#holy goodness that's a lot of tags

[bluismie]

“Even the sinners dream”

[clefadrylcorner]

Obsessed with lovers and piners calling the object of their affections their best friend. Like yessss blur the lines between platonic and romantic love. show how important they are to you in a multifaceted way. Cover up your feelings with another kind of love that is just as true. One type of love does not negate the other and but tragedy can rip both out from under you single handedly, and it will hurt so much more that way. Losing a friend and a lover. Gaining both and not needing any labels for what they are. Using labels but having it be so much more than a title. Were they friends before they were lovers? Or were they lovers whose friendship grew inside of their love? Unclear! Who cares!

[4525yaoi]

au part dos

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys what is this book and what is the Bill on it? All I know is gay shapes-

A. Sphere: I'm not calling you "Good Boy" A. Square, that court case was SHIT.

Me earlier: Wow! The Book of Bill just came out, that's cool ig.

Everyone recently: *being super active in the tag, watching the movies, relogging and liking my art*

Me: *me carrying some small doodles over* WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE???

Thanks for bringing me back to brainrot by spam-liking all my old posts guys I forgive none of you (/J I LOVE YOU ALL)

More stuff below cut (BE WARNED NEW FLAT-PEOPLE SOME OF IT IS LOWKEY SPOILERY):

A. Square and A. Faux Line: Damn, that circle kinda a hottie- ...

I had this silly idea after my 29374th time watching Flatland that a majority of the first part of the movie is just A. Sphere watching all the shit go down like the worst telenovela you've ever seen. Also, that A. Line was originally going to be the apostle, but... uh... she can't really do that anymore, so he banks all his money on A. Square.

Also, I thought it would be super funny of A. Square and A. Faux Line both crushed on A. Sphere when he first showed up lol. Crazy smooth priest spawns and everyone swoons.

Older Hex doodles too. I love Hex, they're such a real one the whole time. With all the faults of Sphereland, I do like Hex maining in that one. But I also like picking and choosing which things I take as canon in my own work, so you get young adult Hex with their totally not-romantically-involved-with-at-all partner Punto (P. Octagon).

It's been a bit since Flatland happened in this hypothetical, so A. Square's still around. He's trying to be supportive of his masc-nonbinary kid who likes kissing boys, but still has to be annoying with dad jokes and the occasional backhanded compliment. He means well tho.

A. Tesseract: Hello A. Square!

A. TESSERACT OH HOW I'VE MISSED YOU POOKIE <3333. She's probably one of my most favorite ocs I've made (and the one that gets the most art <3) She's also the one I feel the least awkward about shoving into the source material lol. I yearn to work on A Heightlander's Escape again, but we'll see.

I just wanted to draw something cute between her and A. Square. She may or may not be the voice at the end of the movie hmmmmmmmm.

At least A. Square would end up in good hands.

"There is always something beyond. There is always INFINITY."

Just a little doodle of smth I may or may not render cuz I really like how it looks. There is always something greater after all.

Thank you all for the recent support on those old-ish drawing, y'all made my week tbh. I have a new AU cooking for this so look forward to that lol. Have a good one :)))

[sea-jello]

hong kong miku,,,

[spookythesillyfella]

here's an assortment of tsp doodles ive made on magma together with my wonderful older brother @chamom1le-t3a ^_^

+ an extra doodle of me nd hv tony for funsies under cut

happy pride . fruit bat 💌💌🌈🌈

[idkaguyorsomething]

Best companion does not necessarily mean they have to get along with the Doctor the most, challenging each other in interesting ways could also count.

Explain in the tags who you voted for, with which incarnation, and why!!

[ex0rin]

Frank Grillo | Fightworld Thailand: Fortunate Son

[kkolg]

Look who made their boyfriend a fursonaaaaaaaa

meeeeeeeeee

[spockandawe]

Hello! I've been kind of vanished, and I'm not confident I'm fully back yet, but I'm feeling noticeably less frazzled, and I'm ready to start catching up on the backlog of what I've been doing! To start with, I went mad with my new homeowner power and decided to paint a room. And then I decided to paint it a WILD color. And then I decided I also wanted to learn how to panel a wall. All by myself, with a hard deadline before my aunt gifted me a pile of old furniture that was going to take the room from empty to full. It was very cool and fun, but oh my god

Also, most of the paint work quality in my home is uhhhhh indifferent, so i had some fun soeed bumps like having to cut an old mirror off the back of my door and finding at least two color strata of it being painted into place (even after filling and sanding and priming and painting, i can still see the shadow, but that's a problem for future me to continue addressing). And I picked a REALLY dark green. I knew that taking a dark color back to white would need a lot of coats, but I.... did not consider that going from white to almost black would be equally bad, even with toned primer.

If I was doing this again, I think I would have attached the paneling after that first coat. But I think I was still underestimating how many coats it would take to darken bright white material, even with sanding for better grip. And the caulking almost broke me! My secret strategy to picking up new skills is always to underestimate how complicated they are, then power through on pride and stubbornness, but this tested me, haha

But I really love it! It's been done for a few weeks, so I've been dragging furniture into the room and steeling myself to drill holes for the curtain rod, and the Horrors have faded and I'm considering painting another guest room. I adore this color (salamander) to pieces, and I still have another gallon, but I'm not sure I want to commit to all this again. But.... the effect is soooooo restful, and it looks SO luxe, especially with the colored outlets and wall register. It's not going to be in my next paint project, but it may come up again!

[blurrymango]

Below the cut is. Some shit I just wrote.

You're eight years old and your twin just went into a coma. Their eyes are covered with bandages. Your parents keep them back home, in your room. Safe in their bed, right across from yours. Sometimes, it's easy to pretend they're just sleeping. That they'll wake up soon and things will go back to normal. But as time moves on, they don't wake up. You haven't spoken a word since the incident. Your parents don't notice it, or maybe they do, and they just don't care. It's quiet now. They can't speak. You won't either.

Your peers at school never liked either of you. Said you both weird, creepy. They notice your twin's absence. For some reason, they hate you even more. You get home, you go to your room, you ignore the body on the bed. You don't want to be in the same space as it. But you miss your sibling, and you don't want to be out in the house with your parents. Their hair grows out, you brush it, make sure it doesn't get tangled. You let your own hair grow too.

Sometimes, at night, you think you hear them speaking to you. You can't make out the words, you can't remember their voice. But you can hear them. You can't remember your own voice, either. Did the two of you sound the same? You know they used to talk a lot, you miss their voice. It's... been getting harder to recognize the body sharing your room as your sibling. It has your face, but not really. It's more like. A doll.

Sometimes, your parents catch you sleeping in the thing's bed. They tell you that you shouldn't disturb your sibling. It isn't your sibling, they were lively, bright, they had blue eyes and they liked to step on bugs. This thing in your room is a husk. It's barely alive. But it's warm. And you miss cuddling with your twin. You never hurt the thing. You're gentle with it. Careful not to disturb the tubes and wiring and whatever. You want to hurt it though, sometimes. It's frail, and pale, and lifeless. You wouldn't dare leave a single mark on its skin though. Your parents would have your head over it.

They make you get a haircut. It sucks. You cut the body's hair that night. You leave it longer than your own, though. Because it's more fun to play with if it's not short. Besides, their hair is better when it's longer than your own. You're going to be starting middle school soon. You want to tell it that. But you don't. You've forgotten how to speak, for one, and besides, talking to it would disturb the peace. You wouldn't speak to an inanimate object, you'd seem crazy. You probably are crazy though, because you can still hear it speaking to you at night. The words are louder but no less intelligible. It sounds like it's in pain. You are too.

Somehow, you make a friend at school. She has blue eyes. She likes to talk. She talks a lot, talks enough for the both of you. It's annoying. You draw things for her. You've punched a couple of bullies for her. But you don't let her touch you, it would be wrong, if you went home with someone else on your skin, you think. It might disturb the thing in the bed if there was residue of someone else. You've started taking care of the thing more often than your parents do, they think you're just being a good sibling, you just don't want them to touch what's yours.

Your friend goes home with you one day. Introduces herself to your parents. Funny, you don't remember if she ever told you her name, and you don't pay attention when she tells it to your parents either. They tease you about having a girlfriend. You feel angry at that. They think you're just flustered. She laughs, tells them you're just friends. The two of you hang out in the backyard, you're not ready to introduce her to. Your... twin. Yet. You almost don't even want her to look at them. She doesn't deserve to see them, delicate and monstrous. She doesn't deserve to go through that, it would scare her.

Somehow, she got a crush on you. You didn't even notice, your mind is stuck in your room with the doll most of the time. She comes over, and asks if the two of you can go to your room. You shut down, unable to stop her from dragging her into the space, you don't even notice her hand gripping your wrist, either. You're with her on your bed, her presence violates the air around you. What if her being here disturbs your twin? She's about to kiss you when her eyes finally glance at the other bed. She screams. She runs out of the house. The residue of her existence is hard to remove, you nearly cry while trying. You hope she didn't frighten the. Body. It's just a body. It can't be frightened. You have to remind yourself.

She doesn't speak to you anymore after that. She avoids you like the plague. You're grateful for it. She wasn't right for you. Her eyes the wrong shade of blue, her hair not dark enough. She won't be ruining yours afternoons and stealing away your attention from what's important. So delicate, and fragile. And warm. But not warm enough. In your mind, the body is still the same age your twin was, but you know that's not true. Time still passes, even though both of you are stagnant.

Puberty comes to the body first, with you waking up to blood all over the two of you. You scream, thinking that you had hurt it in your sleep. You nearly tear your vocal chords from it, even. Your parents rush in, no longer fazed to see you in the thing's bed. In your distress, you're thankful for their intrusion. They explain to you that your twin just got their first period. They say "she'll" be a woman soon, that "she's" growing up. You don't want that. You don't want that. They tell you that you'll be reaching puberty soon as well. That you'll be becoming a young man soon.

It terrifies you. The changes happening your bodies. Your parents give you the talk, and then tell you that you might be getting your own room soon. It's too much. It's too much all at once. You lock yourself in your room for two days. Only leaving the bed to get water from the bathroom connected to your room and to pee. Well, that's not true. You keep up your duties, taking care of the body. Your father finally manages to burst into the room on the third day. You're crying.

That night, you're too hungry to ignore. So you sneak into the kitchen, stop when you hear voices in the living room. Not the normal voices at night, your parents. Your mother is sobbing, your father sounds sad. They're talking about something. They're talking about your twin. Which is nothing out of the ordinary, they talk about the thing all the time. Always sad. Always sorrowful. Like they're mourning. It's sickening. But no. It's different. They're talking about you as well. Saying that this has "gone on long enough" and that they need to get both of you into the hospital. Your twin into a real hospital, you into an asylum. They're worried that you might do something terrible to your twin.

They're right, of course. You do something. But it's not terrible. It's not. It's an act of love. Nothing has felt right until now. Nothing quite as good as thrusting into the body's heat. You wonder why you didn't do this sooner. It feels amazing. Of course, the plan was to take the body and run away, but you feel so tired afterward that all you can do is pull out and lay down. You were gentle, being as inexperienced as you were. They bled, you felt guilty, almost enough to stop all together. But you didn't. You've been so good to this thing, so kind, you figured it's about time it did something for you. And it did. You had your first orgasm. Inside of it. You felt absolutely amazing.

You wake up to pain. And screaming. Your mother crying. Your father is angrier than you've ever seen him. It's terrifying. What the hell is going on? Your brain struggles to catch up. Your father's fist makes contact with your eye, and your remember last night. Right. Incest. You committed an act of incest. Of rape. And now you're being beaten for it. You hear your mother, full of sorrow and rage, screaming at you. "How could you do that to her?! To your own sister!?" It's funny, because that thing isn't your "sister", it isn't even your twin. Hasn't been since it fell asleep and never woke up. It's not even human, in your eyes. It's a thing. Of course, your parents wouldn't see it that way, now would they? They haven't had to spend every night in the same room as it. In the beginning they even scolded you for wanting to sleep somewhere else. They made you live with it and then they never bothered doing anything about your obviously declining mental state. So why are they so surprised? So angry? 5 years of neglecting you and they're shocked when you do something they think is bad? Your final thought before passing out is that this is their fault.

When you wake up next, you're in a sterile unfamiliar room. Your doll nowhere to be seen. A doctor sits beside you, you're afraid and confused and angry. He tells you that you're going to be staying there for a while. That you'll be getting the help you need. You're not paying much attention until he mentions your twin. You're not going to be able to see them, after what you did. You feel as though your heart has been ripped from your chest. You feel like you're dying. It's like your 8 years old all over again and you can't take it. You lash out. You attack the doctor.

The next years are a blur. You're drugged up most of the time. Hardly aware of anything except that your twin isn't around. You don't keep track of time. You don't keep track of anything. Your mind is in shambles. You think you see your parents sometimes. They're always angry at you. You want to crawl out of your skin. You want to die. You still don't speak. You won't speak. The only thing that's clear is at night, it's almost like you're back home because you can hear the thing whispering to you again. Except now, the words are clear. They want you to come find them. They forgive you, not for what you did during your final night together, no, they liked that, they forgive you for putting them in the coma in the first place. Oh. Right. It was your fault, wasn't it. But they forgive you. It's ok. They miss you.

You remember now, how it happened. You remember how you did it, but not why. The two of you had been on a camping trip with your parents. You were both exploring away from the campsite. It was nearing sunset. You had a rock. It was heavy, but small. You remember how easy it was, how satisfying it was for you to plunge it into their eye. Deeper. Deeper until they stopped screaming. They went limp. Both of you were covered in blood. Why did you do that? By the time your parents found you both, they were beyond truly saving. But you didn't know that at the time. You don't know why you did that to your own flesh and blood. The whole time, you were unaware that it was your own fault. You didn't know. You didn't realize. Why why why why why.

When you're to think clearly again, it's been ten years since the incident. You're not at home, you're not in the asylum either. You're in a hospital. It's night. Your twin is in a bed in front of you. How did you get here? You don't remember. You're holding a gun. How did you get that? Everything is mush from that final night you spent with them to now. You're different now, bigger. Taller and stronger and it feels wrong because when you look at them they still look so delicate, so frail. Why did you do it? Why did you ruin their life? You need to fix this. You stumble to them, your mind in a daze. Two bullets. Two bullets and you'll both be out of your misery. Two bullets and you'll be at peace. Shooting them should be agonizing. But it's easy, it's as easy as when you were eight and in the woods. You don't give yourself time to think about what you're doing after you shoot them. You simply aim the gun at yourself and shoot.

When you wake up, you shouldn't be waking up, but you're eight. You're in a hospital bed. Your twin is in a bed across from you. You don't remember anything. But you know that you've missed them. They smile at you like they know something you don't. It looks wrong. They look too pale. The room smells like death, old and rotting and full of dust. But they're smiling at you. And you smile too. They tell you it's been too long, that they've missed you. And you don't know what they're talking about. You finally look into their eyes. Red meeting blue. It feels wrong. Everything feels so very wrong. But you missed them too. And you're happy to be together with them. And they're happy too. All that matters is that you're together, right?

Right?

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[foxygalactic]

There was a Danganronpa V3 Halloween collab I participated in for @drv3giftexchangeclub! :D

I teamed up with MxSoda and I drew an art piece for their fanfic, featuring gokumota and their haunted house shenanigans with a couple other characters .w.

Please do check out the fanfic below!

[glownery]

wishing everyone who celebrates a happy easter and an even happier transgender day of visibility 🐣🪩🫶🪽

[leavemetoexist]

Just got to the second half of disco elysium and all i have to say is... WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK AHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

[velvetwyrme]

Ever wondered what the fictional protagonists of Distilling Destiny might look like? Well, here's my interpretation ;>!!

If you don't know what Distilling Destiny is, I suggest you go read Flipping Fate- the fanfic I'm co-writing :>! It's a fake book that exists within the world of FF- written by the one and only Stretch! (or, in real life: @collegecomics18 ;D)

(Additional notes and thoughts under the cut!)

There's no "canon" design for these characters, but I thought it'd be fun to try come up with some concepts :>! I actually drew these months ago with a gap between finishing each, so they all look slightly different stylistically lol

First off! Each design is associated with a playing card suit; the Knight is associated with HEARTS (♥️) , the Soothsayer with DIAMONDS (♦️) , and the Bard with CLUBS (♣). Not only can this be seen in small details, but also in their overall poses/shapes!

The shapes also correlate very neatly into the idea that all the characters are from different kingdoms- I would have tried to differentiate each kingdom's clothing style a bit more buuuuut that's... a lot of work, and we only really see a couple characters from each kingdom, so I just stuck with making each character feel distinct.

One thing I also tried to go for was making all of them "faceless" in various ways, since the characters in Distilling Destiny are embodied by their roles in a way that effectively strips them of any further identity; during the book club, the DD!characters are referred to as they are in the book- they HAVE no names, and are only referred to by their titles. They are also meant to correlate to/reflect the characters of Flipping Fate in a not-very subtle way, on account of Stretch being the author (and... [REDACTED]).

The Knight's armour references a LOT of things. Obviously, OG Papyrus' battle body (even his little blue shorts ;>), but the red plume on his helmet is meant to call back to Undyne, and some of the golden bits (e.g on the back of his gauntlets) are not only "heart" shaped, but are also reminiscent of tridents and thus Asgore and the Royal Guard.

The Soothsayer's clothes are patterned with diamonds and coins- they are both a connection to the reader/MC, but also!!! In tarot the "matching" suite for diamonds would be coins/pentacles :]!! The Bard's pipe is a fantasy equivalent of his FF counterpart's bad habits, and his blue accents are meant to be a small nod toward his brother LOL.

Anyway, this is already long as heck so why not make it longer! So here are the sketches that I did back in….. SEPTEMBER 2022?? kjdhfkjsf

You can see the original sketch for the Bard is much smaller than the other two since I did it while I was at work LMAO (plus the initial idea for the Knight I had, which ended up getting changed.)

Thank you for reading! If you got all the way down here, you probably deserve a little treat ;)!

So!! I mentioned at the beginning that each of the characters correspond to a card suit... which of course, means there is a spade as well.

(The only reason he's not in this lineup is because I haven't finished drawing him yet kjhfjgkjgkjfhgdskjg,,)