GrotesquelyFemme
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The Old House by GrotesquelyFemme
Fandoms: No Country for Old Men (2007), No Country for Old Men - Cormac McCarthy
03 Mar 2026
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When his neighbor finally finds her beloved dog dead at Anton’s feet, his mother attempts to apologize on his behalf. But Anton doesn’t understand. What good was the dumb and deaf thing anyways?
Recent bookmarks
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Short character study (of sorts, not really but adjacent) of the Sinclair boys relationship to you as a free use pet being held captive in their house
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As fate would have it, waiting for death was as futile as trying to escape it; but Carla Jean has never been very good at either.
Post-summer 1980, Carla Jean attempts to move on from a life suddenly intersected by death. Death, however, has different plans. (running with the barest scrap of ambiguity the film provides)
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Two and One Makes Three (Or Four) by sorry4charlie
Fandoms: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
06 Apr 2026
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"The first time Dutch pulls the whiny, pleading act in front of Arthur, Hosea in turn has the privilege of seeing the teen’s face contort into the funniest expression. His eyes dart between the two older men like he’s trying to figure out if they’re pulling one over on him. But Dutch is stubborn and Hosea is more than a little amused, so neither of them back down."
A few early musings in the perspective of Hosea- his relationship with Dutch, Arthur, and Bessie altogether.
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Nacho is waiting to be rescued at the motel Ocotillo.
But what if Lalo finds him first?---
Based on an idea given by an Anon on tumblr <3 -
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Nacho can feel a fruit fly crawling up his finger. His body is so still, even as he wills it to move, to walk out of the room with everyone else. He can’t. All he can do is stare at Jorge, at Lalo Salamanca.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” Lalo says quietly, shrugging, his eyes unmarked slates of black, “I don’t want this to end, Nacho. Indulge me. Call me Jorge for the rest of your life if that’s what it takes. No me importa.”
He turns his face to the TV screen, the mute symbol sliding from corner to corner. James Gandolfini’s mouth is moving, but Lalo is speaking. Smiling that cruel, mocking grin. His eyes slip shut.
“I’m sorry. It’s just the way it is. It’s not the meth,” he snorts, “I dream about you. I think about you all the time. I can’t get excited about any other women. There’s nothing else to say. I love you.”
Or: Lalo joins his family in Albuquerque just before Dog Paulson’s makeshift funeral, and decides to play a little game with the apple of his eye.