#outofhatboxes

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Mickey's the hardest headed man I've ever met," Susannah snorted as she took a bite of sausage link. "No matter how many mistakes he makes, he never learns-I've seen that for myself."

Mickey often insisted he knew best, and seldom if ever was willing to hear otherwise...even when he'd been proven wrong time and time again. It was almost sort of impressive, really, his dedication to his stubbornness: It would be a quality Susannah and her father would've admired (after all, to be a Pace was to be stubborn), if Mickey wasn't such an ass.

"Pa used to think that was why he's never split up from his wife, who makes him miserable," she continued. "Doesn't matter how much he complains about her to anyone who'll listen, doesn't matter how much they argue and spat and yell, he won't divorce her, even though that marriage bed has long since grown cold."

Her father had met both his daughter's employer and said employer's wife, and didn't care much for either. He used to say, "Your mother wasn't perfect. She had her vices, and I won't lie and say it didn't put a strain on our marriage. But she loved me, and she loved you, and she wasn't at all a bad person just because of her addiction. But those two...they deserve each other, honestly."

"The day he learns from my leaving is the day he'll leave Min," she huffed, as she took another bite: She wished she could say that, one day, she'd buck up the courage to make a big show of her departure before they left to California, and that Mickey would get on his knees, apologizing profusely, begging her to stay, to make some sort of amends with all he'd done, but the chances of that were what they'd call "slim to none". He was just too stubborn, too proud, too foolish for that...

(A shame...she'd have liked to hear that apology.)

[theheadlessgroom]

"Oh, here comes the wicked witch," Abigail snickered, nudging one of her neighbors at the table, completely unfazed by Mick's outburst. Not when their favorite object of ridicule was coming out of the stock room.

Short, spindly, frizzy-haired, with a pointy nose and a pale face, made all the paler by inky-black hair and olive-green eyes, under which hung heavy bags brought on by many a sleepless night. With all of this compounded by her long black dress (a hand-me-down from her mother, a pair of emerald green shamrocks embroidered on the sleeves that she often tried to hide), Susannah Pace somehow looked wrong not being mounted on a broomstick, with a pointy hat on her head.

"Now there's the eternal bachelorette," Abigail smirked, as Susannah resumed her place at her table, focusing firmly on the bonnet she was working on in a bid to ignore her coworker's catty conversation, which was well within earshot. "Though unlike with Mr. de Clair, fellas ain't exactly lining up 'round the block for Susy's hand..."

Susannah bristled at little at the nickname, but otherwise said nothing-she never went by Susy, not even when she was a child...to be frank, she hated the nickname, but the people she worked for at a young age often insisted on calling her as such, and she just had to get used to it. She supposed that was one of the few pluses of working for Mickey-he never called her "Susy", just...Pace.

"Pace! Is that damned bonnet ready yet? Mr. Hatchaway will be here any minute to pick it up for his new wife, and I want it perfect when he does!"

"Yes, sir, it's almost done," she sighed defeatedly, as she put the final touches on it-namely, a pretty lavender bow and a fake daisy. Wealthy clients were the worst; she'd yet to meet a truly pleasant one. Most were merely dismissive, didn't give her the time of day outside of listing off their demands for their hats, and that was better than the sort who enjoyed making her run in circles for their own amusement, jumping through hoops to make them happy. Mr. Hatchaway, unfortunately, fell into the latter category, and she could only hope he'd be satisfied with her work.

RP: Genderbent

@theheadlessgroom

It was a blazing hot summer day like any other throughout the city of New Orleans. As always, Mickey's Haberdashery was bustling with potential customers looking to commission garments, and employees working away at garments that had been commissioned in the not-so-distant past.

But not to say it was completely professional: as the employees chipped away at their current projects (admittedly at a somewhat leisurely pace), they passed the time gossiping back and fourth about all of the city's most attention-catching news, especially news concerning the city's elite.

"...did you hear he turned someone down again?" one seamstress asked another, sounding impeccably like a schoolgirl gossiping over lunch.

"That eternal bachelor, Philippe de Claire?" inquired another, to which the first one nodded.

"The one and only! This time he turned down Nicola Pennyworth, the daughter of a banker. I swear, he must've gone through every well-to-do broad in Louisiana by now! No one is good enough for him: he sounds like an insufferable fop, if you ask me."

"I don't know," a third seamstress spoke up, flashing the others a coy grin. "Maybe he just hasn't met the right girl: I'll bet I could have him wrapped around my finger in no time."

Finally, out came Mickey, his face stern as he marched over to the trio of seamstresses who had gathered around one of the haberdashery's work tables.

"I don't give a damn about that de Claire boy and his love life," Mickey huffed, his palm meeting the wooden table with a dull thud. "And I don't pay you to run your mouths! Stop yapping, and get back to work!"

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

I am?

These two words, this simple little question, very nearly came out of Susannah's mouth before she stopped herself, reminding herself of Philippe's sincere nature. This was a man who would never lie to her, least of all about her appearance, and so she allowed herself to be flattered in that moment, cheeks turning a soft pink as she replied, "Th-Thank you, Philippe. You..y-you look v-very handsome!"

Not about to let him linger out on her front porch all night, she was quick to sweep him inside and into her little kitchen, where she had everything laid out, ready and waiting for them. She was also pleasantly surprised by the strawberry-creme bonbons he'd procured for them; they would make a wonderful dessert to cap off tonight's dinner.

"I-I...I have something for you too!"

Before they sat down to their meal (she would've liked to have just dug in, but perhaps giving him this gift would mitigate some of the butterflies in her stomach and let her actually enjoy dinner), Susannah hustled out of the room, only to then return with a small box-not ornately wrapped or even particularly eye-catching...unlike what was inside.

It was a hand-knitted sweater, made in a beautiful sky-blue yarn, laced with delicate honeycomb and blackberry patterns, very similar to the one Wilhelmina Pace knitted for her future husband many years ago (the only difference being was that the one she made was a soft buttercup yellow; Susannah had it tucked away in the cedar chest upstairs, along with many other heirlooms). It would be plenty warm to wear, once the cold snap eventually settled in.

"I-It's an Aran sweater," she explained shyly, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched him open it, on pins and needles, waiting for his reaction, wondering nervously all the while: Will he like it?

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Who, me? Moi?" Doreen asked faux-innocently, pressing a hand to her chest as she dropped her jaw in mock surprise, as though she were shocked, absolutely shocked that Philippe would accuse her of such a thing, before flashing them a playful grin. "What would ever give you that idea?"

"Oh, no reason," Susannah smiled, to which Doreen giggled (oh, her friends knew her so well!), but while she continued to elaborate on her scheming to Philippe, Susannah herself found herself staring out the window, lost in thought. The wheels in her mind were already beginning to turn, her heart was beginning to race, and a little smile was dancing on her lips all the while.

How wonderful it all sounded...to return to Gracey Manor for one of Doreen's lavish, wonderful parties, and in the company of her dear friends, no less! It'd be wonderful to see Edward and Belle again, to see the mansion again, all under the cover of a mask...for once, she wouldn't have to be Susannah Pace, lowly seamstress, but could instead be a beautiful, anonymous maiden...

And that maiden would need a dress.

Trembling wore three different dresses to church, Susannah would only need one...she made a note to herself to go back to her mother's book of fables, and look to those very dresses for inspiration. This would be her magnum opus thus far, her most impressive piece of work to date: A gown fit for a fairy tale maiden.

And if she could dance with her prince in such a gown, oh...her heart ached at the thought, and she wondered to herself if, between now and when the ball actually happened, if she and Philippe would be like Edward and Doreen, secretly courting under the noses of everyone. She dared dream they would be...

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

At this moment of reminiscense, Dorian and Elizabeth's eyes met, and their smiles mirrored one another as Elizabeth commented off-handedly:

"I think I'm beginning to understand that feeling."

Walking behind the two younger couples, unable to resist cooing over her sleeping granddaughter just as her mother was, June caught little snatches of the conversation, with certain remarks just happening to make her ears prick up a little more, though she never let her face show what she was thinking and feeling, to say nothing of refusing to give voice to these thoughts. As she had told Lon earlier in the month, she had her theories, but at the end of the day, whatever was on Dorian and Elizabeth Gracey's mind was theirs to announce, and she certainly wasn't going to impede upon that.

At the very least, when the party had made it back to the attic, and Randall and Emily quietly took the twins to their room for a nap, she took Elizabeth aside for a moment, venturing to say, choosing her words carefully, "Well, if you do ever feel sick again, if any nausea or soreness pops up again...please, don't hesitate to come to me. I'd like to help in any way I can."

Elizabeth studied June's face for a moment, remaining calm upon this suggestion being put to her-the matriarch's face was just as calm as her own, and there was a gentle sincerity in the way she smiled at her, to say nothing of something of a mischievous twinkle to her eye, a sort of subtle, knowing look that reminded Elizabeth of her own mother, and the looks she would give her one and only daughter when she knew something was afoot.

But even with that look, the mistress of Gracey Manor knew Mrs. June Pace was a woman she could trust, and so she flashed her an appreciative smile, saying, "If anything comes up, I'll be sure to look to you first. Thank you, June."

"Think nothing of it, Elizabeth."

[theheadlessgroom]

Upon hearing this small voice, Randall spun around, his eyes landing on the spirit hovering around the corner, a spirit he almost didn’t recognize-after all, it had been so long since he’d seen her; the last time he laid eyes on her, goodness, she must’ve only come up to his knee...

“Erika.”

Still, a sense of joy filled him when he saw her, and he almost tripped over himself crossing the attic to embrace her without a moment’s hesitation, knowing this to be his little girl. The thought of that alone was enough to make his eyes well up with tears (tears he was sure were about to come spilling out and flood the whole attic), but still did he hug her close, struggling to find the right words to say. He felt he should say something...

…but perhaps it was better to let his actions do all the talking for him.

{Starter for @theheadlessgroom }

Starter Call: https://www.tumblr.com/eviesheart/725057276097036288

Exhausted, mentally and emotionally that was one way to describe the current state of one Erika De Claire Pace. It simply seemed that the ghostly teenager could not get a break…

The disappearance of her father was one thing, but the equally mysterious disappearance of her mother accompanied by an entirely different Ghost Bride in the attic- primarily one that especially didn’t like her- Erika had found herself in quite the unique dynamic. Missing both of her parents, and stuck with a Black Widow Bride who truly saw her as nothing more than an inconvenience. The attic was an entirely new place at this point on, and all Erika could do was endure.

It was an evening like any other in the attic of Gracey Manor. Constance was out socializing with other haunts which gave Erika a moment of peace from the ghastly woman- though seeing her face on the various portraits didn’t do much for comfort. The sound of a single heartbeat resounded through the attic as Erika sat in one of the attic’s chairs, a small huff escaping her lips. One unfortunate thing about living in an attic meant you occasionally had run ins with moths- moths that liked to eat away at your lacy dresses. But it was nothing a lovely embroidered flower or two couldn’t fix.

Yes, this was what life had become in the attic, and for Erika she was not anticipating anything to change. But oh, was she gonna be amazed by what was waiting in store for her on this seemingly regular old evening in Gracey Manor.

Perhaps a day she had been waiting for for years….

@theheadlessgroom

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Yes, he did," Susannah nodded-a bit of a blessing and a curse in her eyes, admittedly, considering the mixed feelings she had regarding her heritage...

"My mother was...very proud of who she was," she began, as she sipped her coffee pensively. "She took a great deal of pride in being Irish, and she wore it on her sleeve...even when other people didn't appreciate that pride. She told my Pa a lot of stories about her life in Ireland, about her family, and what it means to be a Pace. We're stubborn and passionate about...everything, really, but we also value family greatly; we'd move heaven and Earth for our loved ones. Pa was really taken by it all, by Ma's pride in being who she was, and so when it came time to get married...he chose to take her name instead of her taking his."

It was a great shock to many of August's neighbors, knowing that instead of becoming Mr. and Mrs. Burke, they had become Mr. and Mrs. Pace: He often speculated that, had it been the other way around, their neighbors would've been a little less frosty to the couple, perhaps approving of this "uncivilized" Irishwoman taking a step in becoming more Americanized, but because August had taken her name, it was seen as a slap in the face to those around them-that he was taking the side of "a Paddy" over his American kin.

"Ma was really touched by it," she finished, as she set her coffee mug down. "And Pa was proud to be a part of a family like hers. Even if other people didn't approve, he didn't give a damn-he was proud to be a Pace."

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Susannah smiled softly at the kiss before assuring him, "O-Oh no, not at all! I actually slept in this morning, which was a wonderful change of pace!"

It was unfortunately the conundrum that came with being a night owl: She could easily be up long into the night without issue, which gave her an opportunity to work on a project (sometimes for work, sometimes just something personal on the side), but it also meant she was exhausted come the wee hours of the morning, when she'd reluctantly rise from her bed to take a quick bath, get dressed, tame her hair, and fix herself a quick breakfast before she had to be out the door. Even on her days off, she couldn't bring herself to sleep in: It just felt like there was too much to do, that she couldn't afford to waste the day by sleeping in.

But today...she just didn't have that nagging worry she had on her weekends. She didn't have that little voice poking her in the back of her head, prodding her into getting out of bed that morning. She felt no great rush to jump out of the sheets and bathe and fetch herself some food to keep her fueled for a little while. Instead, she felt...leisurely. Months ago, she would've been scandalized at the notion of walking down a hotel hallway in just her nightdress and robe, but this morning, she had no issue with taking it easy: Sleeping in, and indulging in a rich, flavorful breakfast with the man she loved.

"I...I hope we have more mornings like this in the future," she admitted, leaning her head on Philippe's shoulder as she dug into her pancakes. "More quiet, easy mornings, where we can just...take our time."

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Oh, I think you would be!" Susannah encouraged sweetly, reaching out to take his hands in hers as she continued, "You're already a wonderful dancer, Philippe, and I'd love to see you...follow your passion too, once we get to California! I think you would amaze anyone who saw you dancing...you certainly amaze me."

Was Philippe self-taught when it came to dancing? Certainly. Was that a ding against him? Not in her eyes: He was a marvelously elegant dancer, that she could attest to over and over again, and she imagined anyone who saw him in action would agree. In fact, they might be deeply impressed to know he was self-taught, and not taught formally-he certainly looked as if he had taken lessons for years when he was on the dance floor.

"Who knows?" she ventured to suggest with a chuckle, as their waiter came along with a small bowl of bread and butter as an appetizer. "If you do...maybe someday I'll be costuming you too!"

She couldn't help but get excited at the prospect of making her beloved a costume: Although she'd technically already made him something (that hat that had, she realized, brought them together in the first place), it made her grin, made her heart flutter as she imagined making him an elegant, lavish suit to wear on the stage-something romantic and regal, like the noble prince of Fair, Brown, and Trembling...

[theheadlessgroom]

“Please, make yourself at home,” Randall invited, gesturing to the many old, creaky, yet still comfortable lounge seats and high-backed chairs strewn about the attic, serving as something of a living room for his humble home. It wasn’t much, but he and Emily had long ago rearranged it to be some semblance of a living space, and he still found it quite cozy, all these years later.

As his friend entered, he rushed off to grab him a blanket from the bedroom closet-a good one, a heavy one that would do a good job of keeping him warm (without a fireplace up there, it could get damnably cold on ones old bones, and he could say that from experience). He settled on an old afghan his mother and grandmother had made together, in varying shades of purple, gathering it up before carrying it back to Sinclair, to drape over his shivering shoulders.

“Do you want another?” he asked, wondering if he should double-back to the closet to grab another one of the afghans in there...he also made a note to light a few more candles, just to brighten up the place, make it look a tad more inviting...

(((crawls out of hell with this) @theheadlessgroom It's been a bit since I did Sinclair interacting with Randall-

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Doreen's told me the costumes are beautiful," Susannah grinned, her excitement only growing the more they discussed it: Seeing as she didn't exactly get out to the theater very much, she by and large only had others' word to go off, letting her best friend's excitable descriptions fuel her imagination, painting herself a picture of lavish gowns and suits, glittering in full color and rich details under the stage lights, lending a touch of magic to the visuals, accompanying the wonder that was the music.

"She told me she auditioned to play the little girl in The Nutcracker, and even started to learning to dance for the part," she recalled, as she put in her order with the waiter, declining his offer of a glass of wine to accompany her meal: It had taken a lot of convincing on Doreen's part, getting her parents to let her try out for the theater, but eventually, she wore them down, getting them to give in at last. Her plans for stardom were spoiled, however, by a twisted ankle during dance practice, much to her deep disappointment-and, as Susannah saw it, her parents' deep relief.

"I don't think they wanted her to be an actress," she shrugged-a shame, honestly, considering Doreen's skill as one, it was a shame she never pursued it beyond that.

"I could never do that-I think I'd get stage fright, honestly!"

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Susannah suppressed a chuckle through her mug at the mention of the dreaded citrus and mint combination-another mistake she made in her youth that she had never forgotten, and for good reason! Still, it was nice to know she and Philippe were in a similar boat in that regard, these little mishaps with less-than-pleasant flavor combinations...

The chime of the clock brought her out of her reverie, and so she was quick to drain her mug. As lovely as a cup of freshly brewed coffee was, it did not a dinner make, and so she rose to join him, her newly-caffeinated stomach now alive with butterflies as she shyly linked arms with him, looking like any other couple one would find on the street.

Where will we go for dinner? she wondered to herself, as they exited the cafe and headed back out onto the street, to get a further lay of the land. Obviously, both of them were plenty familiar with Southern comfort food and good ol' Creole cuisine, and of course, he was as familiar with French fare as she was with Irish, but she wondered...would they go with what they knew, or would they shake it up? She supposed, since they were on vacation, it wouldn't hurt to be daring and try something new...

"Anything in mind?" she asked him curiously as they walked along together-perhaps, in his planning for this vacation, he found an excellent restaurant he was excited to try with her!

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"Emily-!" Randall cried out, but before he could follow after her, bound and determined to stay by her side, his father reached out to stop him, saying gently, "Let her go, lad. Let her go."

"Wil?!" June hissed in bewilderment at her husband's actions, looking from him, to the departing Emily, then back to Wilhelm; as soon as their daughter-in-law-to-be had shut the heavy door behind her, she raised her voice, snapping, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You're really going to let her go out and face that monster by herself?!"

"No, Junie, no," Wilhelm assured her quickly, letting Randall go (at which his son immediately rushed to the window, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for the two vampires, knowing he couldn't bear not to watch, no matter how agonizing it'd be); pressing a quick kiss to his wife's cheek, he moved to grab the chair he'd been eyeing. With one solid swing against the doorframe, the chair was smashed to pieces, leaving the legs scattered across the ground.

"We're not gonna let Emily face that bloodsucker all by herself," he said, pulling out his pocket knife as he picked up one of the legs, moving quickly to begin carving the end into a point. "But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna play it smart. We're gonna take that vamp by surprise, and with any luck, we'll give Emily a fighting chance to give her attacker a little payback."

Picking up quickly on his meaning, June and Randall moved to pick up the other legs.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"I say to just go with your heart," Randall smiled, as he pulled up a chair in front of the changing rooms, very eager to what Emily picked out as her wedding dress: He knew there were plenty of superstitions surrounding the bad luck that came with the groom seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding day proper, but honestly, he wasn't thinking too hard about that now. He'd had his fill of bad luck in his past life; in this new one, he felt there could only be good things from here on out.

Of course, he knew his advice wasn't exactly the most helpful he could give, but to tell the truth, he had faith in her ability to find the perfect gown. This would be her own dress-not an heirloom passed down from grandmother to mother to daughter, meant to be worn out of duty, but one she herself chose-just as she chose her own husband, so too would she choose her own dress, and no one would impede her.

"We've got a lot of variety, so you certainly have plenty of options," he chuckled, as he took his seat. Hopefully not too many, he thought, as he made himself comfortable, excited to see what she chose-no matter what she chose, of course, he would love and find her beautiful in it; what was most important to him was that she was happy with her choice, and would look back on it fondly.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Susannah was quivering as she and Philippe headed up to their box and took their seats: With the way she was trembling, one might think she was about to go onstage herself, suddenly seized by an intense care of stage fright...

...but why? She had nothing to be nervous about. No eyes were on her, as they climbed the stairs up into the box, a pair of plush, comfortable-looking chairs awaiting them, as well as two pairs of opera glasses. No one was paying any attention to the young couple preparing to watch the show, just like everyone else. To them, she and Philippe were just another pair of faces in the crowd.

And yet, Susannah still couldn't help but feel jittery for some reason, as she fidgeted with her program, trying not to crumple it in her hands. She couldn't help but wonder if it was because, dressed in her best friend's clothes, wearing her hair up and sitting beside a high-class man, about to watch a ballet, she felt like something of an imposter, as though she didn't belong here. Maybe she felt like someone would clock her as an imposter, clock her as being who she was-what she was-and throw a fit. It was an absurd fear and she knew it, but she couldn't help but feel it anyways.

Setting her jaw, she tried to furnky put the fear aside, not about to let it spoil her afternoon with her beloved. Setting her program on her knee, she instead found Philippe's hand again, squeezing it as the overture began, and whispering sweetly to him over the hum of the instruments beginning to warm, "Thank you again for this, Philippe-I...I think I'll have a wonderful time. E-E-Especially with you here with me."

She punctuated this with a little kiss to his cheek, making her blush like a schoolgirl as she turned her attention to the stage.

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

Fortunately, neither of them had to wait long-June and Wilhelm, unable to sleep on account of their son's absence, had been sitting up wide awake in the living room, and were thus able to run to the door when they heard Emily's call. June threw open the door, and Randall, in an effort to stand on his own two feet, moved to collapse against her, mumbling, "Ma...Emily...saved me..."

"What?"

"She didn't...hurt me..." he continued, voice strained as he spoke-even through the haze of pain hanging over him, he wanted to make it as clear as possible that Emily saved his life. "Got mugged...she saved me..."

"Shh, shh, don't speak," she soothed, her expression uncertain as she looked between her badly battered son and the vampire standing on the front porch. She wasn't sure what to say, but for now, she settled for bringing Randall inside, asking Wilhelm to bring her the first aid kit, something he rushed to do, sparing an equally uncertain look towards Emily as he hurried upstairs.

Once he'd had a chance to lie down and recover, letting his mother tend to his wounds, Randall was able to explain the full story of what had transpired that evening-how Emily had coming seemingly out of nowhere to rescue him, opting not to drain his attackers, but instead give them a good scare before rushing him home.

"And she didn't...bite you...?" Wilhelm asked, keeping his voice low as Randall took a deep drink from his water glass, saying, "No, Pa, she didn't." She had every opportunity to do so, but she didn't. He hoped that would be enough to change their minds about her, as he ventured to ask:

"Can you...can you please bring her in?"

At this request, his parents exchanged a nervous look-should they? Would she turn vengeful as soon as she crossed that threshold? The look in their son's eyes said no... ...but that was a painful concept in itself, as it meant that they had been wrong about her all this time...

Swallowing back their worries, June gave her husband a curt little nod, and so, with some hesitance, some lingering uncertainty, Wilhelm slowly opened the front door, letting Emily into their home once more.