dont yiff the leeches

Jacques & Kit - they're twins halves of the same whole to me, so they have the same face, just different vibes. Jacques is supposed to give the impression of a cool, strict, if a lil cold older brother, while Kit is the more carefree, also cool, affectionate older sister.

Lemony - I added scars from when Stew beat him up. His eyes are the same as his siblings.

Moxie - Other than polishing up the structure of her face and adding freckles, I think I really got her right from the get-go. 10/10 no further notes.

Cleo - She's supposed to look intimidating and regal, her hair is meant to evoke a "queen". She looks fierce, but she's nicer than she looks.

Jake - when he was younger, his hair is curlier and down, now he has it styled. He's meant to look friendly.

Ellington - doesn't look mysteriously enough ngl, but she does have femme fatale vibes. Kinda.

Lizzie - literally just Hedy Lamarr in terms of face. I really want a look that screams "STARLET", so she's the prettiest/most elegant looking here.

Kellar - my intention for him is that bc of his harried and anxious nature, he gives off the impression of being unapproachable and unpleasant.

Squeak - the youngest of the group, he grew up but still maintaining that core mischievousness. He looks a lot like Pip.

Pip - forgot to draw his glasses, anyways he looks more of a refined gentleman here bc he's now officially a librarian, a prestigious job.

Jacques walked over with two steaming cups of tea in his hands and a pensive frown on his face.

“I still don’t have any ideas. Those children won’t get out without our help, but I can’t think of anything.”

He and Olivia had been searching for the Quagmire triplets for what seemed like months now, even though it couldn't have been more than a week. Maybe it was the way Olaf was always one step ahead of them, or the way that he seemed to know his new partner so well already, but Jacques felt like he’d been chasing down the triplets with Olivia forever.

“The Baudelaires are quite resourceful. They might find a way by themselves,” Olivia pointed out, pushing her glasses further up her nose. “Still, we have to keep trying. We've gotten so far already, there’s just one more step. One more step and the children will be safe. All of them.”

Jacques sighed and passed Olivia one of the mugs, purposefully brushing her fingertips with his. He was sure he’d been better at flirting once upon a time, but there was something about the librarian’s wide hazel eyes and determined voice that rendered him completely unable to function, hence why he was resorting to middle-school tactics in order to catch her attention.

“We’re volunteers. We’ll think of something.” Jacques took a determined sip from his own cup of tea.

Olivia tilted her head to the side, a sheet of dark hair falling over one shoulder. “Do you really believe that?”

Taken aback, Jacques set down his tea. “Believe what? That we’ll think of something?”

“No.” Olivia smiled sadly. “That we’ll think of something because we’re volunteers. Not because we’re intelligent, or resourceful, or a good team” — Jacques smiled despite himself — “but because we’re volunteers.” She frowned. “I don’t think that’s a fair measure of things, to be perfectly honest. Even if you weren’t a volunteer, you’d still be everything you are now.”

Jacques smiled softly. “No, you’re right,” he said. “It’s just hard to come to terms with. It shouldn’t be, but — I’ve been a volunteer my whole life. It’s — well.” He laughed wryly and touched the back of his neck. Olivia regarded him with a tilted head and another sip of tea. “It’s been my entire life, to be honest. I’ve never known things another way, and VFD … it’s all I know. My parents were in it, my brother was in it, my twin sister’s still in it. Volunteers have been family to me just as much as my real family has been. It’s hard to accept that I’m a person independent of VFD.” He stopped, and smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Until you, of course.”

A beat. “Until me?”

He nodded.

Olivia laughed a little, confused. “But — I’m your VFD partner.”

“Yes.”

She furrowed her brow in that adorably quizzical way that incapacitated Jacques no matter the circumstance. “I’m your VFD partner,” she repeated. “That’s got to do with the organisation. I don’t see how that’s separate from all the other aspects of your life involving VFD. I understand if I were your,” she stumbled on her words, and Jacques could have imagined the faint pink spreading across her cheeks, “your non-VFD — that is to say, romantic — partner; but other than that I don’t see how our relationship means anything to you outside the realm of VFD.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive,” Jacques reminded her, voice low, staring rather intently at his cup.

“Pardon?”

“VFD partners and, uh, romantic ones.” Since when did he mumble? Since when did Jacques Snicket trip over his words? “They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Oh.” Olivia stirred her tea politely. “That’s useful information.”

“Yes.”

“Very useful.” This time, she looked up at him, a smirk unlike any other expression Jacques had seen on her face curling the corner of her mouth. She leaned a little closer, lips parted, and Jacques found himself mirroring her actions, admiring the turn of her lips and the curve of her cheeks and the soft dark hair that framed her face as she moved closer and closer. He could smell her now, vanilla and tea leaves, and as her hand found his he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable press of soft lips against his. 

“You’re awfully quiet up there,” snarled a harsh, teasing voice from below them, and Olivia pulled away, red-cheeked, with a sharp inhale. Both she and Jacques scowled at the open door that led down to the cells. 

“You don’t get to complain,” Olivia snapped at Olaf, her voice increasing in anger with each word. “You’re a horrible man who’s done terrible things to young, innocent children, and as soon as the chief of police arrives, you’ll go to jail for a very long time. It’ll be loud there for you. And I advise you to enjoy silence while you can, because you’ll be locked up for the rest of your life.”

“I’m sure I will,” Olaf agreed, sounding far more relaxed than Jacques liked.

“You will,” Jacques growled, and Olivia shot him a small, shaky smile of gratefulness. “Kidnapping and murder are serious charges. You’ll never be free again and those children and their fortunes will be safe.”

“All because of the chief of police,” Olaf drawled. “I know.”

Jacques narrowed his eyes at the doorway and turned back to Olivia, but she had recovered herself and her chair was back to its usual position. Her head was bent, her hair falling into her eyes again as she absentmindedly swirled the tea in the cup. Jacques reached out and touched her shoulder. “Okay?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Yes. Thank you.” She set her empty cup down on the table and sighed, then turned to him. “Do you think we can really do this?”

“Save them?”

She nodded.

“I do.” Jacques reached out and on impulse took her hand. “I really do, Olivia. You and I are so close, I know it. The chief of police will arrive, Olaf will be taken to prison, and then the children will be safe. We’ll find the Quagmires, help the Baudelaires, give them a home.”

Marriage? Children? The words echoed, unspoken this time, in the dimly lit office.

Olivia offered a small, tight smile. “But what if we don’t?” she said, her voice quiet and unsure, suddenly so unlike her usual assured speech. “What if all this is for nothing, and they’re never safe, because we fail?”

“We won’t fail. We can’t fail.” Jacques took her other hand and pulled her to face him, hating the doubt and defeat in those gorgeous eyes that he’d come to know so well after such a short amount of time. That was the thing, wasn’t it — slipping from strangers to friends, friends to partners, unaware that it was happening until it did, and all of a sudden you end up in a police station with the woman you just might be coming to love, if you dared, and you have to make her believe because oh, you believe. “We can never fail, Olivia. You and I might. But we’re not the only ones in this world who can help them. If we fail, somebody else takes up the torch. Somebody else gives them all that we can give them, and if they fail too, they’ve tried, and there are always, always others. Because we have to try. And we’re trying — so we can’t fail. Not all of us.”

“You believe that.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes, I do.” He answered it anyway.

A smile grew on her face, hesitant at first then widening and radiant. “Good. Because I do too.”

He leaned in first this time, but she wasn’t far behind. His mouth quirked up with a smile, as he whispered, “I think we’ll be quite alright, Olivia Caliban.”

“I think we will be, Jacques Snicket,” she whispered back.

And this time, he got to feel the press of her lips on his, electric and warm and perfect, and they were connected by a sudden spark of emotion, however briefly, before a loud bang interrupted them. They pulled apart as the door flew open to reveal the chief of police, dressed in electric blue, a large helmet and excessive makeup concealing most of her face. She strode into the room, and Jacques couldn’t put his finger on what was wrong until she grabbed his arm and Olivia’s and yanked them to standing. 

“Jacques Snicket,” Esmé Squalor snarled, “and his pathetic librarian girlfriend.” She dropped the heavy accent and pulled, hard, on Olivia’s arm as she struggled in vain to keep Esmé from forcing them downstairs. “You’re coming with me, don’t bother trying to pull away. And don’t worry about the cell, darlings — it’s deluxe.”