#yes this is about better call Saul so what

[thekimspoblog]

You know, Kim lied to her own clients to manipulate them into taking plea deals.

That's a genuinely evil thing she did, and yet nobody talks about it.

God the neoliberalism of this fandom is cringe.

[villa-kulla]

“Last chance to look at me.” - Gus Fring

Breaking Bad / Better Call Saul

[geekynichelle]

Some Fans: Mike is so badass and cool!!

Me: Mike’s son was, in universe, one of the only “good” cops and he was killed for it.  Although cops are needed to enforce our shitty system even they don’t get enough financial support to take care of their needs. Mike’s descent into the man he was in Breaking Bad is another example of how terrible capitalism/needing to make money to live is, and he actually is largely doing this for his family. He should be retired and yet the whole “a man provides for his family” rhetoric kept him going until he died. 

[1spooky-dad]

A part of me hurts to know that the majority of people do not know that Better Call Saul is named that specifically to poke fun at my uncle Bert

[qkumber]

WHYDIDNT HE JUST TAKE THE FUCKING 7 YEAR DEAL!?!?!?!?!?!??!!!!!!?!?!?

[finsterwalds]

Thinking about better call saul if the action took place in france just because I wanted to see them in cunty robes lmao. More thoughts under the cut!

Obviously the action and the whole premise of bcs/brba wouldn't work in france (legal system aside, the whole cartel and walter white storyline would have to suffer major changes due to social security and the mexican cartel well. not existing here stricto sensu). But let's talk about the real Important Stuff : their names

I think Howard Hamlin would work well as Edouard Hamelin. He looses the cool HH initials yes, but it works really well as a genuine french name imo, and Howard/Edouard are pretty close phonetically

Chuck could still be called Charles without any realism issue, but he'd be nicknamed Charlie rather than Chuck because that's what a french person would go for... nicknames don't work the same, yeah

Kimberly Wexler and James McGill, I have no idea lmao. James when translated becomes Jacques, but it's such a boomerish uncool name that I cannot resolve myself to call my boy like that. It's also one generation too old. Jimmy being born in '60 could technically be called Jacques, but it'd be old-fashioned, as it's a name mostly given to the kids of the decade that came before him. McGill is an irish name, so something funny could be making Jimmy a breton with a funky last name like Gall/LeGall ? That's hilarious to me. But who knows.

Saul Goodman is a pun, so this is even harder for me to conceptualize. Saul's marketing would definitely not work in france at all, as no one would realistically hire a lawyer with a puny name and such chaotic displays (+ I think ads for legal démarchage are illegal mind you). However, let's have a crack at it. It would have to be a pun based off an expression similar to "it's all good man", or implying something positive and familiar... I need to think on that one.

[mouse-wife]

Sorry I’m late to the HL2VRAI stream everyone, very rude of me.

Oh my god it’s the wrong stream. Sorry about that everyone. Could you excuse me for a second? I need to figure out what’s going on.

What the heck?

It’s a Breaking Bad stream?

Yeah, the trailer and opening were a fake out. It’s a prank.

On me?

No, you know. It’s just a joke!

What’s the joke exactly?

What do you mean?

HLVRAI doesn't sound anything like that. So what's the joke? That I thought I would get to see Benry and Bubby and Sunkist again? Because that's pretty funny actually. It would be a great day for me if I got to watch a stream and think Benry is gonna show up.

That's not the joke. It was just like.. y'know... what if it was HL2VRAI?

I think we covered what would happen Wayne, I'd get to see my pretty little Benry.

Okay everyone, I think it's time to move on and watch the stream. The fake out thing was stupid. Wayne, you wanna get us up to speed on what's happening in Breaking Bad?

Can I just ask? What's next?

Sorry?

What's the next joke? Bubby movie trailer that's actually Better Call Saul? Portal but the AI but it's really The Sopranos?

Book of Benry reveal trailer so good it make me think I'm mighty sick. I'm rushed to the hospital and I'm there for hours and miss my Tommy Coolata rp meetup?

Nobody wants you to miss your Tommy RP meetup.

Then what's the joke? That while I'm on the operating table Benry is rushed in because he got in a plane crash and has a metal bolt through his head, but he bleeds out in the waiting room. Because the doctors are too busy trying to explain to me what a joke trailer is? Is that the joke? On the man's widow?

You got him Wayne. You reeeally got him.

THIS IS A BETRAYAL ON LEVELS THAT NO ONE'S EVER SEEN!

Permission to go home, lie down, and watch HLVRAI Commentary so my face isn't beet red for my Tommy Coolatta rp meetup?

Yes, yes.

[depressopax]

The first - Part 1

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Pairing: Multiple characters x gender-neutral reader (Nacho, Jesse, Kim, Jimmy, Mike, Howard) Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort, one-shots Warning(s): Mentions of sexual tension, weed and alcohol. Cuss words Words: 1.5k Summary: The first kiss with the BrBa/BCS characters English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 »» AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ««

The first kiss

Nacho

You and Nacho had been friends for quite a while during this time. One day, you were chilling in his house and talking and it kinda just happened. Having a complicated life, Nacho was scared to drag you - one of the people he cares about mostly - into it. But the sexual tension between the two of you reached a tipping point when you got into the topic of relationships.

“If things were easier, maybe I’d actually have time to find love” Nacho sighed.

“You deserve to be happy, Nacho.”

“I am. With you.” He realized how it sounded and shook his head. “...Nevermind.” 

But you’d heard enough to know you were not crazy. He liked you, too. Without another word, you pressed your lips against his. At first, he responded but soon pulled back.

“We shouldn’t.”

“I know.” 

Silence fell, and after a moment, you stood up, walking to the door before you felt Nacho grab your arm. Before given the chance to react - he spinned you around and pulled you into a kiss. With his palm cupping your face, he kissed you in a way no one had done before. It was passionate and needy. Afterwards, he held onto you, breathing hot air at you whilst your foreheads pressed against each other.

“Stay.”

You nodded.

“I’m not going anywhere”

Jesse

Jesse invited you to one of his parties and since you liked him, you decided to go. Little did you know, he felt the same… Opening the door to the house, you were hit by loud music, loud voices and the smell of alcohol, sweat and weed. At least 20 people in the living room vibing to the music whilst getting drunk and high. You felt a bit disoriented entering the place, directly scanning the place for Jesse. You found him sitting in the living room together with the friends Skinny Pete and Badger. When seeing you he smiled and greeted you.

“Yo! I’m glad you made it here.” After hugging you he dragged you along to the kitchen. “Something to drink?” 

“Yes please!” After handing you a beer, the two of you sat down next to Jesse’s friends and talked. They kept glancing at the two of you and grinning, like they knew something you didn’t. 

“Man… You’re so down bad for them, Jesse.” Badger mumbled whilst smoking his joint. Jesse looked like he wanted to murder his best friend on the spot, whilst Pete just laughed. So that’s what they were grinning about…

“Is that right, Jesse?”

“I…” He stuttered an explanation, but none was needed. 

“Maybe I like you too?” 

“If you’re playing with me right now…”

“Jesse.” You said firmly. “I mean it.”

After that, Jesse basically grabbed your hand and walked out of the house, with his friends whistling and laughing at the scene.

“Sorry ‘bout them. They’re such damn jerks.” Jesse muttered and looked at the night sky, his face turned away from you to hide the blush. 

“You like me.”

“And you like me, too?”

“Yea.” 

“Perfect.”

Without realizing it, the two of you had moved closer to each other. When he leaned down, you didn’t hesitate. It was like you could taste the smoke on his soft lips as you kissed. It was intoxicating. Afterwards, you both looked at the sky.

“We should have done that a long time ago.”

“Yea”

Kim 

Kim was overworking herself - as usual. And being her worried friend, you couldn’t stand the sight of it. During her lunch break, you went to her office at HHM only to find her buried in paperwork. 

“Kim, for fuck sake…”

She barely noticed your presence so you had to walk up to her and tap her shoulder.

“Hey…” she said absent-mindedly. 

“Kim…”

“I’ll be done soon, don’t worry”

“You’ve said that for days, Kim.” 

“Yea? Well why don’t you-” realizing she was about to snap at you, she went quiet really fast and looked at you in shame “I’m sorry.”

After some convincing, she finally agreed to leave the office and let you buy her a coffee. Seeing her holding the warm paper cup containing cappuccino melted your heart. She looked so calm, for once.

“I’m worried for you.”

“That’s sweet of you… But really, I’m fine.”

You were not satisfied with the reply, and she noticed that - since you had stopped walking. 

“Hey… What’s the matter?” she said softly and threw the empty cup in a near bin before standing before you.

“I care about you, Kim. I don’t want you burned out…” 

She stroked your cheek, and you could no longer hold back the feelings you harbored. When you kissed her, she didn’t pull back. Rather, she pulled you closer to her. 

“Will you stop nagging if I take the afternoon off?” You could only nod in reply, still in shock after the kiss. 

Jimmy

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Hmmm? What?” you looked at Jimmy, who drove the car. “Yea, of course. You told me about some clients.” 

“...If I bore you out that badly, just tell me, sugar.” he muttered before parking the car.

“You don’t bore me, Jimmy.” 

“Sure seems like it.” 

He left the car and you had to run after him. 

“Look, I’m sorry… It’s just, I’m worried, I guess.”

“Worried? Why?”

“You should hear yourself sometimes, Jimmy.” You hissed. “You’re dealing with some dangerous people. And you always put yourself in shit situations!”

“I got this! Ok?!”

“Yea, sure you do. Sure.” 

He rolled his eyes and continued walking. 

“Why do you even care?” he grumbled. You had to bite your tongue to not say anything stupid. Because what could you even say? “...And you’re back to ignoring me. Thank you, sweetie.” 

“Because I just care, ok?” Tears burned in your eyes, and now he noticed.

“Hey… Sweetheart-” he sighed, seeming uncomfortable with your emotions. “I’m sorry, ok?” 

He squeezed your shoulder. 

After a minute of awkward silence, he tried lightening the mood with saying:

“You got a lil crush on good ol’ Jimmy, eh?” Your reaction told him everything. “You do??” he chuckled. 

“...Idiot.”

“Your idiot.” he murmured before stepping closer - he tilted your head up and forced you to look at him. 

“I knew you got the hots for me, sugar. Don’t worry. I feel the same.” 

And then he kissed you. At first, you wanted to pull away. You were still angry at him - after all. 

But it’s hard to be mad at someone that kisses you like that. 

And the way he smiled against your lips - Oh god…

Mike

You had just found out about Mike’s work, and just what he does for his boss Gus Fring. And you were not happy. Saying “you needed to think”, you rushed out from his place. 

“Can you at least let me explain?” Mike hissed, following you - one step behind. 

“Mike…” 

“Please.” Something in his voice had changed. It went from the usually calm but firm tone - to a pleading one. It caught you off guard and you turned around to look at him. He seemed stressed.

“What?” you muttered.

“Please, let me explain.” 

And seeing how desperate he seemed, you couldn’t say no. So you listened to him, letting him tell you about his career and why he did it.

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“Why would I?” he scoffed, but quickly realised how harsh it sounded. Before you had a chance to leave again, he grabbed your hand.

“Because I care about you. I’m not pulling you into my bullshit.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at his next words…

“I can’t lose you. Please.”  

And then… 

He kissed you. Just like that. And how could you pull away, when you’d been dreaming of this moment for so long?

The kiss said more than thousands of words. 

Everything made sense now.

Howard

You had known Howard for quite a while and he invited you out for lunch during one of his breaks. 

“Over here!” you saw him sitting by a two-person table at the restaurant, waving at you with a big smile. You joined him.

“Jeez, Howard! This place looks… Expensive!”

“Only the best lunch restaurant in town!” He said cheerfully, but you could sense some sort of… Nervousness? In his voice.  “Tell me about your day!”

“Well uhm… It was-” He looked at you intensely. It was both cute but a bit weird. “...Are you ok?”

“Of course!” 

After lunch - which he insisted on paying - you tagged along when he walked back to HHM and his office. Before saying goodbye, he stopped you.

“Wait! I actually need to talk to you.” 

“Alright… Shoot.” 

“I…” he gathered his thoughts and cleared his throat before continuing - or at least trying to. “I kinda… Y’know…” 

You couldn’t help but smile. The blush said everything.

“Howard…” you cooed, and then leaned in and kissed him. He was startled, but then kissed you back and sighed in relief at you initiating this. 

“Was that what you were trying to say?”

“Y-yea…” 

“Well… I definitely feel the same.”

AHSHSHS this is prob one of my cheesiest one-shots yet- HOPE Y'ALL LIKED IT EITHER WAYS <3 Next part will be "First date". If you like this concept like, comment or reblog! Would mean a lot. :) MWAHHH

[purpledemonlilyposting]

Alright lets just shotgun all the Lorch salt she posted about me tonight while I was out working a real job.

✿ Post One ✿

[Lily's Post]

Ah yes here we have the classic Lorch wordy self ask. A staple.

So that would be a reference to this post of mine, lets see how well Lorch paid attention. Though given she thinks about 550 words is 2000 words well...

I'd love to know what Lorch thinks is wrong with this definition. Or, in fact, what she even thinks subtext is.

Ah yes my favorite anime... Better Call Saul. Which was my example.

Does she think Gus being gay is a "headcanon" or did she not actually, you know, look at the post she's bitching about?

And now she's trying to say I'm defending Akio because... I accurately stated what happens in Utena. A show she still has never seen. Which is made evident by her own statement.

✿ Post Two ✿

[Lily's Post]

Lorch I call you a retard because you're a retard. It has nothing to do with my definition of or understanding of media literacy.

✿ Post Three ✿

[Lily's Post]

Uh yeah Lily I wouldn't. I haven't said a goddamn thing about you being trans other than it doesn't matter, no one cares, and your opinions would be dogshit no matter how you identify.

And again with Utena. Here you go Lily, you can watch the entire episode with me explaining the scary allegory for you.

[talaok]

Since all the nominations for Emmys, I need one fic where reader is either video calling or with Pedro when nominations are announced. Somethig fluffy and full of emotions cuz Pedro deserves all of this 😊

a/n: this ask skipped the line just cause I felt that if I posted this next week it wouldn't have made as much sense, so yeah here it is (also, I’m so happy for him and Bella, like omg man)

Today was the day.

Pedro was never usually one to care about this stuff, yes he was grateful, and yes he was happy, but no other time had he felt this electricity in the air, this buzz telling him that something was about to happen... something good of course.

He had set up his tablet on the coffee table in front of the couch, waiting for the announcement to start, but he hadn't even managed to sit- he was too nervous, too excited.

A ringing sounded through the room all of a sudden, and after an initial scare, he smiled, glad you finally could call him.

You were on set. In Vancouver. A thousand miles from him.

"Is it on yet?"

Your eagerness spurt through the screen.

And he thought he was exited

"nope"

"what? How much longer?"

He glanced at the screen, feeling a tiny goosebump traveling up his back at the countdown.

"two minutes"

"Oh my god!" You squeaked, smiling so wide your cheeks almost hurt "how are you feeling?"

"nervous" he chuckled drily

"Oh c'mon, what about? We both know you're gonna crush it"

"I hope so" he sighed "God I don't know why I care so much" he laughed "The only important thing is that Bella and the show get nominated"

"And you, of course" you chirped in

He tried to fight a smile, but it still pulled at his lips "Well if there's room..."

"There you are" you nodded, your smile fading ever so little after a brief moment "god I wish I could be there"

"Me too" he agreed "but at least w-" a noise in the direction of the coffee table caught his attention

"Oh shit, it's starting"

"shit, go go go go" you mumbled, feeling all too powerless in your position.

He sat down in front of the screen as the announcers appeared on it.

"what are they saying?"

"uh- just their names and stuff"

"ok-"

A moment passed 

"what about now?"

He laughed, ever so thankful for your presence "Still that, sweetheart"

"fine, just- tell me when they start telling the categories"

"ok ok here we go" 

"what is it?"

"talk series"

"Bo-ring" you huffed, making him chuckle "I want the good stuff"

"they're doing reality programs now"

"oh my god! it's like they want to torture us"

...

"Oh shit" 

A pit created itself in Pedro's stomach

"what?"

"lead actor in a drama series"

"oh my god" you screeched, doing a poor job of trying not to freak out "C'mon baby I know believe in you"

"jeff bridges... Brian cox... Kieran Culkin... Bob Odenkirk..."

come on come on come on

His mouth widened as he let out an incredulous breath.

"baby?" you called, already knowing but wanting a confirmation "baby pl-"

"I got nominated"

"I told you!" You basically screamed, jumping out of your chair "I told you, baby! I'm so happy for you! You deserve all of it babe, all. of. it." 

"I can't believe this" he smiled, his eyes glimmering with that spark in his eyes he only got whenever he was truly happy "This is crazy"

"Well believe it baby, you're an Emmy nominee"

"I just-" he interrupted himself as the next category was announced "shit it's best actresses"

You nodded, trying to cool down while really just mindlessly pacing around your trailer 

"Bella Ramsey!" he laughed "Bella Ramsey! They did it! I knew they fucking would"

"oh my god!" you grinned "What a power couple"

"I know right?" he chuckled "I'll have to call them I-" and once again, the announcers interrupted his train of thought.

His gaze moved from you to the tablet again.

"best drama series?"

He only nodded, clearly all the anxiety coming back.

"Andor... Better call Saul... the crown... House of the Dragon..."

he fell silent as his eyes came back to you, and this time... this time they shined with tears of joy.

"yeah?" you asked, feeling your heart beating out of your chest.

"yeah," nodded.

You felt your heart and chest and body fill with pure joy as you let some tears fall from your eyes.

"you did it baby" you sniffled "I knew you would. You deserve it, all of it" you smiled, wishing with all your heart you were there to hug him and kiss him and whisper in his ear

"How are you feeling?"

He laughed "I don't even know, I just- I think I need time to process this" he smiled, his hands slightly shaking "A-Are you ready to go to the Emmys?"

"are you?" You laughed, quite literally quivering from the excitement

"As ready as I'll ever be"

[richeeduvie]

Hey BCS and Succession lovers…

(Yes, to the people who’ve managed to follow me, I’m quick with it)

I’m richeeduvie, a fellow lover of BCS and Succession.

I have loads of fanfic content dealing with self-inserts for Roman Roy and Lalo Salamanca, but I also write and have been writing for other Better Call Saul and Succession characters for over an year now 😌. About a month and a half ago, my blog was marked explicit (wrongly) and I suffered the consequences of my content being seen by me unless my followers/mutual went through about three setting loopholes.

Still, I wrote an embarrassing amount of things for Lalo and Roman (and Logan-) during that month and a half and if you don’t want to miss out on any content cause if you’re like me and able to consume an unnecessary amount of fanfiction of characters who don’t exist, then you’ll enjoy me 😌.

I don’t know if what I wrote during my time will ever appear in tags, but all you have to do is search of #richeeblockedblogera for my fanfic content that I wrote when my blog was marked explicit or if my old content will ever appear in the tags again as well. But it’s lots of stuff. Fun stuff.

Anyways, here’s the masterlists for Roman and Lalo. Please do read if you’d like, I still have to updated and create new masterlists so what you see isn’t even half of it, but that’s just my procrastination talking. But I just want to take this time to say I AM UNSHACKLED!!!!

[quiltedgold]

reader being saul's temporary secretary or assistant? and he's obviously got the hots for reader, but they tend to zay he's got to try better than that. that changes when he's drunk in his office after a long day, both of them Ray to get home, and when he tells reader to start closing up shop and they tell him yes sir, he calls them a good girl (which he doesn't realize goes straight to their crotch c: )

i went a little taxi gone wild with the drunk thing, hope you don't mind! i am such a sucker for intoxicated hookup fics, literally whenever i'm drunk i'm thinking "man if only saul goodman were here i would hop on him so quick😔" this one also features a cheeky reader who very much knows what they're doing to excite Saul but gets a kick out of denying him lol. thank you very much for the request dear anon, i hope you enjoy <3

Closing Time - Saul Goodman x reader

wc - 1.3k

warnings - smut, sleazeball saul bc duh, they/them prns for reader, fembodied reader, alcohol, boss x secretary

When Francesca took two weeks’ leave on account of her fractured kneecap, Saul worried at the thought of having to find a replacement on such short notice. Then, like an angel sent from heaven, you arrived at the door that very same morning, inquiring about a secretarial position. He hired you on the spot, thanking his lucky stars for small miracles. It didn’t hurt that you were a nice piece of eye candy, absolutely stunning in business casual and sporting a sweet smile and “innocent” look. 

However, Saul quickly realized you weren’t as naive as you looked. One afternoon he dropped a pen in your path, hoping you would bend over to pick it up and put your ass on display for him. Instead, you looked at the pen, then back to Saul with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re going to have to try better than that, Mr. Goodman,” you tittered before striding out of his office. 

He picked up the pen himself, face burning. Rats. Of course you weren’t going to be that easy, he’d been blinded by his first impression of you–the sweet, unassuming young secretary, shocked that an older man would show interest in them. He would just have to go about his pursuit in a different way. 

This didn’t stop him from eyeing you. Some days you showed up in short skirts or especially tight tops, teasing him with peeks of your cleavage or slivers of your smooth upper thigh when you crossed your legs as you took notes during client meetings. 

Whenever he tried anything, no matter how innocuous–inviting you to join him for your lunch break or inviting you back to his place at the day’s end–you responded the same as before: You’ll have to try harder than that, Mr. Goodman. 

And he could tell you were dragging him along, playing with his affections like a cat bats at a ball of yarn–you often bit at the cap of your pen while looking him right in the eye through hooded lids, or stretched your arms when you knew he was watching, buttons pulling taught against your chest. Sometimes you noticed him adjusting his pants after an especially flirtation-packed encounter, which you’d acknowledge with a little giggle and a toss of your hair. 

It drove him crazy. 

After one especially long day filled with interactions with some of his more unpredictable clients, Saul sought refuge in his office and knocked back a few glasses of scotch, relishing the loosening of his tense shoulders. 

“Sweetheart, would you come in here?” he called, tugging at the knot of his tie.

You appeared in the doorway, hands on your hips. It was obvious he’d been drinking, and his lips always got looser under the influence. Not that you minded the nickname, but you could at least put on an air of righteous indignation. “Yes, Mr. Goodman?”

“You can start closing up shop–thanks, darlin’. Good work today.”

“Yes, sir,” you turned to leave, just catching his reply.

“Good girl.” 

It was offhanded, you could tell he wasn’t really thinking about the words he’d just said as he took another noisy sip of his drink.

But you stopped in your tracks. The simple phrase sent a flood of warmth to your core. Had he really not said that to you before? Clearly not, based on your body’s reaction. 

“What are you waiting for? You want a drink or something?” Saul asked jokingly, expecting silence or your usual rebuttal. This was just another one of his propositions.

Yet… 

You turned back around and strode towards his desk. “Yes,” you said decidedly. “I would.”

His eyes widened, but he sat forward and grabbed a glass for you, tipping the decanter. “Lucky me, I get my secretary as a drinking partner. Say when.”

You waited until the glass was three-quarters full. “When.” Then you plucked the glass from the table and downed it, wincing a bit at the malty flavor. Hell, up until now you’d only known the cheap liquor of college parties and family holidays. But, the liquid quickly warmed your stomach, sending a wave of relaxation to the very tips of your extremities. You leaned over the table, waving the empty glass slowly in his direction.

Saul chuckled. “Woah there, champ, no one’s timing you. Here–” he gestured for your glass, which you gave and he filled back up. 

Instead of accepting the offered cup, you strode over to his side of the desk. 

“You know,” you began. “I really shouldn’t be drinking on the job. And especially not with my boss.”

Now closer, you could see his lined face begin to flush. The alcohol’s influence, of course, but also your body’s proximity. Not a coincidence that you’d worn the shortest shirt and tightest shirt that you could get away with today. 

“Believe me, I’m not tattling,” Saul said, putting his hands up in a “you got me” gesture, but his eyes were fixed directly on your chest.

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not accusing you of anything,” you hummed, tapping at the arm of his chair. “But still. Maybe it’d be better if I have a story in case someone asks me about it.” 

Emboldened by the alcohol now coursing through your system, you lowered yourself onto his lap, one heeled foot keeping yourself grounded. You swore you could see the stars exploding in his eyes; you knew this was what he’d wanted since day one. 

You put a saccharine voice on, thickening it with innocence. “Oh, but I swear, I didn’t want to drink it. He practically poured it down my throat,” you purred, placing a hand on his chest. 

“So that’s your angle? Sleazy boss got you drunk to cop a feel?” Saul asked, eyes darkening, but now he brought the glass to your lips, which you parted immediately. “He sounds like a real piece of work.” 

You smirk. “He is.” 

Saul tipped the glass’ contents into your mouth, scotch splashing across your tongue and down your throat as you swallowed as much as you could, the excess bubbling over your lips and soaking the front of your shirt. His other hand held your jaw in place, fingers a little too rough against the soft of your cheek. 

As he withdrew the glass, you made a big show of licking your lips to catch the leftover drops, then captured your bottom lip between your teeth, waiting for him to make the next move. 

Saul patted your cheek, the warm metal of his ring knocking against bone. 

“Good girl,” he said lowly. His hand slid up the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. His thick fingers knotted in your hair, tugging ever so gently. 

“Thank you, sir,” you replied with a sharp intake of breath at the tug. 

Upon hearing the title, he let out a groan and pulled you towards him, mouths meeting messily. The taste of malt liquor mingled on both of your lips as you panted into each other, high pitched keening from you and small whines from the back of his throat. 

His other hand snaked down to grasp at your ass, collecting a generous handful and using it to hoist you closer to his body, his hips jerking up to roll against your thigh as the kiss deepened. 

“You’ve been–killing me–all, hah, all week,” Saul moaned through the kiss. “Your fuckin’--your body, the looks you give me, the–the goddamn pen biting.”

You laughed, which turned into a whimper as he worked a hand under your bra. “I told you–you were gonna have to try harder.”

“Well, Jesus, shit–If I’d known all that meant was getting drunk and–callin’ ya a good girl, hell–” he groaned as you ran a hand down his stomach and palmed his erection– “I woulda done it way sooner.” 

You kissed him again to get him to stop talking–he was cute, but more so when he knew when to shut up. All you really wanted to hear at the moment were his overwhelmed whines as you worked at his cock.

You had, what, one more week here? You’d already wasted the first with petty flirts and pretend prudence–you hoped Saul was okay with you rescheduling his meetings, because you were going to use the rest of your employment wisely.

[plenilune]

what a weird year it's been! this time last year I remember being so high on not wanting to die for the first time in years that I was ecstatic to greet 2023 and find out what I could do in it -- I don't feel that way this year, buffetted about by circumstance and my stupid human body and brain, but I don't feel defeated. I feel like I made a good first pass at a piece of work and now I'm going to take a hack at another draft. I made some good ground. not all the ground I was hoping to make, but a lot I wasn't expecting. I feel good about my ability to keep building a life and a self I can be more and more joyful to occupy.

I tried a lot of new things and some of them didn't work but most of them did. I said yes to a lot of weird shit. I had so many experiences this year. I'm glad I spent a night dancing and smoking on the fire escape outside a masonic lodge and being absolutely drenched in rain. I'm glad Corey and I went on a gorgeous queer group ride with a bunch of other queer cyclists through the streets of our favourite parts of northern Kentucky and then bicycled back home together. I'm glad I had a not-quite-one-night stand and bused home as the sun rose golden and alive and lovely. I'm glad I re-learned the importance of dancing at clubs until I can barely move. I'm glad I saw Oldboy in the cinema and was so adrenalised that I jumped up and down on the sidewalk and screamed waiting for my bus home. I started painting back patches and sewing things onto my clothing and making jewellery and collaging and cropping all my tshirts and sweaters.

I started writing again .god, I started writing again.

and I broke my phone, my glasses, and my computer and struggled financially and took a nightmarish disaster trip to Philadelphia for my grandmother's funeral and I lost access to meds for reasons that were completely my own fault and thus sunk into a mire of depression and fatigue for several months that could have been completely avoided. I struggled to connect to people and struggled to feed myself and been a goddamn wreck. I didn't really accomplish most of the things I thought I was going to, that I started with eagerness and energy at the beginning of the year.

but hell. I built some shit. now I can keep building on top of it. I feel like a completely different person sometimes now, with different possibilities. I fucked up and lost and careened into walls of bad luck over and over this year but I feel better for and about it than I have in a long time. okay, that's new muscles. okay okay okay. new page, new draft, we can go again.

anyway. this year I want to push forward more deliberately on some of the stuff I found out I could do this year -- obviously I am continuing to work on my goddamn space heist book, but also specifically pursue block printing, drag/burlesque, bass, and making zines in 2024 instead of just experimenting with them. bicycle more, cook more, invest in people more, Not Go Off My Meds At Any Point, play more video games, watch more films. (I watched over sixty this year! after barely watching films for so long I didn't know what my own taste was any more, and feeling the shame and confusion of having once been a kid who wanted to go to film school but didn't know what movies they liked any more.)

anyway. here's to all of you who have kept me alive and interested in the world this year. my beloved partner is making arriabbiata and playing jazz in the next room. I have to work first thing tomorrow but tonight I'm going to finish the first season of Better Call Saul and poke at my novel and the day after tomorrow I'm going to have tea and listen to music and sew patches onto my jacket and best flannel. I'm going to keep finding new things to be alive for. I'm going to create a self I want to live inside. I'm excited to know what things are going to happen to me in 2024. I'm excited to learn about new ways to feel joy.

goodnight, 2023. you were a mess and I loved you more often than I didn't.

[catgirlforeskin]

What are your top 5 shows? (Just out of curiosity)

I’ll narrow this to live action “prestige tv” type stuff for simplicity’s sake, in no particular order

Andor: yeah I’m not happy about a Disney Star Wars show being on here either, it unfortunately is extremely good

Game of Thrones: yes it got so so bad at the end but it’s still the king of prestige tv imo. I’ll give an honorable mention to house of the dragon even though it also fumbled terribly at the end with the newest season

Generation Kill: preferred the book but I still think it’s very good. Honorable mention to band of brothers and less honorable mention to The Pacific, the three get bundled as HBO war drama to me, but generation kill does the most thematically/is the more interesting to me. The book is definitely more coherent in it and doesn’t pull punches in critique of US imperialism and its facilitators the way the show does sometimes (though the show hits you over the head more with the point of the ending so eh)

Chernobyl: same casting director as Andor and you can feel it! The director is a little bit lib but I think generally a lot of people got the wrong takeaway from the show, and it was more prescient than it knew it would be given covid happened shortly after, instead of the intended allegory of climate change (which is of course still perpetually happening)

was unsure whether to give this slot to Severance or Midnight Mass, Midnight Mass is a miniseries and kinda fizzles out at the end imo but it’s very much a “you GOTTA go in blind” and I’m glad I did, Severance is good so far but I’m cautious about how the new season’ll be

I’m sure people’ll go wtf how are you gonna talk about prestige tv and not mention breaking bad/better call saul/ the sopranos/ mad men etc, I like Fargo, none of these are bad I’m just personally not at all interested in “what if a guy in the US suburbs was kinda Fucked Up 😈” shows. We’ve had enough. Stop making them

[tomurderornottomurder]

i don't want to talk; saul goodman

pair. saul goodman x gn!reader

summ. you and your boss are kidnapped cartel style and have a somewhat quiet moment after

gen. angst, hurt minimal comfort

wc. 1.8k+

tw. breaking bad related themes, kidnapping, guns, blood, descriptions of injuries, focus on mouth injuries, death mentions,

note. i still need to finish better call saul. old draft but i really like it.

Your wrists are freshly raw from the rope they had been bound with. You rub at them with your fingers as you twist them around, trying to massage the marks away. You sit in the arid desert on the dry, sandy ground. Your expensive, secondhand suit will suffer from the harsh minerals rubbing against the fine material. Your cheeks should be stained with tears yet none had come even face to barrel with a gun larger than the hand holding it. You were resilient in the moment, strong and silent, something you hadn't been able to be before, yet while facing death, you could finally be. Your disposition was for nothing though as you had made it out alive and yes, you were grateful but what's amazing about standing your ground and living?

The red marks on your wrists remain despite all the effort and you can only manage to sigh in disappointment. Footsteps sound behind you and you have to fight back the violent urge to turn and see who's coming. If it's your captors, goodbye; if it's your boss, well, who knows? Some would argue that it was his fault you were here but you know better, you always have. You didn't blame him and he shouldn't blame himself either, you doubt he would admit such a thing out loud anyway. You were kidnapped together, bound behind the back, bags over your heads; the whole shebang. Even behind you two, a grave dug just big enough to fit your rotting corpses but shallow so as to not show respect. What was respectable about either of you? There was nothing. There was nothing.

The footfalls stop just beside you and in a quick second, you hear the familiar groans of the older man. Saul Goodman, your boss, and he was sitting with his legs crossed like a kindergartener. You almost couldn't believe it but then again, Saul has done more unimaginable things. You look over at him, careful to not look anywhere near his face. You see his legs all crossed and his socks that peak out, you could laugh at them if you hadn't just been threatened with a barrel pressed against the roof of your mouth. You notice how high his pants come up as he sits like that, how his belt looks -too smooth to be real leather and too tacky of metal to be anything valuable. You notice the small scuff marks on his shoes that could only be from today and you wonder why his shoes are so nice and expensive but his belt isn't. You don't say anything though. (Why would you?) 

"Hey-" Saul tries to speak, genuinely too, you can tell.

You snap, "I don't want-" You lose your fire immediately, you can't even finish the damn sentence; he knows what you mean anyway. There's something in your heart that can't be mean to him. Not even now. Not after feeling the cool metal of your kidnapper's gun against your tongue and tasting your blood after your captor hit you with it. Not after sitting in the blaring heat of the sun in the middle of the desert in nowheresville USA with your arms bound behind your back and the heat weaving through your skin, waiting to coil up and take your life like the very snakes that called this place home. Not after all of that can you manage to be mean. 

You don't wonder if Saul feels bad. He does. Of course. He scoots closer, his arm touching yours. He doesn't want to freak you out. He doesn't care that much about you. You're his employee, not much more. But a shiny, purple bruise has a glare that some people -people like him- can't ignore. Right there on the left side of your face, surrounding your eye is the deepest purple Saul has ever laid his eyes on. Marks litter the bridge of your nose and it's starting to swell. Your mouth is worst of all. Blood will not stop rushing past your lips, there are cuts all over inside, a tooth was knocked out in the chaos, your tongue was cut (even just the littlest thing makes it bleed so much), and your lips are raw and scratched. It looks like someone let an animal loose inside your mouth. It's horrible. 

Saul watched it happen. Them, the people who kidnapped you both, shove a gun into your mouth like it belonged there. Twist it around and threaten you as Saul pleaded with them doing what he always does and striking a deal, persuading the audience, getting them on his side, trying to save someone; someone who he had gotten into this mess, someone he cared about -even the littlest bit. You got hit repeatedly, swung at with the gun or knuckles, a mix of the two, or a kick to the ribs. You didn't let out anything. Not a single word. You let Saul do the talking. You took the punches. That was your job in this little operation. Maybe that was always what was supposed to happen. 

You can't shake the metal that had been in your mouth. You can't shake closing your eyes and making peace and just being quiet and waiting. You don't even know what you were waiting for. Death or release or life after all of this? Freedom or pity or indentured servitude? Sweet peace or life-long guilt? It wasn't fathomable. It wouldn't be for years. 

You almost jump at the touch. Saul's finger graces your bruise. You hold back a hiss and you wonder what he's doing. There are things you know and there are things you wonder about. Saul's touch not feeling like fire against your skin is something you can only wonder about, you will never understand that -for lack of a better term- relief. You sit silently with your legs bent in front of you and your back straight waiting. For death, release, or sweet, sweet peace. You can't choose in this one. Freely, your fate is decided by one Saul Goodman. You trust him enough for that yet you wouldn't trust him with your car keys. 

You don't want to look at his face, especially not his eyes. You know what happens if you do. You can't deal with that right now. He makes that mission difficult. He takes his fingers off your bruise and places his thumb at your nose. In a strange way, it was like a medical examination or at least with the precision of one. Like he was assessing you for damage. Maybe not so medical-like after all. You wouldn't expect less from him. It almost makes you smile. He was tallying up his losses. Smart move, you think. 

He reassigns his thumb to swiping blood from your chin even as it still dribbles out. Your poor mouth; all beat up for the senselessness of it. He wants to examine your mouth, maybe see what exactly is going on in there but he finds himself at a loss (funnily enough). He can't see this looking very good. He can't imagine how you'd interpret it and he's at a crossroads. Maybe he should talk to you? But that directly disobeys your earlier word. But he's the boss? Who tells him what to do? You, you, of course. 

He's yet to see your tears from this. A normal person would be concerned. A normal person is no Saul Goodman. 

The blood seems to stop at least flowing out of your mouth but inside is a whole other story. He wipes his your-blood-stained thumb against his already bloodied shirt. His head turns as the wheels of your captors' vehicle squeak and kick up dirt creating clouds of shit he'd rather not inhale and neither would you. He flips open his phone, one bar, good enough. He flips the phone closed. He's not so scared anymore.

What you'll think of him he cannot say nor can he decide and maybe that's good. You should have your own feelings about him, he couldn't stand it if they weren't yours. Maybe he could for a while but that's not forever, it's temporary and fake; stale like potato chips that have sat in your kitchen for months now with the bag open and you mean to throw them out, you really do, but you never quite get around to it and they are always, always just left there in the end. Your feelings for him couldn't be stale potato chips. 

Maybe he should have thought it through better but those clouds of dust must have gotten to him because he presses his thumb against your bottom lip and he doesn't say anything or give you any sort of look, you just open your mouth. It's like an active warzone inside. There's blood here and a cut there, some deep indent northbound, and an empty space where a tooth should be. Your raw lip does not feel good against his thumb. He hates it actually but it stays there for a good long moment as he totals the loss of your mouth. It was like a bomb exploded and he was picking up the missing limbs. His mind entertains the idea of what you'd look like with a gold tooth, he doesn't like it. 

He lets his thumb off your lip like letting a foot off the gas and then there's eye contact. Yours meet his, his meet yours. You look empty. You look like you're about to cry. He couldn't blame you. He was probably going to go home and cry about all of this later. 

He pulls all of his limbs away from you and against himself as he sits at your side. He doesn't look at you or turn his head. He feels your head rest against his shoulder and it's like he's allowed to breathe. He lets out a deep sigh like he's been absolved of all sins. He's quiet. He hears your sobs. They are deep and powerful sobs that he can tell you need to let out. He wraps his arm around your back, maybe even holding you a little closer. 

The sun's harsh glare washes over you both. The air is dry and humid and the horizon is baking. It's like you're in an oven. You've been kidnapped and shrunk and placed in an oven with your boss because life is cruel and why shouldn't you be trapped in an oven? But you're not. Kuby is on his way to pick you both up and you're never going to speak about it again. Saul will not mention the gun in your mouth or the crying. You will not speak thanks to said gun in the mouth and you won't care to regale anyone on how you were kidnapped and beaten up and left to cry on your boss' shoulder because why would you? 

[finsterwalds]

Got a very inspired ask inquiring about the villains in my Better Call Saul french AU so here's Gus aka famous chef Gustavo Faure and his main waiter Léo haha. More info under the cut as always...

So at first I thought about making Gus a fast-food owner like his canon counterpart, but it just doesn't fit really well if you wanna frenchify it all with nuance. We have fast-foods ofc and we do enjoy fried chicken lol, but Los Pollos Hermanos has this very distinct "patriotic" feeling that wouldn't translate as well in France, as fast-foods are american in conception. I thought about making Gus the owner of some cheaper chain like Courtepaille lmao, but it feels too memey and doesn't have the prestige that his character has canonically. Gus assimilates perfectly into american society with his brand, and caters to the people locally, so I thought it would be fair for him to do the same in France. And if you wanna cater to lovers of chic, gastronomy and prestige, what's better than being the chef of some fancy restaurant, right? It felt cliché af and looses the "close to the people" part but it honestly fits his character well, imo...

He would be extremely respected locally but still friendly and approachable due to him crafting some kind of tragic backstory for himself and his restaurant. Basically he would play the "Chilean refugee that climbed to the top of foreign cuisine" card and everyone would buy it. French people love to eat and are fond of mixing their culture's meals with more international food, so yes: I think he would serve a fusion of french/Chilean food!

He'd also be an entrepreneur as famous french chefs often have side businesses like bakeries or published books, which I think respects his canon personality pretty well. Fancy french chefs also like to hang out outside their kitchen to greet their guests and I can totally imagine Gus do that. He'd still be able to conceal his shady side nicely. He's canonically seen to like fine wine, good products, and cooks Paila Marina for Walt, so congrats to Gus for already being french in conception and not making this idea feel like a stretch lol.

I have no idea about his exact role concerning drug traffic in Europe, as I said I'm pretty ignorant about that… But he'd use his business and image to form connections and launder his money. His backstory with Max stays the same in the AU aka Max was his business """"partner""" who died killed by the Salamancas.

I don't think changing his first name was necessary, but his last name sounding american I thought I would just frenchify it a bit lol. I don't know what the name of his restaurant would be, but definitely something short, spanish, and aesthetic/poetic. Maybe a reference to Max to allude to the Hermanos part.

Bonus : I know they don't canonically meet, but in my AU I think Chuck, as a rich lawyer, would eat at Gustavo's often. They'd be acquainted :) And maybe Jérôme aka Jimmy meets him thru his brother and later discovers Gus' shady side, when the events of BrBa start.