whew!

Nothing prepares you for a hot flash--a *real* hot flash, not that mild feeling of goodness, it's a wee bit warm. These things are the devil! I'm talking sweat--I never sweat and now, I'm sweating like a--a--gross sweaty thing. For me anyway. And it's an icky clammy kind of sweat, not even a decent sweat like you get on a summer day. My ears are burning, my cheeks are burning, my neck is all sweaty--double chins are no one's friend. Save money now, yong people, odds are no matter how thin you are now, some day, you're going to have double chins. It's good to put away some chin2 money. Get that thing taken in. No need to thank me, I wish someone had told me when I was young and pudgy but tight.

Gravity.

Sucks.

Menopause. Every fucking visit to my doctor ends with, "and even if you're entering menopause, you still need to use birth control--at least for a year." I'm beginning to think he has some kind of fixation. Or maybe he just likes seeing my face screw up, and my exasperated sigh. *sigh*

I share my friends--I'm a sharing kind of person. :)

SpN: Non Timebo Mala 24/?

Title: Non Timebo Mala
Author: roxy
Pairings/Characters: Dean/OCs, Sam/OCs, Dean/Sam
Rating:R
Word Count: 1930
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.)

Sam tipped the brim of his cap up a bit and tried to search out what was wrong. They'd been having a good talk until then…Sam blinked—of course. The reason Dean hadn't come to his room…Sam sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd read a man wrong. He was glad that he hadn't gone farther. He liked Dean and wouldn’t have wanted to put him in the dirt. Dean finished off his drink and slapped the glass down.

"Well, Sam Singer, I think it's time to hit the hay."

Sam was surprised—figured Dean would be showing him the gate, the way he'd looked. He asked, "I'm staying again?" and didn't bother to correct Dean's assumption concerning his last name.

"Well…yeah?"

( All right then. Thank you. )

Happy Birthday!!

theclexfactor!! Who's my girl? That's right! You are!

Have a happy, fun filled birthday--tell the fam I said to spoil you rotten! ;)