I Had To Draw Them

I had to draw them😌😌

goin thru my photos and here are the remainder of my tfc reread doodles

FINALLY!

After ages, I have designed Wukong’s giant form!

Now if you’ll escuse me I’ll go pass out.

Not a lot of people really utilize the fact that the gods of the ancient world were super messed up, did jacked up stuff to people for minor inconveniences, and legit did horrific things for the lols and billy being a child is probably just as likely to do weird things to people with his magic if he feels justified in their Billy head canons: let’s change that

Someone on Twitter @s the justice league official account in their rage tweet and Shazam/Marvel has volunteered to run the account for a few days while the league’s usual guy is out. It seems like a great idea at the time, he’s well known as super friendly guy and even though he’s pretty immature at times he always seems to be the best at deescalating hostile situations with the guidance of what he calls ‘the wisdom of Solomon’.

For a good while Marvel tried to reason with them, giving evidence to the contrary for every accusation, defending his fellow league members, and owning up to his own mistakes and promises that while the league does the best they can, they aren’t perfect. None of it is good enough for them though, they argue in circles for hours.

Finally he just says, “sir, your home will be a beacon for hoards of snakes, the harvest you wish to reap will be drowned by the rain you prayed for, your milk will curdle in your mouth, and your rage will only burn yourself with every poisoned word”

And not even an hour later that person tweets that a long term work project has just been ruined for this or that reason, their coffee is rancid because they didn’t check the date on the creamer when they bought it, posts photos of at least 12 snakes writhing in their bathtub, oh and they’ve been called out for being a jerk by everyone keeping up with the thread.

Marvel/Shazam is never allowed on the Justice League Twitter again.

Aziraphale’s phone rings.  He answers, expecting it to be Crowley.  But to his surprise, it’s a demon he’s never met.

“I’m Crowley’s replacement,” the demon says.  “He’s not done anything impressive lately, and Downstairs doesn’t like how ineffective he is at keeping you in line.  So now he’s shuffling paperwork and scooping up hellhound shit while I do his job for him.”

“Ah… I see,”  Aziraphale says icily.  “Well, I most assuredly do not look forward to working with you.”

The demon laughs.  “Feeling’s mutual.”

Twenty-four hours later, the demon is very surprised to find himself discorporated in his sleep.  He can’t explain what happened, he has absolutely no idea.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Beelzebub says, annoyed, and sends the demon back up.

After a mere three days, the demon ends up discorporated again.

A new replacement is sent up.  This one lasts for a week and a day.

A third replacement is sent up.  This one lasts for exactly four hours.

Three demons are sent up next time.  Two manage to stay alive for at least five months.  In that time, they botch four very important temptations, and the citizens of London inexplicably find their daily lives much improved in thousands of little ways.  Traffic and pollution are nonexistent, injury and illness are miraculously avoided.  Church attendance is up five hundred percent, and every politician and CEO is struck by the urge to donate as much money as possible to charity.  There’s a general feeling of contentedness and goodwill in the air that wasn’t there before.  It feels downright heavenly.

Suddenly, Beelzebub is having a very hard time finding anyone to take Crowley’s post.  Bribes and threats make no difference.  The rumors have spread and only grown more disturbing in the telling.  Not one demon is willing to go up there and face the cold, calculated, merciless wrath of the angel known as Aziraphale.

Crowley absolutely loses it when someone gets around to telling him.  “Y’know, I could’ve warned you,” he says gleefully.  “Been working with him for thousands of years.  I know exactly how much of a bastard he can be.”

After running the numbers and seeing how many souls they’ve lost to Heaven in the past year, Beelzebub gives up and concludes that trying to replace Crowley is a massive waste of resources Hell can’t afford.

After one year, Aziraphale receives another phone call.  He answers, with bated breath, and nearly shouts for joy when he hears a familiar voice.

“Hi, angel.  Lunch on me?”

‼️‼️ D A N G E R ‼️‼️