Supernatural Meme: One Hunter [1/1]

My birthday is at the end of the month! So what better way to celebrate both that and hitting 600 followers than by hosting my very first tumblr awards!

R u l e s

must be following the birthday girl 

reblog this post to enter (likes to bookmark only!) 

must get 30 notes or we forget this ever happened

ends March 31st (my special day)

winners will be announced about a week after

1 winner and 1-2 runner-ups per category (depending on notes)

C a t e g o r i e s

best url

best icon

best theme

best mobile theme

best original content**

best supernatural

best multifandom

my personal fave 

**submit your original content tag here 

P r i z e s

w i n n e r s 

follow back from me if not already

a spot on my updates tab

7 promos from me (upon request)

3 creation requests from yours truly (icon, graphic, or art)

my undying love and friendship

r u n n e r - u p s

follow back from me if not already

a spot on my updates tab

3 promos from me (upon request)

1 creation request from yours truly (icon, graphic, or art)

my undying love and friendship

Blogs I (stalk) follow and you should too cause they’re awesome:

sweaterssam

wonderlustcas

castiell

psychicsam

alphvjensen

kingcas

sniperdean

cutedean

Turning to face forward, Sam muttered, “You’re a jerk.”

    “And you’re a bitch,” Dean declared, knowing that it made Sam happy to hear that particular insult. He understood, too. Sam was still wary that Dean would hate him for his powers. To be fair to him, Dean knew he hadn’t given Sam any reason to trust him with his powers before. Now, though, he was going to be there for his brother, going to stand by him and support him, and he was going to push his brother into training them, just the same way he’d pushed his brother into training sessions with dad that had saved his life hundreds of times over. Carefully wiping over the wounds a few more times, Dean began casually, “That last hunt really messed you up, huh?”

    Silence met him for a few moments, before Sam admitted, “I guess I’m not as strong as I thought.”

    He shrugged after that, a helpless ‘what can you do?’ gesture. From Sam’s tone of voice, it sounded as if he really believed that as well, hoped it, even. Sighing, Dean folded the dirtied cloth, putting it aside on Sam’s rumpled sheets. Picking up the needle, he began to carefully sterilise it, giving him something to do with his hands as he tried to pick the right words, the right way to tell Sam that it wasn’t his power that was lacking, but his understanding of how to use it.

In the darkness behind his eyes, Sam could feel a pressure building. It felt like something was squeezing in his head, filling to the point of bursting and then beyond. When it finally did burst, he sat up with a gasp, hands flying to curl into his scruffy locks. Blinking the dark away, he shifted one hand from his hair, down over his sweat-slick skin and onto the fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers pressed into his chest, trying to soothe his wild-running heart. Behind him, his other hand twisted into the sheets, fingers clawing tightly at the rumpled material.

    Slowly, his breathing became less laboured, his eyes roaming the room less wildly. Calmer, but still tense, he searched the room, eyes darting from corner to corner, shadow to shadow, desperate to ensure that no red eyes were staring out at him. When his search of the room came up clean, he heaved a sigh of relief and buried his face in his hands. Curling forward, eyes screwed shut tight and fingers digging into them, he tried to shake the last vestiges of his nightmare from his mind.

    After a few minutes, he finally felt calm enough to uncover his face.

    It was dark in his room, darker than it ordinarily would be.