A/N: For the Fire Emblem Theatre Zine! Trying to slowly increase the Chrobin in my book of fics…I had a lot of ideas for scenes for this one but it was so hard trying to put them together into a single story. A little dramatic, but this is a theatre zine so…drama is part of the game! Also had to squeeze in a little Lon’qu/Panne in the background because them.
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Act 1
The Shepherds were broke.
Well, maybe not broke broke, but they were certainly in need of money. This wasn’t entirely unusual or new—if Ylisse was short of funds, it stood to reason that the people guarding it were doubly so. For as far as back as Chrom could remember, money had always been an issue in the country, despite Emmeryn’s best attempts to make up for the harm the war with Plegia had caused. Between necessities, restitutions, and rebuilding, every gold coin was stretched as thinly as possible.
For a while, Emmeryn’s policies had worked.
And then Plegia and Valm once more threw the continent into war, draining whatever coffers Emmeryn managed to shore up.
Chrom sighed as he sat at the Shepherd’s planning table. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his seat. Fighting had never been easy, but somehow he’d rather go into battle than create policy. There was always so much to consider, and more importantly, to carefully word. He’d always considered himself a simple man, but laws could not be worded simply.
He’d always thought that running the Shepherds was easier than being king—and that was true, but when it came down to funding…
“We’ll have to decrease our budget,” Robin mused, biting her cheek as she flipped through a thick stack of papers. “By at least ten percent, if not more.”
Money matters were always the worst no matter what context.
Even Frederick’s bear jerky was more appealing than this.
Chrom sighed once more. At least his wife had everything under control. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Lissa nodding off, her head gently bobbing up and down as she succumbed to sleep. He suppressed a chuckle; he wasn’t alone in this suffering.
“I have a few solutions to propose,” Cordelia said, holding her own stack of thick papers. She walked around the table, handing a bundle to each person. “It might not be enough but it should be a good start.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Chrom said as he received his own bundle. The papers felt heavy. Knowing Cordelia, they were detailed, covered in footnotes, and only needed the most minimal tweaks to be viable.
“Thank you.” Cordelia blushed slightly, pleased.
The paper stack dropped with a thud in front of Lissa, waking her up.
“I didn’t do i—!” Lissa gasped, covering her mouth as she realized where she was. She flushed a bright red, embarrassed. “Uh…I mean…”
“Lissa,” Robin sighed, disappointed but not surprised.
“Maybe a coffee can help?” Cordelia suggested, looking a single nod away from sprinting out of the room and down to the kitchens.
“Have you been having trouble sleeping, darling?” Maribelle asked, concerned.
“I-I find moving helps me,” Olivia offered nervously, fiddling with her fingers. While she had come a long way from the shy girl they’d first met, she still wasn’t used to public speaking yet.
“I see you need more training,” Frederick said, his expression tight. Every word was heavy with a promise of suffe—training to come. “Shall we go over policies and civic knowledge tomorrow, Lissa?”
“No, no, I’m good—I wasn’t sleeping,” Lissa denied, waving her hands in front of her as though to repel his offer physically. She glanced around, desperate, searching for help before her pleading eyes landed on Chrom.
He subtly shook his head. Frederick wasn’t someone you messed with on a whim.
She glared but he didn’t budge.
“Oh?” Frederick’s tone and expression didn’t change but somehow that just made him scarier. “Then what were you doing?”
“I…I…” Lissa’s eyes darted around the room wildly, jumping from Virion to Maribelle to Lon’qu before finally landing on Olivia. Her lips made a soft o and Chrom could hear the gears in her mind turning. “I was coming up with an idea.”
Chrom knew that expression. He’d seen it every time his wife and Lissa had a prank war.
“An idea?” Robin perked up.
“The greatest, best idea ever,” Lissa continued, growing more and more confident with each word. She stood up, her hands on her hips. With determined eyes and a broad smile, she announced, “We’re doing a play.”
“A play?” Frederick repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to determine whether he should rebuke her or applaud her.
“Yep.” She raised her hand, making a V for victory. “It’s a fun way to fix all of our money problems.”
-x-
It wasn’t the worst plan. It certainly wasn’t what Chrom had expected; maybe he should be happy that there were no pranks involved in this. Besides, Cordellia had confirmed that this was a plausible plan—they had manpower to act and make props. Olivia and Inigo could handle the stage direction (with a gentle push). Between all the cost saving and ticket sales, they’d make just enough to solve their funding problem.
At the very least, enough that bear jerky was off the table forever.
Lissa had suggested Swan Lake. Chrom had the faintest of memories seeing it with Emmeryn when they were kids. A small, richly decorated booth, men and women twirling and jumping across a stage, the saddest music he’d ever heard—Lissa had been even younger than him then. Did she remember any of it? Emmeryn’s peaceful smile as she relaxed for the first time in months? The way they’d held hands the entire time, the way they’d gasped and awed like any other family in the crowd?
He hoped she did.
“So, what do you think?” Chrom asked Robin as he stripped. One of the few perks of being royalty in the camp was the bigger tent. While he’d been loath to accept it when Frederick first thrust it on him, now that he was with Robin, he was starting to see the benefits.
Robin adjusted her reading glasses as she sat on her side of the bed, her knees drawn up as she rested the script on it. “I thought she was going to suggest a pranking war.”
They’d thought the same thing. Chrom chuckled as he slipped on his pants. “I thought she’d do a pranking-for-hire.”
He didn’t miss the way Robin peeked at him over the papers. Her ears reddened and perhaps he could enjoy the other benefits of having a large, private tent with its own bed. Forcing her gaze back to the script, she cleared her throat. “A play could be good for morale. With everything we’ve dealt with, we’re in need of some fun.”
Chrom slowly slipped onto the foot of the bed and crawled forward. Each movement was deliberate and he smirked when Robin’s cheeks matched her ears. “Everyone could use some fun.”
“That…” Robin’s grip on the script tightened. Flustered, she blurted out, “Why am I acting?”
“We’re both acting,” Chrom pointed out as he reached her side. When she refused to look at him, he laughed and sat down beside her. Wrapping an arm around Robin, he drew her close. “A prince and a princess. Suits us perfectly.”
“That’s not the point.” Robin pouted as she flipped through the pages. “There’s so many lines—do we have the time to memorize and practice?”
“You’re good at memorizing.” Chrom raised a brow; he’d never known Robin to balk from a challenge.
“You’re not,” she replied dryly. Resting her head on his shoulder, she sighed as she finally allowed herself to relax. “Shouldn’t we just do this as a dance, like it normally is?”
“If you just want two people on stage.” His soldiers, his friends, were all talented and amazing people. They also for the most part didn’t have an ounce of artistic talent. Chrom rubbed Robin’s shoulders gently. “And I don’t think Inigo fancies being Sieghart…”
Robin paled. “No, that would be…hard for them both.” She twirled a stray lock of her hair as she thought it over. “Ok, we have a lot of Shepherds, surely one of them can act.”
“We can act.” Robin leaned back, giving Chrom a look, and he kissed her brow. “Alright, we can’t act, but like you said, it’ll be fun. We’ve been really busy lately—it’s not just the others who need a break, you know.”
“The army doesn’t rest on the others,” Robin pointed out, still giving him a pointed look. “And we’re busy because we can’t take a break. The war preparations aren’t going to happen by themselves.”
“But we’re not by ourselves.” Gently, Chrom curled his hand around hers, intertwining their fingers. He rested his cheek on her head. “The others can help. You can’t always work—you need a break.”
It wasn’t just him that thought that. Lissa had winked when she’d handed out the parts, no doubt choosing the leads on purpose. Even Frederick and Cordelia hadn’t objected. Maybe they’d all realized just how stressed Robin had been the past few months. And while Chrom wouldn’t complain, he’d wanted more time with Robin, his wife, instead of Robin, his tactician. Between the war and their two daughters, they’d had time for little else other than falling asleep the second they got off duty.
Seeming to sense his feelings, Robin sighed. She glanced at the script again, at the parts she highlighted, and bit her lip. “I suppose a small break wouldn’t hurt.”
A small note of discord made its way into her voice and Chrom frowned. Despite her objections, the workload wasn’t her biggest issue. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just…Odile…” Robin crinkled the paper before dropping the script entirely. “It’ll be interesting playing two parts, I suppose.”
She was avoiding the topic. For a moment, he considered pushing her, but then he let it go. Maybe she just needed time. “If anyone can do it, it’s you.”
Her expression darkened.
-x-
Act 2
A groan. No, it was far more pained, more tortured than that. Chrom woke up with a start, staring at the tent gently sloping above him. As soon as he processed the sound, he turned to his side. Robin grunted, her forehead sweaty, her hands gripping the bed sheets as she twisted and turned.
Another nightmare. The eighth in four weeks.
Chrom pushed down his fears; now wasn’t the time. Wrapping his arms around Robin, he pulled her close, burying her head in his neck. “It’s ok,” he whispered, gently stroking her hair as he calmed her. “It’s ok.”
Slowly but surely, she stilled, her breathing evening out, her body falling limp and relaxing once more. She didn’t wake and in the morning, if she remembered her nightmares, she never told him.
He frowned as he tightened his grip on Robin. “What’s happening?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed before smoothening once more.
-x-
“I could make her a brew,” Miriel suggested, tapping a finger on her diary as considered the problem. In her tent, various vials bubbled and boiled. How she carried them on the march, he’d never know. “It can relieve her symptoms but it will not solve the root cause of her problems.”
Chrom gritted his teeth. He’d suspected as much.
Next to Miriel, Panne snorted. She held out a small burlap bag, smelling thickly of grass and herbs. Recently, she’d become more…approachable. Human. Friendly. If those were the right words. “This is better than any brew.”
“What is it?” Chrom asked, taking the herbs. Anything was better than nothing.
“A tea.” Panne smiled faintly. “Very good for nightmares.”
He’d seen her and Lon’qu drinking tea together, their voices low, their expressions calm. Even on the training grounds, Lon’qu had been more peaceful these days, as though the ghosts that haunted him had finally let go. Had it been the tea or the company?
He already knew the answer to that. Chrom turned to Miriel. “What do you suggest?”
“You have to talk with her.” Miriel pushed up her glances, uncharacteristic unease crossing her face. After mulling over her thoughts, she said, “…I have noticed, of late, that Robin has been more pensive. Something is on her mind. Perhaps, something happened recently.”
So it hadn’t been in his head. If Miriel, if the most oblivious, denser than a brick, Miriel noticed, then clearly Robin was acting strange. Yet, no matter how hard Chrom racked his brain, he couldn’t think of anything that would have happened recently to trigger that. War was on the horizon, but it always was. The only major upcoming event was the play and despite her misgivings, Robin was eager about it now. He couldn’t find her without the script.
Maybe juggling the play with the war preparations was too much work for her after all.
“I’ll talk to her.”
-x-
Despite the smell, Panne’s herbs had brewed into a sweet tea. Robin wrinkled her nose as she lifted her cup. “How do they taste so good and smell like this?”
“I never wished for a stuffy nose more,” Chrom grumbled as he took another sip. “No wonder Lon’qu keeps drinking this.”
Robin shuddered as she took a deep breath, unable to stop herself. “Maybe he’s always frowning because of the smell.”
“How does Panne handle this?” Chrom had heard her talk about her much more powerful senses time and time again. If it was bad for him, it could only be hell for her.
Robin worried her lip. “Maybe she doesn’t smell like we do? Especially if she drinks this every day. It has to be self-protection.”
Chrom laughed. His gaze flickered to the script on the small table between them, dog-eared and worn. “How’s practice?”
Once again, something dark flickered across Robin’s face but it disappeared as quickly as it came. “Good.” Robin gently kicked him under the table. “But I should be asking you that. You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m just honest!” Chrom defended himself, his hands in the air. “And what does that have to do with anything?”
“Actors are liars,” Robin clarified. She rested her cheek on her hand. “How’s anyone going to believe your acting?”
Well, that was true enough. At least, it had been before he’d talked to Olivia and Inigo about it. Chrom puffed his chest and smirked. “If I’m connected to the character, it’s not lying. Luckily, we’re both princes.”
Robin snorted. “It’s not that simple.”
She had him there. “Well, yes, I mean…there’s some things he did that I wouldn’t do, but…I can imagine it. How he got there.” Chrom scratched his cheek, not sure how to explain. “Just…I guess I’m finding the honesty in acting.”
“Honesty in acting…” Robin tightened her grip on her cup. “That sounds right…especially between Odile and me.”
It took him a moment to remember who Odile was. “Odile? Not Odette?”
Robin blinked, taking a moment to think about it. She jerked back, sitting up straight. “You’re right. Odette. Sorry, that was just a silly…flub.”
It clearly wasn’t. Chrom leaned forward, grabbing her hands, intertwining them with his so she couldn’t escape. “Is the play too much work? Is it stressing you?”
Robin stared at him blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“You haven’t been yourself lately,” Chrom replied, watching her carefully. Should he bring up the nightmares?
“That…” Robin squeezed his hands and shook her head. “No, you’re right. It’s just been piling on lately and I…I’m tired.”
No, that wasn’t right either. Chrom couldn’t explain it, but he could just sense her untruths. Despite how she’d teased him, Robin was just as bad at lying as he was. She was giving herself away, piece by piece, but he didn’t know how to connect it all. It was right there, right in front of him, but he just couldn't put it together.
Robin’s response had been funny. Odile.
Chrom glanced at the script. He hadn’t really paid attention to anything beyond his lines but maybe it was time he’d given it a second look.
Act 3
A jagged sword plunged into Chrom’s chest. Through blurry eyes, Robin could only watch in horror as blood dribbled out of his chest, held at bay only by the blade that caused it all. Chrom coughed wetly as he reached up, his bloody hand cradling her cheek.
“It’s not your fault,” he croaked, gasping as the sword shifted. “It’s not.”
It was, it was, how could he say that as she held the knife? It stuck to her palm like glue. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t say the words.
“Be happy,” Chrom whispered.
And then he closed his eyes and Robin woke up as she screamed.
-x-
Odile.
A character who barely existed. A character that barely had scenes to the point that usually Odette and Odile were played by the same person. Robin had thrice as many lines as Odette than she did Odile, yet she couldn’t stop going back to those few scenes, to Odile’s fragmentary parts, to her destructive words.
A father scheming to destroy a kingdom. A betrayal of love. Misery and death of both the prince and princess.
It was like looking at her own future.
No, not Robin’s future—just memories of another Robin, another future, a darker ending. One that she would never allow to pass, but it had happened once nonetheless. That Robin wouldn’t have wanted this either. That Robin would have tried her best to avoid it. What if she failed too? What if, despite it all, despite their best efforts, despite—
“Robin?”
A callused hand grabbed her shoulder and Robin jerked her head up to find Lucina. Her daughter.
No, not her daughter, not exactly. Another remnant of that bad timeline, complete with all the memories of Robin at her worst. Yet, despite that, Lucina was still holding onto her shoulder, still gazing at her with concern in her eyes. Robin could only imagine what their interactions must have been in that terrible future.
She forced a smile. “Lucina? What’s the matter?”
“You wouldn’t respond.” Lucina cleared her throat as she let go, looking a little embarrassed. In that, she took after her father, unable to hide her feelings in the least. No wonder she’d worn a mask. Glancing at the script, she smiled faintly. “Morgan’s like that too. Once he starts reading, you have to shake him out of his book.”
And if their daughter took after her father, their son took after his mom. Robin flushed and rubbed the back of her neck. “He got that from me.”
Lucina chuckled. “He definitely didn’t get that from dad.”
Dad. The word slipped out of her lips so easily, yet Robin could only count with one hand the number of times she’d called her mom. Not that she could blame Lucina. After all, in Lucina’s timeline, they were more strangers than anything else.
She shouldn’t be thinking about this. Robin pushed her thoughts aside. “What did you need?”
“Oh, Auntie was looking for you for rehearsals.” Lucina pursed her lips, glancing over her shoulder. “Thanks for keeping me off the roster. I think my acting’s worse than dad’s.”
Robin laughed, unable to stop herself from teasing, “Really, Marth?”
Lucina flushed. “I wasn’t really acting then!”
“Oh?” Robin raised a brow, her smile widening. “So that was all natural.”
“That wasn’t, I mean…” Lucina’s blush went from her ears to her neck and she looked away. “Anyways. Auntie needs you.”
She was cute. Robin had thought that when she’d held Lucina for the first time, her chubby hand wrapped around Robin’s finger. She had thought it when she’d realized that this Lucina was also hers. While her daughter would never grow up the same as this Lucina, Robin was certain she’d be just as cute.
A shiver ran up Robin’s spine. Would her daughter really not grow up to be like this? Would things really go differently?
Odile had stolen Odette’s place, a cuckoo pushing a bird out of the nest. Validar had set her down this path, staring her down a journey she couldn’t undo. If Chrom hadn’t reached out to an amnesic traveller, if Robin hadn’t made her way to the Shepherds—who would he have turned to? Whose hands would he have held?
Who had she pushed out of the nest?
Could that have been a happier future? A safer one?
It was a silly thought. An unnecessary one.
Yet, seeing the darkness in Lucina’s eyes, Robin couldn’t stop thinking of it all the same.
-x-
None of the children talked about the future if they could help it. Not that they needed to. Robin could tell by their glances, by the way they stiffened at the sight of her, the way they broke at the sight of their parents just what had happened. Will happen.
Despite her lost memories, Robin had always been quick on the uptake.
Her nightmares helped. They were almost daily now, feeding her the future in fragments—Chrom’s injuries, Frederick’s last stands, Lucina’s fearful eyes, Validar’s dark smile as corruption spread through her.
Her hand, stained red with Chrom’s blood.
Robin woke up with a start. Next to her, Chrom lay perfectly still, and fear filled Robin. Then his chest raised, his shallow breathing too soft for her to hear, and Robin sighed. She ran a sweaty hand through her hair, pushing it out of her face.
Chrom was alive.
Her hands were wet with sweat, not blood.
Chrom was alive.
Robin crawled closer. This close was she could make out the dark bags under his eyes from the nights of soothing her after her nightmares. His chest was covered with more scars than she could count but none on the center left, none over his heart. Her sword had struck him, not yet. Carefully, she pressed her ear against his skin, closing her eyes as she listened to the beatbeatbeat.
Act 4
Despite all of her worries, despite her thoughts, the play ran smoothly. While she’d always thought of Chrom as a Shepherd first, he was still a king, and had been a prince once, and so he’d taken to his part with more grace than she’d expected.
Even Lissa had been impressed.
The climax of the play had finally hit and Robin rolled back her shoulders before strolling across the stage. Dressed in black, it was Odile’s turn to shine. The stage had transformed into a ballroom, dancers swirling on the edges as they cleared room for her and Chrom to meet. While she couldn’t see them over the lights, Robin could hear the audience tittering as she curtseyed to Chrom.
Their gasps as he agreed to marry Odile.
“Odette,” Chrom said with a smile, utterly guileless. Convinced she was his true love, he took her hand, kissing it softly.
And for a moment, Robin could imagine Odette watching, banging her hands on the doors, shouting to the prince. Telling him to open his eyes, that the woman he was marrying wasn’t Odette, that he was being tricked.
“Odette,” Chrom said again, concerned.
That wasn’t her name. Yet he still called her it, nonetheless. Because she looked like Odette. Because he loved Odette.
And because Chrom trusted Robin, because Chrom loved Robin, he hadn’t suspected a thing when she had approached him with that knife. He hadn’t pushed her away when she’d stabbed him with that knife, when Grima had taken over and finished the job.
It’s not your fault, he had said, because even in the end, he had loved her too much to blame her. To stop her. To kill her.
Her hands were red.
Robin couldn’t breathe.
Somehow, she got off the stage. Did she say her lines? Did the scene change? Robin didn’t know. Robin didn’t care. Automatically, she walked and walked and walked until she was at the back of the stage, standing next to the set piece for the lake. Dimly, she knew she had to change her dress, go from black to white.
Robin, Chrom had said, holding her hands, and all she could see was him accepting Grima and she couldn’t breathe.
“Odette?”
Robin turned. The stage curtains had raised without her noticing, the scene moving from the front of the stage to the back. Chrom stood in front of her, concerned. Slowly, he approached her. “Odette, what are you doing?”
When she still didn’t respond, he reached for her. Quietly, he whispered, “Robin? Are you alright?”
She smacked his hand away. “Why?”
When it was clear she’d hit his hand again, he let his hands fall to his sides. “Why what?”
They were on stage. The scene had to go on. This didn’t make sense. Yet, Robin couldn’t stop rambling. “Why did you marry her? Why did you accept her?”
Chrom cocked his head, confused. Thinking it was part of the scene, he played along. “That—I thought she was you. I’m sorry—”
“She’s not—she’s not me,” Robin interrupted, distressed. Her sight grew blurry, her cheeks hot, and she wiped away her tears before Chrom could reach out again. “You thought she was me and you accepted her and…you got hurt because of it. Because of me.” Because of love, and her heart was in her throat, making it even harder to breathe.
Love had killed Chrom. He would have been more wary if it had been anyone else. Not for the first time, she’d realized just how insidious Validar’s plan was. How insidious her father was.
How the blame still laid at her feet nonetheless.
Her shoulders slumped. “I should never have met you.”
“Don’t say that.” Cautiously, Chrom approached her. “Never say that.”
“It’s true, though. If you hadn’t met me…” Robin reached up, touching his chest, touching where the scar should be. Would be. Memories and nightmares mixed and merged in her now, timelines meaningless. Her hands had stabbed him. Would stab him. Hadn’t yet stabbed him.
There were no guarantees in life, only risks, and Chrom’s existence wasn’t something she was willing to jeopardize.
“You could have lived.”
“I would have just lived,” Chrom corrected, covering her hand with his. “If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have known what love is.”
“Or death,” Robin continued, curling her hand, digging her nails into his chest. “Or betrayal. Or—”
“No, I would have known those regardless.” Chrom chuckled darkly. “I already knew that. I’ve seen what Emmeryn dealt with. But you…you gave me something brighter. Better.”
Robin finally looked up, meeting his tender gaze. “You could get hurt,” she begged.
“I’ll take the risk.” Chrom nodded with his head, gesturing at the people watching them worriedly off-stage. “Besides, we’re not alone. We have Lucina. Frederick. Lissa. Morgan. Everyone. So, I won’t get hurt.”
“But—”
“And if I do, we’ll figure out something together.” Chrom leaned forward, touching their foreheads. He smiled. “You’re good at that, right?”
She couldn’t fight him. His warmth spread through her, calming her fears. He was right. They weren’t alone. Things weren’t going the same as they had in that other timeline. She reached up, cradling his check, watching as he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut.
Because of love, he had been betrayed and killed.
Because of love, he was still here, his heart as open as it ever was. Emmeryn still lived, Validar had been overthrown, their kingdom wasn’t in shambles. Infinite possibilities still existed. The future wasn’t cut in stone.
Sieghart had turned down Odile in the end.
Maybe it was time she did the same. Robin laughed, watery. “That’ll take some overtime.”
Chrom pressed a kiss to her palm. “I’ve got good pay.”
The audience cheered, reminding them acutely of just where they were. Robin flushed, embarrassed. It was one thing to break down, another to break down in front of everyone, and she hadn’t meant to do either. Part of her wanted to crawl under a rock.
“And so the princess’s curse was cured!” Lissa shouted as she stomped onto the stage. “The end!”
Robin could only watch as she shot them both a glare accompanied by a slicing motion to her neck.
“Dear,” Chrom whispered. “Mind helping me figure out how to get out of this?”
Robin laughed, leaning forward to kiss him. “I’m good, but not that good.”
If you voted “yes”, then great news! The extinct mastodon “Mammut” borsoni was armed with 5 meter long tusks. Measured with the tusks as part of its length, it was likely the longest land mammal to have ever existed. If you include the tusks.
Me: Remember how when Tai was sucked back to the human world and the rest of the team fell apart almost immediately? He really was needed as the leader lol
CD: Because of all the kids he was the only one who ever had to be responsible for others.
Me: *Making that connection in real time* ...OH SHIT!
so as per various DC social media concepts Clark has a Superman twitter where he posts left-leaning but fairly safe & tame stuff e.g. happy pride from Superman. Clark Kent also has his own twitter account where he posts his actual opinion.
what happens if uh. what happens if he forgets which account he's logged into.
scenario 1: what's clearly an official Superman post pops up on some rando journalist's twitter and is noticed before he can delete it. leads to controversy when people conclude that Superman has hired this Clark Kent person to do his social media. Clark now has to deal w the fact that everyone thinks he's Superman's social media manager. employers at the Daily Planet very confused as to why he didn't tell them about his side gig
scenario 2: world wakes up to Superman tweeting about how he hates the police
Scenario 2: “world wakes up to Superman tweeting about how he hates the police” and then the Shazam twitter account starts agreeing with him and that’s how the world finds out that two of the most powerful heros both hate the police
Someone tweets if Bruce Wayne pays taxes, and Bruce accidentally replies with his Batman account with a simple "Yes", so people start to think that besides beating up villains, Batman also spends his time staring menacingly at billionaires while they fill their taxes to make sure there's no creative accounting going on
just remembered the other day a teen approached me holding a rapidly melting chunk of ice in his hand and asked if i wanted to buy a "limited edition pet rock"
kianamaiart
gummygunk
baratheonpilled
romaincrisis
s-u-f-j-a-n-s-t-e-v-e-n-s
origamiaround
