D.I.D Movie Idea

A movie told from the Alters slice of life, now hang in with me here…

  • Movie begins with just a person walking down to the coffee shop, cute light music plays, as they walks down the street people call out to them and each calls person different things. “Yo Ray!” “Hey Ms.Marshfeild!” “Hi Hannah!!” “How are you today, Jean?”
  • Person arrives at Coffeeshop and pays for coffee, barista looks at the name on the card and goes “Have A Good Day, Ms, Nguyen.” Person smiles and we see them sign the receipt as ‘Jake Derfler’ Barista looks down confused but Jake is already gone.
  • Jake takes his coffee and is walking down the street, he obviously is presenting as a woman in a professional black dress, and he looks down at his phone ‘Meeting @ 9am’ is in his calendar and he just kind of nods and goes to work.
  • Funny scenes such as Jake going to the mens bathroom and then just realizing as he touches the door he has to use the ladies room. Jake going on a date with the hosts husband, and he tries to hit on the waitress totally forgetting hes married to the man in front of him. Jake wearing clothes that he picked out and running into hosts friends and having to explain why he’s dressed very masculine and/or without a bra (imagine him in those tanks with the giant arm holes all down the side with no bra)
  • Dramatic/Scary scenes may be him suddenly ‘coming to’ and a guy is getting really sexual or aggressive with him and he has to fight them off. Jake needing money for a bus ticket or even a cab cause hes somewhere he has no idea where- only to find he doesn’t know the pin to the card in his pocket. Jake ‘coming to’ in a ditch in his car, and the cop asks him if he’s been drinking that night and Jake can’t answer yes or no? and cant recall anything that happened.
  • Sad scene where because of the car accident he sees a therapist, and the therapist asks him his earliest memory, cuts to a small girl in scrubs and/or a hospital gown in a mental ward. A woman comes over and is something like ‘Come with me Kim’ and when Jack doesn’t move the woman grabs him and repeats it, Jack confused answers ‘but my names not Kim, It’s Jack’ and the woman snarls at him to stop pretending and being stupid and she drags him with her into the foggy distance.
  • Therapist figures out that Jack is a multiple and this makes so much sense now! Jack still struggles with everyday life but through sticky notes/food/clothes etc, he finds the names of a few others! Rob, Jean, Lucy, Don, Kim, etc.
  • Jack gets a girlfriend, makes friends and tells them his secret after awhile, and overall learns skills on how to talk to and work with the others. There are a few bumps in the road-he gets fired or theres another big scare like the car accident, etc- but overall with the help of a therapist both him and the others all seem to get along.
  • Movie ends with Jack walking into the therapists office, he sits down and he shakes the therapists hand. “Hi, My names Kim” She says. Therapists mouth opens and she seems to light up. “My names Dr. Montgomery, and I have heard so much about you.”

The movie does none of that ‘changes clothes every time someone fronts’ thing. It doesn’t make him or his lifestyle out to be a freak, hes not a punch line. They don’t move towards integration, and Jack is never called Trans. Jack looks exactly like Kim, Jean, Roy or anyone else. If an appointment is written in the calendar it’s kept so Jack is never confused why he goes to work. There’s no talking out loud to ‘yourself’ moment where hes made out to be a freak. Movie is simply a slice of life a little more comedy lineament movie about an Alter in a system.

Future Wife - 31 Days of Halloween

This is from my 31 Days of Halloween Writing Challenge.

Request: By @oaisara  “can you write 57 with dean x reader (I’m a complete dean girl haha #helpme) with a lot of sarcasm and sass and stuff again?”

Prompt: 57. A tarot reading? Are you serious?

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam, Castiel, Crowley (mentioned), Abbadon (mentioned), Chuck (mentioned), Amara (mentioned)., Mary (mentioned), Leviathan!Sam and Leviathan!Dean (mentioned), John Winchester (minimal mention).

Warnings: FLUFF.

Word count: 5,330

A/N: I kind of based this in something that happened to my parents when they dated. By being a Dean girl, I got really inspired and well, it’s long and fluffy so I hope you like it! There’s also a lot of sass and sarcasm in there. ;)

Originally posted by cocklesandestielis4realz

Sam and Dean sighed, not really wanting to take the next step and knock the door.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” Dean complained.

“Me neither… But she’s the only one that can help us right now.” Sam reasoned.

“Why don’t we just get a Ouija board?” Dean grumbled.

“Because ghosts hate us, now stop complaining and knock the door.” Dean shot a glare to his brother.

“Why do I have to knock it?” He asked.

“Because you’re the one getting the reading.” Sam stated obvious.

Dean sighed and took a step forward. He looked back at his brother who urged him to knock and, before his knuckles could hit the wood, a woman opened the door.

She had bright, orange hair - it was extremely frizzy. She had small black eyes and her face was covered in crinkles. Her clothing was torn and not a single colour matched the other.

“Hi, uh…” Dean fake smiled.

“Dean, how are you?” She asked with a big grin on her face.

“Sorry, have we met?” Dean furrowed.

“No, but I’ve been waiting for you. Come inside.” The woman stepped aside for Dean to enter. “You too Sam.”

Sam almost choked on his spit. He cleared his throat and followed his brother inside. Both brothers gripped tightly on their guns – just in case.

“No need to be so paranoid boys. I’m not going to hurt you.” The woman giggled as she entered a room without windows.

The walls were painted in a dark colour, lit candles all over to lighten the place. A round table was set in the middle on the room; it had three chairs. In the centre of the table was a crystal ball reflecting the fire’s light. There was a black counter in the back, it had a lot of artefacts Dean and Sam recognized as usual wiccan tools, and some others that they hadn’t seen before.

The woman urged them to join her at the table as she took a tarot deck.

The brothers sat down and watched as she moved the crystal ball away to put the cards on the table. She sat there as well and looked directly into Dean’s eyes.

“I know why you’re here.” She spoke.

“Good, so can you help us?” Dean asked.

“Dean, I’m not talking about your case.” The woman giggled, “Which by the way, it’s the girl with the braids.” She commented, looking at Sam.

“Braids, got it.” Sam thanked.

“So uh…” Dean began, not knowing what the witch was going to do.

“You want a reading.” The witch spoke again.

“No… Not really.” Dean shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

“It wasn’t a question. You want a reading.” She insisted as she mixed the deck.

“I guess.” Dean mumbled. Sam gave his brother a bitch face but remained quiet.

The woman placed the deck in front of Dean, asking him to place both hands on it as he asked.

“You can ask quietly.” The woman smiled, understanding Dean’s inability to open up or show weakness.

Dean breathed out as he mentally asked about his future. After wards, the woman separated the deck in three, asking Dean to place his hands on them again but, this time, she placed her hands against Dean’s and whispered something the brothers couldn’t catch.

She piled the cards back again and started forming the Celtic cross. Sam and Dean watched carefully as the woman started reading.

“You live a dangerous life, and you know it.  You’re full of guilt and pain, and keeping your feelings buried deep inside you isn’t a good strategy.” She gave Dean a stern look.

“What a big surprise!” Sam chuckled sarcastically. Dean and the witch gave him a death glare before she continued.

“You push everyone away, afraid that you’ll hurt them the same way your father hurt you.” Dean swallowed loudly, “Anyone would think that you’ll remain on your own for the rest of your life but…” She stood silent.

“But…” Dean urged her to talk.

“You’ll find a woman – a broken woman.” The witch replied, “She’ll help you out of the burden you’ve grounded yourself in; she’ll help you grow out of all your pain. She’s similar to you, yet she completes every hole in your life, just as you complete hers.”

“Give us a name; we’ll go get her tonight.” Sam joked once more, and this time, Dean punched him in the stomach.

“Please excuse him.” Dean muttered.

“I can’t give you a name, because you’re not ready yet.” The witch informed.

“Not re… What does that mean?” Dean asked, he had gotten anxious.

“It means that, if you meet her now, things won’t work the same.” The witch explained.

“So… When will I meet her?” Dean furrowed.

“In a few years.” Sam let out a groan.

“DEAN! I will have to put up with you by myself for a few more years. Why, God?” Sam joked again. Dean tried to drag him out of the room, but the witch insisted in keeping him in.

“Sam will have to guide you, for you will not recognize her at first.” The witch spoke once the brothers had settled down.

“I’m sure I can do it on my own.” Dean grunted.

“Dean, honestly, you don’t even tell me when you’re sick and you expect me… Us to believe that you’ll be brave enough to ask her out? Ha!” Sam sassed. Dean tried to punch his brother again but the witch stopped them.

“Just remember: a broken girl, yet beautiful and understanding. Maybe even motherly to you, and oh so brave. No matter what you do, you’ll meet her one way or another. You are destined to be together.” The woman recited.

Afterwards, the brothers said goodbye. She had refused to let them pay her, claiming that she’d like them to finally yank the girl with the braids – which they did.

For months, Dean kept every word the witch had said playing over and over again inside his head. That until things got complicated again, making him forget about it.


Three years later, Sam and Dean were out hunting a werewolf pack. They succeeded almost completely, except that Dean got shot in many different areas and ended up in the hospital on a shared room.

He hadn’t seen the other person, but he was certain that it was a girl. Dean had tried to start a conversation with her the first day. The girl didn’t answer, and Dean thought she was just some mean person until the nurse told him that she was unconscious.

Dean took that as both a tragedy and a relief. He hadn’t seen her, of course, which gave him a lot more confidence to sing out loud as the day went by.

Usually, Sam would spend his time with Dean, who was getting better day by day but not enough to go back home. However, Sam still went out on hunts; leaving Dean alone with the unconscious girl, who Sam hadn’t seen either.

One day, the nurses decided to ignore Dean. Therefore, he couldn’t find another way to kill time but by singing his whole repertoire. He knew he was out of tune, yet he continued to sing at the top of his lungs.

“And be a simpleeee kind of maaaaan.” Dean shouted, knowing that the nurses would eventually give up and pay attention to him.

“… Something you love and understand…” A voice mumbled, making Dean fall into complete silence.

The other voice stopped singing as well. Dean had recognized it as a girl’s voice, but he had no idea whose voice was it.

“Nurse Jackie?” He asked, remembering the youngest of the nurses who enjoyed pulling pranks on him. “This isn’t funny.” A breathy giggle replied.

“I’m not the nurse.” She spoke. Her voice was raspy and breathy, it sounded as if it hadn’t been used in a long while.

“Then who are you?” Dean called.

“I… Marie Larkin, and you?” She replied. Dean recognized the name.

“Tell me, Marie.” He began, “Is your first name Joan?” The girl let out a chuckle.

“Fine, you got me.” She surrendered. Dean let out a giggle. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Dean.” He smiled, although he couldn’t see her.

“(Y/N).” She replied shyly.

“Beautiful name, sweetheart.” Said comment made her blush, “So… Where exactly are you?” He asked.

“Hopefully not dead.” She joked, and Dean laughed.

“I hope that too.” The girl looked around, not recognizing anything.

“I don’t know where I am.” She mumbled.

“Is it dark?” Dean inquired, thinking that maybe he could recognize the place for her.

“Nope… There’s a lot of light actually.” She observed, “And I’m in a bed and…”

“Wait a second.” Dean stopped her, “In a bed? Like a hospital bed?”

“Yes, how do you know?” She furrowed.

Dean literally jumped out of bed. Some of his bullet wound still hurt him, but his excitement was far stronger. He moved over to the “wall” that divided the room in two and slid it open, only to find the most beautiful (Y/E/C) he had ever seen.

“You’re awake!” He cheered.

“And you’re not a ghost!” She said using the same voice tone as Dean.

“I’m sorry I… We share rooms and you were unconscious and now…” Dean couldn’t really explain his thoughts.

“Oh… Well, no offense but I think your howling woke me up.” She giggled, making Dean blush.

“I was trying to piss the nurses off.” Dean confessed, scratching the side of his head.

“Right so… Where am I?” She asked, looking around once more.

“We’re in Hospital Princeton-Plainsboro.” Dean answered.

“Oh yeah… I remember now.” She whispered to herself.

“You do? What do you remember?” The girl snapped her head back to Dean. She analysed him before speaking again.

“Those are too many bullet wounds for a regular person.” She squinted, trying to figure out who was the man in front of her.

“Yeah I uh… I was coming out of a bar and some burglars tried to steal from me so I put up a fight and ended up with a bunch of holes and without my wallet.” Dean shrugged his shoulders, acting as innocently as possible.

“Right, you said your name is Dean. What’s your last name?” She asked again.

“Dean uh… Bulsara.” Dean answered.

“Bulsara, huh?” Dean nodded, “Was your father in Queen?”

“Queen the band or Queens the place?” Dean shifted nervously.

“The band.” She stated.

“Uh… No.” Dean replied as naturally as possible.

“Well of course not, because Freddie Mercury was gay and never had kids. Now tell me your real last name.” She ordered.

“It’s uh…”

Before Dean could reply, Sam bursted the doors open. Dean looked back at his surprised brother as the girl took advantage of the distraction.

She jumped out of her own bed, grabbing on of the syringes and wrapping one arm around Dean’s neck. She placed the syringe close to Dean’s jugular vein. He wasn’t able to move without getting stabbed by it.

“Who are you?” She demanded. Sam lifted both of his hands, showing that he was unarmed.

“My name is Sam.” The younger hunter spoke, not quite sure what was happening.

“Sam and Dean, what a lovely couple.” She beamed sarcastically.

“He’s my brother.” Dean managed to argue.

“Brothers huh?” She smiled, “Maybe you can tell me what your last names are, Sam.”

“Yeah, we’re Sam and Dean Bonham.” Sam answered, acting like that was the most obvious thing ever.

“What’s your father’s name, Sam?” She asked again.

“John… Crap.” Sam let out a shaky breath.

“Nice job, Sammy!” Dean hissed.

“Unless daddy was Led Zeppelin’s drummer, you two should start telling me the truth.” She commanded.

“We’re Sam and Dean Winchester.” Sam surrendered. (Y/N)’s grip softened in shock.

“You… The… Winchesters?” She stuttered.

“Yeah, although we’re not really serial killers… Those were…”

“Leviathans.” She finished.


“So you know who we are and what Leviathans are. How?” Dean asked.

The girl was back in her bed, orders of the nurse who just so happened to enter the room before Sam could say anything else. Now, the brothers were the ones to make questions.

“I’m a hunter… I’ve heard things about you.” She replied.

“What kinds of things?” Sam asked.

“The Apocalypse, falling angels, Abbadon, one of you turned into a demon… The darkness…” She answered, not offering any kind of resistance.

“So you’ve heard of us. Great.” Dean shivered.

“Only what other hunters have told me.” She defended herself.

“Great, and how did you manage to end in the same room as I did? Did someone send you?” Dean got dangerously close to her, trying to act intimidating.

“Yes, Dean. I got sent from heaven to try and hunt a pack of werewolves who literally pushed me off a cliff just so I could end in a coma, sharing a room with you.” She argued. Sam let out a chuckle and (Y/N) and Dean gave him a death glare.

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean snapped.


The interrogation continued for a while more.

(Y/N) was the granddaughter of a member of the Men of Letters. After Abbadon wiped them all, her mother turned into a hunter who married another hunter. She was raised into the life and, when she turned 20 years old, she decided to hunt on her own.

When visitor’s time ended, Sam left. (Y/N) and Dean didn’t speak much about their lives anymore; instead, they decided to listen to classic rock music as they shared hunting stories.


A few more days passed, and both (Y/N) and Dean were allowed to leave the hospital. Sam had signed for both of them, making him responsible for the young huntress.

She argued that she could take care of herself, but Sam was insistent and the brothers ended up taking (Y/N) to the bunker.

The huntress recognized certain rooms from pictures her mother kept of her grandfather. Even so, she recognized John Winchester as one her grandfather’s best friends.

“He was my mother’s God-father.” She smiled, remembering every amazing story her mother had told her.

“Really?” Dean asked.

“Yeah… They were close. Your grandmother… She was devastated when he ‘left’. My nana wanted to tell her, but she had vowed not to.” (Y/N) explained.

“Yeah well… At least we know the old man was good.” Dean joked.

“Is that so? How? I thought your father hated him.” (Y/N) furrowed.

“True but then we met him and he forgave him.” Dean explained like that was normal.

“You met your dead grandfather?” She asked dumbfounded.

“He wasn’t dead when we met him.” Dean replied.

“Right, so you… You did what? You Back to the future-d the man?” Dean laughed.

“Kind of… When Abaddon was released, he made a spell to come to the future looking for my father, but he was dead already so…” Dean tried to explain.

“Wait… Is John dead?” Her smile faded into a gloomy look.

“Yeah, he died many years ago…” Dean replied.

“Did you know him?” Sam asked, entering the library with three beers in hand.

“Know him? John taught me a bunch of tricks and… He was there on my first hunt.” She bit her lip, remembering how good John was to her.

“Really?” Sam and Dean asked, not truly believing what she was saying.

“Yeah… Didn’t he tell you about…?” The Winchester’s silence was enough of an answer for her.

The conversation eventually changed to simpler things, and it kept going until past midnight when the huntress excused herself and left to her assigned room.

The brother’s talked a bit more about other things before Sam finally dared to touch the subject again.

“So (Y/N) is closer to us than we expected, huh?” Sam commented, paying careful attention to his brother’s reaction.

“Yeah… If the Men of Letters hadn’t been destroyed, maybe we would have met her since we were kids.” Dean observed.

“Yeah, or if dad wasn’t a douche who preferred to keep us in crappy motel rooms rather than taking us with him.” Sam added.

“He did it for our own good.” Dean insisted, “But I guess you’re right… We would have met her one way or another, I guess.”

Sam smiled at his brother’s words. He was hopeful that Dean had finally understood who (Y/N) really was, but the older hunter was as naïve as usual.

“Yeah, one way or another… Either on a hunt or at a bar or…” Sam continued.

“I get it Sam, we would’ve met her anyways.” Dean grumbled.

“You really can’t be blinder.” Sam sighed.

“What did I do now?” Dean complained.

“I tell you what you didn’t do: Use your goddamn brain!” Sam fumed.

“Use my… What the hell is wrong with you?” Dean argued.

“With me? You’re the one that can’t see that your soulmate is upstairs!” Dean stiffened.

“My what?” He swallowed. Sam rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.

“Blind and deaf… I said: YOUR SOUL-MATE.” The younger Winchester spoke slowly, as his brother was some dumb baby who couldn’t understand.

“How do you know that?” Dean furrowed.

“Seriously? The tarot reading from that time in…”

“Oh yeah, what about it?” Dean interrupted his brother.

“I swear to God I’m going to slap you if you keep being this dumb.” Sam mumbled, “The witch told you that she was a broken, beautiful and brave girl. That she’ll be understanding and maybe even motherly.” Sam recited.

“Right, because (Y/N) has been understanding and motherly.” Dean argued.

“So you do think she’s beautiful!” Dean huffed at his brother’s words.

“All I’m saying is that I would recognize my soulmate if I saw her.”

“The witch said you wouldn’t.”

“I don’t care what she said! (Y/N) is not my soulmate.” Sam sighed heavily and left to his room, impressed of how far his brother’s stupidity could go.


The next morning, Sam and Dean woke up to the smell of waffles and bacon, coffee and orange juice. Both brothers went downstairs only to find out (Y/N) serving breakfast as she hummed to a Metallica song.

“Morning, boys.” She cheered.

“Morning (Y/).” Sam replied, leaning closer to leave a small peck on the top of her head.

Dean furrowed at his brother’s gesture, but mostly at (Y/N) being completely chill about it.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Dean finally spoke, although he didn’t kiss her. Not because he didn’t want to mimic Sam but because he didn’t know how.

“Have a seat.” She ordered tenderly. Both Winchesters sat down at the kitchen table as the girl served breakfast.

She was completely attentive to the boys as a way of thanking them for taking care of her. Sam, however, knew that that was just a tiny, not well known bit of her personality. He gave Dean a knowing smile.

“This is great, (Y/N).” Sam complimented, “We haven’t had breakfast like this since mom left.”

“Oh Sam.” She squeezed Sam’s hand in comfort.

“Oh no, I don’t mean… I mean, mom died but she came back.” Sam quickly explained, “Darkness brought her back to thank Dean for helping her.”

“Dean helped the Darkness?” The girl couldn’t be more confused about the boy’s life.

“It’s not really how it sounds like.” Dean explained, “She is the sister of God and all she wanted was to be with him so I helped them out.”

“So you got God and his sister back together… And I thought the weirdest thing was that one time I found a friendly vampire.” She huffed jokingly.

“Yeah, the point is mom is back. She only left for a couple months to fix some personal things.” Sam explained.

“Oh, I see.” The girl nodded, “Well, if you excuse me, I need to take a shower.”

Sam told her where the bathroom was and soon the girl was already upstairs showering.

Dean wanted to eat in silence, but Sam’s knowing face was too annoying for Dean to ignore.

“What?” The older finally bursted.

“Nothing.” Sam chuckled.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Dean insisted.

“Me? Of course not!” Sam’s voice was too sarcastic to bear.

“Sam…” Dean groaned.

“I was just thinking how understanding and motherly (Y/N) turned out to be.” Sam sighed.

“Yeah, then why don’t you marry her?” This time Sam let out a full laugh.

“Dean, you honestly couldn’t be more naïve. Not even because the witch told you…”

“The witch who could be wrong.” Dean interrupted.

“Just like she was wrong about the girl in braids?” Sam inquired and Dean ran out of arguments, “As your guide I recommend you to go talk to her.”

“Sam.” Dean warned.

“Don’t Sam me. You know it’s true, you’re just too dumb to admit it.” Sam sassed.

“Why is there a naked woman in your bathroom?” Castiel spoke, appearing behind the Winchesters.

“Damn it, Cas(s)!” Dean bursted.

“Sorry.” The angel apologized, “why is there a naked lady in your bathroom?”

“It’s a friend.” Sam explained.

“A friend-friend or a friend that charges?” The angel squinted.

“A friend-friend.” Sam answered. The angel nodded and sat down in front of the Winchesters.

“What brings you here, Cas(s)?” Dean asked, “We thought you were upstairs doing angelic messes.”

“Angels do not… mess.” The angel spoke, “Besides, I found a cherub the other day. He told me that every one of them were planning on coming here.”

“Here? Why would they come here?” Dean furrowed but Sam answered with the same smile. “Sam…”

“They want to come see how you meet your soulmate.” Castiel explained, “No one thought you, of all humans, would have one.”

“Yeah, hurray.” Dean rolled his eyes, “So what? You came to watch too?”

“No, I came to warn you about multiple, if not all, cherubs invading the bunker.” Cas(s) stated.

Without them noticing, the shower stopped running. The girl came out of the bathroom and got dressed with the same clothes she was found in when they took her to the hospital; said clothes had already been washed by Sam who just so happened to be incredibly attentive to her.

After dressing up, she went back to the kitchen where Sam, Dean and Cas(s) were arguing about Dean’s soulmate.

(Y/N) cleared her throat to announce her presence, to which the three men stopped talking.

“Dean, the naked lady in your bathroom is no longer naked.” Cas(s) informed.

“Yeah, I can tell, Cas(s).” Dean hissed.

“Am I…?” The girl was so confused about the angel’s presence and the fact that he referred to her as “naked lady” that she couldn’t complete her sentence.

“No, no.” Sam hurried to say, “This is Castiel, he’s an angel.”

“Angel of the Lord, actually.” Cas(s) corrected.

“Hi.” She said shyly, “You guys have an angel in your kitchen… Can you get any weirder?” She asked looking back at the brothers.

“We have a key to Oz.” Sam shrugged his shoulders.

“And a lesbian nerd best friend.” Dean added.

“And the King of Hell comes for ice cream every once in a while.” Sam continued.

“God also comes down sometimes… He loves to drink.”

“Great, I’m stuck with the Adams Family.” (Y/N) mumbled.

“We’re not THAT weird.” Sam laughed.

“Sure, and I’m secretly Batman.” (Y/N) snapped back, following the joke.

Dean widened his eyes at how natural the interaction was between Sam and (Y/N). Said gesture was clearly misinterpreted by the angel.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I can confirm that she is not secretly Batman.” Sam and (Y/N) bursted into laughter.

“I know she’s not Batman, Cas(s). She’s just being sarcastic!” Dean fumed.

The rest of the day, the three hunters and the angel spent the time guarding the bunker against cherubs. Although, (Y/N) had no idea why they were doing that.

Late at night, and after being locked down in the bunker the whole day, Dean decided to go out.

The Impala was parked in front of the bunker’s door and the sky was clear. Every star could be seen from there. The weather was perfect, for it wasn’t too cold or too hot.

Dean sat down at his Baby’s hood; his green eyes were glued to the starry night as Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd was playing softly in the background.

“That song is the one that woke me up.” (Y/N) spoke, making Dean jump. “Did I scare you?”

“No… You just took me by surprise.” Dean smiled at her, gesturing to join him. The girl sat on the hood and looked up to the sky.

You’ll find a woman, and you’ll find love…” The girl hummed along. Dean stared at her lovingly.

“We met thanks to this song.” The hunter interrupted. She looked down at him and smiled.

“Yeah, we did… That and the fact that we shared a room.” She laughed.

“I mean yeah but… It did woke you up.” Dean smirked.

“Only because I really wanted you to shut up.” She smirked back.

“You loved it, don’t lie.” (Y/N) bit her lip and looked down.

“I did.”

Dean shifted closer to herm wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Sammy really does like you, doesn’t he?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, but I can’t understand why… We’ve known each other for only a few days.” She breathed out.

“Almost a week and a half.” Dean corrected.

“Right, a week and a half. It’s time for us to become best friend, then.” She joked, making Dean giggle.

“You are one sarcastic girl, did you know that?” Dean smiled, looking down at her.

“I’ve had a few comments, yeah.” She replied, looking back up at him.

Dean locked his green eyes in hers. They didn’t look away, in fact, they shifted until they were as close as human possible.

Dean stroked her cheek, his plump lips were parted and his breathing was slow. (Y/N), on the other hand, was fighting not to blush. A small smile rested on her as she enjoyed Dean’s touch.

They were so focused on each other, that they didn’t notice Sam and Cas(s) standing at the bunker’s door, watching them. Obviously, they also didn’t know about the millions of cherubs witnessing what would be the beginning of one of the greatest couples Heaven has created.

Dean wanted that moment to last forever. The intimacy between (Y/N) and he was palpable, yet so delicate. He felt like any kind of noise or movement would screw it up – little did he know, the cherubs had set up a whole scenario for them to not be interrupted by anything.

“Are you going to stare all night long or what?” She whispered softly, making Dean giggle.

“I would stare all night if you let me.” He whispered back.

“I think you can do better than staring.” And with that said, the girl pulled him into a soft kiss.

Sam silently fanboyed, covering his mouth to avoid a squeal from coming out. Cas(s) squinted at Sam’s behaviour, but let it pass for he was too happy for his best friend to care. Every single cherub squealed, shivered, cried and even screamed out loud on the radio about that moment.

And even in all that mess, (Y/N) and Dean hadn’t heard a thing. Their lips were hesitant and slow, afraid to go too fast and ruin it. Dean’s hands were on (Y/N)’s hips, and her hands were gripping tightly on Dean’s jacket. They had their eyes closed, letting every other sense feel the kiss.

Once the kiss was broken, Dean pressed his forehead against (Y/N)’s. Their eyes remained closed, and (Y/N) let out a shy giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Dean asked in a whisper.

“I just met you.” She spoke, “Literally… A week and a half ago.”

“Yeah well, if my Math is right, we should get married next week.” Dean joked.

“You can’t marry a man you’ve just met.” She insisted. Dean pulled away, finally opening their eyes.

“Did you just quote Frozen?” He asked.

“I don’t know, did you just recognize a quote from Frozen?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“I uh… No I didn’t.” He shook his head.



“Where are we going?” She complained once more.

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” Dean repeated for the millionth time that day.

He was literally dragging her around the neighbourhood. He hadn’t been in that town for ages, yet he remembered the way as if he walked by it every day.

The same building was still standing. There was a poster on the door that read: Tarot reading.

A tarot reading? Are you serious?” She asked perplex.

“It’s more than that, you’ll see.” Dean smirked.

“I never expected you, out of all humans, to be the kind of person that likes getting readings.” (Y/N) chuckled.

“Out of all humans, I’m the one that gets every kind of unexpected things.” Dean replied.

“What does that even mean?” She exclaimed, trying to cover her smile.

How could Dean explain to his fiancé that, many years ago, the witch on the other side of the door had told him about his soulmate? How could he explain to her about the cherubs spying on them as they kissed for the first time? How could he without scaring her away?

“It means that we’re here because I need to thank an old friend for… For guiding me.” Dean winked.

The girl decided not to argue anymore. She was curious about Dean’s old friend, and what kind of guide that person had offered to the man.

Dean knocked the door and the same lady opened the door. This time, her orange hair was starting to turn grey as the wrinkles around her eyes became deeper. However, she had still the same smile Dean remembered.

“Dean, what a long time has been!” She cheered, pulling him into a hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Come on, don’t you know?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. The old lady shook her head; Dean sighed and stepped aside to let the witch see (Y/N).

“You found her.” The witch whispered.

“Found who?” The girl asked.

“My soulmate.” Dean smiled, the girl blushed immediately.


Dean and the witch explained to (Y/N) about the tarot reading. Dean told her about Sam immediately spotting her as his soulmate and how, if it wasn’t for the witch, Dean would’ve taken a lot longer to understand he needed to be with her.

“So you told him about me and that’s why he made a move so fast?” (Y/N) asked once more, not fully understanding everything.

“Yes, dear. Although, Samuel played a big part. If he hadn’t spotted you, Dean wouldn’t have known it was you and not anyone else.” The witch explained.

“Guess we also got to thank Sammy.” (Y/N) mumbled.

“You two would’ve ended together one way or another, Sam just helped to make it faster.” The witch spoke.

“Sam and you…” Dean corrected.

“Oh, Dean.” The witch shook his comments with a hand gesture.


After a few hours of talking and sharing their story with the witch, (Y/N) and Dean left the building.

“So a witch told you about me on a tarot reading.” The girl breathed out as she and Dean walked through the desert streets, under the moonlight.

“That’s right.” Dean nodded.

“You know? Ever since I met you, my life has turned weirder and weirder.” She joked.

“You already hunted monsters, sweetheart.” Dean smirked.

“Yes, but while I hunted monsters, you shared drinks with Crowley.” She continued.

“Touché.” Dean winked, “But you can’t deny you love this weirdness.”

“True. I love it, and I definitely love you, big ass weirdo.” She laughed.

Dean pulled her closer, crashing his lips against hers.

“You better.” He whispered above his lips, “Because I already put a ring on it, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go.”

“Did you just quote Beyoncé?” She giggled.

“Did you just recognize a quote by Beyoncé?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows.

“Of course not!” She defended herself.


And there, under the moonlight, they kissed just like the very first time.

But it is important to realize that Elizabeth was by her very existence already a figure of scandal; not only the daughter of an infamous woman and a much-married man but a femme sole – at a time when the law of England did not recognize any status for the average woman beyond daughter, ward, wife or widow. She was a queen regnant and, what is yet more, queen regnant of a Protestant country. The sixteenth century saw a number of women hold the reins of government, among them the regents Mary of Guise in Scotland and Catherine de Medici in France, or Mary of Hungary and Marguerite of Navarre. But not only did most of the others hold their power as temporary substitutes for a dead husband, young son or distant emperor; they were (like Mary Tudor) formally subject – whatever their temporal powers – to the spiritual power of Rome. Elizabeth, then, was in an unprecedented position. Had she been chaste as ice and cold as snow, she would not have escaped calumny.
—  Elizabeth and Leicester by Sarah Gristwood
Come What May - Sonny Carisi

Request: Can I maybe get a sonny x reader based off the song Come What May from Moulin Rouge? :)

Never knew I could feel like this

Like I’ve never seen the sky before                

Want to vanish inside your kiss

Every day I’m loving you more and more

 When Sonny first met Y/N, he never thought she was the woman that he’d fall in love with. But he did. And he fell hard. Each time he was with her, whether themselves or with other people, he felt completely helpless. Call it cliché, but she was the only thing that Sonny Carisi thought about on the job. Y/N was a prosecutor. She shadowed Barba some days in order to make applying for a state job easier. She walked into the squad room after one of those instances and she and Carisi locked eyes. Her eyes teased him but her smile was innocent. She walked off into one of the break rooms and Carisi followed her, closing the door behind him.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, ya know that?” Sonny growled as he kissed her. Y/N laughed. Something she did to provoke him. It always worked. Their lips moved together in sync. Like they knew what the other was thinking. Her kiss functioned as his Kryptonite. He was nothing without it. Y/N pulled away, her arms draped loosely around his neck.

“Get back to work, detective.” She winked before walking out of the room. He had no time to think about it anymore. All that was known was that Sonny Carisi was in love with this woman. And he had a feeling that he’d continue to fall.

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing?

Telling me to give you everything

Seasons may change from winter to spring

But I’ll love you until the end of time

Later in the evening, after both Sonny and Y/N actually arrived home, they actually had time to themselves. It was rare that they did but they always cherished it. Y/N laid with her head on Sonny’s chest, listening contently to his heartbeat. The house was dark. Not dim but completely dark. It was alright, though. The two of them liked it. They could feel the presence of their other half and that was all they needed.

 "Ya know something, doll?’ Sonny spoke, breaking the silence. Y/N hummed in response. She lifted her head up a bit to listen to him better and he continued to speak. “I’m pretty sure you’re the reason my heart beats like it does.”

“Unevenly? I think you might need to get that checked out.” Y/N joked. Sonny chuckled and the silence was back. “I know what you mean.” She spoke again, quietly this time. “You’ve changed me.” That was all Sonny needed to hear. He moved her off of him and stood up. “In a good way-” Sonny turned on one of the lights and then he was standing in front of Y/N again. He held a ring box in his hand.

“You’ve changed me too. It’s normal for things to change and this is a change I want to make.” He opened the tiny box and a Y/N laid her eyes on a beautiful diamond engagement ring. It wasn’t expensive or extravagant and that’s what both of them wanted. Simplicity. “Marry me.”

Come what may

 Come what may

Come what may

 Come what may

I will love you until my dying day

Y/N walked into the squad room again, wearing her engagement ring proudly on her finger. No one commented on it but Y/N didn’t mind. She knew it was true that she and Sonny were in love. Once again, Y/N was consulting on a case.

 "So what-?“ She interrupted Barba when she started coughing. Over and over again until she could barely breathe. Sonny, being concerned, put his hand on her shoulder.

"You okay?” He asked, his eyes staring into hers. She tried taking a deep breath, only taking small shallow ones.

 "Yeah. Probably the allergies.“ If only that was the case. Oh, how she wished that was all. About two months later, after the cough persisted and was accompanied by chest pains, even more shortness of breath and loss of appetite, Y/N thought that something more could be wrong. When she was caught hunching over the toilet, bright red liquid spewing from her mouth, Sonny made her go to the hospital. The two of them sat in the waiting room for several hours before they could see a doctor. Sonny mumbled under his breath about their timing. Y/N tried to chuckle along but a string of coughs originating deep in her chest caused he to stop.

"Y/N Y/L/N?” The doctor walked in shortly after Y/N was put in a room. After receiving several tests, including a CT and x-ray, the diagnosis came back. “…stage 3 small-cell lung cancer.”

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn’t seem like such a waste

It all revolves around you

And there’s no mountain too high

 No river to wide

Sing out this song and I’ll be there by your side

Y/N didn’t want chemotherapy. She always claimed that it would ultimately make her sicker. And that wasn’t how she wanted to go. Laying in her bed at home, she embraced the silence that was around her. But, sometimes, that isn’t the best idea. She thought about her future. Or the future that she would’ve had. Sonny was her life. He was everything to her. She remembered the dejected, terrified look on his face when she stated that she didn’t want to begin treatment right away. Their relationship hadn’t been quite the same. Sonny would leave for work earlier than usual and Y/N would stay in bed all day, only getting up for the occasional bathroom breaks. That’s only because she refused to have a bedpan.

“Doll?” The familiar voice called. He sounded skittish. Y/N hummed in response, trying to control her breathing. Sonny walked further into the bedroom, smiling weakly.

 "How was-?“ She coughed again. "How-?” And again. “How was your d-?” And again. Sonny grabbed the water bottle off of the desk table and handed it to her. He wanted to be supportive. He wanted to be the good fiancé. The one who loved and cherished his woman. But he couldn’t seem to support this particular choice.

 "It was fine.“ He answered. He couldn’t bare seeing her in pain. The silence was overbearing as always. Especially for Sonny. He climbed into bed next to Y/N, careful not to disturb anything. She cuddled into him. She was cold and not normal cold. No. A different kind of cold. Laying in the position, Y/N realized that this was what she fought for. She fought her parents for this man. She fought the universe and it’s sick and twisted ways for this long. Why stop now? She had to keep going. She was at least going to marry Sonny.

Storm clouds may gather

 And stars may collide

But I love you

Until the end of time

It was brutal. The constant puking and fatigue was something that she couldn’t handle. Or so she thought. Sonny support helped, though. Each treatment that she got, every single appointment, he attended. The two hadn’t married yet, however. Sonny wanted to wait until Y/N was healthy but Y/N could care less. She’d be alright with marrying in the hospital. And that’s what she was trying to convince him to do.

 "It’ll be-” She wheezed a bit. “It’ll be simple. And-And cheap.” Her voice was hoarse. Terribly hoarse. Sonny smiled at her and grabbed her hand in a comforting manner.

“Once you get better-”

“What if I don’t?” She wheezed. The silence reappeared suddenly and Sonny actually considered finding an officiant in the hospital and marrying this woman in the cancer ward. “Wait here.” He decided. Walking out into the halls, he tried to find the front desk. Somewhere where he could ask. Meanwhile, Y/N’s doctor walked in. He seemed to be wielding good news. At least that’s what the smile on his face seemed to say.

“The cancer cells are beginning to shrink, Ms. Y/L/N. You have a pretty good chance at full recovery.” As soon as he was there, he was gone and off to the next patient. Y/N knew that this was a blessing. One day, she’d die. Everyone dies. But she knew now that it wouldn’t be anytime soon. When she seen Sonny walking into the ward with who she thought was an officiant, her smile grew. Two good things in one day. It doesn’t get any better than that.

The Bloodied Bouquet - Prelude

“It… it g-grew back today.”

The room went silent, the flame of the oil lamp on the floor somehow too faint to light as much as it should. Her shadow felt too long, as did her father’s, wavering and dancing as if with a mind of it’s own. Her father squeezed her hand tight in his, his fingers callused and knuckles gnarled from a lifetime of labor.

The air outside was still. The light from the house over didn’t reach their window.


“A-again… i-it, it’s the… it didn’t… I know I b-burned it, but it w-was the same size, a-and… and everything. It… it was… e-exactly t-the same.”

“In one day…”

“I-in one day.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I was hoping I could hear your thoughts on the racism that Ward himself has personally displayed. I've seen his misogyny discussed by a lot of people, but I don't think I have seen anyone talking about his abuse of people of colour (his sexual abuse of Skye, May, and Kara, his complicity in the torture and dehumanization of Mike Peterson).

HELL yes, anon! yeah let’s absolutely talk about this because it’s important. ward? he’s a fucking racist. surprise! i mean, no, obviously it’s not a surprise. it’s not a surprise at all. and don’t let any apologists tell you otherwise. because ward? i fully believe this dude is a white supremacist.

first and foremost, hydra. i’ve already discussed why it’s not relevant that ward was never a “true believer.” it’s irrelevant. the dude’s hydra. no, not now more than ever. he’s been hydra. he just took a break to murder his family and take advantage of a vulnerable woman. “oh he’s just using hydra for his own gain!” how convenient! that sounds an awful lot like… he’s hydra! this argument hinges on the fact that hydra, well, they’re basically neo-nazis. because they are. they weren’t. in the 40s they were just plain nazis.

let’s talk about not being a “twoo believer.” right? because he wasn’t! and that’s fine (still hydra, though). while he was “using hydra for his own gain,” he was also using hydra for john garrett’s own gain. garrett? yep! also hydra. so… super hydra. as we all remember, garrett was “the clairvoyant.” garrett was sad that shield was shield and left him injured in the field so the dude was like, centipede project? i’m all about this! who are the lovely centipede “recruits” that we know? akela amador, mike peterson, and chan ho yin. ALL PEOPLE OF COLOR. ward was COMPLICIT in this. ward knew the WHOLE TIME what they were doing to akela, mike, and chan ho yin. the episode the bridge? ward knew the WHOLE TIME mike was being controlled by garrett. he literally had to pretend he was shocked! garrett literally controlled mike and akela’s lives until they had the backscatter implant removed. he literally took their agency from them. and ward knew the whole time. the fact that this was backed by hydra, the nazis? means garrett and ward are racist shitstains. even after chan ho yin was killed and akela amador was freed, ward continually called mike a “thing” or a “robot,” which is really fucking rich coming from him. ward was down for this. he was a part of making mike deathlok. he’s disgusting and has no right.

as far as the women go, nonwhite women often experience misogyny that is also tied into racism. we’ll call it racialized misogyny because that’s what it is. has ward ever been like, “oh skye should be sexually submissive because she’s asian” or “i have yellow fever” or “i love fiery latinxs”? nah. but he doesn’t have to. consider how he completely disregards not just human life, but especially lives of people of color. it’s not exactly a leap to assume that ward forcefully tried to control three women of color sexually. it’s not a leap to believe that it’s because he truly believes himself to be such a hot shit alpha white dude, especially considering brett dalton himself has whined that may’s line about ward never being on top was “the most emasculating thing [he’s] ever heard.” which… i just ate popcorn for lunch and i may hork it back up. like, the context? it’s beyond fucked up. it doesn’t even need unpacking. it’s pretty cut and dry. not to mention that dalton truly believes that his character did these women a favor by making them “stronger” through abusing them.

tl;dr: yep! ward is a white supremacist. he completely disregards the lives of people of color, was complicit in the agency stripping of akela amador and mike peterson, didn’t give a fuck about chan ho yin, and believes he’s the white man every woman needs.

Scattered: Part 4

Notes: mentions of smut, kinda fluffly, angsty as well.

Tags : @cozetty  @yellowtheremarvelfan @just-me-kaitie @gingerrootknits

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Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hey, I really love your thoughts on misogyny in Much Ado (and Much Ado in general) but I was wondering about your thoughts on Don Pedro? I really love him most of the time but he is pretty Problematic w/ the whole Hero situation, and considering that, I don't quite know what to make of him... Just thought I'd ask because I love and agree with everything you've said about the rest of the play :P

Probably the most important thing about Don Pedro is how he relates to Benedick, and how the two men change positions. At the start of the play, Don Pedro seems like the reasonable, respectable one out of the soldiers. He teases Benedick about marriage, gently chastises him for being a “tyrant” to women, insists that he’ll live to see Benedick fall in love, all while Benedick is bitching about how marriage is a trap and he’ll die a bachelor. Don Pedro agrees to help Claudio win Hero as Benedick boos and insults her. 

The most important distinction is that Don Pedro appears to respect women while Benedick does not. The prince is nothing but courteous towards Hero, and he treats Beatrice as an equal while Benedick endlessly fights with her. He even asks Beatrice to marry him – and remember this woman is a ward of her uncle’s. It would be hugely inappropriate for the prince to marry someone of her station, yet Pedro would have “doffed all other respects and made her half myself.” It’s not clear how serious he is about wanting to marry her, but he clearly likes her, and he takes her rejection with good grace. He seems to recognize that intellectually he is not a proper match for her – no, she “were an excellent wife for Benedick.” 

But the Hero situation puts all the men to the test, and Pedro fails that test. As Beatrice says, men are all talk and no action, and what you say means nothing – it’s what you do that counts. So when Don John – who is known to be untrustworthy – comes and tells Don Pedro that Hero is unfaithful, instead of calming Claudio down and advising him to quietly call the wedding off – or to look for solid proof – or to not believe this villain at all – he says, “I wooed for thee to obtain her, I will join with thee to disgrace her.”

Pedro’s a prince, and he’s the leader of the boys’ club. Claudio looks up to Pedro and seeks his counsel and guidance on everything – he can’t even woo Hero and win her hand, Don Pedro has to do that for him. This world is ruled by misogyny, so it makes perfect sense that the prince, the royal figure with the most power in the play, should espouse and embody those attitudes, and encourage them in his subjects. After everything Don Pedro said before this point, we would expect him to behave reasonably and keep the young Claudio from doing anything stupid. But he doesn’t. And if you listen to the dirty jokes he tells and the way he joins in the lewd banter about Hero’s paternity, it’s clear we should’ve seen this coming.

Pedro believes this young girl deserves public disgrace and death. He is willing to endanger her life and shame Leonato too, because he feels that his own honour has been compromised: at the wedding, he declares, “I stand dishonour’d, that have gone about/To link my dear friend to a common stale.” He is cruel – deliberately cruel to Hero, he wants to use violence upon her because it is the only way to restore his masculine honour. Don Pedro said he loved Hero and that he was in favour of love and marriage – but what he does is almost kill a girl, and when Leonato tells him Hero is dead, he shows no remorse. She was a strumpet, who cares? Better off dead, right?

As for Benedick, he stands by this girl and her cousin. He pleads for calm, he’s the voice of reason. He said he hated Hero and Beatrice and that you can’t trust women, but what he does is care for Hero, believe and trust Beatrice unconditionally, and challenge his two closest friends for their cruel actions. He actually defends women, with his sword, with action and not words.

So at the end of the play, it all comes full circle. Benedick has won the lady’s hand. It is Benedick whom Beatrice loves. Don Pedro? He’s all alone, and deservedly so, and Benedick quips to him, echoing the conversation they had at the start of the play: “Prince, thou art sad. Get thee a wife. Get thee a wife. There’s no staff more reverend that one tipped with horn.” These two, and the way they trade places, perfectly encapsulates Beatrice’s bitter rant: 

“But manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into compliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and trim ones too: he is now as valiant as Hercules that only tells a lie and swears it.”

- and also her plea with Benedick to use his hand “for my love some other way than swearing by it.” In love, as on the battlefield, it’s what you do, not what you say that counts, and so the Prince’s Jester proved himself more honourable and a better choice of husband than the Prince by far.

John Brown’s Body

John Brown was an abolitionist who led a raid on the armory at Harper’s Ferry in 1859, believing that armed insurrection was the best course for eliminating slavery in America. He was defeated by a coalition that included local pro-slavery forces and US Marines led by Robert E Lee. He was arrested, found guilty of treason, murder, and inciting insurrection, and hanged.

During the Civil War, Union soldiers amused themselves around the campfire by creating a little tune about old John Brown. The lyrics were pretty simple and repetitive, e.g.,

John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave, 
John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering in the grave,
But his soul goes marching on.

Glory, glory, hallelujah,
Glory, glory, hallelujah,
His soul goes marching on.

There are many other variations on this song, but my preferred version is by William Weston Patton, which was published in the Chicago Tribune in October 1861. This is the version I wanted to share with you:

Old John Brown’s body lies moldering in the grave,
While weep the sons of bondage whom he ventured all to save;
But tho he lost his life while struggling for the slave,
His soul is marching on.

John Brown was a hero, undaunted, true and brave,
And Kansas knows his valor when he fought her rights to save;
Now, tho the grass grows green above his grave,
His soul is marching on.

He captured Harper’s Ferry, with his nineteen men so few,
And frightened “Old Virginny” till she trembled thru and thru;
They hung him for a traitor, themselves the traitor crew,
But his soul is marching on.

John Brown was John the Baptist of the Christ we are to see,
Christ who of the bondmen shall the Liberator be,
And soon thruout the Sunny South the slaves shall all be free,
For his soul is marching on.

The conflict that he heralded he looks from heaven to view,
On the army of the Union with its flag red, white and blue.
And heaven shall ring with anthems o’er the deed they mean to do,
For his soul is marching on.

Ye soldiers of Freedom, then strike, while strike ye may,
The death blow of oppression in a better time and way,
For the dawn of old John Brown has brightened into day,
And his soul is marching on.

As you have probably guessed by now if you didn’t already know, a woman named Julia Ward Howe heard this song and decided to adapt the tune into her own “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” which is the “glory, glory, hallelujah” song you’re probably more familiar with. This song is sung to the same tune, in case you’re wondering how to sing John Brown’s Body. Just insert your “glory glory”s in between each stanza.

I prefer John Brown’s Body over the Battle Hymn by a pretty fair sight, despite the latter’s much greater popularity. I do like this last stanza, however:

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea,
With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me:
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free,
While God is marching on.