#dropdeadsniper

[deadlyacademic-blog]

@dropdeadsniper

    Jim was...wasteful, really, when it came to money. He paid his employees exorbitantly, he bought only the most high-end clothing - even his plain clothes, like t-shirts and jumpers, we of the highest quality materials and either hand-made or designer, if not both. He did not know how to do things in moderation. On top of this, he was also fickle, and usually replaced things that he bought soon after he’d gotten used to owning it. The slightest loose stitch or stain would cause him to destroy an outfit and replace it with something twice as extravagant. 

Thus, here they were, Sebastian and Jim, in a high-end department store looking at furniture, because Jim had thrown a small fit the day before and stabbed a knife into the couch, and thus demanded they change all of the furniture, down to the most base decor. Sebastian was lucky, Jim thought, that the paint was a nice color, or they’d change that, too. “Oh, ‘Bastian, look,” Jim exclaimed loudly, purposely playing the part of an overeager househusband, the persona he’d chosen for the outing. He lifted a small, blood-red pillow, handing it over to Sebastian. “Red. We should do red.” 

[neverskydivingagain]

dropdeadsniper replied to your post “//I am having some serious technical issues over here…? Does anyone...”

it's not a thing :/

//that is terrible and awful. :( what is the best one otherwise?

[devil-in-designer]

The living room was in shambles; papers all over the floor, books of fairytales piled high, stale coffee mugs littering the tables, strings of thread inter-tangling like a web all around the room. And Jim knelt in the middle of it all scribbling what looked like a dozen complicated ciphers onto a portable whiteboard.

"Oh, hello darling. You're home early."

[daemonaraneae]

dropdeadsniper

 i heard jim is a whiney bottom tbh

"Whiney? No. Loud? Yes."

       "Now, darling, don't go spreading secrets."

[addicttheory]

will the real green grocer please stand up

[gunpowderandsteel]

dropdeadsniper

meme

Opinion on;

Character in general: Oh well obviously i can't stand the character i myself rp as or anything -- LET'S BE REAL HERE SEBASTIAN MORAN IS THE AIR I BREATHE MOST DAYSHow they play them: To be totally honest i haven't built up much of an opinion about their interpretation which i know is really sad since they're on my dash all the time but yeahThe Mun: Hey-o i don't know - again like... idk man, idk.

Do I:

RP with them: nooope.Want to RP with them: Sure yeah crack threads all over the darn place or like i have other blogs/characters if that'd be preferred

What is my;

Overall Opinion: Generally positive but unspecific!

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty

[ofsnipers]

nah that's fine bae, and like if they have a pete and it's a good seb and it's not directly ripping off my blog then i'm chill, but if they're actually ripping my seb off i'd get pretty pissed bc i'm already really attached, you feel? and my seb is similar in some aspects to others but also really different and there is just, i love him a lot you feel? so like if someone did make a pete sebastian i'd just squint really hard in their direction i wouldn't jump on their dick just ya feel? like if someone made a matt bomer sherlock child. just squints rly hard.

[ginnylestrade]

Drunk Nerds|| DropDeadSniper

Ginny sat, cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, sipping from the bottle. Right now it was just her and Seb, Jim had run off to grab something or other from his place and left them alone. 

Ginny eyed him as she took another sip and nearly choked. Coughing she frowned and put the bottle down. 

"Fuck."

[fakedpersona]

dropdeadsniper liked for a starter

                'Such a late hour to be coming by.'

[addicttheory]

dropdeadsniper

Somewhere in the back of his head, the teacher was telling them about balancing checkbooks or something equally pointless. Basics in Personal Finance, a course required by the school, and also the one not a single person bothered to pay the slightest attention to. Especially not when there were far more interesting things to contemplate.

The bell rang and a barely audible sigh escaped him as he slid his notebook into his bag, notes scribbled in the margins with lines connecting them. He'd let Jim look them over later, the other boy was absent and would be able to understand his penmanship.

Stopping at his locker, Sherlock was aware of someone standing over his shoulder.

[gunpowderandsteel]

3, 10, 26, 58, 66

3. What is your birthday?

March 18. It'll be a Wednesday next time around!

10. What shoe size are you?

Usually an 8 US. Depends on the shoe sometimes but usually, yeah.

26. Have you ever been famous?

Well I had a picture in a parenting magazine when I was about 4 that my mom sent in. And I was on public television once. (And I play music at local festivals now and then)

58. Do you have much of an ego?

I am both totally lacking in self-esteem and also kind of narcissistic. I don't know how that's possible.

66. Do you like long or short hair?

On me? Short. I had long hair until I was 18 and then I chopped it all off and I've never looked back.On other people it differs. Usually long-ish hair but not l o n g hair, if that makes sense

thank you for the questionnnns.

[ofsnipers]

dropdeadsniper

            listen, mate, i don't want whatever             you're sellin' so go the fuck away.

[ginnylestrade]

Secondary Never Ends|| Daemonaraneae and DropDeadSniper

Ginny sat at the entrance of the science building, her arms wrapped around her books as she leaned against the wall waiting for Seb and Jim. 

Her mouth was set in a hard line and her shoulders were tense as she watched the doors. 

"Fucking bloody twat hell." she mumbled between her teeth, the string of curses made no sense but it helped her feel better. Another day another dumb fourteen year old asking her about Seb or Jim or the both of them and damn if that didn't irritate her more than literally anything else on the planet. 

[fakedpersona]

dropdeadsniper

[ Tsk. He can't be here if    it's something good.]

          'Has something gone wrong?'

[mortalhallucination]

dropdeadsniper started following you

ooc;

Ayee

[daemonaraneae]

00:00:00

in a universe where everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to when they’ll meet their soulmate, send me 00:00:00 for my muse's reaction to their numbers hitting zero when they meet yours.

The bell rang signalling that class would be starting soon. Six minutes to get to Chemistry and find a seat where no one would bother him. Starting secondary was troublesome enough, he didn't want to have to deal with people on the first day too.

Adjusting his jacket, he didn't catch sight of the timer, which showed precariously small numbers, a precursor to the event to come. With a swift check of his book bag, he closed his locker and rushed off, remembering the route he'd drawn out on the map earlier.

When he got to the lab room, he found an empty table, settling in the left chair. If there was one thing he'd like about this class, it was that it was designed without right handed people specifically in mind, a table wouldn't impede his writing in the same way a desk would. Placing his notebooks on the table, he took off his jacket, slinging it across the chair, and began to scribble in the margins of his notebook, numbers and equations in fluid scrawl.

The bell rang, rousing Jim from his work and he smiled to himself, no one had sat beside him, all of the other people in the class finding either their friends or another empty table in search of solitude. He preferred it this way, working alone was his strong point, after all. Sitting up, he ran a hand through his hair, and simultaneously saw the time on his wrist, blinking in bright red.

                00:01:37

Brown eyes widened as he looked around warily, it couldn't be anyone in the room, he remembered most of them from grammar school, and the rest didn't look obligated to introduce themselves anytime soon. Was it a fluke?

Just as the teacher began to speak, the door opened and a lanky boy tumbled in, panting and clutching his books to his chest.

            "Sorry, couldn't find the classroom!"

The teacher sighed, telling the boy to find a desk quickly and quietly, he hadn't missed anything yet and class was just starting. And with the counter still going down, down, down on his wrist, Jim knew exactly where he'd be sitting down.

Swallowing with a suddenly dry mouth, Jim swiftly placed his hands under the table. If the other boy didn't see the number maybe he wouldn't say anything, maybe he wouldn't notice his own numbers counting down.

The sound of the other lab stool being pulled back caused Jim to look up from the surface of the table, a shy half-smile half-grimace on his face as he turned to the boy who probably had at least half a foot on him. And when he did, a throb of hot pain shot through his wrist, causing him to bite his lip to keep from wincing. Nope, it wasn't just going to go ignored.

            "M'name's Jim...                   S'nice to.... meet you."