#kim wexler voice picture it... REALLY picture it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shawtygonemad · 1 year

Text

Fanfic Advent Calendar 2022 - Day 23/24: Sweet Substitute

Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman x Reader

Angst & Mild 🌶Spicy Sauce🌶

Prompt: "You've got whipped cream on your *insert favorite body part*."

Advent Calendar Masterlist

The warm air hit my face as I exited the car. Fifty degrees on Christmas Eve still felt weird to me. However, seeing the bare ground made me yearn for the snow of Washington, where I grew up. Very rarely have I ever seen snow in Albuquerque. The feeling of the cold wetness could almost be felt on my face if I closed my eyes. Next year I'll have to take Saul back home to experience it with me.

Speaking of, I needed to pick up his Christmas gift from the office. You'd think this would be the last place I'd hide a gift since he's here almost everyday. Luckily, I had the perfect place for it. Just as I was unlocking the front door, my phone rang. It was the man himself.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone as I opened the door and stepped inside, quickly turning off the alarm system.

"Hey! Where are you at?" Saul's soothing voice came through the speaker.

"I had to run to the office to pick up your gift," I replied.

"You hid it at the office?! Where?" He asked surprised.

"The last place you'd look," I chuckled as I rounded the front counter.

"Francesca's desk," he sighed in defeat.

"Bingo!" I happily cheer at his correct answer.

I picked up the wrapped box from the drawer and set it on the counter.

"Hey, while you're there would you be able to grab my briefcase? I left it on my desk. Oh! And my work phone. See if we got any messages on it."

"You want me to work on Christmas Eve?" I narrowed my eyes.

"No! But you know we have some high profile clients that tend to call at all hours," Saul chuckled.

"I am not letting Walter White ruin our Christmas together," I stated.

"He won't, I promise. Now hurry up and bring your perky little ass home to me. I have a surprise for you," He trailed off with lust entering his voice.

"Yeah?" I purred while letting my voice dip into a sultry tone. "I'll be quick then."

I hung up as excitement started to swirl within me. Saul always know the right things to say to me. He treated me right. Something I could never say about anyone until now. Plus that man was an amazing lover. He always got off on getting me off. I needed to hurry so I could get home to him.

Briskly, I entered his office. The briefcase was on his desk, as he said. The phone, however, was a bit of a challenge to track down. It wasn't in the usual places he left it. Thankfully, a soft buzzing sound could be heard through the silence. I followed the noise to a discarded suit jacket haphazardly tossed on the couch. It was still buzzing as I pulled it out. The caller ID made my heart still. Kim Wexler.

Saul's ex-wife. I've been friends with Saul a long time. Back when he went by Jimmy McGill. So I was around for the time period he and Kim were on again off again. Personally, I didn't think she was good for Jimmy. But that could just be my own feelings talking.

I've always had a thing for the man and was beyond thrilled when he wanted to start hooking up. I thought he reciprocated my feelings. Unfortunately, every time Kim came back into the picture, I was tossed aside. It had become very clear to me that I was the rebound. The substitute for the woman he was really in love with. I called things off with him until he finally decided what he really wanted. Unfortunately, Kim made that decision for him when she moved away to start her own firm separate from Jimmy's.

I was there to pick up the pieces of his heart she had left shattered behind. He was a wreck and had no one there to help piece him together besides me. During that time, I guess Jimmy realized that I was truly the only one there for him. He claimed that he wanted no one else but me. So we gave it another shot, and things have been happy ever since. Until now.

When I gathered the courage to answer the phone, it was already too late and went to the voice-mail. With gritted teeth and a new angry fire within, I listened to the voice-mail. What the hell could she possibly have left to say after breaking this man's heart. She has another thing coming if she thinks he'll just come running right back to her.

"Hey Jimmy! I'm just returning your call. I'd love to have lunch with you on Monday. Though noon doesn't work for me, so how about 1:30? Call me back."

My heart sank. Returning your call. He was the one who had reached out to her first. He was setting up a lunch date with her. Why? Why would he do this? I thought we were happy. Everything had been going so well between us and with the law firm! Why am I never good enough for him? What the hell does Kim Wexler have that I don't?

Angst soured my mood as I got into the car and drove to our shared apartment. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I tried to come up with something to say to him. After everything I've done for him, he still runs back to her. Well, that was the last time I'll ever piece him back together. I will no longer allow this man to use me and toy with my feelings. It's over.

A muffled sob left my lips when the thought crossed my mind. I didn't want it to be over. It had been so good. I loved this man more than I have with anyone else. But I had to do this. I couldn't keep living this way. I deserved to be with someone who wanted me, always and forever.

I wiped the tears away when I parked the car. A deep breath heaved through my chest before I put on a stone cold face. I'm going to go up there, pack, and tell him it's over. Nothing will change my mind. Not even his cute little puppy dog eyes he likes to use when I'm upset with him. My mind has been made up.

My legs felt like cinder blocks as I drug myself up to our apartment. After another breath, I unlocked the door and stepped inside. I tried my best not to look at the pictures of us happily together that littered the walls. My mind couldn't be changed. This needed to be done.

Soft Christmas music could be heard from the bedroom. A faint yellow glow was seen through the cracked doorway. My anger flaired again as I was reminded that it was Christmas Eve. How dare he put me through this today of all days. My favorite holiday was about to be ruined.

I flung the hall closet open and grabbed my suitcase from the top shelf. Aggressively, I pulled it down to me with a huff. The noise must have caught Saul's attention.

"Y/N?" He called softly from the bedroom.

I ignored him as I burst through the door with my suitcase in hand. Tossing it open on the floor, I started to briskly walk through the room and grab anything I saw of mine. Without caring, I tossed it into the open case of the floor.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked slightly concerned.

I spun around to tell him off. Before speaking, I took in the situation. Saul must have planned for a spicy night in with the music, glow of the candles, and the fact that he was nude on the bed. His soft cream skin was in full view. Those brown curly chest hairs I loved to lay my head upon. And my favorite part of him was still standing up in salute. A salute that was coated in foreign white substance.

"You've got whipped cream on your dick," I said blankly before turning back around to the task at hand.

I couldn't look at him. If I did, then the chances of me caving in were to rise. I needed to stay strong. The bed springs could be heard as Saul got up from the bed and approached me.

"Why are you packing? Where are you going?" Saul asked, getting more nervous the more I packed.

"I think we both know the answer to that," I snapped.

"No, I don't. Mind filling me in?" His concerned voice started to get a hint of annoyance in it.

"I'm just making things easier for you, so you'll have nothing to worry about when you have lunch with Kim on Monday. She says that noon doesn't work for her and that 1:30 will be better," I spat.

A deep sigh left the man as he pinched his index finger and thumb against the bridge of his nose. No doubt a headache was starting to form for him.

"Y/N, it's not what it sounds like," he tried to reason.

"No, I think it sounds exactly like it is," I growled as I turned to face him. "She's back in your life and you're just going to toss me to the side."

"Would you stop jumping to conclusions for once!" He shouted in frustration. "It's not like that anymore. You're the only one I want."

"Then what are you doing getting lunch with her then, hmm?"

"To sign the divorce papers."

That caught me off guard. I blinked at him in shock.

"What?"

"She never signed the divorce papers when she left. When I heard she'd be in town, I figured this would be the perfect time to have her sign them. I'd be a free man." He hesitated before grabbing my hands in his and looking me in the eyes. "I'd be able to be with you completely. And if one day we want to tie the knot, then we wouldn't have any issues."

"So you're not leaving me?" My voice quivered.

"No. I promise I'm never leaving you again. You're the only one I want. I love you, Y/N."

I was stunned, to say the least. He did this all for us, for me? I just didn't know what to say. I loved this man so much and am relieved it wasn't what I feared. He really did change. I'm speechless. So I said, and did, the only thing that impulsively came to mind.

"You're getting whipped cream all over the carpet," I told him as I locked eyes with him.

Very slowly, without breaking eye contact, I sunk down to my knees. Saul was confused at first since we were in the middle of what he assumed was a fight. Everything clicked, and his eyes rolled back in pleasure when I licked a strip up the side of his dick.

"I'm sorry for overreacting, and almost ruining Christmas," I quietly said in between licks.

"Mmhh, I'm sorry... for mm... making you feel that way," Saul panted in pleasure.

I smiled as I took him completely in my mouth and hummed at the sweet and salty taste of the dissolving whipped cream.

This was just the first of the many new Christmas memories we'd have together in the future.

#romance #saul goodman x reader #saul goodman x y/n #better call saul fanfiction #better call saul fanfic #saul goodman #breaking bad fanfic #breaking bad fanfiction #breaking bad #better call saul #jimmy mcgill x y/n #jimmy mcgill x you #jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill x reader #saul goodman x you

117 notes · View notes

jimmymcchill · 2 years

Text

okay i NEED to vent because i am worried sick about kim. this will contain major spoilers but i am gonna tag them, so don't worry. from this moment on, DON'T READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED 607.

when howard came to their house, it almost felt like jimmy was the one who was feeling at least a bit bad for him — especially when he mentioned his failing marriage, maybe because his relationship with kim has never been stronger? i thought to myself 'how much can kim take without even flinching? how much can she compartmentalize?'. people complained that this season had been too slow (i don't feel that way but whatever), but i feel like the writers made sure that every little thing she had said and thought and felt ever since something unforgivable needed planning, and detail, and caution, to finally come to THIS moment. the moment when you viewer no longer doubt: kim is unstoppable. she controls her conscience, her conscience doesn't control her. she was utterly and completely terrifying.

but i knew lalo was coming. you know, la cucaracha. and that murder in cold blood... how will it impact jimmy, who had already seen death and had been traumatized by it, and it wasn't the violent end of someone he had known for years? how will it impact kim? because let me tell you, the parallels between her and lalo were INSANE in this episode, the whole teaser was basically lalo reenacting s3 kim's routine — the shower, sleeping in the car... same work ethic if you will. will she become more and more ruthless, like lalo? is that what they are trying to tell us? that she will compartmentalize this trauma as well, and it will only harden her? or will she take another u-turn and be crushed by it? will this be the moment when she awakens from her god complex and realize what she's done? she was the one begging howard to go away when lalo arrived, after all — jimmy was of course out of his mind, he thought the guy was super dead.

we used to think of kim as the voice of reason, now she's a woman of extremes.

and a woman deep, deep in the game. it's lalo who said he needed to talk to his LAWYERS, plural. she's in it, and either she'll understand they made a deal with the devil and they are forever tainted by their actions, or she'll raise hell herself. judging from the wine and roses movie foreshadowing and the importance of her agency, i'd put money on the second one, if i really had to.

it's just... howard was right. she had a piece missing. but, in a a certain way and another sense, i think she found that same piece. the piece she decided to lose as a kid, and kept hidden for so long. it's the adrenaline. it's the scam. it's power. it's her and jimmy against the world, making their rules. i can't picture kim wexler giving that, giving anything up.

#thanks for coming to my ted talk #now i have a whole day of crying scheduled #I HAVE BOOKS TO STUDY #instead all i can think about is: kim.#please babe be okay #PLEASE #bcs #better call saul #bcs s6 spoilers #bcs s6 #bcs spoilers #kim wexler #jimmy mcgill #saul goodman #mcwexler

59 notes · View notes

thekimspoblog · 10 months

Text

"Sheepdog" (AKA the Kim Wexler Pregnancy fic) Chapter 4: "The Living Blood"

Kim’s back was against the wall. She just realized she’d taken the fire exit. Good! Whatever silent alarm she’d just tripped, let the courthouse sort it out! She was just so hurt and scared and angry, and they couldn’t see her cry! No matter what happened, don’t let them see her cry…

Someone else had been standing here not too long ago. A squashed cigarette butt on the pavement still had 2 small embers glowing. Kim did her best to hold her jacket over her augmented body; she couldn’t linger here; the last thing she needed was a public indecency charge on top of everything else. Storm clouds were gathering as she got into her car. Raindrops started pelting her exposed midriff. God damnit! This pregnancy, or alien parasite, or ancient Egyptian curse or WHATEVER was happening to her, it had popped three of the buttons clean off her blouse. Admittedly, not the biggest concern at present, sure, but god dammit! This too?

She’d be half an hour early to see her GP about this arising circumstance, but all things considered, she obviously should have seen a doctor this morning. What had happened in court was her fault really, her punishment for thinking she could brute-force her way back into making today feel normal. Either way, there wasn’t time to waste kicking herself about it. She felt sick, but she didn’t feel sickly. It was time to get some answers about this; beginning with whether this transformation was going to kill her and if not, how was that possible?

…

Our heroine sat as still as a statue on the examination table, and still the paper covering found excuses to start shredding itself under her. She called Jimmy- Just like she promised she would.

“Hey…” the warmth of his voice carried through over the phone.

“Hey” she sniffled, “I made it to the appointment. I’m just letting you know where I am”

“Are you crying?”

“Hormones,” she brushed it off, “It’s just really nice to hear your voice. I had a bad day at work. Like Chernobyl bad. I’ll tell you about it when I get home. If I can stand to, that is”

“You know, I was planning to work until 5…” Jimmy offered, “But I can be there with you if you want. All I’ve got is two skin-heads and a botched tattoo removal settlement”

“Aw, aren’t you chivalrous…” Kim smirked but her eyes wandered back to her briefcase, and the comb she had stashed inside, “But no. I think I’m ok on my own”

“Is there anything else I can do? And think big; we’re talking lasso the moon here”

“Hmm… I think ice cream would solve at least some of my problems right now”

“Alright well now you’re just being ridiculous! That’s way above my pay-grade! … ah shit I’m going through a tunnel. I’ll call you back!” Jimmy said as he began to break up.

“It’s fine,” his wife raised her voice for the receiver, “A nurse came in to get my weight and bloodwork, and she said the doctor would be back any minute”

The other end of the call became garbled static, and the only discernible word which cut through may or may not have been “sandwich”. Then Kim’s phone beeped as the connection was lost completely. Another minute passed. The room was still quiet. She considered getting her work out to review, but the piles of matted narratives and memos had become stuffed so thick into her briefcase, honestly she pictured herself undoing the latch and they’d all immediately erupt out of their folders and onto the floor. She’d get back to it. Just not here, not now. She was too worn out for it.

On the TV at the end of the hallway outside, she could hear a Muzak cover of “No Surprises” by Radiohead. It was hard to tell if the voices were also coming from the TV, or if it was the nurses talking outside. Might as well investigate…

“You can hear it can't you? That little voice. The one that says, ‘Don't stare too long. Don't touch. Don't do anything you might regret!’ I used to be the same. Whenever I wanted something, I could hear that voice telling me to stop. To be careful. To leave most of my life un-lived. You know the only place that voice left me alone? In my dreams. I was free. I could be as good, or as bad, as I felt like being. And if I wanted something, I could just reach out and take it. But then I would wake up, and the voice would start all over again.

So… I ran away! Crossed the shining sea. And when I finally set foot back on solid ground, all I found was the same old shit. Then as if to mock me, that goddamn voice came back ringing in my ears again. And do you know what it said?”

“Kim?” a short doctor with big watery blue eyes introduced herself.

“Sorry. The ad on the tv was starting to get its hooks in me. That’s all”

“It is loud. I’m Dr. Daniels. You said you’re here because you recently found out you were pregnant?” the doctor said with her peepers lazing over her subject’s protruding stomach.

“I could lie and say I’d been putting off a visit for eight months, but that wouldn’t sound any less crazy, so I might as well tell the truth…” the words caught in Kim’s throat, but she managed to spit it out, and as a result she finally broke down sobbing, “I’ve been attacked! Someone in a red cloak came up to me and stabbed me in the arm with a needle! That’s how the KGB killed Georgi Markov, you know! It’s not science fiction!” Dr. Daniels handed her a box of tissues. “Thanks. Well the needle part isn’t, at least. But I have enemies! There are people trying to fuck with me! And they’re crafty; I don’t know what they are and aren’t capable of. I must stress again, I’m not paranoid. But I kid you not, I’ve caught cars following me! Read my chart - no history of mental illness! - well ok my mom’s an alcoholic, but that doesn’t automatically apply to me - I am only telling you this because we have doctor-patient confidentiality! I’m in it deep! My husband and I are both lawyers and a client we took on happened to be a high ranking cartel member. Now he’s stalking us, harassing us, giving us money I can’t even ask where it came from. If I go to the police, he’ll kill my husband, he’ll kill me, kill you too probably if confidentiality isn’t enough to motivate you. God knows what favor he’ll ask us to do next!

And the worst part is I can’t even talk about this to Jimmy! I mean I can; it’d be worse if he was keeping this whole thing a secret from me. But he thinks I’m stoic! If I show him I’m scared - really out-of-body-experience scared, it’ll all be over between us. I refuse to let that happen. But of all the twisted things I had anticipated, in my wildest dreams I never imagined this!” the pregnant woman blew her nose. Her eyes were glassy with subsiding tears. “The world has officially stopped making sense to me. Everything I knew about the laws of physics… biology… has been proven wrong. You could tell me my whole life has been a John Carpenter movie, and at this point, I’d believe you”

The expression on Daniel’s face was solemn.

“Do you have a therapist?” she asked.

“He retired” Kim sighed, “You don’t believe me either”

“It’s much worse than that. I didn’t believe this story the first time I heard it. But in the last - what was it? - three months, you’re the twenty-second patient who’s told me something like this”

“... What?” Kim had spent her whole morning too much in her own head, and this was the first thing to get her complete attention.

“Well the whole part about the cartel is new. It’s not my job to judge. But the other details; the red cloak? The white mask? The unprovoked assaults with syringes full of mysterious pink gel? The supernaturally fast gestations over the course of less than two days? They’re only becoming more frequent!”

“Stop!” Kim had scooted herself to the edge of the examination table, “You’re saying there’s others?”

“My female patients have every right to be terrified. I don’t know who will be affected next”

“That’s great! Why isn’t the hospital issuing warnings about this? Go to the District Attorney; I can give you his number! This needs to be in every headline in New Mexico! At the very least”

“No it isn’t great!” Dr. Daniels threw her hands up, “You don’t think I’ve tried?! Of course I know this is front-page news. The brick wall is my chief of staff. He won’t listen. He’s not contesting any of the facts, but he says he doesn’t view this as a priority. I’ve gone to the papers! Same problem!”

Ms. Wexler furrowed her brow, “And you don’t think that’s weird”

“Why are you being so hard on me? I’m trying to help you”

“Ok,” she pressed, “But two authorities, completely independent of eachother, are choosing to ignore what is clearly an emergency, and are providing the same rationale. That points to a Watergate level conspiracy! I can’t think of an alternative explanation”

“I can!” the doctor replied as she began to gather up the tools for an ultrasound, “Not all conspiracies are done entirely on purpose. All it takes for an effective conspiracy to work is one person with a malicious design; everyone else could be operating in accord with their own status quo. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but ‘The System’ does a lot of unfair things to women. 1 in 10 of us have some sort of reproductive-related ailment, the only tool I have to treat it is Loestrin, and with the money spent paying off the cottage industry which surrounds sewing confusion about equal pay, They could probably just pay us more already”

If Daniels went around every day this exasperated, it would explain why her eyes were always so puffy. She interrupted her own lecture to ask Kim to lie down.

“It doesn’t have to be so tin-foil-hat all the time. It’s commonly understood that the things it’s worth raising the alarm about, and the things it’s convenient to raise an alarm about are very different. Not just for the bottom line, but for the people who have to toe that line, or else that abstract thing will, like you said, kill their friends and family. I’ve prayed almost every day for ten years that a new supervirus doesn’t emerge, because we aren’t prepared. And god forbid if it only affected women? They’d do NOTHING about it! But I know that with the conditions of the factory farms being what they are, it’s really only a matter of time”

Dr. Daniels had a point, or at least her words weren’t any more bs than anything else which had precedent, but Kim had stopped listening again. She was haunted by the moving silhouette on the black and white screen, and the rest of the world was closing out around her. Was she a bad mother if the first thought to enter her mind was “stupid baby”? She was just still in shock was all; she’d pictured something more in-line with how long she’d been given to process this news, a cluster of cells or some early big-headed skeletal lifeform. Not this! She could discern the outline of the fetus sucking its thumb. She could feel the windows of opportunity being slammed closed. Every other path yielding to the one right in front of her. “I don’t know. I love you, I guess! Shut up!” she thought to herself.

“So!” Daniel’s voice cut through the white noise, “Do you want to know?”

“Know what?” our protagonist replied spacily.

With gentleness and understanding, the physician’s assistant clarified, “If you’re having a boy or a girl…”

“Oh! Right!” Kim stammered, “Uh… sure! Yeah”

Daniels moved the wand higher on her patient’s bump. “Well I could always be wrong… but I don’t think I’m seeing a penis anywhere. I think you’re having a daughter, for whatever that’s worth”

It’s too much pressure, Kim lamented in her head. All these expectations parents foist on kids before they’re even born. It wasn’t fair. Maybe it was good she wasn’t more excited; maybe most of this excitement from new parents was performative anyway. Especially taking into account what a fluke it was that there was life on Earth at all, it was a miracle she was even here to conceive a child. She wasn’t excited, because this was what real unconditional love felt like: this little person was still a complete stranger to her. There was no way to know whether her child would grow up to be masculine or feminine, same way there was no way to know which life choices her child would go on to make that she’d approve of, and which she wouldn’t.

There were only three things Kim was certain of: (1) If she thought of her daughter as a mistake, she meant it as a compliment, because (2) it was an appealing idea to her, that something or someone could perform a transgressive act by its mere fact of existing. It conjured up imagery of some mutant animal with a hairline evolutionary advantage. And (3) even if it hadn’t been too late to go back and “fix” this mistake, she’d decided she was beyond the point of return, and therefore it was true. And now she’d defend that decision at any cost.

“I don’t care” she announced as she wiped the goo off her stomach, “This news still comes to me as a relief. I was seriously worried I was having a nervous breakdown. But if there’s twenty-one other women this has happened to? I can work with that! I’ll start a- a class action suit! Taking the hospital and the papers and anyone else to task for negligence! I’ll make it too loud to ignore! If you could put me in contact with these other patients? Right, no, confidentiality. I’ll figure something out! Oh!”

It was easy to get carried away with this new fire which had been lit under her. But there were a few more questions she had before she was free to charge out the front door. She went over to her briefcase and fished the comb out of the front pocket.

“This is my husband’s comb” she continued, “I was wondering if you could DNA test this. Or do you have to wait until after the kid is born before you can do that?”

Dr. Daniels shrugged, “That can be done easily enough. I’d have to take an amnio sample, which I needed to do anyway. Although for the record, the other women who were in here asked for a paternity test as well, for the obvious reason. And thus far, whatever the results of the test said, for each of them it was 100% what they had wanted to hear. The babies resulting from this mutation weren’t just clones of their mother; the husbands, the boyfriends, the long-term life partners, all the tests came back showing that the fathers were who my patients wanted them to be. At first, I thought this was going to help me narrow down what exactly that pink gel was. I thought maybe it was just extremely powerful at negating their birth control methods. Then a lesbian couple showed up complaining of this… the father in that case was the girlfriend as well. So I don’t have any theories! Deep breath, sharp pinch…” she said as she jabbed the long needle into Kim’s womb.

The spot where the needle had poked was going to be sore for another hour at least, but this reassurance brought our heroine another step closer to accepting what had happened. It was a warming thought, after all, that this stranger was going to be half her and half Jimmy. Even if it all but guaranteed this new animal would be an apex predator…

“Don’t rush out the door just yet!” Dr. Daniels stopped her as Kim was redressing in her ill-fitting and torn skirt, “I still need to do a bloodwork panel”

“Can’t you use the blood you already took?”

“I haven’t drawn any blood yet”

“Not you, but the nurse already stuck me before you came in. Remember, the vials had purple rubber caps?”

Daniels looked confused and turned to hammer away at the computer terminal, “Nobody performed a blood draw. There’d be a record of it. Even if it was less than an hour ago”

Kim’s veins turned to ice. She thought she was being careful. She’d waited 'til the door was closed before spilling her guts. She’d made sure there were no security cameras to capture her betrayal of the cartel. But what if it hadn’t been a record-keeping mistake? If her enemies had infiltrated the hospital, if they were impersonating medical staff, then… then how could she be sure Daniels wasn’t working for them as well? On the other hand, what did these red cloaks have to gain by alerting her of the deception? On the other other hand, she didn’t know what these people were capable of, let alone what they wanted. She made some excuse for why that was enough phlebotomy for one day and beat a hasty retreat without another word to those big, watery eyes.

In the basement of this same facility, technicians were loading trays of blood samples into a refrigerator. On the right-hand side, the vials capped with orange rubber. A label was affixed to the bottom lip of the tray. In black marker, it bore the word “Control”. The tray had been sitting out at room temperature for some time now and the vials had lost their crimson sheen. Where there was an imperfection in the orange cap, a droplet had escaped but already clotted into dry rust. The purple-capped vials next to them, however, did not seem to age. The contents stayed bright red, even though those samples weren’t any younger than the orange ones. A droplet had escaped the purple rubber as well, but it refused to denature in the presence of oxygen. This tray had a label too: “Test Group”. A fly buzzed loudly until it caught the scent of the drop. It perched itself on the vial and rubbed its legs together.

#kim wexler #jimmy x kim #mcwexler #jimmy mcgill #mcwexlerjr #bcs #saul goodman #rhea seehorn #better call saul fanfic #better call saul

0 notes

jimmymcgools · 3 years

Photo

ahh i was just gonna do a slightly earlier chunk in that chap 14 scene, but this is even better! ty pal 💖💖

fic commentary meme and my answers

(screenshotted the question so i can answer on this sideblog)

“Kim,” he says, and he exhales. Feels a tightness on his skin as he says, “Why are you doing this?” She flinches, almost. A little blink and a shift backward.

ah the eternal struggle of trying to capture one of rhea’s expressions 😂

from jimmy’s perspective i don’t think this is a dumb question at all, but i don’t think kim even considered not helping jimmy. so it takes her aback that jimmy would have to ask about this.

“But I guess I’ve been selfish since I came here,” she says, voice soft now, head tilted. “I guess I came here to be selfish. And it all came crashing down.”

i loved the idea of this because i love characters opening up or being honest in a way that isn’t actually objectively true. or, at least, the truth here is that this is some of what kim feels about leaving her family in nebraska and coming to make a more self-controlled and powerful life in albuquerque, but is it selfish to look after yourself and to better yourself? i mean, maybe a bit, or maybe in a less negatively-connotated version of the word.

and i liked the fight between the two kinds of selfishness in kim here. wanting to be in control and climb the ladder... and then wanting to be with jimmy, even though it makes it harder to be in control of her life, but he makes her feel good and he makes her happier.

“You never lied to me,” he offers, eventually. “You were honest—told me you didn’t have time, that it wouldn’t be fair.” He sighs. “But I kept pushing.”

kinda flipping the moment in the big argument where jimmy says that although kim never explicitly lied to him she didn’t behave honestly -- that her absence of words might not be dishonesty but it’s not honesty either.

i like their little tentative steps back out onto the ice, each trying to take responsibility, or sharing responsibility.

“I was selfish,” Kim says again, and they sound like words she’s been saying for months, coming up to the surface over and over now because they’ve been held back for so long, like they’re gasping for breath. “I was selfish, and I—I wanted you.”

📣 KIM WEXLER WANTS JIMMY MCGILL GODDAMMIT 📣

you can really see the influence of my kim pov pieces here

“I wanted you like I wanted the rest of it,” Kim continues, waving a hand. “Like I wanted the law degree and the nice briefcase and the big office on the fiftieth floor.”

love thinking about kim in the same breath as “they’re on the 35th floor? you’re gonna be on the 50th floor. you’re gonna be looking down on them.”

“You’re…” She sighs. “Anyway. Maybe that’s worse than lying. Maybe that’s worse, making you think this could be something steady and then pulling the floor out from under you every time.” She stares at him, blue and bright. “So I get it.” And milder now, almost throwaway: “But I’d like to help with this. If you’ll have me.”

this is kim’s alternative version of jimmy’s “you're like ice” during the rooftop bar scene.

there, jimmy gives himself all the agency in walking out onto the dangerous ice. here, kim gives herself all the agency for pulling the stable surface out from beneath him. but the end result is the same!

“Kim,” he says, humming the end of her name

little callback to acb: Kim: crisp and sharp but with a soft humming noise at the end, smooth and warm on his lips. Kim.

i wanted to sort of unconsciously refer back to that period in their relationship with how jimmy appreciates saying kim’s name here, how he’s aware of this humming part again.

His knee touches hers where the booths angle close to each other.

this is why i think it’s just as valuable for writers to look up ref pictures of settings as it is for visual artists, because i never would have thought of these angled booths until i saw them in photos of the owl cafe, and i love what it adds!

The jukebox changes. Eighties synths and kicking drums rise through the restaurant, and it sounds like driving down a road late at night, or like drunken mornings at Arno’s.

i said it a couple of places already, but all the music in this chapter is really on the jukebox in the real owl cafe. please play this for me if you ever go!!

youtube

And he looks at his wrong answers, at the sharp black letters of his writing.

one of the little visual motif thingies in safs, these sharp black letters. they overtake jimmy when he has his optical poptitude breakdown in chapter 5.

Kim nods like she’d been expecting the solemnity of his answer, like it all makes sense to her, somehow. He keeps waiting for her to ask him why, for her to ask what he was thinking or what he’s doing or why he hid it from her or why he’s here—but she still doesn’t.

one of the big fundamental misunderstandings that jimmy’s still holding on to. he didn’t think kim would understand and he’s STILL waiting for the other shoe to drop, for her to start up the argument again. and there’s the “why are you here” that haunted jimmy through the first half of safs.

Instead, she stands, and he watches her. She holds out a hand, palm up. “Come on,” she says. “C’mere.”

this is totally and shamelessly my postmodern prometheus moment, whoops

bette davis eyes vibed so similar to walking in memphis and the idea wormed its way into my lizard brain and wouldn’t let go.

is it earned?? i don’t know, it’s fanfiction. hopefully it fits with the strange magic bubble (or island??) these two make in the owl cafe for this one night.

tysm for the ask! 💖💖

#asks #queenofnots #commentary ask meme

6 notes · View notes

krokonoko · 4 years

Note

kimb wexler!!

favorite thing about them: I think it’s really cool that she’s more than just a love interest for the protag. She’s got her own story, her own agenda, and she’s amazingly complex. Whenever you think she’s just lawful good and that’s her entire character, she kicks your ass into the next dimension doing something really interesting and new. And she’s got SO much chaotic energy bottled up behind SO much lawful good, and I’m so curious where this will take her ultimately! Rhea Seehorn is also just. Sorry she looks super cool, I love her voice! At first glance you could think Kim is a prissy upper class girl (which would be fine), but then Rhea opens her mouth or just does that ACTING THING where it suddenly hits you in the face that Kim’s a tough, professional, funny, down-to-earth, no-nonsense… mature… person… who can be super emotionally intelligent and forgiving and. Idk. We stan.

least favorite thing about them: That she’s basically the only female main character in the show, and honestly, kinda the only important recurring female character at all…!

favorite line: “FAIR? Let’s talk about FAIR.” God. So much power. For Kim to just rip Howard a new one like that. Iconic scene.

brOTP: Kim / Jimmy? Tho I totally do ship them romantically!! But their friendship is especially important to me.

OTP: Kim / Paige

nOTP: None, I think. I mean if people were out there shipping her with Chuck I wouldn’t be into that but since I don’t think anyone does that…

random headcanon: she’s top af.

unpopular opinion: Iiii think the best way BCS could go for her is if she got disbarred and moved far, far away from Jimmy :c Not because I want her to be disbarred, heavens no! But the whole “2nd best lawyer” vs “best lawyer” cup deal kinda makes me think that’s foreshadowing that Kim isn’t gonna stay a lawyer.

song i associate with them: Headlock by Imogen Heap

favorite picture of them:

#Kim Wexler #Better Call Saul #BrBa BCS #ask #answer #bluestainedhands

13 notes · View notes

kiraalexander · 7 years

Text

BCS/Young Pope AU part cuatro:

Valente led Jimmy up another flight of stairs, and Jimmy was beginning to get worried that he wouldn’t be able to find his way out again.

“So, uh, where are we going?” he asked, trying to keep his voice down. He had no idea whether there were any cardinals asleep behind the imposing doors they were passing, but his footsteps echoed ominously on the gleaming floor. Father Valente’s shoes, on the other hand, didn’t make a sound.

“The holy father wishes to see you,” Valente said implacably.

“Yeah, you said that,” Jimmy said, his voice raising involuntarily, then hastily lowering it again. “But isn’t his office back that way?”

“Yes,” said Valente, “It is.” Then he turned, and continued ascending the stairs.

Those stairs led to a tightly coiled spiral staircase, which Jimmy ascended, trying not to rattle the metal and cause more of a racket. When the staircase ended in a tiny smoked glass bubble of a vestibule, Valente opened a door embedded in one translucent wall and stepped back, holding it open for Jimmy to step through. “Please,” he said, and when Jimmy stepped onto the roof, he retreated, closing the door behind him before descending the stairs.

And there he was, standing in front of the thick stone railing that partitioned the roof of St. Peter’s Basilica from the empty air over the vast square below. He stood like he always did, perfectly ramrod straight, and maybe that’s why Jimmy started thinking of his mother - how she’d always grab his shoulders and wrench them up when she caught him slouching. “You’ll get a hunch, like Father Thomas,” she’d say. Father Thomas walked with a permanent shuffle, his head jutting out in front of him, and his shoulders a rounded hunch that threatened to go higher than the top of his head. Still, he always said a short homily, which was why Jimmy always signed up to serve at his mass. Father Thomas sucked horehound drops almost constantly, and it mixed with the communion wine and his halitosis into a sweet and sour reek that Jimmy forever associated with Latin. Sometimes he gave the altar boys a piece of the candy after service. The other kids joked about how gross it was, but Jimmy always secretly liked the bitter herbal flavor. He tasted it now, and wondered what Father Thomas would say if he knew Jimmy were on top of the Basilica of St. Peter, about to talk with the pope.

Of course, that would entail Father Thomas knowing what Jimmy had been doing with the pope over the past few weeks, and the thought made his stomach twist.

He tried to dispel it by walking forward - after all, it was a little late to start getting squeamish - and realized that the pope’s silhouette was all wrong. There was no capelet thingy - what the name of it was, he had no idea. Kim would know, she knew every stitch these people wore, there was some fancy name for everything. But he wasn’t wearing it. Instead, he was wearing what looked suspiciously like a hoodie.

Well, Jimmy decided, even popes were allowed to be comfortable now and then. He cleared his throat a little, just in case Valente’s “please” hadn’t signalled that he’d arrived, but the pope didn’t turn around. So Jimmy walked up beside him, and put his hands on the heavy stone balcony.

“This is quite a view,” he said, then cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Your, uh, holiness.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” the pope said. “I didn’t even know you could come up here before I was elected.”

“Well. Thank you for showing it to me-”

“No. Don’t thank me. I’m being entirely selfish.”

Jimmy didn’t know what to say to this, so he stayed still, rubbing the pads of his fingers on the smooth stone of the balcony until his holiness continued. “I usually ask Don Tomasso up here when I can’t sleep. But it seems he’s taken ill and needs some rest.” Finally he turned to look at Jimmy. “You can’t honestly be happy that I dragged you out of bed at two in the morning.”

Well, Jimmy thought, but decided not to vocalize this particular train of thought. “To be honest, I was having trouble sleeping myself.” At least this wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t even been in bed, or even undressed - he’d been pacing his tiny room in the Casa Santa Marta after Kim had given up the ghost and stopped work for the night.

“Well then, you can thank me,” the pope said, turning back to look over the square.

“Thank you,” said Jimmy. “Holiness.”

The pope made a satisfied little sound in the back of his throat at this, but didn’t say anything further, leaving Jimmy floundering as to how he’d fill the silence. He tried to go back to what he’d been thinking about, and landed on Kim. She’d been agitated when he’d come back from his… well, one on one audience with the pope in the afternoon, and for a few heart-stopping minutes, he’d thought she’d found them out. Finally, after he’d nagged her, she’d told him what her real problem was.

“So,” he started. “Kim - Ms. Wexler - told me that she’d talked to the head of marketing for the Vatican - and she heard you were refusing to have your picture taken? For any of the new merch?”

“That’s right,” the pope said, with the edges of a satisfied smirk.

“Huh,” Jimmy said. “That’s - I mean, it’s different. Like, I remember my mom had a whole shelf full of commemorative plates. Paul the sixth, John Paul the first, but John Paul the second - man, she really loved that guy. She had at least five, six of those plates alone, you know.” Glancing to one side, he saw that the pope’s expression hadn’t changed. “Not that I’m saying you should do it if you don’t want to, right? Just, you know, if my mom were still around, she’d probably double her order for you. I mean, you’re kind of a looker.”

“Oh, you noticed that?” the pope said, bringing his fist to his mouth, and leaving a cigarette parked there when he withdrew it. He lit it, and Jimmy looked away to avoid that dry craving in his mouth that he felt whenever Kim lit up in front of him. Ostensibly he didn’t smoke any more, and never bought for himself, and he knew it was a shitty thing to do to bum whenever he was with someone smoking. So instead he looked away and just breathed the secondhand smoke as hard as he could. He thought about the incense that Father Thomas used to swing in the censer, how rich and heavy it smelled compared to the shitty stuff he used to get to hide the smell of weed on his clothes.

“The plates,” the pope said. “Let me guess. Franklin Mint?” The disdain with which he cut off the final plosive was palpable.

“Oh no,” said Jimmy. “Bradford Exchange. Much classier.” This brought the first genuine smile to the pope’s face, and Jimmy felt his shoulders relax a little.

“It’s still tacky,” the pope said. “Just more expensive. I couldn’t bear to be party to tackiness. Don’t you think it’s inherent, that tackiness, to being flattened out? Reduced to a two-dimensional image? Perhaps that’s the trouble with the Word, after all. When it’s pressed into a page, when it’s flattened, it loses its breath and its life. Perhaps that’s why it’s so hard to - to hear.”

Jimmy turned to look at his face, and was startled to see the pope looking back. “Look,” he said, and grabbed Jimmy’s arm, pulling him back to a bench facing the balcony rail, sitting him down thigh to thigh as the edge hit them both behind the knee. “Look,” he said again, pointing upward to the stars above the square. “Each and every one of those tiny dots is greater than a world, and made entirely of fire. The distance between them is so vast that we could never hope to travel a fraction of it. But when we look up, all we see is white spots on a black canvas. Flat. And we tell our fortunes by them.” He scoffed, sending a stream of smoke through his nose. “That’s the danger of a two-dimensional image.”

He flicked his cigarette butt over the balcony, and the red, dying sparks it gave off seemed to momentarily join the white stars overhead.

“They’re trying to flatten me,” the pope said. “Every single one.”

“They can’t,” Jimmy said compulsively, and the pope scoffed.

“There’s so many of them,” he said. “Every single person in that square. Every member of the clergy. Every middle aged housewife with a John Paul the second commemorative plate. They want to turn me into a thing. And in the end, they will.”

“No,” Jimmy said. “You’re going to burn.” And because he couldn’t think of anything better to do to get the message across, he snaked his hand up the thigh of the pope’s track suit trousers, to find him already hard.

The pope’s breathing didn’t quicken as Jimmy worked, but seemed to get more deliberately slow and calm. He even lit another cigarette, and closed his eyes only after he’d taken the first few drags. So it was Jimmy breathing hard, feeling the first beads of sweat on his forehead, trying not to think that this was the pope, the goddamn pope, and only that he was breathing an inch away from the man’s neck.

He had to be careful, he’d figured that out weeks ago. The man was wearing all white after all, so when the moment came, Jimmy made sure to position his palm just so to avoid any staining of the pope’s pristine athleisure. He tried to hold his breath, but it came out in ragged exhalations in spite of himself. He felt desperate to press himself against the

Christ almighty, pope?

man next to him, to feel his tongue along the back of his own teeth, the back of his hand doing - what, he didn’t care, something.

When the pope moved, Jimmy surged against him, but met stolid resistance. The pope took a last drag from his cigarette, and flicked it, as with the first one, over the balcony, letting the sparks from the cherry wink out in the black. Then he stood, adjusted his track suit bottoms, and pulled something from the pocket. He threw it at Jimmy.

“Clean yourself up,” he said. “Valente will see you out when you’re finished.”

It was only after the pope had vanished down the spiral stairs that Jimmy realized he’d been given a linen handkerchief with the papal insignia embroidered on it in delicate, tiny stitches. As he used it to scrub come off his palm, all he could think of was how much his mother would have loved it.

#welp here we are #actually it's my first m/m scene so sorry it's a bit perfunctory #i've never been big on long detailed sex scenes #we'll get a bit more prose when sofia seduces kim over a dinner she pretends to cook herself and amaro laced espresso #bcs #lil' pope #better call st. paul #jimmy mcgill #lenny belardo #up on the roof #oh btw again this is completely unedited

5 notes · View notes

jimmymcgools · 4 years

Note

I’ll bite. The scene where Jimmy is all in his head at the Christmas party and storms out to the parking garage, where he kicks the crap out of the garbage can.

❤️❤️❤️ahh thank you!! 🎄🗑🎄🗑

i thought a lot about the conversation with vernon in this scene, because i wanted jimmy and kim to both leave this party angry, and each have their own reasons. i tried to figure out what might anger them both most -- for jimmy, it’s being looked down on and sneered at, and for kim, it’s the thoughtless (almost cruel) privilege on display.

jimmy doesn’t really notice kim getting angry because he’s so much in his own head, but vernon suggesting that she just take a couple of months off study for the bar exam -- and hey, just skip a couple of parties, kim! -- is pure wexler rage fuel.

this anger + vernon stonewalling/insulting jimmy is what has kim being more openly affectionate with jimmy than usual here. touching him, calling him her good luck charm. it’s a defence of jimmy, but it’s also defending herself, in a way, or at least making her position clear as the class lines fall down between everyone -- i’m not with your lot, i’m not like you, i’m with him.

kim thinks about this party a lot for the next few months, just like jimmy, for her own reasons. “the only time they looked any different was when they were looking at you”. i think kim both really wants to be part of that world AND can’t stomach the thought of it.

and then jimmy. being dismissed by howard, being insulted and talked down to by vernon, being on the outside of these law conversations he can’t follow -- like his memory of watching the shadows of grown-ups from the top of the stairs and wishing he could join them.

And whatever’s been bubbling inside Jimmy finally boils over throughout the party i wanted to set up this like, countdown/build up of physical sensation, starting with the conversation with howard in the stairwell.

and he thinks: I could get you. It would be so easy. It would be as easy as blinking, as easy as opening my eyes. i don’t use first person thoughts like this very often in my writing, but they pack a punch. part of me likes saving them for big moments, but i should also remember to use them more.

It’s an old mood, a well-worn mood, and he’s a little out of practice with it, but it settles over him like a second skin. Or like a shedded skin, found again. something creepy and snake-like about this that spoke to me.

And he can feel Slippin’ Jimmy coming back—the real Slippin’ Jimmy, not the grinning clown who dances coins over his fingers or bends cigarettes in half, but the guy who fractured his knee in front of an elderly woman’s porch just for a chance at a few hundred bucks; the guy who screamed at his own brother so loudly he couldn’t bear to look at him again for five years; the guy whose wife ran out on him—Slippin’ Jimmy, dumb and drunk and angry, always angry— i really wanted to draw a line between slippin’ jimmy in cicero and the dark, angry jimmy we see sometimes in bcs. in pinata, in the bar scene in expenses, in how he coldly kicks out that kevin costner girl. the guy who can become saul goodman. even just in the guy in uno who leaves a meeting and kicks the shit out of a trashcan, or in bingo kicks the shit out of an office door. i think there’s real anger in there.

He imagines the fireworks the shattered shards would make beneath the thousands of Christmas lights. earlier in the chapter, jimmy tells kim about the christmas tradition of throwing old bottles at the brick wall out back of arno’s, and compares them to fireworks. no doubt some years slippin’ jimmy was picturing specific faces as he threw them

And the burning, unstoppable feeling rises, angering Jimmy more than anything else, angering him just for feeling it; angering him like seeing Howard reflected in the glass of the lobby, a kid pretending to be a king; angering him like Kim’s hand on his elbow—Kim, who hasn’t fucked him again since White Sands, and he doesn’t know why, and he thinks—he thinks— —what the fuck is wrong with these people, standing here dying in this room. i wanted to capture that feeling of becoming so angry that all your little justifications and compromises shatter. he certainly hasn’t spent the last few months hating kim, but this thought has always been there, just outweighed by all the things he still gains from the relationship, and boxed up by careful rationale. but now it’s like every thing jimmy has cause to be angry about is crashing to the surface.

and the howard thing -- i think jimmy fights against feeling small by trying to put himself above the people who make him feel that way. “i’m a god in human clothing!”

He steps in just as they’re shutting so that by the time he turns around they’ve closed, and it’s just himself staring back: mirrored and warped. thinking about chapter 1 here, where jimmy rehearses his greeting in front of his reflection in these elevator doors.

He pauses, breathing heavily—but there he is again, his red-patterned tie flashing on the curve of a trashcan—so he slams his foot into the reflection, self loathing set to MAX!

“I talked to Howard,” he says, gaze trained on hers, his voice harsh and thin. Kim looks down at the trashcan beside him. “It went that well, huh?” “Yeah,” Jimmy says acidly. “Yeah, it went that well.” i’m always trying to have these two communicate in as few words as possible. jimmy just offers the most dry and simplistic explanation here. she can tell it’s not everything.

and then kim, again, angry in her own way -- she’s gentle with jimmy here, almost treating him with kid gloves. still and quiet, not touching him again, just walking away and letting him follow.

and a little wary of him, maybe, but wanting to give him what he needs -- and give herself what she needs, too. i think kim leaving the party and going home with jimmy is also more of that affirmation i talked about earlier -- as much as she wants to be in the HHM world, part of her can’t stand it up there, and she wants to prove it to herself that she’s not completely up there yet. she can be down here, with jimmy, too.

#asks #commentary ask meme #simple-potates #a controlled burn

12 notes · View notes