Contains a reference to AberrantScript's My Only Sunshine, which is without a doubt the darkest Loud House fanfiction I've ever read. Hell, it's the darkest anything I've ever read. I beta read the epilogue Tuesday evening and it legitimately kept me awake. I thought I had him whipped with "My Lincoln" but he came back and cleaned my clock. Dude's a monster. He's at least as bad as Hitler.

Luna Loud woke to a strange and frightening sensation. In her sleep fogged mind, she imagined a bomb was trembling in the palm of her hand, smoke pouring from it as it reached the point of detonation. He heart jumped into her throat and her eyes flew open; they were wide and pooled with fear. She sat up, and the bomb dropped from her hand, landing on the edge of the bed. Even as she drew herself away from it, she realized that it wasn't a bomb at all but her phone.

Whew!

Luna laughed at herself. Oh, man, what a spaz! She wasn't used to falling asleep with her phone in her hand, though. She never had a reason to...until Sam.

Still breathing heavy, she snatched it up. It was 5:57am (three minutes before her alarm was set to go off) and she had nine unread text messages from Sam. Luna blinked as a grin spread across her face. What did Lori say when she had a bunch of texts from Bobby? I'm so loved? Luna opened and read the first. It was from 12:35, around the same time she must have fallen asleep. "I miss you," followed by a frownie face. The next, at 12:38: "You asleep? Have sweet dreams!" The next at 12:44: "I can't wait to see you tomorrow." 12:59: "I can't stop thinking about you. Ugh." 1:05: "Wake up and talk to me lol." 1:25: "I wish you were here." 1:30: "Horny," followed by a frownie face. 1:45: "Wish it was you instead of my hand, lol." The most recent was: "You getting up soon?"

The one before last made Luna's core quiver. She typed, "Save any for me?" and hit send. She turned off the alarm and started to get up, but the phone buzzed, and she stopped what she was doing to read Sam's response. "There's plenty for you. You going to be at school today?"

"Duh, of course," Luna replied.

Luan's alarm went off, and Luna dropped her phone on the bed and jumped up so she could get to the bathroom first. Leni was the only one in line; she stood in front of the door was stooped shoulders and a hung head. She looked kind of like a zombie, her aquamarine nightgown resembling a hospital johnnie. Yawning, Luna walked up behind her and stretched. "Morning, Leni," she said.

Leni grunted.

"Nice day to be alive, huh, brah?" she grinned.

"If you say so," Leni croaked.

Luna wasn't a morning person either, but when you're young and in love with a beautiful girl – who likes you back! – it's hard not to be a morning person...or an afternoon person...or a night person...

She thought of Sam's beautiful face, and joy filled her. She threw her arms around her sister's shoulders and drew her into a hug; Leni cried out. "Come on, sis! The world is beautiful!"

"Let me go, please," Leni said flatly.

Luna hugged her tight then unhanded her. "You need a boyfriend," Luna said.

"I need to pee," Leni replied.

The door opened, and Lori came out, her head bent over her phone...it still worked, though the screen was shattered. Luna thought of her own phone lying on her bed, and kind of wished she'd brought it. Sam was probably wondering where she was.

Leni went into the bathroom and Luna moved up a spot. Man, waiting in line every time you had to take a leak sucked.

"Yo, Steven Tyler!" Lynn said, coming up behind her. Luna almost didn't recognize her: Her voice was deeper than usual.

"Hey, si..." Luna started, but the words died on her lips when she glanced at her sister. Last night, Luna thought she noticed some peach fuzz on Lynn's upper lip. Well, today she didn't think, she knew. She didn't know if it qualified as a mustache, but it was definitely step one.

Lynn crossed her arms over her chest, the oversized sleeves of her jersey/gown-whatever-the-hell-it-was-supposed-to-be falling back to reveal toned muscle that wasn't there the night before. "How about you close your mouth?" Lynn said without a trace of humor. Luna instinctively obeyed. She started to ask Lynn what the hell was going on, but something in the younger girl's eyes stopped her, so she turned back toward the door.

"You trying to let me go first?" Lynn asked.

"No," Luna said.

"I really have to piss."

"So do I."

Lynn sighed angrily. "You're a fucking bitch." She shot out her arm and shoved Luna, who almost fell.

Uncharacteristic anger rose in Luna, and she turned. "What the fuck is your problem, dude? You been a bitch since yesterday and what's up with that mustache, Freddie Mercury?"

Lynn bared her teeth and clenched her fists. "If I didn't want to get in anymore trouble..."

"What?" She locked eyes with Lynn. Neither one of them noticed Lincoln until he fell in behind Lynn, his eyes half-closed and his head bowed. Lynn spun and he fell back.

"Quit breathing down my fucking neck, you little faggot."

Luna flashed. "Don't talk to him like that, bitch. If you got a problem turn around and deal with it." Her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. She didn't like fighting but Lynn's behavior was getting ridiculous.

Lynn tensed and slowly shook her head. Her right fist clenched and unclenched. Instead of turning and throwing a punch, however, she drew a deep breath, shoulder-checked Lincoln, and went into her room, slamming the door as hard as she could; the whole house shook.

"Stop slamming doors!" Dad yelled from downstairs.

Lincoln blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to get the sleep out. "What's her issue? And what was that on her lip?"

Luna shook her head. "Man, I don't know, but something's going on." Leni came out of the bathroom just then, and Luna had to put Lynn on the backburner. She pissed, showered, and quickly shaved her legs. She wanted them to be smooth and silky for Sam. She smiled as she thought of her. Would they have time to...uh...be together after school? Luna hoped so. She was horny.

When she was done, she wrapped a towel around her body and went into the hall. Lincoln was first in line, followed by Luan, Lana, Lola, Lucy, and Lynn. Lynn shot her a dirty look, and Luna shot her one right back.

Yeah, something's definitely not right. Maybe I should talk to Mom and Dad.

Another day, another dollar, Lincoln thought as he slipped into an orange shirt. What was that joke from Spongebob? Another day, another nickel...because Mr. Krabs was so cheap he paid his employees slave wages? Heh. At least they got some kind of money. A nickel a day didn't sound so bad when you made nothing a day.

He sat heavily on the edge of his bed and pulled his shoes on. You loop-de-loop and pull...and your shoes are looking cool. Arggh! Why did he have Spongebob on the brain? When was the last time he even watched Spongebob? Was it yesterday? He couldn't remember. Maybe?

Just as he was finishing up, Lucy slipped it, closed the door, and leaned against it. She was wearing her usual attire: Black blouse, black-and-white striped leggings. Her hair was down, her bangs in her face. Normal look, normal day.

She crossed her arms. "Lynn's really getting on my nerves."

"Mine too," Lincoln sighed. Standing in line, Lynn kept calling him names. "Yo, Snow White! Down in front! Your cowlick looks stupid!" "Lincoln's a bitch!" "Hey, noodle dick! Let me cut!"

At one point Lucy cried out, and Lincoln turned to seen Lynn giving her a noogie, which kind of pissed him off.

"Could you stop, please?" Luan asked tiredly.

"Could you go to hell?" Lynn retorted. After that she started in on Lola. "Keeping my crown warm?" "You got something that belongs to me. I want it back."

By the end of it, everyone in line was mad and Lynn was lucky they didn't team up and stomp her into the floor.

"There's something really weird going on. Have you seen her mustache? She looks like Edgar Allen Poe."

Her peach fuzz was getting thicker...and darker. Girls got hair on their upper lip (right? He seemed to remember hearing that somewhere), but this was literally overnight. Hell, over a couple hours. Was that natural? Probably. Everyone says puberty's a bitch. Makes sense that Lynn would be one too.

"Puberty," Lincoln said. He planted his hands on his knees and looked at his sister. "It's a nightmare."

"I like nightmares," Lucy replied. "I don't like this." She came forward and dropped onto his knee. Lincoln rested his forehead against hers.

"We can always cook up a plan to kill her," he said.

Lucy giggled. "Yeah? How would we do that?"

Lincoln shrugged. "Put a bomb in her football. When she goes to kick it..."

"Or we could rig a sledgehammer to come down and hit her in the face when she opens the door."

"Put chlorine gas in the vents."

"Guilt her into hanging herself."

Lincoln laughed. "We're bad."

"Hmmm," she said, and leaned in, her lips meeting his. "I like being bad."

Lincoln kissed her again, flicking his tongue across hers and laying his hand on her beating heart. She put her hand between his legs and slowly rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. He in turn rubbed her nipple through her shirt, sending quivering pangs of desire into her loins. Her knees trembled and her heart slammed. She pushed against him, and he fell back onto the bed. She planted her knees on either side of him and pressed her groin against his bulge. Sparks of pleasure raced through her body, and she felt herself starting to dampen. Lincoln threaded his fingers through her hair.

She pulled her lips from his and panted against his cheek. "Lincoln..."

"Uh-huh?"

"Make love to me."

She lifted up and looked into his eyes. "Please?"

He grinned. "Alright."

Grinning herself now, she rolled off of him and pulled her leggings and underwear down. Heat radiated from between her legs and she shivered. Stoke the fires of hell, brother, she thought, and giggled.

"What's so funny?" Lincoln asked as he unzipped his jeans.

"Nothing," she said. She kicked out of her shoes and then her leggings. She was nude from the waist down in front of him for the second time, and his eyes caressed her, making her skin tingle and her core even hotter than it already was.

Lincoln pulled his jeans to his ankles and mounted her, his already leaking tip sliding between her folds and poking her just above her entrance. His heat washed over her, and her toes curled against her socks. Her entire body was hot and she could barely breathe.

For a long moment they simply looked at each other, his arms splayed on either side of her head and her legs spread for him, her body aching for him to enter her, and fill her. He reached down and guided himself to her opening, then, slowly, gently, he pushed, his tip sinking in. He shifted and pushed deeper; Lucy gasped at the burning, rending pain, her body jerking reflexively away from him. He took a shuddery breath and tried again. Lucy hissed. "It really hurts."

Lincoln bowed his head and rolled off, the bed shifting under his weight. Lucy sighed. "I'm sorry, Lincoln."

"It's okay," he said, stretching out beside her, his member standing straight up and twitching like a junkie with H in his hand...but no needle to shoot it up with. Lucy rolled onto her side and propped her face in her palm.

"I hate my body," she said.

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is."

She was speaking not to him, but to his penis. She couldn't have looked away from it even if a fire sprang up on the other side of the room. It was thick and smooth and beautiful.

It also looked sad.

She reached out her hand and touched it. Lincoln jumped. "What are you doing?"

"Getting you off."

"Lucy, you don't..."

"Yes I do," she said. "Plus...I want to."

She wrapped her small fingers around his shaft and stroked it, the slick, sticky feeling of his precum making her breath catch in her throat. It was hot and pulsed in her hand, the vein near the base throbbing with every palpitation of his heart. Lincoln sighed and buried the back of his head into his pillow. She smiled at the dazed look on his face and the haziness in his eyes. She increased her speed.

Suddenly, he rolled and looked into her eyes. His hand touched her stomach, pushing her blouse up, then crept lower. She separated her legs, and when his fingers brushed along her slit, she shuddered.

She stroked him and he stroked her, his middle finger finding her opening and rubbing along its rim in slow, deep circles. Lucy's brain scrambled with white passion, and she went faster as if by doing so she could outrun her orgasm. His breath was hot and sweat against her face, his penis beating warmly in her hand. His finger sank into her, and she moaned. His smile widened, and he swirled it around the lip of her edge, slowly gaining speed, creating friction. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out.

Her hand was wet with him now; it was warm and gooey on her skin, like honey. His breathing came in ragged gasps. She could sense that he was close. So was she.

Without warning, he swelled in her hand and his face turned beet red. He jerked his hips, and his seed shot out of him, splattering against her bare stomach. The sensation of it hitting her knocked her over the edge, and she quaked as her climax tore through her. She let out a long, low sigh and let go of him so she wouldn't hurt him: Instead she grabbed his thigh and dug her nails in as though if by not doing so she would be swept away.

When it was over, he held her in his arms and peppered her forehead with kisses. She purred contentedly, his love slick against her stomach.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too."

He took a deep breath. "We better get ready."

Get a grip, Loud, damn.

Lynn ripped open the packaging of a second sports bar and crammed the sweet, sweet protein into her mouth, her cheeks bulging and her teeth tearing and rending. She regretted not getting up earlier and making something meatier, like eggs and steak. Ummm...raw, bloody steak. Lynn smacked her lips. That sounded really fucking good.

She was leaning against the kitchen counter. She usually sat at the dining room table with everyone else, but today they were all getting on her nerves, and it took everything she had not to deck someone. She didn't understand why she was feeling so mean. What's worse: She could hardly control herself. Standing in line, she felt the near irresistible urge to fuck with Lincoln and everyone else; not doing so made her feel...she didn't know...kind of constipated? Was that the word? It was almost painful.

Being pissed for no reason and hardly being able to control it pissed her off even more, and she rammed her elbow back into the edge of the counter. Pain snaked up her arm, and she relished it.

What's wrong with me?

The anger wasn't all. There was the mustache...and the acne. She got pimples here and there like every other teenage girl on the face of the planet, but never acne; her cheeks were covered with red and yellow bumps. It was pretty fucking gross. Then there was...well...maybe she was mistaken, because she didn't make a habit of looking at and feeling up her own chest...but her boobs...they were smaller than they were last night, almost as if they shrank. And her...what did they call it in sex ed? Clitoris? Whatever it was...it was bigger. Not by a lot, but still. She noticed when she woke up this morning and innocently rubbed her legs together: A power pang of desire ripped through her body and she let out a long, trembling "Nngh!" She touched herself occasionally (what teenage girl doesn't?), but today she was hyper aware of it between her legs. Every step she took made the base of her skull tingle.

She swallowed the last of her sports bar and stopped herself in the middle of grabbing another. Her stomach growled. Fuck. She took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at the fridge. She didn't have time to cook an egg...but fuck it. She went to the fridge, opened it, and grabbed an egg from the carton. Throwing her head back, she held it up, cracked it with her hands, and shivered as the yolk plopped into her mouth like cold snot...peppered with bits of eggshell. She swallowed, and it slid down her throat like slime.

She smacked her lips and grabbed another. She broke it and swallowed just like before: There were more eggshells this time around, and they scratched going down. You know, it wasn't half bad!

"Ewwww, what are you doing?"

Lynn tossed the remains of the eggshell away and looked at Lori, whose face was screwed up in disgust.

"Eating breakfast," Lynn said, and before she could stop herself, "you got a problem?"

Lori sighed, went to the sink, and dropped her bowl in. Lynn watched as she crossed to the threshold and disappeared into the living room, then took two more eggs from the carton and stuffed them in her pocket...for the walk to school.

Lincoln pulled his jacket on and stepped onto the porch. It was sunny but cold, a hard wind was blowing from the west and roaring through the trees and pushing dead leaves along the street and sidewalk. As they did every time he was out here, his eyes drifted to the vacant lot next door where just a month ago a house stood. His hand crept to the rosary around his neck, his fingers closing around the plastic, Christ-bearing cross. His mind flashed to that night, and his heart started to pound.

He tried not to think about it, but it was hard sometimes.

When someone spoke behind him, he jumped and turned. Lucy stood before him, her hands behind her back.

She was wearing a ponytail.

"Uh...you going to school like that?"

"Yes," she said. "I figured...I don't know. Has to happen sometime."

In actuality, she still felt bad about earlier, and wanted to make it up to him. What they did really wasn't enough, as far as she was concerned, so...she was sucking it up and wearing her hair in a ponytail today because he liked it.

He smiled. "I said I'd break you down eventually."

She shrugged her shoulders slightly. "You're getting your way because I love you," she said matter-of-factly.

Lincoln smiled radiantly. "I love you too."

Lucy grinned. What they did earlier wasn't sex...but she felt much closer to him nevertheless. After all, what they shared was an intensely private moment, wasn't it? Just as private as the real thing. That made Lucy smile, and as they started down the sidewalk, she slipped her hand into his and rested her head against his arm. He was so warm and soft and...

Something dark and big moved into the sidewalk, and Lincoln came to a sputtering stop, his body going tense. Heart catching, Lucy looked up.

"Well, hi there," a dark voice said.

Lucy blinked. The man (if man it could be called) was over six feet tall with wide shoulders, his face nestled in the shadow of his hat brim. She could see the vague outline of eyes and a nose. His big, tooth filled smile, on the other hand, stood out brightly.

A strange tingle touched her brain, but it was gone in a second. Next to her, Lincoln trembled.

"You kids look like you could use some...help." He knelt and Lucy's heart started to race. Even though the sun should have shone directly onto his face, it was still lost in shadows, though she could see his eyes more clearly.

They were the eyes of a corpse.

A shiver raced down her spine.

"W-We're fine," she stammered.

"Oh?" the man's smile somehow got bigger. "You don't need anything?" He looked at Lincoln for a moment, then back at Lucy. "You two are awfully young – and awfully related – to be thinking about that, aren't you?"

His breath was cold and smelled like rotten eggs.

Sulfur, Lucy thought hysterically, the stench of Satan.

He reached one massive hand into his trench coat and pulled something out. It was a tiny bottle of lotion. He held it out to Lucy. "To...loosen things up a bit."

Lucy couldn't have taken it even if she wanted to; she was frozen in fear.

The man's smile faltered, and he turned to Lincoln. "Here you go, son. Rub a little bit of this on and you'll be in business." He held it out, and Lincoln took it, his arm moving and his hand clutching robotically. The man looked at Lucy again, and she swallowed hard. "You're a strange little girl," he said soberly, "and I don't like it."

He rose up to his full height and tipped his hat. "Have a splendiddilytastic day."

Lucy watched in shock as he simply disappeared.

Next to her, Lincoln shuddered. "Gee, it's cold."

She turned to look at him. He was holding a bottle of lotion in his hand and looking at it with furrowed brows. "What's this?"

Sputtering, Lucy knocked it out of his hand. "Leave it alone!"

He looked at her. "What's your problem?"

"N-Nothing," she lied. "Let's go."

She tossed a nervous glance over her shoulder. Though the sidewalk was empty, she had the uncanny feeling of being watched.