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Amberwind's Journal

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Name:
Erin
Birthdate:
5 April 1982
External Services:
  • amberwind@livejournal.com
  • amberwind2001 AIM status
Schools:
"When you’re a kid, they tell you it’s all… grow up. Get a job. Get married. Get a house. Have a kid, and that’s it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It’s so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better." - Elton, Doctor Who, "Love and Monsters"


I'm going to warn you right now, this journal is a bit weird.

Most of the time, I'll be posting fiction, and quite a bit of that will be Doctor Who oriented (including quite a bit of Doctor/Rose shipping, stay away thou of queasy, non-fluff-bearing stomachs). Sometimes, I'll be posting bits of my artwork, including updates on my prints shop. Occasionally I'll be posting meta (not often, I prefer to comment and expand on other people's meta rather than my own, keeps my head clear).

And every once in a rare while, I'll actually post something personal, in regards to my actual life, and when I do it's probably not going to be pretty.

First and foremost, regardless of what I'm posting, I'm posting for me, myself, and I. I put my fiction behind cuts, and I try to keep images small. If you click on links and find you don't like what you see, you do not have the right to bitch at me for it--I am not responsible for your internet behavior. I post to get things out of my brain, and if you're silly enough to read it then it's on your own head. I'll do my best to respect your opinions (can't promise I'll be entirely successful--I am still but a lowly human), and I ask the same. Golden Rule, and all that jazz.

So, if I haven't scared you away yet, please sit back and enjoy.

VIOLA:

A blank, my lord. She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought,
And with a green and yellow melancholy
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?
We men may say more, swear more: but indeed
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

--Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act 2, Scene 4

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