This is a poem I made a month ago for English class, which is dedicated to the trilogy, "The Hunger Games," written by Suzanne Collins. It is according to Katniss Everdeen's perspective. I just thought I'd share it here on dA since I never use my blogspot anymore xD...
Bilba Baggins was just a simple hobbit. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happened anymore. She lived all alone in her kindly little hobbit hole in peace. She had grown up in her home and planned to die there as well. She had in fact missed her home, Bag End, when she had married many years previously. Her husband was quiet the dull, well respected hobbit. Bilba on the other hand had quiet the adventurous side to her. A side that made her dear mother, Belladonna Took, overjoyed with pride till the day she died. Bilba and her husband had divorced, technically, years ago when she had gotten pregnant and he accused her of being a harlot and left her. That’s when Bilba had returned to Bag End and with the help of her mother, her father had died in the winter, and the guiding hand of Gandalf the Grey, a wizard that had been a family friend for years. When Danny was born, Bilba vowed to take care of him and love him forever. As did Belladonna. The other Hobbits of the Shire believed her ex-husbands lies and turned their gazes as she walked by. It disheartened her, especially when poor Danny started getting made fun of by other Hobbit children. It was horrible that she couldn’t even protect her own son from the cruelty of hobbit children. The worst was when Belladonna had fallen ill and none of the hobbit healers would see her. When Bilba had finally gotten her to a healer in Bree, there was no saving her, no longer any hope of healing. After the loss of her mother, her rock in some cases, poor Bilba had fallen into a depression. Normally Hobbit are happy and “jolly” (if you know what I mean) creatures. Once a situation is worse enough for a Hobbit to fall into such a dark state, there is almost always no way to save them from such. Bilba had grown sad and skinny, but she pasted and smile of happiness to her face for Danny. He would not lose the only person in his life because of her being a little sad. So on Bilba struggled for a few years. Every day she’d pull herself out of bed and start her and Danny’s breakfast. She go to Danny and wake her sleeping angle then feed him and return him to his room so he could dress for school. Once he would leave, she would retire to her room and hide, wallowing in her own little darkness for a few hours. Then she would get herself dressed and get started with cleaning and getting her garden taken care of. When Danny would return, she would fake her smiles and do as normal hobbits should. Danny would do his homework then help Bilba with dinner. After eating the mother and son would retire to the living room where she would read to him as he dosed off then send him off to bed. Her tears were left to the times when she was truly alone. No one was to know of her breaking heart. On a day, what must have been centuries ago, she heard word of the fall of a might kingdom in lands far from her own. She felt pity for those poor lost souls of the fallen land. She wondered how the survivors were fairing, if there were any. She thought of the mothers and fathers who had lost their children, the brothers and sisters separated by death, husbands and wives having to continue without their one and only. She wondered if the fall of the kingdom would have any effect on The Shire. It wasn’t until a week later that the effect of the fall came. A man, well….dwarf, had been seen wandering the borders of Hobbiton. Bilba had heard rumor of such and ran out to find Danny. Danny had an adventurous side that Bilba and his late grandmother had adorded deeply. However, being an outcast to his fellow Hobbit children meant that he would always be adventuring alone. Bilba had dashed fast to find her son. “MAMA!!!!” she heard him cry. Bilba's heart skipped a beat and her blood boiled. Anger and fear took her as she flew to the sound of his cry. When she arrived to his aid, Danny was lying on the ground, cold and bloody. He was dead. She dropped to her knees and cried out as she held her child close. ‘Who’ she wondered, ‘Who could have done such a thing?’ She heard a sound and snapped her head up to see. Through the tears in her eyes she saw a man standing before her. Not just any man, a dwarf. His hair mainly black, yet greying with age. His clothes showed he was of importance, but not important enough in her eyes. For his robes were drenched in blood, Danny’s blood. His crystal eyes were red with unshed tears as he gazed down at the she-hobbit and bloody child. “What have you done?” she whispered, her voice breaking. He said no words to respond to her. He only continued to stare. A fury Bilba had never remembered corsed through as she screamed. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! YOU KILLED AN INNOCENT CHILD! WHAT HARM HAD HE DONE TO YOU?!?!” His eyes met hers and he opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. What could be said to a mother when you just murdered her child? He open and closed his mouth several more times before speaking. “I am Thrain, son of Thror and I-“ “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN WHO YOU ARE!” she interrupted. He looked to the boy for a long while, and then eventually met the mothers gaze once more. “I am so deeply sorry.” He whispered before running off into the setting sun. There Bilba was left, holding her ice cold son. The very last shard of her heart, of her sanity was gone. Never would she forget this pain in her heart. Never would she forget the beast that took her baby from her. She had buried her son alone, only Gandalf the Grey stood by her as Danny was lowered into the earth. Her heart was gone. There was no point to living, no point to breathing, no point to anything. She would have ended it right there and let her body fall to be by her son forever, but she was undeserving. She didn’t deserve the peacefulness of death. She would never deserve to walk alongside her angle boy and sweet mother on the clouds of heaven. It was her fault Danny had died in such a way. If she hadn’t been so proud and supportive of his adventurousness, he would never have been in those woods when that god awful dwarf had been. Never would she forgive those monsters. Never would she forget.
AU - Bilba Baggins becomes a mother and loses her only child at the hand of the missing heir of Erebor, Thrain. This is the last time he is ever seen. Years after this incident Gandalf goes to his dear friend asking her to join in an adventure, even though she has vowed to never adventure or even think of such things after believe that it is why her son was killed. What will happen when Bilba learns that the dwarf who took the life of her child, has one of his own and she is excepted to listen to him?
Dont forget to favorite and comment
I dont own any Characters from the Hobbit. Only the ones I make up are mine. AKA Danny is my creation as is the husband.
It had been a very long time since he'd seen her, since he'd touched her golden hair or seen her sunny smile. In fact, her face was beginning to become blurry in his memories, something that scared him far more than he was willing to admit. There wasn't even a picture of her to spare that could remind him of the way her eyebrows arched just so and how her upper lip was fuller than the lower. Such trivial items would not have survived the treacherous journey across the Helcaraxë anyhow.
Pain burned through his chest just thinking about her. The longing to see her face was a constant torment that he could never escape. If only he could just see her. If only she was with him. Why could he not remember...?
His insides twisted with fear, longing and agony. Findaráto did not like to think about her very much at all, but his restless mind always wound itself back around to her somehow. Not a day had gone by
Sighing, Findaráto gulped down the rest of the wine that he'd been swirling in the basin of his goblet since late afternoon. It was dark outside now. The wine was warm.
The goblet hit the tabletop with an audible clank as he almost violently set it down. The elf-lord felt oddly anxious, and he pushed himself to his feet. Surely his cousins must be around here somewhere, right? Perhaps Tyelcormo and Curufinwë would be able to distract him, at least for a short time.
Findaráto's blue eyes saw little as his feet carried him down the endless underground chambers that made up his city, this place that seemed like something out of his dreams. It reminded him of Menegroth, which he had seen little of for many years. He supposed his sister was still there with her beau (may the stupid silver-haired git rot). Findaráto found that he didn't wish to think about her much either.
Turning another corner, his eyes caught firelight flickering about him in the otherwise dark chambers. A familiar dark head could be seen over the edge of one of the chairs set before the fire.
Drawing closer, Findaráto peered over the other elf's shoulder, spotting what captivated the other's attention so completely. It brought home to his heart the very feelings he'd been trying (and failing) to avoid for most of the afternoon and evening. His eyes were half-hooded as he gazed down at the tiny picture set in a thick golden locketone which he knew never left his cousin's neck even on pain of death.
The elf-maiden in the picture was not the prettiest he'd ever seen in his lifetime. Having seen Lúthien in the flesh, well, it was hard to imagine any maiden being prettierexcept, of course, his own Amarië, whose beauty none could ever surpass in his mind's eye. Nevertheless, the maiden in the small picture was quite lovely and smiling brightly. He knew without asking who that was, despite never having seen the picture before or having met his cousin's elusive wife. She, like his own beloved, had chosen to stay behind.
When his shadow wavered over the small painting, the elf in the chair jerked. The locket snapped shut and was shoved down his cousin's undershirt for safekeeping. Fiery violet eyes glared up at him. "Cousin, was there something you needed?"
He wanted to snap that there was no reason for Curufinwë to be so unpleasant, but decided it was beneficial to keep his mouth shut on the matter. "I merely found myself in a spot of boredom and decided to seek out my favorite cousins. Is that a crime?" Not waiting for an answer, Findaráto plopped down in the adjacent chair beside the fire. He didn't look at his cousin. His emotions felt far too raw, and he was worried that Curufinwë would read him far too easily.
Is that a bad thing?
Under normal circumstances, he'd say yes, it was, but right now he just fancied someone to talk to needed someone to talk to... about
His blue eyes flashed up at his cousin's hard face, which was currently devoid of emotion, caught in the golden firelight. It was far too pale for his liking, as if Curufinwë hadn't spent enough time in the sun, though Findaráto knew he had. His typically snappish cousin looked rather lost in thought, his dark eyes distant.
He must be thinking about her. Findaráto was almost sorry he'd interrupted. Almost, but not quite.
"You miss her," he whispered before he thought better of the words.
Curufinwë's eyes shot towards him, away from the fire. He didn't look pleased to be addressed in such a manner (not that he ever appeared pleased to be addressed in any manner by Findaráto). "I do not see what it should matter to you what I think about, cousin," he snarled. However, Findaráto wasn't an ambassador for nothing. He could see that his cousin's typical malice was rather insincere this eve.
"I was just"
"I do not care," Curufinwë interrupted quickly. "If all you came here to do was bother me, you should leave."
Leaning back, Findaráto frowned. He wanted to make the best of his cousin's mood, and before he could think of something more diplomatic to say, the words burst from him in a rush. "I miss Amarië as well."
Deep purple eyes narrowed on his face, and his cousin's lips pulled into a tight frown reminiscent of those Findaráto had seen on his uncle Fëanáro the few times he'd actually gotten close enough to see the elf-prince's face. Curufinwë greatly resembled his father in face, but not as much in personality. The violet eyes softened slightly.
"No one likes to be parted from their loved ones," he commented dryly, trying to sound nonchalant.
This was a rare moment of neutrality between them, and Findaráto did not want to waste it. "If you ever need someone to speak with "
A bitter laugh burst from his cousin's lips. "I see I think you need someone to speak with more than I, cousin," he mocked softly. He wasn't really being cruel, though, despite his words. "Do you suppose she shall wait for you, hm?"
"I hope so " It was barely a whisper. Findaráto found his heart pounding in his chest at a more rapid rate than normal, and thumping in his ears.
"Is that the reason why the King of Nargothrond has yet to find a sweet elf-maiden to produce an heir?" Curufinwë turned back to the fire, his eyes distant once more. "It would be safer, would it not be?"
Findaráto didn't particularly care about having an heir. He'd leave the whole damn place to his brother! He told his cousin so.
Curufinwë chuckled. It sounded hollow. "I hope you meet her again, one day."
Nodding, Findaráto basked in the faint camaraderie he shared with his cousin. Somehow, having a kindred spirit made him feel a bit better, just a bit. He wasn't the only one! And, for once, Curufinwë was being civil towards him despite their family history. Being a Fëanorion made Curufinwë's company generally unwanted, but Findaráto still wanted to heal the rift between their families. He might have been the only one.
Pushing those thoughts awaythey were probably ludicrous anywayhe turned back to thoughts of his beloved Amarië. There was a great ocean between them, and a war and a curse. He truly did wonder if he'd ever see her again, or if they'd be apart forever. Surely the Valar would not be so cruel ? The worry slowly seeped back into his heart, tightening around it like a fist, and his longing for his beloved was stronger than it had ever been before.
They wouldn't... But then he glanced at his cousin, who was apart from everyone and everything.
He would have to pray for their mercy, because he knew for certain that they could be so cruel. Curufinwë was a murderer and a traitor, but he loved his wife. If his brothers never reclaimed those thrice-damned jewels, he would probably never see her again, not until the end of the world as they knew it.
Findaráto wondered how his cousin could live with that knowledge. Only the thought that he might once again be wrapped in Amarië's loving embrace one day kept him from giving up hope. Curufinwë had not even that left to live for.
When the darkness comes When the shadows return Six lights will awake Guided by their friendship With the power of Harmony within them Together they will Bring an end to evil
Honesty will fight against any lies Kindness will aid those overwhelmed by anger Laughter will wither all sadness away Generosity will help those in need Loyalty will strike bravery into the hearts Magic will then make everything complete!
Rise forth once more (once more) O Lights!
With the sun and moon guiding their way They will always prevail!
Together Honesty! Brave ones Kindness! Fear not Laughter! You'll find your way! Lift us through Generous! Our goal Loyalty! lies ahead Magic! In souls and hearts!
Rise forth once more (once more) O Lights! Spirits of Harmony Reborn!
When the darkness comes When the shadows return Six lights will awake Guided by their friendship With the power of Harmony within them Together they will Bring an end to evil!
Honesty will help stand us firm as mountains Kindness will save us from the sorrow and despair Laughter will wash away every tear and frown Generosity will never let us down Loyalty will not abandon friends in need Magic then will make everything complete!
Rise forth once more (once more) O Lights!
Nothing is impossible for them When they will all head in!
Together Honesty! Our path Kindness! We shall find Laughter! strength in friendship today! It's our way Generous! Lead on Loyalty! shunning wrong Magic! Unite as one!
Rise forth once more (once more) O Lights! Harmony restored on this day!
"Finally out of your coma are you?" Sebastian Moran said nonchalantly, not turning to face his boss, who was standing in the doorway, looking much more ruffled than his normal Westwood look. He was wearing a pair of loose sweatpants and a wife-beater, a purple silk dressing gown half hanging off of him.
"Yes mum, I'm fine thank you." Jim said mockingly, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a carton of orange juice, drinking straight from the container. He leaned against the counter, watching the sniper as he continued to work with a creamy substance in the bowl in front of him. He stared at it, as though it was some foreign substance that was going to come to life and attack them both.
Seb noticed Jim's eyes on him and glanced over, not stopping his use of the metal whisk he'd been employing. He snorted. "It's not going to bite you you know."
"Ha ha." Jim sneered. "What is it?"
"Yes Jim, it's the sugary paste that people put on baked things."
Jim stood there for a moment, seemingly transfixed by the thick substance that was now oozing down the sides of the mixing bowl. "Why would anyone want to eat that?! And more to the point, why are you making it?"
"Because sugar cookies are boring without frosting, and I didn't have anything to do. Seriously, have you never noticed how much more gets done when you wake up from your binge induced comas?"
"What coma? It takes a much lower level of brain wave to constitute a coma, and I can assure you, my brain has never reached those levels. Besides, name one time when I got up and you were actually doing something useful." Jim set the carton down, using his hands to push himself up to sit on the counter, elbows resting on his knees and his attention fixed on Moran. Sebastian was still working on the frosting, putting it aside only long enough to take the cookies out of the oven.
"Just because you don't consider it useful doesn't mean it's not." Seb pointed out. "If I didn't clean my equipment properly it wouldn't be ready to go when you get the whim to shoot someone. Or when someone catches a whim to shoot you. Which-" He said, setting the cookies down on top of the stove and taking of the oven mitt. "Has been happening a LOT more often." Moran gave Jim a meaningful look.
Jim shrugged, stealing one of the cooling cookies off of the rack and eating it, waving his hand to dismiss the sniper's implications. The temperature didn't seem to bother him. "You loove it." He drawled. "Gives you something to do."
"Well, maybe once in a while I like to do things like this."
Jim wrinkled his nose, looking down on Moran in disdain as the other man continued to work with the frosting.
"But it's so painfully...normal." Jim said, dragging out the last word like it was something slimy. "Domestic even. You're supposed to be the best sniper in Europe, things like this aren't supposed to entertain you. I thought you had slightly more brain power than that, Sebbie. I'm disappointed."
Sebastian snorted, yanking the cookie tray away from Moriarty right as the man went to take another one. "You don't seem that disgusted with the arrangement. Besides," he pointed out, "Snipers have to be calm and focused. Baking calms me down."
"Booooring." Jim sang, sliding off of the counter to wander back over to the fridge, dissappearing behind the door as he searched for something that would suit him. "I can't understand how people like you could be any more relaxed. There's nothing going on in there to begin with. If you were any more relaxed you'd be dead."
"Keep thinking that Jim." Seb mumbled, now using a spoon to dribble and smooth the frosting over the cookies, one after another.
Jim pulled his head out of the fridge and frowned, unhappy with the lack of attention he was receiving. He disliked how passive this new hobby was making his sniper. This was why he didn't watch telly. He couldn't get a rise out of the TV. "What? No snappy comment? No 'Jim, if you keep this up you won't survive to go after Sherlock again'?" Moriarty said, not bothering to close the fridge. He came up behind Seb, hooking two fingers under the corner of the other man's jaw. He looked at an invisible watch on his wrist, shaking his head sadly, his lip pouting just a little. "Just as I thought. No pulse."
Sebastian looked down at Jim, rolling his eyes. Moriarty took his fingers off of Moran's throat and circled around him, now focused on the frosting bowl. He dipped two fingers into the bowl and stared at the white glop as it oozed over them. Moran just ignored Jim's behavior, he was so used to it it was unnatural.
Jim sniffed at the substance experimentally, making a face. "This is not frosting." He announced, still staring at it as though it had personally offended him. "Frosting doesn't....ooze.."
"It's a glaze frosting." Seb replied, long-suffering to the end. "Are you seriously telling me that you've never had a glaze frosting on anything? Never had a frosted sugar cookie or a cinnamon roll?"
Moriarty shrugged. "Don't concern myself much with food, and when I do I don't tend to keep a log of what I eat."
Seb snorted. "That's a lie. What about the time when we went out to eat and you kept ordering something different because you didn't like the taste of the first five hundred things you ordered?"
"Not my fault they don't know the meaning of the word 'food'. Just because I don't think much about what I eat doesn't mean I won't notice when they try and feed me something that isn't physically edible."
"It was prime steak!"
"Nooot my problem." Jim said, wiping his frosting covered hand on Moran's sleeve. Sebastian looked down at the smear in annoyance as his boss went to flop down on the couch in the nearby living room.
All was quiet for another five minutes before Seb heard an enormous sigh from the living room.
"If you start throwing darts at the Mona Lisa again, I swear..."
"Aww, Sebbie that's adorable! I didn't know you had the brain cells to appreciate high art."
"I couldn't care less. What I do care about is the fact that YOU decided to plant a bomb right behind the painting. Who knows what could set it off!?"
"Your concern is touching."
"Hey, if you go up, so do I. The world may revolve around you in your brain, but not so much in here."
"Hmm. Not surprised. There's not so much of anything in your brain."
"Never. Though if you bring me something to eat I may be quiet for a few minutes."
Sebastian finished dribbling the cookies with frosting and walked into the living room, dropping the bowl onto Jim's lap.
"There. Eat that."
Jim scowled at it, not bothering to move. He just glared at it, as though it would move on its own by sheer force of hatred.
"This ISN'T food." He complained loudly.
"Well, if you want real food, get off your super intelligent arse and get it yourself." Sebastian said, heading back into the kitchen.
Sebastian ignored the grumbling that followed him into the next room.
Jim stared at the bowl which was currently occupying the space on top of his stomach. He tipped it forward with one finger, scowling again when the gooey substance slimed towards him in slow motion.
"Seeeeb!" He whined, knowing full well that the other man was ignoring him completely. Well, he would just have to see what would come of that later. He turned his attention back on the bowl. The frosting was close to dripping onto his shirt now. He grimaced, catching a falling drip with his finger. Letting the bowl sit back upright again, he stared at the milky white drop of sugar that clung to the pad of his finger. Experimentally, he licked it.
Sebastian had cleaned the entire kitchen up by the time Jim showed up again. Moran smirked. "Finally decide that starving to death is worse than being lazy?"
"Not hungry anymore." Jim said nonchalantly, dropping the frosting bowl into the sink in front of the sniper.
Moran stared at it in shock, pausing half-way through drying his hands on a dish towel. The bowl had been licked clean.
This is the disclaimer. I wrote this for fun. That is really the ONLY reason. It was inspired by the antics of me and my friend at college as we made cookies for a bake sale. I wrote it because I have a strange fascination with Moriarty as of late, and because I really wanted some Seb/Jim fics that were not slash. I like to think of them like I think of Sherlock and John, just a really close, really strange platonic relationship. Only Seb and Jim are evil. Yeah.
SO this is probably OOC, but it's mostly for the giggles so yeah. Enjoy XD.
"Hey, Castiel, look at this," Gabriel called to his brother over his shoulder. He had stolen Sam's laptop while the hunter was out with Dean on a food run. Cas walked up to Gabriel curiously and peered over his shoulder at the article the archangel was reading.
"National Kissing Day?" Cas said, his head tilting. "What is the point of this?"
"Well, it gives you an excuse to kiss Dean senseless," Gabriel chuckled. "Though I never need one to kiss Sammy." Cas's eyes flicked over the article, reading quickly. A smile curved his lips and Gabriel knew he had scored a point. He closed the laptop and stood to stretch.
"So, that mind of yours planning madly?" Gabriel asked, smirking at Cas. The younger angel nodded, a light in his eyes. Without warning, Cas turned on his heel and rushed upstairs, stomping loudly in his haste. Gabriel chuckled again and wandered into the kitchen. He had already planned out exactly how he was going to seduce Sam today, having found out a few days ago about the upcoming holiday. He listened to muffled noises coming from upstairs and assumed Cas was readying a few surprises of his own for Dean.
He cocked his head as he heard the front door open and Sam and Dean walk in with groceries. Gabriel walked out of the kitchen and grabbed a few of the bags from Sam. Gabriel helped put away the food and waited until Sam was facing away from him before wrapping his arms around his torso.
"Got a surprise for you, kiddo," Gabriel said fondly before snapping and disappearing them. Dean snorted at the space they had occupied and walked out into the library. The older hunter hadn't seen Cas so assumed the angel was out doing angel-y things. He started when warm arms wrapped around him from behind then relaxed into Cas's embrace.
"Hey," Dean said fondly. "How are you?"
"I am fine, Dean," Cas replied, tightening his embrace. "I want to show you something." Without letting go, the angel moved both of them upstairs.
"Gabe, what the hell is going on?" Sam asked, stumbling to catch his balance. He looked around the room, noting bowls and bowls full of Hershey's Kisses. Every flavor he had ever seen tumbled over tables. Even some flavors he was pretty sure didn't exist, such as liqueur-flavored ones, joined the chaos of candy. Sam spun slowly, taking in the large bed covered in red sheets against one wall along with the other tables filled with cakes and pies.
"Happy Kissing Day, Sammy," Gabriel said fondly, holding out an unwrapped Kiss for Sam. The hunter leaned forward slowly and ran his tongue over the candy, slowly sucking it into his mouth. He grinned at the archangel and grabbed a Kiss from the table next to him. Unwrapping it slowly, Sam held the chocolate out to Gabriel who lapped it up, his eyes never leaving Sam's.
Sam stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Gabriel's shoulders. Leaning down, he brushed his lips over Gabriel's and dipped his tongue into the archangel's mouth. Gabriel's hands threaded into Sam's hair, holding the hunter close to him. They broke apart and laughed, happiness overflowing between them.
"Want to try out the bed?" Sam suggested, arching an eyebrow at Gabriel.
"Of course," Gabriel replied, smiling. "This is officially my new favorite holiday." Sweeping Sam's legs out from underneath him, Gabriel pinned his hunter to the bed, planning on staying there for several hours.
"What's going on, Cas?" Dean asked quietly as he took in the room. It was spotless and the bed was made with silky blue sheets. Dean noted absently that the sheets were the same shade of amazing blue as Cas's eyes.
"Gabriel showed me something earlier," Cas explained. "And I want to start a new anniversary with you." The angel stepped forward and pulled Dean's head down to his, pressing his lips gently against the hunter's. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's shoulders and pulled him tight against himself, deepening their kiss.
"Not that I'm complaining," Dean said, breaking their kiss. "But what are you wanting to turn into an anniversary." Cas blushed and broke from Dean's hold, starting to pace the room. Now that he was here, Cas wasn't sure how Dean was going to react. He had a feeling this might not have been as good an idea as he thought at first.
"Today is National Kissing Day," Cas mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "I thought it might be nice if we spent it together. I got your favorite foods." His arm waved jerkily at a small endtable covered with hamburgers and pie. Dean's mouth watered at the sight and he stepped behind Cas, stopping his pacing.
"This is a sweet idea," Dean told his angel. "Why are you so nervous?"
"You hate what you call chick-flick moments," Cas replied, his eyes flicking around the room. "This seems like it qualifies." Dean turned Cas to face him, one hand cupping his chin and raising his face to his.
"I don't hate this," Dean said softly, smiling into Cas's eyes. "Thank you for the thought. I think it's a great idea to start a new tradition on today." He leaned forward and kissed Cas again, his tongue exploring the angel's mouth. Dean's hands worked their way under Cas's shirt and ran over his back, tracing the muscles under his skin. Cas groaned into their kiss and threaded his fingers into Dean's hair.
"Happy kissing day," Dean said fondly, breaking their kiss. "I love you, Castiel."
"I love you, Dean," Cas replied before pulling his head down again.
Definition: A werewolf is a human that has either been bitten of born a werewolf and, now has the power to change its shape from a human to a wolf form.
Population: Werewolves are number 2 out of the 9 power-types. 1, having the most population.
Habits: They tend to like the colors orange and brown, like the moon, dislike vampires, are very down to earth, territorial, and tend to prefer being in a pack then alone.
Sleeping: Werewolves need to sleep every night, as humans do
Personality: It stays the same from before they were changed into a werewolf.
Food: Werewolves can eat either human food or they can eat humans and animals. They usually will have cravings for raw meat. They also have to eat every day.
Stature: They are number 5 out of the 9 power-types.
Strength: They are stronger, faster, and all that than humans are. They can also change at will, any time, and anywhere. And, if they get really good at changing, not only will they gat faster at it, but they can also begin to learn how to only change parts of there body or stop in the middle of a change. That's, where people probably got the idea that werewolves are just hairy people with muzzles that walk upright. Though this is very uncommon and hard to do, it is also a very weak state for them. They aren't as powerful in mid-change.
Weaknesses: They can't see in color when they are in there wolf form, they have to change into a wolf every full moon, including eclipses, no matter what. In wolf form they have no opposable thumbs, which, makes things a little harder. And, they can not talk when in wolf form, and, unlike some beliefs they cannot communicate telepathically to there pack or any other wolf or werewolf.
Senses: Werewolves senses are more developed, they can see in the dark, though not in color when in there wolf form.
Heart: they have a heart beat and a soul.
Bones: when changing there bones actually break apart to form the skeleton of a wolf and back.
Fangs: There fangs are like wolves when they are in there wolf form, but, they have tiny holes in them like a snake or vampire that contain venom. There venom can be controlled. So, if your bit that doesn't automatically mean you're going to be changed into a werewolf. Also, unlike vampires there saliva has the necessary components, when mixed with the venom, to change a human into one of them. Vampires have to bite a human then have the human drink there blood to change them. In human form all there teeth are normal.
Reproduction: They can have children. It's about a 60-70% chance the offspring will be a werewolf if a human and a werewolf procreate.
Appearance: When not in human form they look exactly like normal humans. If in there other form they look exactly like a normal wolf.
Lifespan: The average werewolf can live from 500 years to 3,000 years, like some humans live to be 30 and some live on to be 100.
Aging: They will age 4X slower, or more, than a normal human.
Other facts: When a werewolf is about to change, if you were to look it a purified mirror, there reflection would not me a man but a wolf. And, when in wolf form and about to change back into a human you would see a human not a wolf in the reflection
Silver, aconite, and oleander repel werewolves.
If a werewolf gets too mad they could start to change involuntarily.
Cloths DO NOT turn to hair.
It takes from three seconds to thirty minutes for a werewolf to change, depending on how skilled they are at it and how regularly they change.
Power-type is the name for the nine supernatural creatures that humans ceased to believe in. Vampires, werewolves, ghosts, grim reapers, gargoyles, angels, demons, witches, and zombies are the nine.