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Upcoming Event for the TCM fandom!
After the success of the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks event back in December, this blog has been relaunched for a new upcoming event!
For one week in July, there will be a corresponding series of prompts and themes relating to disability and disabled characters in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 1, 2, and the game. However, as long as disability is the primary focus of the piece, there is no requirement that these prompts must be followed.
By piece, this means that all kinds of fan content are accepted. Fics, art, writing, playlists, covers, edits, moodboards, and so on. Anything you can dream of. I simply ask that no AI generation is used in the process of the creation.
Then, when it’s time to post, participants just use the event hastags! #tcmfanevent AND #tcmdisabilityweek
Additionally, dark and disturbing content will be allowed due to the nature of canon, but with limitations. My harsh limitation is that no proship pairings be featured. This means absolutely no family x family or adult x minor ships. In the case of past trauma or references to unwanted events like these, I ask that the piece be tagged and adorned with warnings accordingly.
If a participant has any questions on limitations or otherwise, this blog is open for messaging and inbox submissions, as well as the moderators own blog @charleslee-valentine. I will answer from any of those places if questions arise.
Finally, I want to clarify that this event is neutral on disability. I am disabled myself and find joy in my life in different ways because of it. Please do not use this event as an opportunity to bash a disabled identity. This is a celebration of the canonically disabled characters in universe first and foremost, like Bubba, the Sawyer twins, and Franklin. Personal frustration, ableism, and difficulty are obviously allowed, and the content doesn’t have to be all sunshine and rainbows, as long as the line into intense and unresolved self-hatred isn’t crossed.
Again, if this leads to any questions, please just let me know.
Onto Prompts! The image below has a least for ease of saving, and there is also a text version down below.
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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Disability Pride Event Prompt List
Day 1- Alternate Communication
• Bubba Sawyer is nonverbal. What other ways might they speak with their family?
Day 2- Weird Lookin’
• Nubbins Sawyer stims and plays freely, but faces ableism. Feature his relationship to disability in this piece.
Day 3- ‘Nam Flashback
• Chop Top Sawyer has PTSD and head trauma. Explore his experience with disability.
Day 4- Gonna Be A Fun Trip
• Franklin Hardesty is a paraplegic wheelchair user. Highlight mobility aids for him.
Day 5- Victims
• Stretch, Sally, Franklin; How might TCM victims be disabled after their time with the Sawyers? Remember the Sawyers themselves may also be victims in the right context.
Day 6- Underestimated
• Times when a disabled character wasn’t taken seriously.
Day 7- Headcanon Disability
• Your favorite headcanon/interpretation for TCM character disabilities.
_____
The reason this event is limited to TCM 1 (1974) and TCM part 2 (1986) and the 2023 game is for ease of moderation, since these are the only TCM media I, the event runner, am familiar with.
With that said, I hope you’re all as excited as I am for this event during disability pride month! See you July 1st-7th!! No sign-ups required! Just create and post if you’re interested!!
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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Master List!
————
*Artwork!*
Day 1- Favorite Ships
Lefton by @jasonvoorheehees
Lefton by @maskemasker
Lefton by @rela-monarchy39
Lefton and Franknub by @ofthehands
Day 2- The Family House
The family house by @the-1ncident-house
Bubba and their pet by @maskemasker
Grandma and Grandpa Sawyer by @jasonvoorheehees
Drayton and the twins by @ofthehands
Day 3- Alternate Universe
Zombie Nubbins by @the-1ncident-house
Role-swap Nubbins by @maskemasker
Tcm 2 Phatom of the Opera by @jasonvoorheehees
Day 4- Hobbies
Nubbins’ hobby by @the-1ncident-house
Drayton’s hobby by @jasonvoorheehees
Day 5- The Saw is Family
The Sawyer twins by @maskemasker
Grandpa and baby bubba by @jasonvoorheehees
Young bubba and Nubbins by @the-1ncident-house
Day 6- Music is my Life
Chop Top w/ lyrics by @maskemasker
Schrei Nach Liebe by @the-1ncident-house
Day 7- It’s a Good Picture
Nubbins’ photograph by @jasonvoorheehees
Role-Swap au Nubbins reminisces by @maskemasker
*Fanfiction*
Day 1- Favorite Ships
Franknub by @charleslee-valentine
Day 2- The Family House
Drayton Sawyer character study by @charleslee-valentine
Day 3- Alternate Universe
The Sawyer twins reunite by @charleslee-valentine
Day 4- Hobbies
Bubba’s hobby by @charleslee-valentine
Day 5- The Saw is Family
Lefton with trans Drayton by @charleslee-valentine
Sawyer sibling drabbles by @rela-monarchy39
Mange by @ofthehands
Day 6- Music is my Life
Choptop x Stretch by @charleslee-valentine
Turn it Up by @ofthehands
Day 7- It’s a Good Picture
Disabled Nubbins by @charleslee-valentine
Franklin and Nubbins enjoy the sunset by @wispvial
Pre-Franknub by @ofthehands
*Playlists*
Day 6- Music is my Life
Southern Discomfort by @jasonvoorheehees
Songs ChopTop would listen to by @rela-monarchy39
*Inspired Pieces*
Day 4- Hobbies
Bone crafts by @ofthehands
Day 7- It’s a Good Picture
Franknub Photograph/Cosplay by @the-1ncident-house
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Day 7: It's a good picture!
Whoa OK, this one is hella late, hopefully not too late tho. Anyways, thought I would give the franknub fans a Lil something before new years eve. @texas-chainsaw-fanworks
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Final reminder!
The last day to post late submissions is tomorrow, December 31st!
The Texas Chainsaw Fanworks Event accepts art, writing, playlists, moodboards, edits, crafts, or any kind of tcm inspired works!!
If you have any pieces prepared, for any of the prompts,/days of the event, and it follows the rules, you may submit them until the end of the day on the 31st!! All you have to do is tag this blog and use the hashtag #tcmfanevent!
Thanks all for a great event!
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Day 7- It's a Nice Picture
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
A bit late, such is, but still here before the deadline lol. I just wanna say thank you for running this whole thing, it's been a lot of fun, and the prompts have gotten me writing and drawing more than I have been in a long time.
This one is a longer pre-Franknub/ Franknub adjacent short about Nubbins taking the same picture over and over again. 15,000 words. Warnings for main character death (like a lot, but they get better, it's a time loop), canon-typical violence (including the brother on brother variety), some ableism, gay homophobe Drayton moments, and general Sawyer-isms.
It's a Nice Picture
Nubbins could feel his blood pumping, and he knew he was alive. He chased the girl down, stumbling a bit as he went, and slashing her all the while. She screamed and he laughed. Everything had been boring since Bobby left for Vietnam, so having an actual dinner guest and getting to play with her like this was great fun for Nubbins. He hadn’t had this much fun in- well- in a long time. She ran towards the road. He hoped she’d get her foot stuck in the cattle guard- that had happened to someone they had for dinner before- but she stepped over it and into the road. Bubba was catching up, Nubbins could hear the buzzsaw purring, so he picked up the pace. He wanted as much time playing with this girl as he could get- before everything got boring again- before Cook tried to reel them back in. He ran onto the road with her, catching her for a second, and cutting her again and again across the back, giggling. She elbowed him hard in the chin, and he got angry- slashing at her harder. He thought he heard Bubba say something, but he didn’t know what it was. And he probably never would. He heard the truck, turned, and yelped, and then he was under it. There wasn’t much after that. He couldn’t see anything. He didn’t smell much but blood. There was pain, for a brief moment, and Bubba wailing and some indescribable feeling. The last thing he was conscious of was the blood. Nubbins could feel his blood pumping, and he knew that he was dead. 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Not consciously, but just because he was supposed to. Then he regained control. Nubbins was in the van. He was back in the van. And it was morning. The day before he died.  “Wh-what? Did- did you see that?” he asked. They had to know. It was the day they died- they should know like he knew. 
“See what?” asked the less friendly of the two guys in the back. 
“The- the screamin’ and the blood and- and the truck!” Nubbins said. “Y-you was there!” he said, to the purple shirt girl. 
“What’s he talkin’ about?” asked the driver. 
“I think he’s got heat stroke,” said the girl who died easier. 
“Oh! Well uh, I think we got some water ‘round here somewhere,” said the boy in the chair. 
“Would that even help with heat stroke?” asked the girl in purple. 
“I- I dunno but- would you like that? Would you like some water?” 
“I-” Nubbins paused. Something was wrong. Something had happened. “I… I gotta get home. I need to go home-” Nubbins reached for the car door and the guy sitting on the floor grabbed his arm. 
“Woah- man-” Nubbins open palm smacked him in the face loud enough the driver turned around, gently telling the stranger to let go of him. The van goers gasped, and floor guy flinched hard, like he was so weak that hurt him, and touched Nubbins’ blood where it ran down his face. 
“Hey!” the driver yelled. 
“I’m gettin’ out of the van!” Nubbins yelled, throwing open the door. Everyone started hollering something between ‘don’t do that’ and ‘Jerry, stop the van’, and ‘What the fuck is wrong with you’ as Nubbins hurled himself out of the moving vehicle, landing on the grass with only minor scrapes. The van slowed down as quick as it could, and they started to get out, the chair boy asking if he was okay as Nubbins rushed into the brush, determined to get back home as soon as possible. 
Bubba was okay. That was good. But he was no help in figuring out what the hell had happened to Nubbins. Nubbins explained it, again and again, and again, and Bubba tried really hard to help, but they were both just getting more frustrated. It had almost got to a screaming match when they heard a knock at the door. Nubbins and Bubba both looked at each other in shock. 
Nobody ever knocked on the door. There was some yelling, and Nubbins recognized the voice of floor guy. Then he heard him come in the house. Bubba started babbling, almost crying, and he tried to hide behind Nubbins. The guy kept getting closer, walking down the halls. Nubbins took the sledge from the table and slowly walked to the hall. 
“Hello?” called floor guy. Nubbins didn’t greet him, he just pulled the hammer back and smashed it into his skull- just like cattle- just like Grandpa taught him! Floor guy fell writhing to the ground in one good hit. Grandpa would be so proud- this was why Nubbins was his favorite! Then he heard the girl. 
“Bubba- drag- drag this guy back in. I’ll deal with her.” Nubbins crept into the living room, following after the girl. She stumbled into their living room and then started screaming and crying something awful, staring up at their couch. What a bitch! No one had ever been more mean about Nubbins’ art, and he lived with Cook. Nubbins bashed her head in quick too. He would play with her more- especially for being so mean about his art- but he kept thinking about how proud Grandpa would be that he killed her so well. “Is this- is this what happened last time?” Nubbins asked. Bubba shrugged. “Shut up!” Nubbins snapped, even though Bubba hadn’t said anything. He dragged the girl to the kitchen, and Bubba started slaughtering them, trying to stay out of Nubbins’ way much the way he did Cook’s. Bubba analyzed the girl’s face briefly, and then mumbled to Nubbins. “Y-you like that face?” Bubba shrugged. “There- there’s another girl who’ll show up soon. She got a better face, you’ll like her face better.” Bubba carried on, at that, packing the easier to kill girl into the icebox. Nubbins helped to package the meat off the floor guy as Bubba cut it, on instinct. Nubbins tried, really really hard, to think this through. 
He had this day once before. Then he died at the end of it. Then he was back in the van. Nubbins had never really heard of anything like that before- not even in stories or TV. But he had heard Cook bitching about wishing he had a second chance at life for as long as Nubbins could remember. So maybe that was what he meant. Nubbins got a second chance. He just had to do things right this time. 
The driver of the van came next, and Bubba got him pretty easy. Bubba started worrying, that more people might be coming, and talking about going out to check the property. Nubbins would normally think that was stupid- nobody would come foolin’ around on the Sawyer property. But he also knew Bubba told Cook he found the boy in the chair and the purple shirt girl in the woods near the house. So he agreed, and they went. Nubbins was worried they wouldn’t find them, but the pair made it easy. 
“Jerry!” called the girl. 
“Jerry!” repeated the boy. This was where it really counted. If they took the girl home for dinner, then the same thing would happen and Nubbins would waste his second chance. So, they had to change things up a little. 
“Okay Bubba- I- I know these two. There’s- there’s a guy in a chair, and he can’t get away easy, and there’s a girl with these long white pants, and she’s a real runner. She- she uh- she’s real mean and she could slip away from us and get us in trouble easy. So- so you kill her first! And then uh- then we take the boy home to feed Grandpa! Yeah!” Bubba nodded, and the pair of fools got closer. Bubba and Nubbins crept up, Nubbins deciding to go wide and flank them, and Bubba slinking up surprisingly quietly in front of them. Then he heard the saw roar and some sweet, sweet screams. 
“Sally! Sally no- Oh God- Oh no-” Nubbins ran out from the brush, then, behind the boy in the chair. “Oh God! No!” he yelped. “Wh- I didn’t mean to make you mad- I’m- I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I- I like your picture I-”
“Shut up!” Nubbins said. “You’re comin’ with us.” He tried to push the chair, but the guy turned the wheels off somehow- jamming down some little break. “Hey! Wh- don’t do that!” 
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere with you!” 
“Bubba, grab the chair-” Bubba started talking, pointing at the body of the girl- split right up the middle. “We gonna get her in a minute- she ain’t goin’ anywhere. J-just- help me c-carry him!” Bubba sighed, putting down the saw, and picking up one end of the chair. The two of them carried him off- like Grandpa- all while he complained. Nubbins got everything set up perfect, while Bubba went back for the body and the saw. This dinner was gonna be so perfect, even Cook wouldn’t be able to complain! 
It was about half an hour before Cook got home. When he did, the old man walked in and started searching around, suspicious-like. 
“Hey Cook! Cook! Lookit what we got!” Nubbins called. He came quickly, glaring and getting ready to fight, when he laid eyes on Franklin. 
“Oh my God- you’re the fella from the gas station- I- Please- they kidnapped me and-!” 
“Shut your mouth!” Cook snapped, then he went back to suspicion. “That’s uh…” Cook looked around, glaring this way and that, at Nubbins downstairs, at Grandpa already down for dinner. Bubba was hiding in the kitchen, expecting him to come home mad, but Nubbins had him this time. There was nothing to be mad about. “Did you stay home all day with your brother? Like I told you?” He was genuinely shocked. 
“Y-yeah! Jus’ like you t-told me-”
“Nuh-uh!” said Franklin. 
“Wh- Shut up!” Nubbins snapped at him. 
“He was out hitchhiking! He was out hitchhiking all day-”
“Wh- whu- fuck you!” 
“Did you lie to me?” Cook snapped, starting to puff up like an angry rooster. 
“No! Nuh uh! H-he’s just t-tryin’ to get me in tr-trouble!” 
“You deserve to be in trouble! ‘Cause you’re a liar- and a murderer and-”
“Shut your mouth!” Nubbins hissed. He had never had a victim so damn noisy! Cook stormed into the kitchen. Bubba flattened out, trying to look as small as possible. 
“You!” Cook snapped. Bubba flattened further and pointed at himself. “Was your brother here? Was he lookin’ after you all day? Or did he run off?” 
“Leatherface!” Nubbins said. “Tell him the tr-truth! Tell him I was here!” 
“Shut up, you!” Cook snapped. Bubba, stuck between a hard place and a rock, sold out Nubbins. 
“You’re a bitch, Leatherface!” Nubbins snapped. Cook hit him hard, but open handed, on the top of his head. The brooming in his first chance hurt more, and he took that as Cook being forced to admit at least a little that they did good. 
“Did you get all of ‘em?” Cook asked. 
“Yeah! We did- we got all of ‘em! And the one we saved for Grandpa- h-he can’t even get away!” Nubbins proclaimed, running over to Franklin’s chair and rocking it back and forth. 
“Well… I… Alright. Let’s… Let’s give Grandpa a whack.” 
Grandpa struggled just as much in this chance as he did Nubbins’ first chance. But, since Franklin couldn’t get away, he got more and more tries. He was greeted with a chorus of excitement with each swing, all his grandsons cheering him on as he tried again and again, slowly but surely bashing Franklin’s head in. Franklin screamed, and cussed at them occasionally, but though he was a lot bigger than Sally, he couldn’t do much more. Nubbins almost felt bad for him. Franklin seemed like an okay guy. If they were brothers, or cousins or something they would have been best friends, he could feel it. But Franklin was an outsider. So he had to die. One. “Harder Grandpa!” Two. “Get him! Get that bitch!” Three. “Kill him! Kill him!” Four. “C’mon Grandpa!” And on his fifth hit, there was a vicious crack, and Franklin went limp- the special kind of limp only the dead could go. The Sawyer brothers erupted in cheers, feeding Grandpa blood, and telling him again and again how he was the best. Grandpa seemed overwhelmed with the joy too, moving around in almost a little dance, and then finally, rising from his chair, actually standing up to bash Franklin in the head one more time. Nubbins was overjoyed, it was such a great way for his second chance to end! Then, suddenly as he rose, Grandpa fell. He collapsed directly forward, and all the brothers failed to catch him. 
“Grandpa?” asked Cook, shocked as the rest of them. “Oh God- Oh fuck! Boy- he- he- all that excitement mighta done gave Grandpa a heart attack-” Cook moved over quick as he could to try and lift him, to feel for his pulse. Nubbins didn’t know what to do- this wasn’t right- this wasn’t how his second chance should go! Maybe Grandpa wasn’t dead- maybe he would be okay- but- 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Then he paused. The van goers kept saying some shit he didn’t care about. Nubbins was back. Back in the van. I get a third chance? he thought. He never heard of third chances before. But he had one. So he was gonna get it right this time. Nubbins jumped out of the van again, this time without saying a word. 
He figured it out. The first two times, Franklin died. So, for a good chance, Franklin would have to live. Then nobody in Nubbins’ family had to die. So this time, he did everything mostly the same. Until it came to that moment in the woods. 
“Sally! Sally no- Oh God- Oh no-” Nubbins ran out from the brush, then, behind the boy in the chair. “Oh God! No!” he yelped. “Wh- I didn’t mean to make you mad- I’m- I’m so sorry- I didn’t mean to- I- I like your picture I-”
“Yeah?” Nubbins said. “Y-you like it?”
“Yeah- I- I really do.”
“Okay, you can go then.” 
“What?” Franklin asked. 
“You can go. I- I’m not mad at you no more.”
“Y-you murdered my sister because-”
“Oh- we uh- we killed them to eat,” Nubbins said. “F-for food! Now uh… go! G-get out of here before we eat you too!” Bubba did not like that- not at all. He knew Cook was gonna be red-hot mad about it. But Nubbins figured it was fine. His third chance was going to go well. 
And it did. Everything was perfect. Franklin wasn’t even there to snitch on Nubbins for hitchhiking, and Cook was pleasantly surprised. 
“You… You stayed with your brother? Like I asked?” 
“Y-yeah! All day. I- I went around outside a little during the day, but I stayed near the house,” Nubbins lied. 
“I…. It’s been a long damn day. You know? There’s been… There’s been reports, about some of the people we took, and cops and… They’re gettin’ closer. And I… I appreciate you stayin’ with Bubba. Makin’ sure everything’s alright around here… If they ever got to us I’d…” Cook looked far away. Nubbins knew he had a plan if the cops ever caught them for real, and he knew it involved everyone sitting at the dinner table facing the wall while Cook went and got the gun. The Sawyer family owned one old shotgun, which nobody but Grandpa ever ever got to touch, until Grandpa had gotten too old and handed control of the house and shotgun over to Cook. Cook was always real freaked out talking about the day he would have to use the gun, which Nubbins understood. Their whole lives Grandpa made a big big deal about never touching it, and if any of the boys so much as opened the cabinet it was in, they would get a real beating. Nubbins didn’t like being anywhere near it. But Nubbins was always kind of excited for the day Cook actually had to use it. He had only ever seen guns in movies, and heard from Bobby what it was like using guns in Vietnam. He hoped if Cook ever had to use the gun, that he would get to watch. “Eh- never mind all that. You know- if you stay in and watch Bubba like that- I’ll- I’ll make you boys some head cheese, and bring you some cokes from the gas station.” Bubba came around then, to greet Cook, realizing he was in a good mood that evening. “Hey there Bubba. Heard you spent the afternoon with your big brother. Was it good?” Bubba nodded, and Cook smiled a little, earnestly. Cook didn’t smile much. 
“Did anybody come by the house today? Or was it quiet?” he asked, taking off his old boots. 
“Oh uh- there- there was a whole bunch of t-teenagers. Who kept comin’ in the house. But uh- m-me and Bubba took care of it.” Then, Cook asked the same question he always did. 
“Did you get ‘em all?” And for some fucking reason, Bubba told him the truth.
“Leatherface! D-don’t-” But it was way too late. Cook grabbed the old thin three branch he kept by the door, his smile completely dead and his face getting red real quick. 
 “Y… You let one go?” he asked. “You- You let one fucking go!?” Cook rounded on Nubbins immediately, switch in hand, hitting him again and again and again, “Do you know what you’ve done!? Do you know what you’ve fucking done!? Everything is gone! Everything! Everything!” Cook yelled, his voice getting hoarse quick. “You dumb fucking idiot! You stupid-” Smack. “Useless!” Smack. “Idiot!” Smack. Cook had beaten Nubbins a lot in his lifetime but never like this- the man was putting his whole body into it. 
“I was doin’ what was best for us! ‘C-Cause of my chances!” Nubbins tried to explain. Everything was falling apart. This wasn’t what his chance was supposed to be- Cook wasn’t supposed to be so mad at him. Things were supposed to go better. 
“Doin’ what was best for us?! Boy- That fucking thing you let go is gonna bring a whole mess of cops down on us! A whole mess of cops and they’re gonna try and- and take you both away! They’re gonna wanna fucking hang us when they find out what we do!” Cook yelled. For a second Nubbins thought he might have a heart attack, like Grandpa did. “You know what I’m gonna have to do?” Cook asked, voice breaking. “You know what you’re gonna make me do?” Nubbins couldn’t understand why he was like this- why he was so mean all the time- why he never listened to him or cared about him more than what he had to to keep him alive. Nubbins was sick of it and angry and tired from all the chances and the dying and he could feel welts forming on his back from how hard Cook had beaten him. He just couldn’t take it anymore. Nubbins stormed into the dining room and he got the hammer. If he had waited just a second, he would have seen that Cook had dropped the switch. If he had waited just a second, he would have noticed that whatever was coming for them now had upset Cook so much he’d actually started to sob. If he had waited a second, maybe they could have gotten through all this. But Nubbins didn’t wait. He chucked that hammer full force at Cook’s head, and realized all those things after the off-white wall behind him was painted red. 
Cook stumbled. Dazed for just a second. Then he fell back. Onto the ground. There was blood. There was so, so much blood. Head wounds bleed a lot. Nubbins knew that from when he was the killer. But it was different when it was family. It was different when it was Drayton. Nubbins made his way over to him carefully. 
“Drayton?” Nubbins asked softly. Bubba stood a few feet from them, too scared to move. Drayton wasn’t getting up. He was blinking real slow. “D-Drayton? Are you okay? I- I didn’t mean to hit you th-that hard,” he said. His older brother looked up at him. His unfocused eyes locked in on Nubbins as best as they could. 
“I… I hate you,” Drayton said, as firmly as he could with his shaky voice. Blood ran freely down his head, dribbling onto his face, darkening all the hair he had. “I… I always knew… From the first time I held you… That you boys would be the death of me… But I… Never woulda thought…” Drayton went still. Limp in a way that just wasn’t right- in a way a living person just couldn’t be. Nubbins was silent. Everything was silent. 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Nubbins didn’t wanna do this. He didn’t want to play this game anymore. He was sick of chances- he was sick of all this. He was tired, and sick, and now he knew his brother hated him. Even if these chances ended, how was he supposed to deal with that? He crumpled in on himself and took the picture with him, stuffing it promptly in his little bag. 
“Are you alright?” asked the girl who died easier. 
“You look like you seen a ghost,” Franklin said. Nubbins sort of had. He was seeing ghosts all day. But he didn’t care to explain it to these people. He just wanted his big brother. Drayton was mean, and vicious, and hurt him a lot, but he didn’t know any other kind of care, any other kind of love. Nobody else had ever taken care of him. Drayton was all he had. He had to fix this. He had to make this right. 
“I… I… C-can you take me to the gas station?” 
“To the gas station?” asked the floor guy. 
“M-my brother w-works there- he… He works there- at the gas station by uh- on- on the way. It’s- it’s the way you’re goin’, and it’s- it’s the only gas station before Childress- I just-”
“We do need some gas,” said the driver. 
“You think you might could get us a discount?” asked the dead girl. “Since your brother works there and all.” 
“N-no. If I asked he’d really probably charge you more,” Nubbins said, truthfully. A lot of them sort of laughed, and Nubbins felt like he had been flicked on the end of his nose. He didn’t know what was funny to them. If they were laughing with him or at him. He glared at the people in the van, and wanted to hit them or cut them or start throwing some of their stuff. But he needed a ride, so Nubbins would do his best to be good. Or at least good enough to not get kicked out of the van. 
“Yeah, we’ll head that way and drop you off there, shouldn’t be any problem,” the driver said. There was a lull in conversation, and Nubbins was happy with that. Franklin, though, not so much. 
“So uh… Were you just out photographing the slaughter house?” Franklin asked. “Or uh- do you- do you photograph a lot of different things?” Nubbins looked up at him. This was all his fault, somehow. Nubbins didn’t understand why he would do all this. He looked nice. He had thick curly hair, and a nice pair of round lips, and big eyebrows, like a pair of wooly worms on his face. He had a good face. And he was real nice to Nubbins, talking to him and showing him his knife and things like that. And yet Franklin had done this to him- sticking him with these chances. And that wasn’t nice. Nubbins was going to pout and give him the silent treatment for being so mean, but he didn’t like being silent normally, and now the silence was giving room in his brain for pictures of the chances- again and again. He couldn’t deal with that. 
“I uh… I take lots of pictures.” He tried to remember which pictures he could talk about with strangers, and which he could only talk about with family, but Drayton never really made that line clear, because he mostly just said to never talk to strangers. “I uh- I take pictures of my brothers! And uh- I- I take pictures of people I meet. On the road. Oh- And -and of roadkill!” 
“Roadkill?” asked the dead girl. “Why would you wanna take pictures of that?”
“Well uh… Whenever I take pictures of living animals, they don’t turn out so good. Th-they run around and mess it up. Roadkill don’t do that so much.” The driver laughed at that, and then the others, and Nubbins shifted. 
“I guess so, man,” said floor guy. 
“Oh uh! We never really got introduced, uh, I’m Franklin,” Franklin said. “This is Sally, my sister.” That was why those two always came in a pair. They were family. 
“I’m Kirk,” said floor guy. 
“Pam,” said the dead girl. 
“Jerry.” Nubbins actually kind of knew that one, he just didn’t care enough about Jerry to think of calling him that. 
“What’s your name?” Franklin asked. 
“Oh uh… I’m- I’m…” Drayton always told them never ever to tell the victims their real names. Just in case. And Nubbins knew all too well how mad he’d get if he thought the cops were going to come to their house. The welts were gone, and it didn’t hurt, but Nubbins remembered it like it did. “I’m Paul,” he decided. He had been called that a lot as a kid, and the very few times Drayton introduced him to someone outside the family he called him that. That was his name on a lot of papers Drayton filled out too. So, since Nubbins was his real name, he figured that was some kind of alias Drayton had made up for him. Drayton did a lot of things like that. To take care of him. Which made it harder to accept that Drayton hated him. Nubbins didn’t want to accept that Drayton hated him. He got really mad at Drayton sometimes- hated him a little sometimes when he beat Bubba or Chop- but that was different. 
Drayton had used his dying breath to tell Nubbins he hated him. 
Nubbins couldn’t express why, but that was wrong. They were family, and even when they hated each other they loved each other and if Nubbins’ own family didn’t want him, who ever would? Nubbins curled in on himself, and started to fidget, bouncing around nervously and fiddling with his hands, flapping them occasionally, trying to get the sad off him. 
“You alright?” Franklin asked. Like he wasn’t the cause of it all. Nubbins would try and explain the chances to him- but it was all so much, and if he couldn’t even explain it to Bubba and Drayton, he’d never explain it to outsiders. 
“You wouldn’t get it.”
“Why not?” Franklin asked. 
“Well m-maybe you would- you got a sister… But… The rest of you- I- I dunno where you come from or if-”
“I got a little brother,” said Kirk. 
“I’m the middle of three girls,” Pam said. 
“Only child,” Jerry said. “But uh- I think I could still understand it.” Nubbins paused. If he said the wrong thing the cops might show up. And if that happened, he knew something awful would happen to his family. But, every time that had happened so far, he got another chance. Nubbins needed to change something to break this loop- he could feel it. So, he tried something new. 
“I uh… I had a r-real bad fight with my brother… And uh… I.. I don’t think he wants me around no more. Maybe he never did,” Nubbins admitted. 
“The brother you’re goin’ to see at the gas station?” Pam asked. 
“Maybe you shouldn’t tell him you’re with us. Don’t want him chargin’ us more,” Kirk said like he thought he was funny. Nubbins didn’t like this Kirk guy, he decided then. 
“Y-yeah, that brother. He’s… He’s my older brother, b-by a lot. And he had to take care of me, and- and our littler brother and… I think… I think maybe he don’t like me because of that. We had a real bad fight and…” 
“I mean, me and Franklin fight all the time,” Sally said. “And I still like him.”
“He’ll be mad, sure, but he’ll get over it. He has to. He’s your brother.” Nubbins almost smiled. His real situation wasn’t nearly as simple as what he had told them, but maybe it would be alright. Maybe Drayton wouldn’t be mad at him. 
Drayton was mad at him. That kind of made sense. He was supposed to be home watching Bubba. Nubbins and the van crew drove up to the gas station, and Nubbins waved at Drayton from the back seat and Drayton glared daggers into him. As soon as the van was all the way stopped, he yanked open the door. 
“Boy- what are you doing-” Nubbins scampered out, hoping that because they were in front of others Drayton wouldn’t hit him. 
“I- I wanted to t-talk to you.” 
“You’re supposed to be home watchin’ Bubba-”
“I needed t-to talk to you now-” Nubbins said. 
“Boy- I-” Drayton looked at the people in the van, all of whom were staring back at him. Drayton turned to his employee. “You help these folks, we’ll be back,” Drayton said, pulling Nubbins by the arm into the store. He closed the door behind him, then turned to Nubbins sharply, temperamental. “What the fuck is it, boy?” 
“Do you… Do you hate me?” Nubbins asked. 
“Wh- what?” Suddenly Drayton didn’t look so mad anymore. 
“Do you hate me?” Nubbins repeated. 
“What… Why..? You left your brother and came all this way to ask-” 
“W-would your life be b-better without me? Do you… Do you want me around?” 
“Nubbins, what has gotten into you? Who said-”
“Nobody! I-I just-”
“Why would you think that I hate you, then?”
“Wh- ‘Cause you said so!” Nubbins snapped. Drayton paused, looking away for a second, almost scared.
Almost guilty. 
“When?” 
“When I killed you!” Nubbins said. He was really starting to get worked up- overwhelmed with emotion, remembering all too vividly looking down at Drayton’s broken body and knowing that’s all it was- knowing he wasn’t there anymore.  “When I- I hit you with the sledge- I-I hit you ‘cause we were fightin’ and-”
“You came out here to bother me ‘cause you had a bad dream?” Drayton asked. It was a rare occasion, in which he was more confused than he was frustrated. 
“N-no! It’s not- It wasn’t a bad dream- it- it was real-” Drayton swallowed heavily. 
“Oh… Oh shit.” There was a pause. “Nubbins… I…” 
“I’m not m-makin’ it up! It was real- and it wasn’t no dream either-”
“I know. You’re not… You’re not the first one in our family to have a problem like this.” For once Nubbins couldn’t think of anything to say. He was excited, and relieved, and for once actually glad he came to his older brother with a problem. Drayton knew what was going on! He could help! “Momma… You never really got to know her, but Momma had… visions too. She would see things or remember things that to her were completely real but to everyone else-” Of course. Of course Drayton didn’t really believe him. 
“This is real! I’m not- you don’t-”
“I- I know it feels like it-”
“You don’t know nothin’!” Nubbins snapped. He shook his whole body, hard. He wanted to scream or smack Drayton on the head or run out into the road and start biting customers. But he couldn’t do any of that- he was stuck, maybe forever. Maybe he really just died the first time and this was- was some kind of punishment. Nubbins didn’t understand purgatory completely, but he had heard about it, and this sort of felt like that. But he didn’t know what to do about purgatory- if this was that- or what this was- or nothing. Nubbins didn’t know, and no one could help him, and no one would believe him. He felt a prickle in the end of his nose, and then his eyes started to well up with tears, and he got even madder- embarrassed to cry, and embarrassed even more to cry in front of Drayton, who immediately sort of cringed. 
“Oh- oh- uh-” Drayton began. “N-now, don’t you cry, none-” he said, holding up his hands like he was approaching a wild animal. “Nubbins, oh… Nubbins… I…” Nubbins was really crying, and flapping and trying to not feel so fucking awful. Drayton wrapped his arms around him, in an awkward, stilted way. “I… I forgive you.”
“W-what?” Nubbins asked, snapped back into the moment. 
“I forgive you for killin’ me,” Drayton said. “It’s okay. Just uh- don’t do it again.” Nubbins nestled tighter against his brother, holding onto him like he was going somewhere, burying his face in his chest, despite having to curl up to do it. Drayton chuckled kind of nervously and wiggled a bit, but didn’t make Nubbins let go just yet. “And uh… I-I don’t hate you. I shouldn’t have said that.You… You know how people get when they’re dyin’. I mean- heh- re-remember that fella with the face scar who converted to what- five different religions all during one dinner with us?” Drayton asked. Nubbins laughed a little- he remembered that guy well.  He was scared to death of little ol’ Bubba, completely convinced he was in some kind of hell. 
“Y-yeah.” There was a mostly comfortable pause. “Why… Why do people say things like that?” Nubbins asked. Then- “Why do you say things like that?” Drayton cleared his throat, and opened his mouth like he was going to talk, then closed it, then opened it again. 
“I… I just..” Nubbins was emboldened by the chances- emboldened by the knowledge that there was a safety net, and by the fear that this wouldn’t be the last chance he endured. That maybe Drayton would forget all this come next time. 
“You’re… you get real mean when I mess up. More than with Bubba sometimes, and more and more now that Bobby’s gone. W-why? Do you like me less than them?” 
“No- I- Nubbins… I just… I get..” Drayton paused, and looked down at Nubbins as he burrowed into his shirt. “I get scared.” 
“Scared?”
“I get scared that somethin’ bad is gonna happen to you… When you’re with Bobby, I know you two can take care of each other… and Bubba’s always in the house. But you go out wanderin’ around, jumpin’ in strange folks’ cars. I get… It’s fuckin’ stupid, pansy shit, but I get scared for you. Scared somethin’s gonna happen to you and I won’t be able to do nothin’ about it.” Nubbins asked one more thing, one more thing he felt he couldn’t. 
“Do you… Do I make your life worse?” Nubbins asked. “Do you wish I was gone?” “Nubbins… You’re a pain in my ass more often than you’re not but… I mean, you’re my little brother, that’s kind of your job, ain’t it?” Drayton said, pulling back, getting back out of the hug a bit more, and patting Nubbins on the shoulders. Nubbins smiled a little and nodded. “So… Don’t you worry about me not wantin’ you around. You ain’t gonna get rid of me that easy. You’re… You’re a weird boy, but you’re my boy. And I… I… I care about you,” Drayton settled on.  Nubbins balled his fists in Drayton’s shirt and pulled him back to him, bumping his head to Drayton’s chest.
When he was little and he had nightmares he went to Drayton. Even though his big brother was so often the cause of them. He would make his way silently, on unsteady little feet to his brother’s room, and clamber into his bed as best he could, and when Drayton woke up to ask him what was wrong- usually not kindly- he would writhe his way into Drayton’s shirt and lay against his chest. Maybe it was odd, but right there it was dark and warm and no one could see him, and no one could hurt him. He liked that feeling, though he didn’t get it a lot. He liked feeling safe. Drayton stopped letting him do that when he was about six or so, because Nubbins kept biting him when he got anxious. He wished in that moment that he was small again so he could go back there. So he could feel safe, for just a little while. Drayton started fidgeting, and Nubbins had half a mind to hold on tighter, maybe even to bite or cut him. 
“Alright, boy, that’s enough- got work to do-” Drayton said firmly, grasping Nubbins by his shoulders and pulling him away. 
“B-but-”
“No! None of that. Besides- you need to go and watch after Bubba.” 
Oh. Right. 
Nubbins rushed home. He didn’t really give that much of a shit about his responsibility to watch Bubba- Bubba was grown and he could watch himself pretty much fine. He set the house on fire trying to cook Grandpa a birthday cake one time and Drayton just never let him live it down. Nubbins didn’t hold it against him. Everybody set the house on fire a little sometimes. But this time, Nubbins absolutely needed to be there. Because this was a good one, and he needed to make sure it went right. Nubbins went over the other chances again. 
First chance: Franklin died, Sally escaped, and Nubbins died. 
Second chance: Sally died, Franklin died, Grandpa died. 
Third chance: Sally died, Franklin escaped, Drayton died. 
So Franklin couldn’t die. But he also couldn’t escape. 
Nubbins devised another plan. Hopefully a good one. Franklin and Sally would come looking for Jerry, who came looking for Pam and Kirk. But if Nubbins and Bubba could chase Pam and Kirk off the property without killing them, then Jerry would never come so Sally and Franklin would never come either. If they didn’t hurt Pam and Kirk, they wouldn’t have anything to tell the cops, so nobody would come, and the Sawyer family’s lives would all go on unaffected. Franklin wouldn’t be dead, but he wouldn’t escape either. It was fool proof. Or at least Nubbins thought so until he tried to explain it to Bubba. 
Bubba did not like Nubbins’ idea. In part, because it would mean Bubba would have to deal with the wanna-be home invaders on his own. They knew what Nubbins looked like, and while they only knew him as Paul, the less risks he took the better. This chance had to go absolutely perfect. But Bubba couldn’t understand why they didn’t just kill the strangers- they needed more meat anyways. 
“Look- Bubba- You just- you-” Nubbins paused. He had half a mind to hit Bubba on the head and make him do what he said. Nubbins was his older brother, after all, and he and Bobby could always get Bubba to do things. Not as easily as Drayton could, sure, but he could still usually bend Bubba’s will to get his way- especially if he threatened him with a smack. But Nubbins still felt imprints of welts that weren’t there, and the thought of making Bubba hurt  or feel as lousy and dirty he felt then made bile rise up Nubbins’ throat, which burned and melted the threats he considered making right off his tongue. “Bubba, p-please? I- I really need you to d-do this for me. It-it won’t be so hard! And- when you do this real well, maybe Cook will realize you can do stuff on your own again! Maybe when he gets back, y-you an’ me an’ Bobby can go into town again!” Bubba seemed to consider that, playing nervously with his bracelet. “Oh! And- I- I can’t be seen by those strangers- but, I could come and watch you- m-make sure nothin’ bad happens.” 
You promise? Bubba asked. Not in those words, exact, but Nubbins understood. 
“O-oh- of course!” Nubbins said. “I won’t let nothin’ bad happen. That’s what older brothers are for.” 
Pam and Kirk arrived right on time. But, this time, the front door was locked, so Kirk couldn’t wander in like an idiot. Nubbins and Bubba hid outside, in wait. For a second it seemed like Pam and Kirk might just leave. Then Kirk started to fuck around with one of Nubbins’ bone chimes, as the pair sat on the porch. Nubbins and Bubba were close, chainsaw with them, and Bubba had one hand on the starter cord handle, ready to yank it to life. But Nubbins paused, holding out a little hope that the two would just leave and give him an easy ending to his good chance. 
“I really woulda thought- with the generator runnin’ like that, that somebody would be home,” Pam said. 
“Yeah… Maybe we could siphon some gas from it. Get the hell out of this shitty little town.” Nubbins wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. 
“Oh, Kirk. The gas station’ll get some in a few hours, I’m sure.”
“Oh yeah, then we can go talk to that old weirdo again. You know- I don’t even think he’s out of gas. I think he just wants to murder us and wear our skin… Or make us buy a shitty keychain or something.” Pam laughed. Neither of them made any move to get off their damn porch. 
“He’s not that bad. Neither was Paul, really. Just a bit weird.” 
“Paul? Who’s that?”
“You know- the hitchhiker we picked up.”
“Oh, right, Franklin’s new boyfriend.” 
“Oh, stop it,” Pam said, still laughing. They were laughing. Laughing at him, laughing at his family. They had probably been laughing at him in the car too. If he could slaughter them both, he happily would. But he needed to finish this day without incident so he could be free of the chances and move on. 
“C’mon Bubba,” Nubbins said. “Let’s scare the sh-shit out of ‘em.” The two brothers snuck ever so slightly closer, till they were only a few feet away, hidden by only tree cover. Then Bubba cranked the chainsaw. He ran out at the two. Pam ran like a reasonable person, towards the sunflowers- away from the house. But Kirk just jolted back, breaking Nubbins’ bone chime entirely, and grasping a piece of it. He ran to the door of their house, trying again to break in, and Bubba charged at him, chainsaw over his head, shaking it at Kirk, but certainly not about to kill him with it. Which was why Nubbins didn’t see it coming. Bubba was trying to get Kirk to go past him, but Kirk just wouldn’t. He was yelling something, clutching the broken rib bone he’d stolen tight, but Nubbins couldn’t hear what he was saying. Kirk moved suddenly, and erratically, darting under Bubba’s chainsaw right as he swung it for show, and Bubba slashed him with it accidentally. Kirk screamed, of course, and it made a mess, but Nubbins was sure that Kirk would be fine. 
Kirk didn’t seem to know that. 
He turned, boneshard tight in hand. Nubbins ran out then, knowing something bad was about to happen. But he couldn’t do anything to stop it. Kirk lashed out, hitting Bubba in the neck. Bubba wailed, and dropped the saw, and Kirk sprinted away. Nubbins thought about snagging and killing him before he could escape, but he had to take care of Bubba first. It was his job to take care of Bubba. 
“Y-you’re okay-” he began, sitting down with his brother. And Bubba looked okay. The saw had missed him entirely, he was just hunched over, and clutching where he had been hit in the neck. A good hit to the neck could really hurt- Nubbins and Bobby had learned that the hard way while wrestling with each other. It could bruise real bad too. But it wasn’t too bad of an injury. Nubbins was sure Bubba would be fine. 
Until he looked up. 
Nubbins had never felt sick at the sight of blood before, but then he thought he was gonna spew his lunch. Kirk had stabbed the bone shard in Bubba’s neck. Blood was running down, freely, between his fingers. Bubba was panicking, squeaking and near sobbing and holding his injury as tight as he could. This didn’t have to be it. Nubbins could do something- this was bad, but it wasn’t that bad. They could stitch it up. They could save this. Nubbins could save this. 
He dragged Bubba inside, telling him to keep his hands on it. He cleared off the table in the kitchen, and had Bubba lay down on it. 
“I-it’s gonna b-be okay, B-bubba,” Nubbins promised. “This is- it- it’s just gonna be a scar and a funny st-story one day, okay?” Bubba nodded. Nubbins ran around the house, getting together what he needed. They had fishing line, a needle, and super glue that Drayton usually used to patch the boys up in an emergency. Nubbins just had to find it. He raided every cabinet in the kitchen first, going through every drawer while Bubba whimpered and squeaked. Nubbins found the super glue. But that wasn’t enough. They would need to stitch the wound first, at least Nubbins was pretty sure they would. “I- I’m gonna be right back-” Bubba squealed- “I’m goin’ to C-cook’s room- I’m gonna get the th-thr-thr-th-” He couldn’t get out the word thread- “ the stuff! The stuff to take care of you!” Nubbins ran upstairs, and into Drayton’s room. Drayton would be mad about this, sure, but Nubbins was confident he would understand. There wasn’t much in Drayton’s room. It was one of the cleanest rooms in the house. 
He had his bed, which was made, though his pillow was on the floor, and a little nightstand with a lamp on it that Nubbins had decorated with bone pieces for him. Nubbins started there, opening the drawer of the nightstand. The drawer wasn’t so clean- Drayton must have just chucked everything in there. There were keys to some of the victim’s cars that Drayton had been working on, and  a whole mess of bills, and some of Bubba’s old drawings, and the old bone bracelet Nubbins made for him that he said he had thrown out, and a box of shotgun shells, and Bobby’s draft letter, and a bunch of bottle caps and teeth for some reason. 
Nubbins turned to the only other furniture in the room- his dresser. There were three drawers.What if I can’t find it in time? Nubbins had to shove that thought down. He could do this- Bubba was tough- they were going to be alright.  Nubbins started with the bottom one and found mostly Drayton’s clothes.He heard Bubba cry out downstairs- a sudden, sharp noise. 
“I- I’m comin’, Bubba!” he yelled.  In a panicked hurry, he stopped caring if Drayton knew he went through his stuff. He could cover that up later, or Drayton could find out- none of that mattered as much as helping Bubba. He chucked Drayton’s clothes onto the floor, finding in the drawer one spool of thread, which while not as good as fishing line, Nubbins shoved it into his pocket anyways, just in case. He kept digging through the drawer, up turning the whole thing, and finding not much more of note other than a weird magazine called Blueboy with a shirtless man on it. 
Nubbins leapt up, yanking on the second drawer, but it just wouldn’t open. He pulled again, nearly toppling the whole thing, and snapping off one of the nobs. He chucked the nob across the room and flailed for a second, before continuing, yanking the top drawer open. It was messy too- but Nubbins eyes landed immediately on the old, metal, white lunchbox Drayton stored their medical supplies in. Nubbins yanked it and ran downstairs, quite possibly knocking over the whole dresser in the process. 
“Bubba! It’s- it’s gonna be okay-” Nubbins rounded the corner to the kitchen, holding the medical supplies tight. 
Bubba was sitting up. He had something in his hand. Something bloody, and pale. The bone shard. He took out the fucking bone shard! Bubba’s hands were soaked in blood, his clothes were soaked in blood- everything. He was bleeding out ten times as fast with the shard out. 
“Wh-what the fuck is wrong with you!?” Nubbins snapped. Bubba started babbling- trying to explain. “You leave it in! You’re supposed to leave it in you- you idiot!”Bubba started apologizing and  Nubbins stopped listening. He yanked open the lunchbox, finding the fishing line and needle, and threaded it as quickly as his shaky, panicked hands allowed him to, trying to focus, prinking his fingertips a few times. Then, once it was threaded, he turned to Bubba. Bubba was two shades too pale and rushing for a third. Nubbins moved to his side. “O-okay- you’re gonna take your hand off and-” Bubba did what he said right then and put his hand down, and with no pressure on the wound there was a waterfall of blood. Bubba fell back and Nubbins caught his head, stopping it from hitting the table. Bubba laid on his back, and Nubbins loomed over him, trying to move his shirt and mask and hair out of the way, so he could get a look at the wound. It was so wet it was hard to tell where the slash actually was, and everytime Nubbins cleared off enough blood to see, more poured out. He eventually just had to make an uncertain stab, maybe starting further back than he should have, but definitely closing the wound. Bubba didn’t even make a noise when Nubbins started working, and Nubbins felt sick. His hands shook more and it didn’t help. Nubbins could have cried when Bubba started trying to speak. 
“N-Nuh-Nuhbuhn-” Nubbins. He was trying to say his name. 
“It-it’s okay Bubba. It’s gonna be okay- I’m gonna take care of you. I won’t let nothin’ happen to you- I-I promise-” 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Then he lost his shit. He threw the picture and then his camera, and then started to flail around in the van and yell. 
“It-s it’s uh- I’m sorry- I’m sorry- it’s not that bad-” Franklin began. 
“I’m sick! I’m sick! I’m sick of this! I’m done! N-no more- no more- no more!” Nubbins yelled. 
“What the hell is going on back there?” Jerry asked. 
“Are you okay? What’s- what are you sick of?” Kirk asked. 
“Don’t talk to me! You- You murderer! I- I try to be nice to you- and you make fun of me and Cook and you kill my little brother-”
“Hey, man, settle down-” Jerry tried. 
“I- I think you got the wrong guy,” Pam began. 
“I don’t! Y-you haven’t done it yet this time, but you did it in my last chance! I- I shoulda killed you!” 
“Woah! Relax!” Kirk said. 
“Do I need to pull over?”
“What do you mean, ‘chances’?” Sally asked. 
“The chances! I’ve- I’ve been having today for- for five days now! Maybe more. And every time it’s the same- you idiots die and then get somebody in my family killed with you!” There was a pause. 
“Is there a psych ward near here?” Kirk asked, trying to be quiet. 
“Could you- could you explain your chances from the top?” Pam asked. Nubbins paused. He didn’t have much to lose, and if he did fuck this up, he could kill all of them and go at it again. 
“I…. I… I keep getting second chances. The first time, I was goin’ through life as usual, and then I got hit on the road and killed. Then I got another ch-chance, startin’ today, here, in the van. It all starts when I say ‘it’s a nice picture’. Each go around starts there. Then I can change stuff throughout the day, but not how it ends up.”
“How does it end up?”
“Somethin’ terrible happens to my family,” Nubbins said. 
“So what’s the part about us all ending up dead too?” Kirk asked. Nubbins paused. If they knew his family was going to murder them all, they probably wouldn’t help. He didn’t have much reason to suspect they could help him, but he was running low on options. So Nubbins decided to stretch the truth a little. 
“You all die. Or most of you do. There’s… there’s a serial killer out here.  Who kills you all, one by one, and then at the end, kills someone in my family. Except last time- wh-when you got my little brother killed!” Nubbins hissed at Kirk. 
“That’s… that sure is somethin’,” Sally said, like Nubbins was stupid. He was getting real sick of these people. 
“Could you… Could you tell us something you couldn’t know?” Pam asked. 
“What?”
“I wanna believe you, but it’s all.. A lot. You could tell us something you know from your chances that you couldn’t know now?”
“Oh… Uh… Your names is Jerry, Pam, Kirk, Sally, and Franklin. Sally and Franklin are brother and sister… Your van is almost out of gas, and you were gonna go visit the ol’ Franklin house that’s ‘round here…. I… I don’t know what else to say, to convince you-” Nubbins looked up at them. All of them except Jerry were staring at each other, looking back and forth. It was Pam who spoke up first. 
“Jerry, how’s the gas?” Pam asked.
“We uh… We are runnin’ low. 
“I think that’ll do it,” Pam said. “So… You’re stuck in a time loop.” 
“A… Time loop?” 
“I think there’s a gas leak in this van,” Kirk said. 
“Kirk- just listen to me on this-”
“Astrology is one thing-”
“How else would this random hitchhiker know so much about us?”
“He knows our names, knows you two are siblings, and he guessed we’re almost out of gas.” 
“And he knows where we’re going,” Sally said. 
“Okay- fine, but maybe you said your last name and he figured that was your grandpa and-”
“I don’t think any of us even told him our first names,” Franklin said. “And our last name is Hardesty. But this Grandpa was on our Momma’s side. His last name was Enright.” There was a pause. 
“This is a lot-”
“I-I mean, you could tell me somethin’ I really couldn’t know, and I could kill us all, and we could try again next time-” 
“Or we could just go with the time loop,” Jerry said. “Save everybody the trouble.” Kirk backed down then. 
“Alright, so, I’ve heard of time loops before, but never really dealt with one. In a lot of stories, time loops are either evil, or kind of benevolent- to punish someone forever or to give you enough chances for you to get it right.” 
“So is my loop evil or- or not evil?” 
“Well that’s the thing. Real time loops aren’t good or evil. They’re personal. Much more likely to occur with malefic planets in retrograde- like Saturn right now- but they’re not necessarily malevolent just because of that connection.”
“Uh… Okay?” That meant approximately nothing to Nubbins, who barely knew Saturn existed at all, much less that it could retrograde or malefic. 
“What have you figured out about your loop? Anything?” 
“Well uhm… I… I think… I’ve noticed that uh… Well, if something bad happens to Franklin, or if he isn’t involved at all- then someone in my family dies real sudden and usually real bad, and the loop starts over.”
“Wh- me?” Franklin asked. “Y-You think I’m tied to all this mumbo jumbo-”
“W- well yeah. It all goes okay until he dies. Or if I try to keep him out of it. If either of those things happens, then someone in my family dies. The- the moment someone in my family dies, it all starts again.” There was a pause. 
“What’s your star sign?” Pam asked. 
“I- I uh… I don’t think I got one.”
“Everybody’s got one,” Franklin argued. 
“I uh- I wasn’t born in a hospital- so maybe- uh-” 
“What day were you born?” Pam asked. Nubbins paused for a second. 
“Wednesday?”
“What day and month?” 
“Wednesday March.” 
“March what?” 
“March the… The 2nd? Or 3rd maybe.” The van group seemed to contemplate that information. 
“You are not a Pisces! There’s no way-” Pam began. 
“Well uh, he is an artist,” Franklin said. 
“And kinda moody,” Jerry added. 
“Emotional,” Sally tacked on. 
“What’s a Pisces?” Nubbins asked. 
“That’s your star sign,” Franklin said. “I’m a Taurus, and Sally’s a Capricorn, Jerry’s a Virgo, Pam’s a Sagittarius, and Kirk is a Leo.” 
“Oh.. W-woah!” Nubbins was going to have to look into this planet stuff after the time loop was over. “C-could you do my twin brother Bobby? I- I know his birthday.” 
“He’s… He’s also a Pisces. You have the same birthday,” Sally said slowly. 
“Oh. Wow!” 
“So… If our hitchhiker is a Pisces and Franklin is a Taurus…” Pam began. 
“Then they’re romantically compatible, great,” Kirk said with a sign. 
“Kirk! Just listen for one second!” Pam said. “This is important.” 
“Okay- okay-” 
“Saturn is in retrograde. Neither of your signs are ruled by Saturn, but your signs make you very compatible… In your first ‘chance’, did you and Franklin make any kind of.. Pact? Like- you promising to come back for him, or promising to see each other again in another life or something? I mean- this one would be kinda weird- but you could have had a blood pact, maybe.” 
“How is that weirder than promising a guy you just met that you’ll ‘meet in another life’?” Kirk asked. 
“Well uh- with blood pacts, you would both have to, well, drink each other's blood, in some way. Or at least get some of it in your mouths.” Nubbins grinned at that, uncontrollably. He and Franklin had swapped blood- for sure. Nubbins left his blood on Franklin’s knife, and Franklin left his on Nubbins’. And Nubbins had licked Franklin’s blood off his knife, when their van had disappeared on the horizon after they kicked him out. Just to try him. To taste him. But Nubbins never would have guessed Franklin had done the same. It made Nubbins feel a lot of things- excited and jittery and most of all special. He knew he and Franklin would have got along good if they could have- he liked Franklin when he first met him, before all the chances. And now that he knew for sure Franklin hadn’t done all this on purpose, he felt okay liking him again. 
“What’s funny?” Kirk asked. 
“N-nothin’. And uh- I think- I think we had a blood pact.”
“From… From when you cut yourself with my knife?” Franklin asked. 
“Y-yeah! And uh- from- from later too.” 
“Hm… Alright…” Pam started looking through her book. 
“There’s no damn way you’ve got information about time loops in that little book,” Jerry said, looking back, trying to get a peek. 
“Pam, what does this all mean?” Franklin asked. “What do we do? Are we stuck like this forever?” Pam closed her little book. 
“Alright. So. Franklin, you and uh-” Pam looked at him. 
“Uh- Nubbins.” 
“Nubbins?” Sally asked. “What kind of name is that?” 
“Wh- M-my name!” Nubbins snapped. 
“Alright, alright!” Pam snapped. “Look- Franklin, you and Nubbins are, well, star-crossed. Bound together by fate, but in a really bad way. As far as I can tell, in order for you to break this loop, you two need to make it to the end of today alive, but also together. Whenever it becomes impossible for that to happen, the time loop is reset through the death of someone you care about. I think… I think if we stick together, we can avoid the serial killer and all stay alive,” Pam said. Nubbins looked at the kids in the van, and thought real hard about it for a minute. The only one he really liked any was Franklin. Pam wasn’t so bad, but he wanted Kirk dead, and his family could really use some meat, so Sally and Jerry would have to go too. Maybe Pam too. He didn’t mind losing Pam. He knew if they stuck all together, the four he wanted to die would find some way to stay alive. And that just wouldn’t do. Nubbins was doing this his way. 
“Franklin,” Nubbins began. The other man turned towards him, smiling. He was real cute. Nubbins was glad he got to keep him. “Sorry about this. I-I promise I’ll be real good to you next time!” Nubbins yanked his knife free from his boot and lunged at the other man, cutting his throat three or four times before Kirk could get him off of him. Everyone in the van was screaming. Nubbins wondered which of his family members would die this round. And got his answer quick when Jerry leaned over trying to see what was going on and swerved the van in front of an oncoming semi. 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. “But uh- You- you a real nice guy, so you can have it for free.” Franklin’s eyes lit up just a little as Nubbins handed him the photo. 
“Oh uh- thank you!” 
Nubbins had a plan. 
This time he was getting it right. It would be easier to control what was going on with Franklin if he stayed with him. So he would find a way to stay in the van. Say or do literally whatever he had to in order to stay with them. Then, he would make sure the others died off as planned, but keep Franklin away from the house until he was confident it was safe enough. Then he would go home, convince Drayton to let him keep Franklin, and escape the time loop forever! 
Simple enough. 
The first step was being charming enough to get the people in the van to let him come with them. Which he was entirely confident he could do. He already knew nobody but Franklin would like the meat talk. But they all seemed to like art. 
“So uh- Y-you like art?” Nubbins asked. 
“Uh.. yeah?” Kirk said. 
“Oh! Pam’s an artist,” Sally added. 
“M-me too!” Nubbins said. “I- I used to be the killer- at the slaughterhouse- but uh- after the layoffs- I- I started doing art.” 
“Oh- that’s cool,” Pam said. “Are you a painter or…?” They might not like what I actually do. 
“I do sculptures,” Nubbins said. “Oh- And I take pictures!” 
“Oh yeah, what of?” Jerry asked. 
“Jus’ uh- stuff around here. Like the slaughterhouse, and old cars, and my family. Oh- and uh- roadkill.”
“Roadkill?” Pam asked, crinkling her nose. 
“Y-yeah- I tried to get pictures of livin’ animals, but they run away too fast. Don’t have that problem with roadkill.” Jerry laughed first, again, and then the others. It was nice to be able to be funny on purpose this time. 
“So uh- where were you goin’, man?” Jerry asked. 
“Well uh… I was just kind of goin’ back and forth around here. Uh- gettin’ pictures. Say- uh- where are you goin’?” 
“Well, we were gonna go check out our Grandpa’s old house. It’s around here somewhere,” Sally said. 
“Oh! C-can I go with you?” 
“Well -” Franklin started with a smile, and that glint in his eyes. He was gonna say yes. Nubbins could feel it. But as he turned and looked at the others, who were uncertain, he hesitated. “Uhm..” 
“I mean-”
“We’ll be in a hurry to get out of here after that-” Nubbins tried really, really hard to look harmless, but whatever face he was making did not help at all in gaining the trust of the van-goers, who started all trying to make excuses more rapidly. Drayton was always good at getting people’s trust, and getting them to come home with him. Nubbins didn’t know how he was so good at it. Nubbins tried to think of what Drayton might do. 
The first thing that came to mind was fake a heart attack, but that wouldn’t really help in his current situation. Plus that usually worked on men more than women. And the people who wanted him out of the van were a mix of both. Franklin liked him. Jerry and Sally seemed the least determined either way. He didn’t think he could get Kirk to like him, or want him there. But he did think Pam could make him be nice. So Nubbins thought about what Drayton did to lure women. Which was either finding lonely, recently divorced or widowed women his age and inviting them to dinner, or acting really really pathetic and sad. 
“I uh… I just don’t wanna be alone t-today. Is all,” Nubbins began. “M-my twin brother got drafted a while ago and… and today is our birthday… And uh,” Nubbins sniffled for dramatic effect. “We- we got the letter today. That.. That Bobby won’t come home- and I- I just don’t want- I- I won’t be in your hair too long- my older brother is at work today and- I- I wanna be there when he gets home- so- so I can tell him but… I don’t.. I don’t wanna be there right now.” 
“Oh my God,” Pam said.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jerry said. 
“Oh- Of course you can stay with us,” Franklin said, before the others could object. Sally looked fit to hit him over the head about it, but she didn’t. Probably because they had company. 
“Yeah, uh, sorry about that. Man,” Kirk said. 
“It’s.. It’s… It ain’t easy. But… I-I’m gonna be okay.” 
“Is… Is that why you did that?” Franklin asked, gesturing towards his hand. 
“Huh?”
“Is that why you cut yourself like that?” Franklin asked. 
“Oh uh- k-kinda. It… it feels good. Wh-when you get hurt real bad sometimes your body gives you a- a little jolt! And it hurts. I-I kinda like the way it hurts too.I- I could do it again and show you, if you’d like!” Everybody said no at once, and then-
“If you’re gonna come with us, you have to stop doing that,” Sally said. 
“Yeah, you’re okay so long as you’re not doing anything crazy,” Kirk added. Nubbins narrowed his eyes a little, but didn’t say anything. 
“Oh- uh- okay.” 
“Let’s talk about something else,” Pam said. 
“Well, uh- Wh-What’s your star sign?” Nubbins asked. Pam’s eyes lit up and something in Kirk died. 
“Hey uh- pal, we’re runnin’ low on gas, do you know if there’s any gas stations around here?” Jerry interrupted. 
“Oh! Y-yeah, there’s- there’s one up this way a little ways.” They went to the gas station, and Nubbins laid flat in the back, against the door, while the girls got out to get barbeque and cokes. Jerry and Kirk talked a little to Drayton, and Franklin just looked down at Nubbins, smirking a little, but not saying anything. Nubbins broke into a grin too. Hiding from his big brother, trying not to snicker too much, it felt like a game. Nubbins wondered what it would be like to keep Franklin. If they would keep playing games like this together.They would have to keep him for that day, of course, but after all that was about to happen, they couldn’t just let him go. They should, logically, just slaughter him after the time loop was over. But Nubbins was lonely. He had been since Bobby got drafted. And even though Bobby would be back one day, probably soon, Nubbins still sort of wanted someone around. Someone new. And Franklin was new, and nice, and if he tried to get away they could take his wheels off so he’d have to stay with them. He was perfect. Their stars were aligned, like Pam said. 
Nubbins just had to convince Drayton of it. 
They went to the ol’ Franklin house with no more gas. Drayton told them they didn’t have any, which meant he wanted something with the van group. Usually it was his way of stranding folks nearby, so the Sawyers could ambush them and pick them off. But Nubbins knew these idiots were going to come right to them. He had to keep his excitement inside. Everything was going perfect. 
Nubbins stayed in the van, curled in a ball near Franklin’s feet, until Jerry opened the sliding door, and Nubbins skittered out, quickly. Jerry jumped back a little at that, but Nubbins didn’t pay his concern any mind. Jerry would only be alive a few more hours anyways. Nubbins looked around the old house. It was weird. He had been there before, of course, putting up some of his not-as-good art, worried that if Drayton saw it he might take it down. But it was different being invited, and different to see the people who lived there actually there. 
Nubbins had heard vaguely of the Hardesty-Enrights before. Grandpa didn’t like them much, but Grandpa didn’t like anyone to be close enough to see through binoculars. That was why he moved out to Newt- to get away from people. And it had just about worked before ol’ Franklin Enright decided to settle in. Grandpa complained about him a lot, and Drayton complained about his son Lefty a lot, so Nubbins had never really tried to make friends with the kids across the field. They were weird anyways- the whole family just up and left their Grandpa in the old house, coming by sometimes, but leaving him alone most of the time. Nubbins just couldn’t understand why anybody would do that. He would never leave Grandpa alone like that. That was probably why their Grandpa was dead and his wasn’t. 
That, and his general learned distrust of outsiders, had put Nubbins off the Hardestys before he even knew any of them. He wondered, maybe, if he hadn’t listened so well, if he and Franklin could have been buddies. He bet Franklin and Bobby would have been good buddies too. Nubbins turned, and went back to Franklin. The others had set some planks out so he could wheel out of the van, and then run off somewhere. 
“Oh hey. I thought you ran off with everybody else,” Franklin said. 
“Me? Nah. Wh-where did everybody go?” 
“Inside I think,” Franklin said. He was munching on a sausage Drayton had sold them, and he started to wheel towards the house. Nubbins followed close, looking down at him. 
“Y-you like that meat?” Nubbins asked. It was a good sign that Franklin already liked their food, since Nubbins had already decided in his head he was keeping him. 
“Oh, yeah- you uh- you want some?” Franklin asked, offering the sausage to him.
“Oh- uh- no, we got more at home.” 
“Huh?”
“That guy at the station, the old man, he’s my brother- he- he cooks that meat himself. We got more at home.”
“Oh… That’s why you were avoidin’ him.” 
“Yeah. Cook’s no fun, doesn’t let me do nothin’.”
“Cook?”
“Oh uh-that’s- that ain’t his name, that’s just what we call him. Like my little brother is Bubba, and uh- sometimes they call me Paul.” 
“Paul? What’s Paul short for?” Franklin asked. “Or is it your middle name or..?”
“My name’s Nubbins. D-don’t tell the others.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“I don’t like them as much as you.” Franklin laughed at that. “You’re weird, Nubbins.” 
“Oh uh… Is that okay?”
“Yeah. I like it. I never met somebody like you.” Franklin rolled to the door, but hit some kind of beam in the floor, and had to rock his chair back and forth a few times to get over it. He met the same struggle getting into the living room, and Nubbins waited, fidgeting, not sure what he should do. The only person Nubbins had known to stay in a chair like that was Grandpa. He and Bubba just picked Grandpa up and moved him wherever he needed to go. But Franklin rolled himself around. So that seemed strange. Nubbins would probably roll Franklin when he kidnapped him later, but at the moment it didn’t feel right. Nubbins could hear laughter, echoing from upstairs. He ran up the first few steps, then looked back down at Franklin. 
“Uh… How do you get upstairs?” Nubbins asked. 
“I don’t,” Franklin said flatly. 
“Wh- but… They’re upstairs.” 
“Yeah. They… They pro’lly either forgot or…” 
“Oh well uh- I- I’ll be right back,” Nubbins said. He ran up the stairs, quickly pinpointing the laughter. He burst in the room and most of them jumped. 
“Oh, hey,” Pam said. “What’s uh- what’re you doin’?” 
“You uh- you forgot Franklin.”
“Huh?” Sally asked. 
“He’s downstairs. And- and he’s got that chair- so he can’t get up.” 
“Well,” Jerry said. “Yeah.”
“So uh… Let’s go downstairs.”
“We were just lookin’ around up here,” Kirk began.
“Yeah, I wanted to show everybody my old room,” Sally said. 
“I’m sure Franklin will be fine ten minutes alone,” Kirk finished. 
“Oh… Did.. Did Franklin have a room?” 
“Well, yeah, Grandpa always let him stay down the hall-”
“How’d he get up then?” 
“Well- when he was little Grandpa would carry him up. It was a lot easier when one of our uncles-”
“Oh! Uh! Well, me and Bubba carry our Grandpa up the stairs all the time. Franklin’s a bit bigger-”
“You can say that again,” Kirk said. Nubbins didn’t understand his comment, but he didn’t like it either. 
“Well uh- with me, and you, and Jerry, we could probably-”
“Look, man,” Kirk began, putting a hand on Nubbins’ shoulder, not unlike how Drayton did sometimes. “We know Franklin can’t get up here. That’s kind of the whole point.” 
“Huh?”
“He’s fine, right now. Alone. We’ll go and talk with him in a minute. We’d just all like some time away from him for a little while. I mean- if you’d been in the van with him as long as we had, you’d wanna strangle him too.” 
“Nuh-uh!” Nubbins snapped, slapping Kirk’s hand off him like it was a spider web. “I- I like Franklin.” 
“I mean, I’m his sister, I like him too,” Sally began. “He’s just a bit… Much sometimes.”
“Whiny,” Kirk said. “So damn whiny.” 
“He’s… He’s real talkative,” Pam said. “Too much, sometimes.” 
“I mean… I think he’s okay,” Jerry added, awkwardly. Nubbins couldn’t understand this. Why did they even bring Franklin with them if they didn’t like him? Why did Sally just let those outsiders talk bad about her brother like that? Even Drayton wasn’t that mean. Whenever an outsider said something bad about Nubbins, or Bobby, or Bubba, Drayton would stand up for them, and tell the outsider he hoped their baby got cancer, or something normal like that. 
“You… You’re a bad sister.” 
“I- excuse me?” 
“You’re a bad sister! You- you just let them be mean to him! Y-You shouldn’t let nobody else talk bad about your brother. Jus’ family gets to! You’re a bad sister!” None of them could think of a response to all that, and Nubbins was done talking with them, so he blew a raspberry at them and left the room, stomping down stairs. 
“So… I guess they didn’t forget,” Franklin said, kind of softly. 
“Well uh… They.. They said-”
“I heard most of that. You don’t talk quiet.” There was a pause. 
“I- uh- I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re… You’re one of the only people who’s stood up for me in a long, long time.” 
“Oh.” Nubbins heard footsteps, slinking down the stairs. He expected it would be Sally- that was kind of how Drayton slunk around after he said something he shouldn’t have. Nubbins expected some kind of apology. But it was his least favorite van goer. Kirk. 
“Hey uh.. Franklin, you know where that old swimmin’ hole is?” 
“Huh?”
“Me an’ Pam were thinking of going down there. Gettin’ out of the house a little.” 
“Oh yeah- uh- it’s just down the hill,” Franklin said. Nubbins considered doing that thing Drayton hates- where he wedges his whole body in the staircase so he can’t get past him, but he had a good feeling about Kirk’s little swimming trip. Nubbins moved aside, and let Kirk and Pam slink past. Nubbins couldn’t help the little giggle that escaped him as they slipped through the door. “What’s so funny man?”
“N-nothin’. I- I just got a good feelin’,” Nubbins said. 
Nubbins’ good feeling lasted all night. The Hardesty siblings didn’t seem to share it as the night went on though. Kirk and Pam didn’t come back. Nubbins knew why, but said nothing. Jerry went looking for them. And he didn’t come back either. Now there was only one more to go. 
“I guess… they’re probably lost,” Franklin said softly. 
“It’s… It’s gettin’ too late. We should go and look for them,” Sally said. 
“What if we get lost too?” 
“We’ve got the flashlight, we’ll be fine,” Sally said. 
“We- we should got to the gas station and get help,” Franklin said. “Your brother works at the gas station, don’t he?” 
“Well uh- y-yeah- but I don’t know how much help he’d be.”
“Well the gas station’s got a telephone, right? We could call somebody-”
“Oh uh, it don’t got a phone.” That was answer enough for Sally. 
“Franklin, let me see the flashlight. I’m gonna go look for them.” 
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Sally,” Franklin said, hugging the flashlight to his chest. 
“Franklin, just give me the flashlight-”
“You really ought not to go-”
“Franklin!” 
“Franklin, i-it’ll be alright,” Nubbins said. “I’ll be here with you. A-and Sally can go look for ‘em!” Franklin still didn’t give up the flashlight. 
“Sally, I’ve got a bad feelin’. I-I don’t want anything happening to you either-” 
“Fine- I’ll go without it-”
“Wait- Sally- we could come with you-” 
“Jus’ give her the flashlight,” Nubbins said. “S-so she’s safe!” 
“No! Something terrible is about to happen and I just know it!” Franklin said. “Something terrible already happened- and now- I just-” 
“Franklin, you can’t stop me from going. You can only choose whether I’ve got the flashlight or not.” Franklin looked down at the light in his hands, and for a moment something like grief crossed his face. 
“Oh… Okay,” Franklin said, handing Sally the flashlight. “Be careful.”
“I will.” 
It was quiet. Everything was quiet, for a while. That made Nubbins nervous, and he started to fidget around. 
“Do you think… Do you think she’s okay?” Franklin asked. “I- I just changed the battery in that flashlight- it’s- it’s a good battery. I think it could last like- like thirteen years. I don’t think she ran out of battery.”
“Me neither,” Nubbins said. “It-it’ll be okay. Everything’s gonna be right like it should be.” Then, they heard a scream. The horrified, agonized scream of one Sally Hardesty. And the deep, low purr of the chainsaw. Nubbins couldn’t help but laugh. 
“Oh my God- Sally! That was- that was Sally!” 
“Yeah it was!” Nubbins said. Then he started pushing Franklin. 
“Wh-what are you doing?” 
“Takin’ you home for dinner!” 
Nubbins set everything up nice. He and Bubba went and got Grandpa, and brought him downstairs. They set Franklin at the dinner table, and put bricks around his wheels so he couldn’t go anywhere. Nubbins even set the table. He made sure everything looked perfect, and nice, and just right like Drayton liked it. Because that night he had a big ask. Nobody had ever gotten to keep an outsider before. The closest Nubbins had ever even heard of that was Momma having her boyfriends, but they ate most of them. Drayton had some kind of something with an outsider when he was a lot younger, but that all fell apart and it just made Drayton meaner. If Nubbins had to guess, Grandpa probably made Drayton eat his Franklin. That would make Nubbins a lot meaner too. Nubbins didn’t want that- couldn’t afford that fate. So he had to make sure every little thing was perfect. And, just as a backup, Nubbins slipped up to Drayton’s room and got that magazine with the shirtless man on it from his dresser. That way, if Drayton refused to let him keep Franklin, Nubbins could threaten to show Grandpa his magazine until Drayton realized Franklin should stay. Nubbins headed out of the kitchen, back into the dining room, where Bubba was trying to introduce himself to Franklin. 
“Oh God- Oh Lord- Please- Please don’t eat me-” Bubba tried to sooth him in his pretty lady voice, but for some reason that didn’t help. 
“It’s okay! We ain’t gonna eat you. You’re stayin’ with us!” Nubbins tried to explain. 
“What? Why- I- I like you, but I don’t wanna stay here- I wanna go home-”
“It’s real nice here. You like meat! And head cheese. We can have meat for dinner every night-”
“My family is gonna come lookin’ for me- m-my uncle’s a cop! He’ll come lookin’ and then-”
“Then we gonna eat him,” Nubbins said, flatly. 
“No! Oh God- Please- I- If you let me go, I won’t tell nobody- I won’t tell nobody nothin’!” Their conversation was interrupted by Drayton’s truck pulling up to the house and then-
“Boys! Come out here and help me with this-” Nubbins ran out to help Drayton first, determined to be in his good graces. Sally was with him, which was a surprise. She was bleeding all over the bag he had her in, and thrashing like she was dying, which helped Nubbins connect the dots. “Did your brother get all those kids?”
“Yeah! We got all of ‘em!” Drayton nodded sternly, then the two brothers worked to drag Sally back in. 
“Oh my God- Sally!? They got you too-” Sally was put at the head of the table and strapped down. 
“Oh wow, a bonus body! And you set the table,” Drayton said, happy for a second before his voice went flat. “What do you want?” 
“What?” 
“I know you want somethin’. You ain’t nice like this if you don’t want somethin’.” 
“Well, uh a little bit.” With Sally tied down, thrashing and screaming, Nubbins and Drayton stood up. Nubbins tried to keep his back straight, to give an air of authority, or at least of confidence. “This one is Franklin,” Nubbins said, pointing to him. “And we’re keepin’ him.” 
Drayton laughed in his face. 
“You’re funny, boy-”
“I mean it.” 
“You… You mean it?” Drayton was getting mad. 
“Yeah. W-we’re keepin’ him.” 
“You think you call the shots around here now- you think you can just bring home a random stranger and expect him to get fed and looked after and-”
“Did I stutter?” 
“I mean, yes-”
“Not that way! Like- like in the tone way not the-”
“No, I suppose you didn’t,” Drayton said darkly. Then he paused. “Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you want him? We’ve had hundreds through here- slaughtered and killed- and you ain’t given any of ‘em pause. Why him? Why’s he special?” Nubbins was half surprised he even got the chance to explain it. But now, he knew he would get his way. Once Drayton understood what Franklin was like, he wouldn’t just let him stay- he would want him to stay. 
“He-he’s real nice, and he likes my pictures! Of the slaughterhouse- he- he liked hearing about the slaughterhouse, and he likes your cookin’ and he’s funny and he likes the way I am and- and he’s got a good face and a good laugh and I like him!” Nubbins said. “Oh! And our stars line up! They- they line up good. He’s a- a uh… A Taurus! And I’m a Piscese- and that’s- that’s good together-” 
“Oh. So that’s how it is,” Drayton said. His voice was level. But not in a good way. In a way that made Nubbins feel like static was going across his skin. Nubbins, Bubba, Sally, and Franklin were all quiet, fixed on Drayton, waiting for his response. It felt like even Grandpa was holding his breath. “Well… I ain’t havin’ you two fudgepackers in this house!” Drayton snapped. “So if that’s how it is- you can- you can up and leave!” Nubbins knew Drayton didn’t mean that- he had this talk with him before, in another time.
“Well- if that’s how it is, you’re gonna have to leave with us!” Nubbins said, way more confident and mocking than he had any right to be, pulling the magazine out from its hiding place in his pants pocket and slapping it down on the dinner table for everybody to see. “I found this in your dresser!” The magazine, as if on cue, fell open to a picture of an entirely naked man. Drayton was staring down at the table like Nubbins just slapped a bouquet of live rattlesnakes down on it. 
“Boy-” 
“I-I know you worry about me- and- and you worry somethin’ will happen to me- and I guess this doesn’t make that better but- I-if you let him stay I promise I’ll be good and I’ll- I’ll stay by the house more. I- I promise. And- And I can help more with dinner and stuff- and takin’ care of Grandpa- and- and I bet Franklin could be real good at lurin’ people in! He- he already offered to bring his uncle here!” 
“Franklin!” Sally snapped. 
“I did not!” Franklin began. 
“Shut up!” Drayton snapped, “All of you!” Drayton bounced nervously back and forth. He was considering it. Nubbins started to smile. He was really considering it! He looked up at Franklin, who sat there quietly, scared and sweaty, but polite. “Fine,” Drayton said. 
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Nubbins started to jump around the table in joy. 
“But don’t ever ask me to keep another one! And if this boy brings us any legal trouble- so help me God-” 
“We get to keep Frankie! We get to keep him!” Nubbins said, taking Bubba’s hands, and starting to dance with him. 
“Listen, I’m gonna tell you what I was gonna tell him, and then you tell him all that-” Drayton started telling Franklin. 
“Oh- Okay-” Franklin said, pressed back into his chair as flat as he could. 
“W-Wait-” Sally said. “Wh-what about me?” 
“Oh,” Drayton said. “We’re still eatin’ you.” 
The next part was familiar, but new. Nubbins got a light brooming for going into Drayton’s room, and was told to put that magazine back where he found it. He did, and came back down to a blissful dinner scene. Sally was screaming her lungs out, thrashing at the chair, eyes glazed over in an odd way. Franklin was screaming too, trying to say something to her, trying to calm her down maybe. Drayton was chasing Bubba around, telling him to go get dinner, and threatening him with the broom. All in all, it was perfect. Dinner went the same as it did the first time, except with Franklin there. Nubbins was surprised by how upset he was about his sister dying, considering what a bad sister she was, but Franklin had genuinely screamed and sobbed until his voice was raw and he couldn’t physically cry anymore. Nubbins looked at his family, at Bubba, and Grandpa, and then over to Drayton. Drayton bounced and clapped and cheered as Grandpa hit her, again and again. Nubbins thought about holding him. About his limp, lifeless body. And Nubbins understood. He gently, quietly put his hands over Franklin’s eyes, so he wouldn’t have to watch, or think about it. Then, suddenly, quickly, Grandpa dropped the hammer, and Sally wriggled up and out- running for the door. 
“Holy shit- get her boys!” Drayton yelled. Bubba raced for the door, chainsaw quickly in hand, and Nubbins followed. Drayton was slow, and no good at killing anyways, so he hung back. 
Nubbins remembered this morning. 
His blood was pumping, as he ran after her. 
He knew he was alive. 
Nubbins chased her. Played his part. She was slower this time, Bubba had slashed her good once with the chainsaw- and while it hadn’t killed her, hitting her shoulder, it had bled her enough that she couldn’t outrun Nubbins for even a second. He could probably kill her in the driveway. But he had a plan- a feeling, really. He knew what to do. She screamed and he laughed, chasing, slicing, all again. It was still fun, sure, though it was different the second go round. She once again deftly dodged the cattle guard. Just barely. Then stumbled out into the road. Nubbins followed, careful, counting the seconds, trying to remember exactly how many cuts he got in. 
One. Two. Three-four. Five- And then he jumped back. Lept away from her like she’d burned him. Sally looked up, agony and confusion on her face. For just a second before the truck hit her. It was a pretty gruesome death, Nubbins had to admit. A lot worse on the outside than in it. But, regardless, as he watched it, he started to laugh. Nubbins corralled Bubba, back, into the bushes, out of the line of sight of the driver, who was wailing and crying and doing his best to resuscitate her. Nubbins knew from experience she was already gone. The two brothers headed back towards the house. 
Drayton stood outside, not exactly content. Nubbins walked up with a grin, whipping the blood from his knife onto his pants. 
“Did you get the bitch?” Drayton asked. 
“She g-got hit by a truck!” Nubbins said. “The d-driver thinks he killed her. No cops comin’ our way this time.” Drayton nodded. “W-wait!” 
“What now?” 
“Could you… Would you help me lie to Franklin about her?” 
“What?”
“Jus’- I’m gonna tell him she run off. Left him behind.” Drayton chuckled and shook his head. 
“You really care about this whole thing with him, huh?” Drayton asked. Nubbins nodded. “Well… I won’t fuck it up for you. Just… Be prepared if this whole thing don’t work out.” 
A day went by. Then two. Then three. Then a week. Nubbins had dreams, more often than not. Echoes of the loops- of what happened to his family in each one, or of being stuck in the loop again. The first few days had been nerve wracking- Nubbins still felt every minute like he would end up back in the loop, trapped again. But as time went on, he started to accept that he wasn’t. He had expected something big to happen- some kind of message from the stars. But life just carried on. Like it had before the whole thing had happened. 
Franklin was distraught. Scared that Sally would leave him, insistent that his sister was going to get help- that someone would come- that Sally still cared, that his parents still cared, that his cop uncle would turn up eventually. But they didn’t. And Franklin sort of seemed to lose hope. That made Nubbins worried too. Franklin was so sad all the time, and not eating much, and not doing much either. He was still like Grandpa, still like he wasn’t alive no more, even though he was. Nubbins took another picture of him, and he stuck it to the wall, with the pictures of the rest of his family, hoping that Franklin would get the hint- that he was with them- that he was one of them. But Nubbins wasn’t sure it was helping. 
Till one day, at the end of the week, he heard a familiar mechanical snap. He had been trying to help Bubba scoop up the chicken feathers- one of the many stupid little chores Drayton made him do so he could keep Franklin. Drayton kept giving him chores like that, and Nubbins kept doing them, even though he was confident there was no bite behind Drayton’s bark. Drayton said he was gonna cook up Franklin if Nubbins was bad, but Nubbins wouldn’t kill Franklin, and Bubba wouldn’t, and Drayton was never any good at killing- so there would be no one to do it. It was a hollow threat. But Nubbins wanted his brother to be happy, so he was doing that one anyways. Until he heard that noise and then looked up. Franklin was in his chair, holding Nubbins’ camera. Nubbins looked up at him with naked surprise. 
“You… You took my picture,” Nubbins said. Franklin examined the picture as it came out, an unreadable but near pleasant expression on his face. 
“It’s a nice picture,” he said. Nubbins swallowed heavily. “Or at least I think it is. I’m- I’m not a photographer like you-” Nubbins went over to him, cautiously. “I just- uh- there’s- there’s photos of everybody but you- so I thought-” Nubbins grabbed the picture from Franklin’s hands, not noticing entirely when he flinched a little. There were a lot of ways the picture could probably technically be better. But it was real and honest. 
“It’s a real nice picture,” Nubbins agreed. He laughed as he started hanging it on the wall, and for the first time, Franklin laughed with him.
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Day 6: Music is my life
"Your violence is but a silent cry for love
Your combat boots long for affection
You have never learnt to articulate yourself
And your parents never had time for you. "
Decided to draw the old fart for this one. Also a perfect excuse to entroduce y'all to one of my favorite songs. @texas-chainsaw-fanworks
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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event concluded yesterday!
Thank you so much to everyone who participated! This blog looks so full now and amazing! I’ll be compiling a master post with links to all the works and they’ll be put into categories like art, fic, playlist, etc. I hope to get that post up sometime around the first of the year.
That said, I’ve decided that until the end of the year, the event will be accepting late submissions!!
What that means is, if there was a day you missed, or a prompt you’d like to take another crack at, or if for any reason you were just unable to post something but wanted to, then you’re in luck!! Any posts following the guidelines can be shared up to December 31st! You can also use the prompts if you’re interested!
All you’ll have to do is the same as before, by tagging this blog and using the hashtag #tcmfanevent I’ll find any submission pieces that way so I can reblog them! This can be at any time in the day as I will check a few times throughout.
Once again thank you! And if you have any questions, let me know by messaging here, dropping by the inbox, or reaching out to my other blog, @charleslee-valentine!
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The final day of the tcm fan event with the prompt it’s a nice picture
I busted out the swap au for this one basically the idea behind it is nubbins is looking at a old photo of Bobby and getting sad because you know he’s dead in this au
Anyways I’m so grateful for being a part of this event this event I’ve made a lot of great friends thru this event thank you all so much
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
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Day 7- It's a Nice picture!
for @texas-chainsaw-fanworks , i would have liked to participate in this more but couldnt, but heres a quick lil story :] cw violence ig
FRANKLIN AND NUBBINS ENJOY THE SUNSET
Thick, cloudy, honey-colored streaks captured the glow of the descending sun. The two men, noticing the sky from the window, like the surface of a far-off planet, stopped in their tracks to bask in the yard.
“It’s beyond words, man,” said Franklin.
He wanted to cry at the sight of it. He had many reasons to. His heart swelled with a terrible wonder; he turned his head, and spat on the ground.
“My grandfather spent his last years out here. In the middle of nowhere, alone; he stopped reaching out to us, and my parents let him be. He died and his house turned to goddamn ruins ‘cause we never came by to check. I wonder why it was so easy. To just leave him.”
The nearby magnolia tree rustled as black birds poured out of it, under the golden dome of the sky resembling a cloud of noisome insects.
“But I get it. Why he refused us, why to him, it was worth it. It wouldn’t be so bad to die out here, seeing this sunset.”
And here he was.
Regretting his choice of words, he fidgeted.
What was he doing out here? He had made a friend, that man now standing behind him, stroking the back of his neck, watching the sunset with him, and to end the story there would be for the best.
And if, perhaps, the story ended for him, as maybe, he thought, might be deserved, and the man reached in his pockets, and pulled out the razor, and wordlessly brought the keen edge to his throat… He imagined a quick slash, the vessels of his neck emptying out on the ground, face down in the puddle, redder than the sunset, prettier than it to the man who would crouch over him.
But the hitchhiker giggled, oblivious to his spiraling train of thought. He had taken such natural beauty for granted and was glad to be reminded, was glad to pull away from his work to marvel at it with his friend.
“I-It’s real pretty, huh? I know. I’ll take a picture. And…I-I won’t charge you none.”
“You better not.” He sighed. The crumpled dollar bills in the jeans he came with were long gone. Reassured, Franklin took an unhurried swig of his warm soda pop. It was a weekly treat for the Sawyers, and the hitchhiker, disinterested, had given the bottle to him.
“Man, even the bottle looks pretty in this light. Look at that. Everything does.”
 He thought if he turned around, the hitchhiker might look prettier to him than he would have liked. But wanting to see his friend’s crooked grin, and share in his pleasure, he—
SNAP! went the wicked camera shutter.
“Hehe.”
“Hey! You took MY picture!”
----
The bright blue of day, the golden sunset, the stars at night. It didn’t matter what he did. It didn’t matter if he was bad. As long as he lived, he would enjoy each gift given to him.
Inside the house, the bound victims writhed with chafed wrists against their restraints. It was the last sunset they would ever see—in fragments—slats of orange light on the bloody wooden floor.
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Look at this photograph! Every time I do, it makes me laugh :3
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
Day 7, It’s A Nice Picture!
It’s been a good week, I’m glad that I could be a part of it even tho I jumped in last minute!
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For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Day 7- It’s a Nice Picture!
Ship(s): Implied Franknub (Franklin Hardesty x Nubbins Sawyer)
Word count: ~1700
Warnings: Abuse, injury recovery, mild panic attack, implied character death, unreality towards the end, bad self image.
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
___________
Taking pictures always used to be easy.
Easier than even feeding the chickens, which was his easiest chore!
He even thought it could be fun now and again. There was never much of that around the farm, fun was when he got to leave and adventure. But that was never very often, so he chased it when he could get it.
Running in the sunflower field, wind making his hair all tickly, snapping blurry photos of the beauty, was the most fun he had that didn’t involve some kind of danger. Unless tripping on his face and busting his nose up counted.
But that was before.
Now Nubbins, with his homemade wrist braces, can’t even hold his camera for more than a few minutes.
Bobby helped him build a stand to hold it up on, which helps him get extra special pictures, even ones he’s in. It helps that a few years after the accident, he got a new camera, one with a delay on its shutter.
The problem is being fast enough to get in the shot.
Ever since his brothers had to piece him back together, Nubbins hasn’t really walked much. Franklin Hardesty's wheelchair is occupied, but they found one just like his for Nubbins to have. His wheels are slower than his legs were though, or at least he thinks so. They feel slower.
There’s at least a giant stack of pictures of just his back that prove he isn’t quick enough to get into the frame.
It gets frustrating.
Nubbins has taken to hiding the bad pictures. Some part of him gets embarrassed by not being able to keep up with his old self. A bigger part is angry.
That growing anger is probably the reason why he eventually boils over, and tears up a picture with his dumb shaky hands.
He’d been trying to capture a moment of the family all together, and trying to make it natural. Pictures where everyone’s posing and stiff feel too pretend. Like they don’t like each other.
Nubbins wanted desperately to prove they did.
He was just desperate to feel like he was still cared for.
But he’d failed at even that.
Five pictures of his blurry, ghastly figure blocking the game of cards his brothers were playing, and he’d just totally broken down.
It wasn’t even easy to rip it up. The sticky, plasticky texture was strong. He only got it into three pieces before Bobby grabbed his wrists and stopped him.
“Nooooo. No! S-Stop it.” He’d chided like Nubbins was their pet raccoon.
Nubbins was so mad he could’ve hissed like a raccoon. If he were stronger, maybe he’d bite and claw and maim too.
He felt so worthless.
The little pieces of broken picture fell to the floor, one after the other. Discarded. Jinxed.
All of a sudden, it felt hard to breathe. Nubbins started freaking out for real. It was bad luck to do that to a photo. Everyone in his family could get hurt. Torn into little tiny pieces, just like they looked in the ruined photo.
He’d looked at Bobby and felt so much dread and guilt, thinking about him getting hurt again because of him, after all he’d been through from the war and stuff. Words were supposed to come out, but all that did was a sob. Pathetic and wet and sad sounding.
Bobby hugged him, which meant Bubba got up and hugged them both in one big scoop of his arms. Normally, Nubbins would never give in that easy to a crushing hug, finding it more fun to run (or wheel, more accurately) away from affection and be chased down.
This time hadn’t been normal.
Nobody was ever supposed to see him break down. Those moments were for when you’re totally weakened, alone behind closed and shuttered and locked up tight doors. At least, according to Drayton.
But as Nubbins cried and cried and got cooed at by his younger brother and twin, Drayton seemed compassionate too. As much as the old bastard could be.
He’d patted Nubbins’ head and shoo’d off his brothers.
“There, there now. You just, you just wait here and those boys’ll fix it up for you. Won’t they?”
The last part is through gritted teeth. Bobby got a whack on the head to encourage him, sending him scrambling to the floor to pick up the pieces of the ripped picture. Bubba ran off to find something to fix it with, while Bobby went straight to the table, shoving the settings aside to have a workspace.
Drayton continued to calm Nubbins, in the familiar, but strange way, “Just quiet up, boy. It’ll be right as rain in a minute.”
For some reason, Nubbins believed him every time. He hugged his brother even though he never hugged back. Drayton just promised,
“Look, I-I’ll even hang it on the wall. Anywhere you’d like it.”
“I-It’s not a..a good p-pi’ture..” Nubbins had argued bashfully.
“You boys ain’t good neither, but I keep you ‘round.” Drayton cackled at himself. Like something was funny.
“Outta m-my way.” Bobby interrupted by shoving right into Drayton and making him stumble, so he could show off the picture. It was taped back together and had a couple of stickers on the tears too. “W-We did it, bro!”
“See. All better now. Nothin’ to… got no more worries.” Drayton pat Nubbins on the shoulder one more time, and left the room into the kitchen. Probably to calm himself after being pushed by Bobby. That had been enough emotional outreach for him for the day.
Not for Bobby. He still wanted to cheer nubbins up with compliments and such, “Bubba says he r-reeeally likes th-this’n. Y-You made him look p-pretty!”
Bubba had even testified to it with his high pitched babbles off to the side.
That did actually help to make Nubbins feel at least a little better, “Y-You think so?”
Bobby nodded and his head made a weird, metal clicky sort of sound, “F-For sure! I-I likes it, c-cause you’s in it. Not a-all the w-way but that’s okay. L-Looks real good, a-anyway. Look at ya s-smilin’.”
Nubbins hadn’t realized how happy he looked before he got upset. The smile from the past come back to brighten his face.
That made Bobby cheer in celebration of his twins happiness, “There i-it is! The r-real life thing!”
They both matched perfectly in that moment, their smiles alight and their hands dancing and flapping and playing. With Drayton busy out of the room, there was nobody to make them stop either.
Though Bubba had had to come over and lock the little brakes on Nubbins’ chair wheels, since he was scared of his brother wiggling around too much and rolling away.
His appearance made Bobby remember something, an idea he’d had, “Y-You don’ gotta talk. I-I know you’s f-feelin’ better. So.. So I-I’d like it, i-if you come with us, o-on this next tr-trip.”
Automatically, Nubbins’ smile dropped and he shook his head.
Bobby wouldn’t hear it, “Y-You’ll be alright. Me and B-Bubba’ll look out for-for ya. W-We’re real good, a-aren’t we, Bubba?”
For a moment, Bubba was frozen, figuring out if it was even safe to make promises to Nubbins, and he decided it was, or at least decided to lie, ‘cause then he’d nodded and given a little thumbs up.
Nubbins felt encouraged, “I-I do wanna get some- some good o-outside pi’tures. Been a l-long time since I seen flowers.”
Which had been perfectly true. He hadn’t left the house in a long, long time, not since they settled here in battle land, and it was starting to drive him as looney as the head wound drove Bobby.
Bobby who, from his brothers vague agreement, got even more excited and started jumping around, “Yeah! We’ll t-take ya! W-We’ll show ya good!”
All the shouting drew big brother back into the room to break it up, with one quick warning, “After supper.”
“But-“ Bobby tried to argue.
It fell on deaf ears, “I’m ‘bout ready to kick you in your butt if you don’t your skinny ass in here and help.”
“J-Just think about it. Okay?” Bobby asked Nubbins before he ran off with Cook. When he didn’t respond immediately, Bobby grabbed his shoulders lightly and gave him a little shake, “O-Okay, Nubbins?”
He nodded. Gave a thumbs up like Bubba did. When it hurts to talk or he just doesn’t want to, Nubbins has learned to communicate more the way their brother does. Afterall, thirty-some-odd years of doin’ it that way was goin’ just fine.
Nubbins wasn’t sure everything was exactly fine, but it felt close to okay, knowing he was being included again. They’d hold their word and keep him safe. Just like they did with fixing up the photo.
Right, the photo! He was supposed to look for a spot to hang it up!
Nubbins wheeled around a little bit, since he couldn’t just lift his head, with a broken neck and all. He stopped when the tunnel overhead led to his favorite part of the house, the hall with all the lights. Nubbins decided he’d go up there and visit with Franklin before he made up his mind on the trip.
Franklin always understood bein’ underestimated and afraid. It was only natural he did, given their food, if they ever got close to running off, still thought he was a victim too after all this time staying with the Sawyers. You could look in his eye and see he’s a natural born killer, but put him in them wheels and suddenly he can’t do no foul.
If Frankie could kill ‘round battleland, maybe Nubbins really could go on trips too!
Oh, can’t forget- Nubbins grabbed his camera and his pouch from where he’d dropped it down to the ground after his outburst. Franklin would wanna see his pictures. He always did. It probably got lonely up there, in his little room that he doesn’t leave.
Nubbins would visit more, if only there were ramps his wheels could get up. Maybe he’d have the courage to ask for help building one sometime.
After the chili cook-off, he swore. They’ll get the trophy, they’ll be number one, and Drayton’ll be so darn happy he’d let Nubbins and his wheelchair go anywhere he wanted.
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Day 6- Music is my Life
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
A short, mostly silly fic taking place just before TCM2. Word count just shy of 2000, slight warning for sickness/ death in the beginning/middle, and general Sawyer -isms, but this one is ultimately pretty lighthearted.
Turn It Up
1986 was a good year for heavy metal. A good year for music in general really. Especially since he and Bubba found that groovy new rock n’ roll station on the radio- he and Bubba tuned in every night- and during the day when big brother wasn’t around- to listen to what Miss Stretch was playing for them. So, yeah, Chop Top was a little distracted. 
But he didn’t think he was that distracted. He didn’t even notice it when it first started. Yeah, Cook was moving a bit slow and not hitting them as hard as he usually did, but Chop Top chalked that up to him being an old fart and moved on. The cough came pretty soon after, but Cook just said it was ‘cause Nubbins was stinkin’ up the place, and Chop Top gave him a bath and moved on. He really didn’t notice anything was wrong for real until one day Cook just didn’t get out of bed. And even then, admittedly, it was Bubba who actually went to check on him. Bubba came back bludderin’ and cryin’, and Chop Top figured he woke their old crotchety brother from a nap and got broomed for his troubles. 
“What’s wrong, Bubba? He hit ya?” Chop Top started impersonating Cook, trying to make his little brother feel a little better, “I told ya and I told ya! Don’t you boys come an’ wake me up from my old man nap!” Bubba shook his head, hard, and Chop Top paused. “What, he comin’? '' He looked around the corner, but Cook was nowhere to be seen. Bubba pulled on his sleeve, and Chop Top went with him, right up to the little dead end tunnel Cook had put the old steel sliding door up in front of and claimed as his room. Bubba pointed at the door a few times, and Chop Top got the message. He lifted the door carefully, and slipped in. Cook was laying on his back, real still, and real quiet. Oh fuck, he’s dead. Was the first thought Chop Top had. The second was about trying to refurbish this place into ‘Namland, now that he was going to have to be the one in charge, but then Cook coughed so hard he woke himself up, and Chop Top relaxed. Chop Top moved closer, a little cautious. Drayton was pale, about the same color Chop Top himself was, which wasn’t ideal. There was a tinge of red to his lips, though not in a good way. Chop Top hoped he had just had breakfast in bed. “Hey, bro!” Drayton jolted and Chop Top expected a big reaction, a whole ‘Christ! What the hell are you doin’ here, you nitwit! Don’t you know better than to enter another man’s room like that!? I know you was raised better than that, I raised you!’. What he got was:
“Oh, fuck off, Bobby.” In a weak raspy voice. 
“You really don't feel good, huh?” Cook barely responded, glaring up at him from his mattress on the floor, but not moving around much. Chop Top moved a little closer. The red on his lips was blood for sure. “You let Bubba do your makeup?” 
“No,” he said flatly. “Been coughin’ hard. I'll… I'll be up soon, you boys just don't do nothin’ stupid in the meantime.” 
He wasn't up soon. And Chop Top and Bubba probably did a lot he would qualify as stupid in the meantime. Bubba was stressed and getting stresseder as the days went on. Cook got better, then he got worse, then he was okay again. Bubba tried to nursemaid him, and that just made him more mad. Chop Top didn't bother foolin’ around like that. If Cook wanted something, he'd ask for it. The old man never had a problem bitchin’ before. He stayed out of it, doing his own thing, hangin’ out with Nubbins, writing new lyrics for the band he'd make some day. Stuff like that. Until, once again, Bubba dragged him into it. 
Cook wouldn't wake up. He wasn't dead, that was for sure, but he'd gone to sleep in the middle of the day before, and now he just wouldn't get up. Bubba showed Chop Top all the ways he tried waking him, talking to him, and tapping on him, and shaking that old man like a ragdoll. But none of it helped. He was breathing, for sure, but he wasn't doing much more than that. 
Chop Top didn't know what to do. Not even in the slightest. There were a lot of words for what could be happening, but none of ‘em were good, and all of ‘em would just make Bubba bug out more. If it was any of the things he thought it might be, they had two options. Take him to the hospital, or wait. Bubba couldn’t take Cook to the hospital since he wouldn’t take off his mask, and Chop Top couldn’t because Nubbins couldn’t come in. Chop Top didn't wanna leave Nubbins behind. Nubbins hated that. He had gotten real clingy since Bobby had to go away. Especially after that time he spent in his wooden bed. Chop Top had to dig him up and crawl in there with him. He still wasn't sure why Cook had done that. Momma had a wooden bed. Grandma made sure of that. But when Grandma had gotten all stiff-like, Grandpa refused to let her be put away like that. It was too cold he said- too cold down there in the ground. So Grandma stayed in the attic. Chop Top was surprised Grandpa even let Drayton put Nubbins down like that. Or why Drayton would want to. Cook was always the one bitchin’ about keepin’ Nubbins lookin’ nice- Be careful with him, boy, I don’t wanna have to stitch his head back on, and Now don’t take him out raisin’ hell, you’re just gonna get him tore up. And those worms had not been kind to Nubs, no siree. The poor guy just couldn’t handle being alone anymore. And Chop Top didn’t blame him. 
So their only option was to wait it out. 
Chop Top was okay with that. Cook either got better or he didn’t. And if he didn’t, if Drayton died. Well… Then he just wouldn’t. He wasn’t going anywhere, whether or not he died. That comforted Chop Top. But it did not comfort Bubba. The moment Chop Top said the die word he started panicking again, blubbering and pacing and whining. Chop Top tried to calm him down, really really hard, but it was not working well. He got Bubba to sit, but he was still fidgeting, still visibly upset. So Chop Top did the only thing he really could. He got the radio, and he got Nubbins, and he brought them to the kitchen to help cheer up Bubba. 
“Hey, bro! What’s wrong?” Chop Top asked in his ‘Nubbins’ voice, positioning Nubbins’ head so he could look at him. Bubba looked up at Nubbins, with a pout still on his face. “Well uh, y-you know what I think, Nubs?” Chop Top asked, turning Nubbins’ head. “I think, it’s time for a little music!” He put the radio down, presenting it. “Yeah! Uh- yeah, what- what do you think about that, Bubba?” He turned it on, and turned the volume up, just loud enough that he was confident Bubba couldn’t hear Cook having another coughing fit in his sleep. “Let’s see what Miss Stretch is playin’ for us tonight!” They caught the end of Brain Damage by Pink Floyd. It was a good song- sure- but it didn’t have the energy they needed- it wasn’t the right feeling- it wasn’t right for dancing and jumping and shaking out the worry that naturally came with the whole “older brother’s dying of pneumonia or something” situation. C’mon Miss Stretch, don’t let us down now. 
“Can’t go wrong with the classics,” Miss Stretch said. Bubba nodded, and Chop Top grinned. He always responded to Miss Stretch on the radio. Chop Top figured she was Bubba’s fave too. “-But for our last song of the night, we’re playin’ somethin’ hot and new.” Chop Top recognized it in the first few beats. That’s why you’re my fave! 
“It’s our song, Bubba, it’s our song!” Chop Top hollered. He set Nubbins down, and pulled Bubba to his feet, bouncing with him. No One Lives Forever, Oingo Boingo. Perfect, perfect, perfect! Bubba started to bounce along too. Bubba wasn’t much of a lyrics man, but Chop Top already knew every word to this song. Chop Top started to sing along, “You worry too much, y-you make yourself sad, you can’t change fate, but d-don’t feel so bad! Enjoy it while you can, heh, it’s just like the weather! So quit complain’ Bubba! No one lives forever!” It was working fantastically. Bubba was bouncing up and down to the beat, trying his best to belt out the lyrics too. The two brothers didn’t exactly dance, but more so hopped around in a circle, holding hands and wiggling back and forth mostly in time with the beat. It was good. It felt good. Chop Top did his best to ignore exactly how poignant the lyrics were. It didn’t matter. It was going to be okay. Dead or alive, Cook would be okay. Chop Top danced harder and faster, trying to shake it all out like a wet dog, singing louder and louder, trying to just feel it. He and Bubba were out of sync for most of the song- Bubba not exactly being a words guy- until the howl. For one brief, glorious moment, the voices of Chop Top, Bubba, and Mr. Boingo himself aligned, and Chop Top felt good. Then the radio cut out. He turned, confused and a little angry and a lot embarrassed at how exactly his singing had sounded without the music- but then-
“What the fuck are you boys doin’? Makin’ all that Goddamn racket- how’s a man supposed to sleep around here? Are you idiots tryin’ ta kill me? Is that what this is? You sound like a pack of coyotes gettin’ flattened by an eighteen wheeler!” Bubba promptly flattened Drayton, squishing him to his chest like he was gonna blow away. Cook was still stuffy, and a bit pale, but he looked a whole lot better. If Nubbins could, he would say somethin’ about the power of music, and then tell Cook he needed more beauty sleep ‘cause he was still ugly, and then Cook would smack him upside the head. Chop Top just smiled, and moved to get the radio out of the way. He looked back at his brothers. Cook was trying to writhe out of Bubba’s arms like a ferret stuck in a Pringles can, and Bubba was babbling and trying to pet his hair like a dolly. Everything turned out okay. 
“Thanks, Miss Stretch,” he said softly.
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Day six of the tcm fan event with the prompt music is my life
For this drawing I decided to draw something inspired by mama by mcr because that’s a song I’ve always associated with chop top
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
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The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanwork's Event Day 6: Music is my Life
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks Made a playlist of songs I think Chop Top would listen to because I couldn't come up with playlists for the rest of the Sawyers, but I do have a headcanon that Bubba is obsessed with ABBA and Dolly Parton
White Rabbit - Jefferson Airplane
Starman - David Bowie
Stone Cold Crazy - Queen
Iron Man - Black Sabbath
She's a Rainbow - The Rolling Stones
Creeping Death - Metallica
Run to the Hills - Iron Maiden
Now I'm Here - Queen
Wish You Were Here - Pink Floyd
Space Oddity - David Bowie
Seek and Destroy - Metallica
Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang - Silver
Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd
Sheer Heart Attack - Queen
California Dreamin' - The Mamas and the Papas
Seven Seas of Rhye - Queen
Paranoid - Black Sabbath
Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne
Rocket Queen - Guns'N'Roses
Ride the Lighting - Metallica
Sympathy for the Devil - The Rolling Stones
Heroes - David Bowie
The Great Gig in the Sky - Pink Floyd
Fade to Black - Metallica
Peace Sells - Megadeth
(Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult
Bonzo Goes to Bitburg - The Ramones
In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida - Iron Butterfly
Mississippi Queen - Mountain
War Pigs - Black Sabbath
Killer Queen - Queen
Time of the Season - The Zombies
Four Horseman - Metallica
Let's Dance - David Bowie
Hallowed Be Thy Name - Iron Maiden
Mr. Crowely - Ozzy Osbourne
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Southern Discomfort
A TCM inspired playlist
Devil’s Night - Johnny Hollow
Red Right Hand - Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds
The Banished Horseman - American Murder Song
All Saints Day - The Silent Comedy
The Night the Lights Went Out in Georgia - Reba McEntire
Bad Ritual - Timber Timbre
Go Away Bad Dreams - Deine Lakaien
God’s Gonna Cut You Down - Johnny Cash
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
Day 6, music is my life
No art today, just keeping it simple with some song reccs, influenced by TCM for kind of a backwoods country horror/southern gothic sort of vibe, but nothing too serious. Shoutout to my partner in crime @fry-house for helping me curate some of the songs and coming up the title itself for this particular playlist.
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For the Texas Chainsaw Massacre Fanworks Event Day 6: Music is my Life
Ship(s): Radiohead/Vietnita/Brocktop (Chop Top x Stretch)
Word Count: ~1,800
Warnings: Alcohol use, hangovers, abuse mention, mild sexual content.
@texas-chainsaw-fanworks
________
It wasn’t intentional.
Bobby was supposed to be out and back before anybody even noticed he was gone. To just grab a couple drinks and then get the hell out. Easy.
Now, nobody else knew that plan, so did it matter that much when two beers turned to three, then three to four? Probably not. He wasn’t far from home and hadn’t driven anyways. He could be there in time still.
Except he didn’t walk his goofy ass home. He woke up in a pretty girls bed.
She greeted him with a soft, close-lipped smile, “Morning. Didn’t think you’d be up before the afternoon.”
A groan slips past his lips. His head is fucked. Bobby tries to sit up and then lays right back down, rubbing at blurry eyes, “Time?”
“‘Leven thirty. You got somewhere to be, I’ll drive you.” She informs him, sitting on the side of the bed. Her bed.
Bobby should tell her he’s got to get home. But he’s barely awake, and barely able to remember what happened last night either. Speech isn’t coming to him.
He just shakes his head ‘no’.
“Your head still hurtin’ you?” The woman observes, when he nods again producing a little pain-pill bottle from somewhere, maybe the night stand, and giving it to him, “Here. Don’t leave it on an empty stomach. I can make you breakfast too.”
Really, he appreciates the offer. There’s no way in hell he’d lie and say he doesn’t like the attention from this gorgeous lady. But, one thought creeps up in his head and he has to ask, wondering if maybe she’s one of those women that take advantage that his big brother warned him about. After all, she doesn’t seem to be affected by last night in the least.
Maybe she was sober while he wasn’t.
“A-Aren’t you hungover t-too?”
“Sugar, I do that every night. If I still got as fucked up as you, I’d’ve been kicked out by now. My drunk lasts a lot less than yours.” She informs him, kind but a little humored.
That’s when Bobby remembers some. Pretty girl is the disc jockey from the bar. Stretch is her work name. Vanita is her real one. Even that part of her is beautiful.
Okay, so he might be a little pussy whooped, but he can’t help it. She played good music. Actual rock and not the radio approved shit. Alcohol in his system meant he was probably rambling about all the artists and such for hours last night, and she’d done nothing but listen contentedly. And then kiss him.
It was really pretty fun, dancing all night, sharing drinks and cool facts and kisses. Nothing like the other quick hookups he’d had in bathroom stalls and seedy motels. The kinds where they wouldn’t look him in the face or kiss him after they got their rocks off.
Those times had been better than being lonely, but not being hat he wanted. Nothing like miss Vanita.
Even now, she could kick him out. Instead of sitting here close and brushing stray hairs off his face, she could be dragging him out the door.
Not that he even should be still here. He’s a long several hours overdue to be back home. They’ll have noticed by now he ain’t there.
He looks her in her eyes, half squinting from the stubborn headache, “I-I kinda lied. M-My brothers’ll be look-lookin’ for me.”
Stretch seems understanding, putting her sweet hand in his hair like she’d done the night before and makin’ him blush like some kinda idiot, “I can take you home, hon. Promise it won’t bother me none to do it.”
“I-I don’ wanna.” Bobby doesn’t know why he’s honest. Like he’s her puppy or something.
“Mm. I hear ya.” Stretch can sense the sadness in him, the part of the truth that isn’t being told. She just misunderstands it’s meaning a little, “Bobby, are you sure you got somewhere to go? You can tell me the truth.”
“Huh? O-Oh yeah. M-My brother o-o-own’s a real big farm house. We all l-live there. All-“ He counts his siblings on his fingers, including his Sissy even though she doesn’t come home often, “Five of us.”
That doesn’t fully answer her question though. Stretch asks him slowly, “And you’re safe there?”
“S-Sure. Drayton says..says I-I’m in my r-rebellion phase.”
All he means by that is that he’s on a slightly longer leash than he used to be, not getting beat up the same as he used to either. Safe enough. He might get smacked around a little for coming home so late, but it’s nothing miss Stretch outta worry her little self about.
She sure looks like she’s worrying though, with her eyebrows all shot up high on her forehead, “Mister, you told me you were 30 something.”
“Yeh. I-I am.” Bobby tells her bluntly, even though his stutter makes him sound less sure.
“Alright then.” She relaxes quick, looking at him in this infatuated way, the kinda look nobody ever gave him before. A light laugh bounces her strong-frame shoulders, “You are a mystery, Robert Sawyer.”
It sounds nice, but he wants to be sure she isn’t trying to pull one over on him. “I-In a good way?”
“The best.” She promises.
“Cool. Gr-Groovy.” Without the whiskey and beer, he ain’t exactly some Romeo. He feels awkward and dumb, so he tries to make up for it, “Hey, c-can I kiss you?”
Stretch hums with tiniest play of a smirk on her face, “Honey, you done a lot more than that.”
Oh she knows just how to make him blush. It’s nice having someone who challenges him back.
He smiles really genuinely, even though he’s been told his overbite is gross looking, he hopes she won’t mind, “I-It’s polite to ask.”
She must like his smile.
“Then yes, baby. Anytime you like.”
Stretch even initiates the kiss, already holding him in her arms, only taking a little effort to lean in and connect their lips. Everything about her is gentle, but not her kisses. Those are hungry. Fierce.
Dominant.
Bobby makes some kind of a noise like a whimper and a mewl combined. It makes Stretch laugh softly.
Flushed as pink as a peach, he pulls away a little, for the sake of catching his breath as much as to get his bearings back, “Wh-What’s funny?”
Her soft hands never leave his face, “You just weren’t this shy last night, baby. Don’t worry though; I like my boys a little soft.”
Soft isn’t really a word he’s been called before. Or even been allowed to be. In his head, soft translates into pansy ass. To sorry excuse for a brother.
He knows his face must light up like a puppy dog when she says that. Every instinct in his body screams to kiss on her, so he does. Not that he’s usually one to deny things like that, but it seems especially right, being here with this special girl.
He lungs and kisses all over her face. Any inch of skin he can reach gets a smooch.
She’s howling with laughter by the time she gently pushes him off, “Calm down now, mister!”
But he doesn’t want to go far away from uer. The contact and the pressure and the warmth are too nice. He leans on her while his hands get tappy and a couple little noises squeak past his attempts to stop them. That happens when he gets happy. Stretch might have to get used to that.
She doesn’t seem off put at a glance. If anything, the look in her eyes is kinda fond. Loving.
Her fingers card through his long hair again, careful not to catch on any tangles, “You and me gonna party ‘gain soon, sweet thing?”
Bobby shrugs, “M-Maybe once I’m ungrounded. I-I’m gonna be in biiiiig trouble.”
“Even if I come back with ya and explain?” Stretch offers.
That makes him feel silly. People don’t really think it’s normal, him being old as he is and still being pushed around by his big brother. Living with him ‘stead of on his own.
They think that it makes him either some drooling idiot, or a spineless pushover. Like he’s just supposed to walk away from the man that raised him, and his other two brothers that need the extra help. The man feeds him for thirty years, takes care of his brothers and helps with his medicine, and that’s supposed to mean nothing?
Thankfully, Stretch ain’t most people though.
Bobby looks at her all wide eyed, “Y-You’d do that f-for me?”
She sounds real genuine as she explains her reasoning, knowing he needs to heard it to believe it, “Sure, hon. I get it, you been gone all night, but it’s better’n both of our drunk asses winding up in a ditch somewhere. They’ll understand that.”
He nods, and wraps his arms right around her, determined to look in her eyes while he declares, “I-I won’t let ‘em be mean t-to ya. Y-You’re my girl, miss Stretch.”
It was mostly a success. His eyes do that blinky twitchy thing they do, which has always annoyed him, but it doesn’t seem to bother her.
For once, she’s the one between them that blushes “Am I now?”
“Y-Yeah. My..My fave.” He promises, hoping she understands what a high compliment that truly is.
But then she says something that surprises him. “Ain’t always you get to meet the folks this early. That’s gotta be a new record.. Hope I’m not comin’ off too desperate on you.”
As if. Not when Bobby’s around, he thinks. His middle name might as well be desperate (He actually doesn’t officially have one on paper.) It’s awful weird having someone who doesn’t just automatically point out that he’s annoying or blame him for everything. Stretch really thinks she could be too much?
“N-No way. Y-You and me, we c-could be s-soulmates o-or somethin’.” To prove it to her, he belts a line from a Van Morrison song about love, “I'm run into to her like a river strong-“
Music gets to a girl like her. One who knows allll about it from her nights dj-ing at the club. She interrupts him with a kiss.
Strong as all the other ones with even more tongue. There’s intention behind it, a silent but perfectly clear question. An offer to do a repeat of last night, but sober. Bobby gives her some little sounds as confirmation. Moaning little whines.
All the confirmation she needs.
Stretch throws her leg around his waist, using the added leverage to pin Bobby to the mattress and straddle his waist.
Somehow they stayed connected through all that, but she breaks the kiss to ask him, panting, “How much longer b‘fore you hafta go?”
“A-A little while more w-wouldn’t hurt nobody…” He confirms.
It’s true enough. Might get him hurt, but he’s more’n used to that.
Something tells him he ain’t never gonna get used to the feeling of a pretty girl on top of him this way. So he’s sure as hell gonna revel in it.
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Day 5: The saw is family.
Bubba kept on nagging him to read him a book and Nubbins just caved in after some time. @texas-chainsaw-fanworks
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