A/N-Lyrics are italicized! I wanted to give Violet a bit more characterization, and also if I'm going to turn this into a story, there had to be a little bit more action! xx.

Cut off all of your hair
Did you flinch, did you care
Did he look, did he stop and stare
At your brand new hair

She sat in her bedroom, alone for the first time in weeks.

And most of all, she was bored. This week had been full of Moira teaching her how to cook, her mother teaching her how to care for Jeffrey, and her father trying to persuade her, even in death, to becoming a psychologist. Tate, too, of course, had filled her night.

He'd sneak in when her parents were busy making up for lost time, and her brother asleep, and he'd kiss her in the darkness.

Tonight, though, he'd obviously been busy with something, as he had yet to sneak through her window.

She turned the song up louder on her stereo-Flapper Girl by The Lumineers, one of her new favorites, and ventured towards the bathroom.

She groaned at the sight of herself in the mirror, was it possible for a ghost to be this bored? She looked at her razors, thinking of them once again as an escape, but remembered her promise to Tate. Right now, they were stronger than ever, so why risk it? She put the razor back in her old retainer case, the one she hadn't used since she was thirteen.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, almost willing Hayden to appear and give her a makeover. But, of course, Hayden was her enemy, and also probably fucking Travis in the basement; so Violet herself dug out the old makeup kit she never thought she'd touch again.

Entranced by her image, she dragged the thick, heavy black eyeliner into circles around her eyes, dragging them off a bit to create an overly-exaggerated cat-eye look. Then, Violet applied the silver glitter eye shadow, above her eyeliner, that she had only touched once before: Halloween 2007. When she was done with that, she put on so much foundation her skin looked fake, like a doll's, and then topped it off with bright red lipstick she had probably stolen from her mother.

She looked like a hooker, but at least she wasn't bored anymore.

Flapper girl, flapper girl
Prohibition in curls
Hair of gold and a neck of curls
It's flapper girl

Or, she thought, she looked like a flapper.

Laughing at the thought, she looked at herself in the mirror once more, no longer bored by her image, and saw that she was correct. She looked a perfect image of her great-grandmother, all she needed was the hair to match.

Quickly, without thought as to whether her hair would grow back or not, she dug out the razor she had once used to slit her wrists and instead slit her hair, cutting it to her chin and, as an afterthought, adding bangs.

There, now she could have passed for a flapper, and considering she was already a ghost, she might have been.

"Couldn't you have waited for Halloween?" A voice from the doorway said, and she turned around to see Tate, smiling at her. "You could have had it done right, but a hairdresser and everything."

"Do we even have the money for a hairdresser?" She said coldly, put off by the fact that he had yet to compliment her on her work, which, in her opinion, looked perfect. "Don't you like it?"

"I love it," Tate said, quickly correcting himself as he came to wrap his arms around her waist. "I don't think it'll grow back though, love."

"I don't care." She shrugged. "At least I'm not bored anymore."

Tate smiled at her, his sporadic, exciting girl. Even in death, she couldn't stand to be normal, no matter how much she thought she wanted it.

She leaned in to kiss him, and he fingered her new, chin-length hair.

A child's cry broke their trance, and Violet smiled up at Tate. It was Jeffrey.

"C'mon, I'm sure my parents are 'busy,' let's go get him." Violet grabbed his hand, tugging him along to find her baby brother.