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About Digital Art / Hobbyist BrianMale/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
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Variety is the spice of life. I draw all kinds of stuff, and the occasional photo manipulation. So feel free to browse through!

Comments are greatly appreciated! Thank you! :)



:iconsomelol: :iconc0bra5t0rm: :iconwheelzzz: :iconjeanlucmartinmmxv: :icongoddessofmischief123: :icondunkillyou: :iconvioletkingdom: :iconbloodedthorn: :iconimagineye: :iconfishinapredicament23: :iconnidarichards: :iconaxelofart: :iconlol-ud: :iconmonochromey: :icondino12345610: :iconmgroenke47: :icona-7713:


Artist | Hobbyist | Digital Art
United States
I started out doing simple photomanipulations, but have moved on into digital drawings.

Favourite genre of music: Rock
Favourite photographer: Hubble Space Telescope
Favourite style of art: Looney Tunes
Operating System: windows (I'm a PC, I admit it)
MP3 player of choice: iPod
Favourite cartoon character: Waffles from Catscratch
Personal Quote: There's always a bigger bomb...
Finally back home. Missed my mom's birthday, my brother's birthday, my OWN birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas. I cant wait until I move to my next job next year, so I'm not gone half the year.

In other news, Now that I'm back, I have a bunch of drawings that I started while I was gone and will be finishing up and posting soon. Hurrah for finally having real free time!
  • Mood: Tired
  • Listening to: Black Sails Theme Song
  • Reading: Futuristic Violence and Fancy Suits
  • Watching: Nothing
  • Playing: Evolve
  • Eating: Nadda
  • Drinking: Watta


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   AS-9 stirred from sleep mode as someone tripped the sensor leading into the lobby of the health clinic. AS-9 the secretary/security automaton, or Asinine as he was occasionally called by the human staff, readied himself to aid the approaching customer. Even before the person entered the view of his optical devices, the building’s sensors began sending him information so as to speed up any necessary aid and responses. However, there must have been something wrong, for the readouts he was receiving caused his logic circuits to begin humming as they repeatedly reran the data thousands of times a second. The approaching human was female, approximately 25 standard-earth years old, 5 foot 9 inches, and weighed almost 250 pounds, though the figure that was just now entering visual range did not fit the profile of a human weighing that amount. Her heartbeat was steady, almost impossibly so, as was her breathing. But confounding his program was the utter lack of other data that should have informed him of digestive, heart, blood, or even sexual conditions. AS-9 could now see that the female had a synthetic left eye and auditory device, the latter barely visible under her wild black hair. His facial recognition software did not bring up any results listing her as a previous customer, and told him she was in a foul mood. She was wearing a large, brown cloak that was at odds with the temperature outside; 105 degrees Fahrenheit with 90 percent humidity should have been uncomfortable for most humans.

   “Greeting, human, and welcome to Quick-Fix! I am AS-9, how may I be-“ He cut himself off as the woman produced a large brown bottle and took a swig of it; olfactory receptors reported that the liquid contained was an extremely potent alcoholic beverage. Despite all the recorded negative effects of alcohol consumption, (he had over 135,000,000 articles and medical papers on record describing the myriad pros, cons, and side effects), why would this human be consuming such a thing? His healthcare programing kicked in, overriding his secretary protocol. “Ma’am, I request to inform you that the beverage you are drinking has an alcohol rating of 100 proof, and has many documented negative effects on your health. I strongly recommend you cease consumption. I can schedule you for a cleansing session and a cessation program if you desire.”

    “Shut it, Tin Can.” The woman growled. “I don’t drink this crap for fun, and I don’t need advice from a bipedal computer.” She took one last swig from the bottle before capping it and placing it in one of the large pockets of her cloak.

    “Very well.” AS-9 replied. He began a secondary scan of the woman, attempting to find a reason for her unpleasant demeanor and lack of vital signs, when the woman suddenly lashed out with a fist, rocking his head as if it had been hit with a sledgehammer, even denting the metal casing of the side of silver skull. He immediately scanned her and found no broken bones from the blow, despite the impact force easily surpassing the strength of bone. In fact, his scanner was having a hard time finding ANY bones. His scan was interrupted by yet another blow, this one dislodging one of his optical sensor.

    “Hey, Shiny Boy, if I want you to scan me, I’ll ask for it, okay?” The woman shouted, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him.

    “You knew?...My apologies, ma’am.” AS-9 said softly, trying to sooth the violent human before him. If his masters hadn’t disabled his security programing, he would be calling the authorities and restraining this individual with lightning speed and precision. As it was, he was forced to concede to her demands, shutting down his scanning programs. “As you wish. Now, what may I do to help you?”

    “Is Dr. Matthews in? I need to see him.” The mysterious woman said, releasing him and brushing off her sleeves with gloved hands. “And no, I don’t have an appointment. Its…urgent.” She adds, cutting off that exact question from AS-9’s vocalizer.

    “Yes he is. One moment, ma’am.” He answered, opening up a comms channel to the Doctor’s office.

    “Hello, AS-9. What can I do for you?” Came the doctor’s calm and even toned voice.

    “There is a woman here asking to see you. She is very violent.” AS-9 reported, glancing in her direction with his remaining optical device.

    “I heard that.” The woman grumbled, once again stunning him. How can she hear the secured conversation channel?

    “Oh good lord. Very well, send her to my office. Don’t worry, I know her.” Dr. Mathews answered before hanging up. AS-9 turned to relay this to the woman, but she was already heading down the hallway.

    “What an unpleasant character.” He mused before returning to low power mode.


    Dr. Andre Mathews quickly cleared the piles of paperwork from his observation table, making space for the thundercloud heading his way. Of all his patients, this particular one was the most trouble, and in all honesty he would rather not have to deal with her. But he was obligated to by contract, and he was really the only one qualified to work with her. The door to his combined examination room and office slid open with a hiss of hydraulics, allowing the cloaked female to enter before closing behind her.

    “Hello, Amelia. How have you been?” He asked her, trying to be amicable. He knew of her well-deserved reputation all too well, and knew that it wasn’t entirely her fault.

    “Not much better than normal.” Amelia replied gravely. “But that is hardly a surprise anymore.” She walked over to the examination bench, peeling off her weather-worn cloak and letting the garment drop to the floor. Normally, this would have been an uncomfortable situation, a woman just walking into his office and stripping. But Amelia was anything but ordinary; from the bottom of her ribs down was a skeletal cybernetic body, resembling humanity only in function rather than form. Her arms were also both cybernetic from the shoulders on, and she gazed at him expectantly with her one good eye and one mechanical one. The only actual clothing she wore was a metal bikini top-type garment. What remained of her original body was heavily scarred, and those scars extended to her mental state. Being literally blown to pieces in the line of duty, pieced back together, then basically discarded tends to do that.

    “So, what is the issue now?” Andre asked, looking her body over. As the only doctor with extensive Cybernetic experience on the planet, he was the most qualified to work not only on her organic body but her artificial one as well. Didn’t help that the planetary governor paid him handsomely to be her caretaker. After waiting for Amelia’s nod of approval, he plugged a cable into a slot at the base of her skull and began a diagnostic inspection of her internal systems.
    “My left arm keeps shorting out on me. I get shocked every once in a while, and sometime I lose control of it.” She stated, looking at the offending limb with distaste. Andre gently pressed on the release studs and disconnected the arm from its socket, looking inside. He sighed before open up a drawer and pulling out some wipes and water repellent compound.

    “How many times do I have to tell you, don’t take showers or baths? You are water resistant, not water proof.” He sighed as he begins cleaning the electrical connections inside her arm socket.

    “Excuse me for trying to do one of the few remaining human things I can.” Amelia unhappily grumbles. She pulled out a large brown bottle from her coat pocket and took a large swig. Seeing this, Andre quickly snatched it from her, drawing an indignant “Hey!”

    “100 proof? Why do you drink this stuff? You do know that pure alcohol works better for your energy system.” He frowned, reading the label. “And it comes with the added bonus of not making you look like a drunk bum.”

    “Maybe I’d rather be a drunken bum than an alcohol powered technological freak? Ever think of that?” Amelia retorted. “Besides, I don’t even have a liver to ruin. I can’t even enjoy getting drunk!”

    “I’m no psychologist, but even I can tell you that’s unhealthy thinking.” Andre said, reaching over and pushing the release studs for her remaining arm, causing it to drop limply to the table. Before she can utter a word, he shushed her. “Relax. I’m going to check all your connections for water intrusion.” In reality, he mostly just wanted to stop her from drinking or doing anything else…rash. The cyborg just mumbled a curse and settled down, armless for the moment. Andre set about checking all her various components and systems, from her eye and ears to her limbs and coding. “Well, aside from the water intrusion, everything looks good. I still strongly recommend you stop drinking this hard liquor and switch to pure alcohol. It won’t gum up your system as much.”

    “But it has no taste!” Amelia complained, flexing her reattached limbs. “I can’t even eat, so at least give me this.” Andre sighed and rubbed his temple in exasperation. Amelia was by far the most heavily rebuilt person he had ever dealt with, so all this was still a bit of a learning experience for himself as well. He sat down to her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

    “Look, I know all this is difficult for you. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not in worse shape. But the path you are on right now, I’ve seen it many time over.” Andre said, trying to sound wise and comforting. “You may have few biological functions left, but you should treasure what you still have, rather than what you lost.”
    “Oh sure, I really appreciate the fact that I can’t eat anything, or take a dump, or even have sex!” Amelia muttered, waving a hand in the empty cavity where her organs should have been for emphasis. “The damn Governor couldn’t even be bothered to give me body parts that look slightly human. After I took a bomb for him, the bastard.” The cable still attached to her skull was showing spiking adrenaline levels as she got more heated. “He couldn’t just fix me up and let me retire, or even let me die. No, he had to turn me into a mechanical monstrosity and make me his personal cleaner and blasted trashman!” Her right hand split open and her arm peeled away to reveal a rapidly powering-up plasma caster. Andre quickly tapped a command into his tablet, making the computer system in her brain counteract the emotions welling up inside her, quickly bringing her back down, the plasma caster receding into her arm. “I hate that you can do that to. It’s not fair.” She sighed softly as her emotions were numbed, tears welling up in her remaining eye.

    “Hey, it’s okay. You are fine.” Andre said softly, patting her shoulder softly, the metallic ‘clunk’ of the metal punctuating the gesture. “At some point, he will let you go. Your contract will end, and you’ll be off the hook.”

    “I-I don’t know.” Amelia sniffled, wiping her tears away. “If working for the Governor has taught me anything, he hates loose ends. I honestly don’t know why I continue. What hope does someone like me have in the world? Cyborgs are already frowned upon, and that’s just people with synthetic hands or eyes and stuff, not like…me…” Andre felt his heartstrings tugging, this unforeseen emotional display catching him off-guard. Amelia had been a stone-faced, serious woman even before the attack, he remembered seeing her standing behind the Governor on Telecasters, grim faced and unmoving. He should have really considered the fact that behind that stoic face was a real human being, but it just hadn’t really registered until now. He started trying to formulate more comforting words when Amelia abruptly stood, unplugged the diagnostic cable and gathered her cloak and bottle of liquor.

    “Look, Doc, thanks for the help. I really appreciate it.” Amelia stated tonelessly, the grumpy persona taking over once again. “I gotta go though. The Governor has someone he wants taken care of, if you get my drift.” With one last wave, she stalked out of the room and left the building. Andre watched her leave on the security cameras, before scrubbing all records of her from the system’s memory.

    “AS-9?” he called into the comm channel to the front desk.

    “How may I be of service, Dr. Mathews?” Came the dutiful reply.

    “Delete all records of patient #7639 from your system, override command ‘Juniper Cause’.”

    “Of course, Doctor. Command recognized, records deleted.”

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    Field Overseer Tou’an strode down the polished metal hallway of the Collective troop transport ship, talons clacking loudly with each step. He clicked his hooked beak in irritation as he read through the update sent from Fleet Commander Malvern, listing the rather drastic change in circumstances discovered on the target planet for the Orion Collective’s latest conquest.

    “How?! How have they advanced so far so fast?!” He grumbled, the red and orange colored crest of feathers on his head flaring through the opening in his helmet. He threw an angry glare at his aid, the Koultiss female Bai. He trusted her and her kind no further than the tip of their serpentine bodies, but her intellect and insight had proven invaluable before. The Koultiss race’s dedication to the Collective had often been called into question, but this was no time for traitor hunting. “We’ve been training for a species armed with single shot projectile weapons at the most. Yet Malvern is telling me that they are now nearly as advanced as us?”

    “Esteemed Overseer, this particular species appears to be very…adaptable.” Bai soothed, her smooth, sultry voice sending shivers through Tou’ans feathers and hiding just a hint of contempt. Her long blue-scaled reptilian body slithered along beside him, Tou’an’s pace forcing her to move faster than she really would have preferred. “From all the reports I have received, as well as my own…sources, they refer to themselves as Humans, though they have nearly uncountable secondary terms for themselves describing different tribes and sects.” She reached a slender arm over to Tou’an’s holographic tablet and with the flick of a finger pulled up a new page. “They appear to have gotten a large technological boost when they were invaded by the Race. I’m honestly slightly surprised that the Race was unable to conquer them. The Race has a fairly impressive track record.”

    “Wait. You’ve know about the Race?” Tou’an interrupted, stopping abruptly and staring at Bai intently with his vivid yellow eyes. “We have no record of them until this point. No contacts, no signals intercepted, nothing! How do you know of them?”

    “Oh, is that the impression you got? My apologies, Esteemed Overseer. It was merely…informed conjecture.” Bai deflected the question, casting her pure black eyes down to the deck in a show of submission. “In any case, from the files extracted from human and Race computers, it is speculated that humanity was able to hold off the Race successfully because of their tenacity, ingenuity, and adaptability. They reverse engineered most of the Race’s technology and was within a few years reproducing or even improving them.”

    “So, we face an enemy with the physical strength of the Uem, technical prowess nearly matching our own, with the fighting capability matching the Ursinians or Jybars.” Tou’an mused to himself. He clacked his beak in his species’ semblance of a laugh and clenched a clawed hand into a fist. “Good. Excellent!” he growled. “Here I thought it would be an easy conquest, hardly worth the glory earned from the combat. But now…” The Avian Fra’ren Overseer and Bai stepped out onto an observation balcony overlooking the cavernous assembly area, the portion of the ship where the Collective’s military might was now gathering in preparation for the invasion. Jybar infantry pods where forming up, several sparring sessions visible as the reptilian brutes vented excess aggression and anticipation. Divisions of Othior Plasma Onagers hovered into position, the electric rainbow colors of stored energy coalescing along the projector spines. Uem support teams scurried about, performing last minute checks on equipment and vehicles and trying to avoid the ire of the soldiers around them. Tou’an clacked his beak happily once again as he watched the potential violence of the forces at his command mustering bellow. He turned and gave Bai a hardy slap on her slender shoulder, a look of hate flashing across her face but quickly disappearing behind her usual smug but helpful expression as she rubbed the impact spot.

    “Tell Fleet Commander Malvern that we are ready for deployment, and awaiting a clear landing zone. Oh, and tell her to save some targets for us.”

    Raast watched the Big Uglies scurrying about, the soldiers he had been training with yelling at each other loudly and quickly dressing in their combat gear. Raast’s eyes swiveled about watching the blur of activity with a dual sense of dread and envy; he wished that his own people were as well versed in battle, but secretly knew that by the time the Race matched what he saw before him, Humanity would be far ahead of them still. He had been placed in cold sleep after the Nazi’s were defeated, so that some Race male’s with combat experience were still around if they were needed. He had been unfrozen 2 of Tosev 3’s rotations ago and sent here to Fort Benning to train with the Big Uglies as part of an exchange program. It had been hard, the prejudice formed from fighting them so many rotations ago still edging on his mind; he didn’t dare call them Big Uglies to their face for fear of retaliation, but the term still remained to him personally. At least the location of the Big Uglies’ military fort was in a relatively agreeable climate, warm but usually slightly too wet for his taste. Watching how quickly the human soldiers prepared for combat only served to lower his own hopes that the Race would someday still triumph and tame these wild beings, bringing them under the truth that was the Emperor. He instinctively lowered his eyes at the thought of the divine Emperors, quietly asking for the strength to continue. The human superior he served, a Sergeant Hernandez originating from the not-empire of Mexico, saw this and let out a barking Tosevite laugh, the sound grating on Raast’s ears. Apparently the human was better at reading his body language than Raast was of human emotion and expressions.

    “Don’t worry, Abuelo, I’m sure the benevolent spirit of the emperor will watch over you.” Sergeant Hernandez said, using a term he had been told referenced the fact that technically he was almost 60 Tosev years old, his voice still tinged with laughter. “I mean, these new extranjeros have only destroyed a few dozen cities.” It must have been apparent that Raast didn’t understand the joke, for Sergeant Hernandez rolled his eyes. “I mean that they must think that we will give up after losing a few cities, yet here we are, the full might of the United States Military still ready to fight.”

    “Yes, I suppose that is true, Squad Superior.” Raast muttered, secretly horrified at the similarities of this new brewing war to the one he had fought in. Humanity had a maddening capability of disregarding logic, which had caused endless grief in the previous colonization attempt. These egg-addled humans dedicated their lives to fighting, perpetuating an endless cycle of violence that made them terrifyingly difficult to fight. He gripped his issued Tosevite weapon, a carbine not all that dissimilar to ones used by the Race. Part of this exchange program with the Human military was that he use their equipment, so he now wielded a human designed carbine, ballistic armor tailored to his smaller frame, and accompanying ammo and supplies. Deep in his core, he could almost feel the spirits of the Emperor’s casting their benevolent gaze away from him, just for using such items.

    “Alright, listen up, pendejos!” Sergeant Hernandez called out over the din of the other soldiers. “Us American Badasses have got a job today! Looks like the heavens have seen fit to drop more extraterrestrial deadbeats on us, looking for a home other than their own scum lands.” He looked around at the weathered faces of veterans and the eager faces of the new recruits gathered before him, the intense passion in his voice starting to infect Raast’s own emotions, feeling his heart to start beat faster. “Well, have we got news for them. No vacancies, perras! Earth is full already!” The gathered soldiers all roared with laughter and shouts of approval, some of the terms being thrown about were outside of Raast’s English vocabulary, but the meanings behind them were easily guessable. “Word is that they got ships lining up to start burnin’ through the clouds, heading here to the good ol’ land of the free, home of the brave. Are we gonna let them set up camp?”

“HELL NO!” came the resounding reply.

“We gonna let them burn our cities, kill our loved ones, destroy all we’ve built?”


    “Damn right!” Sergeant Hernandez grinned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’d hate to be those poor alien culos when the goddamn US Army shows up!”
    I only hope it is that easy. Raast thought to himself, only slightly optimistic.
World War: Assimilation Chapter 2
Chapter 2 in the fanfic continuation of Harry Turtledove's World War series.

I'm working on this with fellow Sci-Fi and Alternate History enthusiast :iconbeetlelion12:. Go check him out!

Chapter 1:
Cyborg Girl by BlastShieldBuddy
Cyborg Girl
Figure doodle and lighting practice. I really like how she turned out. I mean, who doesn't love a mostly robotic girl with a laser arm?

Edit: Wrote a short story about her.
   He tried to call out a warning, but they couldn’t hear him over the deafening roar of combat. One of them happened to glance over his shoulder and saw the rapidly approaching projectile; a dumbfounded look crossed his face, right before the azure bomb impacted with a crackle and a solid “whoomph.”  The blast of light seared Michaels eyes, and the resulting shockwave tossed him and his team to the ground like toys. Shaking and disoriented, Michael got to his feet and looked at where second team had been, knowing and dreading what he would likely see but doing so anyway. A giant slag pile was all that remained of the second team’s position, and a burnt patch of grass. Amazingly, one soldier had lived; he got to his knees, almost unrecognizable as human from all the burns that covered his body.
   The soldiers with Michael sprang from their cover and ran to their wounded team mate. Mere moments after leaving cover, a young corporal was hit multiple times by spikes, turning him into a pin cushion and dropping him to the ground without a sound. Another stopped to try and help, but he too was hit, and left screaming on the ground by his prone partner. The remaining soldiers made it to the lone survivor of second team, and began trying to cover him in gauze from the med kits, and even pieces of their own uniforms.  Shaking off the shock of having lost almost all his men in such a small time frame, Michael ran out from his cover to help the other wounded soldier on the ground, blindly firing his rifle in the alien’s general direction in the hopes of keeping their heads down. He was almost there when something smacked into his left shoulder and spun him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, knocking the wind out of him for the umpteenth time that day. He gulped in lungfulls of air to regain his breath, and looked at his shoulder. A spike was imbedded in the meat of his shoulder, with only a little nub of it showing through his uniform, blood slowly trickling from the wound. He observed that it looked different that the spikes he had seen others hit with; rather than straight black, he could see a small green light on the tip, and it had what appeared to be a set of stabilizing wings.
    Putting his thoughts aside, he began crawling to the soldier injured during the dash across the open. His arm didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t use it, the limb completely numb from the shoulder down. He made it to the wounded man, who was sobbing and clutching his belly, several of the large metal spike protruding from the wounds. Michael was trying to get at his first-aid kit, but found himself feeling oddly tired and slow, his motions becoming more and more sluggish until he had a hard time keeping his eyes open. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the sky; it had suddenly become oddly quiet and at first he thought that he had finally lost all hearing. But he could still hear the soldier next to him whimpering softly. Michael finally realized that all fighting had stopped in the area had stopped; there was no firing, explosions, or roaring jet engines, or hardly any voices other than the wounded moans of the soldier next to him. Fighting through the haze that seemed to be clouding everything, he managed to get his well-worn .45 cal handgun out of its holster; whatever was happening, he would be ready. Soon the light of the sun and nearby fires was blocked out by someone standing over him, and Michael struggled to raise his head and see who was there. He was startled to be looking up at an alien soldier, the oddly small, gleaming barrel of its weapon pointing down at him. He tried to raise his weapon at it, but found that he couldn’t.
    So, this is how it ends. He thought. I go out with a whimper, unable to resist. The alien bent down and examined the spike in his shoulder, cocking his helmet to the side, almost like a dog. It then stood back up and put a finger to the side of its helmet, apparently talking on a radio. It suddenly stiffened to attention and stepped off to the side, much like he himself would have if a superior were approaching. Once again struggling against his own body’s desire to remain motionless, Michael lifted his head to see what was prolonging his misery.  A tall alien was walking toward him, flanked by several alien and human soldiers. He had only seen a handful of the invading beings, and all of them were clad in full body armor with no exposed skin, but the significantly taller alien appeared to be a female, and wore a strange armor-robe combination that revealed sections of its dark grey skin which was covered in swirling black patterns. Overall, she resembled some kind of lizard with no scales, with a very short snout. Her eyes were a striking purple color, with slit shaped pupils, there were several short horns protruding from the back of her head, and there was a white, four fingered handprint on her face. She gestured towards the human soldiers which he could now see were medics, and they rushed over to him and the other wounded soldier. He struggled momentarily, believing that they were all being taken prisoner. But then he remembered the Bradley crewman saying that command had been trying to call for a cease fire; they must have succeeded! He then let the medics look him over, figuring he might as well make the most of this development. One reached for the spike in his shoulder, but stopped when the female leaned over put a hand on the man’s shoulder. The medic moved aside with a muttered complaint as she knelt down to him, her legs bending oddly to do so. He stared at her as she spoke in perfect, completely accent-less English. He blacked out afterwards, losing his struggle against shock and exhaustion.
    “You may think that fate has cast you a poor hand this day, human. But the truth is that your fate depends on what you do with the cards. I look forward to seeing what you chose.”
Ambassador Xenos Part 4
I had completely forgotten I had this on my computer. I uploaded the last part of this 4 years ago!

Personally, this is a little weird to read, considering it has been untouched for so long and I (hopefully) have improved as a writer from this.

Part 1:
Part 2:
Part 3:

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Add a Comment:
JeanLucMartinMMXV Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the fav!
BlastShieldBuddy Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
No problem! What were you doing in that area of the world?

Also, thanks for watching me! :thumbsup:
JeanLucMartinMMXV Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
I'm in the ARMY.
BlastShieldBuddy Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Well, thank you for your service, it's greatly appreciated!
(1 Reply)
VioletKingdom Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Student General Artist
LOADING... ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 99%................................ ERROR! It is impossible to delete our friendship. You mean so much to me!
[Post this to 10 people's walls who you never want to lose. If you get 3 back, you're an amazing friend
bloodedthorn Featured By Owner Jul 23, 2014
LOADING... ▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 99%................................ ERROR! It is impossible to delete our friendship. You mean so much to me!
[Post this to 10 people's walls who you never want to lose. If you get 3 back, you're an amazing friend
BlastShieldBuddy Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Okay holy crap that freaked me out when I read the first part. Btw we really need to play tf2 again.
bloodedthorn Featured By Owner Jul 25, 2014
Yes we do, and don't worry, freaked me out too XD
VioletKingdom Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2013  Student General Artist
Tag a quality deviant, you’re it! Quality doesn’t mean that you have a lot of followers or a lot of messages. It means that you’re nice to other people, and you deserve to be happy. If you get this message, someone is telling you that they love you as you are, and they don’t care how many followers you have. Send this to 10 deviants who deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen. But it’s just good to let someone know that you love them! ♥
AxelOfArt Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2013  Professional General Artist
Give ♥ This♥ To ♥ The ♥ Twelve ♥ Nicest ♥ People ♥ You ♥ Know ♥ If ♥ You ♥ Get ♥ Five ♥ Back ♥ You ♥ Must ♥ Be ♥ Perfect
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