Why. oh why?

Why aren't tons of people writing Sam/Castiel? I want it so much, I just adore the idea. *siiiigh* Why can't everyone else see how great it is? Or why can't people just sit at home and say, gosh, I should be writing roxy something good right now--say, a little Sam/Cas, or Whit/Clark, or Dean/OMC, or dub-con Lex/Lucas, or borderline non-con Brex or non-con Lex/Whit...where is the love, people, where is the love?

Speaking of love, my love for Denise/Drew of Scrubs grows--in fact it burns like a hot flame and I'd so read it if it existed. Those two are hot like a raging fire and Denise--if I loved her anymore, I'd have to marry her. I totally thought the revamped Scrubs was going to stink like DeadSonja Henie on ice but no, I fucking love it. *happysigh*

See? I made myself all smiles again! Yay!!

Birthday Wishes

I wish a happy birthday to my dear enderwiggin24, forever your chocolate truffle. I hope this birthday's good! I did write a little Lucas/lex for Christmas, let me know if you want to see it! :)

And even though you haven't visited in a long time, I hope that your birthday was good, dianehc, I miss you!

SpN: Non Timebo Mala 17/?

Title: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Dean/Sam
Rating: R for violence
Word Count:
Spoilers: might be considered spoilery for All Hell Breaks Loose
Summary: Sam Winchester is looking for the ultimate weapon, one that will destroy the demon who destroyed his family. Dean Kane was raised to be a maker of weapons. He was just the man Sam needed.

Notes/Warnings: This is my AU version of the Colt's making. Increeeedibly AU. It's completely a child of my wild imaginings, thus, expect anachronisms and flagrant display of personal fanon. Warnings for sex ( occasional het and M/M, incest, rape.)

Additional warning this chapter for character death.

The gift was a pendent, no bigger than Dean's fingertip. A star in a circle, with a ring of stylized flames around it. On the back, written around the circle were two words:never forgotten. Dean liked it, liked that the words could mean…whatever he wanted. "Thanks, Pa," he said again and turned the pendant in his palm. "It's silver…that's good. And…small. Very small," he said and puzzled over it for a moment. It would fit on the thong he wore around his wrist but….

"It's meant to go in your bag—and speaking of your bag—" Tobe handed Dean a new cord, with bits of silver wire woven into it. "You need a new cord; the old one's wearing through—don't want to loose that bag nowhere, right?"

( He settled the pendant inside the bag and restrung it. Beamed, and shoved another orange slice into his mouth.  )