You fools. You think this will stop me, a fanfic writer, from writing those OTP moments? The gay is only beginning, my friends.
- “I had to jump three balconies and crawl up two flights to see you”
- “I’m stuck in the stairwell to your room because there’s another couple making out and they’ll spot me”
- “our rooms are right next to each other but we still text all the time”
- “you live down the hall from me and it’s only now that I’m realizing that you have the cutest pajamas ever”
- “you play shitty music at 3 in the morning and I’m not afraid to kill you”
- “you’ve been reading those notes out loud for the past four hours and I’m just listening in because I’m learning more from you than I did the entire two weeks of lessons”
- “dude you’ve been playing sad music for the past three days are you okay”
- “I’m the stress baker and you’re the stress eater and we’re always stressed so we end up become best friends”
- “I tried to do laundry for the first time ever and it looked easy but now there’s soap everywhere and all my white clothes are pink will you stop laughing and help me please”
- “we’re study partners before we moved into the dorms so we don’t change anything but we do find out that everyone else thinks we’re dating so they end up leaving us alone to study how convenient”
- “someone keeps stealing my favorite socks and when I find out who I’m going to strangle them with their shoelaces”
- “someone through the gaudiest pair of shoes up on the roof who in their right mind would wear those - oh they’re YOUR shoes?”
- “I ran out of hygiene supplies so I’m borrowing yours but I keep forgetting to buy more so we always share but I end up liking you a lot so I always say I ‘forgot to buy more’ and I think you’ve caught on but you’re not saying anything”
- “I have twelve tons of homework I kept putting off but you’ve had yours done for weeks but you won’t let me copy so I have to sneak into your room for the answers and wow you really love weird socks”
- “you keep burning candles and the smell keeps drifting over to me and I’d usually be fine with that but you have a terrible taste in candles”
Guys this is our chance for every single “dorm room shenanigans” thing EVER
They’re thunder and lightning, the two of them
Coming one after the other
Even if they’re a bit apart
He roars, softly shaking the whole universe
Not seen, but refusing to go unnoticed
She electrocutes the sky and disperses into a million sparks
Like a firework created by God himself
Together they jump from balconies
Hold the stars and cling to them
When he would forget what he sounds like
She would crackle and remind him
And when she would cry out and the whole sky burned
He would scream with her so that she was not alone
They made a perfect storm
Intense and sometimes disastrous
But so beautiful they could fill rooms they weren’t in
And when they laughed
I think the angels could hear them
*Ladybug is jumping home after a long day of akuma fighting, and she only has 1 spot left on her earrings.*
LB: I better hurry! *detransforms mid-jump and lands on random roof* Well shoot.
Chat Noir: *sees Marinette on a roof* Princess? *jumps over to her*
Marinette: Now how am I gonna–
Chat: HELLO, PURRINCESS! May I ask why you’re on a roof?
Marinette: Uuuhhhh … I-it was the akuma!
Chat: Okay, well, I better take you home then!
And thus, balcony scene.
Prompt: 24 “Did I stutter?” Warnings: Really angsty lots of swearing and really long like holy fuck I need to chill. Y/N: Your Name Word Count: 2434
To you, drama was the best subject on the planet. There was no sitting at desks planning essays or writing down the answers to endless math questions. You got to run around in weird costumes, jump off balconies and even at some point, set fire to couches on stage, all in the name of art. It was insane, inane and you absolutely loved it. But there are always downsides to every good thing, and that downsides name, was George Frederick. George was, for lack of better words, a drama queen. If things didn’t go his way, like he didn’t get the main part or that one monologue he wanted, he would proceed to complain about it for weeks on end. He’d bitch about whoever was in charge and would talk about his rich father and entitlement to the things he wanted. It was as if Draco Malfoy had been plucked from the bookshelf and dropped into your class by God himself, wanting you to repent for your sins. But the worst thing, the worst thing about George Frederick? It was your stupid, ongoing crush on the moron.
It was, quite frankly ridiculous. His stupid smirk, and the air of smug, self-satisfaction he held about him, his distinct whine of a voice. You found it all… cute. You had no idea why. You thought it was just a temporary thing, a fleeting attraction, but 3 months since your initial realization and your feelings for him had not dimmed at all. If anything they’d only grown, and expanded, to the point where you found it hard to be around him without getting agitated and frustrated with yourself. It had come to the point where you would try to subtly turn the other way when you saw him coming and try to keep your distance from him as much as possible. You wouldn’t call it avoiding per say, if anything it was caution. But after the many months of your careful evasion, your luck ran out.
Your drama class had begun its newest project, short scenes. The idea was that students would pick a section of a play or theatre piece and either work alone or in groups up to 3, to present and perform the fragment to a crowd of parents and classes. Originally you had planned to go alone, and perform Ofelia’s monologue from Hamlet, but fate was working against you and alas when the time of grouping came, your drama teacher Mrs Washington asked you as the only person working alone, if you would join the only student who no one wanted in their group, George.
You couldn’t say no to her, and accepted. All those months of practised escapes and rehearsed withdrawals did you no good now. Sitting on the second floor by the windows, him across from you from you, the sun in his hair as he recited lines a from the Twelfth Night. You’d never felt so helpless.
“Y/N? Are you listening to me?” George demanded, snapping you back to reality. His face was screwed up like he’d been sucking on a lemon, lips pursed. You wanted to kiss him and swear at him at the same time, it was all very conflicting. “Hmm?” You hummed with disinterest, much more concentrated on how to get out of this situation. “Did I stutter? I asked if you were listening.” His eyes narrowed, awaiting your response. You opened your mouth for a few seconds trying to come up with an excuse. Nothing came to mind, you blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, I’m gonna be straight up with you, no.” You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest. George bristled. “I’m sorry.” He clicked his tongue angrily. “Am I not interesting enough?” He hissed, you glared back at him. “It’s not you, it’s the play.” You grumbled, George gave an insulted gasp, as if you’d kicked his puppy or some crap. You couldn’t believe you had a crush on this guy.
“This play is incredibly important to me, Shakespeare was one of the best playwrights the world ever saw, and you should feel privileged to be able to perform one of his pieces with me.” George looked like he was going to throw a tantrum but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted to be on your own, as far away from him as possible before you did something stupid. “I was already planning on doing Shakespeare you twat! Hamlet, which is much more fun the god damned Twelfth Night!” You screeched, George scoffed, flicking his dumb perfect hair to the side. “Well you chose me as your partner so I chose the play! Simple as that.” That caught you off guard. You didn’t choose him, is that what Mrs Washington had told him? You shook your head and carried on. “Yeah, did you have to pick a romance? I barely know you for fucks sake! How am I going to pretend to be in love with you? Hell how are you going to pretend to love me?” Very easily, a voice at the back of your mind said, you swatted the thought away. Watching George’s expression, you were surprised to find him… blushing? He looked, kind of cute? You wanted to punch yourself.
“Oh please, everyone loves me. Even you I bet.” And the cuteness was gone, replaced by indignance and frustration. “Pardon?” You asked, not bothering to keep the aggressive tone in your voice out. “You heard me, why else would you have asked to be with me for this performance. I could’ve chosen from so many people but I accepted you. You should feel privileged.” George laughed snottily. You hated that laugh, the stupid smile on his face, you wanted to rip it off, and you knew exactly how. “I didn’t chose to be with you, asshole.” You spat, venom dripping from your words. The smile on George’s face fell, and was replaced with one of shock. “What?” You laughed bitterly at the question and covered your face in your hands so you wouldn’t have to look at him anymore. So you wouldn’t feel any guilt for what was coming.
“Why would I want to be with you? When I spend all my time avoiding you? When all you do is bitch and moan and act like you’re hot shit, because newsflash Georgie- You aren’t! Mrs Washington came up and asked me to be in a pair with you because no one else did, and I said yes out of pity. So don’t act as if I want to be here because I speak the truth when I say I don’t want anything to do with you whatsoever!” You took a deep breath and dug your nails into your scalp. Your body was shaking but you didn’t know why. You waited for the snarky response, the whingeing or the complaints but they didn’t come. Instead all you heard was short, mournful. “I know.” You lifted your head from your hands to see George, leaning against the window, a sorrowful look on his face. You felt an empty stab in your chest. “George-” You tried to speak but couldn’t finish your sentence. George rubbed his eyes with the base of his palm. Was he crying? “I know what everyone else thinks. What they say. I’m a spoilt brat, the real life Draco Malfoy, a rich, friendless warning of what you shouldn’t act like if you want to form a good relationship with someone. I’m far too gone to repair any of that now. The only reason people put up with me is because alone, I am nothing. I have nothing to bounce off of, nothing to counteract or argue with.” George paused and turned, staring you straight in the eyes. You could see tears on his cheeks. Guilt panged in your stomach as a chill ran down your spine. You felt your heart rate increase exponentially.
“What I didn’t know, was you. I’d never talked to you, Y/N. I had never heard you badmouth me, never approached you. Nothing. Because I was too afraid to. I’d seen you perform your parts perfectly, do speeches with such confidence and positivity. I’d hear you laugh and talk around the courtyard and I’d feel happier, seeing you around, even if it only happened a few times. I know you didn’t choose me to be in your group, because Mrs Washington suggested to place me with you, she said you wanted to be in my group but I knew the truth, no one would want to. But still, I wanted to talk to you and get to know you. I wanted to befriend you, to… charm you. So of course, I said yes. But I guess I let myself get in the way of that, again.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes as you processed what he was saying. “You asked me why I chose the Twelfth Night. How we would pretend be who to pretend to be in love while barely knowing each other and the answer is that, I… don’t think I’m going to have to pretend.” Your heart stopped in your chest as George turned his gaze to the floor. What he had just told you, the compliments, the truth, it was all very hard for you to believe, but still so easy. This side of George was new and different, but you honestly liked it as much as the other. And what he had said… He wouldn’t have to pretend. He wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love and… neither would you. “For someone as great as me, I have to say I’m quite pathetic.” He laughed sadly. A tear fell from his face to the floor, and for you that was breaking point. George didn’t have time to react as you threw yourself into him, wrapping your arms around his back and pressing kisses on the top of his head. “What are you-” He began but was cut off by a flurry of apologies. “I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You repeated, tears pricking at your eyes. You’d been so concentrated on your emotions you hadn’t thought about his, how he felt about the situation. After his speech, his confession and his tears, you couldn’t deny it anymore. You were in love.
“Y/N!” He yelped pulling away slightly, your faces were centimeters from each other and your arms were now wrapped firmly around his neck. From this proximity you could see his face, red as a tomato. He was sputtering nervously. “But you- hate! You don’t like me you, you said-” You shook your head. “I was confused and frustrated before, and I took that anger out on you. I’m sorry, and I hope you can forgive me. It took me a lifetime to accept but I think that I…I.” George waited for your answer, but it was too overwhelming to say, to much to put into your own words. Instead you took a deep breath and pressed a kiss to his forehead, finally opening you mouth, you spoke gently.
“She never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm ‘i th’ bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pinned in thought; and, with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?” George’s face lit up, as you wiped away his tears with your thumbs. “Shakespeare!” He gushed, making you laugh. “Yes, Shakespeare you dork.” You giggled as he watched you in awe. “Then this means-?” You nodded in affirmation, George’s face split into a grin as he wrapped his arms around your waist.
“So I can kiss you, right?” He asked breathlessly. You nodded, giving him the green light. He leaned into you and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was enthusiastic, exciting and a bit possessive. He moved his lips against yours eagerly, but couldn’t help but break into giggles. “Wait till I show off my new girlfriend to everyone. Hamilton and his friends will be so jealous.” He said as you broke the kiss off. His smug grin was back, but this time there was something charming about it. “Unpopular my ass, I’ve got the prettiest girl in the school by my side.” You rolled your eyes and poked him gently in the ribs. “Don’t let it go to your head, Mr popular.” You warned him, George smirked and snaked his arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You shrieked in protest but he was having none of it. “Together we’ll rule this place Y/N! The kings and queens of the school!” He cheered spinning you around. A voice shouted at you from the first floor.
“Correct me if I’m wrong but that doesn’t sound like Shakespeare, Mr Frederick? Ms Y/L/N?” Called up Mrs Washington. You froze as George dropped you. You looked and shrugged, indicating for him to speak, he thought for a second, then gave you a wink and shouted down to Mrs Washington. “I guess I know more Shakespeare than you Miss!” He bragged cockily. You slapped your hand to your face and groaned, you’d fallen in love with an asshole. “George!” You hissed to him, he waved you off. “It’s fine, she likes me!” But as the words fell from his mouth the distinct, threatening sound of heels clicking against a linoleum staircase echoed up to where you two were. George’s face went pale. So he was capable of feeling fear. You came up with a plan in your head “You have free period next, right? Same as me?” “Yes, I do?” “Run.” “Ah, a fine idea.” The two of you grabbed your things, shoving them into your bags. George took your hand and laced his fingers with yours, leading you forward, you thundered down the staircase, barreling past Mrs Washington and out the doors, laughing all the way.
Martha Washington watched them go by with a smile. “Well then. I do believe Mr Washington owes me some money.” She said to no one in particular, making her way down the stairs.
♡Tagged by @doodlesofall ♡
1) Lockscreen: rococo painting
2) Homescreen: a complementary rococo painting with alphabetized/categorized apps
3) Last selfie i took: today but take yesterday’s instead
4) Song i’m listening to: Ci Sara bc romantic italian music from the 80s is good for your soul
♡ I tag: @rulerofshit, @taliyahswife, and @supernintenho ♡
You don’t want to miss ‘The Curtain Call Tour’. Come witness us performing loud pissed off rock and roll, destroy drum kits, jumping from balconies and risk our lives for your amusement. #PalayeRoyale #AndyBlack #WilliamControl #live #Tour #dontfeelquiteright
I spied Amren perched on the ledge of a turret balcony, cleaning her nails.
Varian leaned against the threshold of another tower balcony within jumping range–and I wondered if he was debating if he could clear the distance fast enough to push her off.
A cat playing with a dog– that’s what it was. Amren was practically washing herself, silently daring him to get close enough to sniff.
“Can you take this case, Sherlock? There’s been a spate of suspicious deaths at a private psychiatric hospital.” Sherlock freezes and John looks at him in concern. “No, I can’t,” replies Sherlock. John glances at the name on the file Greg is holding out to the detective. He realises it was the same place Mycroft had told him that Sherlock had been admitted to, when he was a teenager. “Sorry Greg, you’re on your own for this one,” says John firmly as he ushers the DI out of the door. He then spends the rest of day with Sherlock curled up in his lap, stroking his curly hair and reassuring him that John will never let anyone send Sherlock there again.
My group and I were in the opening stages of a campaign and we needed information that would lead to my character’s, a warforged, creator. However, the dwarf who was to give us the information made us swear to kill the oppressor of his town before he gave us anything. The catch: the oppressor was a were-bear at least 5 levels ahead of our average party level. So we devise a plan to sneak up on him in his study using my character as a pulley system. I was to jump off of the roof with a rope tied to me so that when I jumped the balcony would collapse, the were-bear would be stunned, and the party could ambush the were-bear from their hiding spot. That did not happen. Instead, as I go to jump, the gm rolls for me as I was over Skype and I crit my jump roll. The gm tells me I trip and begin falling like a brick from the roof of the building, seemingly failed my jump. The table was outraged and cried foul. The gm just said, “Wait for it.” He then mentions that the were-bear walks onto his balcony from the adjoining office where I am about to crash. I hit the were-bear, we both fall off of the balcony, and I land on him again; the were-bear’s spine is snapped and his heart exploded. I killed a were-bear 5 levels higher than the party in one hit. We then hit level 4.