18. Chapter18

AN: This chapter was going to be longer, but it kind of felt right to end it where I did. So I guess I'll just push the other stuff into the next chapter. Hope you guys enjoy jt.

Nobody245: Sam's never met Clyde. I mean, its likely that they probably know OF each other (or Clyde knows about Sam, at least, Luna getting a girlfriend is a big enough development that Lincoln would probably tell him about it) but there's no indication they've ever met on the show, and there's no reason why they would ever hang out, so I'm operating under the assumption that they've never met. Even if they had, Clincoln McCloud sounds like gibberish without the proper context, which Sam wouldnt have. Ergo, she is only just now finding out that all the things she loves are weirdly intertwined (exactly how she'd like Lincoln and Luna to be).

The Lynn and Sam thing is purely reactionary at this point. They've traded a few hits so far, we'll see where it goes. As for the stuff with Carol, well...that would be telling.

Lincoln Loud was not an especially pessimistic individual. Quite the opposite, in fact, as it was the tendency of the pale haired boy to hope for the best in most situations. Lincoln, however, was also not an especially stupid boy, and the Louds, as well meaning as they were, displayed a propensity for destruction that grew exponentially as more of them gathered in a given area. So the boy was pleasantly surprised that thus far, things were going extremely well for his group.

The Clincoln McCloud Publishing booth had opened to little fanfare. This was to be expected. Savvy Con was a huge convention, and Lincoln's comic, though far more successful than he'd ever dreamed it could be, was ultimately just another product in a sea of many. He'd warned the girls that the corporate tables were the ones that saw most of the action in the early hours of the convention, and that in all likelihood, they'd be in for a bit of a wait before they'd see their first customer.

And for a time, he'd been absolutely correct. Then they got their first customer, far sooner than Lincoln had anticipated. A stammaring, blushing teen, not much older than himself, who looked like he was on the verge of fainting after Leni gave him a very enthusiastic greeting. Lincoln had been a tad disappointed to find out that the boy was not one of his readers, but that quickly evaporated when it was confirmed that it was his artwork that had drawn the boy to his stall. They'd made small talk, a few selfies were taken, and the lad was sent on his way with a small stack of comics. All in all, a pretty good experience for his first sale.

It wasn't long before other attendees began to gravitate towards their booth, and the group quickly found themselves busy. As the official vendor, Lincoln had felt obligated to carry the lion's share of the workload, but much to his surprise, he found their customers strangely unwilling to engage with him.

Lincoln had been seriously contemplating throwing something at the latest of these customers, beginning to suspect that he was being intentionally ignored. Then, Lincoln felt a hand on his shoulder, which began to gently guide him away from the table.

"Lincoln." Cooed Sam encouragingly, "You know we all love you very much..."

Her eyes briefly narrowed. "Some of us more than others..."

Lincoln opened his mouth with the intention of asking what she'd meant by that, when the older girl pushed on.

"But I think you're doing more harm than good here." She finished apologetically.

"But look at the crowd." He replied, gesturing to the growing throng of conventioners that was rapidly building. "I cant just make you guys deal with that by yourselves."

"I think you're going to have to, sweetie." She said. "Just look over there."

Lincoln looked to where the blonde rocker had indicated. There was Luna digging through a box of comics, presumably trying to fulfill an order while her customers eagerly looked on. The girls had been working hard, and the toll was beginning to show. A thin sheen of sweat covered his sister's face, and as he allowed his eyes to drift lower, he could see that her leotard was clinging tightly to her skin, granting a fairly vivid illustration of the older girl's curves.

"Oh." He said, realization dawning. Lincoln attempted to turn his head to look at the other girls, in order to confirm his suspicions, but found himself incapable of doing so.

"Sam?" He asked. "Could you let go of my face?"

"Absolutely." She replied.

"...Will you?" He queried, several moments later.

"...Just a little longer." She murmured, sighing in contentment. Finally, Sam released him from her gentle, yet extremely firm grip.

"Just making sure you saw how hard Luna's got it." Sam said, winking at him.

Lincoln chose to ignore that suspiciously layered statement and took stock of his booth. His face fell ever so slightly as he glanced around and saw that Leni and Lynn were dealing with similar situations

"Everything okay, Linc?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Yeah." He said, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. "Just wasnt expecting to be the third wheel at my own booth."

"Remind me to show you just how fun a third wheel can be." Sam replied with a smirk.

Again, Lincoln had intended to ask for clarification on the older girl's odd turn of phrase, when he found himself, once again, being gently pushed towards the end of the counter.

"What we need to do is find a better use for your talents." Sam concluded.

"And what would that be?" Lincoln asked, confused.

They stopped, and Sam favored him with a warm smile.

"I've got a few ideas."

"Excuse me, miss?"

Lori Loud was annoyed.

"Back off, pal! I was next!"

Extremely annoyed. It had been twenty minutes since she'd met up with Carol, and they'd barely moved in that time, because randos kept running up to them to take pictures with Carol.

"Only because you keep getting back in line! Let someone else have a chance!"

"Never!"

Aaaand there they went again. It was bad enough that her fellow blonde was completely upstaging her without even trying, but compounding that was the fact that Carol had somehow acquired a costume on par with her own, which only exacerbated the situation.

Lori's phone buzzed in its holster, and she reached for it, grateful for the distraction. It was a text from Leni.

Hi Lori! Did you find Carol? Ask her how she likes the costume!

Leni. Of course. Lori sighed, and was partway through a deep, calming breath when her phone buzzed again.

I based hers off the one I made for you.

*bzzt*

but she was complaining that the top was too tight,

*bzzt*

and the bottom was too loose.

*bzzt*

Didn't have much time to adjust it before the convention, does she look okay?

*bzzt*

;smileyLeniface;, ;winkyLeniface;, ;birthdaycake;.

Lori's hands shook as her grip on her phone tightened considerably. Nevertheless she sent back a short reply, confirming that yes, Carol looked GREAT. She heard a cry of pain from nearby, and briefly wondered if they should relocate to somewhere closer to the nurse's station.

Lori felt a soft tapping on her shoulder, and turned. Much to her surprise, she found herself staring at a short, balding, middle aged man, wearing what was clearly supposed to be some facsimile of her own outfit.

"Excuse me sweetie." Said the man. "I hate to be a bother, and I'm sure you get this a lot..."

Lori's felt her chest swell with pride. Finally, some recognition.

"...but you're friends with that High Card over there, right? Any chance you could help me get a picture with her?"

Lori's eye twitched in irritation.

"I am LITERALLY the High Card!" She screamed in frustration.

The man favored her with a pitying gaze.

"Oh, sweetie." He said, patting her shoulder sympathetically. "Aren't we all?"

Lincoln frowned at the sheet of paper before him, trying to concentrate over the din of the convention around him. Straighten the lines there...add a little more shading there...more emphasis on the bust line, and...

"Done." He announced, presenting his drawing to a waiting customer.

"Strong Suit and Eleven of Hearts wrestling in curry, while a single solitary bag of Wonderbread looks on from the shadows, right?"

"It's perfect!" Exclaimed the man. He happily handed over his payment, and then scurried off, his new acquisition clutched possessively to his chest.

Lincoln chose to refrain from commenting, and simply deposited the payment in his cash box. He'd been skeptical when Sam had suggested he take commissions, but it was working out really well. He'd been getting a steady trickle of customers, some peeling off from his sisters' crowd, miraculously struck by both artistic inspiration and a need for someone to put it to paper, and others wandering in from elsewhere, drawn by the bright colors of the booth and his artwork on display.

Some requests, like the gentleman he'd just finished with, were more challenging than others. But Lincoln found that he enjoyed the problem solving aspect of figuring out how to translate his customer's vague ideas into tangible images. It was fun, and interesting. And being able to get immediate feedback on his art was extremely gratifying.

He allowed his eyes to wander, settling on his sister's girlfriend. There she was, chatting animatedly with a customer while discretely building a sizeable pile of comics between them. Luna looking on, mildly mortified. He felt indebted to the blonde rocker. He hadn't planned on having her help with the booth, but she'd proven invaluable regardless. He had to figure out some way to thank her. He made a mental note to pick Luna's brain for ideas.

The sound of polite coughing alerted him to the fact that he had a customer waiting. Lincoln took a moment to psyche himself up, and turned in the direction of the sound.

He found himself surprised for several reasons. The first was that the individual before him bore the signature cowl and shovel of the Eight of Spades, and she wore them quite well. The quality of the costume had briefly caused Lincoln to question if he wasn't actually looking at the character herself, or at the very least, the girl who'd inspired her creation. But his eyes began to pick out additional details that quickly shattered the illusion.

She was an older girl. Possessed of a similar aura to that of his little sister, yet different, somehow. Heavier, was the word that came to mind. Her frame was also considerably more...robust, in certain aspects, which made any further comparisons between the girls rather moot. His gaze completed its ascent, and his eyes locked with hers. And it was at that point that he realized he knew this girl.

"You're the clown who ruined my birthday party." Said the girl, scowling.

"And you're the girl with terrible taste in entertainment." Lincoln responded in kind, eyes narrowing.