#horrorificillusions

When Roxy was a child, her abusive father would occasionally have moments of genuine affection toward her. In those moments, he would sing “Sweet Child O’ Mine” by Guns n Roses. 

Despite the abuse, hearing him sing it would immediately make her feel safe and loved and wanted. 

It had been almost a year since Roxy had gotten the letter saying her brother had died in combat. She told herself many a time she was done. With everything. With American flags, with the military, with that stupid yellow ribbon displayed on the tree in her front yard. And every time she went to take it down, she couldn’t do it.

She wasn’t sure what possessed her to do it, but Roxy decided to sift through the list of active Marines. Maybe it would help her cope with the loss of her brother. Maybe it’d gain her a friend. Whatever it might do, it had to be better than sitting at home, wallowing in her own loneliness.

John Winchester. The name popped out at her unexpectedly and she decided to look into it further. No one had chosen him to send care packages to. Not in the many years of service he had given. That didn’t seem fair. Alright, then. He would be the one.

Week after week, she packed up toiletries like deodorant, shaving cream, fresh razors, shampoo, conditioner, and soap. Eventually, she started sending him tv dinners and a six pack of beer from her local brewery. Before long, she would send cologne and whiskey.

Then she started sending letters.

Dear John,

I hope you’ve been getting these packages, and I hope these are things you need. Honestly, I don’t know what to send. It just dawned on me after three months of sending things that I could easily include a letter.

My brother served in the marines and died a year ago. I’ve dealt with a lot of resentment toward the US military, but putting these packages together for you has helped me realize something. Just because my brother can’t help you fight doesn’t mean I can’t try to do my part in the only way I can.

If you have anything you want me to send to you, my address is on the shipping label. Anything you want, I’ll get it to you.

url: don’t get it | not bad | nice | good job | love it omg | who did you kill

theme: not my type | ehh | decent | I like it | pretty amazing | I’m stealing it

icon: don’t get it | not bad | nice | pretty | flawless omg | brb crying in awe

posts: not my type | not bad | nice job | love | perfection | give me your password

[hi there! We can always start talking if you want to that is :D]

url: don’t get it | not bad | nice | good job | love it omg | who did you kill

theme: not my type | ehh | decent | I like it | pretty amazing | I’m stealing it

icon: don’t get it | not bad | nice | pretty | flawless omg | brb crying in awe

posts: not my type | not bad | nice job | love | perfection | give me your password

I WANT TO GET TO KNOW YOU GUYS SO MESSAGE ME YOUR NAME AND SOMETHING ABOUT YOU

Roxy was making a pretty good living as a bounty hunter for angels. Ever since angel feathers became popular on the black market, she became one of the few that could actually capture a live angel, and she was paid top dollar for them, too. 

Angels were getting smart, and the average hunter had trouble finding them, but Roxy was as close to an expert as you could get. She'd caught wind that there was an angel hiding as a human in Chicago, which was curious enough. 

More than that, the angel was rumored to be Lucifer's second in command. He'd fetch a mighty fine price. Just as good as an Archangel, if not more. He was as close as you could get to Lucifer himself, and that had caught her attention.