#veruca mcquaid

[ariparri]

Quidditch Star

HM Masterlist

Woo check it out, a random Veruca drawing on my dash! Look at her go, playing like a true McQuaid! Just like her father (´⊙ω⊙`)

❌ NO REPOSTING ❌

[carewyncromwell]

"Got no diamond, got no pearl -- Still I think I'm a lucky girl."

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri // Read about how Jacob and Duncan met

x~x~x~x

Duncan Ashe was an incredibly driven, ambitious person. It was part of the reason why he'd climbed the ladder at court so fast and earned the position of Jack of Spades while still only a university student of 21. That same year, he brought Jacob Cromwell on as an advisor and technology expert, and the following year, he brought his best friend Coby McQuaid into the fold as well. This second addition in particular had prompted a lot of waves, and before long, Coby had actually been named the new King of Spades himself.

All in all, Duncan was very pleased with how his life at court was shaping up. This was why he was perturbed to find his "right-hand man," Jacob, looking so tired and gloomy that autumn. And to make him all the more perturbed, when Duncan asked him about it, Jacob forced a painful-looking smile on and lied through his teeth.

"Gloomy?" he said. "Aw, nah, I'm fine, Ashe, just...just a little tired is all. But don't worry! I just have to finish this up, and then I can get right to the next prototype..."

Duncan's eyebrows furrowed. "Jacob, your shift's ending in an hour. If you're tired, then maybe you should go home and rest -- "

"Rest? When I'm on a roll?" laughed Jacob. "Nah, I've got to start experimenting on those soil samples tomorrow...and hey, this wind turbine isn't gonna fix itself..."

"Jacob," said Duncan, but Jacob cut him off with another forced smile.

"It's okay, Ashe," he said as reassuringly as he could. "I don't mind staying late to finish...and well, the overtime pay here's great! So it all works out."

The sentiment was familiar enough to Duncan that, very reluctantly, he gave in and let Jacob be. The Jack would still watch Jacob from afar, noting the dark circles that were slowly forming under his blue eyes and the way all trace of a smile would disappear the moment he thought no one could see him, and he grew more concerned by the day.

That concern was sidetracked completely, though, by the very nasty surprise Duncan got, when he accidentally overheard some other courtiers talking.

" -- he's got a sweetheart!"

"Cromwell? No way!"

Duncan stopped mid-step down the hall. His head shot around and he stilled, trying hard to listen.

"It's true!" said the first female voice. "He's been receiving boxes of white flowers and chocolate every day for a week now!"

"From who?" asked the other.

"That's what's so mysterious! I saw one of the packages arrive in his office the other day -- it had no note, no return address...not even a name! Just 'Jacob Cromwell' and his office number, printed on the light blue paper."

Duncan's ears perked up at once. Light blue paper? Only one store he knew of wrapped their packages in that stuff...

Sure enough, the other courtier made the same connection.

"Light blue paper? Only Pique's General Store wraps their stuff up that way!"

"Right! I talked to the gent in the mail room, and he said that he's found one of those such packages on his desk for Jacob at 5:15 PM every day for the last week!"

"How quaint! Then maybe Cromwell really has got some kind of secret admirer..."

"A lady, undoubtedly -- I saw the handwriting on the package, and that kind of penmanship is most assuredly a woman's..."

As their voices came around the corner, Duncan quickly peeled himself back from the wall. Not wanting them to think he'd been eavesdropping, he quickly strolled past the two gossiping girls without even looking at them. Even so, Duncan couldn't ignore the stifled gasps they gave at the sight of him.

"You don't think the Jack heard you?" one asked the other, as Duncan walked that little bit faster down the hall, sliding his hand into his vest pocket at he went.

x~x~x~x

Now, at first, Duncan wanted to confront Jacob about the rumors. Very quickly, though, he decided against it. After all, however much Jacob saw him as a friend, Duncan was his employer, and truthfully, it wasn't Duncan's place to stick his nose into Jacob's personal life. He was perfectly within his rights to date, if he wanted, so long as it didn't interfere with his work...

But that was kind of the sticking thing.

Jacob was entitled to date. He was allowed to do anything he wanted romantically, really -- even if that idiot had somehow turned out to be some sort of Casanova with women on every block, that ultimately was his business and his alone. And yet the thought of Jacob having some squeeze on the side...it was disquieting to Duncan, way more than it should've been.

You hired Jacob to serve as one of your courtiers, Duncan had to remind himself. He's your subordinate. People already think you favor him as it is -- if they had any reason to think you were romantically involved...

Duncan wasn't a naive person. He knew full well how such a thing could be spun, in the public sphere. And with people like Patricia Rakepick looking for any kind of opening to "one up" him, Duncan couldn't risk that.

And so that next day, in the late afternoon, Duncan paid a visit to the mail room. Sure enough, when he arrived, the older gentleman working there had a light blue package set aside for Jacob, accompanied by a bouquet of white hydrangeas.

"Saw Pique's new little shopgirl drop them off, as I came in," said the mail clerk cheerfully. "Poor lass...asked her if she wanted a spot of tea before she left, but she looked to be in a dreadful hurry..."

Duncan cocked his eyebrows as he picked up the package. "Really?"

"Yeah, well, old Pique's always been stingy about how many people he hires," said the mail clerk. "And she was a tiny little thing -- no older than my granddaughter, I think, 13, maybe? I reckon Pique's probably running that girl all over town, dropping off stuff..."

Well, there goes the idea of that girl being Jacob's "secret admirer," thought Duncan. Sounds like she's barely old enough to even think about romance. Still...

"What did the girl look like?" Duncan asked.

"Ginger hair, red lips -- and small, of course. Very small. Probably only five feet or so."

Near Veruca's height, Duncan mentally filed away the information.

"Thank you."

With this, Duncan took the light blue package, placing it under his arm as he headed out.

x~x~x~x

When he brought the package around to Jacob's office, his subordinate's face lit up at the sight of it. He unwrapped the package, and sure enough, it was a box of artisan chocolate.

When Jacob noticed Duncan looking over his "gifts" so critically, though, his smile faded.

"It's not what it looks like," he said immediately, sounding incredibly defensive.

"Oh?" said Duncan, raising an eyebrow.

"I've needed to harvest the flowers' seeds for my experiments," said Jacob with a weak smile. "It's all about the pH of the soil, see -- the hydrangea is a very unique plant -- "

"And the chocolate?" asked Duncan.

Jacob brought a hand through his dark curls uncomfortably.

"...That's just...to try to cheer me up, that's all."

"Cheer you up about what?" Duncan pressed him.

Jacob avoided Duncan's eye. Duncan swept around, trying to force Jacob to look at him.

"Jacob," he said sharply, "if there's someone -- "

Someone else...

Duncan forced himself not to go there. He couldn't confront Jacob's romantic life straight-on: if he did, he was afraid he'd say too much...

"...If there's something going on, you can tell me. You know I can help -- "

"I can do it by myself!" Jacob said in an oddly harsh tone.

Duncan flinched. Something almost stricken seemed to run over Jacob's face -- it made him lose a lot of the color in his face.

"It's fine, Ashe," Jacob said very firmly, putting on that strained smile again. "I've got it under control. I do."

Duncan's eyebrows came together tightly. "Jacob -- "

Jacob seized Duncan's shoulder and squeezed.

"I've got it," he insisted as reassuringly as he could.

Despite saying this, his hand on Duncan's shoulder was shaking.

Duncan's dark eyes flitted down to Jacob's hand on his shoulder, before looking up. They ran over Jacob's strained, pale face critically, taking in how tired the wrinkles around his eyes were...and then narrowed.

Jacob was lying. He was lying right to his face. What Duncan didn't know is whether Jacob knew it as well as he did.

"Fine," said Duncan, more coldly than he meant to.

Sliding out of Jacob's grip, the Jack of Spades turned on his heel and left, his long coat sweeping behind him as he went.

x~x~x~x

The following day, in the midst of work, Duncan went on an unscheduled outing into the capitol. He'd taken off his usual purple and white sash, preferring to go a little bit more "incognito" for the moment, and even took the trolley rather than a private streetcar with a driver.

His destination -- Pique's General Store.

Duncan had only ever been to this store once or twice. It was a store that sold a little bit of everything, from food to flowers to household trinkets, but was best known for its wearable pieces. Many women bought dresses, shoes, and jewelry from Pique's -- even Duncan's father had stopped in here to buy himself a new pocketwatch once, when Duncan was young.

When Duncan entered the store, he found it incredibly busy. The line was nearly out the door, and several of the shoppers seemed rather impatient. This may have been, however, because there was only one person at the register -- a girl with a black ribbon in her ginger ponytail and an apron tied over her second-hand gray dress.

Duncan's eyes narrowed. So this was the shopgirl who'd dropped off that package from Jacob's "secret admirer."

The mail clerk was right -- she was small. Her young, make-upped face indicated she was a teenager -- fifteen or sixteen, perhaps, a few years older than Veruca? -- but her petite height definitely made her look younger. Despite this, though, she zipped around behind the counter, fetching various goods and ringing up what the customers brought to the register. At several points she had to dart up the ladder leaning against the back shelf to pick out specialty items for a customer, sweeping back down to the floor with the grace of a chubby little robin landing after a flight. And all the while, even as the whole shop rumbled with the mutters of grumpy customers, she kept on a pretty, lady-like expression: not smiling, exactly, but nonplussed and grounded. This affect didn't shift even when one customer started berating her for making her wait fifteen whole minutes for service: instead, the small girl faced her with astounding patience.

"I apologize for the wait, ma'am," she said.

"I'm sure you do," the older woman sneered sarcastically.

The shopgirl didn't rise to the taunt. Instead she rang up the woman's total.

"That'll be a hundred, altogether."

The woman reacted with anger. "A hundred? The sign on the window said 'sale!'"

"The 'sale' items are marked in that far corner, with blue marks on their tags," the shopgirl explained. "I'm afraid only two out of your ten items have those marks."

"That is not what it said on the sign!" the older woman shot back angrily.

"The 'sale' corner has the exact same sign as the window does," said the shopgirl calmly. "If you'd like, I can put what you don't want back where they belong. Or if you want them all, but can't afford them right now, I can always put some of them on layaway for you."

The older woman looked so affronted, she looked close to literally clutching the pearls around her neck.

"How dare -- this is outrageous! I demand to speak to Mr. Pique this instant!"

"I'm afraid Mr. Pique is on a coffee break," said the shopgirl, "but if you wish to speak to him, then you can come back in twenty minutes. He should be back by then."

"I'm not leaving until I see Mr. Pique!" the older woman shouted.

The shopgirl's pale face hardened.

"All right," she said lowly. "Then stand off to the side, while I help these people behind you."

She immediately turned her attention to the man waiting behind the woman in line.

"Bring your things here, sir," the girl said more gently.

The man, with a faintly stunned look at the woman in front of him, hesitantly approached the counter with the bottle of whiskey and bag of candy he'd purchased. The woman in front of him looked outraged.

"Excuse me!" she shrieked. "I am your customer -- "

"And so are they," the shopgirl cut her off.

The girl's voice was very quiet, but it sounded so authoritative that she suddenly sounded much older and stronger than she looked.

"You complained about waiting fifteen minutes for my assistance," the shopgirl said coldly. "I'm not going to have all these people wait longer, simply because you no longer want that assistance. If you want Mr. Pique to speak to you, then he can speak to you after he has had something to eat, as I'm sure you will, once you've finished your shopping for the day. And hopefully you'll treat him with more respect than you have me."

The older woman started to redden as red as a tomato, her whole face puffing up like an angry fish.

"You -- !" she spluttered furiously. "You -- low-class, uppity little tramp -- !"

"And now you're disrespecting my other customers, by making a scene," the shopgirl said in that very soft, but pointed voice. "Either wait for Mr. Pique outside, or have a lovely day elsewhere."

The older woman spluttered some more nastier swears under her breath. Then, whirling around to look at all of the other stunned customers, she pushed right through the crowd and out the door of the shop, leaving all of her things strewn about the counter.

"That's it!" she raged. "I'm done!" She paused in the doorframe just long enough to add, "You may tell Mr. Pique that he has just lost himself a loyal customer -- !"

"Thank you," the shopgirl cut her off with great finality.

This only seemed to make the woman even madder as she stormed out, slamming the door shut behind her.

"I have never been treated thusly in my entire life -- !" could just barely be heard through the closed door.

Duncan watched her go, his lips spreading into a broad smirk despite himself.

Not bad, he thought as he glanced back at the shopgirl as she addressed the man who'd been behind the difficult customer in line.

"I'm very sorry about that," she said kindly. "And about the wait..."

"Oh, no, it -- was no trouble," said the man. He cleared his throat, clearly still a bit uncomfortable about what he'd just witnessed. "Ahem...I'm just sorry a little thing like you had to deal with that all by yourself..."

"It's no trouble," said the shopgirl, her red lips forcing a smile. "I've got it."

Duncan stilled. His smirk faded from his face as he stared at the shopgirl with a clarity he hadn't had until just that moment.

That strained smile...that pale face, that modest height...those almond-shaped blue eyes...

Those eyes...were Jacob's eyes.

Duncan felt like his heart had leapt up into his throat.

Carewyn. The shopgirl who'd delivered all those anonymous packages was Carewyn Cromwell -- Jacob's little sister.

Since when did Jacob's little sister have a job? She had to be so young still -- right around Veruca's age, Duncan thought. That would be way too young to be working a job like this... Was Jacob's family really that bad off that Carewyn had had to drop out of school too, to support her family?

Duncan suddenly felt like his heart was being squeezed.

Was this why Jacob had been so depressed? Because his little sister had had to give up on her academic future, the way Jacob had his...?

"Is there anything I can help you with, sir?"

Duncan was startled by the sound of an older, portly gentleman coming in through the door, putting out a cigar on the door frame as he entered.

"Ah...yes," Duncan said after he'd recovered. "You'd be Mr. Pique, I suppose? I thought you were out for a coffee break."

"Oh, I am," said Pique gruffly. "My thirty minutes isn't up quite yet...but I thought I'd just check in on my new little lady -- wasn't sure how she'd do behind the desk all by herself..."

His rough face broke into a fonder smile when he saw Carewyn quickly ringing up one customer's totals while adding another's by hand on a spare piece of paper, so as to cut the line down faster.

"But it seems I needn't have worried," he said, his smile becoming a bit more crooked. "I knew she'd be good help, the moment I met her."

"She is a bit young to be working here, isn't she?" asked Duncan.

"A bit, yes -- lass isn't going to be fifteen until September," said Pique.

"Then she's fourteen?" recurred Duncan.

She really was right around Veruca's age. The thought of Coby's sister working a full-time customer service job with people yelling at her for nothing made Duncan feel nauseous.

"Yes, I usually don't hire until at least sixteen," Pique said with a shrug. "But she fought hard to get this job, even just part-time. Said she'd need to save up some money, if she was going to be able to attend university..."

Duncan's heart leapt. "University?"

Then Carewyn hadn't dropped out?

"Yeah!" said Pique with a barking laugh. "I gather her family's financial state isn't so great. Her brother works for the Jack of Spades, so I hear, so he earns good money...but I reckon my little lady doesn't want him spending his pay on her future, when he's had to work so hard as it is. And well, I'm sure that boy would want to move into his own place and settle down with someone nice, at some point, not just stay at home with his folks forever..."

Duncan found himself tuning out as Pique rambled on a bit longer, only because his brain and heart were both turning with this new information.

The Cromwells weren't in financial trouble. Carewyn hadn't had to get a job to save her family, like Jacob did. She'd done it to pay for her education, so that Jacob wouldn't have to. She'd decided to work part-time, while still going to school...

...Kind of like Duncan had...working under the previous Jack while he was at university...

Duncan looked back up at Carewyn behind the counter. Her line of customers was almost completely gone now, leaving only a young man with a very dorky bow tie fumbling through his wallet for exact change.

"I can count it out for you, if you'd like," Carewyn offered.

"Th-thank you," the young man said with an uncomfortable smile. "I-I guess I'm just a little frazzled..."

Carewyn very quickly counted out exact change on the counter. Then, after scooping up the rest of the coins and returning it to the man's wallet, she handed a rather pretty light blue-wrapped box with a white ribbon to him.

"Here," Carewyn said with an encouraging smile. "I hope she likes it."

The young man's face burst into a blush, but he nonetheless smiled, encouraged. "Thank you!"

With a little wave, the young man left the shop. Carewyn likewise waved as he left, before sighing heavily, clearly relieved that the long line was gone.

"Well done, Carewyn!" said Pique jovially as he strode up to the counter, clapping her hard enough on the back that the much smaller girl winced. "Quite well done, indeed! I knew I was right to take you on..."

Carewyn put on her best smile. "Thank you..."

Then she immediately frowned as she gathered up the hats and dresses the difficult customer had left strewn on the counter.

"...But sir, your break isn't over until 4:30 -- "

"I'm still on break, I'm just not 'breaking,'" Pique said brusquely.

"Put on the brakes now, or you might break down later," Carewyn warned the man concernedly as she put the hats back on the proper mannequins.

But Pique waved this off. "I'll brew up some coffee and drink a cup before ringing anyone else up. Why don't you go take your lunch break a little early? You've worked hard enough."

Carewyn hesitated. "Are you sure? I can work until your break is over -- "

"Nonsense!" said Pique. "I passed around some fliers advertising the sale during my walk, so we'll undoubtedly have another rush of shoppers this evening, after people get off work. You go on ahead for now and get something to eat -- I'll have plenty of work for you to do when you get back."

Not looking entirely convinced, Carewyn nonetheless did as her employer said, putting the rest of the dresses away before heading back to the counter. She took off her apron, hanging it up on a nail on the side, and then headed to the backroom. Duncan lingered in the store, watching, as a minute later, Carewyn came bustling back out, a light-blue package under her arm.

Duncan's eyes widened in realization. Then the packages weren't being delivered on behalf of some secret admirer -- they'd all been from Carewyn herself!

"I'll be right back!" Carewyn said, as she darted across the store to the door.

"Be back in thirty minutes on the dot!" Pique called after her.

Just as the door would've closed, though, Duncan grabbed it and left the shop after Carewyn.

x~x~x~x

The Jack followed Carewyn out of the general store and then to the trolley stop. He climbed onto it right after her, and upon catching sight of her moving toward the very back left corner of the car, he moved after her, taking a seat right beside her.

Duncan sneaked a covert glance at the girl out the side of his eye.

She really didn't resemble Jacob at all...did Carewyn take more after her mother, while Jacob took after their father, or vice-versa? If it weren't for their identical eyes, Duncan would've been tempted to think they didn't share blood.

"Why did you follow me?"

Duncan blinked. Carewyn hadn't even looked up, when she asked this. Instead she looked out the window on the other side of her.

"I saw you standing at the back of the general store," she said lowly. "You didn't browse through any of the inventory or even get in line. All you did was watch me work and then talk to Mr. Pique when he came in."

Her blue eyes narrowed upon Duncan's reflection.

"...What do you want?"

Her eyes may have been colored and shaped like Jacob's...but in that moment, so sharp and piercing and full of distrust, Duncan was almost reminded more of Patricia Rakepick's.

Duncan's surprise melted away into something more serious.

"I came to talk to you, actually," he said.

Carewyn raised her eyebrows.

"Recently my subordinate has been getting a lot of...mysterious packages, delivered by a shopgirl with ginger hair," said Duncan. His eyes flitted down to the light blue package in Carewyn's lap. "No name, no note -- no return address...but all in Pique's distinct light blue paper."

Carewyn's eyes grew a little bit smaller.

"...And this 'subordinate' of yours...?"

"Jacob Cromwell is his name," said Duncan. His lips curled up in a small smirk. "Your brother, if I'm not mistaken."

Carewyn turned around to look at Duncan properly, her eyes very wide. Then something in the back of them brightened.

"...Ashe," she breathed through a smile. "You're Duncan Ashe!"

Duncan's smirk broadened. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course!" said Carewyn. "Jacob's told Mum and me all about you."

Duncan's heart fluttered. Jacob had told his family about him...?

"...Has he?" he asked softly.

"Well, he talks about you a lot," said Carewyn, and she had to stifle a giggle behind her hand. "If either Mum or I ask after you, he'll ramble on and on until he's completely run out of breath."

Duncan gave a cynical laugh. "Well, give Jacob just about any subject, and I daresay he'll do the same thing..."

Despite saying this, though, Duncan couldn't mask the light, happy flush painting his face, nor could he deny how warm he felt, thinking of Jacob rambling on about him to someone. Did he talk about his intellect, his cleverness -- his ambition -- his looks, how well he dressed? Surely not -- Jacob was an absolute idiot when it came to picking clothes for himself, Duncan had had to pick out something proper for him to wear to court...but maybe Jacob appreciated how Duncan dressed, despite this? Duncan wished his mind wasn't dancing so giddily with such fancies.

Carewyn's eyes softened.

"Really, though," she said more gently, "Jacob is so grateful for everything you've done for him. And I am too."

Duncan avoided Carewyn's eye. "Well, it's...nothing Jacob didn't earn, really. He's got a brilliant mind -- someone else would've seen it, even if I hadn't..."

Rakepick would've snatched Jacob up in a second, if she could've, Duncan thought, a surge of dislike pulsing through him at the thought of the Ace keenly parsing over one of Jacob's blueprints.

Carewyn shook her head. "But that's just it. My brother is brilliant -- he's always been brilliant -- but so many people have never seen it."

Her gaze drifted back out the window.

"...I was too little to remember all of this, but...when Jacob was young, he was bullied, for being interested in things. Even sometimes for not being interested in other things, like sports, or clubs, or parties. He was beaten down and ignored...and whenever he'd lose his temper or try to fight back, he'd get in trouble for it. Soon the only thing anyone ever saw of Jacob was his misbehavior -- our dad, included."

Duncan stared at Carewyn's reflection in the glass. Her face looked almost heartbroken, thinking this -- as if just recounting what her brother went through physically injured her.

"Jacob tried really hard to be better after I came along, and especially after Dad left us," she said softly. "He had to help Mum look after me...so he worked really hard, for a really long time. He dropped out of school, gave up a lot of dreams...all to try to make sure we had a roof over our heads. And eventually...all anyone ever saw of Jacob was that he was useful. That he could do things they could use for their business -- that he could fix things, or cook things, or file things, and do it all perfectly. They weren't looking for him to talk, or explain, or share, or teach, or think -- they just wanted him to do."

Duncan found his own eyes drifting through the window now, barely seeing either Carewyn's or his reflections now. In his mind's eye, he could see Jacob fixing the trolley door through another window, on another trolley -- see the muscles in his arm flexing -- seeing him smile so brightly --

"Your brother likes being useful," Duncan said softly.

"Of course he does," said Carewyn. "He always has. But that doesn't mean that's all he is."

She turned to smile at Duncan. "That's why I'm grateful you brought him to court. I know Jacob feels useful to you, but not just because of what he can do. You value his ideas -- his hopes and dreams. His drive to challenge the status quo...to shake things up and do real good for people. His passion and his aspirations for a better future. His brain and his heart."

Her blue eyes sparkled as her smile softened.

"Jacob's happy there, with you," she murmured. "Happier than he ever was at those other jobs. He wasn't unhappy, exactly -- those bosses did appreciate what he gave them, and those jobs did help him support us...but, well..."

Her eyes fell down to her hands in her lap.

"...They only wanted one small piece of Jacob. You...want all of him."

Duncan felt his face darkening with a redder flush. He quickly looked away, trying to hide it by covering his mouth, cheek, and chin with his whole hand.

"Well...um..."

Duncan felt very flustered, and he really didn't like it. He shot a look at Carewyn -- fortunately she too still had her eyes averted to her hands in her lap.

He swallowed, trying to recollect himself. When he finally did, his voice came out a bit strained.

"...I...I do want Jacob here," he said lowly. "He's...very special."

To me.

Refusing to let those words leak out, Duncan forced himself to get back to business.

"...He...said that you sent those packages to cheer him up."

Carewyn smiled a bit uncomfortably, her eyes drifting back out the window.

"...Yeah...Jacob's been pretty upset that I took a job too, around my schooling. He said he didn't want me to have to work -- that he'd work twice as hard, so I wouldn't have to...but I can't do that to him. Jacob and Mum have provided for me my whole life...it's my turn to help them, now."

Duncan's eyes betrayed concern. "Is it still so difficult for you? I thought with Jacob's higher salary -- "

"We're not struggling," Carewyn said earnestly. "But well, Jacob and I have still had to share a room my entire life. Jacob needs space. We both do. He needs an office -- a place where he can work on projects outside of work. I need a real closet where I can organize my clothes properly, so I don't have Jacob pairing my socks with his by accident."

She actually pursed her lips a bit, giving off something of a haughty expression. It made Duncan bite back a snort of laughter.

"Jacob's good at earning money and doing without on things, but not budgeting."

"And there is a big difference," said Duncan.

Carewyn nodded. "So Mum and I have been looking at the long-term...and what's holding us back from buying a bigger place is saving up enough for me to afford books and tuition. Jacob wants to just stay where we are and pay for me to go to university...but I don't want that for him. I don't want him to have to do without anymore, when I can help him now. And I wish he wouldn't work so much overtime to try to persuade me otherwise!"

This came out a bit frustrated, despite Carewyn's seemingly best efforts. She looked almost guilty, expressing such emotion in front of Duncan.

"...I'm sorry," she said lowly. "I...know you're Jacob's friend, so I thought I should explain."

"You don't need to apologize," Duncan said at once.

Carewyn still looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Please don't tell Jacob I told you all this," she said quietly. "I know Jacob esteems you...he wouldn't want you to see him as unable to do something."

Something stirred in Duncan's memory.

"I can do it by myself!"

"It's fine, Ashe. I've got it under control. I do."

Then that was it. Jacob hadn't just been lying to Duncan -- he'd been too proud to even accept things as they were himself...too proud to acknowledge he couldn't carry the world all by himself...

Duncan's brows and lips both knit together tightly.

"What I see him as is a complete idiot," he said dryly.

The Jack pulled down on the trolley string to make it stop outside the Palace of Spades. As he got up, Duncan extended a hand to Carewyn as if to help her up.

"Now, then -- Jacob's lab is on the far end, so we'll have to walk briskly, if we're going to deliver your care package to him. I'll need to drive you back in my personal car afterward, if you're going to have any decent time to eat before returning to work..."

Carewyn flushed. "That's all right -- I don't need anyth -- "

"Let me guess -- you've been skipping out on meals, just to bring these packages to your brother on your breaks," Duncan cut her off.

Carewyn shot him a glare through her blush. "There's always something to eat quickly at home -- I can more than manage until then..."

Duncan brought a hand up to his face and shook his head.

"Well, now I see sacrificing for your loved ones is something of a family trait, for you Cromwells. Ugh -- come on, then -- we're picking up your brother, dropping off his chocolates in the lab, and then driving somewhere for a proper meal. Shut your mouth right now and don't bother taking out any money, I won't hear any arguments from you or your brother about it."

x~x~x~x

Despite the sourness he'd spoken with, Duncan still kept his eye trained behind him to make sure Carewyn was keeping up with his longer strides, as he strolled quickly down the hall. And when Jacob looked up to find Carewyn in his lab and practically leapt out of his seat, throwing his arms around her and squeezing her tight as he beamed so happily over her shoulder at Duncan, the Jack of Spades couldn't have possibly obscured the soft, contented rosiness of his face as he watched them.

Jacob did in fact try to argue with Duncan about paying for their supper in full -- and Duncan scolded him just as much as he had Carewyn.

"Don't argue with me, I'm your boss. And no more of these little package deliveries, to cheer you up -- the next time Carewyn wants to bring you something, I intend for her to bring it to you when she's off from work and school, on formal visits..."

Jacob's eyes widened.

"Formal visits?" he repeated, disbelieving. "You mean...Wyn can come see me here, at the Palace?"

Carewyn looked just as stunned herself. "Duncan, you -- you don't have to do that -- "

"I know I don't," Duncan said, averting his eyes uncomfortably, "but I'm doing it. I give my permission -- Carewyn can come whenever she wants."

Jacob and Carewyn both stared. It made Duncan's flush creep up his neck all the more.

"Just as long as you don't get distracted, Jacob," Duncan added, his voice becoming a bit more strained in its defensiveness. "After all, you'll still be at work and earning pay -- it's just easier than making Carewyn use up her break times. And Carewyn seems responsible enough that she won't keep you from your work. Plus it'll quiet a lot of the unnecessary gossip around court about you having a sweetheart sending you packages..."

Jacob's mouth fell open. "What? Oh, come on, Ashe, I told you it wasn't like that -- !"

But Carewyn disregarded this completely. Instead she got up and, opening her arms, gave Duncan a hug.

The gesture made Duncan stiffen, taken aback, and she immediately withdrew, looking a bit guilty.

"I'm sorry," she said quickly, even though she couldn't keep the smile off her face. "It's just...thank you, Duncan. I've never been inside the Palace before, aside from the mail room, and seeing where Jacob's working..."

Her eyes sparkled like gems.

"... Your invitation...it's very generous," she whispered. "Thank you."

Duncan hadn't thought he could go any redder, but somehow he was. Coby would probably be comparing him to a tomato by now.

"Ahem," he cleared his throat awkwardly as he looked away. "...You're welcome."

He glanced at Carewyn out the side of his eye, to see her smiling sympathetically. Maybe she sensed his discomfort -- or maybe, being far more insightful about people than Jacob, she sensed what really fueled it: that stifled, hidden desire to make her brother happy.

Either way, Duncan found himself smiling a bit too, as he looked back at her.

Maybe Carewyn wasn't Jacob's sweetheart...but she did have a very sweet heart, all the same.

[helenadurazzo]

May I get a mood board for Veruca and Diego as Princess and the Frog? 💜

Thanks for the ask!

Veruca as Tiana

Diego as Naveen

Veruca and Diego as Tiana and Naveen (Same Aesthetic)

[catohphm]

HPHM Cardverse AU: Friends Aren’t Faraway

Hey everyone! So I got a small stimulus of inspiration today for Cardverse! Why not flesh out Cato’s friendships with a few of the leading members of the other kingdoms? Two years ago I wrote three fics detailing three of his friendships with the canon OCs, Talbott, Chiara and Badeea. While Cato can regularly interact with his friends at Hogwarts in the canon universe, it’s different for Cardverse. 

The characters are all in different kingdoms, but physical distance cannot crush true friendships! For this post I’ll be focusing on canon HPHM characters, so only Spades and Hearts will be covered. Cato and Penny’s ship will be in another post. I’d love to work on friendships with other people’s OCs - all of you guys are always welcome to send me asks and DMs to discuss ideas! 

Tagging a few mutuals: @carewyncromwell, @dat-silvers-girl, @nerdyliv, @helenadurazzo, @oneirataxia-girl (hope you don’t mind me tagging yall)

Cardverse AU was originally created by @ariparri​, who also is the creator of Veruca McQuaid. With all that said, here’s our feature presentation.

Representing the Land of Clubs, the Ace of Clubs, Cato Reese, often interacts with the officials of other kingdoms. He takes part in meetings where the four kingdoms join to conference on issues that affect all the states. Letters and telephone calls are also used by him to reach his friends in other kingdoms. As a high-ranking Clubs official, he also has the ability ride the train to anywhere in Cinderhaven, with first class accommodations. 

It is important to note that he was appointed to the position of Ace of Clubs by King Orion Amari in the early stages of a crisis in the Country of Spades. He couldn’t reach anyone in Spades because Rakepick’s regime had cut all communications and transport. During that period of time, the only way he’d be able to meet and interact with the Ace and Jack of the kingdom was during conferences. 

Queen Veruca elected to only send her representatives Bill Weasley and Rowan Khanna to them. She was very devoted to her commitments and responsibilities to the citizens of Spades. They depended on her to keep their efforts to take back and rebuild their country organized and morale high. As a result, Cato only heard her in mentions, but he held a lot of respect for her and her ways of handling the crisis. 

Clubs and Spades were in an alliance during the war, in which Cato would lead a surprise attack against Rakepick’s army. He got along well with both Bill and Rowan. With the Ace of Spades, he’d go over strategy, tactics and the innards of the enemy. He and Rowan would discuss the impacts of Rakepick’s actions on Spades and the steps needed to rebuild. While the commander of the Clubs’ military, Cato also had a duty in overseeing law enforcement there. These two circumstances were among the reasons that contributed to him taking the diplomatic and political implications of the matter seriously. 

Outside of their duties, Cato, Bill and Rowan also exchanged details about their lives in their respective kingdoms and their hopes for the future. They continued to maintain contact after the war. With the situations in the kingdoms stabilizing, they would have the time to meet up more often.

Cato also had strong relations with Barnaby Lee and Chiara Lobasca, the Ace and Jack of Hearts, respectively. The two Aces were similar in their styles of leadership. When not at conferences, they at many times would look to each other for inspiration and advice, both in writing and over the phone. Cato also revered the times he’d get a letter or a call from Chiara. She concerned for his well-being and how the situation with Rakepick’s regime was treating him. The Jack also appreciated his ways of balancing his loyalty and accountability to his people with the interests of the other kingdoms.

King Diego of Hearts was impressed when he first heard that young Cato had become Ace of Clubs. He was excited and anticipated his future progress holding the position.  The King was thrilled when he was able to meet up with Cato after his appointment to Ace of Clubs. They enjoyed each other’s company, and his attitude helped Cato’s confidence in his new duties. Diego would catch onto his ability to keep calm and reassure his people in spite of the uncertain and unpredictable nature of the Spades crisis. 

He noted that the Ace of Clubs had the values of Hearts, using his intelligence and knowledge for the benefit of the citizens. While he was sure that Cato would also be just as good in the Kingdom of Hearts, Diego understood that his true place lied with King Orion in Cubs. Nevertheless, Cato was always welcome in Diego’s court, even receiving invitations from him, Chiara and Barnaby from time to time. 

[carewyncromwell]

@ariparri​ I’m definitely getting young!not-yet-Queen!Cardverse!Veruca vibes here 💙

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[akikocho]

This is my contribution to the HPHM Cardverse AU that is created by @ariparri. Thank you for letting me join hehe.

Without further ado, I'm going to introduce you to the King of Diamonds...

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲

The second son of Bruce and Mabel Avery who were known to be close to the previous King and Queen of Diamonds. Malachi is the younger twin brother of Maya, has an older brother named Jacob Bennett and a little sister named Marigold. As a child, he and his two sisters are often being treated as nothing by their father as he's more focused on his older brother Jacob Bennett as he was chosen to be the next King of Diamonds. His mother is the opposite, Mabel wouldn't let her other children be treated as the forgotten members of the Avery household and would often spend her time teaching her children basic education and other things that they need to learn, especially topics related to business and money making.

Years later, Jacob Bennett ran away from home as he is fed up with his father's "education" and being a King isn't in his dream of becoming to be and telling his feelings to a letter that he left for them before he ran away. This led to an argument between Bruce and Mabel and immediately went for a divorce. Mabel left the Diamond Empire and lives at The Country of Spades bringing Maya and Marigold with her as Bruce kept Malachi as he planned to make him as Jacob's replacement. Malachi couldn't bear to be separated from his sisters Maya and Marigold as they were his very close family members but he believes that one day he'll see her and Marigold again. Malachi also gained hatred towards Jacob for running away and leaving is responsibilities. But after his studies under his father's supervision, he started to realize that being a King of Diamonds will be the only way to be away from his dad.

Another years had passed and the years Malachi endured his father's nonstop teaching, he met Penny Haywood the soon to be Queen of Diamonds before the two became the official monarchs. The two became friends very fast due to their same interest in making the Empire better and some other things that are personal for them to tell to others. The two became the King and Queen of Diamonds months later. Malachi and Penny ruled the Empire as what they wanted to be. The people in the Diamond Empire adored them. Both seen by people as the light and purity of the Empire.

Malachi knows about the Civil War and he knows about Rakepick's tyranny. Rakepick wrote a letter to him stating a sponsorship for the war against the people who rebel against her. Rakepick knew about the Empire's wealth and planned to take advantage of it. The Former Ace of Spades threatened the lad by mentioning his twin sister Maya and older brother Jacob were imprisoned for being against her ruling. Malachi gained suspicion on Rakepick's letter and decided to give her the sponsorship she needed and also anonymously gave the same amount to Veruca McQuaid's rebellion group which she hesitantly accepted the offer.

After the war, Malachi reunited with his siblings as they went back from The Country of Spades to Diamond Empire. He also confronted Jacob non stop which led to them having peace with each other. He and Penny are still actively ruling the Empire and enjoying its lively atmosphere.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 ����𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲:

• Malachi is known to be kind, caring, friendly, charming, flamboyant, intelligent and creative. He is good at engaging conversations between people and creatures.

• Very well loved by old women in the Empire due to his positive traits that earned him the title as "The Grandson-in-law candidate". (Based on Kaeya from Genshin impact haha)

• He is also very strategic. Always has planned strategies on how to improve someone's business and wealth.

• After he became King, he removed himself from his father's life and won't be able to see him nor interact with him. Due to that, he suddenly felt the feeling of freedom and relaxation.

• He made his twin sister Maya as the Duchess of Avery Manor. (Since I don't think being a Princess would suit her so yeah lol).

• Good friends with the King and Queen of Hearts. He also would like to meet rulers of the other regions one day.

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

Nauxnsuxns finally finished it. It looks rushed tbh T^T. And it's my first time making a moodboard and I think I suck at making one :'D. Also pls do tell me if I made Veruca too OOC or have some things that I missed or did something wrong in the story :')

Maya and possibly Jacob's information will be posted by morning (it's 12 am in my country XD)

[ariparri]

Now I know why I can’t get over Diego's hairstyle or facial hair 😭 He’s becoming more like Veruca's father, Elroy 😭

New headcanon:

Veruca didn’t see anything wrong with Diego's hair until someone, probably Penny because of course she would, pointed it out and now Veruca can’t unsee it.

Let me break it down for you

Now that I’ve embarrassed myself in front of all of you, listen here.

Elroy and Diego are both Hufflepuffs. Both married to Slytherin women. Both married to rich Slytherin women. Both these women aren’t afraid to get into a fight if they have to. They clearly have a type. And now they have a similar hairstyle and facial hair. Veruca and Diego are becoming her parents!

And because someone said something, Veruca can’t unsee it anymore. But to avoid making it weird Veruca just tells him she prefers the long hair and so Diego doesn’t cut his hair short anymore.

[carewyncromwell]

@ariparri I saw this beautiful gown and immediately thought you'd like it! ;)

Details & full shots of a new commission: Anastasia, of Cinderella! Pretty purples & lovely textures! Bridal satin, jaquard, organza, hand affixed crystals & beads 💜💜 based on art by @noflutter!

[carewyncromwell]

“Stolen moments, gone forever! Well, tables can turn, as my enemies will soon enough learn...”

x~x~x~x

HPHM Cardverse developed by @ariparri​ // brief reference to Maya and Jacob Avery @akikocho​

x~x~x~x

The Jokers’ Domain was always a very lively place. New faces and new acts arrived everyday, and no one day was ever just like the last. But one day that certainly left an impact on a lot of its longtime residents was the day the man who would become known as the Escape Artist first stumbled in.

For one, he was a complete wreck, visually. His pale, bruised face was hemmed in by a mane of long, matted black-brown curls, dripping wet onto his shoulders. He wore only one black boot, and his left pant leg had been almost completely ripped off, the loose blue fabric dangling by the thread off his leg like a cape. And that didn’t even touch the dirty, bloodstained straitjacket he was inexplicably wearing. He’d managed to cut the sleeves open with something sharp -- whatever it was, it’d left his hands bleeding through the fabric. Despite the injuries to his hands, though, he kept his left fist clenched around something round, silver, and covered in green algae -- a pocketwatch emblazoned with the crest of the Country of Spades.

The other thing that made the man memorable, though, was how he so thoroughly trashed several Carnival acts as soon as he arrived, without even meaning to.

The poor man seemed very precarious on his feet, and to make matters worse, he seemed both unable to form words and close to blind -- almost as if he was a newborn baby animal still struggling to master his senses and muscular coordination. Blinking rapidly but seeing almost nothing, he stumbled right into Ismelda Murk’s tent and ended up right in the center of her knife-throwing act. Despite being both overwhelmed by the sounds of the crowd and unable to see clearly, the strange man somehow managed to avoid the throng of knives Ismelda had flung out toward her targets by ducking the first three, dodging the fourth, and even catching the last one in his teeth. Then, dropping the knife at once, he ran out, grunting something indiscernible as he shoved Ismelda’s assistant Beatrice roughly out of his way.

“Ddddeafff -- geottru -- phind -- ”

As soon as the strange extricated himself from Ismelda’s act, though, he ended up barreling right into a fortune teller’s stall and shattering her crystal ball (where he managed to dodge the punch from the owner’s husband); took the reins of a cart and rode it a short way until crashing it into another tent (further damage from which he avoided by somersaulting out at the last minute); and then finally landed right in the midst of Beast Tamer Charlie’s act (which resulted in a dragon getting loose and the man narrowly escaping getting his head taken off by its spiked tail when it took off into the air).

It was one of the Domains’ most respected Jokers, Tulip, who finally put an end to this lively romp by putting her foot out and tripping the new arrival so that he stumbled half-blind into a tub of bobbing apples pushed forward by Tonks. The water splashing in his face seemed to startle the man back to life. He sputtered, shaking his head and wet hair, as he shakily tried to climb back out of the tub.

“Lem -- Lemme aught -- aught -- out -- ”

“Easy, mate,” said Tonks. “We’ll help you out.”

With Tulip’s help, Tonks helped the man up and out of the tub. He was suddenly shaking from head to toe as he blinked rapidly, trying to take in where he was clearly. Some light was slowly coming to life in his eyes as his vision started to clear.

“Morning, sunshine,” Tulip said playfully. “Can you see us now?”

The man blinked at her, then Tonks, then his surroundings. He seemed both incredibly overwhelmed and confused -- the water dripping down his face seemed to startle him again when he registered it and he shook himself fiercely, yanking himself out of Tulip and Tonks’s grip with a loud grunt.

“Nu -- find -- gawtu find -- ”

But Tonks cartwheeled over and cut him off before he could go bolting off again.

"Wotcher, stranger,” she said, holding her hands up to try to both halt and pacify him. “We’re not here to hurt you. At least Tulip and I aren’t -- can’t say the same for the people whose acts you disrupted...”

She jabbed a thumb at Charlie trying to rein in the dragon that was flying free overhead and prompting other Carnival workers to run for cover.

The man seemed to wince slightly, seeing the destruction he’d wrought. Tulip, however, was grinning broadly.

“I thought it was pretty funny,” she said brightly. “I mean, the way you ducked that one bloke’s punch by sliding right between his legs? That was brilliant! And the way you caught Ismelda’s knife in your teeth? You really are quite an escape artist, Mr....?”

Rather than answer, though, the man could only throw his gaze around, his bleary, lost eyes blinking rapidly as he sought out every face he could -- combed through them with desperation. He even at one point pushed Tulip right out of his way, his pale, bruised face resembling a starving man’s as he took in the Carnival tents, grunting anxious gibberish under his breath.

“ -- Dunshe -- dddeaff -- kairla find...”

Tulip frowned as she shared a side-long glance with Tonks. The pink-haired Joker then approached Jacob a bit more gently.

“It looks like you’re bleeding, mate,” she said. “Here...”

She materialized a handkerchief seemingly out of nothing, dipped it in the remaining water from the apple bobbing bucket, and then tried to wipe some of the blood off of his temple. In doing so, Tonks ended up brushing some of the hair out of the stranger’s face, making his skull-like, almond-shaped blue eyes easier to see.

“He’s a Cromwell!”

Tonks and Tulip looked up, startled, as Beatrice pushed through the crowd, Ismelda not far behind.

“I know those eyes,” she said, pointing right at the stranger with narrowed eyes. “Only the Cromwell Clan jewelers have eyes like those. He must be from the Diamond Empire!”

“Weird to be from Diamonds, if he’s carrying one of these,” said Tulip.

She held up the pocketwatch the stranger had been carrying up until then, letting it dangle off its chain. The man got very agitated seeing that Tulip had snatched the watch from him and immediately made a furious move as if to retrieve it, but Tonks circumvented him by stomping down hard on his foot.

“Sorry, mate, but I can’t let you hurt my best bud,” Tonks said in a bracing voice. “Now you want to tell us who you are? Maybe even just a name we can call you, if that’s too much?”

The man, however, didn’t answer. Instead, without getting up off the ground, he rolled right across the ground, right past Tulip and Tonks. When Beatrice and Ismelda tried to stop him, he weaved around them, snatching one of Ismelda’s spare knives out of her belt as he went. Then he cut several ropes on the nearest tents, making them come flopping down around the surrounding Jokers -- the mayhem that ensued allowed the man to snatch the pocketwatch back from Tulip, before he ran off into the woods and out of sight.

And that was the day the strange man who’d stumbled his way into the Jokers’ Domain with no name or awareness of who or where he was gained the title of the Escape Artist.

x~x~x~x

Somewhat surprisingly, the Escape Artist did return to the Jokers’ Domain after that whole fiasco. He actually came back with his face and straitjacket looking cleaner than before, dressed in new boots and pants, and bearing some reimbursement for the damage he’d done in the form of several small bags full of rubies, diamonds, and sapphires. He even gave knife thrower Beatrice the additional gift of an onyx ring, which -- although too big to wear on her ring finger -- still fit her thumb.

“They didnert know me,” the Escape Artist told her. “De Cromwell Clan Joolers. Bu’ thanks anyway.”

His words were shockingly articulate compared to when he appeared in the Jokers’ Domain several months prior, but he still seemed to have some trouble articulating certain consonants. He also seemed unable to answer simple questions like what his name was or what he was looking for, even though it was obvious that he was searching for something. These things clearly weren’t indicative of his intelligence, though -- at one point on his second trip, he sought out Tulip, showing off the pocketwatch she’d tried to take from him.

“Th’shell is Di-mound Em-pyre silver,” he said, his eyes narrowed with determination despite the sloppiness of his words. “Bu’the balance and gears air steel -- de likes o’ which aren’t Di-mound -- andchu sed t’was weird, fer me chu have one o’ these. Hoo’as a watch lie dis, dat chu’ve seen?”

Tulip’s lips knit together a bit more tightly. “Don’t know if I should say...are you planning to go running off to find that person next, if I tell you?”

The Escape Artist nodded.

“She’s right dangerous,” Tulip warned him. “Probably wouldn’t take kindly to you barging into her country and causing havoc. Not that I mind havoc,” she added with a wry grin, “That’s always good fun. And honestly, I’d say Patricia Rakepick is long overdue for some real chaos..."

“Patricia Rakepick?” repeated the Escape Artist. He said the name perfectly clearly and in an oddly sharp tone of voice.

“Yup. Once the Ace of Spades, now having styled herself Queen of the lot. She’s made herself quite a Tyrant, so I’ve heard.”

The Escape Artist’s eyes seemed to have gone very dark and murky as he took a step back and turned away. Tulip cocked her eyebrows at him, interested.

“Do you know her?” she asked.

“No,” said the Escape Artist. He glanced over his shoulder at Tulip, his skull-like eye shining with determination. “Bu’ hi intend to.”

As he started to walk back toward the flap of the tent, Tulip stopped him.

“Hold on,” she said. “If you’re planning on starting anything, you should at least take a few calling cards.”

She gave him a small handful of playing cards. When he unfurled them the way a dealer would a hand, the dark-haired man saw they were all various designs of Joker cards.

“Patricia Rakepick’s been looking for enemies to target lately,” said Tulip. “Best make sure she knows that it’s us who’s giving her a headache, rather than any more innocent bystanders. If nothing else, we Jokers don’t need any Hearts or Diamonds stealing the credit!” she said a bit more mischievously.

The Escape Artist considered the cards for a moment before pocketing them with a shrug and turning to go again.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Escape Artist?” Tulip called after him, her face becoming a bit more serious. “Escaping the Country of Spades is hard enough on its own -- trying to escape its Tyrant, once she has you in her sights? That’s quite a dragon to poke in the eye.”

If the dark-haired Joker heard her, he didn’t respond.

Tulip’s lips curled up in a weak, faintly cynical smile as she turned her back on the tent flap through which the Escape Artist had left.

“Let the game begin...”

x~x~x~x

When the Escape Artist arrived in Spades, he was taken aback by how much colder it was, compared to the Jokers’ Domain. But hey, that’s what happens when you stroll on into the Country of Spades in the middle of winter.

Sadly the Escape Artist was a bit ill-equipped to buy anything -- Spades’ trade had abruptly become highly regulated with Rakepick’s rise to power, and the Escape Artist lacked the identification needed to purchase any warmer clothing from the local shops. Fortunately he finally found a man shivering in an alley who was willing to trade his old red waistcoat for one of the large diamonds the Escape Artist had "acquired” while escaping the Cromwell Clan Jewelers. The coat was decorated with little black buttons shaped like spades -- the Escape Artist found himself fiddling with them off-and-on for the next hour, oddly charmed by their shape.

He felt like he’d had buttons like these once...maybe on a waistcoat like this one. He liked this shade of red.

As the Escape Artist strolled along, he earned quite a few side-long glances for his strange attire. The waistcoat wasn’t strange exactly -- a bit bright, perhaps, but otherwise normal -- but the straitjacket-turned-shirt was definitely odd, as was the length and shagginess of the man’s hair. There was also something oddly ghostly about his features -- his complexion was so pale and his eyes were so sunken-in that his face resembled a skull. Not to mention he kept rambling only half-decipherable nonsense to himself under his breath --

“Kwite a drear locale...de road’s blocked off, dat’s new...where’s de shop? Dere we go...s’all closed up. I know it, dun I? ...Dun I...know it...?”

The Escape Artist wandered quite a while. It was honestly like his feet were on autopilot, not even consulting his brain for a destination. Before he knew it, he’d ended up outside the castle of Spades. It was as he ended up in the shadow of the old clock tower that he found himself finally slowly coming to a stop, his eyes drawn up to it.

It was beautiful, wasn’t it? With its ornate iron spire and baronial architecture...must be just under 200 feet high...190, perhaps? Why, the turret clock’s face alone would have to be at least ten feet in diameter, and all made out of the most beautiful opal stained glass...

Its beauty was...foreboding, somehow. It chilled the Escape Artist to his core, just looking at it. The light behind that glass just seemed so lukewarm...warding him off, rather than beckoning him closer...

“He -- he was assassinated -- ”

The Escape Artist suddenly felt like his throat had sealed up. He clutched his head, choking painfully -- he felt a pair of black eyes on him, boring into him gravely --

“Then you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?” “ -- you’ll go after?”

It was too much. Overwhelmed with pain, the dark-haired man quickly withdrew, unable to stay in the shadow of the clocktower any longer.

He withdrew so quickly, though, that he took no notice of the soldiers that had entered the courtyard to confront him until he ran right into them.

“Hey!” one of them said indignantly. “Watch where you’re going, you!”

The Escape Artist stumbled back at the collision, but didn’t bother responding to the officers -- instead he impatiently tried to move past them. His head was pounding too badly for him to think straight...

“Hold it right there!” snapped the officer.

He grabbed the back of the Escape Artist’s coat and roughly pulled him back.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” he demanded.

“Dis spot ‘urts me,” mumbled the Escape Artist absently.

The other officer fixed him with a scornful, incredulous look. “It hurts you? Well, you’re gonna be feeling a lot more hurt, if you don’t apologize to my buddy right now for running into him -- ”

“Sorry,” the Escape Artist cut him off dully. “Now woncha kind-y bugger off...”

He made as if to leave again, but the officer holding him pulled him back so roughly he almost ripped his coat.

“What’d you say?” he snarled. “You have any idea who we are, you little pipsqueak?”

The Escape Artist’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dig to his modest height. “A pair o’ peabrains, fro’what I can see.”

The second officer grabbed hold of Jacob’s collar, looking ready to choke him.

“Troublemaker, huh?” he sneered, his teeth bared like a dog’s. “How about we just throw you in the slammer -- let you cool your ankles in some chains for a night?”

Chains. The Escape Artist remembered those -- there were manacles on both his ankles and his wrists -- binding him to a wall, locking him to cold stone --

Until he broke those chains. He broke them open. He then picked open the lock on the door and fled, overpowering the rifle-toting guard by the door with his bare hands and snatching the keys from a room two floors up --

The Escape Artist raised his head, his skull-like blue eyes flashing like gems as his lips unfurled in a crazed, manic smirk that made the officers shrink back.

“Y’think y’could ‘old me?” he whispered. “Go on then -- giv’it yer best go!”

Out of nowhere, he abruptly slammed the helmet on the second officer’s head down hard enough to stun him. Then, within seconds, he‘d slipped right out of the red coat, kneed the first officer in the groin, and snatched back his coat, slipping it back on as he ran across the courtyard.

“Augh -- ow -- don’t let him get away!” shouted the second officer.

The two men immediately pursued, chasing the Escape Artist throughout the palace grounds for what felt like hours. In that time, more and more officers arrived to try to fence him in, but to no avail. The Spades soldiers had no idea how this man could have such extensive knowledge of the palace’s grounds that he could navigate its winding halls with seemingly so little effort -- was it just luck on his part, or perhaps intuition? Was he really just that smart that he could figure out where there were likely to be emergency exits and how best to scale staircases and walls to avoid them? And worse still -- with every move this man made, he was making his way closer and closer to the throne room -- closer to the Queen of Spades --

Sure enough, that was the path the Escape Artist ended up taking, whether consciously or not. And when he arrived in the throne room and first lay eyes on the woman named Patricia Rakepick, he found himself once again frozen, stock still, just as he had been in the courtyard south of the clocktower.

“You!” “YOU KILLED HIM! YOU KILLED HIM!” “ -- a danger as long as he’s alive -- ” “This is for the Queen -- !”

The Escape Artist’s head was throbbing with pain just looking at the woman sitting in that strangely familiar throne, dressed in gold-trimmed, military-worthy white and black. He felt himself shaking from head to toe as his eyes bore into her, struggling to focus through the blinding rage in his blood --

He didn’t know her. He knew he’d never seen her before in his life. And yet --

It was only because of the pain and confusion throbbing through the Joker’s head distracting him that the Army of Spades was able to catch up with him and -- with their superior numbers -- finally restrain him. They locked him in irons, with several officers pinning him to the floor on his stomach so he couldn’t get up.

“Mr. -- uh -- Whoever-You-Are -- you’re under arrest!”

“Does he have identification?”

“Don’t think so -- all he’s got in his pocket are some gems and a small deck of Joker cards -- ”

“So he’s a Joker?”

“What’s your name, Joker?”

“Dunno, dun care,” spat the Escape Artist, “an’ eve’if I did, I would nah tell th’ likes o’ chu, you shag-bag scrubs -- !”

The highest-ranked officer stepped on the back of the Joker’s curly head so as to roughly slam his face into the polished floor.

Rakepick’s face was arrogant when she finally rose from her throne and strode over to get a better look at who her subordinates had captured. She even used the toe of her boot to prompt the man to tilt his head from his position on the floor enough that she could better see his face.

When she did, however, the Tyrant of Spades’s face went as white as a sheet.

“It can’t be,” she breathed.

The Escape Artist stared up at Rakepick, his skull-like almond-shaped blue eyes boring into her in a mix of confusion and distrust. The lack of recognition in his eyes made Rakepick’s eyes widen further as she took a step back, throwing her gaze to the far window, through which one could see the clocktower in the distance. Yet it was like she didn’t see it or the window -- instead her gaze was cloudy, as if her mind was racing with thoughts.

“Your Majesty?”

An older woman with an orange streak in her gray bangs had come up behind the lesser officers, her arms folded behind her back in military posture. She was even dressed similarly to Rakepick, though colored black and violet, with a “J” emblazoned on her lapel.

“Madam Jack...” murmured one of the higher-ranked officers. The title made the Escape Artist twitch.

“Madam Jack?” There was no “Madam Jack” -- there was no -- !

But the woman called the Jack ignored both the Escape Artist twitching on the floor and her subordinate.

“What shall we do with the prisoner?” she prompted Rakepick.

Rakepick’s eyes darted down to the supposed Jack of Spades and then to the Escape Artist still fidgeting restlessly on the floor. Somewhere in her eyes, he could almost see something oddly tense, which then seemed to slowly chill and harden like ice before his eyes.

“Lock him in our strongest irons inside our base’s highest security cell under heavy guard,” the Tyrant of Spades said coldly. “I do not want him escaping us again.”

The soldiers holding the Escape Artist seized him, forcibly lugging him back up onto his feet. The Escape Artist tried to bolt out of their grip, but the chains binding him combined with the five men all holding him gave him no adequate leverage to pull free. As they dragged him out of the throne room with all of their strength, some of the soldiers could just barely catch some of the Tyrant and her Jack’s whispered exchange.

“ -- was dead?”

“He is dead -- ”

“Then how do you explain him? Or is that man a ghost sent back to haunt me?”

The tenseness in their leaders’ voices filled up the lesser officers with considerable dread as they led this mysterious prisoner out of the palace of Spades and through the courtyard toward the base just northward. As they went, they had to pass by the clock tower, where a very cold, supernatural wind swiped through them, on its way back toward the bell tower.

Another poor soul imprisoned by the likes of Rakepick, the ghost of Duncan Ashe thought grimly, as he faded away through the stone walls. How many more would there be, until Veruca was able to wrench control back out of Rakepick’s control...?

x~x~x~x

What happened next just about no one can fully agree on. The most credible account after the fact ended up being that of Maya Avery, a prisoner at the time who was associated with the resistance against Patricia Rakepick. Following her and her brother Jacob Avery’s escape from the base of Spades’ prison, she explained the serendipity of the circumstances thusly --

“The Tyrant’s men had brought this strange messy-haired man into custody. I remember because there were about five soldiers all holding onto his chains, just to keep him from escaping, as they dragged him past my cell. As he passed, he looked me over with this really focused look. Later that night, I heard a lot of ruckus, and when I got up, I saw him barreling past the cells, dragging four whole chains on his wrists and ankles behind him. When he saw me, he dashed up to my cell and told me to give him one of my hairpins. I tried to ask him what for, but he didn’t even answer -- he just snatched it right out of my hair and then bent it all out of shape! I was a bit cross at first, of course -- but then he set about picking the lock to my cell with it and then left the door open.

“‘There,’ he said. ‘Normally I’d offer to pay you, but I think this is probably more useful. The keys are two floors up, three doors down on your right, if you want them -- they’ll probably be too busy chasing me to notice you.’ His words were really slurred, so he said it a bit more messily than that, but you get the idea.

“Anyway, by then, he’d picked the locks on his manacles and he just ran off down the hall to the left. So I took his distraction and went to go get the keys so I could get Jacob and some of the others out. When we got up top, we found the whole base in disarray. The bloke from before must’ve stolen one of those new Mecha suits Rakepick’s been developing, and he used it to torch the warehouse holding the rest of them in it. Then he used the one he was in to bust his way right through the stone wall and hightail it right out of Spades. It was brilliant -- it was terrifying, of course, trying to escape that big of a fire...but still, it was brilliant.”

However the Escape Artist managed to trash every single one of the Mecha suits Rakepick had commisioned, though, two things were certain -- one, Patricia Rakepick was very, VERY angry that the Escape Artist had gotten away; and two, those who cursed the so-called “Tyrant of Spades” proposed a toast at the destruction of her newest “toys.” Even the ghost of Duncan Ashe, upon learning what happened from Veruca, seemed notably satisfied by the news.

“Jacob sketched out those suit designs with the thought of making mining safer and easier,” he admitted after some prompting, his gaze drawn away through the opal glass of the clock face. “They were supposed to help people, not be weapons of war.”

If Veruca hadn’t been so close to him at the time, she would’ve never caught the Counselor’s ghost’s melancholy whisper as he closed his eyes, fading away into supernaturally cold air.

 “...Jacob only ever wanted to do good for people. When he was alive...that’s all he ever wanted to do...”

[oneirataxia-girl]

⇝ STORY/ART EXCHANGE -- First "I Love You"

my part of the story/art exchange with the talented and gorgeous @ariparri!! she requested the first "i love you" between her oc Veruca McQuaid and a character from the video game hogwarts mystery Diego Caplan and she gave the green light for me to share this with y'all!! thank you again for doing this trade with me ari!! if you ever need another fic for dieruca just hmu, i'll do it free of charge <33

It was another one of their usual dates -- not that anything with Diego Caplan could be considered usual, but sometimes, Veruca McQuaid appreciated the familiarity of a red carnation and the stunning smile of her charming handsome man more than any surprise said handsome man could cook up in his clever head.

By sometimes, she meant all the time. Just like how her head rested on Diego’s shoulder, tilted up to watch the stars in their never-ending dance, and how in her hair tucked a carnation the color of her cheeks when a certain someone’s charm got too much to handle.

There was a quietness to the couple, a quietness that didn’t need to be interrupted with awkward chuckles and attempts at conversation. Even without sneaking a peek, some part of Veruca knew that Diego was more interested in the light in her eyes than that of the skies, but she kept her gaze on the night sky still, green eyes trained on the cold white glow above, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“Veruca?” Softly uttered, a barely-there ask of her name.

Green eyes left the skies and onto the brown-haired boy beside her.  

Coughing, Diego’s fingers tucked a lock of raven-black hair behind Veruca’s ear. An odd expression was etched on his face, a mix of adoration (that was something she saw in her own face when Diego was around), happiness (that too, was often mirrored by her), worry (wait, what?), and something else she wasn’t sure of.

His hand hadn’t left her face yet, Veruca felt her head lean into his warm palm like a reflex, something she knew to do without having to even think about it; and met brown eyes with her green.

That mix of emotions was still there on his face, unguarded and wide-eyed and smiling softly. Diego’s palm squeezed her cheek for a second more, then left her face at the same time as the odd look faded from his face.

She finally found her voice, “Did you want something?” 

Her question must’ve been a knife, slicing through the quietness blanketing them, because Diego huffed out a small “heh” of amusement and shook his head quickly.

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

The second time that the look struck was when Veruca sat across from him in a tight-packed cafe, sipping coffee in painted floral china and watching another couple a few tables away from them showing off their abilities of not needing to breathe.

“How long do you think they’ll last?” she smiled at that, placing her cup on its glod-framed plate.

Tapping her cheek in thought, Veruca’s eyes flitted away from the kissing couple,  “Five minutes,” her smile widened at the boy whose face held a cheshire cat grin that echoed her own, “what’s your guess?”

Light bounced off Diego’s brown hair as he shook it, “Why would I think about that when you’re here with me?”

Warmth bloomed over her cheeks, heat creeping up her forehead and down her neck. Veruca sipped her tea in reply, hoping that the teacup could hide the lower part of her face -- judging by the smirk that spread over Diego’s face though, it didn’t work.

They were back in Hogsmeade for a date of sorts -- more accurately, Veruca was just back to drop off something for Dumbledore, and her boyfriend, ever the charming suiter, pulled out his puppy eyes and asked for a pre-duel date. 

He then linked their arms together and Apparated the both of them to the little town outside Hogwarts before Veruca could even ask what was on his agenda for this little date.

With a smiling sigh, Veruca finished her tea and pressed the heel of her other hand to her cheek, hoping that her hand would chase away the warmth from her face. The crampedness of the little shop didn’t do her any favors; being a weekend, the day brought couples from the school down to Madame Puddifoot’s for a heated cup of tea (and a heated makeout session, but that was neither here nor there). She wasn’t particularly enamored by the frilly pink-washed shop, but since this was a “stroll down the memory lane”, as Diego called the way he held her hand while they tracked down old haunts and memories, she’d agreed to stop in the cafe; after all, they did come here for one of their first -- Veruca wasn’t sure what to call that time when Diego successfully discovered her favorite flower then took her for a walk in the woods and a cup of tea in Madame Puddifoot’s. 

A clink of china tugged her back to the lacy tablecloth in front of her. Green eyes glanced up just in time to see that same odd look from their picnic date night reappear in Diego’s chocolate-colored eyes: the mix of happiness, adoration, and worry (she still had no idea why that would show up; was Diego planning a surprise for her and didn’t want her to find out?), and the something she couldn’t read.

Veruca brought her teacup down silently; reaching for Diego’s hand, she wrapped her fingers around his with no problem. The action seemed to tug the boy from his thoughts back to the bustling reality, and he swapped his smirk for a softer, gentler smile.

“Did you know you look really pretty in that outfit?” Came the question before Veruca could ask one of her own.

She glanced down at her clothes: it was her usual attire of a purple top and a floral dress, with the addition of the coat and gloves she would don while doing her job; hardly anything unusual about it, not to mention “really pretty”.

Looking back up, Diego held a red carnation in his hand. Sqeezing hers in the hand that was still interlaced with her fingers, he leaned over to tuck it behind her ear.

“But now you look fantastic.”

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

Veruca circled Diego, noting how his body pulled taut in anticipation for her to make a move; she knew her posture mirrored his, her heartbeat crescendoing as she went over the spells she aimed to use in her head once more.

He struck first -- she dodged the bolt of red light, casting her own charm in retaliation.

Multicolored flashes lit the room as she blocked, dodged, and fired spells. A strand of her hair came loose from her messy bun and blocked her vision; she moved to bat it away.

That second of carelessness was all it took.

“Flipendo!”

A grunt escaped her lips as Veruca was knocked off her feet.

A wand barely scraped the skin of her throat.

Silence.

“And that, my dear, is why you should tie your hair tighter.”

Diego stood above her, ready to help her up.

She grabbed his hand readily, pushing the rogue strands of her dark hair back, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

That got a chuckle out of her boyfriend, and he tugged her to the bench outside of the dueling ring.

Sitting down and popping open the cap to her bottle, Veruca gave Diego a quick once-over: it wasn’t obvious, but he was just a little bit nervous. The dueling season had arrived once more, and another match for him was coming soon; she had no doubts about Diego’s capabilities as a duelist -- in fact, Veruca felt sorry for the poor person who was about to get their pride demolished and their ego bruised -- but she knew that apprehension went hand-in-hand with anticipation, and she also knew that the best thing to do when Diego was nervous was to --

“Hey!” His voice held no real malice as Veruca nudged the crook of his neck with the top of her head, “What’s this for?”

Mouth twitching upwards at the smile in his voice, she replied, “It’s bad to think so hard, Caplan; you might die of overheating.”

“Ah,” he laughed, “but that’d require me to not overheat at the sight of you.”

Veruca hid her rapidly heating face by poking Diego’s middle with a soft finger.

At this rate, she would be the one to die of overheating.

He only laughed louder and moved Veruca away from his neck; eyes twinkling, he pressed a chaste kiss on her burning forehead and leaned back on the drab green of the bench. Veruca’s forehead creased lightly as she watched his eyes fixate themselves on something that wasn’t there, the furrows deepening when he showed no sign of pulling himself from the bubble of his presumably-uneasy thoughts.

It wasn’t out of the blue for Diego to be nervous, but it never got easier for Veruca to watch him go into these anxiety-induced bubbles; it was like they were separated by an invisible barrier, one that not even reducto could bring down. 

The only thing she could do to help when he got stuck like this was to be here, at his side with his hand in hers, pushing his shoulder-length hair back when it dropped in front of his eyes, to just be a presence that he could lean into, for him to know that he wasn’t alone and that someone just knew that he was going to do well no matter the opponent he was to face.

So, she stayed like that, a quiet pillar of support that Diego could lean on. Veruca was never good with words, but she didn’t need them to let him know that she was there, that she was the shoulder he could lay his head on without eyes to judge him.

After a while, a weight lifted himself from her shoulder.

Veruca turned to meet the eyes of Diego Caplan, eyes the color of coffee and chocolate and the soil that they planted the carnation seeds they’d gotten in, eyes that swirled with a quiet adoration that she was sure he could see in hers as well.

There were some other emotions in those brown eyes too; Veruca wasn’t in the mood to decipher them though.

Veruca was never one for lovey-dovey “It was like the sun came out of the clouds when he smiled”s or “his smile was like an angel actually came down from the heavens”s, but watching Diego’s face slowly grow more animated was actually as if the rain stopped and the gray clouds were chased off by marshmallow-white clouds, and she emotions could only brighten as he did.

And she only beamed brighter when Diego offered her a carnation transfigured from a stray pleat from the rug in the dueling circle, his own grin cheerier than before.

Standing up, Veruca offered her hand to him, “Think you’re ready for another match?”

His hand wrapped itself around hers.

“I’d like nothing more, my dear.”

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

Pushing yet another stray lock of her behind her ear, Veruca wondered if she should take up Diego’s advice and ditch the messy bun look -- it was getting irritating to have to brush her hair away every time she made a sudden movement or two.

She probably won’t be changing her hairstyle anytime soon, but it never hurt to browse through some possible options. 

But, that was something for another time; right now, Veruca needed to complete the scene she’d set out to create before Diego found her. So she placed the plate of grapes and cherries down on the checkered tablecloth and moved the pair of wine glasses to make sure that they wouldn’t fall and potentially smash into myriads of tiny little pieces.

Pulling out the wine from the basket she brought, Veruca smiled at the label wrapped around the bottle: a bottle from Limmiani wine products, just like the rose wine they drank when they had -- 

Was it foolish to blush when one was thinking of their first kiss? Veruca was pretty sure it was at least some degree of lame while she fanned herself with her free hand to cool herself down, setting the bottle of wine down and moving on to the loaves of bread and cheeses she stowed in the wicker basket.

The occasion? A celebration, one to celebrate Diego’s win against his opponent in the dueling match. She’d already started preparing this morning when Diego pressed a quick kiss to her cheek for luck and hurried off to do some last-minute preparation, but when Tonks gave her the go-ahead to set out the picnic, she let out a breath of relief that her boyfriend had won yet again and hurried to Westside Park to set up everything.

With a sigh, Veruca sat back on her heels, darting eyes making sure that not a single thing was out of place. It would never do to have spilled wine or food or anything just as disastrous, and she aimed to do everything in her power to prevent it. 

A wave of her wand and yellow flickers danced on the walls and floors of the pavilion as orbs of light floated up obediently and settled in various places, illuminating a little circle around the picnic.

“Just like stars,” A voice remarked, one that Veruca turned around immediately at, “Is this the reason you were busy, my dear?”

Diego must’ve changed before he came here, exchanging his dueling outfit for a sleeker, more elegant look that brought out all his best features more than his usual clothes. Veruca threw a hasty glance up at the glowing spheres, sighed a soundless sigh of relief when none of the shining globes seemed to be one second from implosion, then nodded at her boyfriend.

“Do you like it?”

Laughs escaped Diego as he tried to touch one of the orbs with the bouquet of carnations he had in hand, only for it to float even higher, spinning in place as if jeering at his inability to fly like it could, “Like it?” He asked, crossing the gazebo to scoop Veruca in his arms, much to her surprised laughs, “I love it! Just as much as I love you --”

Green eyes widened.

Brown eyes did too, after a second that was crawled for more like a year.

Slowly, Veruca was set down on her feet, Diego’s face now showing that mix of emotions once more, Veruca wasn’t sure if the world suddenly got its noise turned off or if was it just her ears blocking everything but Diego’s words.

And the worry in that look made sense -- Diego didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or feel pressured to say it back.

“-- And you don’t have to say it back, just so you know; take as much time as you need to --”

“Yeah,” Veruca found herself interrupting, nodding her head (her face was probably the same color as the red cherries on the picnic blanket), “Should we continue?”

“Yeah,” 

Green eyes met brown, “Yeah.”

They sat on the checkered blanket and Veruca opened the bottle of wine, pouring out a generous portion for both of them. Meanwhile, Diego popped a few cherries into his mouth.

He took his glass with a quiet “thank you” and a small flash of his white teeth. She responded with her own little smile, reaching for a grape herself.

There was a quietness to them, not a completely comfortable one, but it wasn’t completely uncomfortable either. It felt less like a serene bubble and more like a hamster ball, like the stillness between them was a snowball on the top of a mountain, ready to start rolling at the smallest movement.

“Look!” 

Veruca peered in the direction Diego pointed.

It was a butterfly, blue wings the color of a sunny sky, weaving through the spheres of light Veruca made, up and up towards the star-speckled sky.

Stars.

Millions of them were scattered throughout the blackness, twinkling like tiny jewels on a ballgown; Veruca didn’t think she remembered another time when the skies were like this.

It was beautiful. 

“--, right?”

Green eyes turned to meet brown once more, but the brown of Diego’s eyes was fixed on the tango of the stars; the corners of Veruca’s mouth turned up a little bit.

“Yeah,” She leaned her head on his shoulder, “it is beautiful.”

The snowball melted, leaving only a sphere of peace around her and Diego. 

Her head shifted as Diego moved, “I meant it, you know.”

Veruca’s head moved to look up at him with questioning eyes.

He smiled at her inquiring gaze, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders, “About you taking your time. You don’t have to say it right now, or tomorrow, or even ever; just say it when you’re ready, Veruca.”

She couldn’t help it -- surging up to press a kiss on Diego’s lips, then pressing her forehead to his.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

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

Morning rays seeped through the woven threads of the kitchen curtains, soft rays creeping across the room as Veruca took a sip of her coffee, hair still down and mussed from sleep.

The smell of pancakes filled the room, Diego must’ve finished making a batch of them.

“Berries on your pancakes?” He asked, already adding them to a plate.

“Yes please,” Murmured Veruca, frowning at the empty mug in her hand.

Standing up, she moved towards the coffee pot, grabbing another mug from the little mug tree on the counter. Hands gently moving Diego so that she could get to the machine, Veruca found herself smiling at seven am when her boyfriend pressed a quick peck on her forehead.

And she would’ve gotten assaulted by a flurry of even more kisses too, had she not nudged his head away from her and back to the two plates of pancakes on the kitchen counter, “Just trying to get some coffee here.”

“Actually, it’s over there,” Diego chuckled as that quip earn him a soft punch to the arm, “But thanks for getting some for me, my dear.”

“Who says anything about you getting some coffee?”

“I’m pretty sure that Gambat doesn’t need coffee to be cheeky, unlike someone else I know.”

Veruca huffed in mock anger, then finally found her way to the savior of mornings, the coffee machine.

Pouring the drink and adding the creamers and sugars were second nature to her at this point, she didn’t need to think as she stirred the coffee and made her way back to the kitchen table -- so no, she didn’t need to think about the coffees, but rather, Veruca was thinking about something else.

Some part of her thought that the blue butterfly from the night when Diego actually said those three words out loud -- it was an improvement that she could think of that without her face betraying her beating heart -- should’ve been one that she recognized, that she should’ve known what that butterfly meant.

She had no idea what that butterfly meant.

Veruca’s hands placed her mug in front of herself, the other in front of Diego, who said a quick word of thanks as he put down the pancakes on the dining table. 

But she did have an idea about something else.

Those three little words -- so much meaning in so simple a sentence -- even the very marrow of Veruca’s magic knew that she felt the same way; her new leopard patronus, the silvery animal that gave her so much surprise when it appeared, could definitely attest to that. But to say that out loud --

“Are you okay, my dear?”

A vase of carnations decorated the kitchen, a vase of flowers that she didn’t even know were her favorite until Diego showed it to her; flowers that he always took the time to get for her because he knew it would make her happy.

“Yeah,” She heard herself say, “I’m just hungry.”

She was here with Diego, he was Veruca’s pillar, and she was his, all because he didn’t stop pursuing her even when she was a complete douche to him.

Three little words.

“Hey, Diego?” 

“Hm?”

One huge meaning.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Another beat.

Was it just the blood rushing through her ears or was everything holding its breath, too?

“You love me?”

She thinks she feels the table exhale like she did.

Veruca glanced up into Diego’s eyes, brown meeting green, and nodded.

Outside the window, the sun completely rid itself of its sleepiness as Diego grinned a smile so wide that it stretched ear-to-ear like he was a kid on Christmas day, “Say it again?”

And Veruca knew she was the same, “I love you.”

“Again?”

She laughed, a merry sound that gave even the berries on her pancakes more color than ever, “I love you!”

Somehow somewhere sometime between the giggles and “I love you”s, Veruca found herself trapped in Diego’s arms again.

Brown and green eyes met each other halfway through, and she touched her forehead on his.

“I love you,” It was a whisper this time, a breath that blew the bubble of serenity around them.

Diego’s eyes held no worry as he combed a flyaway strand of raven-black hair from Veruca’s face, “I love you too.”

[catohphm]

Hogwarts Mystery Cardverse AU: Ace of Clubs Bio - Cato Reese

The Cardverse AU and it’s storyline was created by my friend and mutual @ariparri. Veruca McQuaid belongs to her. Helena, Alessandro and Olivia Durazzo belong to @helenadurazzo.

Cato Reese was born to an affluent family in the Land of Clubs. His father Wilfred worked for the government, while his mother Reilly was a researcher. She studied and wrote books on plants that could be used for medicine and healing. Cato also had an older brother named Alexander.

Because of her job, she became friends with another researcher named Olivia before her son was born. Olivia later got married to Alessandro, a man from another upper-class family. They had a daughter named Helena @helenadurazzo. Cato and Helena would grow up as childhood friends and bond closer as they got older.

Both of his parents encouraged him to learn and do well in school. He became interested in and talented at many subjects in his studies. History, geography, government and science, among others. Cato also developed hobbies with exploring and nature. He was a curious boy that in time would come to learn a lot about his homeland and the other kingdoms.

When Cato was growing up, the Land of Clubs was a nation that preferred to stay neutral and involve itself in the affairs of others. The military was responsible for protecting the people from crime. As a boy, Cato admired their dedication to their mission. He wanted to join the service and do his part to keep his community safe. 

He realized the vulnerability that the Clubs had when he became a teenager. An enemy might take advantage of the country's neutrality as an easy target and launch an invasion through it. This had a chance at putting the other kingdoms in danger. This realization would further cement his goal of becoming Ace of Clubs, the commander of the nation's army.

After graduating school, Cato enrolled at a military academy that trained new officers for the service. His friend Helena went to college to study for her goal of becoming the Jack, the King's advisor. While they attended different schools as young adults, they would keep in contact during their studies. They got along over their similar mindsets and what they wanted for their country.

Over his time in the academy Cato's leadership style would develop. As Ace, he wanted to put the people first while making sure that the army would be in good shape should an invasion ever happen. He was never the type to go picking fights, but understood that if one wants peace, they should also be prepared for war.

A few years later, he graduated and got an officer's commission. Cato would rise up the ranks and become Ace of Clubs. After, he would start by making sure that his army was well-trained and the troops were in good health. He had training exercises carried out in the woods for practice. Soldiers honed their skills in various forms of combat, physical activity, as well as battle strategy and tactics. Meditation was encouraged as a way to raise morale and spirits. 

As he was also responsible for carrying out and enforcing Laws in the Land of Clubs, he took steps in ensuring that his force was effective at fighting crime. Investigation, negotiation and handling of suspects were priorities. He also emphasized on the military working with the citizens in investigating crime. The people of Clubs knew their land and they would pool their knowledge and skills to track criminals hiding in the forest.

Cato was already Ace of Clubs for a time when turmoil struck the neighboring Country of Spades to the north. The state had fallen to a coup and was now being ruled by a dictatorship led by Patricia Rakepick. She cut off trade and relations with the other kingdoms. However, the original leadership of the Spades managed to escape and sought help from their neighbors. By this time, Orion Amari had become King of Clubs. Before the crisis, Orion was already good friends with Veruca McQuaid @ariparri, the Queen of Spades. Orion agreed to help Veruca. He would have the border between their countries be monitored by the Clubs army led by Cato. Cato's forces would keep an eye out for any invaders that would try to attack or sneak past the border.

When faced with the crisis, Cato had to make a decision. His people still preferred neutrality but there was the risk that Rakepick would try to invade the other kingdoms through the Land of Clubs, which concerned the other kingdoms. The border between the Spades and the Hearts was lined with mountains, which no army could cross. Cato was loyal to the people, the King and his good close friend Helena, the Jack. Ultimately, he decided to take measures to ensure that the Clubs army would be prepared for any escalation in the tense political situation. Cato said "If you want peace, be prepared for war."

[ariparri]

Ahh oh my god 😭😭💜💛

I love it 😭

I'm absolutely speechless! No amount of words can express how I truly feel about this 😭💜 Oh thank you so much I absolutely adore this 💜💙

@hphmsecretsanta

Merry Christmas @ariparri !

I was your Secret Santa this year :>

It’s really good to take a break from my usual heehee and haha and do something different time to time,

I don’t remember the last time I was drawing anything cozy and romantic like that 🤧💗

[akikocho]

ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴡ ɪɴ ᴍʏ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴅᴠᴇʀsᴇ ᴀᴜ (ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ @ariparri ). ɪ'ᴠᴇ sᴘᴇɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏs ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪs ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪᴅᴋ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴍᴀʏᴀ's ɪɴғᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ʜᴜʜᴜ.

ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴏ, ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ 10 ᴏғ ᴅɪᴀᴍᴏɴᴅs: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴄʜᴇss ᴏғ ᴀᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴀɴᴏʀ

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲

The first daughter of Bruce and Mabel Avery. The older twin sister of the King of Diamonds, Malachi, the younger sister of Jacob Bennett and the older sister of Marigold. Growing up being treated as nothing by Bruce, Maya grew a hidden hatred towards him. She's very close with her siblings, especially her twin Malachi. Maya gained knowledge thanks to her mother Mabel who taught her and her siblings the things they needed to learn. As a child, she's into creating machinery and hoped she would become an inventor once she grew up.

Years had passed, Maya and her family were devastated after they knew Jacob had run away from home due to their father's harsh education towards him. Maya's parents fought and eventually got into a divorce. She along with her younger sister Marigold were taken by their mother to move away from the Diamond Empire to the Country of Spades, leaving her twin brother Malachi behind as Jacob's replacement. Just like her twin, she was sad and lonely without her other half but a hint of hope inside her telling her that they will see each other again. Maya studied at the University in the Country of Spades where she learned etiquette and self defense. After her studies, Maya became a journalist and also had a part time job as an inventor's assistant.

As the former Ace of Spades Patricia Rakepick took over the Country of Spades, Maya had an instinct that she needed to do something to stop her. She joined the rebellion that was led by Veruca MCquaid, the King of Spades' sister. During the revolution, Maya wrote an article in every newspaper release about how Rakepick is a ruler that needs to be taken down. Rakepick knew about it and got offended by her "lies". She was sent to prison, where during her imprisonment she met her older brother Jacob who ran away for years in the same cell she's in. Rakepick wants the both of them to be put to death but after knowing that they're related to the King of Diamonds and decides to cease her plan. Both Maya and Jacob escaped from prison not long after that. She was not present at the fall of Rakepick as the ruler of Spades as she along with her brother Jacob and her sister Marigold came back to Diamond Empire and reunited with her twin brother Malachi. Months later, she became the Duchess of Avery Manor.

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𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐚 𝐀𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲:

• Maya is known for her wits, charm, good personality and creativity. Many of the journalists in Country of Spades wants to work with her but turned them down as she plans to quit due to her decision of coming back to her hometown.

• She has a lot of hidden anger towards her father and her brother Jacob to the point she only drinks her feelings out. (Yes, she's an alcoholic in this au xD)

• In the middle of her year of studying at the academy of Country of Spades, her mother died from sickness and became the guardian of her younger sister Marigold.

• She likes to wear male's clothing when she needs to. Especially when it's an outfit for horse riding or/and sleepwear.

• Loves to go to museums. She met Bill Weasley during her visits and they became friends.

• Maya's good with weapons. She loves to use the bow and arrow. Bill taught her how to use a gun once and Maya told him she prefers something other than a gun which earns an awkward laugh from the lad.

• She quit being a journalist but still remains as the inventor's assistant which she travels to the Country of Spades when she's needed.

●◉◎◈◎◉●

2/3 ᴄᴏɴᴛʀɪʙᴜᴛɪᴏɴs ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ! ɴᴇxᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴜɴᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴄᴀɴᴅɪᴅᴀᴛᴇ: ᴊᴀᴄᴏʙ ʙᴇɴɴᴇᴛᴛ ᴀᴠᴇʀʏ.

ɪ'ᴍ ɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ ᴍʏ ʙᴏᴅʏ ɪs ɪᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀ sᴛᴀʏɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴀ sᴘᴏᴛ ғᴜʟʟ ᴏғ ᴍᴏsǫᴜɪᴛᴏᴇs 😭

ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪғɪ ᴄᴏɴɴᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪs ᴡᴏʀᴛʜ ɪᴛ ʟᴏʟ

[dat-silvers-girl]

@ariparri made this one drawing of Veruca and @carewyncromwell's Carewyn and I got inspired to put the shoulder angel and devil on Sarahi's actual shoulder, and I think it came out adorable. ❤️

That quote was literally the first thing that came to my mind when I saw it LoL 😁

Forgive the bad colouring I got confused

[ariparri]

Got a new sketch book! Veruca had the honor of being on the first page 😌

[ariparri]

Aahhhh I know I already read it but I just had to read it all over again 😍

The fluff between them is at maximum overload for me! Aahhhh 😭😍💜

The wait was so worth it! Thank you once again! You exceeded my expectation as always 😍💜

⇝ STORY/ART EXCHANGE -- First "I Love You"

my part of the story/art exchange with the talented and gorgeous @ariparri!! she requested the first "i love you" between her oc Veruca McQuaid and a character from the video game hogwarts mystery Diego Caplan and she gave the green light for me to share this with y'all!! thank you again for doing this trade with me ari!! if you ever need another fic for dieruca just hmu, i'll do it free of charge <33

It was another one of their usual dates -- not that anything with Diego Caplan could be considered usual, but sometimes, Veruca McQuaid appreciated the familiarity of a red carnation and the stunning smile of her charming handsome man more than any surprise said handsome man could cook up in his clever head.

By sometimes, she meant all the time. Just like how her head rested on Diego’s shoulder, tilted up to watch the stars in their never-ending dance, and how in her hair tucked a carnation the color of her cheeks when a certain someone’s charm got too much to handle.

There was a quietness to the couple, a quietness that didn’t need to be interrupted with awkward chuckles and attempts at conversation. Even without sneaking a peek, some part of Veruca knew that Diego was more interested in the light in her eyes than that of the skies, but she kept her gaze on the night sky still, green eyes trained on the cold white glow above, waiting for him to open his mouth.

“Veruca?” Softly uttered, a barely-there ask of her name.

Green eyes left the skies and onto the brown-haired boy beside her.  

Coughing, Diego’s fingers tucked a lock of raven-black hair behind Veruca’s ear. An odd expression was etched on his face, a mix of adoration (that was something she saw in her own face when Diego was around), happiness (that too, was often mirrored by her), worry (wait, what?), and something else she wasn’t sure of.

His hand hadn’t left her face yet, Veruca felt her head lean into his warm palm like a reflex, something she knew to do without having to even think about it; and met brown eyes with her green.

That mix of emotions was still there on his face, unguarded and wide-eyed and smiling softly. Diego’s palm squeezed her cheek for a second more, then left her face at the same time as the odd look faded from his face.

She finally found her voice, “Did you want something?” 

Her question must’ve been a knife, slicing through the quietness blanketing them, because Diego huffed out a small “heh” of amusement and shook his head quickly.

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

The second time that the look struck was when Veruca sat across from him in a tight-packed cafe, sipping coffee in painted floral china and watching another couple a few tables away from them showing off their abilities of not needing to breathe.

“How long do you think they’ll last?” she smiled at that, placing her cup on its glod-framed plate.

Tapping her cheek in thought, Veruca’s eyes flitted away from the kissing couple,  “Five minutes,” her smile widened at the boy whose face held a cheshire cat grin that echoed her own, “what’s your guess?”

Light bounced off Diego’s brown hair as he shook it, “Why would I think about that when you’re here with me?”

Warmth bloomed over her cheeks, heat creeping up her forehead and down her neck. Veruca sipped her tea in reply, hoping that the teacup could hide the lower part of her face -- judging by the smirk that spread over Diego’s face though, it didn’t work.

They were back in Hogsmeade for a date of sorts -- more accurately, Veruca was just back to drop off something for Dumbledore, and her boyfriend, ever the charming suiter, pulled out his puppy eyes and asked for a pre-duel date. 

He then linked their arms together and Apparated the both of them to the little town outside Hogwarts before Veruca could even ask what was on his agenda for this little date.

With a smiling sigh, Veruca finished her tea and pressed the heel of her other hand to her cheek, hoping that her hand would chase away the warmth from her face. The crampedness of the little shop didn’t do her any favors; being a weekend, the day brought couples from the school down to Madame Puddifoot’s for a heated cup of tea (and a heated makeout session, but that was neither here nor there). She wasn’t particularly enamored by the frilly pink-washed shop, but since this was a “stroll down the memory lane”, as Diego called the way he held her hand while they tracked down old haunts and memories, she’d agreed to stop in the cafe; after all, they did come here for one of their first -- Veruca wasn’t sure what to call that time when Diego successfully discovered her favorite flower then took her for a walk in the woods and a cup of tea in Madame Puddifoot’s. 

A clink of china tugged her back to the lacy tablecloth in front of her. Green eyes glanced up just in time to see that same odd look from their picnic date night reappear in Diego’s chocolate-colored eyes: the mix of happiness, adoration, and worry (she still had no idea why that would show up; was Diego planning a surprise for her and didn’t want her to find out?), and the something she couldn’t read.

Veruca brought her teacup down silently; reaching for Diego’s hand, she wrapped her fingers around his with no problem. The action seemed to tug the boy from his thoughts back to the bustling reality, and he swapped his smirk for a softer, gentler smile.

“Did you know you look really pretty in that outfit?” Came the question before Veruca could ask one of her own.

She glanced down at her clothes: it was her usual attire of a purple top and a floral dress, with the addition of the coat and gloves she would don while doing her job; hardly anything unusual about it, not to mention “really pretty”.

Looking back up, Diego held a red carnation in his hand. Sqeezing hers in the hand that was still interlaced with her fingers, he leaned over to tuck it behind her ear.

“But now you look fantastic.”

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

Veruca circled Diego, noting how his body pulled taut in anticipation for her to make a move; she knew her posture mirrored his, her heartbeat crescendoing as she went over the spells she aimed to use in her head once more.

He struck first -- she dodged the bolt of red light, casting her own charm in retaliation.

Multicolored flashes lit the room as she blocked, dodged, and fired spells. A strand of her hair came loose from her messy bun and blocked her vision; she moved to bat it away.

That second of carelessness was all it took.

“Flipendo!”

A grunt escaped her lips as Veruca was knocked off her feet.

A wand barely scraped the skin of her throat.

Silence.

“And that, my dear, is why you should tie your hair tighter.”

Diego stood above her, ready to help her up.

She grabbed his hand readily, pushing the rogue strands of her dark hair back, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

That got a chuckle out of her boyfriend, and he tugged her to the bench outside of the dueling ring.

Sitting down and popping open the cap to her bottle, Veruca gave Diego a quick once-over: it wasn’t obvious, but he was just a little bit nervous. The dueling season had arrived once more, and another match for him was coming soon; she had no doubts about Diego’s capabilities as a duelist -- in fact, Veruca felt sorry for the poor person who was about to get their pride demolished and their ego bruised -- but she knew that apprehension went hand-in-hand with anticipation, and she also knew that the best thing to do when Diego was nervous was to --

“Hey!” His voice held no real malice as Veruca nudged the crook of his neck with the top of her head, “What’s this for?”

Mouth twitching upwards at the smile in his voice, she replied, “It’s bad to think so hard, Caplan; you might die of overheating.”

“Ah,” he laughed, “but that’d require me to not overheat at the sight of you.”

Veruca hid her rapidly heating face by poking Diego’s middle with a soft finger.

At this rate, she would be the one to die of overheating.

He only laughed louder and moved Veruca away from his neck; eyes twinkling, he pressed a chaste kiss on her burning forehead and leaned back on the drab green of the bench. Veruca’s forehead creased lightly as she watched his eyes fixate themselves on something that wasn’t there, the furrows deepening when he showed no sign of pulling himself from the bubble of his presumably-uneasy thoughts.

It wasn’t out of the blue for Diego to be nervous, but it never got easier for Veruca to watch him go into these anxiety-induced bubbles; it was like they were separated by an invisible barrier, one that not even reducto could bring down. 

The only thing she could do to help when he got stuck like this was to be here, at his side with his hand in hers, pushing his shoulder-length hair back when it dropped in front of his eyes, to just be a presence that he could lean into, for him to know that he wasn’t alone and that someone just knew that he was going to do well no matter the opponent he was to face.

So, she stayed like that, a quiet pillar of support that Diego could lean on. Veruca was never good with words, but she didn’t need them to let him know that she was there, that she was the shoulder he could lay his head on without eyes to judge him.

After a while, a weight lifted himself from her shoulder.

Veruca turned to meet the eyes of Diego Caplan, eyes the color of coffee and chocolate and the soil that they planted the carnation seeds they’d gotten in, eyes that swirled with a quiet adoration that she was sure he could see in hers as well.

There were some other emotions in those brown eyes too; Veruca wasn’t in the mood to decipher them though.

Veruca was never one for lovey-dovey “It was like the sun came out of the clouds when he smiled”s or “his smile was like an angel actually came down from the heavens”s, but watching Diego’s face slowly grow more animated was actually as if the rain stopped and the gray clouds were chased off by marshmallow-white clouds, and she emotions could only brighten as he did.

And she only beamed brighter when Diego offered her a carnation transfigured from a stray pleat from the rug in the dueling circle, his own grin cheerier than before.

Standing up, Veruca offered her hand to him, “Think you’re ready for another match?”

His hand wrapped itself around hers.

“I’d like nothing more, my dear.”

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

Pushing yet another stray lock of her behind her ear, Veruca wondered if she should take up Diego’s advice and ditch the messy bun look -- it was getting irritating to have to brush her hair away every time she made a sudden movement or two.

She probably won’t be changing her hairstyle anytime soon, but it never hurt to browse through some possible options. 

But, that was something for another time; right now, Veruca needed to complete the scene she’d set out to create before Diego found her. So she placed the plate of grapes and cherries down on the checkered tablecloth and moved the pair of wine glasses to make sure that they wouldn’t fall and potentially smash into myriads of tiny little pieces.

Pulling out the wine from the basket she brought, Veruca smiled at the label wrapped around the bottle: a bottle from Limmiani wine products, just like the rose wine they drank when they had -- 

Was it foolish to blush when one was thinking of their first kiss? Veruca was pretty sure it was at least some degree of lame while she fanned herself with her free hand to cool herself down, setting the bottle of wine down and moving on to the loaves of bread and cheeses she stowed in the wicker basket.

The occasion? A celebration, one to celebrate Diego’s win against his opponent in the dueling match. She’d already started preparing this morning when Diego pressed a quick kiss to her cheek for luck and hurried off to do some last-minute preparation, but when Tonks gave her the go-ahead to set out the picnic, she let out a breath of relief that her boyfriend had won yet again and hurried to Westside Park to set up everything.

With a sigh, Veruca sat back on her heels, darting eyes making sure that not a single thing was out of place. It would never do to have spilled wine or food or anything just as disastrous, and she aimed to do everything in her power to prevent it. 

A wave of her wand and yellow flickers danced on the walls and floors of the pavilion as orbs of light floated up obediently and settled in various places, illuminating a little circle around the picnic.

“Just like stars,” A voice remarked, one that Veruca turned around immediately at, “Is this the reason you were busy, my dear?”

Diego must’ve changed before he came here, exchanging his dueling outfit for a sleeker, more elegant look that brought out all his best features more than his usual clothes. Veruca threw a hasty glance up at the glowing spheres, sighed a soundless sigh of relief when none of the shining globes seemed to be one second from implosion, then nodded at her boyfriend.

“Do you like it?”

Laughs escaped Diego as he tried to touch one of the orbs with the bouquet of carnations he had in hand, only for it to float even higher, spinning in place as if jeering at his inability to fly like it could, “Like it?” He asked, crossing the gazebo to scoop Veruca in his arms, much to her surprised laughs, “I love it! Just as much as I love you --”

Green eyes widened.

Brown eyes did too, after a second that was crawled for more like a year.

Slowly, Veruca was set down on her feet, Diego’s face now showing that mix of emotions once more, Veruca wasn’t sure if the world suddenly got its noise turned off or if was it just her ears blocking everything but Diego’s words.

And the worry in that look made sense -- Diego didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or feel pressured to say it back.

“-- And you don’t have to say it back, just so you know; take as much time as you need to --”

“Yeah,” Veruca found herself interrupting, nodding her head (her face was probably the same color as the red cherries on the picnic blanket), “Should we continue?”

“Yeah,” 

Green eyes met brown, “Yeah.”

They sat on the checkered blanket and Veruca opened the bottle of wine, pouring out a generous portion for both of them. Meanwhile, Diego popped a few cherries into his mouth.

He took his glass with a quiet “thank you” and a small flash of his white teeth. She responded with her own little smile, reaching for a grape herself.

There was a quietness to them, not a completely comfortable one, but it wasn’t completely uncomfortable either. It felt less like a serene bubble and more like a hamster ball, like the stillness between them was a snowball on the top of a mountain, ready to start rolling at the smallest movement.

“Look!” 

Veruca peered in the direction Diego pointed.

It was a butterfly, blue wings the color of a sunny sky, weaving through the spheres of light Veruca made, up and up towards the star-speckled sky.

Stars.

Millions of them were scattered throughout the blackness, twinkling like tiny jewels on a ballgown; Veruca didn’t think she remembered another time when the skies were like this.

It was beautiful. 

“--, right?”

Green eyes turned to meet brown once more, but the brown of Diego’s eyes was fixed on the tango of the stars; the corners of Veruca’s mouth turned up a little bit.

“Yeah,” She leaned her head on his shoulder, “it is beautiful.”

The snowball melted, leaving only a sphere of peace around her and Diego. 

Her head shifted as Diego moved, “I meant it, you know.”

Veruca’s head moved to look up at him with questioning eyes.

He smiled at her inquiring gaze, moving to wrap an arm around her shoulders, “About you taking your time. You don’t have to say it right now, or tomorrow, or even ever; just say it when you’re ready, Veruca.”

She couldn’t help it -- surging up to press a kiss on Diego’s lips, then pressing her forehead to his.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

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

Morning rays seeped through the woven threads of the kitchen curtains, soft rays creeping across the room as Veruca took a sip of her coffee, hair still down and mussed from sleep.

The smell of pancakes filled the room, Diego must’ve finished making a batch of them.

“Berries on your pancakes?” He asked, already adding them to a plate.

“Yes please,” Murmured Veruca, frowning at the empty mug in her hand.

Standing up, she moved towards the coffee pot, grabbing another mug from the little mug tree on the counter. Hands gently moving Diego so that she could get to the machine, Veruca found herself smiling at seven am when her boyfriend pressed a quick peck on her forehead.

And she would’ve gotten assaulted by a flurry of even more kisses too, had she not nudged his head away from her and back to the two plates of pancakes on the kitchen counter, “Just trying to get some coffee here.”

“Actually, it’s over there,” Diego chuckled as that quip earn him a soft punch to the arm, “But thanks for getting some for me, my dear.”

“Who says anything about you getting some coffee?”

“I’m pretty sure that Gambat doesn’t need coffee to be cheeky, unlike someone else I know.”

Veruca huffed in mock anger, then finally found her way to the savior of mornings, the coffee machine.

Pouring the drink and adding the creamers and sugars were second nature to her at this point, she didn’t need to think as she stirred the coffee and made her way back to the kitchen table -- so no, she didn’t need to think about the coffees, but rather, Veruca was thinking about something else.

Some part of her thought that the blue butterfly from the night when Diego actually said those three words out loud -- it was an improvement that she could think of that without her face betraying her beating heart -- should’ve been one that she recognized, that she should’ve known what that butterfly meant.

She had no idea what that butterfly meant.

Veruca’s hands placed her mug in front of herself, the other in front of Diego, who said a quick word of thanks as he put down the pancakes on the dining table. 

But she did have an idea about something else.

Those three little words -- so much meaning in so simple a sentence -- even the very marrow of Veruca’s magic knew that she felt the same way; her new leopard patronus, the silvery animal that gave her so much surprise when it appeared, could definitely attest to that. But to say that out loud --

“Are you okay, my dear?”

A vase of carnations decorated the kitchen, a vase of flowers that she didn’t even know were her favorite until Diego showed it to her; flowers that he always took the time to get for her because he knew it would make her happy.

“Yeah,” She heard herself say, “I’m just hungry.”

She was here with Diego, he was Veruca’s pillar, and she was his, all because he didn’t stop pursuing her even when she was a complete douche to him.

Three little words.

“Hey, Diego?” 

“Hm?”

One huge meaning.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Another beat.

Was it just the blood rushing through her ears or was everything holding its breath, too?

“You love me?”

She thinks she feels the table exhale like she did.

Veruca glanced up into Diego’s eyes, brown meeting green, and nodded.

Outside the window, the sun completely rid itself of its sleepiness as Diego grinned a smile so wide that it stretched ear-to-ear like he was a kid on Christmas day, “Say it again?”

And Veruca knew she was the same, “I love you.”

“Again?”

She laughed, a merry sound that gave even the berries on her pancakes more color than ever, “I love you!”

Somehow somewhere sometime between the giggles and “I love you”s, Veruca found herself trapped in Diego’s arms again.

Brown and green eyes met each other halfway through, and she touched her forehead on his.

“I love you,” It was a whisper this time, a breath that blew the bubble of serenity around them.

Diego’s eyes held no worry as he combed a flyaway strand of raven-black hair from Veruca’s face, “I love you too.”