amber is the one laughing high pitched go make fun of her

Desire Pt.1 (p.jimin)

Word count:1116

Notes: Co-written with @bamboree, this is our first story so feel free to check it out. This story will also be on our wattpad with the same username:@suga-babby

Summary: Amber has liked Jimin for sometime now. But unfortunately he is dating her best friend. When things start to unfold before her eyes, her life is changed. But is it for the good or the bad?

February 16th, 2016

“So what movie do you wanna watch?” My best friend Caroline asked me while she sorted out the numerous DVDs. The array of movies were in alphabetical order and she knew which one I always chose. I pointed to 50 First Dates. She sat on the floor, and I was sitting at the table making snacks for the movie.

I heard the jingling of keys and the door slowly open. I knew it was Jimin; I looked up abruptly and I glanced at the door, making eye contact with him. My heart pounded and it felt as though everyone could hear it. He flashed me a warm smile, which I returned. I left the kitchen table and then we exchanged hellos.

“Hey baby!” Caroline said, scrambling to her feet and going over to him. I turned around to face the television, hearing their lips make a smacking sound, causing me to slump slightly against the kitchen counter. Caroline, Jimin, and I go way back, and by way back I mean middle school. As the years passed, Jimin and Caroline started liking each other, and I started liking him.

It wasn’t until after we graduated, that they professed their feelings for one another. It was a year and a half ago, and it’s been that way ever since.

“So Amber, did you find what to watch?” Jimin’s voice broke my thoughts, he placed his hand on my shoulder. “Uh yeah! 50 First Dates?” He raised an eyebrow. “If that’s cool?” I hesitated as I walked over to the sofa and sat down.

Jimin took the seat next to mine,“Of course it is.” He said, smiling at me. He shifted in his seat, causing my thigh to rub against his jeans. My face turned a crimson red. “Are you sure you want to watch that?” Caroline asked, giving us a pained expression. Jimin tore his gaze from me, and looked at Caroline who was sitting on the floor, still holding the DVD in her hand.

“I mean we can watch something else.” I suggested.

“Babe, if Amber wants to watch 50 First Dates just let her.” Jimin pleaded. I was baffled that he was actually siding with me in this.

“That movie is so boring though! Plus we always watch it.” Caroline pouted, clutching her knees.

“Hey. It’s my apartment, my rules. You can choose next time, you’re always here anyway.” Jimin stuck his tongue out at her playfully.  She rolled her eyes, she knew he was right. “Okay Amber, we’ll watch your damn movie.” She said, stifling a giggle.

Jimin smiled at me, pulling me into a quick side hug. Caroline put the disc in, switched off the light and sat opposite of Jimin.


It was the part of the movie where Lucy is looking out of her boat window and isn’t in Hawaii anymore, but with Henry in Alaska. I turned over, noticing Caroline was passed out leaning on the armrest.

Jimin got up quietly as the credits rolled and began picking up stuff. He grabbed the bowl of popcorn, and some soda cans. “Amber? Can you pick up those glasses?” He asked me, gesturing to the three on the coffee table.

He threw the remainder of popcorn in the trash can, and the soda cans in the recycle. I set the glasses in the sink, and turned on the hot water. I put soap on the sponge, and Jimin stopped me. “No let me do that.” He told me as he tried to grab the sponge from my hand.

I turned around back to the sink,“It’s okay Jimin, I got it.”

“Well in that case, you forgot this.” Jimin said, placing the popcorn bowl next to the sink. His breath hit the back of my neck, I spun around and he laughed and shot me an innocent look.

I just grabbed the bowl and continued to wash, I heard him pull out a chair by the kitchen table and sit down. As I finished washing he gestured me to come sit with him. He pulled a container with dominoes and started setting up so we could play.

I laughed at him because I always beat him, and he knew that but he said he was determined to finally win. “So your birthday is coming up in a few days, what do you want to go do? Any special places you want to go?” He said putting his domino after mine.

I shrugged, “You know..I haven’t really thought about it.” I placed another domino down. “Uh huh. Well I know you really like art, and there’s a new Van Gogh exhibit downtown.”

“No way! Really?” I smiled not only was I beating him again, but at the fact he remembered. “Yeah! I can take you there..” he stuttered, “Uhh, you know Caroline and I would love to take you.”

The room got quiet, in a way that was a bit painful. I just broke the silence by replying with a quick, “That would be fun. We can all go to Yaki after for dinner.” He smiled at the idea nodding in approval looking down at the dominoes.

I pressed my home button on my iPhone and saw the time: 12:37 am. “Well friend I think I’m going to hit the road, I have to move some stuff to my new apartment later on today and I work at 6:00 in the morning. It’s not like you were going to win anyways.” I laughed and lightly pushed him.

“Oh whatever Amber, I just let you win because that’s what men are supposed to do.” We both laughed, his high pitched laugh was so contagious. We then proceeded to the door, Caroline still crashed out, and the main menu of the DVD was on a continuous loop.

He bent down turning it off. The apartment was dark, with only the light from the parking lot illuminating the room. He made his way to his doorstep where I was putting on my shoes and helped me up.

I felt weird because it was never really like this, I mean in the sense that Caroline was always there and we were never alone. Of course I expected her to be, but it felt different. We made eye contact, staying that way for a good ten seconds before we heard the couch creak as Caroline moved.

He quickly mustered up words to break the awkward silence. “Well I’ll see you later, call me if you need me to help you tomorrow!” He hugged me and I nodded, “Okay I’ll see what’s up. Goodnight Chim Chim.”

“Goodnight.” He said leading me out the door.

Originally posted by kpopidolaegyooo

Because I haven’t written anything in days, and I am quite stuck, and I just wanted to write something, so it’s CC which means it’ll get lots of secret hits (I see y’all), but at the very least I’ll have written something. Fair warning, this fic involves someone with a slight hearing disability and I am not deaf, so if I’ve gotten something wrong, please tell me! Trigger warning for vague descriptions of violence, minor character death, and PTSD. Happy CC Friday! Tagging the crew. @mahstatins @phiralovesloki @thejollypirate @pritkins-little-witch @the-reason-to-sail-home

+ The last thing he hears with any degree of acceptable functionality is that of a high-pitched ringing, accompanied very briefly by the nauseating crunch of his own bones. That eerie, high-pitched echo had vibrated within the walls of his head as if he were a tuning fork. In an odd, dissociative moment he saw himself drawn in the image of a Saturday morning cartoon. His own body boldly outlined in black, the normally drab color of his uniform practically alive with bright, living color. The sound itself was not dissimilar to the many times he had foolishly stood far too close to the shit speakers at a punk show in someone’s grimy basement. And Robin, ever the reliable man, had always gleefully reminded him that he would never experience the joy of hearing at that frequency ever again.

“Who knows,” he’d say on a laugh, “maybe you’ll actually be able to sing on key now.”

Answering with a vulgar yell (because he couldn’t quite discern the volume of his own voice), “Get fucked, mate. Truly.”

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flower crowns and pastel boots- epilogue

pastel punk au

a/n: thank you so, so much for sticking with this fic. it’s been so much fun to write. i love each and everyone of you.

thank you.

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four, chapter five,chapter six, chapter seven, chapter eight, chapter nine, chapter ten,chapter eleven, chapter twelve, chapter thirteen, chapter fourteen,chapter fifteen, chapter sixteen, chapter seventeen, chapter eighteen, chapter nineteen, epilogue

“baz, you look wonderful.”

penny jumps forward and grabs him up in a bear hug, and baz squeezes her back.

“shouldn’t you be with simon?” he teases, trying to hide the shake in his voice. she clucks at him, brushing his hair back and straightening the lapels of his suit.

“don’t be silly, i have to see you first. how’re you feeling?”

“terrified,” he confesses.

“hey, you’re going to be amazing. i promise.” she tilts her head sympathetically. “chin up, pitch, you can’t be any more of a mess than simon.”

“that’s probably true,” admits baz, attempting a grin. “where’s agatha?”

“milling around, chatting,” says penny dismissively. “being polite.”

“mmh,” baz hums, fiddling with his gloves. he smiles at penny. “go on, then, i’ll be fine.”

penny’s eyes fill briefly with tears. “i’m so proud of you both-”

baz kisses her cheek. “save it for the speech, bunce. go.”

she mock glares, and walks out the door.

“oh, god- penny, what if i mess up?”

simon’s hands are tangled in his hair, and he’s pacing the softly lit room. there are tears brimming in his eyes.

“calm down, simon.”

he moans, quietly. “what if i just left? i could just-”

“you are not going to leave your own wedding, simon.”

“i just- i don’t want to mess it up,” he repeats, quietly.

“oh, simon…” she squeezes his hand. “it’s going to be fine. you love each other.”

he nods, wipes at his eyes like he’s embarrassed. “more than anything. you’re right.” he smiles bravely. “is it about time?”

“five minutes,” she says softly. “i’d better go.” she straighten his tie, pats down his hair. “i’ve said this to baz-”

“you talked to him? how is he?”

“nervous. just like you.” she smiles. “i told him how proud i am of him. of you. you’ve changed so much.”

simon can only nod, throat choked. she kisses him on the cheek.

“good luck, simon.”

it’s like a painting.

it’s evening, and lamps hung from posts are casting a soft amber glow. there’re fireflies, too, flitting about, and white roses wreathing tables and the platform they’re going to be standing on.

and baz is standing at the end of the aisle, dressed all in white.

simon loses his breath.

baz looks up from his hands, twisted together, and they make eye contact.

and all of simon’s fear, all of his nervousness, melts away. he’s everything in the world.

he’s home.

he hardly feels himself walking up the aisle, not until he takes baz’s hands. they’re cold, as usual, and simon smiles. he’s crying. they both are.

“love you,” he whispers.

“i love you too.”

the person officiating is talking, simon thinks, but all the matters is baz’s eyes and lips and cheeks and-

“they’ve decided to say their own vows,” he says, and nods to simon.

he shakes his head, draws in his deepest breath. it’s completely silent, but for the chirp of crickets. “basilton pitch.”

his voice is trembling. he clears his throat. “basilton pitch, i-

"i thought i was going to lose you, once.” his voice cracks, and he gulps. “when we were seventeen. remember? we were all so scared- when you got-

"that’s when i realized how much you meant to me. and it scared me, because i thought it was impossible that you could love as much as i love you, back-

"but here we are, yeah?” he laughs softly. “here we are. and i love you more than anything. i promise i will keep you safe, and happy, and i’ll be with you through good times and bad. always.”

he pulls out the ring- a grey band, precisely the color of baz’s eyes, with a sapphire embedded in the middle- and slips it delicately onto baz finger. 

baz swallows hard.

“i’ve loved you for so long. i’ve loved you for so long, so much, i thought it was going to kill me. it was like fire, and i was like newspaper, and-

"and then one day it all changed. one day you loved me back. one day you came to my house at two a.m with a bottle of hair dye, and you looked at me like i looked at you, and-

"simon, i love you. so much. and i wish i could tell my sixteen year old self how this is going to turn out, because i never in a million years could have imagined myself up here, standing hand in hand with the man i love, about to be married. and i’m going to love you forever, okay? i’m going to love you until the day i die.” he voice chokes, and he ducks his head, sliding the ring onto simon’s finger. “thank you.”

there’s scattered applause from the audience, and it dies down as the officiant raises his hand.

“i now pronounce you- spouses for life.” he smiles. “you may now kiss the groom.”

they crash together, wrapping their arms around each others back. simon dips baz, and he yelps, then grins wider. the audience cheers.

i love you. i love you. i love you.

they haven’t let go of each other’s hand yet.

they weave through the crowd, talking with guests and grinning and pressing kisses on each other when they get the chance- they’re glowing. they’ve never been happier.

“it’s your turn next,” says simon to penny, and she winks at him when agatha’s back is turned.

penny clinks her fork on her class, and slowly the chatter dies down.

“simon snow is an idiot,” she begins, and everyone bursts out laughing. she waits for it to die down.

“he’s hard headed, stubborn, and he’s rude if you let him get away with it. and in high school we did, and he made baz’s life a misery.”

simon looks down at his shoes, and baz looks at his lap, and the silence is uncomfortable. 

“and then he fell in love with baz.

“he’s changed a lot, you know. from the bully who hated himself into who he is now.” she looks to be lost in thought for a moment, before she continues. 

“i’m sure you all remember when baz got kidnapped.”

everyone’s quiet. penny seems unperturbed. “i remember. it was terrifying. and baz’s dad wouldn’t go out and pay ransom, or look properly- but simon did. he got baz’s aunt and me and agatha and we scoured the whole city until they found him, and simon punched someone in the face so hard that he broke his cheekbone and three of his fingers and-

“we got baz out. and that wa the first time in a long time that i saw who simon used to be, really, when we’d play in the woods behind our houses and he’d be the hero who defeated the bad guys.” penny smiles.

“simon snow is an idiot, yes. but simon snow-pitch is not.” she raises her glass, and the guests mimic her, dabbing at their eyes. simon and baz look at each other, tears threatening.

“to love.”

they sway softly, faces inches from each others, simon’s arms around baz’s neck.

“basilton snow-pitch, i love you,” breathes simon, and baz grins.

“as i love you, simon snow-pitch.”

there’s music playing quietly- i will follow you into the dark, by death cab for cutie.

and simon reaches up on his tiptoes and kisses his husband.

they’re so happy.

Model *smut*

Author: obrosey-af

Characters: Stiles x OC

Warnings: smut and stuff

Word Count: 3,828

A/N my first au and my longest fic woohoo. Let me know what you think(: -Er

Originally posted by kalifornia---dreaming

I can’t believe I’m late on my first day.

College is not at all what I expected it to be. My older sister and her friends said it’s going to be the best four years of my life. It’s only the first day and I’m already starting to question them. Not only do I have a roommate who stays up until four in the morning watching scary movies, but I also live on the noisiest floor on campus. Flash forward a week to the first day of classes and I’m completely lost. I’ve been walking around for at least twenty minutes looking for building C, which is not anywhere near buildings B or D and I’m pretty sure I’ve passed the same water fountain three times. Looking down at a screenshot of the campus map on my phone, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going and rammed into an innocent bystander.

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obriensnipples got the prompt “competitive beach volleyball AU” and it sounded like too much fun to resist.

The big beach house vacation had been Laura’s idea; four days of swimming and surfing every day, beach campfires every night, more beach volleyball than they could handle, grilling on the patio, and excessive day drinking. Also done on the beach.

They loaded up two cars with gear, food, clothes, and alcohol, and hit the road to the coast, playing Erica’s special Sunny Beach Vacation Playlist on repeat with the windows down the entire way there.

One of the surfboards fell halfway off the car on the highway, they got lost for an hour because of Isaac and not at all because Derek refused to use the GPS, and someone (Erica) spilled red soda all over the backseat of the Camaro, but they finally made it. They were there and they could relax on the beach, and let the stresses of everyday life wash away with the waves on the shore.

It rained. Every day.

It poured, thunder and lighting, chilly and wet, keeping them trapped in their rental house just a hundred feet from the shore. It was relentless, right up until their last full day there, when Laura’s yelling through the house for everyone to get the fuck up jolted them all awake to a cloudless blue sky and a cool breeze sweeping in over the water.

They ate breakfast on the patio, Laura and Boyd got an early start with mimosas, then they packed their cooler and stormed down to the beach with every intention of cramming four days of fun into one–only to find another group of vacationers staking claim on the volleyball net.

There was a brief standoff, sizing each other up, and then they were each taking a side of the net and making introductions.

Scott seemed like a nice and easygoing guy, a paramedic as if he hadn’t seemed saintly enough, and he was the one who suggested they all play together as a friendly compromise. There was also Kira, who enthusiastically agreed, and Allison, who had a competitive gleam in her eye, so Derek immediately pegged her as his rival for the afternoon. But as soon as they started playing, he realized he was dead wrong.

Because there was also Stiles.

Derek didn’t know anything about him beyond his name, and he didn’t need to.

He hated him.

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anonymous asked:

AU where Tsunade is reborn as fem!Tsuna

Reason for AU where Tsunade is reborn as Fem!Tsuna: because I really want to how she crushes her enemies as reborn!Tsunade

Tsunade dies after a life lived to the fullest.

She remembers being the godmother to three children and teaching them secret jutsu’s that make life easier. (She might have been known more for her healing, but her teammate was Orochimaru. If Sakura or Shizune asks her about it, it was payback for giving her gray hairs during their apprenticeship.)

She remembers closing her eyes, being so tired and just releasing the Yin Seal because she didn’t have the strength to concentrate on it even while asleep.

She doesn’t remember waking up again.



Waking up a boy in a different body is a confusing thing, for everyone.

Luckily, she was young enough when her memories woke up that it isn’t so obvious for her mother than it is for her. She was the Godaime, she could master her own bowels and deal with being a boy.

(Though she adjusted, she didn’t like it. She had put in too much effort to change how people viewed kunoichi just to take the easy way out and be a boy.)

She mastered crawling very quickly due to the control of the warmth that burned inside her similar enough to chakra that she didn’t leave much thought in it. It was difficult to control though; the brilliant orange fire burned and flickered in her was large and overwhelming. It didn’t seem to have any other property aside from overwhelming. Still, she dealt with it, with a degree of concentration she usually gave to the Yin Seal.

Her mother loves this development and laughs in that airheaded way of civilians that made her skin crawl. She learns to find this endearing though, because there was no one else, not even a father, to take care of her. (It helps her to think of Naruto.

“Tsuna,” her new mother says with a cheerful smile. “I have to leave you at the daycare, okay? Mama has to go to work.”

There was a certain edge to her new mother’s smile that felt familiar. Tsuna recognized it from when her old, previous mother had gone out to do some work at the hunter-nin’s.

Tsuna cocked her head cutely to the side and giggled. It worked. Her new mother showed off a very sharp knife.

“Mama’s in-charge of cleaning up Namimori, Tsu-chan,” she explained. “There’s a lot of trash, recently, so Mama’s going to be very busy for a while.”

Tsuna had to exert supreme effort in order not to roll her eyes. Euphemisms were nice, but taking it too far was something else.

Still, it’s a nice thing to be proven wrong. Her mother isn’t actually a civilian.



Daycare proved to be a place where all toddlers were dropped off when their parents were busy.

It was filled with harassed caretakers and a mass of cute children.

It was hell.

Tsuna took one look at the roiling mass of chaos and squirmed away under the cupboard. She was kicked out within two breaths, a pudgy toddler foot pushing her away with surprising strength.

“Out,” a high pitched, irritated voice said. “er’bivore.”

Tsuna felt something bubbling up her chest, a seething irritation that she blamed on what she did next. Without pause, she bit him.

There was a high-pitched, hastily stifled cry of pain. And then the toddler went out of the cupboard and his little eyes were angry slits on his face. Tsuna felt the Hokage in her stir with interest at the potential fight.

Tsuna bared her teeth in a parody of a smile and the boy did the same. It was a wonderful afternoon spent, trying to rub each other’s faces on the floor. It reminded her of her genin team.

(Though usually, there was a third one laughing his head off as Sarutobi-sensei tried to make them stop.)



The boy’s name was Hibari Kyoya and they tried to pound each other down the floor every time they met.

It was such a strange reaction, given that the burning, the Fire, liked him. It extended wispy, grabby hands at the boy. Curiously enough, something within the boy reached back.

Unknowingly, her eyes had turned amber. Kyoya’s eyes had, in turn, turned purple.

It happened only for a moment, and then quickly ignored. They had better things to do. Like who could kick harder.



Both of them became unconventional friends the day someone tried to bully Tsuna.

It was a stupid thing, mainly something she blamed on the Fire, flaring around and attracting attention like that.

Kyoya put a stop to that and both of them spent the rest of the afternoon trying to see who can make the bully flinch the hardest. (Psychological warfare is always more fun, somehow.)



“Mama,” Tsuna said, glaring at the pants. “I don’t like pants.”

Nana, who had spent half of her pregnancy wishing for a little girl, blinks down with just a modicum of surprise and little to no resistance to the idea.

“Okay,” the woman says with a firm nod. “Then we’ll buy skirts. What color do you like?”

Tsuna thinks of the color red, the color of her old mother’s hair. She thinks of Naruto’s jacket and her apprentice’s hair.

“Red?” she said, scrunching up her nose. “Orange? Maybe pink.”

Nana laughs and buys three each.



Sawada Tsunayoshi becomes Sawada Tsuna, and then Sawada Tsunade.

Nana obliges her willful, strange daughter the change. Iemitsu, for all his failings, only blinks at the change wrought on the birth certificate and then calls home and congratulates his daughter for picking a lovely name.

Kyoya’s reaction had been to wrinkle his nose and punch her just as usual. Tsuna laughed, the bruise already blooming and punching him right back.



Sawada Tsuna was a strange child.

She was biologically a boy - but enough teeth had been knocked loose that no one mentioned that anymore – but really acted like a tomboy.

It gave people headaches. If she acted unladylike and was actually a boy, wouldn’t it be easier if she just stuck to the gender she was born with? (The people who asked that got their teeth knocked loose by Hibari, so they stopped asking too.)

She wore bright, vibrant colors that clashed, usually orange, red and pink. She was friends with a violent, half-rabid boy and both of them spent a lot of time beating up each other as much as they beat up delinquents.

But sometimes, just sometimes, sudden instances of kindness shines through and leave people scratching their heads even more.



I did my best. Totally.

anonymous asked:

Imagine if Claire was actually an English spy

MOD NOTE: Minnie and Claire are spies during the 1745 Jacobite uprising. One falls for a charming British nobel, the other for a ravishing Scots warrior. Stuck in the middle of a civil war, the two girls must choose their side. Stick to the mission at hand, or elope.

Either Side of the Line:

She was stood on a precipice, overlooking a great beyond. On one side was duty and honour, the task of which she’d been asked to perform, one she’d had no problem taking. On the other was a soul deep connection with a man. At her heart she was wild, something not to be tamed and the idea of love had always eluded her. That was until he came into her life.

Her partner in crime had the same dilemma. Love, or honour?

So much was at stake and neither of them could reason the right answer from the half-empty glasses in front of them.

The amber liquid swilled against the side, a rough sea in a condensed space, fighting to escape the confines of its glassy prison. The girls likened it to their mood.

“We should get back, they’ll be waiting for us.”

Claire looked up from her drink, her hands steady (steadier than she’d imagined they would be) as she placed the pewter mug against the heavily marked wood of the bar.

“What do we do, Minnie?” She whispered, tugging at her companion’s sleeve, urging her closer, “how do we make the right –choice?”

“We do what we’ve always done, Claire,” she hissed back, her eyes hard as she pulled her young friend from her seat, “we run.”

—- —- —-

One Year Previous:

The cobbled streets slunk down into the bowels of the city, a small rivulet of a stream wound its way through the city. The rain had been mild on their journey. Le Havre to Paris was a well travelled route and they’d been so occupied watching the hustle and bustle that they’d barely noticed it increasing the closer they got to their destination.

Minnie, as always, was knee deep in notes. Her father, being the overly cautious sort, had plied them both with reams and reams of paperwork. Ranging from details of sources to the French high society hierarchy.

They had been told, specifically, not to get in too deep. All they needed to gather was some information, and they were to do it calmly –and quietly.

Claire could tell from the naughty glimmer in Minnie’s eye that there would be little hope of that. She’d already seen the parchment with the intricate details of the French brothels where the nobles liked to gather.

“Oh, but wouldn’t it be *fun*?” Minnie twittered, her hands all afluster.

Claire, laughed. To an innocent bystander, Minnie looked like the classic English waif. All tittering laugh, wild hand gestures and airy manner. But underneath that fair facade was a viper lurking.

Minerva Wattiswade was a woman –not– to be messed with.

“I think we’re supposed to stay out of harm’s way, Minnie.” Claire castigated, a glint of humour in her eyes. She was certainly the more cautious of the pair. Torn between duty and adventure, she generally chose duty. But Minnie usually managed to break down her walls.

“Pish posh, Claire! That is for the boys. We’re ladies,” she bent closer to her partner in crime and tugged at the stray hairs that fell from Claire’s loose bun, “*we* can get under their skin and then disappear into the night.”

Claire rolled her eyes, but nodded.

“That’s what I like to see! I’ll make you completely forget about that cad of a captain. Now, you focus on the ‘who’ and I’ll see to the ‘why’.”

Conversation over, Minnie thrust a handful of pamphlets into Claire’s lap and went back to reading her own. Unable to focus, Claire switched from reading about the up and coming Jacobite rebels to watching Paris come into view.

She watched as the rainwater bobbed and weaved through the uneven cobbles, the small children skipping over them as they meandered through the streets. The trees had parted to make way for the buildings. The closer they got to their destination, the more affluent the city became.

The carriage swerved, pulling down a tight alley and slowing as it approached their apartments.

Claire gasped as she leaned out of the window to see her new home.

Minnie laughed, a high pitched girly giggle that echoed through the small carriage, amused by Claire’s awe. “Prepare yourself, mistress Beauchamp, we’re about to go –rogue–” She flung the door open and slipped from the carriage. Her skirts swished against the gravel as she rushed into the large house, leaving Claire gawping after her.

This was going to be an interesting challenge, she thought, gathering her wits (and her skirts), to follow after her erstwhile companion, up the thin steps and into the wide, open hallway.

There was to be no turning back now, Claire reconciled, as the thick wooden door slammed shut behind her with an air of finality. She turned, giving the exit a mournful look. There, she saw, engraved deep into the panels was a short piece of latin.

Carpe Noctem’, it read. A look of humourless mirth passed over her face, seize the night, indeed.

…to be continued.

Why {Jongdae Angst- Part Three}

Part 1, Part 2

He moves like water, if I’m honest.  With all the idols I’ve either watched perform or met in person, I think his skills surpass many of them.  It doesn’t matter what song it is, he pours his soul into the performance.  If he hadn’t become an idol I’m sure he would have become a backup dancer or even an instructor for an academy.  He would have been dancing no matter what and if not, it would honestly be the biggest waste of talent to have graced the Earth.

“They’re pretty amazing, huh?” Amber whispers to me.  I nod my head and lean it against her shoulder.  Ending up in SHINee’s practice room while they rehearsed choreography wasn’t how I expected to spend my day, but I was thankful for it.  

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My KCON experience:
  • bangtan sang the intro song and they were adorbs
  • block b set the mood with toy
  • zikyung action
  • ukwon was dancing alone in a corner and enjoyed himself
  • nalina started out with zico making us say nalina over and over again and it was lit
  • po let us sing his parts in her
  • ioi are fucking cute
  • one of the girls was so happy she kept on throwing hearts and waving
  • all of them were smiling because of the cheers
  • f(x) are goddesses (but we already knew that)
  • amber was so happy during the talk because of the cheers and she was so excited and went like ‘i saw y’all doing the 4walls thing in the chorus it’s was amazing’ and she was laughing
  • krystal is still awkward and shy
  • krystal called amber’s shake that brass her new single but it isn’t so she got all embarassed
  • she hugged amber from behing and yelled ‘now give it up for my member’s solo’s!!’ (she sounded like sica omf)
  • amber set the mood ofc and she was hella enjoying our chants (u should’ve seen that smile during the hey hooooo hey hoooo parts)
  • luna slayed my ass
  • talking about butts, krystal’s is amazing (i already concluded this from the london korean festival but this timE IT WAS LIKE UPCLOSE)
  • during the clapping hands (choreo) part in hot summer amber was facing us and she was all shy and embarassed
  • taeming then slayed our ass with a ballad (he’s beautiful)
  • bts set the roof on fire (FIREEEEEEEEe)
  • jimin was rude af and constantly kneeling down and doing his hair thingy (his hair was soaked from sweat help)
  • yoongi looked sleepy lol
  • jin was amazing istg he’s so beautiful
  • jimin smiled sexily at a fan (my ovaries went boom)
  • kookie’s whole appearance seems unreal
  • namjoon made the funniest face during dope (smiley face :] literally)
  • jimin was a body rolling ass during fun boys and he threw his towel at someone
  • tae threw his water like usually during fun boys and i died
  • hobi’s moves while holding the french flag daaaaaaaamn
  • honestly don’t know much about what happened with ft island bc i was sitting on the floor exhausted OTL
  • luna+taeil was beautiful, luna seemed to have tears in her eyes (she puts in so much emotion and tAEIL’S HIGH NOTE)
  • shinee rocked the place
  • key walks like a diva 
  • minho spitting fire man
  • onew hitting those notes
  • taemin slipped slightly twice (confetti :/) bUT it made him laugh (i got a picture of it)
  • i don’t understand how taemin’s body can move like that??? that boy is such a good dancer it’s unreal
  • why so serious was a screaming party
  • btw i heard everything in high pitched voices (very good was hilarious)
  • at the end everyone came on stage again
  • all of them were being cuties
  • when most of the artists started leaving the stage, bts stayed behind a bit bc hobi was entertaining us with some weird ass moves
  • jimin joined in with him
  • and then came jungkook with his infamous dance move (the one he did in the baepsae dance practice) he kept on going in circles
  • so all the members stayed and laughed with them
  • when they almost were all gone yoongi quickly waved at us again ;;
Maude Advice, Part 1: Submitting as a Writer

This will be a UCB-specific post, as the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre is where I’ve had my experience. But I hope a lot of what I write can be useful to anyone writing sketch comedy or submitting writing packets.

This is all based on my personal experience. I don’t work for UCB, I’m not a spokesperson for them, and nobody told me to do this. (Honestly, I started writing this because I’m procrastinating writing other things.)

I was first placed on a UCB Maude (house sketch) team in early 2008. I’ve decided my last show will be August 2014. I took a year off in that time period so my Maude experience is a cumulative five and a half years. I’ve been on five teams. I did my first 14 shows as a writer/actor and the other 50 (?) as a writer. I don’t know if I’m the best writer at the theatre but I’ve learned a few things over the years, so I hope I can offer some sound advice.

I’ll break these up into different posts. This first one will be about submitting to Maude as a writer. I’ll write other ones about submitting as an actor, being on a team as a writer, being on a team as an actor, and not getting on a team. And maybe other stuff too. We’ll see where the wind takes us.

I should credit the directors I’ve worked with, as a lot of what I’ve learned has come from them. They include (in the order I worked with them) Will Hines, Amey Goerlich, Greg Tuculescu, Greg Burke, Julie Klausner, John Frusciante, Jim Santangeli, Justin Tyler, Alden Ford, John Flynn, Neil Casey, Mike Trapp, Matt Fisher, Emily Altman, Lauren Adams, and Mike Scollins. And, of course, my UCB sketch teachers Curtis Gwinn and Michael Delaney. And I’ll always be thankful to Anthony King, the artistic director who put me on my first two teams, and Nate Dern, the artistic director who put me on my last three teams.


1.) Know the basics. Since there’s currently a prerequisite at UCB that you have to take a few sketch classes before you submit to be a writer on a Maude team, I assume that once you submit, you know the general guidelines about game, heightening, and proper formatting. If you don’t, take another class. I’ll go into a little more detail about game in a bit. 

2.) Go to Maude Night. This is a no-brainer. You’re required to see a few sketch shows for your classes, but go to Maude Night as often as you can. Obviously, if you want to be on a team, you should familiarize yourself with what it is. It’s good to see what kind of sketches are done at UCB. It’s a school and theater with a specific voice, and the more you see there, the more you’ll understand that voice. Sometimes this has to do with what not to do as a writer. There’s a reason why there aren’t any sketches on Maude Night where “being gay” is the game. Being gay is not an unusual (or funny) thing and therefore isn’t a strong game and wouldn’t result in a good sketch. So once you see enough sketches at Maude Night, you’ll know not to even think about submitting (or writing) a sketch where “a flamboyant guy talks with a lisp!” is the “funny” thing.

Also, pay attention to what audiences laugh at. Notice what they don’t laugh at. And remember that they are much, much smarter than they are sometimes given credit for. And for god’s sake, try not to end three sentences in a row with prepositions.

3.) Have clear, simple ideas for your sketches. What’s the game of your sketch? Can you state it simply in a sentence? Here’s something I think about a lot: is the idea of your sketch itself funny enough to make someone laugh or say “Wow, that’s a funny idea”? If so, you’re off to a good start. If you can’t state the game in a simple sentence or two, or if when you do people are confused, then your idea is muddled and you need to clarify it. Practice this with friends. Describe your games and see how they react.

If you have three unusual ideas in your sketch, that’s too many. Pick the one you think is funniest and rewrite it. One idea blown out in as many directions as possible is better than several ideas blown half-assedly. 

Starting with a good idea isn’t all you need, but it’s more important than some people might realize. One of my favorite sketches I’ve written is “Lee Harvey Oswald at the Dentist.” (Also one of the darker sketches I’ve written, which tend be my favorites.) I wrote it in 2009 while on Thunder Gulch, a silly, high-energy team where a lot of my current friendships were formed. In the sketch, it’s early morning on November 22, 1963, and Lee Harvey Oswald is a nice fellow with a dentist appointment. He is greeted in the waiting room by a precocious little boy (expertly played by Leslie Meisel) who slowly annoys the hell out of him to the point where Oswald leaves in an angry huff. I left it up to the audience to decide what happened next. It went over really well. And the idea of the sketch alone – just describing the premise – has made people laugh. I remember coming up with it as I was getting out of the car one day. I knew it was a darkly funny idea and I couldn’t wait to write it.

Contrast that with another sketch I wrote called “Lady Guitar,” also for Thunder Gulch. The idea process for this one was different. I was trying really hard to come up with ideas for a first writers meeting, and I remember doing that thing where you look around the room, see a lamp, and you’re like, “Lamp? What’s funny about lamps? Let’s see…” There was a guitar in my living room. I thought, “What if there’s a guy… and he has a guitar… and he treats it like a lady?” And that was pretty much the sketch. A guy invites a woman over and all he can talk about is his acoustic guitar, which he calls “she” and treats like his “real” girlfriend. There wasn’t anything more to it. I kind of knew all along it wasn’t a great sketch and honestly I’m not even sure why it went up at Maude Night. It didn’t go over well. The actors were great, but it just wasn’t a good, funny, unique enough idea. 

This isn’t to say you should sit around and wait for ideas to magically appear in your brain. Sometimes you do have to sit down and think, think some more, jot stuff down, think some more, and then an idea comes to you. I’m also a fan of keeping a notebook (or note app on your phone) and writing down ideas as they come. Not even full sketch ideas, but any funny or unusual thing you notice. It could be the way a stranger orders coffee. Or a confusing interaction you have with a bank teller. Or the way your mother tells a joke. Anything. Write it down. They might become great sketches later.

A kind of “cheat” way of doing this is by tweeting jokes. Look over some of your tweets and see if there’s a kernel of an idea you can expand into a sketch. Still keep the idea notebook, but this might be another way to generate ideas.

4.) Explore the game in as many ways as you can. It doesn’t have to be just three beats. Explore it in ways the audience might not be able to see coming, but once it happens, it makes complete sense to them. Michael Delaney has used the term “use the whole buffalo” to talk about ways we can use up every last bit of “meat” the sketch has to offer. (You can think of a block of tofu, vegetarians.)

I’ll give an example. I wrote a sketch for The Prom called “Law Firm Commercial Acting Class” (which is exactly what it sounds like it is) that was a lot of fun. In the sketch, a group of actors learn how to read copy for law firm commercials, which, as you may know, tend to have very bad acting. In the sketch, the only one in the class with any real acting talent (played by Siobhan Thompson) was reprimanded by the teachers for being too “good.”

I could have had the actors simply read commercial copy the entire time, one after the other, maybe heightening the ridiculousness of the copy. But instead I had them do different things: first they read copy so the audience could get on board with what was happening. Then I had them act out a scenario (witnessing a car crash). Then they all had very quick lines to read, kind of like a game show’s lightning round. There was physical stuff they did too. (John Milhiser, Sasheer Zamata, and Justin Brown played the other members of the class.)

There was also a sub-game with the teachers: the man (Stephen Soroka) was constantly hitting on the woman (Amber Nelson) and getting rebuffed. Sub-games aren’t always necessary but if they add to the sketch in a fun and surprising way, why not?

5.) Edit. (That was originally “Edit, edit, edit" but, you know.) I’m a big fan of editing. I love it. It’s like vacuuming up cobwebs, something else I love to do. Read your sketch over and over. Delete any words that aren’t needed. Make sure your dialogue doesn’t have a lot of long chunks. If it does, I bet you don’t need a lot of it.

Here’s an example of how I edited from first draft to last. This is from a sketch I wrote called “Family Cooking.” It was performed at Maude Night by my team Dinner. It’s about a woman who goes on a talk show to demonstrate how she cooks meals for her family at home, only to soon be interrupted on set by her demanding husband and annoying children – just like at home. The fantastic Cody Lindquist pitched the idea and she starred as Shelby O’Loughlin. (That last name came from my sixth grade teacher Douglas O’Loughlin, one of my all-time favorite teachers. Shelby, I don’t know. She seemed like a Shelby.)

Here’s the first draft of the very beginning of the sketch:


Welcome back to “Good Morning New York.” We are so excited to have our next guest: mother, wife and cook extraordinaire, Shelby O'Loughlin!

Shelby waves to audience.


Thanks. I’m happy to be here.


Now, you’re going to show us a special chicken recipe that you often make for your family.


Yes. Family is so important to me, and I get so much pleasure out of preparing a wholesome, delicious meal for my husband and children.


Wonderful. And what you’ll be showing us is pretty much exactly how you do it at home, correct?


Yes, exactly the same.


Great! Let’s get started.

And here’s the same segment from the sixth and final draft:


Welcome back to Good Morning New York. We’re so happy to have our next guest. Mother, wife, cook, and author of Family Cooking. Please welcome Shelby O'Loughlin!


Thanks Rhonda. Happy to be here!


Now, you’re going to show us a special chicken recipe that you make for your family.


That’s right!


Wonderful. And this will be exactly how you do it at home, correct?


Exactly how I do it at home!


Great! Let’s get started.

Here are the main things I changed. It doesn’t look like much, but it adds up:

a. I named the host. Not necessary, but sometimes I feel bad handing a sketch to an actor saying “You’re playing ‘Woman’ [or ‘Cop’ or ‘Host’].” This isn’t a hard rule, just something I like to do. Also, names are specifics. And specifics are good.

b. I deleted “Shelby waves to audience.” I could have totally left this in. I think I really wanted to get the page numbers down so I was eliminating everything I could. Cody is a very talented actor and I knew she’d remember to wave if I told her to. And if she didn’t, it wouldn’t affect the sketch. You should only write stage directions if they’re completely necessary, like if an actor needs to get up and walk across the stage, or punch someone, or dramatically rip off a mustache.

c. The biggest change was deleting Shelby’s lines about how family is important to her. Not necessary. She wrote a family cookbook and is on a talk show about it. We know it’s important to her. Better to get on with the sketch.

d. I streamlined Rhonda saying “And what you’ll be showing us is pretty much exactly…” to “And this will be exactly…” This is a good example of what I mean by deleting unnecessary words. It may seem like a tiny change, but it really does make a difference if this kind of thing is done throughout the sketch. Little tweaks can make the difference between a sketch that seems to slog along to one that moves at a brisk pace.

e. In the final draft, I had Shelby say “Exactly how I do it at home!” instead of “Yes, exactly the same.” I really wanted to emphasize the “home” part, as it’s the basis for the game of the sketch. So I had her repeat Rhonda’s “exactly how you do it at home” to really hit it, um, home.

6.) Follow the submission process guidelines. This seems obvious but it’s worth stating. If they don’t want a sketch longer then five pages, don’t submit a six-page sketch, even if you think it’s great. Actually, don’t submit a sketch longer than five pages anyway. Not to say you should never write a sketch longer than that, but for the submission, don’t. Show them your editing skills as well as your writing skills.

7.) Have variety in your sketches. If you’re submitting three sketches, don’t have all of them be political monologues, or all of the characters in every sketch be men, or every game centered around how funny mustaches are (only two of your sketches should focus on this). Show them you can write for anyone and about anything.

While I’m at it, make sure you have a good gender balance in your characters. Don’t have all your crazy characters be men and all your straight characters be women. Don’t do completely the opposite either. Mix it up. Don’t have all the bosses be men. Don’t have all the receptionists be women. Maude teams are always pretty balanced, typically with three male actors and three female actors. If 95% of your characters are men, that’s a problem. Be creative. Be open. Have fun.

8.) Put your name on each sketch. Double check that you did this.

9.) Once you hand in your submission, try to forget about it. Seriously.

10.) Keep writing! Keep taking classes if you want to get better. Form sketch groups with friends. Put up shows at small theaters. Shoot videos. Write funny blog posts. Submit your writing to humor websites. Tweet. Write as much as you can, and I promise you will get better.

Thanks for reading this very long post. I hope it was helpful. I don’t know when the next Maude submissions are but it doesn’t hurt to start thinking about this stuff now. Now go write!


"I'd Lie" - One Direction Preference

L o u i s:  Standing on the sidewalk, the cool night breeze blew the hair away from my face, as it kissed my skin. I watched as the black SUV pulled up before me, its colors blending seamlessly with the midnight sky. Peering through the window, Louis smirked that familiar mischievous grin at me, gesturing with a subtle nod of his head for me to get in. His usually tousled, chestnut hair was hidden behind a grey beanie, his tattoo inked skin covered by the simple white t-shirt he wore. The mere sight of him conjured up the memorable scent of his spicy cologne, and that passenger seat had never looked so good to me. As I clambered into the cab, he murmured, “I thought we could go for a drive.” I smiled softly at him, unwarranted excitement coursing through my veins. It’s the way his tongue darts in and out among parted lips leisurely wetting his pouty, bottom lip as he talks animatedly. One hand draped casually across the head of the black, leather steering wheel, the other waving in the air, adding intensity to his words. The way his gaze flicks rapidly between my face and the darkened road ahead, a light filling his sea blue irises. I could count a hundred colors in those baby blue orbs, each fleck and hue whispering an untold story that only I could understand. But if you asked me in that moment, if I love him, I’d lie.

H a r r y:  Legs dangling over the edge of his large, cherry wood bed, I fixed my eyes on the white ceiling overhead. The fan whirred on low, blades rotating at a relaxing pace as it spun round and round. His bare skin his warm as it brushed against my arm, the heat unmistakable, like an invisible jolt of electricity. We talk endlessly, our conversations light, and pointless. That is until he whispers, “I swear, I’ll never fall in love.” Sitting up, he mutters it without a care, as he runs his slender fingers through his long, curly hair. His words come as a surprise to me, and I can’t help but feel a bit like I’ve been rejected. I laugh, because I truly hope he’s wrong. “Sure you will,” I reply, averting my gaze to a stubborn hangnail clinging to the edge of my thumb, following his actions as I sit with my legs tucked under my chin. He tells me a joke, and I fake a smile. He glances briefly in my direction, but I’m unwilling to look him straight in the eye. I know that if I look up, even for a split second, he’ll see the secrets I’ve been keeping inside my heart, now written on my face. He’ll see all the feelings I’ve worked so hard to stash away inside my self. We’ve been friends for so long, but I don’t think it ever crossed his mind, that this love I have is so much deeper than friendship. I know all his favorite songs. The simple way his lips form a smile as he laughs. All the dreams that he’d never share with anyone else. It’s undeniable that I love him, but still if anyone asks, I’d lie.   

Z a y n:  I sat on the leather sofa in his living room, watching his hand float across the paper resting in his lap. His fingers were black, tainted by the stub of black charcoal gripped loosely in his steady grasp. He chewed his lower lip in concentration, eyes fixed on his artwork. Then, his head shot up, the sound of his charcoal, pencils, and brushes clanging across the coffee table startling him from his attentiveness. His sister stood there with a timid look on his face, having accidently bumped the table. “What the hell?” he grumbled, a flash of anger crossing his chiseled features, “watch where you’re going, yeah?” She narrowed her eyes, lips pulling into an impressive pout, and with one final glare in Zayn’s direction she flipped her long dark hair over her shoulder and stalked from the room. The whole time I sat there, taking in the scene. It was funny, how well I knew him. From all the little things that made him tick, to the hints of his character that shone through his quiet demeanor. I knew that he loved to argue, even if it was all in fun. His birthday was marked on my calendar with a heart; the twelfth of January. His favorite color was red, and his sister was beautiful, just like him. And without a doubt, he had his mother’s eyes. That richness and warmth I so loved reflected back at me every time I saw them together. Smiling to myself, I fiddled with a loose strand of hair, trying with every ounce of my being to convince myself that I wasn’t in love with him. I told myself that this feeling enclosing my heart was nothing more than friendship set on fire. I tried and I tried, and I continued to lie to myself.       

L i a m:  Voices floated all around the room, mixing together, conversations lost within the noise. Liam stood alone in the doorway, observing everything from afar as he pressed the rim of his beer bottle to his pale pink lips. He looked around the room, innocently overlooking the truth that was right in front of him. How could he not know? How could he be so oblivious to the way he made my heart beat? Shouldn’t a light go on? Shouldn’t he have seen the way I looked at him, love pooling in my irises, affection brimming beneath the surface of my heart? Doesn’t he know that I’ve had him memorized for so long? The lines of his face engraved in my mind, his laugh a vital reason for my existence. The coffee color of his eyes easily becoming my favorite color. He was my addiction, my drug, my happiness. It seemed impossible that he didn’t know. I watched him now, as he dug the sleek, silver iPhone from his pocket, pressing it tight to his ear. I watched as his face fell, that smile I so loved replaced with sorrow. He stormed from the room and cautiously I followed. “Liam,” I murmured, voice a meek whisper, “is everything alright?” “M’fine,” he mumbled, finishing the remains of the amber liquid in his beer bottle, “she just broke up with me.” His words were plain, everything seen in black and white with him. The rims of his eyes had gone red, and he quickly wiped them with the heels of his hands, never wanting anyone to see him cry. I didn’t want him to see me wishing he was mine, so I lied, and told him everything would turn out fine. 

N i a l l:  The brick front to my London flat came into view all too soon, and I glanced over at Niall for what felt like the hundredth time. I kept my steps in time with his. His steps were casual, relaxed, like he was in no hurry for the night to end. We strode up to the front steps, each of us staring back at the other. “Well, I guess I should go,” he hummed, ruffling his short hair, “but tonight was a laugh.” I smiled, nodding thoughtfully. “Yeah, it was. Thanks again, for walking me home,” I murmured, mentally kicking myself for the high, nervous pitch of my voice. With a smile, he walked away. I closed the heavy door and let out an exasperated sigh, and slid all the way down until my butt hit the floor. “My god, if I could only say, ‘I’m holding every breath for you,’” I grumbled to myself, resting my head in my hands, “how freaking hard is that to say, (Y/N)?” Pulling out my cell phone, I quickly dialed my best friends number, praying she’d be awake. “He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect,” I chimed, talking at lightning speed the second my friend’s quiet voice called through the receiving end, “he’s sweet and thoughtful. He always smells amazing, and he has this adorable laugh that I swear could make the sun shine on a cloudy day. And he’d never tell you, but he can play guitar. I think he can see through everything, but my heart.” You didn’t pause, even for a breath. Your sentences ran together in a muddled mess. “My first thought when I wake up is, ‘my god he’s beautiful.’ So, every morning, I put on my makeup and pray for a miracle. But if you asked me if I love him, I’d lie.” 

My Best Friend Satan

So THIS post

Inspired this (I promise I’ll keep going, you just must be patient-I’ll illustrate some too!) 

Violet checked the paper in her shaking hands for the thousandth time, making sure she had everything the list required. The list was…interesting, to say the least. It had actually required ‘eye of newt’, as clichéd as that is. Harder to find than you’d think. But she found it all the same, (no matter if it was illegal-she wasn’t caught) and now she could finally summon Satan to do her bidding. Hopefully it would work.

“Oh god, what if it doesn’t?” She gasped. “What if he’s really mean and scary? Ugh, shut up Violet, don’t let all of your hard work be for nothing.” With a pat to her cheeks she set about setting everything up. The trap had to be drawn, the candles put in place, the potion mixed, and when she finally had it she recited the incantation and waited with bated breath.

He wasn’t exactly what she expected. He wasn’t red, didn’t have any horns, no tail, wasn’t carrying a pitch fork-he just looked, well, hot-normal! He looked normal. No way, Violet had no intention whatsoever of being with the devil, okay? Once she gets older she’s going to marry whoever tickles her fancy-and doesn’t intimidate her-and they’re going to have babies and live like they’re in a sitcom. This deal with Satan was going to be temporary.

Unless it lasts, then it’s just going to be platonic. All she wanted was a friend. (one that couldn’t run away because they thought she was too quiet or something)

The devil put his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and started tapping a red converse clad foot. He raised a blonde eyebrow.

“Well?” Violet swallowed hard, spread her feet wide, straightened her back, held her head high, and puffed her chest out to try to seem authoritative.

“Mister Devil, I command you to be my best friend,” she said with conviction. His amber eyes widened a fraction, and he fixed his tie, brushed an invisible speck of dust off his vest, and rerolled one of his sleeves with an adopted air of nonchalance to hide how flustered he was, and how hard he was trying not to laugh. He’d never gotten that kind of request before, and the statement just sounded ridiculous.

“Please, call me Lucifer.”

“Fine th-” He held out a hand to shut her up and was that red nail polish? But hey, Violet wasn’t going to judge; everyone had their quirks. Lucifer cocked his head to the side. Somehow guessing what she had been thinking he asked, “What, you don’t like it?” She hesitated, but he willed Violet to speak with a look.

“I-” She paused and bit her lip. “Don’t think it’s the right color. Try, um, try black.” There was a beat of silence, then the devil threw his head back and let out a loud, warm laugh, causing Violet to jump. He wiped the tears from the corner of his eyes before he turned back to her with a grin.

“You know what? I like you. I’ll be your friend.” All the breath ran out of her lungs, leaving Violet only able to whisper.


“Really. Hell, this could be pretty fun.” Violet smiled down at the ground, scuffing her shoe in the dirt.

“Oh, and by the way.” She looked up to see him wiggling his fingers with their now plain nails. There was a silver band on his ring finger, a skull engraved into the wide face. “I don’t actually wear nail polish.” He shrugged. “ ’S not my thing.”