“Word of advice, don’t go near (y/n), she is not in a good mood,” Dean informed everyone in the bunker’s library.
“What did you do now, Dean-o?” Gabriel asked, not looking up from the spell book he was reading.
It had been a month since Gabriel appeared outside the bunker door, asking Dean, Sam, Castiel, and (y/n) for a place to
“We live in a society too focused on physical strength, on sculpted muscles and athletic skill. Those are helpful, yes. A necessity to any warrior. But the true secret of power isn't strength but resilience. How much a warrior can take before falling. For you can shoot as many rounds as you want and still drop when you take a single one. But the ability to take rounds as well as send them is what separates the cannon fodder from true warriors.” – Alic Dzadz, celebrated Mandalorian strategist.
“The greatest warriors are the product of their defeats as much as their victories. Like the strongest of iron, their imperfections are hammered, their weaknesses pierced and battered, until they are forged into an indestructible force capable of standing
“What are you talking about?” Dean asked, face stern and his tone, though soft, on guard and defensive.
“I was ready to die, I was ready. I should have died. But you, you didn’t want to be alone.” Dean seemed taken aback by Sam’s words, but that didn’t dull the sharp edge of their continuance. “That’s what this boils down to, you can’t stand the thought of being alone.”
Dean shook his head, muttering a rejection of the statement as he left the table, taking steps away from his little brother.
______, who had been talking to Dean just before Sam walked in, slowly sunk backwards into her place against the wall as if hoping to melt into the paint, taking silent swigs from her bo
We are hunted down as monsters;
By legends demonised.
We are feared as devilish creatures
In your pitiful human eyes...
But let me try and teach you
Of why we do not fear.
Because we actually enjoy it
When the hunters seek us here.
In the forest we are champions
In the night we rule the lands.
The hunter becomes the hunted
And dies by our hands.
Fangs will pierce his fragile throat
His flesh is torn to shreds.
It is the fear and scent of death
That the hunter truly dreads.
But we alone shall know no fear
For by the moon we shall be blessed.
Draped in Luna's loving embrace;
We bet our life with every breath.
That is who we are.
The wolven pride of werewolves
Is arrogance from afar.
Viewed by trembling creatures
Wetting themselves in fright.
We appear as snarling punishers
In the glory of the night.
Here in the deepest shadows
Where the light will never reach.
We silence the mouths of humans
For we tire of what they preach: