msirukacullen

HI GUYS I'M BACK HERE I PROBABLY WON'T POST ANY ART BUT HMU K BECAUSE I MISS ALL OF MY MIDDLE SCHOOL FRIENDS

Hey. It's been a ride, but it needs to end for everybody, eh? We're all stories in the end.

1. You must post these rules!
2. Answer the questions that the tagger set up for you, and create 10 new questions for the people you tag to answer.
3. You have to choose 10 people to tag and post their icons on your journal.
4. Go to their pages and tell them you have tagged them.
5. No tag backs!!~
6. No junk in the tagging section about " You are tagged if you're reading this. " You have to tag 10 people.

Ze questions I have been tagged withz: *groans*
1. What's your favorite animal? - Raccoons, yes.
2. Dog or Cat? - Cats, though I have been referred to before as "a loyal puppy". *Rolls eyes*
3. : ) or ( : ? - I don't understand the meaning of this question?
4. What's your favorite band/musician? - Twenty One Pilots, Alt-J, Two Door Cinema Club... there's a ton.
5. If you could have one super power, what would it be? - The capability to look at someone and deduct enough to know their life's history. 
6. Why is movie popcorn so overpriced? - They want to cheat you.
7. Walmart or Target? - Target is less trashy.
8. Book or Movie? - Books, always.
9. Kirk or Picard? - Kirk, I like my men with hair, than you.
10. What…is the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?(Monty Python reference) - I saw 'The Holy Grail' once, and that was ages ago. I'm the wrong person to as.

My questions Mwahaha:
1. do u like anime? Sure, not as much as I used to, but..
2. what annoys u most? People who are 'RANDOM! TACOZZZ XD!!!!" Sorry, but.
3. what do u think of short and brown haired girls? XP Cute, I guess. I have short brown hair and I am of the female gender, so.
4. what's your fave quote? "Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." -Sherlock Holmes, The Great Game (BBC)  
5. what time period would you live in if you could time travel to the past? The Victorian Era, definitely.
6. would you rather make a masterpiece on canvas or sidewalk? Canvas.
7. what's your talent? Being a general arse to people. Also, being sociable.
8. what's your dream vacation? England and the UK
9. would you move somewhere out of country if you could? What? Out of the states? Well, England, yes.
10. what do you think of tags? They're impossibly tedious and I'm not going to subject someone else to this.

You and the stranger both like teenlock.
You: John Watson stood nervously in the line for lunch. He wasn't nervous about the food-- all cafeteria food was the same-- so much as the seating. He was brand new to this big school in this big city, and he felt alone. He didn't want to eat alone, but his only friend, Mike, was off with his other mates. He chose his food carefully, steadying his trembling hands and scanning the full caf.
Stranger: Sherlock Holmes had a reputation. If you asked around the school, he was near-universally hated. The students whispered names-- 'freak' or worse -- and even the teachers found him insufferable, as he had the tendency to interrupt classes with their personal information when he bothered to show up. So he spent his lunch as he spent any lunch where someone managed to round him up into the cafeteria: eavesdropping on people's conversations at the end of a table by himself, not touching his food.
You: "The cafeteria really is packed," John muttered. He'd be lucky to find a seat. He glanced quickly out the window-- maybe he could sit outside? Nope. The rain lashed at the windows and the wind howled. For a fleeting moment, he considered eating in his homeroom class. Then, the fighter in him took control and he narrowed his eyes and charged into the battlefield.
Stranger: Sherlock glanced at the student who had approached for a moment. A new transfer who'd just moved to London, likely because there was some expanded family of his mother's in the area. "Who initiated the breakup, your mum or your dad?" Sherlock asked before he could contain himself.
You: "Mum's," John muttered. "It's been rough." Then he paused. "Hold on, how on Earth did you know that?" The boy sitting in front of him was unfamiliar. John'd be damned if he'd ever spoken a word to the kid. Yet this boy asked him one of the most personal questions one could ask, as if they were close friends. It was then that he noticed the wide berth around the boy. Some four or five seats around him were empty. John hesitated before sitting slowly down across from him.
Stranger: Sherlock nodded, considering. "Mother's more likely, at your age," he stated abstractly. His eyes widened just slightly as the other boy sat across from him rather than arguing or running away. Pushing past his surprised, he answered. "You're new here, but you're still confused. They give tours of the school beforehand for students who are planning to move, but you didn't have time for one, so you know your way around. Your uniform's secondhand, and it's not that expensive of a uniform, so money's tight. Moving to London suddenly on so little income? Likely this was the only place you could go, whoever made the money in your family is no longer involved so you're staying with a relative who lives here. An aunt, probably, on your mother's side. All signs point to a recent, sudden breakup between your parents, but don't worry about it, they're better off."
You: John wanted to be angry. He did. But this was incredible. He had to say something brilliant back. Come on. Come on! "You're observant," he managed. Brilliant.
Stranger: Sherlock waited for this new boy to respond, to get offended, stand up and leave, or possibly try to hit him. Nothing happened. "Very observant, yes, good deduction," he answered, slightly dumbstruck.
You: John smiled, feeling a bit daft, and tucked in to his lunch. His mouth was crammed full of canned peas when a question struck him. "Why are you alone, anyway?" he asked, feeling stupid and trying his best to swallow his food without choking. "You seem smart enough." He didn't comment on the boy's obvious good looks. He certainly did not want the first person he was enjoying to call him a puff. He was also sure the boy was confident in his appearance. He had short, curly black hair and a thin, pale face. He was tall in stature-- John guessed he was taller than himself-- and had a pleasant voice. John assumed that a bloke like this would have the world in his hands. But he didn't say it.
Stranger: Sherlock watched the other boy watching him, not fully comprehending what was going on. "Why am I alone?" he repeated incredulously. "I just am, there's no question of why. I don't have friends, join clubs, play sports, do group projects, or whatever else it is people do. People don't normally respond so reasonably to my knowing things about them, and I know everything about everyone, no matter how insufferably boring it is. You're right about one thing, at least, I'm the smartest person in this school, including the teachers," Sherlock stated. "Sherlock Holmes," he finally introduced himself. "You're new, so you haven't heard of me."
You: At his old school, with his old family and friends, John might have found this boy insufferable. But John wasn't the old John. He was new John, with a new slate. This boy was both mysterious and smart. John smiled at the boy and extended his hand at the introduction. "Sherlock Holmes," he repeated. "What a name. Sounds heroic. Like that of the name of a comic book hero, or something. An epic tale. 'The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes'. Has a nice ring to it." he grinned, then realized he hadn't told the boy his name. "John Watson," he said quickly, hand still extended. "Tenth year."
Stranger: Sherlock shook John's hand firmly, looking him in the eye as he did so. And then, at John's comment, he snorted a laugh. "I don't read comics either, so I'll take your word for it," he commented. Why was he laughing? That was strange. Why wasn't he rolling his eyes and snapping about the unrealistic drivel that passed for entertainment these days? "John Watson," he repeated in turn.
You: The laugh was infectious. Contrasting the boy's cool demeanor, it was warm and inviting and John laughed as well. "That's my name." and then he said with a wink, "Perhaps you're destined for greatness." He laughed again, and didn't care if the cafeteria was watching, or who was judging him. He'd possibly found a friend.
You: ((wanna time jump a bit?))
Stranger: ((sure, any point you have in mind?))
You: ((class a few days later? maybe sherlock is in one of john's? ))
Stranger: ((sure))
Stranger: Sherlock skipped classes often. He already knew anything useful any of them taught, and most of the staff was too busy or incompetent to force him to go. Not today, though. He had been enjoying a cigarette, leaning against the back wall of the school, and hadn't noticed the approach of one of the few teachers who bothered with him. So it was that he was dragged, literally, back into science; the teacher of the class looked a bit put-out and continued the lecture. Sherlock sulked to the back, his usual seat, and blinked in surprise to see John there. "Have you been in this class the whole time?" he asked.
You: "Yeah," John whispered in surprise. "You too? Wiggins doesn't read your name when she calls roll." He was secretly thrilled at the fact that after days of not seeing the boy, he and Sherlock were thrown in the same back row of their science class. "Aren't you younger than me?" He wanted to ask so many things. Where had he been? Was that tobacco he smelled? Why would a clever boy like him cut class? But he held his tongue and scribbled some notes, waiting for a reply.
Stranger: Sherlock made a pleasant "hmm" and settled into his seat as the lecture continued. "Probably she's given up on me ever showing up," Sherlock answered under his breath. "Wishful thinking on her part, as I let slip to the class that she's having an affair with two of the secretaries. I /wouldn't/ have come if I wasn't hauled in," Sherlock mumbled resentfully. "I am, by two years," he informed John. "This is the most advanced science they would let me in."
You: John whistled through his teeth, a skill he'd mastered as a kid. "The most advanced class? Two years?" he was amazed at the careless tone the boy spoke with. John wasn't dull, but he did struggle in Science and math. He was proficient in English and History-- these subjects were ruled by the feelings of people. He understood the words between the lines. It was graphing the lines he struggled with.
Stranger: Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "If there were any justice they would just let me take university science already, but apparently I'm not to be trusted doing anything that would take me off campus during the day. I already know all of this." He waved a hand in the direction of the teacher. "I'm also two years ahead in mathematics and French, which is absurd because I already speak fluent French."
You: "I'm eggs at mathematics," John blurted out. He turned pink at the term 'eggs'. It was a term he and his sister Harry used to say as children, back when their parents still gave them a swear jar. He lowered his voice. "Er, I mean I'm terrible. At science and maths."
Stranger: Sherlock frowned in confusion. "Is that something that people say? 'Eggs at mathematics?'" he asked John earnestly. "I've never heard that one before." He glanced over at John's science notes and made a face. "You really are terrible, you've missed the point of the lecture entirely." He took John's notebook and pencil and began to write corrections.
You: John went pinker, and tried to put on a confident smile. "Er, childhood term." He glanced down at his notebook, at the pale hand moving quickly across the paper. "What is it you're doing there?" "Oi! Quiet back there!" a voice shouted. John lowered his voice yet again. "What does CaCO3 stand for, anyway?"
Stranger: "Oh, just you and your brother, then," Sherlock said quietly as he worked. "I'm making a more understandable diagram for you. The way you have it is unnecessarily confusing, your chance of understanding this again later would have been even lower than it is already. There you go. CaCO3 is calcium carbonate, it reacts, among other things, with strong acids, heat, or water saturated with carbon dioxide..."
"I will give you detention if you keep talking, Mr. Holmes!" the teacher protested.
"Already have it," Sherlock said, nonchalantly waving a detention slip from his pocket. The class snickered, and the teacher returned to lecturing.
You: "Wow." was all John could think to say. To be that bold! He nodded in gratitude at Sherlock's diagram and scooted closer to him, sitting like that until the bell.
When the bell rang, he stood slowly. "Sherlock," he said quickly. "What class do you have next?" He gathered his notebooks slowly to calm himself and give Sherlock time to answer.
Stranger: Sherlock hadn't even bothered taking out a notebook for the class; he was ready to go nearly immediately, and if he got out fast enough he thought he might be able to skip the attempted lecture Ms. Wiggins had in store for him. Still, he stopped as John spoke. "Oh. I dunno, history, I think, something stupid. I was planning on going out to finish my cigarette instead."
You: John coughed nervously. "Er, those are bad for you." Gee. He was the king of obvious statements. Sherlock probably thought him stupid. "I have history too," he quickly said. "MacKen. Room 205? Not here from here. This is two-twenty-one."
You: *far
Stranger: Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Alert the presses, someone's figured out that cigarettes are unhealthy," he said sarcastically. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I won't be in your history class, I can't be bothered with history," Sherlock said, walking with John in the direction of Room 205. "Names and dates that have no bearing on anything relevant. I pass the exam each year and then delete everything."
You: John grinned. "Bugger. If I knew you better I'd be taking those cigarettes and throwing them out. Rubbish, those are." he paused. "Anyway, what do you mean by 'delete'?" He was nearly to class, and really wished Sherlock would join him. But if Sherlock wanted to sit outside like a bum and burn his lungs from the inside out, so be it. John was certainly in no position to stop him.
Stranger: "I was so rudely interrupted from finishing my last one, it's driving me mad, so hands off," Sherlock said, smirking in return. "Exactly what I said, delete. My brain is like a hard drive, it only makes sense to store things in there that really matters. What do I care what year Richard the Lionhearted did whatever he did?" He eyed the door to John's class. "You probably won't learn anything in there you don't already know."
You: "Hey, I rather like learning about History," John defended. He also looked at the door and said almost lovingly, "Winston Churchill was one of my favourites. And Christopher Isherwood. We're on about World War two right now. Isherwood was great. I love his writings. They speak to me."
He shook himself and grinned. "Stupid though, huh? History is a class on the passions of man. When you break all these events down, they're composed of selfishness, greed, love. We're driven by these things, it separates us from machinery."
Then he frowned. "Sorry..."
Stranger: Sherlock listened to John wax on about history, considering. There was something oddly endearing about John and his [woefully optimistic] view. "I've never read any of it," Sherlock said. "I'm behind in literature as well." He frowned slightly as John continued. "Humans are essentially machinery, John," Sherlock answered. "Predictable organisms ruled by chemistry, biology, psychology." He glanced between the classroom and the hallway leading outside. "You ought to get to class."
You: "I think I'll skip with you," John decided. "We'll have our own lesson while you smoke."
He turned on his heel and beckoned for Sherlock. "I'll show you the world through my eyes. I might be unobservant, but I'm empathetic, Sherlock, and I can feel your disconnection to feelings. I'll show you something cool. Come on."
He hoped his smile wasn't frightening; he felt that there was something hidden inside his new friend that needed great care.
Stranger: Sherlock smiled and followed after John. "I thought you'd say that," he said a bit smugly. The rest of what John said was almost completely lost on him, making very little sense, but the idea of skipping class /with/ someone appealed to him for some reason. "Where are we going?" he asked.
You: "I dunno," John replied, secretly pleased that Sherlock was content with his company. "I'd say home, but my aunt'd have my arse. But let's get out of here, anyhow." He grinned at Sherlock and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "I have rugby at four."
Stranger: "This way, then," Sherlock suggested, pulling ahead of John and leading him down a different hallway. "The way out of school that's least likely to be observed is through the back entrance this way." They arrived at a hidden spot between an outdoor supply closet and the school auditorium. From there, it was a straight shot to the edge of campus. Sherlock held John back briefly as he made sure they wouldn't be seen leaving. "We're clear," he said, a hint of triumph in his voice.
You: When Sherlock rested his arm against his chest, John breathed in sharply, feeling stupid. He wondered crossly why his breath had caught, and felt his neck grow warm. He was glad when Sherlock walked ahead of him, and he could look down.
After a while of walking, he cleared his throat and asked, "Where to?" He didn't quite know the area and wasn't keen on getting lost. Also, he couldn't miss rugby, right after making the A team.
You: ((hey do you have a tumblr?))
Stranger: ((yep, solar-powered-flashlight))
You: ((okay, i'm whoabama, i'll follow you so we could rp again later. i have to get off, but i liked rping with you! you're a splendid Sherlock.))

Hey Guys!
I'm all stoked, man. I am slowlting a new wardrobe. Piece by piece we're getting there. I look hot! Love you people!
follow me on tumblr reichenhall.tumblr.com
-Jasmine