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#anyway tuco
sourquips · 1 year
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rewatching brba and tuco was just introduced i want him so bad
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probably-impossible · 7 months
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Tuco gives the answers to questions Angel Eyes didn't even ask.
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meme-streets · 3 months
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the plague of better call saul nepo babies is rampant!
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ratty9boy · 9 months
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Dollars fandom event day 1: Meeting
The man who called himself Angel Eyes could appreciate a good saloon. He liked whiskey, though this wasn't quite up to his standards, and he generally preferred to enjoy it in private rather than surrounded by a crowd of loud, noisy people--but the people were of course the main draw of the place. He studied them, their clothes and mannerisms, amusing himself by guessing where they lived and what they did, ending finally with the man sitting down the bar from him, the man he was deliberately not interacting with--yet.
He wasn't important, but in a world full of unpleasant people he had a special skill for unpleasantness, and a certain lack of self preservation instinct which had led him to antagonize a man who could afford Angel Eyes' payment. For all his swagger he was fairly boring.
Angel Eyes wouldn't attack here--too many people who might interfere, too many witnesses. Messy. But he'd watch, he'd find out where he was staying, and then he'd plan his move. Already by listening to his conversation with his friends he'd found out exactly how long he was in town, and where he was heading after. Angel Eyes considered ambushing him in the desert when he left, but he didn't feel like waiting a full three days for that opportunity. He was sure he could find a good opening sooner. Maybe he'd make it a little challenging for himself on purpose. Make it interesting.
He was idly considering the pros and cons of using a knife versus a gun when the man's head snapped to the side in a spray of red. Angel Eyes jerked upright on his stool. He'd almost missed it. A perfect shot, nailed him right through the temple and out one eye socket. He noted the broken bottle on the wall behind the bar, the rum now spilling off the shelf. Meanwhile, the man's quicker or more foolhardy friend had spun around and reached for his gun and also, unsurprisingly, been shot. Angel Eyes watched him slump to the ground and admired the perfectly centered bullet hole in his forehead.
The man's third friend sensibly took his hand away from his gun, and for a moment the shooting paused.
The shooter laughed. He wore no holster--interesting. Perhaps he appreciated the stealth of keeping his gun hidden in a pocket, or perhaps he couldn't be bothered. He wore light clothes, dusty from the road, wild dark hair clinging to his sweaty forehead. Probably Mexican, probably one of the local bandits. Angel Eyes didn't think he was wanted yet in an official capacity (though maybe today's stunt would finally get his face on a poster) and hadn't bothered to research him.
"Smart! Alright, you can live," he said, waggling his gun at the last survivor of the now-defunct conversation Angel Eyes had been spying on for the past half hour. Interesting. Angel Eyes would have shot him.
The man got up and slunk out, a bit shaky-kneed, following the shooter's prompting gun gestures--he handled it quite flippantly for someone with his level of skill. Then he turned his attention to the rest of the crowd, now huddled in shocked silence.
"Alright, you too! Everybody out! Not you," he pointed at the bartender.
The saloon emptied rapidly. Angel Eyes was surprised nobody tried to exit a window. He sat at the bar and watched the shooter, who was watching the person stampede in amusement.
When he turned, Angel Eyes and the petrified bartender were the only others left in the building. He seemed surprised by Angel Eyes.
"You like danger, huh?" he asked, subtly adjusting his grip on his revolver.
Angel Eyes contemplated the thin ring of liquor still clinging to the bottom of his otherwise empty glass and set it down on the bar with a quiet thump. "Buy me a drink."
The shooter's eyebrows raised. He considered this for several moments, then stepped to the stool one down from Angel Eyes, nudging the body out of the way with his foot. "Two," he said, waving his gun at the bartender.
Angel Eyes took his drink and toasted to him. "Much obliged."
The shooter took a gulp of his own drink. "You like this?"
Angel Eyes shrugged. "I've had worse."
"Look, you take what you can get out here--" the bartender started, before apparently remembering who he was talking to and cutting himself off.
"Quite right," smiled Angel Eyes. He let his drink rest on the bar and leaned slightly towards the shooter. "Now, that man you just shot--"
"Which one?" the shooter grinned.
"The first. He'd upset a rich man. I imagine he upset you, too, at least he was egalitarian about it."
"Ewhat."
"My point is, I was planning to collect money for killing him."
"Ah! That's funny, I got here first! Well, pay me half and I'll let you say you did it."
Angel Eyes laughed. The sound was like something breaking, and the room became, somehow, quieter than before. "No. When I'm paid, I always follow through. But I don't take payment for a job I didn't do. It's just professional pride, you understand."
The shooter looked at him without comprehension. "You don't want the money?"
"I want you to compensate me for claiming my kill."
"HA! I did your job for you and now you want me to pay?"
"Careful," said Angel Eyes to the bartender, who had started to reach for something out of sight, and who immediately froze in a very suspicious manner.
"That better be a bottle you're reaching for, señor," said the shooter, reaching behind the bar.
The bartender raised his hands and backed away.
The shooter pulled an old musket out from behind the bar, laughed derisively and tossed it to the floor.
"Well. Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere, before the rest of the town arms themselves," said Angel Eyes, finishing his drink and standing.
"What is there to discuss? I'm not paying you for doing your job, you should pay me," the shooter grumbled, but grumbled on his way to the door.
Angel Eyes paused in the doorway to look down the street. No posse just yet. He took a moment to light his pipe, then turned and shot the bartender.
"What was he going to do?" the shooter asked, staring.
Angel Eyes shrugged, smiled, and beckoned Tuco towards the horses.
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etwlemons · 5 months
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Star child★
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fredoesque · 10 months
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the thing about pablo is he's not antigone-coded. but he will be
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malhare-archive · 8 months
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Being into crime dramas is hilarious because you'll casually think about different character's favorite execution methods like that's a normal headcanon to have
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howabhwmwn · 2 years
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That one Johnlock fanfic where John accidentally texts Sherlock and then they fall in love except its Tuco and Chuck and they dont fall in love but develope a weird disturbing friendship that only works because they interpret each others texts wrong.
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starbuck · 2 years
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he’s the king! (of my heart)
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probably-impossible · 6 months
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It's an older vine, sir, but it checks out.
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meme-streets · 1 year
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the thing that's always struck me about tuco talking to blondie about his brother is the way he frames it as something he doesn't deserve. he says "even a tramp like me" and the way he describes how caring/affectionate pablo with this kind of almost incredulity in his voice, as if it's something amazing & hard to believe–and of course it's not (entirely) true, but that's besides the point–so it comes across to me as having this subtext of "isn't it incredible that he could love and forgive someone as awful and undeserving of me." cause i really think tuco feels like he deserves his brother hating him.
and the more i think about it: he's not trying to make himself look good when he talks about how good their relationship is. he kind of implicitly undermines himself, even. he's trying to make pablo look good. he's talking him up as kind and loving and forgiving nearly to a fault. almost as if he can "make up for" what he'd said. i'd go so far as to say it has kind of a religious subtext to me, with pablo being a priest and also with blondie as the "protecting angel," as if tuco's trying to cover his brother's ass and claim "hey, look, don't hold it against him, he didn't really mean all that."
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The power dynamics between Walter and Tuco is crazy. It's a tense, constant, ongoing battle for who has the upper hand. I could make a whole analysis about just the dynamic between the two of them if it weren't for the fact that I'm 14 years late to the fandom and it's 3am.
Like. Tuco is such a live wire, he goes from laughing and joking around to screaming and spitting at people, you never know when he's gonna turn around and bite you, nobody is safe around him.
Then enter Walter White who realizes that he does have an upper hand in some situations. He had the upper hand when he was holding his explosive mercury, and even when he was short on product he knew he was selling them something they didn't wanna lose and managed to get more money than he had drugs for.
And he was unpredictable the whole time!! He gave them less than what they wanted, then suddenly asked for 70k, but then decided to compromise, but then offered them even more than he originally did for the next week. Like you suddenly never know what to expect from him!
But the whole time he's calm. He's not pretending to be larger than life, he's not going out of his way to intimidate, but he's not going out of his way to show emotion either; compassion, anger, etc. There's inherent weakness in letting your emotions get the better of you. Tuco uses his anger to intimidate people, but Walter being calm the whole time makes Tuco look like he's throwing a tantrum at times in comparison.
Maybe this henchman guy was right to try and intimidate Walter... I have a feeling that Tuco's not gonna be holding all this power over Walter's head for much longer...
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hi tuco (not hector) its me im your biggest fan can i get some drugs
tuco get to work
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fredoesque · 11 months
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writing blondie pov is turning out to be really funny but also kind of impossible bc. that man does NOT want to narrate. he does not want to impart information of any kind he does not want to SPEAK. except to lie
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