I'm well aware that it's past December and no chapter was released, but wait! ...I have a justifiable answer to that. And that would be the fact that my beloved laptop broke down in the end of November, hindering my steady path of writing. Whoop dee doo. I tried typing a new story on my phone, but I that barely worked when I was well remind of the cat-dog relationship between my phone and Fanfiction. So, I said screw and I'll just use the school computers until my laptop's fixed.

With that out of the way, the nest thing to address... Responding to the reviewers, of course. This is kinda a first for me, so bare with me.

I'll start with the ones from the note.

Putain de Plagieur: Again, thanks, man. The positive feedback gave me a confidence boost.

Red the Pokemon Master: Interesting. Could I add more to this idea at some point?

Just4FunFiction: Thanks, that's comforting. Hopefully, I won't let the story drift away in an unfinished conclusion like I've seen in other stories.

Well... here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: The Loud House, under no way, belongs to me. Chris Savino and Nickeloden claim those rights.

'Thinking'

"Speaking"

Dreaming and/or memory sequence

'Device speaking/Hardcore yelling'

Chapter 1: A Glimpse of the Past

6 Years Ago...

March 17th, 2012: McBride's Residence, Royal Woods, Michigan - 10:15 am

Video games.

The pride and joy of a boy's life before he reached manhood. There was just something in particular that made them so addicting. Was it the repeated button mashing with your fingers and the controller? Or the fighting sequences of your character on the TV monitor? The level design? Or perhaps even the breathtaking or crappy quality of a cut scene?

For Clyde McBride, it was all and the above.

"No! Go the other way, Bucky! The other. Way!"

Nervous-filled chocolate brown eyes covered by blue tinted lenses, watched in anticipation as the selected character, a beaver lumberjack, dodged a green laser blast on screen. The source of the laser, a brutish cyclops, roared in anger and started to give chase.

Clyde yelped in surprise, and on instinct, smashed his thumb against the right analog stick of his PS2 controller. On command, his character took off in a heartbeat, racing away from his pursuer as fast as he could.

The young dark skinned boy bit his lower lip hopefully, and leaned forward toward the screen, his eyes wide and attentive to the level he was currently on. He had to get away and find a power up. If he didn't then it was back to square one, which was something he'd rather avoid.

His eyes darted back from right to left. Come on... Where was it? Where-

The shrill sound of a doorbell pierced through the air and assaulted the boy's eardrums. The unexpected sound shook him to the core, and caused him to yelp in surprise. His concentration now broken from the resonating cry of the doorbell, it made his fingers slip away from the controller and caused his character to stop moving. The beaver stood there for a solid four seconds, before a blast of green energy rocketed on the screen from the top left corner and obliterated the lumberjack.

Clyde stared blankly at the screen, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had to start the whole level all over again... And to make matters worse, only one life remained...

A sharp ring from the doorbell sounded again, ripping the boy away from his building thoughts. With a sigh, Clyde grasped the controller, put the game on pause, and climbed up to his feet. Sparing one last glance at the TV, he begrudgingly made his way over to the front door and came to a halt.

Placing his hand on the doorknob, he grasped it and slowly opened the door, ready to greet his guest as politely as he could-

-And came face to face with quite a bizarre sight.

A boy around his age and height stood before him. His trademark snowy white hair was a tangled mess of dirt covered stray strands of wild hair, twigs, and leaves, resembling that of a bird's nest. Splotches of mud and grass stains peppered his wrinkled orange pajamas, and his body hunched itself over in clear exhaustion. The usual splash of dark freckles on his cheeks glistened from the sweat that dripped down his face, and his normally, bright, blue vivid eyes were lowered halfway in fatigue.

Lincoln Loud looked as if he would pass out at any given second.

At the miserable sight of his best friend, Clyde could only do a double-take, "Lincoln?!"

The loud onslaught of noise made Lincoln jump, his slowly closing eyes shooting straight open while a cry of surprise left his lips.

"Gah! I'm awake, Lori! I'm awake!" he gave a hurried salute and straightened himself up.

Now, normally just the mere mention of his crush alone would be enough to rattle his senses and cause him a huge nosebleed, with blood pouring out of his nostrils like the Niagara Falls, but at the moment? Genuine concern clouded his mind at the sorry state of the only Loud boy.

Clyde frowned, and gently waved a hand in the boy's face to get his attention, "Dude, come inside. You look like you'll pass out any second now,"

Once he calmed down, Lincoln only nodded his head in comply, too tired to utter any further words.

Taking him by the arm, the bespectacled boy led his guest inside the house and stopped to close the door behind with his foot. Afterwards, he directed his fellow eleven year old over to the couch and lightly pushed him down until the boy was sitting on the blue sofa.

The moment he made contact with the soft cushion of the couch, did Lincoln feel his body relax, and leaned backwards into pillows, a sigh of pure bliss escaping his mouth. This... was way better than laying on wet grass in the front yard. The warmth of the indoor heat instead of the crisp, chilly air of early spring stacked with the softness of the pillows cushioning his back and head and not the cold, wet blades of grass that stained his clothes? His eyelids were tempted to close right then and there, giving into the comfort of the homey environment.

"Lincoln... what happened?"

Lifting his eyelids open, Lincoln tiredly glanced to the side and noticed Clyde, who now currently sat on the beanbag chair in front of the TV. The dark skinned boy sported a worried look as his eyes carefully examined the rough condition of his Loud guest. When he made eye contact with said guest, his fingers cupped each other in concern.

Breaking eye contact, Lincoln turned away, his tired eyes adopting a pained look as he said nothing. What had happened? All he wanted was a little time to himself, an opportunity to relax without having to worry about playing peacemaker, or tend to his sisters' events. Was that too much to ask for?

A certain memory crawled from within the inner depths of his mind and surfaced, tormenting his troubled, tired mood with recent events he'd rather forget.

"-Lame. My team's won our last six games and you're the only member of this family who hasn't come out to support me," Lynn Junior pointed out, a slight frown marring her face.

"That's because I was supporting six other sisters at their things," Lincoln defended, with his arms crossed. He closed his eyes and lifted his nose in the air, "Sorry, Lynn, but I can't just do it today,"

The sound of wood tapping against skin instantly met his ears, "Sure you won't reconsider?"

Lincoln was perfectly ready to just close himself off in his room and hide there for the remainder of the day, reading away at his comic books. But when he heard the sharp edge in his older sister's tone, it prompted him to open his eyes and face her. Lynn stood in his way, brandishing her not so innocent wooden baseball bat in her hands. Her upset frown had shifted to a shark like grin on her face, and her emerald green eyes, although lowered halfway, held a dangerous, predatory gleam that promised pain should he upset her further.

The sight was enough to bring Lincoln out of his indifferent mood.

"H-hey," he cried, alarmed at the apparent threat, "You can't make me go! Not like that!"

His protest only widened the brunette's grin.

"Wanna bet?" she challenged with a smug smirk, taking a step forward.

Warily, Lincoln stared at the bat that wouldn't mind bashing a part of him with Lynn by it's side. And then he switched his gaze from the wooden object to his sister, who looked so intent on following through with her threat. The sight made him internally curse his luck. Of course he just had to bump into the athletic sister, the most competitive sister out of ten! She just had to have a game today of all days. Lincoln, with the help of Clyde, had planned this free day to himself for weeks now! Why couldn't he just catch a break for once? And given his position, if he tried to move downstairs, his sister would probably snatch him right up and prevent him from alerting the others of her actions. So, it was either face a whack from the baseball bat, or suck it up and attend his sister's baseball game against his will.

Judging by look of the whole predicament, the choice was quite clear.

Releasing a resigned sigh, Lincoln threw his sister an annoyed look,"Fine. I'll go,"

A large smile broke across Lynn's face.

"I knew I could count on you, bro," she purred, lowering her bat and giving his hair a small ruffle. She either didn't notice Lincoln's dissatisfaction or didn't really care for it, too caught up in her own good mood as she passed Lincoln and made her way down the steps.

The boy stared after her retreating form and sighed. So much for having some quality time...

Sky blue eyes narrowed once the memory came to an end.

Apparently, it had been too much to ask for. Forced to come to his sister's baseball game, said sister loses the game, and automatically pins the blame on him, deeming him bad luck. And then the process of slowly shunning him shifts into kicking him outside of family activities, and later on, the household, throughout the span of a few days. He knew Lynn could be quite superstitious at times, but he didn't think she'd take them this far. Partially, it was his own fault for going along with her claims and acting out the part. He hadn't realized that his actions would further encourage the superstitious beliefs of the other members in the household... until they took it to the extreme. Nor did he anticipate for them to convert their once non-believing ways over to the paranoid nutty side. Even Lisa, the smartest member in the family, had fallen pray to the claim of his supposed bad luck.

So, yeah, he knew when to take responsibility of his actions. But nutty or not, that didn't excuse the actions of the entire family... such as forcing him to sleep outside. Well, nearly, the whole family. He didn't blame Lily, his baby sister who was most likely under the influence of their remaining sisters, nor did he blame their pets, animals that had their own ways to reacting to the negative emotions around them.

"Lincoln?"

The young Loud member blinked, and directed his attention back to Clyde. His best friend sat on the couch now, no longer near his untouched console on the floor. Crossing his arms, the bespectacled boy gave his guest a look similar to what a mother would give when scolding her children.

"Linc, I want to help," he firmly said, his tone leaving no room for arguments, "But I can't do that if you won't say anything. While I normally won't bug someone with their problems," his inquisitive eyes softened a little as they studied the ragged appearance before them, "This is serious. I can tell,"

Lincoln had to smile at that. At least someone cared for him at the moment.

Adopting a thoughtful look, he silently weighed his options, his body leaning further into the couch cushions. Tell Clyde, his best friend he's known since they were in preschool, his dire situation... or keep it to himself and try to solve the problem on his own? And given the way the boy's intelligent brown eyes were carefully gazing over him, and the fact that his living arrangement was still deemed as the outdoors, the choice was painfully obvious. After all, he wasn't sure how much further he could take this 'bad luck' situation.

The Loud boy sighed, and threw his friend a tired glance.

"Clyde... I need help,"

I imagine this whole situation starting a few days prior to Sam Patrick's Day makes it a little more realistic. But hey, that's only my opinion.

My goal is to make this story stand out from other No Such Luck stories out there...

I'll find a way. Mark. My. Words.

Next update will be somewhere in the middle of March.