcane lives.

Tldr: You could merge the consciousness of any other two souls on this planet together and get a more immediately capable pair. That’s how you know they’re soulmates.

[namizc]

tag dump iv

[septembersghost]

I enjoyed this AG clip - youtu(.)be/_u_TswLQ4ws I found it as I was listening to Epiphany by TS. It struck a cord because my sister is a nurse (I was scared for her during covid) & then we lost our father to cancer. The song reminded of things unspoken. I loved the interesting dialogue & stories in the Epiphany comments on YT- a granddaughter (elizzybec in top comments) realized the unspeakable trauma of war to her grandpa had a ripple effect only after he was gone- she wished she understood.

that interview of andrew's is so touching, his vulnerability and eloquence in saying that just...moves me to tears every time. and it's true, we always live with that well of unexpressed love, all the unspoken things we realize afterwards we desperately wish we could've said, and there's never enough time, no matter how long it is, to give enough of that love away.

i can only imagine how worrisome it must've been to have a loved one who was a frontline worker during the pandemic, and my sincere condolences on the loss of your father as well. there's something powerful about art that can tap into that vein of grief with clarity.

my grandpa served in wwii, though he was a pilot and was never really on the ground, he shared many stories with us grandchildren when we were little, and looking back, i wish we had them on tape, just like i wish we had more of him singing. i know it affected him and to some degree echoed through his life. we don't think about preserving those irreplaceable moments sometimes until it's too late. epiphany is difficult for me to listen to, not because it isn't great but because it is quite affecting, she manages to distill and capture that pain and quiet fear of both war and the pandemic and layer them together with such poignancy. it makes me think very much of that lyric in marjorie too - i should've asked you questions...asked you to write it down for me.

[scooby-doo-exploration]

my-love-my-soul

[cabbagegunk]

did a haunted portrait of my dog as her eyes hold the soul of a tragically deceased lighthouse keeper