#they’re aggravating little shits to me. they make me wanna jump and dance

[v7n5]

Married life

This scene has been tormenting me today.

I’ve read fics where the topic of marriage is something so very foreign and alien to them. They aren’t totally against it, they just don’t see it happening, or it just doesn’t roll off the tongue, much as it hurts to merely gaze at one another (an “I love you” between these fuckers can make me stop dead in my tracks) And tbh I find that really fitting for them, and strange in an endearing way. The exploration of that part of their relationship was something I didn’t know I needed. It’s like they become so much more tender and may I even say vulnerable in the face of it, to the point of them not really knowing what to do about it, which led me to recognizing that it could actually be a big deal for them and not only something that has a 50% chance of ending in disaster. I mean what is marriage if not two people being able to meet in the middle and really see each other and stay committed after that? And to witness that happening between Jack and Tyler? Truly a novelty.

[khrsecretsanta]

To: Pickingweeds (Choi)

ARC 1 - COMING SOON!!!

ARC 2 - Crismalsnowburst (Hana)

Arc 2! @Pickingweeds I really had fun with this one! I hope you have a wonderful holiday <3

ARC 3 - Raineynight713 (Rainey)

Hello, this is my Arc 3 gift for Pickingweeds (Choi)! I hope you enjoy it!

So they slept together occasionally. That didn’t mean anything. They were adults, and neither of them were unattractive, and it was convenient. Romance didn’t even enter into it.

Damn Bianchi and her romance obsession.

“Oh Hayato, I’m so happy you found love young. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you, little brother,” she said sappily as she pulled him into a choking hug. He gasped, trying to claw his way out of her grasp.

“What’re you talking about, you crazy woman?!” he growled as he patted his suit down to remove any wrinkles caused by the sudden attack of affection.

“Why, this of course!” She brandished a magazine and waved it in his face until he grabbed it irritably and read the title of the article it was opened to.

“Couples Bucket List? What does this have to do with anything?”

“I saw you reading it earlier, Hayato. Don’t think you have to hide it from me, I’ll never turn you away because of who you love,” she proclaimed dramatically, clutching his lapels. He tried to brush her away to no avail.

“Look, I don’t know how you know about that, but love doesn’t enter into it. It’s an understanding between coworkers, that’s all,” he gritted out as his face turned red.

Bianchi gave him a knowing look, made all the more aggravating because she was wrong, before turning dramatically away. “Whatever you say, dear Hayato. But remember, the bud of love can only bloom when given sweet nourishment and delicate care.”

Hayato was left standing in the middle of the corridor, befuddled, holding the stupid magazine, and wondering if that had been an innuendo, or if his sister was just nonsensical.

For days, he hadn’t been able to put it out of his head. The question would lurk in the back of his thoughts, waiting until he’d almost forgotten about it, then strike. Was he in a relationship with the Baseball Idiot? Surely not, they just slept together, they didn’t do couple-y things.

_________

Number 36. Horseback Ride on the Beach

“This isn’t what I had in mind when I told you to make sure we had a getaway vehicle, you moron!” Hayato screamed, in a not at all high pitched voice, from where he was clutching onto Takeshi for dear life. Bullets were hitting the sand around them, spraying it into the air as they charged down the beach.

His very valid criticism was met with laughter, of course. “Mah, I didn’t know you had a preference. You didn’t say earlier,” Takeshi said with a smile. Hayato couldn’t even see his face, since he was riding behind him on the horse, but he just knew there was a big smile on the idiot’s face. He could feel a vein in his forehead throbbing.

“I didn’t think I needed to, it should be understood that when I said getaway vehicle I meant a car, not a fucking horse!” Hayato devolved into Italian curses, which garnered more laughter.

“Haha, it’s rude to talk about people in languages they can’t understand Hayato.”

“That might be true, but don’t even fucking try to tell me you don’t speak Italian, you-” Hayato’s angry shouting was cut off when Takeshi spoke again.

“So would this be a bad time to tell you I don’t know how to drive a horse?” The idiot didn’t even have the decency to sound ashamed.

“You don’t drive a- wait, what did you just say?!”

If they both made it out of there alive, it would be a miracle.

Number 48. Cliff jump while holding hands

The screams had died down behind them, leaving only burning wreckage behind. Unfortunately, their bikes had been casualties of an explosion, and one of the guys had gotten off a signal for reinforcements before meeting a swift end on Takeshi’s blade. They’d been forced to run through the forest at the back to escape.

“Ch, I don’t know what those bastards thought they’d get, doing sick shit like that on Vongola turf,” Hayato huffed as they ran.

“Haha, yeah, it was pretty dumb,” Takeshi answered with a grin. His voice abruptly darkened for his next words. “They’re lucky it was us that was sent to dispatch them and not Mukuro. He doesn’t take kindly to human experimentation. He’d have their brains leaking out their ears.”

Hayato couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his back at that tone of voice. It always did something for him when the Baseball Idiot got into one of his dangerous moods.

They abruptly pulled to a stop when the ground they had been running along dropped sharply off into a cliff that ended in a large lake.

“Huh, I don’t remember this being in the area maps we received, do you?” Takeshi asked, ruffling his hair in consternation.

“No, it wasn’t. Must be pretty recent. How to get around…” Hayato wracked his brain to find a way out of their situation.

“We could just jump,” Takeshi suggested nonchalantly, his smile growing when disbelieving eyes were turned on him.

“That’s at least a two story drop, there’s no way we’d make that, plus we have no idea if there’s rocks at the bottom. How in the world do you think we’re gonna survive that?”

“I think I can use Rain flames to get us down safely. I mean, in theory.”

“In theory?! Theory isn’t gonna mean shit when we’re splatted-” Hayato’s rant was cut off when Takeshi grabbed his hand and leaned in for a quick kiss.

“Trust me?” he asked with a warm smile.

Hayato huffed. The idiot already knew the answer to that question. He tightened his hand, and the next moment, they jumped.

Number 63. Kiss in the rain

“Ugh, it’s been raining for days. I hate the fucking rain,” Hayato grumbled as he walked across the courtyard. There was no point to ducking under an awning to escape the downpour, he was already soaked.

Strong arms encircled his waist and a familiar body molded itself to his back. Warm breath tickled his ear.

“But you love fucking the Rain, right?” Takeshi asked teasingly, a wiggle of his hips making absolutely sure Hayato couldn’t miss his meaning.

“Really? That’s the line you’re going with? Try a little harder, Baseball Idiot,” was the snide reply.

“Aww, c’mon Hayato, I just got back from my mission. I missed you,” Takeshi whispered into his ear, leaving light kisses on his earlobe and starting down his neck.

Hayato ruthlessly suppressed the smile threatening to show. “You should go to bed if you just got back, idiot.”

“But Hayatooo, I’ve been thinking about you all week,” he whined piteously.

“If you’ve been waiting for a week, you can wait a few more hours. Some important paperwork just came in regarding an alliance Juudaime has been working towards,” Hayato told him firmly.

Takeshi huffed, clearly realizing he wasn’t going to win that argument. “Fine, but at least give me a little sample to tide me over.”

Before Hayato could ask what he meant, he was being turned around and pulled to Takeshi’s chest. Warm hands slid slowly down his sides, over his hips, and landed on his ass, where they pulled him even closer and copped a generous feel while his lips were caught in a kiss.

The kiss didn’t last for more than a moment, but it was enough to leave him breathless. Takeshi smirked down at him. “Alright, I’m off to bed. I’ll see you later, Hayato.” With a wink, he was off, and Hayato was left to hurry inside out of the rain. The sooner he finished with work, the sooner he could teach that idiot a lesson about teasing him.

Number 61. Slow dance

The Christmas Gala was packed, just like all Vongola events were. Juudaime would be happy, he’d organized the event specifically to raise funds for charity.

The guardians were keeping watch around the ballroom (excluding Hibari, who Juudaime had tasked with patrolling the grounds for the sake of everyone). There usually was at least one bastard willing to try something at these things, but so far there’d been no trouble. Maybe it was the holiday spirit infecting everyone and making them practice goodwill to all men or something. Hayato didn’t really care, so long as no one ruined the event Juudaime had worked so hard on. His fingers itched for some dynamite at the thought of some bastard trying just that.

“May I have this dance?” A deep voice asked from beside him, and he whipped around, ready to turn the invitation down with prejudice before he realized who was asking.

“Oh, it’s you. I thought it was some other idiot,” Hayato said, catching Takeshi’s smile and cursing his fair skin when he felt himself flush lightly.

“You’re seeing other idiots? I thought you were a one-idiot kinda man,” Takeshi teased, using Hayato’s spluttering as an opportunity to lead him onto the dance floor and wrap his arms around his neck, encouraging Hayato to put his own around Takeshi’s waist.

“Most guys here would make it some kinda dick measuring contest, trying to figure out who could lead,” Hayato said, tightening his arms as he resigned himself to dancing. Takeshi snorted, burying his face in Hayato’s hair to muffle it.

“Yeah, but most guys here can probably dance better than me,” Takeshi said with a smile.

Hayato rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that, idiot.”

“Mmm, your idiot,” was the whispered reply. He almost said something sarcastic, but instead decided it was a better idea to kiss Takeshi until they were both out of breath.

_________

Damn it, they were a couple. He hated it when Bianchi was right. She was always so smug about it.

Biting his lip in indecision, he decided to hell with it and shot Takeshi a text.

10:16am, Me: hey, you wanna go out for dinner w me tonight??

10:16am, Baseball Idiot: YES :DDDD

Snorting, he turned his phone off and got back to work. It was a busy day, so he’d have to hurry if he wanted to finish in time to get ready for his date.

_________

List can be found here: https://bucketlistjourney.net/couples-bucket-list-things-to-do/

[theboykingofhell]

(acting anon from earlier!!) i read ur whole thing and its FILLED with rly good info ty!! im british and im looking to start getting into acting but i always shyed away from it in schools etc cause there's always be a dance side to it and :/ no ty id rather eat nails than dance ever. but im rly interested in the acting techniques n stuff u mentioned and id defo read as many posts abt it as u wanted to write :0 ty for your time!!

OK YEAH now that i actually have time and by that i mean i have no time there’s like three things i’m supposed to be doing rn but i want to stall starting them lmfao I’MMA TALK MORE ABOUT THIS RN

imma be real i cant remember all the things i mentioned in that post i wrote and i cant be bothered to go back and look so IF YOU EVER HAVE A SPECIFIC QUESTION LITERALLY ASK ME ANY TIME

oooooooooooh... yeah.. love... babe.... go to acting schools lol it’s not even JUST the fact that they literally teach you how to act but. you. need to network. god. especially since you ARE british, acting schools are very important because a lot of companies will pretty much hire you based on what school you went to. just the short amount of time i was there made this VERY obvious that it is VERY hard to get picked up by a company if you haven’t gone to school, and getting picked up by a company is how you get consistent theater work for YEEEEEEARS...!!! also, usually a school will give you a rly good chance to network by having some sort of showcase at the end where you can get in contact with a bunch of agents and the more famous the school, the more agents see your work and try and help you out!!!!

and, like... the whole dance bit is just a hurdle you’re gonna have to jump. it’s def rly important to just partipate in the classes, you don’t have to be GOOD but it gives you just that little bit of awareness over your body and your movement that you might not have had before and that’s rly important, especially on the stage!! i felt the same way about singing but, man, the more you work at it, the more mangeable it gets. and you don’t want to have this grudge on you forever because it’ll really limit your work :/

but i mean man you don’t actually have to, there’s no set way to become an actor! if you find work, you have that work, it doesn’t matter how you get there t b h. i just think it helps and the more skills you acquire, the better of a chance you have to get that work...

(i RLY suggest lamda, it’s a hard school get into but it’s one of the best if not the best and also the education is beautiful and ALSO lamda-trained actors get the most consistent work because the uk just nuts all over itself about lamda-trained actors)

BUT YEAH. ACTING TECHNIQUES. GONNA FINALLY ADD A CUT LOL

i’m only gonna talk about these vaguely cuz tbh i’m not as ~studied~ as i should be because i’ve been far too lazy until now to actually sit down and read acting textbooks but HERE’S THE GIST....

stanislavsky is like... pretty much the most well-known most taught acting technique. so many of the other techniques you learn BUILDS on his work. there’s a huge range of shit that he’s got to offer because his and later similar teachings are SO focused on realism (which tbh is a very new thing in acting), but some of the most important is stuff like emotional recall and objective work aaaaand character building by using yourSELF and projecting it onto the character. it’s a very psychological form of acting and it’s... MY BASIS but not actually my fave!

now, a lot of parts of it is very useful. emotional recall, for one, is SUPER nice. it’s a very good way to build that vulnerability up, tear down a lot of walls and explore how to summon emotions up....

my first exercise with stanislavsky, i remember them making us lie down and pretty much meditate, and then you listened as the teacher described a bunch of things: your favorite beach as a child and what it felt like, all these sensory memories about the smells and tastes and sights of the beach. and then it moved on to the night of your first kiss, your first love, and then your first loss. a nice basic range of basic emotions, and then you build on that.

stanislavsky (and stuff like uta hagan who wrote a RLY great book that i havent finished reading yet but it’s a GREAT way to rly build on the technique) rly encourages taking yourself and putting it into the character. SO!!!! if your character is going through their first break-up, summon the feelings and memories of your first break-up and push that into your lines, so on and so forth.

the big criticism with stanislavsky and all the techniques like them is that it COULD be very unhealthy for you... considering it’s all about reliving and reliving old memories. and i agree, i mean, one of my favorite plays and one of my monologues of choice for auditions is from a play where the main character is kidnapped and raped, and i’ve been kidnapped and raped before so i am CONSTANTLY and purposely triggering myself just to perform that monologue well. THAT AIN’T RIGHT! helps tho! 

(stuff like method acting falls under stanislavsky and his successors strasberg and stella adler, so....! you can see why not everyone fucks with it)

MY criticism about stanislavsky, which is why it doesn’t work as much for me, is that it’s very VERY heavily text-based. uhhh THIS IS LONG ALREADY SO SOMEONE SEND AN ASK ABOUT OBJECTIVES AND I’LL EXPLAIN but they want you to do a lot in the moment that makes it very distracting if you don’t have this process pinned down and that’s AGGRAVATING FOR ME ANYWAY

chekov is another technique that’s interesting, again not a fave but VERY helpful. this one builds character more from the outside in, it’s all about like... a lot of very subtle details that you can add to the background to add color to your performances. a lot of it is about atmospheres, attitudes, body language, and how that affects your character and how your character is thinking through the scene. it’s VERY reactionary and very fun because you don’t have to think NEARLY as much. 

pretty much you form... gestures, or moods for your characters, and instead of perfoming an ‘action’ (stanislavsky thingy, i’ll explain that in another post i guess), you’re using this ‘gesture’ to explain yourself. it is far FAR more abstract than stanislavsky, which is a lot more technique and exact, and it’s very vague, which does make it very hard for people. it also doesn’t stress realism like stanislavsky and company does, so it’s not as popular at the moment!

 meisner technique is my second favorite technique and kind of hard to explain because i haven’t rly gotten a comprehensive course in it yet besides a few workshops and activities, but it’s a technique that stresses STRESSES ‘listening’. that’s something you hear a lot as an actor, it’s one of the hardest things to really get but it’s also, truly, the essence of good acting. you can’t be a good actor if you don’t listen, because if you don’t listen, you’re not in the moment, and if you’re not IN the moment, you’re just... reciting lines!!!

it’s so hard to explain so i’mma link a cute video i just found because it shows a lot of variety and also shows the actors messing up a lot and it’s cute omfg

it focuses a lot of repetition (either of the same one line for each person or they’re both doing the same line back and forth) which forces the actor to not think about what’s being said but how it’s being said. you’re stuck in the moment because you KNOW what you’re gonna say, you don’t have to worry about saying anything else, all you gotta worry about is what the other person does and how you’re gonna react to it. if they suddenly start screaming in your face UHH YOU’RE GONNA SCREAM BACK HOW DARE YOU? and it’s automatic and SO natural and that’s why i love it, because you don’t have to THINK through it. you don’t rly think through your life like they make you do in other techniques, so i adore the ability to not have to do that on stage.

however i’ve never gotten far enough in the technique to find out how to apply it to a set script but it might just be about building that openness to just... DO and BE and let whatever happens happens, which is NICE

LAST THING THAT I’LL TALK ABOUT IS FUCKING GROTOWSKI YE  S. ok so a lot of techniques overlap, so by this i’m also talking about lecoq and peter brook’s acting techniques. it’s all physical theatre which is all about the GROTEQUE and like UGH there’s so many fascinating things honestly just google ‘theatre of cruelty’ because it’s FASCINATING

the emphasis is... not rly on realism altho the acting i’ve seen come out of it is the most realistic i’ve seen? it’s rly gritty and about accessing the most... EXTREME of emotions, it’s about rly grasping human nature and twisting it and bringing it on stage. peter brook especially (who has a book called the empty stage or something like that that i got to read) stresses that... theatre shouldn’t be about costumes and sets and whatever, it should be just about the actor, and that you can do a PERFECTLY GOOD show with a completely empty stage, with just the actor in the center.

it also has an emphasis on YANKING the audience into the show and being very interactive and like... nothing’s held back, it should be hard to watch, THEATRE SHOULD BE CATHARTIC AND FUCKED UP AND YES.

so physical theatre involves pulling emotions from the body through your movement. life isn’t just about the mind, after all, your body holds emotions through it, there’s chemicals and hormones and what your body does on its own and against other bodies and just. again, hard to explain so HERE’S SOME COOL VIDS THAT SHOWS DIFFERENT TECHNIQUES AND COMPARES THEM ALL

i lied there’s one more technique i wanna mention: it’s called alba emoting! it, again, builds on the idea that trying to access emotions through the brain is UNHEALTHY AND DANGEROUS and that you can, instead, try and access it through the body! how???? cuz emotions are PHYSICAL. you feel sadness and anger and love and whatnot in your gut and chest and through your head and all through every nerve in your body, right????? so why not try and mimic that for the stage???

it’s SUPER COOL because! what you do with alba emoting is: affix yourself a certain way. it involves certain body postures or positions, certain expressions sometimes... EVERY time it depends upon a different breathing pattern... and all you gotta do is do it. and your body doesn’t know better, it gets tricked into it...!

so, if i were to alba emote fear... it’s hard to describe through text rather than do it but this one might be the clearest one... part of the positioning is to have your hands up in front of you, as if you’re trying to ward someone off or shield yourself. you have your mouth open, you have your eyes stuck to the floor in a submissive sort of way, (there’s more that i cant describe but then) you start to make yourself hyperventilate by taking short, quick breaths through your mouth. after a few seconds of this, your body just starts SHOOTING adrenaline through you because it starts thinking WHOA SOMETHING BAD’S HAPPENING I’M AFRAID?FUCKFUCKFUCK

and that continues until you stop! you can stop at any time and then just go. you get left with a ‘residue’ (which is very chekov in nature in that it ‘colors’ your performance) where you can just act and do the lines and do your actions (stanislavsky) without worrying about needing to push any fear into yourself because it’s THERE, it’s PRESENT and whatever happens in the scene will either alliviate it or make it worse!!!

it’s a BEAUTIFUL way to prepare for a scene right before you go on stage too omg. last semester we were doing julius ceasar, and there was a scene where i had to play a servant who just witnessed a murder and just. go in and beg for my life and the life of my master. so i did the fear emote, and then my friend (playing my master at the moment) decided to talk to me in character and give me the order to throw myself in front of the murderers and LMFAO by the time i ran on there i was like fucking in tears i was so terrified HA

THERE ARE SO MANY MORE TOO IT’S SO FUN YOU JUST GOTTA GO AND SEE WHAT WORKS FOR YOU WHOO!!!!!! HOPE THIS WAS FUN AND HELPFUL YES

[5hfanfiction]

I Know The Sound (2/2)

“Come onnnnn Walz, we’re right down the street. Pleeeeease?”

“You know I’m recording an album, China, and so are you guys!” Camila sassed into the receiver.

“Well lunch is a thing! Plus we haven’t seen you since the award show and that was like two months ago! We miss you, pleeeeease?" Camila could actually hear Dinah pouting on the other side of the phone. Camila already knew she was going to say yes the moment the Polynesian asked, but hearing that her former band members missed her made her heart break a little bit.

”.. Even Normani?“ Camila asked shyly.

"Yes, Chancho, even Normani.”

Camila sighed, pretending to be aggravated, “Ugh, fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“YAAAASS BOO BOO!” Dinah yelled, making Camila rip the phone away from her ear so she didn’t lose her hearing. “I’ll see you there, love you!”

“Yeah yeah, love you too dork.”

-

Camila was sure this was going to be the most awkward experience of her life.

Yes, she had talked to them at the afterparty, but that was a party. This was a casual setting, where it would be just them, and they would actually talk.

‘Oh god what if they secretly hate me and just want to humiliate me? What if I fall and eat shit in front of them!’ She thought. 'Wait, no, I did that all the time.’

She continued thinking an abundance of irrational thoughts as she walked down the sidewalk towards the diner they agreed to meet at. She opted to walk rather than drive so that she could have the time to calm herself down enough to sit at a table with her former bandmates.

As she pushed through the door, she saw the girls sitting at a table, talking animatedly about something (probably what meal was better). As she walked towards them, Normani’s noticed her first, a wide smile growing on her face.

“Mila you made it!!” Normani got up excitedly, running up to the Latina and wrapping her in a big hug. Camila wrapped her arms around the taller girl, giggling into her shoulder as the other girls rammed into them, creating one big group hug.

“We missed you so much!” Ally yelled excitedly as they all pulled away. Camila hugged each of them individually, Dinah picking her up and swinging her around in circles as they hugged.

“I missed you guys too, you have no idea,” Camila spoke honestly as they sat down.

“So how’s recording been?” Dinah asked her as all of the girls turned their attention to the brunette.

“Oh god it’s been insane. I thought recording my first album was stressful but this is just.. a mess,” Camila laughed.

“Your first album was so great though!” Normani complimented

“Yeah I couldn’t stop listening to it when it released. I had it on repeat for a while, to be honest,” Ally chimed in.

“You guys listened to my album?” Camila asked, slightly shocked.

“Are you kidding? We each bought it the minute it released!” Dinah yelled as the other girls nodded.

“I loved Only Told The Moon, Camz,” Lauren said as she smiled at her, making Camila’s heart swell with happiness.

“Oh my god, you guys! You’re gonna make me cry!” Camila pretended to wipe a tear from her eye, making her former bandmates laugh. “But what about you guys? How’s the new album going for you?”

“Well now that we’ve found our sound as a four piece and have defined our sound, we’re having a much smoother process in the studio. Plus we’re still touring from our last album and so it’s just so much fun,” Lauren spoke animatedly, making Camila smile.

“Okay but for real, H4RMONY was such a good album! Like Dinah your runs were insane and Normani always knows how to kill a whistle note and Ally your lower register was so refined and Lauren your raspy voice kills me literally every time. I loved the whole thing so much.”

“Hey Camila, you wouldn’t wanna maybe come to our show, would you?” Ally asked, the other girls looking at her expectantly.

“Of course I’d love to come! That would be absolutely perfect, thank you guys,” Camila beamed at them.

As their food arrived, they continued to talk as though they were still a group together, like nothing had changed. Camila took a moment and looked around the table, smiling warmly. She was incredibly thankful that there was no awkwardness or tension any longer between them and she could spend time with the girls she calls her sisters once again.

-

Camila was backstage at Fifth Harmony’s concert, where tens of thousands of people were gathered outside, ready to watch them slay on stage. The brunette had just walked around, observing the venue while the girls got their hair and makeup done, until Dinah came up to her like a whirlwind.

“Here Mila, hold this!”

Camila was confused as Dinah thrusted a mic pack, earpiece, and a mic into her hands while she shook out her mane of hair. Dinah stood up straight, looking into a mirror as she made sure her ensemble looked right, before flashing the Latina a smile.

“Thanks Mila!” Dinah said as she walked away without taking the items from Camila’s hands.

“Wait Dinah you need these!” She called after her.

“No I don’t,” Dinah winked at her, making Camila completely confused.

“Just listen for you cue, babe,” Lauren came up behind her, making the brunette jump from the surprise.

“What cue! What the hell is going on?” Camila questioned loudly, making the other four girls laugh at her.

“Trust me honey, you’re gonna have fun,” Ally placed a hand on her arm, smiling at her, before they went on stage.

Camila grumbled as she put the mic pack in the back of her pants and the earpieces on. She watched as her former bandmates absolutely kill the stage, and it hit her how much she missed being out there with them. She’s glad they’re still killing it without her, but it’s times like these that she wishes she didn’t leave. While she doesn’t regret having her own career, she just misses the feeling of having her girls beside her when she stood under the spotlight, rather than just being alone.

She watched intently as they finished performing Work From Home, the song they usually end their concerts to. But instead of coming off stage, the music ended and Dinah yelled, “HOW ARE Y'ALL FEELING OUT THERE?!” The crowd screamed back at her enthusiastically. Camila yelled with them, smiling proudly at how confident Dinah has become on stage.

“Now normally we would be off the stage by now, as you all have probably seen on the internet. But tonight we wanted to give you a little something special” Ally began.

“We want to sing one of our very first songs for y'all,” Normani chimed in, smiling brightly as the crowd cheered louder. “However, we won’t be doing it alone.”

Lauren smirked at the crowd, “I wanna welcome to the stage an incredibly talented artist, and one of my best friends, Camila Cabello!”

If Camila thought the crowd was loud before, she was proved dead wrong. The cheers were almost deafening as she walked out onto the stage, beaming at the crowd and joining the girls. As she reached them, they brought her in for a group hug, making the crowd scream even louder.

“Hit it boys!” Dinah yelled.

Camila almost started crying as she heard the beginning of Better Together play. The girls stayed by her side as Lauren began singing her solo, bumping her hip against the brunette’s, making the Latina laugh loudly. Normani chimed in after her, twirling her around as she sang. Ally actually sang her solo to her, which actually made her tear up as she smiled at her favorite ball of sunshine.

As the chorus came up, Camila worked on autopilot. The girls sang all of their harmonies without flaw, falling into their old rhythm as a quintet. They danced dorkily on stage with each other, as though no one was watching, and Camila couldn’t help but feel whole again.

Camila sung her solo without even a second thought, the girls coming in with their harmonies perfectly.

They sang the entire song like this, doing all of the ad libs and harmonies and even some of the original choreography. The crowd was absolutely losing it, but they couldn’t care less.

Camila grinned as she took everything in. Everything felt so right, like it was the X Factor days, when all they had to worry about was singing with each other and having fun. In that moment, it was just the five of them. And they truly were better together.

-

A/N: I had to make this a two shot. I got the idea to continue it and it just wouldn’t leave my head so have some more OT5 trash

I love you all and please take care of yourselves ❤️❤️

-Katie

(As always, you can read my works on wattpad here)

[grumkin]

Early, Brooklyn, Present Day

On my seventeenth birthday, my mother sent me to a psychic. It was the summer after my high-school graduation, and I was having some trouble deciding what to do with my life. Summertime in Brooklyn—the street trees fluffy with leaves, sparkling soda can discards glinting in the gutters, loud music pouring from every open window—is not conducive to buckling down and becoming a grown-up. Under the magnet on the fridge, Mom left a note that said, You have a noon appointment at La Botanica Divino Nino. You better go. Happy Birthday Love Mom. It was hot and humid that morning and although the light that pierced the curtains threatened to aggravate my headache, I put on some sunglasses, slipped on my flip-flops, and left the apartment.

           The seer operated in the back of a Dominican botanica in Brooklyn, a few blocks away from where we lived. The sign in the window flashed neon green and pink: Psychic – Palms Read – Futures Told. The seer had a slight mustache and a tragic dye job. She gripped my hand to her billowing chest as I entered the door, and cried, “My dear, I have just forseen your death!”

            I stumbled across the peeling linoleum threshold. The walls were lined with shelves containing cardboard boxes labeled in Spanish, and pungent incense wafted from a small cauldron on top of the glass display case. The seer dragged me to rest on a squeaky folding chair.    As my eyes adjusted to the dim interior, I saw my mother, Agatha, sitting in the corner, smoking and pretending to read, and I jumped almost out of my chair. She was always doing stuff like this. It was very exasperating, and hard on my nerves. While I was startled, I wasn’t surprised.

           “Mom!”

           “What? I’m reading, leave me alone.” Mom burrowed back into her book, something called Dancing with Depression, like she just happened to decide Divino Nino was the best place to catch up on her mental health. Puff-puff.

           The seer took my hand again and shook my arm a little. “Don’t you want to know the date of your death?”

           “I’m not sure I do,” I said.

           “Early,” my mother barked, “Do you want to know what it is to really live?” She shook her thick grayish-blonde braid over her shoulder and glared at me through her reading glasses.

           I, who had been listening to Rihanna, smoking cigarettes, and playing solitaire on my bed only hours before, felt this question was unfair. “Mom, could you just give me a break, please?”

           Mother believes. In all kinds of things. Psychics are high on her list. She loves the famous television psychics. She believes in television, too. She believes in angels, guardian angels, one or many of which we all have. She believes in past lives. She believes in children. She believes in the benefits of grapefruit for the digestive system. She believes in vitamins. She believes in inner light. She believes in Jesus. Mother is credulous. Mother believes there is a cure for everything.

           The seer wanted to get back on task. “I am Madame Borbala, and I see your future. Listen to me, I have foretold the hour of your death, but not its nature.”

           “You haven’t even read my palm yet; how have you foretold anything?” I looked around for cards or a crystal ball or other kind of divinatory device but saw only the bare card table, shelves full of tiny bottles, and an army of red and black candles marching in rows along one wall.

           Mom rolled her eyes at me. “This one, she doesn’t believe anything you tell her,” she said to Madame Borbala.

           “They’re so difficult at this age,” the Madame agreed. She turned my hand over and peered at my palm. “Yes, it’s very clear, here; you can see the indication on your life line. Your death,” she announced, “will be one year from now, on your eighteenth birthday.”

           “I’m hungry,” I said, gently pulling my hand out of her grasp. “Mom, can we go? I could eat a hamburger so fast right now.”

           “She’s gonna eat me out of house and home,” my mother groaned through the incense and cigarette smoke. “It’s like she’s got a bottomless stomach.” Madame Borbala made sympathetic noises. “I’m convinced she has a worm.”

           “Mom, I’m leaving now.”

           Mother sighed and tucked her book into her purse, stubbing out her cigarette into a straggly potted plant beside her. “Thank you Madame, you’ve been really helpful.”

           “No problem.” The seer nodded graciously.

           My mother discussed all of my problems with the neighborhood.  Madame Borbala probably knew all about what mom called my ‘rebellious ways,’ and not in the psychic sense, either. No, my mother had a big mouth. My drinking! My smoking! My habit of staying out till all hours of the day and night! I’m sure she told her friends all the details of my bad attitude.

           I spent the next few days considering the possibility that I might die in a year; that I might ever die at all. I have to say I just didn’t believe it at first. What teenager ever thinks she’s mortal? I ate my hamburger; later I went swimming with George at the community pool; and I forgot about the visit to Madame Borbala.

             Fast forward to this year. Brigit and I meet on June 14, at Dunkin Donuts next to the hospital. Supposed to be studying for Regents exams, I have taken to spending the mornings at Dunkin Donuts, reading books and getting hopped up on the iced hazelnut blend. DD is across the street from my apartment, and it’s got A/C, and one of the girls who works there was my partner in Earth Science before she dropped out, so they let me stay as long as I want. I always sit in the window booth, and before I met Brigid, I read and watched the street and watched my own reflection in the glass. I saw her, a tall girl with pink hair and big tits, come in almost every day. Her tattoos were kind of intimidating, and she held her mouth in a tough way, so I pretended not to notice her. Then one day she just plunked down next to me with her coffee.

           “Can I sit with you?”

           I startled and pulled myself out of my book. She was looking at me as if she expected me to say no.

           “Sure,” I said.

           “So what’s your deal?” she asked.

           “I don’t have a deal.”

           “Everyone has a deal. What are you reading?”

           Reluctantly, I showed her the cover of my book. Suddenly Psychic; a Skeptic’s Journey. “I got this one off of my Mom’s bookshelf.”

           Brigit nodded and said, “That’s cool,” in a way that didn’t make me question if she meant it.

           “What’s your deal?” If everyone had a deal, she was sure to have one as well.

           Brigit was an outpatient at the hospital’s psych ward. She came in every day for six hours of “partial hospitalization.” On her lunch break they let her come get coffee. “It’s the only drug I’m allowed to have,” she explained. “Coffee addictions are socially acceptable. Cigarettes too. Oh and the psych meds, of course! Wanna come outside and have a smoke with me?”

           I did.

           Brigit was an ex-Moonie. That is, her parents were members of the Unification Church, a religious movement started by a Korean dude named Sun Myung Moon. Members of this church think this guy is the second messiah, no shit. Brigit was brought up this way. When Brigid was ten, her parents were indicted on charges of fraud against little old ladies, and she was sent to live with her grandmother, a little old lady who was like, the OG Moonie.

“Gramma hates that I don’t believe in The Reverend any more. She’s always threatening to send me on a mission somewhere. But she won’t,” Brigit said, exhaling sharply.

“So what are you in here for?” I asked, indicating the hospital across the street. We leaned against the glass of the Dunking Donuts window and flicked ashes at the shimmering sidewalk.

           “Me? Oh, the partial hospitalization? Yeah. Um. I tried to kill myself again in March. I do it every year.”

           “How many times have you tried it?”

           “Three. Since I was fourteen. It keeps Gramma on her toes”            “In March, every year?”

           “Yeah, around there.”

           “Why March?”

           Smoke came out of Brigit’s mouth in a rush. “The spring is always a time of transformation and change for me.”

           “You’re obviously not very good at killing yourself.”            “O, I’m sure the cigs will get me one day.”

           We both took a meditative drag.

             “I hate July!” I complain to my cousin Honey, who has a straight back and a six-months-pregnant belly. It is disgustingly hot today, one day after Independence Day. The street is littered with red, white, and blue confetti. We sit on the stoop, fanning ourselves with party fliers. Honey is in her usual long white habit, which she took to wearing when she got pregnant, with a white rope tied high over her baby bump and under her rack, which is so enormous that the habit isn’t even doing a good job of hiding it. She’s practicing to become a nun, plans on entering the convent soon as she has the baby. Honey wants me to call her Clare, which is the saint name she plans to take. Everyone, in fact, has been calling her Saint Clare. Saint Clare, the pregnant teenaged nun. You could laugh, but it’s actually a shitty story, which nobody tells, as though by not telling you could, like, erase what happened to her, which involved being raped and impregnated by her own stepfather. Honey had always been religious, praying to the Heavenly Father and the Dear Lord, please this, please that, always in church, except that one fateful afternoon when she wasn’t, and after she found out she was pregnant, she decided that was all the calling she needed. Now she’s carrying her baby for Jesus.

Honey’s white hood is pushed back against her glossy dark hair, and her skin glows with a pearly sheen.  

“August is even worse!” She says, fanning herself harder, and suddenly my insides go queasy. Something ticks inside my skull and Madame Borbala comes swimming up from last summer.

           My 18th birthday is on August 13th. I’m a Leo. My little half-brother George sometimes tells me, when my hair is ‘fro-ing out, that I look like a lion. All this humidity drives my curls crazy. My mix of Dominican and Polish does not make for easy hair. If I die on my birthday, my hair better look good.

           Honey and I squint into the street and the sun presses down on us.

           “Last year a psychic told me I was gonna die on my 18th birthday.”

           Honey nods her head. “I’m pretty sure psychics are tools of the devil.”

           We contemplate that for a while. It is so hot here in this corner of Brooklyn, it is easy to believe the devil has had some influence around here. I want a cigarette but I’m trying to be good and not smoke. This morning, Mom accused me of stealing hers and if I admit it to myself, I have been doing that a lot.

           “On the other hand,” she says after a moment, “The Holy Spirit might be using this means to bring you to Jesus.”

           “I’m not sure I want to spend my last month on earth devoting my life to God.”

           “I can’t think of any better way to spend your last month on earth,” Honey says, staring nobly into the distance. She leans against the railing on the stoop, caressing her belly.  

           “You’re a little more religious than me,” I say. A cigarette would be just the thing.

           “I know,” she says, sighing. “So if not Jesus, what are you going to do with yourself?”

           “One thing for sure: if I die on my birthday, my hair better look good, “ I tell her. “That could literally take all month to achieve.”

           “You crazy-“ Honey loves calling people you crazy “- your hair better look good on your birthday whether you’re dead or not.”

           She has a point.

            “I have been thinking about it, now that it’s July,” I say. “I don’t really think I’m going to die on my birthday…but pretend I was.”

           “Are you worried you won’t go to heaven? I worry about that all the time.”

           “No,” I say, “I’m not worried about going to heaven.”            “Not at all?” She goggles at me.

           I stare back at her. “I don’t believe in heaven any more.”

           Honey turns away from me.

           “Okay, so pretend you’re gonna die in…how many days do you have?”

           “It’s July fifth. My birthday is August 13th. So that’s forty days.”

           “That’s how long it took Noah to build the ark. Or wait, was it Moses on the mount for forty days? I forget. Anyway, dang girl, you better get cracking.” She won’t say ‘damn.’

           I stare into Honey’s brown eyes.  

           “That’s what I was thinking.”

Thus the Birthday List is born. First item:

           Good hair.

  Honey leaves, hauling herself up, wiping away sweat from her forehead. She’s gotta pee, and wants to get back inside where it’s cool. She’s my uncle’s daughter, but her parents are divorced. She lives with my uncle, my missing father’s brother, Tito. She left her mom’s house after she got pregnant. My uncle lives close by, with his new wife and baby. Honey kisses me and heads down the street, slowly, her belly swinging in front of her. She’s got chores to do.