Damianya one shots ❤️

The Unexpected Truce 😯

Stage Left, Full Rage

Balcony Rehearsal – Afternoon

The stage is set for Act II, Scene II—the infamous balcony scene. Alice is already up on the platform, basking in her Juliet glow. Damian takes center stage. Anya, script in hand, stands to the side, supposed to be quiet, but emotionally? Not even close.

LOUIS
(clapping, energized)
Alright, lovers—let's feel the stars in your souls. Make me believe. Anya, you're just here to watch and take notes... for now.

ANYA
(muttering)
I'll take notes, alright. Starting with "Romeo has no taste."

ALICE
(dramatic, with fake breathlessness)
O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?

DAMIAN
(pauses, grins slightly, eyes flick to Anya)
Deny thy father and refuse thy name... or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love and I'll be yours—
coughs
—I mean, "I'll no longer be a Capulet."

ALICE
(giggling, still in character)
Was that improv?

ANYA
(snaps script closed)
Oh, is that what we're doing now? Freestyle flirting in iambic pentameter?

LOUIS
(leaning forward with popcorn)
Keep going. I love the tension.

ALICE
(eying Damian)
Should we run the kiss again? Just to get the timing right?

ANYA
(stepping forward fast)
Unless the timing is "never," maybe we skip it.

DAMIAN
(slightly panicked)
We could... you know, save it for dress rehearsal?

ALICE
Oh, don't be shy. Juliet needs her Romeo's lips.

ANYA
(stepping between them, as if by accident)
Well then, Juliet might need a restraining order too. Let's keep the 1600s PG.

Louis practically wheezes with laughter. He scribbles something in his director's notebook with suspicious glee.

LOUIS
Note to self: alternate ending—Juliet mysteriously vanishes, priest saves Romeo, crowd goes wild.

ALICE
(to Louis, annoyed)
Are you seriously encouraging this?

LOUIS
Oh, I'm directing it. With snacks.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Balcony Truce

BACKSTAGE – BETWEEN SCENES, QUIET BEFORE THE NEXT ROUND OF THEATRICAL CHAOS

The echo of Louis shouting, "This next scene needs more betrayal! But in a tasteful, jazz-hands kind of way!" fades as Alice and Anya sit side-by-side on the edge of the costume trunk.

They're still slightly out of breath from the previous scene. Anya's hair is frizzing with emotional intensity. Alice is clutching a script, dramatically bent at the corners. For once, the room is calm.

ALICE (sighs):
"That was... intense."

ANYA:
"Yeah. I think I blacked out somewhere between 'kiss me' and 'kill me.'"

They both laugh, surprised by the shared tension.

ALICE:
"Look, I know we've been sort of... tearing each other's throats out in iambic pentameter lately—"

ANYA (dry):
"Only because you were clinging to Damian like he's the last life raft on the Titanic."

ALICE:
"And you were sinking me with Shakespearean burns."

A beat. Then they smirk.

ANYA:
"Okay, fair."

A pause. It's awkward. Not hostile anymore—just weird. Like discovering your nemesis also cries at dog commercials.