Jeff the KillerJeff the Killer
This is what I see through eyes I can’t shut
And this very colour flows through each vein
Everyone looks the same inside, but
In their souls they are like me, we all cause pain
This is the natural state of the world
I hate the weak and prey on the strong
Every great plan fails before it is unfurled
I will see this through, I will kill every wrong
This is how things will be when I’m done
With no one left there will be no death
I only scare them because I've already won
My blade has a hypocrite as its sheathe
Hello peasants, and welcome to my page. Stand in awe of my....|
No wait, please don't go!
Oh gosh, please make me feel not-lonely!
Anyway, wonder why I'm here?
Well, I like to draw, and I want people to see my work. I know I still need to work on a lot, but I'm trying to give it my own style and improve. Constructive criticism is encouraged - don't be afraid to tell me if you think something is 'off,' 'wrong,' or needs work somehow. I will do my best not to kill you.
Things you should know:
I draw (duh).
I was/am heavily influenced by anime/manga style, especially the big, expressive eyes.
I'm also learning other styles and expanding on what I can do.
I'm not really a "great" artist just yet.
I consider myself to be still a 'noob' or a beginner in a lot of ways.
Patience isn't my strong point.
Not sure if I should add a stamp collection from all the fandoms I like.
Sex: Female, I think
Age: forever 15
Height: 5 foot a bitch
Weight: 3 potatoes
UPDATED General Info:
Sex: Probably girf
Age: Older than 1/3 of potential waifus
Weight: 6 potatoes
Requests: Well, I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but if you think I'm giving you a painstakingly-drawn piece of artwork for free, then you're smoking something that's probably illegal. Seriously, do not ask me for requests.
I once took a self-test to see if I really had pyromania. Here's the abridged version:
Do you like fire?
Do you like to watch fires?
Do you like to set things on fire?
Were you hugged enough as a child?
Um...well uh...maybe I...
Are you a loner?
Have you ever just felt plain awful?
ALL THE WAY!
Congratulations! You are a pyro! Now get help.
Did you know that the Irish created/invented/discovered:
The induction coil
The hollow needles used in hypodermic syringes
The Kelvin temperature scale
The concept of a boycott
The tattoo machine
The first time an atom was split via artificial means
Aircraft ejection seats
...and that most of them did it while drunk?
Here, have some controversy:
Remember, there is no such thing as "white culture". There is, however, Irish culture, Italian culture, English culture, Russian culture, German culture, Nordic culture, Romanian culture, Dutch culture, Swiss culture, Scottish culture, Welsh culture, French culture, Spanish culture...
I don't want to be a 'feminist'. I rather be 'egalitarian' - besides, it sounds like 'eagle-tarian'. It's just so...'Murican!
*Actually, the real reason is because sometimes, men get screwed over in some areas too. Men and women fall short in the "privilege" department in different ways, so why not work for both? After all, it's all about equality.
Person: This is my left hand *holds up right hand*
Other person: Um, no, that's not your left, it's your right.
Person: OMG I DON'T HAFF TA COMPLY TO YOUR STANDARDS OF WHAT'S LEFT AND WHAT'S RIGHT! I SAY DOWN IS LEFT AND UP IS DOWN AND LEFT IS RIGHT, AND IF YOU SAY I'M WRONG, YOU'RE A BIG, STUPID POOPY DOO-DOO BRAIN!
-The Internet on 'opinions'
The web is a dark place, full of shock sites, porn, and spoilers.
SNAPE KILLS DUMBLEDORE AND THEY ALL GET TURNED INTO TANG!
I'm a strong, independent women who don't need no feminism!
There is no such thing as reverse racism, because anyone can be racist to anyone.
When you take the time to make fun of your own culture, you are culturally appropriating an integral part of Irish culture. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go finish my drink.
Check your social justice blogger privilege!
I think there's no such thing as "SJW Privilege" (that just proves you have it)
I can draw attention to areas in which I am not privileged, while ignoring those areas in which I do have privilege (you are NOT telling me they're all black-pan-theta-chromosomal-but-mostly-female-disabled-autistic-otherkin-trans*:・ﾟ✧)
I can tell someone to "check their privilege" as a means of shutting down their argument
If someone disagrees with me, I need only to accuse them of belonging to some privileged group (white, cis, male, straight, etc.) to "prove" that I am right.
I can minimize the problems of an individual on the basis that they are more privileged than certain groups of people (never mind that seeing people who kind of look like you on TV doesn't help chronic depression).
I was seriously offended reading this list.
I can assume the person who wrote this list was a white cishet fedora neckbeard dudebro, without acknowledging that's still stereotyping.
I am now even more offended after reading the above statement.
I can completely disregard the facts because of hurt feelings.
It is my pejorative to get offended for other marginalized groups to which I do not belong, and should I find a member of such a group who takes no offense to a certain thing, I can claim they have internalized self-hatred (as opposed to simply their own opinion).
My feels are going haywire now.
I seek the blood of the person who wrote this list.
Inhale. Exhale. Did you just breathe? Smile, because you are alive and life is still worth living. There, you have existential privilege! ^_^
Stop. I could do this all day, but I have a paper to write, and I am sure you have something better to do yourself. Privilege-checking is the unhealthiest mental exercise there is - it divides people into "haves" and "have nots", and that just leads to Tall Poppy Syndrome. In other words, it breeds hate. Hate only breeds hate. Now ask yourself - "Does the homeless white guy on the street have more privilege than Oprah Winfrey and Temple Grandin?"
-->unhealthiest mental exercise<-- This line is so ableist! (If this was your actual thought process, then...Just stay away and you'll be safe from me~!)
You own a freaking computer, or at the very least, have Internet access.
We had been wandering around the forest until we came to a clearing – some sticklike shapes stuck up from the ground that looked like crosses. The moon was full, and it cast a pale, colorless light on everything – still it was hard to see, and sometimes what I thought was a giant arm grabbing at the sky turned out to be a knarled tree with jagged, twisted branches.
Basically, it was a perfect romantic getaway. I mean, I was holding Sebby’s hand for dear life, and he was squeezing just as hard. He was trying to act brave for me, but I could tell by the distinct lack of feeling in my hand from him holding it so hard that he was just as scared as me. We could at least hold each other when something was about to kill us.
“You okay?” he asked shakily.
“Mm-hm,” I nodded, “Sebse, I can’t feel my hand anymore,”
“Oh! I-I’m sorry!” he looked down, embarrassed.
“Nah, don’t be. I’m scared too,”
“I’m not…I’m not scared. I just don’t…okay, I’m scared. I’m terrified. I scare pretty easily, actually,”
“Heh, me too,” I laughed.
“Yeah, but I’m supposed to reassure you. I mean, I have combat skills, I’ve trained most of my life for situations like this, but it still…it still gets to me sometimes,”
“Aw, I know what you mean,” I put my arm around his shoulder.
We both heard a howling sound in the distance. Sebse pulled out a bootknife and got a stern look on his face.
“We’ve got to be careful,” he said. “We’re in the open right now, but I think if we get up in a tree or someplace high, we’ll at least cut our chances of being eaten,”
“Oh, okay, cut them,” I considered, “Yeah, that works. If ‘cut our chances’ is all we can do, I’m okay with that,”
There was a rustling from the ground.
“Sebse, you gonna be okay?” I asked as he started to creep a couple of steps away from me. Don’t leave me alone! I wanted to shout at him, but I trusted him, and at least figured he knew what he was doing. Well, hoped was more like it, but still.
Just then, he flailed around and hit the ground with a hard “Doof!” I couldn’t see him anymore.
“Sebse?” I whispered for him.
I tried looking in the place he fell, but couldn’t see anything. Or anyone.
“Sebse, are you okay?” I asked gingerly.
“Hello?” I called for him again, peering around the matted trees in the pail moonlight.
“M-Midori?” I heard a muffled reply.
Just then, something grabbed my shoulder. Thinking it was Sebse, I turned around to see the rotted face of a zombie.
“AAAAAUUUUGGGHHH!!!!!!!!” I screamed, falling backwards and scooching away. I thought for sure I was a goner, when –
Yes, someone punched the zombie’s head clean off. While actually yelling the word ‘PONCH’.
“HELLO THERE, TINY MAMMALIAN GIRL!” boomed the newcomer, a massive, hairy man who had what looked like the face of a wolf. Or kind of. Maybe it was just dark.
Too scared and confused to say anything, I looked around for Sebastian. I caught sight of a figure halfway up a tree getting pulled down by the jacket by zombies.
“What’s going on?” I gasped nervously.
“I’M BEATING THE UNDEAD CRAP OUT OF THESE ZOMBIES!”
“I HAVE PERSONALLY COMMISSIONED A NECROMANCER TO RAISE THE DEAD FROM THIS GRAVEYARD SO THAT I MAY DO BATTLE WITH THESE ZOMBIES.”
In response, he took a zombie by the head and with one hand, swung it around at a surrounding horde of more zombies, sending most of them flying in a big, stinky, decayed, dismembering frenzy.
This guy is insane, I thought to myself. It was hard to see in the light, but I swear, he looked like a big man-wolf. I think I was hallucinating.
“I gotcha!” I called back to Sebastian, running over to him, only to get stopped by a zombie that had grabbed my hair.
“DON’T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT MESSING WITH ANYONE ELSE, YOU UNDEAD BAG OF ROTTED BONES!”
“Th-thanks,” I said, still incredibly confused.
There were parts flying everywhere, as the insane wolf-man kicked, punched, karate-chopped, neck-snapped and just plain beat up the undead army that kept popping out of the ground. I wanted to stand there with my mouth hung open, but I was afraid of getting a dead guy’s finger in my mouth. I think even some of the zombies were confused.
“What’s going on?” I asked weakly, not expecting an answer. I didn’t get one.
“BRAIN-SQUASH!” he exclaimed, smashing the head of one poor zombie with his hands, sending gooey brain goo everywhere. Ew.
“Sebse?” I called weakly.
“Yeah, I’m here,” he said after he swung a tree branch at an attacking zombie.
“You have any idea what’s happening right now?” I asked.
“My guess is as good as yours,” he answered, gawking alongside me at the man-wolf guy beating up zombies. One of the zombies jumped up and bit him in the shoulder, but he easily threw it off, leaving its head still nomming into his skin. He just skewered the skull on one of the grave markers. He then hammer-fisted a group of about five undead in a half-circle, then plucked up a grave marker and used it as a baseball bat to whack their brains out with.
“YEAH, TAKE THIS, UNDEAD! AND THIS! AND SOME OF THIS!”
“Maybe we should run,” Sebastian suggested.
“Uh, yeah, I think you’re right,” I looked at the scene – it was just getting weirder.
“Hazel you fool!” somebody else yelled. I turned to see a tall, skinny man in a black cloak. I couldn’t make out his face, thanks to a hood he wore over his head.
“VALTOR, I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH – BODYSLAM! – FOR RAISING THIS ARMY OF UNDEAD FOR ME TO PUMMEL INTO DUST,”
“You IMBECILE! At this rate, you’ll only upset them more!”
“AW, COME ON, I’M HAVING THE TIME OF MY LIFE RIGHT NOW. THESE GUYS DON’T CARE, HALF THEIR BRAINS ARE ROTTING OUT OF THEIR SKULLS, YOU THINK THEY FEEL PAIN? SHORYUKEN!”
“That isn’t the point, Hazel,” the man in the black cloak said.
“Wait a minute,” I said, looking at the wolf-man sideways and finally speaking up, “Hazel? He’s Hazel?”
Suddenly the wolf guy stopped fighting and looked at me. “WHAT ABOUT IT? I CAN’T HELP THAT MY PARENTS WERE COMPLETE MORONS WITH A KNACK FOR TRADITION!”
“Tradition?” Sebastian asked, just as confused as me.
“YES, YES, MY FAMILY HAS A TRADITION THAT IS BASED ON THE OLGHAM ZODIAC,”
“OH FORGET IT!” he finally said.
“Well just…Hazel is not a boy’s name,” I pointed out, but immediately felt bad for, since he obviously was embarrassed about it.
“Can we please get back to the point?!” the man in the black cloak demanded.
“Uhh…” Sebby and I both said at once. The night had just slid into super-weirdness mode, and it would definitely not be the kind of night you sleep through. But at least it seemed we were sort of safe from zombies.
“Alright Hazel, I am going to rid this place of walking dead, do you hear me?”
“NO, WAIT, I WANT TO SHORYUKEN JUST ONE MORE –“
“Ugh, fine, you can shoryuken one more zombie. And then I am sending them back to their graves. There is a town near here, the people, will be in an uproar over this,”
“ALRIGHT! SHORYUKEN!” the man-wolf punched a zombie’s head clean off and sent it spinning up in the air…right before it landed right at my feet. I politely kicked it away, without screaming.
I'm lost guys. I can't think of what should happen next. But yes, I got inspiration from, of all things, too many Team Fortress comics (though I already had a werewolf character in mind, male, and named Hazel). Seriously, count how many shout-outs are in there.