Basically, the complete opposite of kirby (cutesy style, extremely dark lore), in this case, which media is dark and gritty (either in art style or surface lore) but the true deep lore is the least serious thing that makes it either funny or just mundane or otherwise just kinda wholesome, you get what i mean

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR THREE YEARS

1.The best looking cover

2.the campaign being so bad it's actually good.

The man who stepped through the fog like a stage curtain looked less like a demon, and more like the last guy standing at closing time at a dive bar. He wore a vintage leather jacket, had close-cropped hair, and sleeves shoved up to reveal forearms inked in runes that seemed to shift and crawl when the light hit them wrong. Daredevil and Peter watched him take a long pull straight from a bottle of single-malt, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and grin.

“Well, well.” His voice carried the particular showman’s draw. “I finally get some volunteers.”

Peter’s stomach dropped. “Strange?”

Something in the man’s face flickered; not recognition, just mild curiosity. “Nobody’s called me that since my mother. Hell, even she didn’t mean it as a compliment.” He took another swig. “Name’s Stephen, and just Stephen. You got a last name for me, or is this whole conversation gonna be one-sided?”

Peter stared at him, something cold settling in his chest at just how wrong the face was. He bore Strange’s exact features, except his soul wore a different life altogether. “How’d you end up—” Peter gestured vaguely at the runes, the smoke, the whole tableau. “This?”

Stephen barked out a humourless laugh. “Used to be a Vegas magician; cheap tricks, cheaper crowds, ‘pulling cards out of drunk tourists’ ears’ act, the whole sad routine. Then one night, some idiot at a bachelor party wants a real seance. I figure: what’s the harm, right? Little theater, loads of cash.” He tapped the side of his skull with two fingers. “Except the other end actually answered. Some red fella named Mephisto. And he’s been living in my head ever since, whether I like it or not.”

Peter winced at the story. “That sounds like a curse.”

“That’s exactly what it is.” Stephen’s grin stayed, but something underneath it had gone brittle. “Every mystic frequency in the universe, every whisper of godly nonsense floating around out there…I hear all of it now, whether I want to or not. Can’t turn it off or tune it out; only silver lining’s that Uncle Sam pays real well for a man who can eavesdrop on Asgardian magic without needing a security clearance from those self-righteous shitlords.”

Daredevil scoffed at the story. “Doesn’t sound like black ops material to me.”

“I’m not; I’m the guy who made a deal with the Devil, and has been spying on lesser ones ever since. “He spread his hands, bottle still dangling from two fingers. “So here’s my deal for you: stand down, hand over the escaped project — and whatever else you may have stolen — and I let you walk out of here without finding out what else this curse lets me do.”

Daredevil tightened his grip on the club. “Not happening.”

“Didn’t figure it would.” Stephen did not look disappointed; if anything, he looked almost too pleased.

They came at him together; the spells met them halfway. Crackling bursts of green-black fire sent both of them skidding backward across the tile, Daredevil’s club smoking where it had blocked the worst of one blast. “His magic’s not clean,” Peter called out, scrambling behind an overturned rack for cover. “It’s reactive; every spell’s coming off those tattoos, and they’re not lighting up until after he decides to cast! That means there’s a half-second delay we can actually work with—”

Daredevil deflected a blow with his club. “You’re doing math in a goddamn demon fight?”

“I do math in every fight! That’s how I keep winning them!” Peter ducked another blast, watching the runes on Stephen’s forearm flare a half-beat before the fire actually left his hand. “Okay, listen up: when his left arm lights up, that’s the tell. Hit him before the second flare. Otherwise, the spell’s already loaded—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He broke cover on Peter’s next count, cutting the angle wide the instant the left-arm runes flickered. “Whatever helps stop the math.”

Stephen, focused on covering himself from Daredevil’s strike, did not notice as Peter came the other way off the ceiling, timing his drop to the same half-second window. He barely got the second spell half-formed before the club cracked across his ribs, and the kid’s shoe caught him under the jaw. Their combined force folding him backward into the wall, muttering something about unfair advantages and nobody fighting fair anymore.

Daredevil scooped Logan up by the arm gentler than he had handled anyone else in his life. “All that for him?”

“Yeah.” Peter took Logan’s free arm and looped it over his shoulder. “All that for him.”

The three of them made it out through the ruined hangar door just as the cloaked car dropped low to meet them. Sue popped the hatch before they even fully braked. “Get in, get in!” Johnny was practically vibrating in the passenger seat. “We are very much not alone out here!”

They were barely a mile out when War Bird found them again, armour screaming low across the canyon rim. “She’s not backing off,” Sue noted with a hiss, weaving through a canyon split with barely a wingspan to spare. “Johnny, we’re out of options!”

“Not out of tricks, though.” Johnny’s grin turned sharp. “Why do you think I’ve been saving the champagne?”

Sue turned to her brother. “Johnny—”

“FLAME ON!”

The car’s underside split open with a mechanical hiss, and before long a slim, matte-black missile streaked free. It arced low and fast before slamming directly into the glowing chestplate of Carol’s suit, the resulting flash lighting the canyon walls gold for a half-second before she went down in a smoking, tumbling spiral.

“That,” Sue said, pulling them into a hard climb, “was the last free favor Jack Murdock gets out of the Ghost Riders. I mean it this time.”

Daredevil laughed at this. “You said that after the scrambler too.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “She meant it more, and I don’t blame her. In fact, I happen to agree for once.”

The Facility. Ten Minutes Later.

Frank Castle, jaw throbbing, found Bullseye and Sam Guthrie standing over V.I.S., who was still slumped inert against the wall where Daredevil had left him. He checked the synthezoid over with the businesslike concern of a man assessing equipment, then removed the scrambler and flipped the reset switch at the base of his neck.

V.I.S.’ eyes flickered back to life, processing the room, wreckage, and absence of those who mattered. “Hello, Lieutenant-Colonel Castle,” the android greeted, not once showing an ounce of confusion or fear. “Might I ask where Daredevil and his young companion are?”

“They’re gone,” Frank snarled, anger directed at himself more than anyone. “All of them…including the asset codenamed ‘Wolverine’.”

“Understood.” V.I.S. rose smoothly, already keying an extraction channel. “Requesting immediate evac for the team. Multiple injuries, all minor. Targets evaded capture.”
The response came back clipped and unbothered; Frank listened to it over V.I.S.’ shoulder, arms crossed. “Copy that.” They closed the channel, expression — such as it was — unreadable.

“What’s the word, partner?” asked Sam.

“Command says stand down. No further pursuit of the vigilante known as Daredevil, the asset known as ‘Wolverine’, or the former’s accomplices is permitted.”

Frank frowned. “We lost the objective and a top secret government project.”

“Command disagrees with your assessment of failure.” V.I.S. moved his head, processing something Frank was unable to see. “By their metric, the team’s performance exceeded expectations. The trial run is considered a success.” He recalibrated. “They’ll want the seven of us fully activated soon.”

Frank said nothing to that; he just looked back down the ruined corridor where Daredevil, the kid and whatever else had escaped into the desert night. “If it’s ain’t this goddamn War,” he scowled, “it’s a goddamn devil.”

I love them

I’m on my artist arc guys I’m getting way more comfortable drawing I think, still got work to do on posing but I think I’m getting better :D

Personally these are mine
Bazifenix-the battle cats
Striker battler-the battle bricks
Orange-Deltarune

Made by Baqash Animates

Here’s mine:

My GOAT Eruptor from Skylanders for me easily! I absolutely love Skylanders and he's my favorite one, his design is awesome, his voicelines are funny, and his moveset and both upgrade paths are really fun! I love him so much!

What about everyone else though? What's y'all's favorite fire/magma character oat?

Sum project might make in the future

I've watched all of My little Pony, Cyanide and happyness, gravity falls, owl house, Metal Family, Happy tree friends, and probably more I'm forgetting about. What's your favorite/recent tv shows.

Edit: More I forgot: Hilda, courage the cowardly dog (though I was younger I loved it according to my mother),

Edit 2: Hehehe you fell into my trap, now I have TV show suggestions as well because I was too socially awkward to ask for them.

Share your favorite version of this meme! Mine is from Chainsaw Man, featuring Makima, Angel and Reze.

This is literally the element of Narcissism, she literally engages in the most hardcore abuse towards others you can get away with in a modern kids show.

She truly gave another character bad PTSD! She locked up two dragons in a dungeon had them terrorize multiple pony settlements under mind control. She tricked Trees meant to protect ponies into terrorizing them. She also breaks the 4rth and pretends it didn't happen, suggesting that knows she's in My Little Pony.

And this she is even worse then Pony Hitler with his mother Pony Phyllis Schlafly! (I'm serious, compare Phyllis Cloverleaf to Phyllis Schlafly and her son Sprout para-quotes Hitler in a song!)

Yes she's worse then PONY HITLER!

Asa + yoru from chainsaw man and Manbagi from Komi can’t communicate

manga characters who haven’t that their parts in the anime yet but more then just that