from the valley

and     my     mind,     and     my     gun, they     comfort     me

[walksvally]

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well, i came upon a man at the top of the hill / called himself savior of the human race / said he's come to save the world from destruction and pain,

WALKSVALLY, independent, private, and selective blog for WINCHESTER, DEAN of eric kripke's supernatural. [... but i said, "how can you save the world from itself?"] ᵉˢᵗ ²⁰¹³

⁰¹ dossier. ⁰² journal. ⁰³ mixtape. ⁰⁴ polaroids.

[walksvally]

@out1awtorn

[walksvally]

choosing to take a break from dean. anybody who wants to write, follow me on sawyer. ♡

[walksvally]

@out1awtorn

[lost-in-eriador]

in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.

[mothermary1983]

　　　“ YOU ARE NOT MEANT TO BE SOFT. ”   but her hands crown and arms embrace;   and her lips kiss away another’s grief and profess a love unknown but lent in moment of need.   FORGIVING BUT NEVER FORGIVEN   …   false crucifix from which martyr fell ⸻ risen from an empty grave deemed her own.   crown,   embrace,    suffer love’s cost. 

[mothermary1983]

　　　⛧　　　 @walksvally   sent,     “  you   think   they’re   looking   at   us?  ”

　　　eyne   drift   at   dean’s   query,   searching   for   the     “  they  ”     in   question.   it’s   not   hard,   really,   when   several   stare   back   …   unfazed,   mary   shakes   whatever   remains   of   her   iced   coffee   and   lifts   a   shoulder   in   half   a   shrug.     “  we’re   covered   in   blood   and   fuck   knows   what   else.   yeah,   dean.   i   think   they’re   lookin’   at   us.   i   also   think   you   should   probably   hurry   before   somebody   gets   the   bright   idea   of   callin’   someone   …   and   maybe   wait   ’til   the   next   town   to   restock   the   jerky.  ”

[walksvally]

it's stagnant, the air between him and the elderly couple two aisles over; mamaw with her wary gaze, papaw with an ire recognized from his father, john. cold, calculated, calluses intent on the slow pull of a trigger, and the brief reprieve once it's fired, it's dead. maybe he recognizes it in himself. but there is a difference here: this man sees evil in wild dogs with mange, and dean is dressed in that very disease.

... and fuck knows what else. yeah, dean. i think they're lookin' at us.

"what?" he is skittish with it, too, looking to his mother before his answer's found in blood, on his hands, red and wet and smearing o'er the coolers' handle. wrenching away, [thought i got all this shit off.] he blinks once, twice, and just as it had shed, it is gone 'neath his nails, hardened in the dirt and guts lain in his skin all the same. "... yeah," timbre's faint, and it remains so watching his fingers tremble. "they're lookin', alright."

[this what it's gonna be,] trying to live like little house on the prairie? when the rooster screams, he's going to hear the souls he tortured; and when passing through small towns, he has to try and breathe as he is gored from within? [heavens to fuckin' betsy.] six pack pulled, he winces, twinge in his shoulder having gone forgotten. "m'gonna go pay, i'll meet you out there." unspoken: let me meet you out there.

[walksvally]

PSALM 23:4, yea, though i walk through the valley of death, i will fear no evil, for thou art with me; my mind and my gun, they comfort me. [ ... ] WINCHESTER, DEAN of eric kripke's supernatural, hunted by chevy.