brain ghost having a hard time

100 Ways to Say “I Love You” No. 47

“Did you get my letter?”

Requested by @blissfulcastiel | Human!AU, reuniting, fluff with a little tiny bit of angst


The last time Castiel had seen Dean was midnight the day he left.

Stolen kisses in Castiel’s unlit bedroom, frenzied hands not wanting to let go. Castiel could still feel Dean’s hands on his bare hips underneath one of Dean’s t-shirt he’d borrowed. It no longer fit but he kept it in a drawer for safe keeping anyway.

It had been seven years. He never expected to see Dean standing in front of him once again.

It was like looking at a ghost. Dean was very much the same but different too. He was older, of course, and had a small scruff on his face and lines across his brow. His eyes were still a beautiful green but they looked tired. There was a scar on his forehead that look particularly nasty.

They stood several meters apart, seemingly unable to move towards each other. Silence engulfed them.

Castiel’s heart was beating fast as he long to run to Dean. He’d spent the last seven years wishing Dean would come back and now he had. It was obvious his brain was having a hard time coping with it.

Finally, he moved towards Dean slowly. He wondered what Dean had been up to the past seven years, if he even cared for him any longer. He’s here, so maybe. Dean had come back and he’d come back to see Cas or perhaps he’d just come to announce he had someone else. Dean wouldn’t do that, he’s not like that. Then, people change.

Castiel’s stomach ached. His gut twisted in ways he never thought possible, the excitement he’d felt when he first saw Dean’s face now twisted into agony.

They were mere inches apart, neither of them said a word but Castiel wanted to.

“Did… did you get my letter?” Castiel asked, voice barely above a whisper. He’d slipped it into Dean backpack as he left.

Dean nodded. “I came back. Just like you asked.”

I love you, Dean Winchester. Please come back.

It was the bottom line of the letter, the rest of it waxing poetic about Dean and some select memories.

Dean’s hand moved towards his back pocket and he pulled out the sheet of paper. Castiel watched his hands as he unfolded the letter, delicate from the years. The coffee mug stain was still there albeit faded. The paper was dirty, especially at the creases and there were a few greasy thumbprints of the back.

“You kept it?”

“Couldn’t get rid of it.” Dean’s eyes softened and suddenly, Castiel was embraced in a warm hug. If he wasn’t so tense, he’d have melted into Dean the moment he touched him. “I’ve been waiting to come back for a very long time.” The words were muffled into Cas’ shoulder.

Castiel didn’t really understand what that meant. Why hadn’t Dean contacted him?

Dean pulled away and looked at Castiel “Dad died three years ago. Sam went to Stanford. I had a job over in Palo Alto for a bit but Sam was doing okay on his own, ya know – he’s got a fiancé now. I was thinking maybe I wasn’t staying around for Sam anymore and maybe I was staying around just because I was putting this off. Shouldn’t have though.”

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Cas replied quietly not sure how to respond to his last comment.

“Yeah, me too. Eighteen-wheeler hit us on the freeway.”

“You were in the car!?” Cas said with concern and then he remembered the scar on Dean’s forehead.

“Yeah, I’m not convinced dad even had a chance. He was conscious when we got to the hospital but it all went downhill from there. I woke up from surgery to Sam telling me dad was gone.” Dean’s eyes were a little misty so Cas pulled him in again.

“Seems we have a lot to catch up on. Coffee?”

Dean smiled. Castiel remembered that smile like the last time he had seen it was yesterday. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Black? No sugar, no creamer, no nothing that makes it taste good?” the words rolled off his tongue with ease and suddenly it felt as if Dean had never left. There was still a gap in his heart but he hoped Dean would stay long enough to fill it again.

Dean laughed loudly. “Don’t ever change, Cas.” Dean said, grin big and eyes crinkling in the corners.

I won’t as long as you’re with me.

“Hey, Cas?” Cas turned and paused on his way to the kitchen. “I still love you, if that’s okay.”

“I meant what I said in the letter, Dean. I never stopped loving you.”

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The Shadow

Request: Could you do a Bucky x reader where you used to work next to him as a winter soldier and you are the youngest they have ever had, and while you not being trained or anything you live in a cell and Bucky visits you. But one time while he’s visiting you, you have a panic attack and he won’t let them touch you or even come near you?

Blog Tag: @buckynatisreal​, @banana-batman

A/N: My work has extended its hours because we were bought out by another company and now we close at midnight rather than ten. How ridiculous is that? Midnight, yuck.

Warnings: Reader is originally in HYDRA

Word Count Total: 594

Short Imagine #74

Title: The Shadow

Originally posted by protectbuckybarnesatallcosts

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This book strays a bit from the kinds of books I generally like to read, but I’m glad I did. It examines the neurology and psychology of the ASP (Anomolosuly Sensitive Person) and those of us who have brains that are less strongly lateralized than others and the proneness towards spiritual or extra-sensory experiences that comes with such a brain. As a child I had a number of “supernatural” experiences, was rather quiet, prone to day dreaming and was very shy, spoke of past life experiences, saw and physically felt ghosts, had a pretty bad auto-immune disease as a babe, and am ambidextrous. I still have a pretty hard time in groups of people, and prefer time spent on my own to this day, am prone to sometimes manic mood swings, still get very lost in day-dreams, and have sometimes very visceral reactions to loud noise, commotion and stress. While I’ve been working with all these traits in my own ways over the years, this book does an excellent job explaining why my brain and body behave the way they do from a scientific angle. The language used to convey the information does become rather academic at points, and though the author does a worthy job of presenting his work in an approachable manner, there are chapters that I will have to reread to fully digest, being a lay person myself, and being unaccustomed to so many acronyms (!!!). For the lay person who wants a straightforward and scientific explanation for weirdo behavior and the extra sensory experience, this is a pretty neat book. I was able to understand myself from an angle that I do not usually engage and found the information rather interesting and coherent with many of my own experiences. I was also pleasantly surprised towards the end of the book, where the author gives a brief nod to his indigenous ancestral traditions with a consideration of Wyrd. A nice synchronicity, as his conclusion and personal reflections tie in with a vision of Wyrd that I have been entertaining lately. 



my untitled ghost story

Thank you to everyone who has expressed interest in this so far, and those who have decided to follow my entire blog to see the updates. I did some revisions on the first block of text, so please read the entire installment below. I can’t promise updates every day, but I hope to add at least 500-600 words each time. (:


I was so flustered the first time I saw her. I ended up knocking a painting off the wall when I tried to stay out of her way. I was so embarrassed, if I’d been a white girl I’d have blushed up to my ears. I tried to make it better, really! I went to the kitchen to fill the kettle so I could put out tea, but I bumped into one of the people there to look at the house and they got so upset they just left right away.

She wasn’t mad. Not then. Certainly not at me.

She just seemed disappointed in herself. /That/ made me feel awful. I’d have followed her off the porch to apologize, if I could have. I’d figured /that/ much out months earlier. Then I remembered that trying to get the kettle was a mistake.

You have to understand, it’s hard to remember all the time that you’re dead.


Being a ghost isn’t really all that glamorous. I mean, it’s not awful, either. More people can see and talk to us than you’d think. But would you tell someone you saw a ghost and really stick to your story? See how that goes. Walking through walls doesn’t come easily, because your brain still thinks you can’t do it. You have to really be focusing on going through. All cats can see us, some dogs. Poor things bark on and on and on and their humans don’t understand why. Haunting a house isn’t really that bad. It depends on the house. Don’t believe that old trend in stories for people to haunt houses they died in. You don’t stay where you died, you go where you can stay. You just… wake up there, if you’re not done yet. Nobody knows what makes a Haunting House. Leylines… quirks of architecture… the previous owners really loving the place. Your guess is as good as mine. And we’re not trapped there, either. You can leave anytime you want.

But just like when you’re alive, you don’t know what comes next. So… a lot of us wait. Being a ghost isn’t anything to do with what people talk about the soul or spirit or anything like that. It’s nothing but memories. That’s what you are. Every second of your life, everything you previously forgot, it all comes back. In detail. Maybe your favorite food wasn’t really as delicious as you thought, or maybe that chair you thought poked you in the back was comfier than you thought and you just didn’t like the room it was in. Nothing gets colored by what you were feeling at that particular moment. You can relive anything. There’s a ghost in the attic, young boy, who hasn’t made up his mind about moving on yet. Used to spend every afternoon in the city library, so he just sits up there, making books out of the aether and reading them again. Speaking for myself, I play Puzzle and Dragons on my phone. I guess it’s all just fragments of games I played before, put together in different ways, but that’s what they say about faces you see in your dreams, right? You don’t ever come up with anything new. You just put things together in new ways.

I guess that’s what being a ghost is. Being who you were before, but put together in a different way.
For me… I started to think differently about some things I remembered, once I got to look at them again.

‘Some things’ being girls. Pretty girls. With glasses, in particular. Like Ana.

The realtor trying to sell the house my friends and I are haunting.


When you’re a ghost, memories aren’t just something you think about. They’re something that becomes real all over again. When you focus on a memory, it’s like you’re there all over again. Seeing it through your eyes like you did the first time, but also seeing the whole scene.

So when I started thinking back to high school and college, and even earlier… I noticed things; I noticed them again. Girls, especially. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t kick Chris Pine or Randy Orton out of a hot tub if either of them tried to join me, but… there’s girls, too. When I looked at times I spent with my girl friends, there were times when maybe I meant it more than I realized, when I told them they were beautiful. Times I regretted having to stop just a little too much if we were at the beach and getting each other’s backs. The memories were so much more real than when they really happened. I didn’t have Mom always asking when I was going to introduce her to my boyfriend. I wasn’t caught up in the moment of finding my date for school dances. I mean, I dated, and enjoyed myself (enjoyed the hell out of myself, if you catch my drift), but I never really had any relationships that mattered. I had friends, and some friends with benefits, and there was the odd kiss or ‘incidental’ action with girls in some of my wilder moments. Now those 'wilder moments’ seemed to mean so much more. I also relived watching the remake of Chicago and /boy howdy/ did I ever have some opinions about Lucy Liu.

It’s a shame you have to be dead for things to make so much more sense. (This is why we need better representation for bisexuals in movies and on tv. It would have made things a heck of a lot simpler if I’d been made to understand that that was an option.) As an aside, if you’re reading this, and you’ve got concerns about where in the variety pack of human sexuality you fall, please talk to someone. Don’t make the mistake I did and dismiss it or think it’ll pass. (Asexuals and Arros, I’m here for you guys too, even if you think you’re outside the variety pack.)

There’s another way of 'making it real’ again. Like my friend with the books, they’re something that just get created out of… whatever it is we’re made of. I don’t like saying 'ectoplasm’ because that’s so dominated by pop culture and we’ve got no way of accurately testing it on us. So… okay, don’t kinkshame me, but I made my college roommate. She’s got more mass than a book, so… I don’t know how to explain it other than, I wasn’t 'there’ as much as I was before. Someone who could see us would see two ghosts, but we’d be fainter. And… well, I redid a Truth-Or-Dare moment when we kissed. It was /amazing/. Even at half strength. I was so surprised that I lost focus and the memory of her faded out and I was back to full right away. It felt weirdly masturbatory though, so it wasn’t something I wanted to try again (For one thing, if Hank came down from the attic and saw me, I’m not sure how I’d explain it to him. He was/is only eleven.) Marisol, one of the other ghosts in the house, stays on the back porch and gives up most of herself to keep the lawn and the empty feeders covered in birds, and she’s fine with that, but I prefer to be at full strength.

Of course, when you’re at full strength all the time, it’s a lot easier to make things move, and while that’s great if you’re trying to ward people off, it’s a lot less convenient when someone is trying to sell your house.


Tom Clancy’s The Division Beta Review

So I’m going to do a brief review of The Division for anyone who hasn’t had the chance to try it out yet. I’ve played a couple hours of the beta on PS4. Bear in mind I’m not a pro-gamer, I’ve even retired from playing competitively in any serious sense, mainly just someone who plays in the afternoons for distraction. This is not something I would ordinarily care enough to do, but this game has put a bee in my brain, so I want to unload. Also bear in mind I’ve played about 3 hours. I’ll play some more on Sunday, I expect, and may have some more information to add.

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