Author's Note (Lightning): Here's an eventful chapter. For one, you'll finally discover why Lucy's being treated like this by Lincoln.

One week later

Lucy lay in bed, obsessed with the ceiling, her eyes tracing the rough pattern of the stipple texture. She found herself seeing little faces and shapes among the popcorn-like mounds– faces that reminded her of her old family. Cowlicks here, curious shapes of hair there, a ponytail here and big round glasses everywhere. The sun shone brightly through the window, filling the otherwise bare room with warm, golden light. Her belongings remained untouched, still packed in their bags, as if she were a temporary visitor rather than a permanent resident. All that sunlight felt uncomfortable upon her skin.

For the past week, Lucy had barely moved, barely interacted with her new family. Instead of expressing concern, Billy and Mandy seemed to at least not cause any more distress. Actually, Billy mostly kept his distance, avoiding the situation altogether. Though Lucy could not be sure if this was because they respected her wish to mope around or if she was simply not paying enough attention.

The only Bierpong that actively bothered her was Grimace. After a few days, Lucy had finally realized why the terror of a terrier was so desperate to bite her, and it happened because Grimace pulled a half-catatonic Lucy out of the living room where she sat curled into a ball and buried her in the backyard, leaving her to sigh with a mound of dirt atop her head.

This happened thrice in the past week, and Lucy soon had the epiphany as to why: her creepy gray skin, it turned out, confused Grimace who instead saw her as one giant bone.

Lucy could not be angry at a dog, and on some level, she thought the dog's confusion was cute. But it was nowhere near enough to clear the mental fog she had gotten lost in.

Lincoln was constantly on Lucy's mind. His words kept playing back in her head, echoing like a haunting refrain. And it wasn't just the words from a week ago that plagued her, but those from long before. And she pulled herself back into her sheets.

A vulnerable whisper echoed in her mind, a fragile confession once shared, "I sometimes feel so... lost, like I don't belong."

A distinct memory followed, a sigh laced with regret, "I messed up today, just a stupid mistake, but I can't help but feel awful about it."

And another: "Does anyone around here really like me? Or do they just put up with me because they have to?"

Then, the voice chimed in again, a softer tone filled with gratitude, "Thanks for listening to me... I'm glad someone does."

Lucy rolled over, burying her face in the part of the bed that never seemed to dry. Her tears soaked into the worn-out fabric, silent cries that went unheard.

The somber reality of Lucy's situation hung over her like a leaden shroud, a constant reminder that she was no longer Lucy Loud but Lucy Bierpong— a stranger to herself in a stranger's home. The mere concept was alien, a disconcerting shift in her identity that left her feeling hollow and disconnected. Grief, guilt, anger, regret, and a profound sense of loss danced a chaotic ballet within the confines of her soul, each taking turns to pierce her heart with sharp-edged intensity.

And yet, amid this emotional chaos, sadness had made its presence known only twice. On the first day with the Bierpongs, a tidal wave of despair had washed over her, a stark realization of the enormity of her new reality. And then again, just this morning, sadness had crept up on her like a silent predator, its icy grip seizing her heart, leaving her breathless and reeling.

This morning, she had woken up with a jolt, her heart pounding in her chest as if she had been running. The dream had been vivid, painfully so, a perfect replica of her life before the incident. She had been at home, surrounded by her family, their voices a soothing symphony of familiarity. But the dream had turned to a nightmare when Lincoln had walked in, his expression cold, eyes devoid of warmth. She had reached out for him, but he had turned his back on her, leaving her alone in the chaos.

In between the two bouts of sadness has been a creme of guilt, anger, and shame.

Guilt, that morose specter, hovered relentlessly, a relentless reminder of her failure to protect her brother. The guilt gnawed at her, like a vampire feeding on her lifeblood, leaving her feeling drained and hollow. It was a poisonous beast, one that morphed, with an alarming ease, into a seething anger.

Her anger filled her with an infernal heat. The crux of her fury centered on her ex-roommate, Lynn. Lynn, the origin of this Hellish maelstrom, the genesis of their collective suffering. Her supposed fall from grace did nothing to extinguish Lucy's growing resentment. In Lucy's forever-hidden eyes, Lynn was not the martyr she posed to be, but rather the architect of their misfortune. A grim reaper, reaping the consequences of her reckless actions.

She knew that Lynn had thrown herself to the ground in a feeble attempt to carry the cross Lucy herself had been forced to bear, but the offering to do so did not absolve her of her sins. The family fell apart due to Lynn's superstitions. Lincoln put it in no unclear terms that, no matter his feelings towards anyone, Lynn was the most at fault. In the family's darkest hours, Lucy was but a sideshow attraction, a piece of the rest of the meal, whereas Lynn was the main course.

This should be her. Lynn should be here, crying in this bed.

Lucy often wished she could pawn her suffering onto Lynn. Lynn should be the one lying in this bed, drowning in this sea of turmoil, not her. Lynn should be the one staring at the ceiling in a stranger's home, contemplating the wreckage of their family.

But then, the echo of Lincoln's past words would resurface, slicing through her anger, leaving her feeling raw and exposed. The understanding that her betrayal had wounded Lincoln so deeply was a stake through her heart, the realization that she had been his Judas, his backstabbing Brutus.

And from the ashes of her guilt and anger sprouted shame. A creeping, crawling thing, it consumed her, feasting on her self-esteem, leaving her feeling insignificant and unworthy. She was a specter in a phantom world, haunted by her own inadequacies and the harsh judgment of others.

Specters of guilt, monsters of anger, and ghouls of shame. A nightmarish reality she was forced to navigate, trapped in the labyrinth of her own making.

The voices of her erstwhile companions rang in her ears, each word a chilling echo, cutting through the deafening silence. Like the judgment of the dead.

Dante's voice was filled with disappointment, the sting of his words sharper than the coldest winter's wind. "I never thought you could sink so low, Lucy."

Boris's voice a deep rumble of disapproval. "Boris thought Lucy was different. Boris was wrong."

Persephone, her words a venomous hiss, striking at Lucy's already bruised heart. "I'm disgusted to have ever called you a friend, Lucy."

Morpheus, who stood in silent judgment, his crow delivering his verdict with a vicious caw that seemed to echo through the hollow expanses of Lucy's soul.

Bertrand, the leader, his voice cold and unfeeling, his verdict absolute. "You have disgraced us, Lucy. You no longer have a place among us."

And finally, Haiku, her voice colder than the grave, her words a chilling epitaph to their friendship. "As far as I'm concerned, I never knew you. The Lucy of the Mortician's Club was a Maschere Piange. The Lucy groveling before me is the real you: a monster!"

The chorus of their accusations bore down on her, their collective disappointment, their collective disdain. It was a cacophony of condemnation, a symphony of scorn, each note a piercing reminder of her failures, her transgressions. The shame washed over her, a frigid tide threatening to pull her under.

Her social standing was in ruins, the whispers of her peers a constant reminder of her fallen grace. She was the pariah, the outcast, the monster lurking in the shadows. She was reviled, despised, the object of their collective scorn.

All her worst fears had been realized, the specter of their collective disapproval a haunting reminder of her downfall. She had become the embodiment of her own nightmares, a grotesque reflection of the monster they believed her to be. And there was no escaping it. She was trapped in this monstrous reality, a prisoner of her own making.

This was the cycle of the past week. Wake up, ache, cry, lie to herself it wasn't so bad, then feel the guilt, anger, and shame pass through her, before conking out at night. With the occasional bite from Grimace to break up the monotony.

She didn't want to be a burden to the Bierpongs. They didn't have to take her in, after all.

She was acutely aware of the burden she had become, the unwanted guest in their quiet life. They had opened their home to her, a gesture of kindness she did not feel she deserved. The last thing she wanted was to be an imposition, a blight on their generosity. She didn't want their goodwill to be tainted by regret, their selflessness to be met with ingratitude.

She didn't want them to feel that they had wasted their time and effort on a lost cause. She wanted to be worth their kindness, their patience, their understanding. But in her current state, she feared she was far from it.

But even she couldn't fully push away the sense of unfairness that was about to pass: on this day, she was going to leave this room and move into a cupboard next to the stairs.

Could she blame her new parents for this? On some level, yes, she could. There were at least two other free rooms in the house: a bedroom converted into an office, and another room that had no seeming purpose whatsoever. Downstairs, there was a den attached to the living room. Right up above, there was the attic. She hadn't been there, but even if this one was cluttered and suffocating, she could make do. And though Billy said they didn't have a basement, she was sure she had seem something similar to a storm shelter entrance in a window overlooking the backyard.

And if nothing else, this room she currently called her own that was, like everything else, about to be taken from her— just look at it. Graciously spacious! It was larger than even her old parents' bedroom, and in her few moments of emotional clarity, she couldn't help but feel a tinge of contentment at having so much free space.

Free space that surely could be shared.

Did these two not know what conditions she had grown used to in her life? Or was that, like so much else, another thing the Bierpongs did differently?

Alas, she thanked her week-hither self for not unpacking her belongings or making any effort to decorate the room.

The sound of heavy footfalls reverberated through the house, the rhythmic thuds growing louder as Billy made his way up the stairs. His brow furrowed in irritation, he pushed open the door to Lucy's room, his gaze taking in the untouched suitcases that still lay on the floor.

"Why haven't you started moving your stuff? I told you Kingsley'll be here at noon," he demanded, his voice echoing off the bare walls of the room. His gaze landed on Lucy, her cheeks still wet with the remnants of her tears. "Wait. Are you still crying? Why are you so sad all the time?"

Lucy attempted to deflect, her voice weak. "This is just how I am," she said, shrugging her thin shoulders, "It just hurts more recently. But I've always been a saturnine child of darkness. Even as a baby."

Billy's gaze hardened as he facepalmed. "From now on, I want to see you smile more," he ordered, his voice taking on a stern, commanding tone. "In this family, we don't have time for pity parties. Especially since we're getting you a new brother. Eh? Eh? You like that? Since you're always crying about that Lincoln kid."

This didn't stir Lucy much, so Billy drooped his arms. "Oh come on. You better start smilin'!"

Her raspy voice barely above a whisper, Lucy said, "I can't see that happening. If I wasn't smiling before, why would I start now? Especially now."

Her words seemed to ignite a fuse in Billy. In a swift motion, he unhooked his belt, the metallic clink reverberating through the room. As he brandished it in front of him, Lucy instinctively took a step back, fear flashing in her eyes. "I-I was just joking," she stammered, her voice trembling.

But it was too late. With a swift, deliberate motion, Billy swung the belt, the leather strap making contact with Lucy's face. She whimpered, recoiling from the impact, but Billy's voice drowned out her whine.

"Stop that crying," he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.

Lucy rubbed her cheek, dazed and confused. In some rarely-visited part of her mind, she expected this. It had been a long time coming. But for it actually happened seemed too surreal to be anything but a dream.

With a swift, determined stride, Billy gathered up her belongings and walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing down the hall. "Follow me," he commanded without a glance back, the dismissal clear in his voice.

The room he led her to was quaintly dubbed a 'cupboard'— an term for what was, in reality, a storage space barely large enough to accommodate a mattress. Its cramped, confined walls seemed to close in on Lucy as she timidly stepped inside, the lingering sting on her cheek a stark reminder of her new reality.

A reality where she had been struck for simply attempting to add a dash of levity to her otherwise dismal disposition. The blow had been swift, unexpected, and over something as mundane as a poorly received joke. The absurdity of the situation, coupled with the raw sting of the blow, was jarring.

Not even a week into her new life, and she had already been subjected to corporal punishment.

She looked towards Mandy, her heart yearning for some semblance of comfort or understanding. She expected Mandy to reprimand Billy, to tell him he was too harsh. And indeed, she saw a pair of hardened, angry eyes.

Lucy's heart sank. Mandy was angry, and that anger was directed squarely at her.

Lucy was far from her sister Lisa in many ways, one of which was her uncanny ability to pick up on emotional cues. Even with her bangs shielding her eyes, Lucy was adept at reading body language, at understanding the emotions that danced in people's eyes, and at reading the room.

Did Mandy truly believe she had done something wrong as well?

Maybe she had...

Maybe the Louds were just too loving and forgiving. The most anyone back in that household would've done was roll their eyes. Maybe a less unhinged family would have actually been offended by such a backhanded and rebellious comment.

She heard Billy saying something about the room, and then smacking his lips and frustratedly setting stuff in random spots, but she wasn't hearing the words. The whole scene of Billy hitting her replayed in her mind more and more as she tried to rationalize why it happened.

It had been so quick, so sudden, that she barely even saw him take off his belt. It's like it materialized in his hand, struck her at some nebulous point, and he was standing there again, wrists on his hips, upset at her. And she started rationalizing that she had been a bit rude and inconsiderate all this time. She's never done chores for this family, hasn't listened to any of their talks about Milhouse in depth, barely made an attempt to get used to Grimace, and has expressed zero interest in— sound of a car pulling up.

Kingsley. The boy Mandy had been so excited to introduce to their home. Billy's feelings toward him seemed to be a peculiar blend of curiosity and another emotion Lucy couldn't quite place. It reminded her of Lynn's face when a game plan failed miserably, or Luan's reaction when a joke bombed so hard that she couldn't even laugh at it herself.

Mandy urged Lucy to at least come downstairs and meet Kingsley. Lucy sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for having taken the family's generosity for granted to the point where their patience with her had worn thin. The more she thought about it, the worse she felt about herself.

She didn't want to be so worthless. But then again, what is a person worth but what they've done in life, right? Your worth as a human can only be reduced, never increased. What people assume is an increase in worth is instead an increase in appreciation: in truth, everyone is born worth as much as they ever could be. But as they grow and act in life, some people become worth less than others.

Here she stood now, before Kingsley, a boy worth far more than herself.

Standing before Lucy was Kingsley, a boy who seemed to carry a worth greater than her own. He was a portly boy with a baseball cap perched atop his head, his ashy ginger hair peeking out from beneath it. His cheeks were rosy, his eyes warm and kind, and he wore a bright red shirt that seemed to reflect his friendly demeanor. There was an air of innocence about him, the kind that made you believe he was a genuinely good kid.

And he spoke, hesitantly and with a shudder, "Oh... THAT'S Lucy?" As he spoke, his voice carried a tone eerily reminiscent of Lincoln's, a fact that caused Lucy's heart to flutter in her chest, bringing forth a wave of fresh pain.

As Kingsley and Lucy stand awkwardly in the room, Billy interjects with a hearty chuckle. "Oh, don't be put off, Kingsley! Lucy is as harmless as they come. She just looks like death warmed over, that's all!" He claps Lucy on the back, causing her to startle slightly.

"Thanks," Lucy monotones, not particularly amused by Billy's jest. A small part of her felt concerned for this new boy. What if he had to face the belt too?

Kingsley, still wide-eyed, looked at Lucy with a mix of disbelief and curiosity. "Man, I heard you were one of those goth kids, but you're like... total," he said, shaking his head.

Billy, standing beside him, burst into laughter, his old Santa-like joviality filling the room. "Yeah, Lucy here doesn't do anything half-way," he chuckled, patting Kingsley on the shoulder. "She might look like death, but she's harmless."

"Thanks," Lucy replied, her voice a monotone that belied the flurry of emotions churning within her.

Mandy, carrying Kingsley's luggage, cast a glance at her nephew. "What did you expect?" she asked, her tone laced with mild exasperation. "She's a goth kid. They're all about embracing the darkness or something."

"Well, my sister Regina was goth," Kingsley offered, "but she wasn't as... total as Lucy."

Lucy perked up slightly at the mention of another goth. Perhaps Kingsley would understand her a little better if he had a goth sister. But as Kingsley continued to describe Regina, Lucy's hopes quickly faded. Regina, it seemed, was the kind of goth Lucy had often looked down upon: a normie who wore black because it was trendy. She felt a pang of disappointment, her thoughts drifting back to her own sisters, Lori and Leni, who once tried to adopt the goth look because of a character on their favorite show, Vampires of Melancholia. She remembered the brief glimmer of hope she had felt when Leni seemed to be embracing the goth lifestyle, only to have it snuffed out Leni suddenly started wearing some other style she didn't recall. Because apparently, "goth chic" had been declared "Like totally in" that month and then "like totally lame" that next month in a fashion zine Leni religious read at the time.

She sighed softly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she thought of those simpler times. She wondered if she would ever feel that kind of light-hearted disappointment again.

Reality came crashing back as Billy's voice sliced through her thoughts. "Lucy!" he shouted, snapping her back to the present.

All eyes were on her. She blinked, her gaze landing on the figure of a man standing before her. It was Willy Bierpong, Billy's brother, his hand extended in her direction. She barely registered his presence, so lost she had been in her own world. His resemblance to Billy was clear as day, from the identical beer belly to the wrinkles that etched his face, though he lacked Billy's characteristic mustache.

She moved to shake his hand, but he swiftly retracted it before she could make contact. "Guess she's not a social person," he said, his voice carrying a note of disappointment. "Dunno what I expected."

Heat rushed to her cheeks, embarrassment prickling her skin. She attempted to recover, forcing a smile as she extended her own hand. "Sorry," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I was just...distracted. In memory, that's all."

Willy looked at her extended hand but made no move to take it. Instead, he turned his attention to Kingsley, his jovial demeanor returning. "Well, Kingsley," he said, clapping the boy on the shoulder. "Hope you have a good time here."

Confusion washed over Lucy as Willy continued to address Kingsley, seemingly brushing her off. She was left standing there, her hand still extended, her mind a whirl of questions. What had she done wrong? Was she supposed to do something else? Her confusion morphed into a feeling of alienation, amplifying her sense of being out of place in this new family.

As they watched the family drive off, the reality of her situation sank in. She was here, in this new family, and she had no idea how to fit in. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being an outsider, of being an intruder in a world she didn't belong to.

Her gaze lingered on the departing vehicle, a modest winnebago that she hadn't even noticed before. She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed its arrival, or Willy's for that matter. She wondered how many other things she had missed, how many other social cues she had failed to catch. It was a sobering thought, adding yet another layer of complexity to the maze that was her new life.

The situation felt eerily familiar, giving Lucy a strange sense of deja vu. A family handing over a child to the Bierpongs, the quick, almost perfunctory apology before the hasty departure... She felt a pang of curiosity and confusion, a whirlpool of questions that she wanted to ask. But she couldn't. Kingsley was too busy marveling at his new room to even notice her inner turmoil.

"Oh wow, this is amazing!" Kingsley exclaimed as he stepped into his new room, his gaze darting around in wonder. Billy stood at the doorway, a proud smile on his face as he watched Kingsley's reaction.

"Thought you might like it, kiddo," Billy replied, his tone laced with satisfaction. "Plenty of space to make it your own."

Kingsley spun around, his eyes wide with delight. "I can't believe this is all mine! I've always had to share a room with Regina. Having my own space... it's just... wow!"

His words echoed in Lucy's ears, stirring a sense of curiosity within her. Kingsley shared a room with his sister? That was an interesting piece of information. And it was something she could relate to, having shared a room with her sisters back at the Loud household. She couldn't help but wonder about Kingsley's relationship with his sister. Had they been close? Or had they quarreled like siblings usually do? She wished she could ask him, but the moment didn't seem right. Instead, she stood there, lost in her thoughts, as Kingsley continued to marvel at his new room.

As she stood there, lost in her own world, a sudden thought popped into her head: why had Lincoln never shared a room with any of his sisters? The thought was so unexpected that it took her by surprise. Up until now, she'd always just assumed that it was a gender thing, that boys had to stick with boys and girls with girls. But now that she thought about it, it did seem a bit odd.

"Sigh," she uttered aloud, letting the word hang in the air.

But then again, it really wasn't that big of a deal. She decided to let the thought drift away, like a leaf on a windy day. She knew better than anyone that Lincoln would never have chosen to share a room if he had the option of having his own space.

As she rubbed her still-stinging cheek, she remembered how Lincoln had always seemed so content with his closet room. He'd seemed happier, in fact, as his older sisters moved out of their own rooms and started sharing with the new arrivals. Lincoln, it seemed, had always counted his blessings that he didn't have to share his space with anyone.

Her mind drifted back to Kingsley. What had brought him here? She wondered about his life before the Bierpongs. What sort of family had he come from? And why had they decided to leave him here? She was curious, but she didn't have the courage to ask. Not yet, anyway. For now, she would have to be content with her own imaginings.

Kingsley's energy was contagious, even to Lucy. He buzzed around the house like a child on a sugar high, his enthusiasm spilling over into every corner of the house. It was clear that he was thrilled to be here with his "rich" aunt and uncle. Lucy couldn't argue with that; the Bierpongs were definitely well off. They were DINKs: dual income, no kids. Or at least, they had been until this past week.

She assumed, naturally, that Kingsley must've had some sort of falling out with his family too. Willy's mournful face was carved with the crags of regret.

Kingsley bounded up the stairs and spotted Lucy in her small corner. "This is your room?" he asked, his voice filled with surprise. She simply nodded in response.

"Wow," was all he said before he moved on. Lucy had been about to tell him that she used to share a room with a sibling too, but he was already back in his new room. She could hear him exclaiming over the TV and the video games that lined the shelves. The sound of his joy echoed through the house, a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped it just a week before. He was a typical upper-middle-class kid, filled with happiness and completely oblivious to the world outside his bubble.

Hearing the opening chords of AC/DC's "For Those About to Rock" was a surprise to Lucy, as she fumbled with her phone to answer the call. Her heart raced, knowing that the customized ringtone could only mean one thing.

"Sigh," she began, her go-to opening.

"Really, brah? You're still gonna open a call like that?" Luna's voice was full of warmth, and Lucy could practically see her sister's smile through the phone.

Lucy couldn't help but smile herself, feeling a flood of happiness at hearing her sister's voice. Anyone's voice from the Loud House, really. But why now?

Luna's raspy voice filled Lucy's ear as she rambled on, the words tumbling out of her like water over a dam.

"I mean, we've all been sorta out of it, ya know?" Luna's voice dipped, a note of sadness creeping into her usually energetic tone. "It's like we're all still waiting for you to come back home, like it's just one of your goth pranks or something. Where we'll all turn around one day and you'll be standing there and we'll all scream and then... you know, we'll all be back together."

There was a pause, the silence stretching out between them. Lucy knew Luna was waiting for her to say something, anything. But she couldn't find the words.

"Anyway, I've been wanting to call you for days now, but I just... I don't know, Lucy. I kept putting it off." Luna's voice was softer now, more contemplative. "I think... I think I was scared, you know? Like, if I actually talked to you, it would make all of this real. Like I'd have to finally admit that you're not here anymore."

Another pause, another expectation for Lucy to fill the silence. And again, she found herself unable to speak, the lump in her throat growing larger.

"God, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," Luna laughed, but it was devoid of any real humor. "I just... I just miss you, Lucy. We all do."

It was that admission, that raw, honest confession of Luna's feelings, that finally broke the dam.

Lucy?" Luna's voice queried, snapping her out of her thoughts. "You still there, brah?"

"Yeah," Lucy's voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion. She could feel the tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over.

"Hey, are you okay?" Luna's voice was laced with concern, the usual upbeat tone replaced with worry. Lucy could practically see the furrow in her sister's brow, the slight frown on her face.

"I'm fine," Lucy lied, forcing a small laugh, trying to sound casual. But her voice betrayed her, wavering slightly.

"Lucy..." Luna's voice was soft, filled with a quiet understanding. "It's okay, you know? It's okay to not be okay. We're all... we're all dealing with this."

The acknowledgment, the shared understanding of their situation, was what finally broke Lucy's resolve. The tears that she'd been holding back finally spilled over, a silent sob wracking her body. Luna was right. It was okay to not be okay. But the realization of that only made the situation harder, the weight of it all pushing down on her. She was alone. Far away from her family, from her sisters, from Luna.

And all she had was their voices, echoing through the phone, reminding her of a home she was no longer a part of.

"It's okay, Luce. I'm still here for you. Even if, you know, I'm not here for you." Luna's voice softened, trying to comfort Lucy. "And hey, I've been talking with Lincoln."

Lucy quieted and tensed, fear rising up in her chest at the thought of what might have come from that conversation. "Really? What... What did he say?"

"Well, nothing much, to be honest. He still seems pretty sore about the whole toilet thing." Luna explained, her tone sympathetic.

As Lucy had feared. Luna continued, saying she had made it her goal to always be there for Lincoln, and she was sorry if it sounded like she was letting him down. In response, Lucy found an opportunity to encourage Luna to be even more supportive. "Maybe you can become his guardian, Luna. You know, there was that weird rumor the others had about you being Lincoln's guardian. Maybe it's a sign. Trust me, I know he needs someone like that in this most tempest of times."

"Guardian?" Luna stifled a laugh, and Lucy imagined her looking back and forth at something else in the room. "Lucy, that was just a dumb joke people made. Why would I be his guardian?"

Nothing.

"Lucy?"

Nothing.

"I mean, if it makes you feel better, I'll do my best to be by his side. It's not like, you know, I had any plan to start avoiding him or anything. If it matters to you, I'll tell him you wanted me to be closer to him."

"Luna."

"Oi?"

Lucy pulled her lips in to stifle a cry and looked up. "Um… I…" She ran her hand across her forehead, flashing her eyes to the walls. "I need to tell you something."

"What's that, sis?"

"The truth, the cold truth, why Lincoln is so mad at me."

As if they lived in a cartoon, Lucy felt she heard Luna's eyes boggle across the distance.

"What I'm going to tell you is very personal and it meant a lot to Lincoln that it remain a secret between us. But… there's a reason why I want someone to know. For his sake."

"I'm all ears, bruv."

Lucy prepped her next words like a nuclear warhead. The covenant of secrecy she shared with her brother was about to be blown to bits.

An unreleased episode of the Loud House...

"Diary-Ugh!"

The Loud House, as always, is a cacophony of sound and chaos. In the midst of it all, Lincoln Loud is in his room, speaking directly to the audience as he often does.

"Every good problem-solver needs a tool to help them out," he says, holding up a thick book, its cover nondescript and faded. "For me, it's this. My special book, full of all my secrets, useful ideas... everything I need when I'm in a pinch."

Just outside his room, Lola and Lana are playing. Lola is dolled up in one of her pageant dresses, while Lana, ever the tomboy, is smudged with dirt and holding a frog. At the sound of Lincoln's voice, Lola holds up a hand, silencing her twin.

"Shh!" Lola says, pressing her ear against the door. Lana gives her a puzzled look.

"Why are you shushing me?" she asks, just as the frog in her hand lets out a loud ribbit. Lola grimaces and pushes the frog away.

"Quiet!" she whispers.

Just then, Lincoln's voice drifts through the door again, saying, "It's always there, ready to help me out."

Lola's eyes light up.

Downstairs, their parents call for Lincoln. "Lincoln, your Mom and I are taking you to the comic book store now! If we hurry, we can stop by Aloha Comrade and catch the lunch deal for Sergei's pineapple and beetroot borscht!"

Lincoln made a gagging face of disgust and shouted, "Coming!" A moment later, he opens his door, book in hand, and is surprised to see Lola and Lana standing there. He tucks the book under his arm, gives them a curious look, but shrugs it off.

"Hey, guys. What's up?" he asks, stepping out of his room.

"Nothing!" Lola says quickly, her voice an octave higher than usual. "Just... hanging out. You know, as you do."

Lincoln gives her an odd look but doesn't press it. "Okay then," he says, and heads downstairs.

As Lincoln traipses down the stairs, clutching his special book to his chest, he talks to the audience, "Gotta keep this little guy safe and sound. I've got the perfect hiding spot for it. Nice and hidden, just the way it needs to be."

With that, he stashes the book away, off-screen, and he follows his parents out of the house, leaving his sisters none the wiser. The only evidence of the book is his sly smile, a secret kept between him and the audience.

As soon as the front door swings shut, Lola turns to Lana, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous sparkle. "Did you hear all that, Lana? Lincoln's got a diary!"

Lana looks at her sister, her brow furrowed in confusion. "Diary? Ain't that one of them fancy city words for poop journal?"

Lola rolls her eyes and facepalms, "No, you dummy! A diary is like... a secret book where you write down all your thoughts and feelings."

At that, a light bulb seems to go off in Lana's head. "Oh! So, it's like a handbook for blackmail!"

Lola nods, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Exactly!" With sinister intent, she rubs her hands together. "And if we can find it, we can know all of Lincoln's secrets!"

In their excitement, the twins don't notice Lynn and Lisa passing by, their ears perked up at the mention of the diary. "Did you say 'secrets'?" Lynn asks, her tone mischievous.

Lisa, ever the scientist, is more interested in the psychological implications. "Intriguing. The contents of Lincoln's diary could provide a wealth of data on the male adolescent mind."

At this point, the twins have made quite a commotion, and it's enough to draw the attention of the rest of the sisters. Leni, Luna, and Luan appear in the doorway, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern.

Leni, ever the empathetic sister, immediately frowns. "Guys, isn't it, like, mean to go through Lincoln's stuff?"

Luna nods in agreement, "Yeah, dudes, Lincoln deserves his privacy too."

Luan, carrying Mr. Coconuts, is torn. As the resident prankster, she can't help but see the potential humor in the situation, but she also values Lincoln's privacy. "It does sound funny, but I think Leni and Luna are right. Lincoln's diary is off-limits."

Meanwhile, Lori is away checking out her future college, so she's oblivious to the ensuing chaos at home. Lily toddles away, uninterested in whatever was going on.

"We're all gathered here today, I see." Everyone in the hall could almost hear a pipe organ wail out as they scream in unison. Behind them is Lucy. "What's the occasion? Another dead pet? A procession for our hopes and dreams?"

"Bruh," Lynn starts. "You won't believe this! Stinkoln's been keepin' a diary from us!" She snorted and chuckled to herself. "Idiot thought he could get away with it!"

"And what exactly does that have to do with me?"

Lola rolled her eyes, "Well duh! We're totally going to blackmail him with it. Come on!"

"Uh, no. Diaries are private mementos of one's inner thoughts and soul, like one's ongoing eulogy to their own life."

Lynn, always the instigator, turns to her with a sly grin. "Come on, Lucy, you're always writing in that poetry book of yours. Wouldn't you love to see what Lincoln writes?"

Lucy hesitates, overwhelmed by the number of girls staring her down.

Finally, Lynn pushes her over the edge with a promise: "It'll be so full of juicy secrets, you'll want to throw out all your other books. I bet Linc's got trauma for days!"

With a resigned sigh, Lucy caves. "Fine, I'm in."

And with that, the hunt for Lincoln's diary begins.

"Now, if we consider the statistical probability and combine it with our knowledge of Lincoln's behavioral patterns as well as our own collective interests," Lisa begins, adjusting her glasses, "It becomes clear that Lucy would be the most likely to know where Lincoln keeps his diary due to her preoccupation with personal expression through literary means."

Lucy glances around at her eager sisters, then says, "Sigh, fine. Follow me," she says, leading the way.

The first stop is the attic, where Lucy points to a dusty, cobweb-covered trunk nestled in the corner. "He likes old things, so he might have put it here," Lucy says, her voice echoing in the quiet, stuffy space.

Lynn eagerly steps forward, throwing open the trunk with a dramatic flourish. But instead of a diary, they find a collection of antique magazines. Lisa groans in disappointment, Lola and Lana frown, and Lynn can't help but chuckle.

"Well, this isn't a total loss," she quips, holding up an old issue of 'HANDEGG' prominently featuring a splash of 80s football legend Mo "Tecmo" Johnson.

The search continues, with Lucy leading them through a series of increasingly bizarre and unlikely hiding spots. A hidden compartment in the living room bookshelf, a secret drawer in the kitchen, even a hollowed-out spot in the backyard tree. Each time, they find something interesting, but not Lincoln's diary.

Eventually, Lola's patience wears thin. "This is ridiculous!" she exclaims, stomping her foot. "I'm taking over!"

Without waiting for a response, she marches over to the loose floorboard in the hallway, something that had been there for ages but no one had thought to check. "Lincoln always liked this spot," she says, pointing at the floor. "Yes, THIS EXACT SPOT. Why? Who knows!" And with grace, as she steps on the floorboard, it lifts. From within, she pulls out a book. It's labeled 'LINCOLN'S SECRETS.'

Lola holds it up triumphantly like a piece of the Triforce, a victorious grin on her face. "See? I knew I'd find it!" she exclaims, and the sisters gather around, their expressions a mix of shock and excitement. They had finally found the elusive diary...

The sound of the front door creaking open cuts through the excited chatter. Lincoln steps inside, freezing in his tracks when he sees his sisters huddled together, passing around the book. He rushes forward, determined to get it back.

"Hey, that's mine! Give it back!" Lincoln shouts, lunging for the book.

The sisters react quickly, tossing the book between them in a frantic game of hot potato. Lincoln leaps and stretches, trying to intercept the book as it flies through the air. The hot potato evolves into a chaotic fight cloud, with limbs and eyeballs flying and the sisters scrambling to keep the book away from Lincoln.

Suddenly, the book lands in Lucy's hands. She manages to read a few lines from the pages, her eyes widening in surprise. The sisters, desperate to hear what she's discovered, crowd around her.

"What's in there, Lucy?" Lana asks, her voice filled with curiosity.

"Yeah, spill it!" Lynn demands, barely able to contain her excitement.

But Lucy hesitates. "It's... it's..." she stammers, her face going paler than it's ever been. "It's so shocking and embarrassing that the world mustn't know!" she declares, making a quick decision. With a swift motion, she tosses the book into a nearby shredder.

"My book!" Lincoln wails, watching it get torn to pieces.

"Lincoln's diary!" Lola shrieks in horror, her dreams of juicy secrets being torn to shreds right before her eyes.

In the aftermath, Lisa bends down to pick up a single shredded piece of paper that flutters by. Her eyes narrow as she scans the text. "Interesting... it appears to be some sort of code," she mutters, scrutinizing the strange shapes and sequence of words, "Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A Select Start." Perhaps I should feed this into a codebreaking machine to better analyze its meaning."

"Why would you even want to read it?" he demands, his voice heavy with sadness. "It was mine! My personal thoughts that I didn't want to share with anyone... Don't I deserve my own space?"

His words hit home, and the sisters look at each other guiltily. They knew the value of privacy, especially in their crowded house. They'd just lost sight of that in their quest for Lincoln's secrets.

The look of betrayal on Lincoln's face! They all feel it.

Shame and guilt wash over the sisters. "We're really sorry, Lincoln," Lynn says, the eldest sister in the house at the moment. "We should've respected your privacy."

Lisa pushes up her glasses, a serious expression on her face. "I allowed my pursuit of data to cloud my judgment. That was unethical and... and I'm sorry, Lincoln. I was a terrible sister."

Lola and Lana, for once, are silent. They look at their shoes, their hands twisting in their skirts. "We didn't mean to..." Lola starts, her voice unusually soft.

"We just thought it'd be fun," Lana finishes, her voice equally quiet.

Lucy steps forward, her eyes meeting Lincoln's. "I'm sorry for shredding your book, Lincoln. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just destroying your privacy."

Lincoln takes a deep breath, looking at each of his sisters in turn. "It's alright, guys," he says, his voice steady. "We all make mistakes. And we still have each other. That's what matters."

The sisters look relieved, and they all offer to share some of their own secrets with Lincoln to make up for what they did. He smiles, grateful for their efforts to make things right.

Later, Lincoln sneaks into the basement, checking his surroundings before he pulls out a hidden book. His real diary. He sighs in relief. The plan worked. They never suspected a thing.

A few steps into the dimly lit basement, Lincoln turns to address the camera directly, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Phew, that was a close one," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "They never suspected a thing and didn't find my real diary."

With a dramatic flourish, he pulls back a heavy curtain to reveal Lucy sitting comfortably in a makeshift lounge. Lincoln chuckles, "Yep, meet my vampiress diary. Lucy."

He walks towards her, "Turns out Lucy was the only sister willing to listen to my problems and feelings without blabbing to the others. I tried Luna first, but she was more interested in new song lyrics." He shrugs, "Lori was a good listener, until she got caught up in her own problems with Bobby," he gestures as if to a picture of Lori and Bobby on an invisible wall. "Lily was an option, but she's a baby. She can't even talk back."

He sits down next to Lucy, both of them comfortable in the dim light of the basement. "I was worried Lucy would use my secrets for her poetry, but she only draws from her own feelings for those. I wanted to actually talk to a person about my innermost thoughts and Lucy... well, she appreciates someone talking to her instead of ignoring or running away from her."

He chuckles again, "As for the book from earlier? Well, Lucy and I knew this day would come. Inevitably in a house like this, my other sisters would try to get a hold of anything they could use to embarrass me. So, we used an old book full of cheat codes and game secrets as a decoy that Lucy would destroy. Now, they'll never know what's inside and are none the wiser!"

Lucy, who had been quiet all this time, finally speaks up. "Lincoln," she starts, her voice hesitant, "Who exactly are you talking to right now?"

Lincoln's expression shifts as he looks back and forth between her and you.

Iris in!

Luna's jaw dropped. "You…. were his diary?"

The rocker knew she was nodding. The tendrils of Lucy's voice, delicate and somber, whispered truths through the phone, spinning a tale of a bond that Luna had never truly understood.

"You know, Luna," Lucy began, her voice a soft and raspy murmur, "Lincoln and I...we shared something deeper than just siblinghood."

Luna quirked an eyebrow at that, her mind conjuring images that made her scoff. "What, like some...Sweet Home Alabama level stuff?" she joked.

Lucy paused, confusion evident in her voice, "I...don't follow."

Luna shivered, quickly dropping the subject with a gag, "Never mind, it was a bad joke." Shaking off the awkward moment, Luna focused back on Lucy's words. "Okay, but what do you mean 'deeper'?"

Lucy sighed, "Lincoln needed someone. Someone who could understand his emotions, his fears, his dreams. He needed a confidante, a safe harbor amidst the storm. And he found that in me."

"But...why not all of us? We're all his sisters, right?" Luna asked, rubbing the back of her head, her mind racing to comprehend the depth of the relationship Lucy was describing. Thankfully Luan wasn't in the room.

"You see, Luna," Lucy said, her voice somber, "trust is not something that can be divided equally among many. It's intimate, personal. Lincoln trusted me, and I...I failed him."

Luna could hear the guilt and regret in Lucy's voice, and it made her heart ache. But then Lucy's tone shifted, becoming more resolute.

"But you, Luna," Lucy said, "you can be that for him. You can be his Rocker Diary. Be the sister I failed to be. Please, do it for him… and for me."

Author's Note (Thunder): Whew. That was intense.

It's been a year. Now you know.

So let me explain. This actually stems from Family Guy of all shows. Long before that Vinny dog, there was another "new dog" to replace Brian, and one of his scenes involved him becoming Meg's living diary. It was a silly but surprisingly heartwarming scene for the show that stuck with me for many years, and I decided to use it for Rotten Apple back in 2020.

It was supposed to be a somewhat sizable plot detail, but the story developed in a way that made it largely unnecessary. I decided to bring it back for ALID and base the whole inciting incident around it. I didn't intend on putting this scene off for an entire year, needless to say. I think that, if no other scene in the story, this one is the one I wish I had gotten to last May just so there was no mystery or befuddlement.

See, I didn't want something TOO bad that made Lucy genuinely irredeemable, but also bad enough to justify Lincoln's anger. The idea he trusted her enough for her to be his vampiress diary and lost that honor after No Such Luck is certainly tragic…. And adorable! It's my personal headcanon, that Lucy might actually be Lincoln's diary in the show. I mean I know it's not true, but it'd be cute if it was.

I suppose I just wanted to thread the needle between something tragic and something cute, something that reasonably explains why Lincoln is so upset while also justifying why even Lincoln himself wonders if he went too far.

Finally... "Six Years in the Making." What a strange title, eh? What happened six years ago? Well, don't look in universe but in real life, back to 2017. What happened six years ago that has any relevance to this chapter? I'd leave it an enigma, but phooey to that. It's a direct reference to Syngenesophobia. Particularly that story's most infamous scene: Lynn Sr. brandishing a belt with the threat that he will use it if his daughters misbehave again.

I know the point of that scene was simply to communicate to the usual Karma Houdini sisters that their warranty had just expired hardcore, and that he was never actually meant to swing the belt. However, ever since Rotten Apple, I've pretty consistently have had Lucy be on the receiving end of a belt thrashing, with the tragedy of that scene always being that it was either a misunderstanding or she didn't do anything to really deserve it, at least in that moment. In Rotten Apple, it was more narratively tragic since it was Senior himself dishing it out. However I never actually got anywhere near the scene where Senior strikes Lucy. I never even got near the scene where he first threatens the sisters.

But if a belt whooping of a Loud sister is what you've been waiting for, here it is. Six years in the making. I hope you're happy now.