#El padrino

[sarahlovessummer]

-I just watch narcos for the plot

The plot:

[lascitasdelashoras]

Francis Ford Copola - El Padrino (Al Pacino, Marlon Brando)

[welele]

Me encanta, es como los memes en portugués, que siempre son más graciosos:

[64hellboy]

The Godfather (1972)

[catylovewinters]

Kay vio que Michael recibía el homenaje de aquellos hombres. Y se acordó de las estatuas de los emperadores romanos, quienes, por derecho divino, eran dueños de la vida y de la muerte de sus súbditos. Tenía una mano en la cadera. El perfil de su cara hablaba de un poder frío y orgulloso, y su cuerpo descansaba sobre uno de sus pies, que quedaba un poco más atrás que el otro. Los caporegimi estaban de pie frente a él. En ese momento, Kay comprendió que todo lo que Connie había dicho era cierto. Regresó nuevamente a la cocina, y una vez allí, se echó a llorar.

[bullet-prooflove]

Could I please have “Cause if you'll treat me right I'll be the perfect wife” with Marcus Alvarez. I love the way you write for him ❤️

Agony - Marcus sees you with another man.

Mine (feat: Marcus Alvarez) Companion piece to Agony - Marcus isn't the only one in love with you.

Marcus has always thought you were beautiful but today as you walk down the aisle in white lace, you’re ethereal. An angel sent straight from heaven to grace this earth with your presence. He’s dreamed about this moment, about the day he’d make you his wife and that’s what hurts because you’re not here for him today, you’re here for the man at the front of the church, the one you’re about to promise yourself to for the rest of your life.

It pains Marcus to watch you walk down the aisle with another man, to hear you recite your vows with such conviction. He’s known for a long time that you were in love with Downer, ever since the day he turned up at your door to find the other man’s bike in the driveway.

He’d cut you loose a few months before that, broken your heart. He hadn’t told you about the threat to his life, that a rival gang had put the green light on him and that meant you were fair game. He’d simply told you that he didn’t love you anymore, that you were just a girl he fucked when he came through Yuma.

He’d come to you after the engagement, tried to change your mind but it was already too late.

“I would have done anything for you.” You’d told him that night. “I was so fucking in love with you I would have moved to Oakland, become your wife, had your children.”

It’s a future he’d envisioned for the two of you a thousand times over and instead he’d thrown it away because he just couldn’t be honest with you. He didn’t want to admit the reality of his life, that danger tainted everything he touched.

“Do you love him?” He’d asked you, his dark eyes boring into yours. “Does he make you happy?”

“Yea.” You’d said quietly and he could see the honesty of it in your eyes. “He’s never hurt me the way that you did.”

He avoids Yuma after that because he doesn’t want to be in the presence of your happiness, he doesn’t want to see you with another man. When the wedding invitation comes through, he knows it’s a formality. He’s El Padrino, Downer has to invite him as a mark of respect, and he has to accept.

During the reception he sits at a table, his gaze on you as your palm smooths lightly over the tiny baby bump that you’ve been hiding underneathe the fabric of the dress. You haven’t told anybody yet, but Marcus knows, you have that glow about you, the same way his first wife did with Esai.

He leaves not long after that because you have the life you deserve and that’s all he ever wanted for you. He just wishes that it was with him.

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@kmc1989 @librarian1002 @thanossexual @msjava1972

[brian4rmthe6]

[the-pleasure-garden]

Trilogía El Padrino (Francis Ford Coppola)

¿Es posible que una película se convierta parte de la concepción de género dentro de una sociedad? No necesariamente desde la idea de semejanza a los patrones comportamentales, sin embargo, de cierta manera, quizá sí se convierte una expectativa de lo que debería ser. El Padrino, en muchas ocasiones, se ha considerado de esta manera, una obra de arte de un cineasta de la talla de Coppola en la que se elabora un relato ultra masculino. Recientemente, en el film de Barbie de Greta Gerwig, me pareció intrigante como se vuelve un chiste casi interno entre la cultura estadounidense en la que los hombres crecen viendo esta película y elaborando una superioridad por conocerla. Casi como si se volviera una idea de relato culto que toda persona debería ver. En el film de Gerwig, es además esa excusa para el mansplaining. Costumbre tan arcaica en la que creemos que el punto de vista crítico es el universal. Por eso, en esta ocasión estoy interesadisima por elaborar las 3 escenas que marcan la belleza de la trilogía con una que otra mención honorífica. Esto como un acto de defensa al cine que debe salir por completo de los estándares sociales de cualquier tipo.

La sacralización de la masculinidad

El padrino I (1972) es el punto de partida de lo que se convertiría en un relato nacional en torno a la idea de mafia, maldad, e incluso, hasta de la idea de extranjero. La película muestra su punto de inflexión más representativo en la escena final. Pero antes de esto, y en la primera mención honorífica, se encuentra la muerte de Vito Corleone. Esta escena, sencilla en composición, pero tan compleja en cuanto al trasfondo que carga su mensaje es la expresión gráfica del espíritu de la película. En el jardín de su gran casa, un Vito Corleone retirado come naranjas mientras juega con su nieto con una pistola de agua. Se pone de pie y pretende entre un pequeño cultivo a que el niño debe atraparlo. En esta adrenalina su abundante experticia relacionada a su edad, le juega en contra y sufre una muerte natural pero fulminante. Es un hombre jugando a ser perseguido, jugando a tener un poder que los otros desean y que por esta razón puede ser atacado. Pero, ¿por qué es un juego? Es un juego desde la idea de poder que él mismo se instaura, disfrazada de todos estos discursos de manipulación, presencia, relaciones interpersonales y dinámicas de liderazgo que al final juegan a su contra para darle un nombre que al ponerlo en la cima también lo pone en evidencia. 

Esta idea de estar en la cima es la que justamente trae consigo la idea de la sacralización. En un discurso de omnipotencia es quien puede cuidar de los suyos casi como un enviado de Dios. Usualmente, la idea del padrino es quien supone ese refugio para los hijos de sus cercanos y se encarga de proveer una guía más cercana en caso de la falta de los padres. Sin embargo, el caso que propone Coppola se convierte no solo en un cobijo para el más indefenso, sino que se complejiza este rol al elaborarlo como una estrategia de negocios en la que el miedo a estar desamparado es el factor que influye. De hecho, este miedo al desamparo no es hacia los peligros ajenos, sino a que el mismo que prometió darle seguridad, es quien se iría en su contra. De esta manera, poco a poco la imagen de la espiritualidad con respecto a los dogmas de la iglesia se va deshaciendo hasta volverse en una mafia.

La escena final de la primera entrega de esta trilogía muestra ese otro aspecto de poder del que se ufana Michael Corleone: la omnipresencia. Es quien está en todas partes mediante sus enviados. Esto convoca a un conflicto identitario en el que sus allegados ya no son seres individuales que podrían actuar por sí solos, son solo piezas que según sus conexiones y características conforman una parte importante o no de lo que le pertenece a Michael. Hablamos entonces de pertenencias al padrino y no el padrino mismo, porque Michael es un hombre que confía en los demás, no como si lo hiciera el mismo sino como el dueño de una máquina que espera que esta le supla lo que él requiera. 

La celebración de la traición

El padrino II (1974) contiene mi escena favorita de toda la trilogía. Empezando con la belleza cinematográfica de la composición de colores, el año nuevo en Cuba es una obra de arte completa. En medio de este estallido social, ver a todas las personas de poder en un salón exclusivo celebrando la llegada de un nuevo año entre los colores de Cuba que resultan ser los mismo de la bandera estadounidense. Con un filtro de cámara que presenta casi hostilidad la escena es magnifica. El contraste que se genera con el salir a la calle a una multitud que esta esparcida y eufórica por razones completamente contrarias a la multitud encerrada cuyo sentido de exclusividad la ha vuelto prisionera es un mensaje completo. Es pensar en la multitud desde un privilegio o una decisión. Que si bien ambas actitudes involucran un sentido de agencia, quienes marchan en las calles contienen muchas más familiaridad y respaldo en los demás que quienes son miembros de un club. Y esto, se denota de manera brillante con la traición de Fredo hacia Michael. Las posiciones de poder pocas veces crearán un sentido genuino de comunidad, mientras que la idea de revolución empieza justamente por ese instinto de empatía en el que las vivencias de uno de vuelven la causa de todos.

Esta escena no es solamente una obra maestra, sino que da paso al grio argumental más interesante, y, en mi opinión, el más coherente con la trama. A raíz de esta traición de Fredo, su hermano, Michael, comienza a replantearse los límites de los principios que siempre lo han caracterizado. Esta traición lo posiciona en una situación que incluso su padre, Vito Corleone, probablemente no haya atravesado: la traición de la familia. Al pensarse en el legado no solo como un concepto abstracto sino como un conjunto que actua bajo el nombre del padrino, esta traición supone una fractura interna que amenaza con atacar no solo la imagen sino la permanencia del legado. Así, entendiendolo casi como un virus fatal Michael asesina a su propio hermano. Un asesinato comandado pero no ejecutado por él, como todas estas tareas su omnipotencia y omnipresencia se determinan por considerarse lider de una maquinaria que recibe sus ordenes.

La metaficción y la muerte

Finalmente, la no tan aclamada entrega de El Padrino III (1990) tiene, de todas formas, una belleza que nos hace recordar que a pesar de no estar al nivel de sus dos antecesoras, seguimos ante una película de Coppola. Este final, o la que debió ser la última escena de la película, nos trae el recurso más bello que tiene el arte: la metaficción. Es ver a personajes contemplando a otros personajes. Saber que el hijo de Corleone es un actor que actua como su hijo que a su vez actua un papel en una ópera. Ese cine que busca seguir contemplando al arte siempre será un acierto sin importar en las circunstancias que se presente. Se crea entonces una dinámica de observación en la que como audiencia llevabamos unas horas viendo la vida ficticia de Corleone, y por unos planos, simplemente lo vemos observar a su hijo.

Ahora bien, esta escena que se está representando en la ópera tiene además una fuerte carga de religiosidad en torno a la muerte y al duelo. Tema que en esta última (en serio espero que última y que nadie haga un remake incómodo) entrega de la trilogía se hace muy adecuado al pensar en esa profanación de la religión a partir del concepto de empresa e institución. De esta manera, se crea una especie de garantía en la que lavar las culpas y los pecados es también una nueva guerra de poderes en la que los aliados de Corleone no solo buscan poder beber de este fruto prohibido que se está legitimando, sino el baño de pureza que este bocado puede darles.

En conclusión, Coppola hizo un serie de películas redonda y, hasta cierto punto coherente. Con ciertos desaciertos en la última entrega, aún así podemos apreciar un discurso que se viene creando desde la primera y que para este último film no va a pasar de largo. Quizá los desaciertos de la película del 90 están relacionados a la maestría de las dos entregas anteriores, en la que al concebir una nueva generación Corleone resulta incomodo. Esta estrategia de alargamiento de historias usualmente suele fallar. Pero, que gran acierto es cuando en vez de pensar en el futuro pensamos en el motivo del pasado. Como en el segundo film en el que volvemos al pasado para conocer cómo Vito Corleone se convirtió en el padrino, mientras en paralelo su hijo busca seguir los pasos de su padre y mantener el legado mientras batalla con situaciones que ponen en tela de juicio sus valores y principios.

[sublecturas]

"El padrino", de Mario Puzo en la #Lína A

[broiderie]

Lost Princessa: Meet the Reaper 1

Alright. Here it is. The first chapter in what was supposed to be just a little one shot to get my writing working again. Now it’s turning into a sequel. No idea how long this ride is going to be this time y’all so bare with me.

Please don’t copy my shit. Like... I promise. You don’t wanna be me. I’ve got too much shit going on right now for anyone to steal my identity or my work so please just be a decent human being. 

Warnings: talk of injury, cursing, mention of past murder.

Megan woke slowly to a quiet shushing sound. She had apparently been attempting to reach for Hank in her sleep as her broken collarbone throbbed relentlessly. Giant hands brushed her hair from her face gently as her eyes opened. 

"Easy, mi princessa. Easy. I'm right here," Hank murmured gently. He was propped up on his side facing her on his side of the bed. They'd tried switching so he wouldn't be on her injured side, but she continually woke up panicking because she thought he left when he wasn't where she had quickly gotten used to him being. Neither of them were getting much sleep either way. "Are you awake, Princessa? Hurting?"

Megan sighed tiredly. " 'm awake," she hissed. She rubbed her eyes. 

"How bad does it hurt? Need your meds?" He asked gently as he helped her to sit up in bed.

"No. Don't want the meds. It'll pass."

Hank watched her breathe through the pain and sighed. "You know that you don't have to push through it, right? You can take the pain relief, baby. Taza and I won't think less of you."

"I know that. I just hate the floaty feeling."

"You hate being less in control…" Taza said from the doorway. "It's like drinking, right?"

Megan nodded. "Morning, Papa."

Taza pushed off the door frame where he'd been leaning with a sigh. The circles under his eyes were just as dark as the ones on Hank's face. Megan noted them as he gently sat to her left. "You promised me you'd try to sleep last night, Papa. You didn't, did you?"

"I did try, Chica. It's only been a few days. We're all still dealing with shit." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Your padrino called. Wants to see us at the clubhouse this morning."

Megan frowned. "You're needed at the table. Both of you." She nodded and swallowed hard. "I'll be okay for a few hours. I can do it."

Taza shook his head. "All of us, Chica. Not just me and Hank."

Megan looked startled. "But why?"

"Don't know, sweetheart. Guess we'll find out when we get there."

"How am I supposed to get there? Unless you're going to lift your 'no riding' rule?" Megan asked hopefully. She'd been begging to ride the bike with one of them since they'd brought her home in the van. Taza had been firm about her not riding until after the sling came off.

Hank chuckled. "No way, Princessa. Not happening. You can't balance properly."

Megan whined. "I hate not being able to ride with you."

"Maybe this will help. Hank's not riding today either. Your padrino sent you a ride. Prospect dropped it off about an hour ago. Just gotta get up and dressed. We'll have breakfast at the clubhouse. Chuckie said he'd make you pancakes." Taza chuckled and kissed her forehead before getting up to take his own advice.

Hank watched as Megan managed to get herself out of bed. He was trying to not treat her as if she were helpless after a fairly minor blow up on her part by day two of being home from the hospital. She struggled along without the use of her dominant hand and tried not to ask for too much help. She shuffled into the bathroom and Hank heard the water turn on in the sink, so he hurried to get himself up and dressed.

They'd quickly realized that Megan would need help dressing or undressing for a bit after returning home. Any sense of modesty either she or Hank had went out the window pretty quick. It had been a struggle at first for her, but all it took was one good jolt to her sore shoulder before she gave in and called for help. On Hank's side, he was just too relieved that she still trusted him enough to ask for help to worry about his hormones. 

Megan came to the bathroom door and sighed. "Can you help me get the lid off my moisturizer and sunscreen? I tried, but I can't do it one-handed."

Hank smiled sympathetically. "Of course, mi princessa."

Twenty-five minutes and many curses later, they were both dressed. Megan was in another pair of leggings with a long tank top over them. Hank had helped ease it over her cast and shoulder along with one of his flannels. The day was unseasonably cool for Calexico.

She shakily sat on her stool at her dressing table and wiped the cold sweat from her face. Hank pressed a soft kiss to her lips. "Thank you for helping me. I know this isn't exactly normal…"

Hank chuckled and knelt in front of her. "What about us is? Princessa… I'm here. I'm not going anywhere just because you need some extra help." He lifted her good hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Even if you are a terrible patient."

She grinned and leaned forward to kiss him. "I know. I'm sorry."

"At least take some ibuprofen or something? I hate seeing you in pain like this."

She sighed and nodded. "Alright. And I'll take the strong shit tonight so maybe you'll get some sleep."

"Good girl." He kissed her swiftly and stood to go get her some pain relief missing her flinch at his praise. 

Taza heard him rustling in the hallway bathroom medicine cabinet and came to check. "She finally gonna take something?"

"Yeah. If I can find something that won't make her high." He found some old Tylenol in the back of the cabinet. "I'm calling Dogwood today. See if they can get us some stronger ibuprofen or something. Maybe she'll take that."

"Good plan, brother. I'll get Bish to send the prospect. She ready for her hair?"

"Probably. She let me brush it, but that's as far as I can go."

"That's my que…"

After getting her hair braided and taking the Tylenol, they were finally ready to head out for the scrapyard.

Megan’s eyes lit up a bit at the surprise ride Bishop had sent her. In the driveway was a classic Mustang convertible with the top already down. It shone scarlet and chrome in the sun.

"Who's car did we steal?" She asked excitedly.

Taza laughed outright. "No one's, Chica. Just borrowed from a club friend until you can ride again. Came all the way down from Northern Cali."

Hank chuckled. "Who called the  Reaper?"

"No one. Happy sent his prospect down with it. Belongs to one of his guys."

"Happy? Isn't he the one who…" Megan looked up at her father.

"Found you. Yeah. He's… different." Taza went and opened the passenger door for her. "You won't have to be around him much though. He's too high up the Reaper food chain to make regular runs down here. Your Padrinos like him though."

Megan slid into the car and allowed Taza to help her buckle her seat belt. "Well, he has great taste in cars."

Hank chuckled and moved his seat back. "Oh yeah, Princessa? Maybe we should see about getting you one of these then."

The ride to the club house was quiet except for the radio and wind. Hank watched the lines of Megan’s body as he drove and noted how she relaxed at the feel of the breeze. He knew she'd missed riding behind him, but he just couldn't risk it with her injured. He reached out and held her left hand gently as he drove, placing kisses on her knuckles at each stop sign.

Creeper was manning the gate and rolled it fully open so Hank could get the car through to the lot. He met them at the car as Hank parked it. "Mornin' Hank, Little Princess." He opened her door with a dramatic flair. "You alright, sweetheart? How's the arm?"

Megan smiled and slid out the car to give him a side hug. "Morning. I'm good. Still a little sore, but nothing awful."

Creeper nodded. "All the same, we sent the prospect to fill a 'scrip."

"Thanks, 'mano," Hank said as he unfolded himself from the car. "Everyone here already?"

"Yeah. Bish called Templo in the bar again so Megan can be at the table. Chuckie is making breakfast after."

Taza joined them stripping off his riding gloves. "Any idea what this is about, brother? Bish was cryptic on the phone."

"Nah, but he had a call from El Padrino this morning." Creeper bounded up the stairs to hold the door open for Megan as she led the way inside. 

Inside, tables had been pushed together for the promised family breakfast after templo. Everyone was seated and smoking or sipping on coffee as they chatted. Morning greetings were exchanged as Taza, Hank and Megan made their way to the chairs waiting for them. 

Bishop rose to meet them. “Buenos días, Poquito. How’s the arm?” He spread his arms to offer her a hug,

She eagerly accepted, resting under his chin for a moment. “Sore, Padrino. Sorry to keep everyone waiting. I’m still trying to get the hang of getting dressed one handed.”

“No problem, cariño.” He pressed a kiss to her hairline. “And the Prospect should be picking up your new meds now. Your papa says you haven’t been taking any.”

“Thank you, Bish, for arranging that. She’s in a lot more pain than she’s letting on,” Taza sighed. “And thank Happy for the loan of the car. She definitely can’t ride.”

“You can thank him yourself.” He let out a piercing whistle and guided Megan into her seat on Taza’s left, “Alright. Let’s talk so that we can eat.”

Everyone situated themselves comfortably and looked to Bishop.

“El Padrino called today. Apparently the Reaper wants to talk. They want a sit down with the officers of as many allied charters from California as they can get at a lodge outside of Charming. Padrino called to ask that we join them there in two days.”

Taza shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “All officers? We can’t leave Megan yet for a run, brother.” He placed a hand gently on her back. “She’s not healed enough-”

“Not to mention not ready to be out of arms reach of at least one of us for more than a few minutes at a time…” Hank interjected.

Megan reached and took his hand. “If it’s needed - it’s needed. Tío Marcus wouldn’t ask unless he needed you both.” She looked to Taza shakily. “You know he wouldn’t. He didn’t even want to go home until I was back on my feet.”

Both Hank and Taza started to protest again, but Bishop raised a pacifying hand. “Poquito is right.” Megan nodded. “But so are both of you. That’s why she’s coming along. Marcus has promised that Megan can join in everything except the actual meeting. Even then he’s bringing Diana and Tessa to sit with her while we do actual business.” He smiled. “You finally get to meet your cousin, Poquito.”

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Do we know what the Scot wants?” Riz asked. “Gotta be big to be calling a meeting with so many outside of their own club.”

“Not a clue. Some kind of business update. We’ll find out when we get there. If it has to come to the table - we’ll come back and vote it.” Bishop said as he lit another cigarette. 

Hank slid his arm across the back of Megan’s chair so he didn’t put weight on her sore shoulder. “Are we sure about taking ALL the officers? Sounds like a Trojan Horse waiting to happen to me.”

Creeper raised a hand. “Seconded. That’s a risk Prez.”

Bishop nodded. “We’ve been at peace with the Son’s for over eight years, but they’ve turned on us before. This should be a cake walk - but I agree there’s no sense in risking it. Upper officers only then. Creeper and Riz will hang back.”

Megan watched them all nod soberly. “Shouldn’t you take another member then? Someone who can run a message if needed?” She looked at Hank and then at Taza and Bishop. “I know it’s not my place to speak on club matters, but they could be passed off as babysitting me while Papa and Hank do business. Still makes us look a little paranoid - but more so about me freaking out than a double cross.”

Bishop smiled. “Smart thinking, Poquito. This is why we’re holding Templo where you can join. You can always speak when we have you at the table.”

Hank laughed. “Besides - you know Diana is going to have her own escort. Padrino won’t risk having no one there for her to send for whatever Tessa decides she wants. He’ll probably have at least a patch and a prospect with him.”

Taza chuckled. “Truth. All reinas and princessas need to have a guard.”

Bishop just smiled. “You want Coco or Gilly, Poquito? Your errand boy - your choice.”

Megan looked down the table at both men. Coco met her eyes first and smiled around his cigarette. “I’ll come along, Ma. Give me a break from Letty moving in.”

Gilly nodded. “Suits me. I’ve got a date.”

Megan nodded and turned back to Bishop. “Coco then, please Padrino.”

Bishop banged that table with his fist causing Megan to jump a bit. “Fair enough. Then myself, Taza and Coco will ride out with Hank and Megan in the loaner tomorrow morning.” He stubbed out his cigarette and smiled. “Let’s eat!”

Breakfast with the family was exactly what Megan needed. Hank kept a close eye on her body language to see if she was getting overwhelmed. He was pleased to see her begin to relax with someone besides himself and Taza again. 

Chuckie brought her a plate of pancakes and bacon with an awkward little bow while everyone else served themselves from the bar. Gilly made her a cup of coffee - without having to be reminded of how she took it. Angel cracked jokes to make her laugh, and Creeper sneakily cut her food for her when he saw her struggling while trying to talk to Riz about the girls at Vickie’s place. 

He and Taza breathed a sigh of relief. Megan wasn’t panicking around her family. They hadn’t been sure how the kidnapping would affect her in the short term. It had only been about a week since she’d been taken. 

Eventually though, Megan got so distracted in the family that she forgot about her broken collarbone. She tried to reach for her glass of juice with her right hand and Hank saw her go pale with pain. 

“Easy, Princessa. Easy,” he soothed, letting her squeeze his fingers as her eyes teared.

“Woah, Ma. I don’t like that color. You good?” Coco asked seriously.

Megan just nodded and pressed her lips together until they went white. 

Hank glanced around to see Taza headed his way with a pill bottle that the Prospect had handed him a few minutes before. “Shh. Come ‘ere, mi Princessa.” Hank slid her carefully into his lap so that he could steady her and take some of the weight from her sling. “You papa’s got your new meds. You ready to take them now?”

Megan breathed deeply and pressed her face into the crook of his neck. Hank could feel tears on his skin. “They won’t make me floaty?”

“No, Sweet Chica. These won’t make you floaty. They’re just ibuprofen at a higher dose than normal.” Taza shook two out into Hank’s palm and then capped the bottle. 

“Why won’t she take the meds, man? Angel asked Creeper quietly as they all settled down a bit.

Creeper looked at him seriously. “Dude, Little Princess won’t even give up control to drink. SHe must hate being high even worse.” Creeper explained as they watched her swallow the pain relief. 

Coco shook his head. “It’s a damn good thing that bastard died in the crash…” he lit a cigarette and puffed deeply.

Even Angel nodded soberly. “Ain’t that the truth.”

EZ appeared behind Hank and leaned in to whisper into his ear. “Her sling is too loose. There's a better kind at the drug store by Pop’s place. Want me to go get it? It’ll stop her from moving like that.”

Hank nodded and eased her further into his lap so she could rest. “Sure Prospect. Let me know how much.”

EZ nodded and went right back out to his bike. 

Megan snuggled close. “He didn’t even get to eat…” she objected quietly.

Taza sat in her abandoned chair and adjusted her sling slightly from the back. “He’ll eat when he gets back, Chica.” He looked to Bishop. “We should look into getting the prospect some medic training. He seems to have a knack for it.”

Angel spoke up from the other end of the table. “He was in school to be a doctor.”

Bishop looked thoughtful. “We’ll see. Kids gotta patch first.” He leaned back in his chair and lit a cigar while watching Hank rearrange Megan yet again so she was straddling his lap and she could rest against him completely as she recovered. He looked to Taza. “Poquito have everything she needs for a trip to Charming town?”

Taza thought for a second. “Letty’s shopping spree should have covered clothes. I’ve got a spare duffle and it’s not like we need to pack light with the car. She should be fine.”

Bishop chuckled lightly. “Not like Diana won’t take her shopping anyway if she needs anything. Tessa is excited as hell. She talked to me this morning too.” He puffed quietly for a second. “I’ll stay at Oakland’s club house. Marcus only has the one guest room.”

Taza nodded. “We’ll put Hank and Megan in there. I’ll crash on his couch so I’m still close enough for her.”

Creeper slid his chair close to where his president and Taza were talking quietly. “You sure you want me to hang back here, Bish? Hank’s going to be distracted as hell if Little Princess needs him. And you know she’ll probably have at least one panic attack while you’re gone. I don’t like being that far if y’all need me.”

Bishop nodded. “It should be a cake walk. Just an update and maybe a party. Not expecting trouble, ‘mano.”

Creeper sipped his water. “Princessa’s first Reaper Run…”

Taza grinned. “Wait until we get her healed up. Hank is itching to teach her to ride. I caught him browsing small bikes on his phone two days ago even though we said we’d do it.”

That got another chuckle from Bishop. “She’ll be real cute riding along on the easy runs. She’s going to need a job.”

Taza shook his head and laughed. “She’s going to end up basically a member, isn’t she?”

“Nah, brother,” Bishop grinned. “She’ll out rank members.”

Meanwhile, Hank chatted quietly with the younger Mayans as Megan rested against him with her head tucked under his chin. He tried not to grin and draw attention to it when she went limp. The pain medicine had kicked in allowing her to doze off. He tucked her legs closer to his body to give her better support and smiled. 

Coco was the first to notice Megan’s lack of involvement in the conversation. He craned his neck to check her face. “Dude - she’s out cold.”

Hank chuckled and nodded. “She hasn’t been sleeping much. Too much pain.”

“She still having nightmares every night?” Angel asked as he settled back in his chair.

He nodded. “Always her brother now though. Not the ex.”

Gilly snorted quietly into his coffee cup. “No shit. Hard to be scared of mince meat.”

Megan whimpered as she shifted and all the men paused to see if she’d wake. When she settled down again they all breathed a sigh of relief.

Taza caught the silence and turned to observe his brothers with his daughter. All of them had unintentionally softened their voices as she dozed. Even Angel was controlling his tone. He chuckled as Riz rose to retrieve the blanket that had suddenly taken up residence on the back of the club house couch. It was gently tucked around Megan to keep off the breeze. Early October was chillier than normal this year and no one wanted a stray draft to wake the sleeping girl.

Bishop joined in on the chuckle. “Should we start renting them out as nursemaids?” He puffed his cigar.

Creeper laughed. “Like anyone’s going to trust them with a kid. We’re lucky if they can brew coffee reliably half the time.”

All the men laughed quietly and chatted until the rumble of EZ’s bike startled Megan awake. She jumped and then whimpered quietly at the motion.

“Easy, mi princessa. Just the prospect coming back.” Hank pressed a kiss to her hair and soothed her with a hand down her spine.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to doze off.” She rubbed her face with her good hand and shifted as if to get up.

“Nah, girl. Stay put. The prospect can come to you,” Angel said stubbing out his cigarette. “And you look like you needed the sleep. You got circles dark enough under those big brown eyes to make someone think you’re a raccoon.”

Megan giggled a little and looked up at Hank. “Am I putting your legs to sleep?”

“Shit girl - you don’t weigh enough to put his legs to sleep!” Gilly said. 

Hank threw a balled up napkin at the two idiots. “Leave her alone, you two. And no, mi princessa, you’re fine.”

Gilly opened his mouth again and Coco smacked the back of his head. “Damn. No wonder I’m her favorite and she picked me to go along. Sheesh.” He grinned at Megan. “Shitheads’ always gotta comment, huh?”

That immediately started a play fight between the three younger men about who was Megan’s favortie as Riz egged it on.

EZ slipped inside with a box. “This should help you keep your arm still better, Princessa.” He smiled that charming Reyes smile and handed it to Hank. “It works like the regular sling by supporting the weight, but it also straps it to your chest for less movement. They used them all the time on baseball injuries.”

“Thanks, EZ.” Megan smiled up at him and stood so that Hank could help her switch out the slings.

[highher]

Little Italy, nyc 🗽

[jonathan-parra-acero]

- A lo largo de la historia, cosas terribles le han sucedido a este pueblo. Injusticias horribles. Pero ellos, siguen esperando, no cosas malas, sino buenas.

- Como tú y yo, ¿eh?

- ¿Cómo?

- Digo, aun estoy aquí, ¿no? Tenemos una mala historia, pero sigo aquí.

- Ah, sí, aquí estás. Pero con miedo. ¡Dame la orden! ¡Anda! ¡Dímelo!

- ¿Se supone que así ya no te tenga miedo?

- Estamos en Sicilia. Es ópera. Bien, ¿qué hacemos ahora?

- Ser razonables. Intentar no herirnos el uno al otro.

- Quiero que me perdones.

- ¿Por qué?

- Por todo.

- Ah, como Dios, ¿eh?

- No, necesito algo un poco más cercano.

El Padrino III - 1990

[mags-cp]

[bullet-prooflove]

Hiii! Can we get "he's holding onto you so tight the way I did before" with Neron or a Mayan character of your own choosing? (bcs I know whoever you'd choose would fit perfectly)

Marcus has loved you for a long time, longer than he can count. It’s been a couple of months since he ended things, shit had gone south with the Niners and they’d started killing off Mayans up in Oakland. There’s been a green light put out on him and he couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to you, so he’d cut you loose. It’s one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make. The life isn’t kind to men like him, or their families. He never explained the real reason he broke up with you, the truth is he knew you would never leave if he did. You’re loyal and fierce, qualities that he fell in love with.

Now that it’s over he knows it’s time to tell you the truth.

When he parks up outside your house, he doesn’t expect to see another bike there, especially not one he recognises.  A bike can be as identifiable as a fingerprint, and he knows that the man inside of your house is one of his brothers.

Downer from Yuma.

When he sees the other man embrace you, his lips brushing over your cheek. He knows that the two of you have been intimate. The way his hands rest on your hips through the coral-coloured robe, his smile when he leans in close and whispers something in your ear. You tip your head back and laugh and Marcus knows he’s lost you.

He watches as Downer kisses you. Instead of leaving, he walks you back inside, the door closing once more behind him. Marcus guns his engine before pulling away from the curb.

This pain he’s feeling right now, this agony, he knows it’s all on him.

He did this to you and he did this to himself.