#obviouslyjohnlock

I'm still a multi-fandom blog, so I'll probably switch back and forth between seasons.  For now though, my obsession is Teen Wolf; so to all my followers who came to me for Sherlock or Doctor Who and still follow me, GOD BLESS!  I love each and every one of you. I promise I haven't abandoned you!  I just want to make some new friends too.

Heya!

Joey's Adventures in GPOY

or

Trying (and mostly failing) to document my new haircut

Chapter 1: Goddammit that's too close...but I look kinda cute here.

Chapter 2: Let's try 'smizing' like Tyra Banks says! Welp...I kinda look like Mason Verger.

Chapter 3: Finally, the pompadour you've been waiting for.

Chapter 4: Look at this hottie!

This is Mashwarohn. I got him yesterday. His is a harrowing tale of near-death experiences and redemption.

Yesterday, my gf, lil bro, and I went to an Evansville story that carries an ASTOUNDING selection of stuffed animals; I'm talkin' okapis, several species of bat, and a variety of manta rays. 

Anyway, I saw a bunch of catfish and was checking them out when I noticed this little guy was missing a whisker (you can see the bare spot in the photo). 

Always keen for a deal, I asked the clerk if they had a "defective" discount. I had already spent way too much money on this trip, but I figured if he was on sale it was meant to be. 

After calling her manager, the clerk informs us that NOT ONLY can they not give me a discount, but now that his 'malformation' has been discovered, he's gonna have to be 'damaged out.'

I work in retail. I know what that means. This lil fishie wasn't gonna find an accepting home at the goodwill; he was going straight into the trash.

All of a sudden I felt a huge surge of guilt. This plush--who I had already given a name and personality--was about to die because of a slight imperfection...and it was all my fault.

I went back and forth, quite honestly making a scene because I couldn't sentence him to death, but I couldn't spend $15 dollars when I had made a very serious vow only an hour before to cease all spending.

Enter the true heroes of this tale: Rachel and Andy. Pooling together their cash, they offered to buy Mash.

Now the clerk proclaimed she'd have to call her manager again because she didn't think she was allowed to sell damaged goods. I was extremely persistent, however, and plainly told her I was buying this one or nothing at all. Poor girl. I was kind of intense by this point. 

So this is Mash. He's amazingly soft, cuddly, and his fins are great for stroking when I'm anxious (which is often).

And if he's a little lopsided about the whiskers? 

Well, that just makes him special.

So I just realised that my All Things Shining tattoo, which means a whole lot to me (more than just the fic, although that's amazing) has been featured on a "bad tattoo" blog.

They are surprisingly civil about it--they just comment that I should have obeyed my artist's reservations--but really? Why was this necessary?

I know. This is the internet. I put myself out there and the whole "if you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all" schtick hasn't applied since kindergarten. But I'm hurt.

Honestly, I wouldn't have minded if it was just some person who reblogged and added a negative comment. I can dig someone not liking it IT'S A FANFIC-BASED HAND TATTOO FOR PETE'S SAKE.

But this is a blog entirely devoted to bad tats. That's my piece, my face, Jimmy's work, up there for people to mock. 

More than that, they say I "ruined" myself, when sometimes I feel my tattoos are the only thing keeping me here. They saved my life. For that reason alone, they are beyond your criticism.

I'm leaving my post up. I won't be that person. But I've learned my lesson.

"Cross your palms with stars for love."

So here is my "All Things Shining"-inspired tattoo. Yes, these are real. I love the story and all it represents that much.

Disclaimery Part:

I am fully aware that as tattoos go, this is not the most 'practical' placement. The ink will blow out and spread pretty quickly, as the palms are subject to more rapid cellular regeneration than most body parts. Furthermore, the results are unpredictable. This could last me years--it could be practically gone in months. There's little way of knowing. 

In fact, my artist initially refused to do this; he didn't want to attach his name to something that could fail so spectacularly (despite his considerable skill). He only agreed because I was fully aware of--and wouldn't mind--the probable results, and I know what I'm about, having sat for him twelve times previously. 

(In fact, his exact words were "you're damn special" but that's neither here nor there :) )

*     *     *

All of that said, I am pleased as fucking punch to have these subtle reminders of love, luck, and family.

*I don't mean Queensland, sorry Aussies*

I leave for Florida tomorrow morning for a week-long business trip, and I have made the difficult decision TO NOT BRING MY LAPTOP.

As much as I love tumblr, netflix, and the youtube, I look forward to this as a chance to read lots and draw bunches. Scheduled projects include the following:

*Supernatural: One Year Gone (fuck yeah published fanfic)

*The Psychology of Harry Potter

*Enochian Vision Magic (this is a brick of a book combining the history of John Dee and practical instruction on fifteenth-century-based angelic magic--need it be said im fucking pumped?

*designing my lil bro's WtNV/Lovecraft sleeves; god i love tattoo-work

*watching 9.14 of spn on a real live television

*ditto for s2 premiere of Hannibal

So, I just wanted you lovelies to know where I am this week. Wish me luck!