#it's kind of hart to tell from this angle but the hair is all pushed up against that one side with an undercut underneath

[carewyncromwell]

“When you're weak, I'll be strong... I'm gonna keep holdin’ on! Now don't you worry: it won't be long... Darling, if you feel like hope is gone, Just run into my arms --  I'm only one call away... I'll be there to save the day... Superman got nothin’ on me --  I'm only one...I'm only one...call away...”

~“One Call Away (cover)” by Karlijn Verhagen & Mike Attinger

x~x~x~x

Carewyn’s dress robes based on this design -- so good to draw the outer sleeves more accurately than my original sketch, after making several mistakes with them I couldn’t fix in post the first time!

x~x~x~x

Oh gosh, some actually canon Carion content!! My dears, it has been a while... 🥰

For those of you who don’t know my personal canon for Orion post-Hogwarts, our favorite Quidditch Papa Bear enters into a couple of short-lived relationships while playing for the Montrose Magpies Quidditch team as their Chaser and later Captain, even though after seeing her Patronus that matches his right before he graduates, he’s left wondering if he and Carewyn could’ve been a thing romantically, if he’d both figured it out sooner and been brave enough to broach the issue with her. The most important of those relationships for Orion resulted in his beloved daughter Eos, who Orion took sole custody of after her mother abandoned both her and him in the midst of the Wizarding War, right before the fall of the Ministry. Since he was an orphan with no knowledge of his magical ancestry, Orion had to then go on the run from the Muggle-Born Registration Commission with baby Eos, only to get cornered and caught when he tried to covertly buy a replacement for his broken wand. While in custody, Orion kept Eos (strapped safely to his chest with a makeshift wrap) under his cloak in a desperate attempt to prevent their separation, pretending that she was his arm and that it was broken to explain why he wouldn’t let anyone touch or examine it too closely. Thankfully, when Orion and Eos arrived at the Department of Mysteries awaiting a trial and sentencing, several resistance members at the Ministry secretly broke in to rescue the most recent prisoners -- and one of those resistance members was Carewyn, still working under the radar in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. 

Once Carewyn managed to smuggle Orion and Eos out, she sent him to stay with another resistance member -- an associate of her brother Jacob, who was also hiding fugitives in his London flat Secret-Annex-style -- where he and Eos could remain safely in hiding. As they parted, Orion couldn’t help but look upon this woman he hadn’t seen in person in six years with a kind of anxiety he hadn’t felt since the Quidditch Cup: one inspired and touched beyond words, but concerned for her well-being, as well. 

“...I should think it would be pointless, to encourage you to hide as well.”

Carewyn’s face turned very grim as she shook her head.

“If I do, then I lose the position I have which can help me help others hide,” she said. She looked away, her expression becoming sadder. “...There’s so little I can do, right now. There are so many people I can’t help -- that I’ve failed to help...”

“You’ve helped me,” Orion said gently. “And Eos, as well. And for that...”

His black eyes rippled with emotion despite himself.

“...I lack the words needed, to express how I feel about that. The...gratitude I feel for it.”

Carewyn looked up at him, her almond-shaped blue eyes betraying deep emotion despite the brave smile she put on. She brought her arms around him, one holding the back of his neck in a hug and the other lightly resting beside the wrap holding Eos. 

“There’s no way I would’ve let them hurt you, Orion,” she said quietly. “You or Eos.” 

There were so many things Orion felt like he wanted to say, but he knew their time was short, and he ultimately lost his nerve. Even with this, though, his parting words to Carewyn were resolute --

“Next time we meet, it shall be because I have come found you -- hopefully in a more peaceful world.”

And Carewyn’s response was said through another resilient, pretty smile --

“I'll try to make that world come soon.”

Sure enough, after the War was over, Orion stopped by Carewyn’s office at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, both to acquire some help on behalf of the newly reformed Quidditch League and to follow up with Carewyn about her letters regarding the solidification of his legal custody over Eos.  And it was through this reconnection that both Orion and Carewyn truly realized how destined for each other they truly were. 

[aion-rsa]

The Public Enemy Solidified Gang Rule Under James Cagney for 90 Years

https://ift.tt/3vfQifQ

William Wellman’s The Public Enemy (1931) turns 90 this weekend. When the film first came out, a theater in Times Square showed it nonstop, 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The movie marks the true beginning of gangster movies as a genre. Mervyn LeRoy’s Little Caesar may have hit theaters first, but The Public Enemy set the pattern, and James Cagney nailed the patter. Not just the street talk either; he also understood its machine gun delivery. His Tommy Powers is just a hoodlum, never a boss. He is a button man at best, even if he insisted his suits have six buttons.

The Public Enemy character wasn’t even as high up the ladder as Paul Sorvino’s caporegime Paul Cicero in Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas. But Cagney secured the turf Edward G. Robinson’s Rico Bandello took a bullet to claim in Little Caesar, and for the rest of his career Cagney never let it go.

Some would argue genre films began in 1931. Besides mob movies, the year introduced the newspaper picture with Lewis Milestone’s The Front Page and John Cromwell’s Scandal Sheet; Universal Pictures began an unholy run of horror classics via Tod Browning’s Dracula and James Whale’s Frankenstein, with the two turning Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff into household names; and Howard Hawks’ Scarface would land the knockout for the gangster genre, even if it didn’t get released until 1932.

Sadly, the classic “Gangster Film” run only lasted one production season, from 1930 to 1931, and less than 30 films were made during it. Archie Mayo’s The Doorway to Hell started the ball rolling in 1930, when it became a surprise box office hit. It stars Lew Ayres as the top mug, with Cagney as his sidekick. For fans of pre-Code Hollywood, it is highly recommended. It includes a kidnapping scene which results in the death of a kid on the street. Without a speck of blood or any onscreen evidence, it is cinematically shocking in its impact.

Both Little Caesar and The Public Enemy earned their street cred, defying the then-toothless 1930 Motion Picture Production Code, which preceded the Hays Code. After New York censors cut six scenes from The Public Enemy to clear it for release, the Motion Picture Producers and Distributors of America (MPPDA) set further guidelines for the proper cinematic depiction of crime.

Public Enemy director Wellman was an expert in multiple genres. He spit out biting satires like Nothing Sacred (1937) and Roxie Hart (1942), and captured gritty, dark realities in The Ox-Bow Incident (1943) and Story of G.I. Joe (1945). He won his only Oscar for A Star Is Born (1937). The Public Enemy is the first example of what would be his trademark: stylish cinematography and clever camera-work. The dark suspense he captures is completely different from the look of German expressionism. It captured the overcast shadows of urban reality and would influence the look of later noir films. His main character would inspire generations of actors.

“That’s just like you, Tom Powers. You’re the meanest boy in town.”

Orson Welles lauded James Cagney as “maybe the greatest actor who ever appeared in front of a camera.” Will Rogers said watching Cagney perform was “like a bunch of firecrackers going off all at once.” The New York City born performer explodes in this movie. Even in black and white, Cagney’s red hair flares through the air like sulfur on a match. It turns out to be a slow burn, which will reach its ultimate climax in 1949’s White Heat. The Public Enemy is loaded with top talent, but you can’t take your eyes off Cagney. Not even for a second. You might miss some tiny detail, like the flash of a grin, a wink, or a barely perceptible glare.

Cagney had a simple rule to acting: All you had to do was to look the other person straight in the eyes and say your lines. “But mean them.” In The Public Enemy, the characters communicate without lines. When Tom and Matt Doyle (Edward Woods) sneak a peek into Larry the Limp’s casket, we understand this is the first time the two young thugs lost someone their own age. The scene barely implies how fortunate they are not to be in that box, but their curiosity is as palpable as the loss of their last shred of innocence.

Cagney was originally cast as Matt, and scenes were shot with him in the role. The parts were switched mid-production, but they didn’t reshoot the flashback scenes, making it look like the pair swapped bodies between 1909 and 1915. It’s a shame because Frankie Darro, who plays the young Matt, made a career out of playing baby face Cagney, and later joined the East Side Kids franchise.

Former “Our Gang” actor Frank Coghlan Jr. took on the role of young Tom. He takes the lashes from his cop father’s belt, backtalking him the whole time. Tom Powers is reprehensible. He never says thank you and doesn’t shake hands. He delights in the violence and sadism. Powers doesn’t go into crime because of poverty; he just can’t be contained. Cagney’s mobster mangles, manhandles, maims and murders, and still needs more room in his inseam. 

Dames, Molls, and Grapefruits

Besides defying the ban on romanticizing criminals, both The Public Enemy and Little Caesar broke sexual codes. There are explicit signs that Rico Bandello represses his sexuality in Caesar. Scenes between him and his friend Joe, and his gunman Otera, thinly veil homoerotic overtones. Public Enemy’s Powers, by contrast, subtly encourages the gay tailor who is openly hitting on him.

There are strong indications Putty Nose (Murray Kinnell) is grooming Tommy and Matt for more than just fenced goods. Look at the way Putty sticks his ass in Powers’ face while he is shooting pool. Putty Nose’s execution at the piano is creepily informed by the unspoken sins between the men. Tommy relishes the kill.

However, Tommy doesn’t relish being manhandled when he’s too drunk to notice. While the gang goes to the mattresses in the movie’s gang war, Tommy is raped by Jane (Mia Marvin), his boss Paddy’s girl. Powers protests the best he can, but the camera angles leave no doubt. Tommy wakes up hungover, horrified, and feeling impotent. Matt, however, has no trouble getting “busy” with his girlfriend Mamie, played by Joan Blondell, in one of the scenes trimmed by the censors.  Blondell, Jean Harlow, and Mae Clarke, who plays Tommy’s girlfriend Kitty, represent a glitzy cross-section of white Roaring Twenties glamour. In the opening credits, when Harlow and Blondell smile at the camera, male audience members of the time blushed.

Harlow was Hollywood’s original “Blonde Bombshell,” starring in the movie that coined the term. Her earthy comic performances would make her a major star at MGM, but she was a dud to critics of The Public Enemy. Hers was the only part which was criticized, and the reviewers were brutal, declaring her voice untrained and her presence boring.

Harlow’s greatest asset had to be contained within the Pre-Code era. Straddled with a wordy part as a slumming society dame, she is directed to slow her lines to counter the quick patter of the rest of the cast. Yet Harlow uses that to her benefit in the film’s best moment of sexual innuendo. While telling Tommy about “the men I’ve known,” she pauses, and appears to be calculating them in her head before she says, “And I’ve known dozens of them.” When an evening alone with Tommy is cut short, Gwen’s exasperation over the coitus interruptus is palpable. Members of the Catholic Legion of Decency probably had to go to confession after viewing the film for slicing.

Most people know The Public Enemy for the famous grapefruit scene where Powers pushes a grapefruit into his girlfriend’s face. “I wish you was a wishing well,” he warns, “so that I could tie a bucket to you and sink ya.” Tommy treats women like property. They are status symbols, the same as clothes or cars. Kitty’s passive-aggressive hints at commitment get on Tom’s nerves. He can only express himself through violence. There are rumors Cagney, who would go on to rough up Virginia Mayo in White Heat and brutalize Doris Day in Love Me or Leave Me, didn’t warn Clarke he was going to use her face as a juicer. According to the autobiography Cagney by Cagney, Clarke’s ex-husband Lew Brice loved the scene so much he watched it a few times a day, timing his entrance into the theater to catch it and leave.

Both actors have said it was staged as a practical joke to see how the film crew would react. It wasn’t meant to make the final cut. Wellman told TCM he added it because he always wanted to do that to his wife. The writer reportedly wrote the scene as a kind of wish-fulfilling fantasy.

The screenplay was written by Harvey F. Thew. It was based on Beer and Blood by John Bright and Kubec Glasmon. The unpublished novel fleshed out press accounts of the bootlegging Northside gang leaders, Charles Dion “Deanie” O’Banion, Earl “Hymie” Weiss, and Louis “Two-Gun” Alterie. Cagney based his Tommy Powers character on O’Banion and Altiere. Edward Woods was doing his take on Weiss. The book reflected the headlines in the Chicago papers, which reported Weiss smashed an omelet into his girlfriend’s face.

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The Public Enemy borrowed from the day’s headlines in other ways too. Hymie Weiss was assassinated in October 1926. It was the first reported “machine-gun nest” murder. It is recreated in the killing of Matt Doyle. While shooting the sequence, Cagney ducked real machine gun fire to bring authenticity to the scene. Also taken from real life is the fact that after O’Banion was killed in ‘24, Alterie’s first reaction was to do public battle with the killers. This is similar to Tommy’s final shootout at Schemer Burns’ nightclub headquarters.

Leslie Fenton’s dashing mob captain Nails Nathan (“born Samuel”) flashes the greatest grin in mob movie history. He is based on Samuel “Nails” Morton, a member of O’Banion’s mob. Both “Nails” were driven to their coffins the way it is depicted in The Public Enemy. The real Morton died in a riding accident in 1923, and “Two-Gun” Alterie and some of the other gang members went back to the stables, rented the horse which kicked Nails in the head, and shot the animal. Mario Puzo may have been inspired by this scene when he wrote The Godfather. It is not only tie to the Francis Ford Coppola movie. Oranges have as much vitamin C as grapefruits. Another similarity between the two films is the threat of being kidnapped from the hospital by a rival gang.

The Powers brothers’ relationship vaguely echoes the one between war hero Michael and Sonny Corleone, who believes, as his father does, soldiers were “saps” to risk their lives for strangers. Donald Cook, who played Mike Powers, didn’t pull any punches on the set. In the scene where he knocks Tom into the table before going off to war, he really connects. Wellman told Cook to do it without warning so he could get that look of surprise. Cook broke one of Cagney’s teeth, but Cagney stayed in character and finished the scene.

“It is a wicked business.”

After the stock market crash, get-rich-quick schemes seemed the only way through the Great Depression. The gangster was an acceptable headline hero during Prohibition because the law was unpopular with the press. But after 1929, the gangster became the scapegoat villain. The Public Enemy was the ninth highest grossing film of 1931. But the genre lost its appeal after April of that year, as studios pumped out pale imitations and audiences got tired of the saturation, according to the book Violence and American Cinema, edited by J. David Slocum. Religious and civic groups accused Hollywood of romanticizing crime and glamorizing gangsters.

The Public Enemy opens with a dire warning: Don’t be a gangster. Hoodlums and terrorists of the underworld should not be glamorized. The only MPAA rule the film didn’t break was portraying an alliance between organized crime and politics. The studios passed the films off as cautionary tales which were meant to deflate the gangster’s appeal by ridiculing their false heroism.

Through this hand-wringing, however, Cagney turns false heroics on its head with the comic brilliance of a Mack Sennett short. Stuck without a gun, he robs a gun store armed with nothing but moxie. Powers never rises in the organization. He takes orders and whatever the boss says is a good cut, only asking for more money once from Putty Nose. Unlike Rico, who rose to be boss among bosses, Powers has no power to lose. This is just the first gig he landed since he was a regular “ding ding” driving a streetcar, and it connected with audiences like a sock on the button. They identified with the scrappy killer, and it surprised them.

Even Gwen notices Tommy is “very different, and it isn’t only a difference in manner and outward appearances. It’s a difference in basic character.” Strict Freudians might lay this on his mother (Beryl Mercer), the greatest enabler Cagney will see until White Heat. Ma Powers’ little boy is a budding psychopath knocking off half the North Side, but look at the head on his beer. For audiences at the time, Tom was the smiling, fresh-scrubbed face of evil. He is consistently unsympathetic but likable from the moment he hits the opening credits.

Like Malcom McDowell’s Alex in A Clockwork Orange, he is the fiend’s best friend. Even if it is Tommy’s fault his best pal Matt gets killed. While Cagney spent his career ducking his “you dirty, double-crossing, rat” line from Taxi, the actor wasn’t afraid to play one in Powers. He’s not a rat in the sense he’d snitch on anyone. He’s the last of the pack who sticks it out for his pals when his back is up against the wall.

A Hail of Bullets

Tommy Powers goes by this credo: live fast, die young, and leave a corpse so riddled with bullets, not even his mother can look at his body when he’s done. But then, no one can end a film like Cagney. He’s danced down the White House stairs in Yankee Doodle Dandy (1942), been rolled across the concrete steps of a city church in The Roaring Twenties (1939), and was blown to kingdom come in White Heat. He gets two death scenes in The Public Enemy, a rain-soaked climax, and a denouement as scary as The Mummy. Tommy only brings one gun to the gang fight, and by the time he hits the pavement, he’s got more holes in him than the city sewage system.

“I ain’t so tough,” Tommy says on his final roll into the gutter. Cagney’s first professional job was in a musical drag act on the Vaudeville circuit, and he called himself a “song and dance man” long after retirement. For The Public Enemy, conductor David Mendoza led the Vitaphone Orchestra through such period hits as “Toot Toot Tootsie (Goodbye),” “Smiles,” and “I Surrender Dear.” But the song “I’m Forever Blowing Bubbles” is the one which lingers in the memory. Martin Scorsese has cited it as a reason his films are so filled with recognizable music.

Street violence comes with a natural soundtrack. Transistor radios accompany takedowns. Boom boxes blast during shakedowns. Car stereos boost the bass during drive-by shootings. In The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight, mobsters feed quarters into a jukebox to cover up sounds of a beating.

In The Godfather, Part II, a street band plays traditional Italian songs while Vito Corleone puts bullets in the neighborhood Black Hand, Don Fanucci. The last thing we hear in the abrupt close to the mob series The Sopranos is a Journey song. The first thing Tommy’s mother does when she hears her boy is coming home from the hospital is drop a needle on a record.

The ending leaves us with two questions: Who killed Tommy, and what’s his brother going to do about it? We figure whoever did the job on Powers was probably a low-level button man from Schemer’s rival outfit. Probably even lower down the ladder than Tommy, and on his way up, until another Tommy comes along. Crime only pays in the movies, Edward G. Robinson often joked.

Mike’s reaction to the bandaged corpse is ambiguous. He’s already shown outward signs of the trauma following the horrors of war. Is he clenching his fists in anguish or anger? Is he broken by the battlefield or marching off in vengeance, a soldier on one last duty? Cook’s exit can go either way.

After 90 years, The Public Enemy is still fresh. It’s aged better than Little Caesar or Scarface. Cagney wouldn’t play a gangster again until 1938, but the image is etched so deeply in the persona, audiences forget the vagaries of villainy Hollywood could spin, and the range of characters Cagney could play. He and the film continue to influence filmmakers, inform culture, and surprise audiences. Tommy Powers was just a mug, but those streets are still his.

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[ontherockswithsalt]

This Charming Man - Something To Wear

A Joble Fanfic

Rating: E

(previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5) | (ao3 story link)

A/N: This was a classic scene to rewrite and I hope you like it lol. Adding Bianca into the mix made it more fun.

Chapter 6.

“Bianca.”

“Who is this?” My sister’s scratchy voice mumbles on the other end of the line.

“It’s me!” I angle the receiver closer to my mouth before I pick up the hotel phone from the nightstand and pull it onto the bed.

“Noble,” she realizes and I can hear her shifting around. I obviously woke her up. “I tried calling you all night. You never answered.”

“I haven’t been home.”

“Are you okay?”

“Guess where I am.”

“Oh jeez.” She groans. “I told you if you get arrested, to use your one phone call on Bobby because I don’t have bail money--”

“No listen.” I blow that off, refusing to acknowledge that of all places, she assumes I’m in jail. “A guy picked me up last night -- in a fucking Lotus Esprit -- and I’m in his penthouse at the Waldorf Hotel.”

“What?” She shouts.

“Yeah,” I laugh. “And get this. He wants me to stay the week and he’s gonna pay me three thousand dollars.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No.”

“What’s up with him?” She wonders.

“I don’t really know.”

“Is he… like, deranged?”

I chuckle. “No. Well. He doesn’t seem to be.”

“Ugly?”

“He’s…” And I pause, closing my eyes because I need to stop believing that he’s so goddamn attractive. It’s going to get me in over my head. “Decent-looking.”

“What sort of-- No, don’t answer that.”

“It’s like he just wants someone to hang out with him for the week.”

“That can’t be it,” she doubts.

“But here’s the thing. I have to go to fancy dinners and shit with him because he’s some big deal and I’m supposed to wear a suit. So will you help me?”

___

“Can’t we just go to Canal Street?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at my sister and book it through the crosswalk. “I’ve seen this sign in my neighborhood -- two suits for thirty dollars. They’ll custom fit.”

“Noble, that place has roast duck hanging in the window, you’re not getting a suit there.”

“They sell the suits out of the back.”

"No. You need something nice," she insists. "This guy is expecting you to look the part. That's why we're on Madison Avenue."

I peer up at the sleek designer storefronts, one right after another, and I sort of dread the idea of spending money up here. But obviously Bianca doesn’t because she tugs on my arm and hurries over to one of the shops.

Inside I don't even know what I'm looking at. Backlit shelves feature like, one tie displayed next to a rack with minimal options of white shirts. As we peruse, I flip over a price tag on a sleeve and see six hundred and something dollars before I flick it from my fingers and move on. 

"Is there something I can help you with?" One woman proposes, whose gaze has been trailing us from the front counter since we came in here. 

Bianca speaks up. "Oh, we're just looking."

I glance over and offer my best attempt at a pleasant smile but I know I just make her uncomfortable.

"What is it you're looking for?" A man -- probably the manager and definitely gay -- rounds one of the displays and feels compelled to join in this investigation. He eyes me, and not in the intrigued way Jamie does, but like he can't believe I've set foot in his store in a shirt I've had since high school and jeans I stole from an ex. 

I chew nervously on the edge of my thumb. "I uh… was checking out your suits," I tell him. Then I look over and spot a headless mannequin in what looks like a normal enough suit. "How much is this?"

The manager, with his John Waters mustache that he's not pulling off, tilts his head. "I don't think that would fit you."

A puff of a laugh escapes me. "I didn't ask if it would fit. I asked how much it was."

He blinks over at his associate. "How much is that suit, Annette?"

The woman, wearing big dangling earrings, her bleached, almost white hair pulled back tight narrows her gaze. "It's very expensive."

He looks at me and echoes, "It's very expensive."

"Listen," Bianca pipes up. "We've got money to spend in here--"

"Hey." I stop her with a subtle touch on her arm. "Don't." These assholes would call the cops for nothing. 

"I think you're in the wrong place," the manager tells us. "And you should leave."

"Oh," my sister gripes. "Why, what are you gonna--"

"Come on," I mutter to her with a step back. "Let's go." And I can't even look at these people as we turn for the door. 

"I wouldn't shop here anyway," Bianca can't help but chirp over her shoulder as I lead her away. "Unless I was some--" Then she pauses to gesture a swirling hand at the salesman. "Washed up magician."

I push open the door and I hear the man bid us a fake good day before I look back and see Bianca present her middle finger and follow me outside.

"Jesus, what a dick," she complains. 

I'm already lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk when she makes her way over. "Yeah well--" I hold my inhale for a calming beat before I let out a steady stream of smoke and we start walking. "What do you expect?"

"Let's try Macy's or something," she suggests.

"No." I'm already over it and I set my gaze some place far away. "I'm probably just gonna bail."

"Fuck them, Noble. We'll go somewhere else. How hard is it to buy a damn suit?"

"I don't want to, Bianca." I cut her off and walk a little faster, making it hard for her to keep up as we weave through the people on Madison Avenue. 

"You gonna bail on three grand because a couple nobodies at a store were mean to us? Who cares about them?"

Apparently I do because it got to me. The way they looked at us got under my skin. I don't know how it's so thin all of a sudden; people judge me all the time and I'm pretty good at ignoring it. But I'm too aware of it now -- how less than I am. Why should I try to fake that I'm not?

"I'm gonna go back to the hotel," I tell her once she's at my side again. "I'll figure it out."

She knows me well enough not to press and just walks with me for a minute. “You sure you’re good?” She eventually asks.

After a long drag, I flick some ash away and lift my chin to slowly exhale. “I’m good.”

“You promise you’ll call me, okay? I worry about you.”

“Bianca,” I chuckle. “Do you realize what you’re walking me back to? This is easy. Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“I’m worried you’re going to get hurt.”

I look over at her. “Hurt drinking scotch in some rich guy’s penthouse? I don’t think you understand the kinds of shady places I’ve ended up in the middle of the night. This is like a vacation.”

“I don’t mean hurt like that. Like that guy who tried to stab you,” she says. 

I glance down, considering it over another drag. “I know what you mean,” I murmur. “It’s just a job.”

“Alright,” she agrees softly. “I’m gonna leave you here then, and head downtown.”

That’s probably a smart decision. The staff at the Waldorf-Astoria don’t need to leer at me walking in with this chick with fire red hair and an artfully torn up KISS t-shirt, leather mini skirt and fishnet tights. They already have their suspicions about me. Although a part of me does want her to walk through that lobby just to give someone a stroke. 

“I’ll call you,” I assure her. And with a hug at the corner, we part ways and I head on to Park Avenue.

Once I push through the revolving door, I keep my head down but I’m only a few steps in when a woman in a smart skirt suit follows in step beside me.

“Excuse me, sir, can I help you?” She wonders.

I keep walking. “I’m going to my room.”

“You’re a guest here?” 

And just then I remember I forgot to take the credit-card-looking key thing with me to let myself back in. “Yeah.” I scratch a hand through my hair and slow my pace to look at her. “I’m on the top floor. I’m… staying with someone.”

Her gaze falls briefly. “And who would that be?”

“Jamie,” I tell her, then press my lips together in this guilty way and sort of hope that my otherwise charming face convinces her to let me into the room.

“Jamie,” she repeats. 

“Mm-hm. Jamie…” Then I glance away for a moment. “The… lawyer.”

She nods once. “Right. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

“Ah, come on,” I complain, suddenly louder which I know isn’t helping my case. She places a hand on the middle of my back and guides me around the corner. “God, what? What is with everyone today?” I call out irritably as she steers us down a hallway door and I’m led into what I assume is her office.

“Now what is your name, young man?” She wonders after I’ve sunk down in one of her leather chairs opposite a heavy desk.

“What do you want it to be?” 

She blinks from her seat, but otherwise her face doesn’t move as she stares me down. 

I give in. “Noble.”

“Thank you. Noble. I’m Jacqueline Hart, I’m the manager of this hotel. Now--” She starts in, folding her hands on top of her desk. It makes me feel like I’m in the principal’s office. “Things that go on at other hotels don’t happen here at the Waldorf-Astoria. However, we take very good care of our guests. And Mister Reagan is a very special guest. We’d like to consider him a friend and for a friend, we’ll make certain exceptions.”

I cut my eyes to the side to keep from rolling them skyward. I could tell you stories of things that actually go on at these hotels, lady.

She goes on. “So I assume you’re a…” Then she pauses and looks at me, eyebrows raised. 

My forehead creases and I stall for an answer.

“Family member?” She finishes.

Bringing my hand to my mouth, I bite the edge of my finger and mutter, “Yeah. I’m his…” Then I clear my throat and shift. “--Cousin.”

“Of course.” She gives me a tight-lipped smile. “That’s fine. And I hope it’s your understanding that after your stay here, we won’t be seeing each other again--”

I blink in surprise, pulling my chin back.

“And while you’re here,” she continues. “I think it would benefit you to dress more appropriately for a hotel of this caliber. That’s all--”

“No--no-no.” I sit up. “That’s not all. See, that’s the problem. I tried to go out today to pick up some things to wear while I’m here, but it’s like I couldn’t get any help. Which is bullshit,” I rant, shifting to reach into the pocket of my jeans and I notice her visibly stiffen as she anticipates my next move. I dig out the cash and present the rumpled, folded bills. “Because I have all this money. Right? But the people at these stores are assholes--”

Furrowing her brow, Jacqueline turns toward her phone, and tries not to let the alarm surface on her face but I can see it in her eyes.

“What?” I wonder as she picks up the receiver and presses one of her speed dial buttons. “What, are you calling the cops? Great.” I shrug, slumping back in the chair. “That’s great. Tell them I said hi--”

She swallows hard. “Sam in menswear, please.”

I shut my mouth and watch her, one eyebrow gradually perking up.

“Sam, this is Jacqueline Hart from the Waldorf. How are you?” She pauses, glancing off to the side with a grin, then lets out this airy giggle as they exchange opening small talk. “I’m sending over a very special friend this afternoon. His name is Noble and I would be so appreciative if you could take good care of him for me.”

[gorogues]

Fictober ficlets

Day 6: “I heard enough, this ends now.”

 The heat and cold guns powered up simultaneously with an ominous whine, and Mick and Len stared each other down.

 “I’m sick of you treating me like some kind of secondary Rogue!” Mick bellowed, at which his partner in crime snorted derisively.

 “I give you more than you deserve, and we all know it.”

 “For cryin’ out loud…” James complained from across the table, though a glower from both men quickly silenced him.

 “So you recruited me, big deal!  I pull my own weight around here, and you take a cut of my share just because of that.  It’s not right,” Mick grumbled.  He lightly pulled at the trigger of his gun, causing a few flames to flicker out of the muzzle, and the other Rogues shuffled their chairs back a bit.

 “Then shoot me if you’ve got the balls,” Len challenged him.  “But you don’t.  You’re weak, and that’s why you’re in the lower tier of Rogues.  It’s pathetic.”

 “I’ll show you balls…” Mick growled, grip tightening on the gun and trigger, and that’s when Sam shoved the table against them and jumped to his feet.

 “I heard enough.  This ends now.”

 “Dammit, Sam!  If we don’t get this outta our system it’s just gonna keep happening,” Len protested, but Sam held a small mirror towards them with a stern glare, and the implication was clear.

 “Don’t care.  Have your dick-measuring contests outside Rogue territory,” Sam said forcefully, his gaze never wavering.  He was usually an easy-going leader and a good man to get along with, but could always be counted on to push back when necessary.

 “Fine.  This isn’t over, Snart,” Mick muttered in a low voice, though one sharp glance from Sam reminded him to keep it to himself until they’d left the hideout.  But Sam didn’t notice Len’s returned glare and nod, which told those who had seen it to maybe avoid bar-hopping with Len or Mick for a while.

  *************

 Day 7: “No worries, we still have time.”

 James liked to make an entrance and locks were basically optional for him, so he swung open the door to Hartley’s apartment with a theatrical flourish.

 “Piper?  There a reason you didn’t show up at the Bureau’s meeting today?” he called.

 “Leave me alone, James,” came a distinctly irritated reply.  The voice was emanating from the bedroom, so James walked in with a hand covering his eyes in comedic exaggeration.  This would normally get a few exasperated chuckles from Hartley, but today he was silent. So James dropped the hand and the humour, and now looked sincerely concerned.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing.  Don’t concern yourself with it, and I’ll be back at the office tomorrow.”

 “Hart, it doesn’t take a conman to see that something’s truly bothering you.  Try me, I’m a really good listener.”

 Hartley let out a pained grunt and fixed James with a frustrated stare.  “If I tell you, will you leave me alone?”

 “Of course,” James assured him, fingers obviously crossed behind his back.  Hartley knew it, but decided to unburden himself anyway; it wasn’t like he had many people to talk to at this point in his life.

“So today’s the anniversary of my parents’ murder,” he began, and James’ eyes widened.  He couldn’t believe he’d missed such an important event, as it was the kind of thing he took pride in remembering and was even a professional requirement for a confidence man who liked to know everything about everyone.

 “We often didn’t see eye-to-eye,” Hartley continued, “but they were the only parents I had, and I know they loved me.  I loved them.  And I can’t help but feel partly responsible because Mirror Master murdered them just to get at me…it makes for weird feelings of grief, guilt, and confusion. I’m not in a good headspace right now.”

 “That’s completely understandable and you can take all the time you need,” James said with concern, his face a bit pale.  He spent some time in thought, and then brightened.  “Do you think it’d help to visit their memorials, to maybe pay your respects and think about what’s going on in your head?”

 “It might,” Hartley conceded, “but their graves are in Central City and it’s getting rather late.  Maybe it’s not worth it, and maybe they already think I’m a bad son for not showing up.”  

 James cast him a sympathetic look, feeling almost heartbroken by the downcast look on his friend’s face. “Don’t worry, we still have time and we’ll get there.  And Hart, not only are you a great son, but I know your parents are so proud of you.”

 ************

Day 9: “You shouldn’t have come here.”

 Lisa had been paralyzingly lethargic for the last day or so, showing little interest in meals and even less in exercise or recreation. She hated prison, and her brother seemed content to let her stay there for a while; he might have been too busy to spring her, but she assumed he was angry at her for disobeying his counsel not to harass the Flash.  How could he understand her feelings, anyway?

 “Dinnertime, Snart,” one of the guards called as she slipped a meal into the cell, though Lisa completely ignored the woman and the food. Roscoe was dead, she’d failed to hurt the Flash as he’d done to her, and the world was passing her by as she languished in that cell.  Rage could only drive her so far when she was completely powerless to do anything, and the melancholy of grief had set in.

 “Where did it all go wrong?” she asked softly under her breath, and there was a familiar chuckle beside her.

 “I’d think it was when my brain overheated.”

 She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.  “Roscoe, you’re not real.  I’m imagining things like the last time.”

 “Well, not in the flesh, as it were.  But I’m here to keep you company in your hour of need…I wish I could do more to help, but I’ll need a body first.”

 “If you’re real --- and I’m not saying you are --- tell me something I couldn’t possibly know to prove it’s you.”

 The voice paused for a few moments before speaking. “I left a diamond bracelet for you under your bed before I died, and you haven’t found it yet.”

 She flushed.  It suddenly occurred to her that she couldn’t know if it was true until she was out of prison, but seemed like the kind of thing he would do and so he had to be real….or maybe she might be hallucinating him saying it because she expected that of him.  Her head was so muddled, and she was having such difficulty thinking straight.

 “You shouldn’t have come here.  I’m not at my best right now,” she admitted quietly, still not lifting her forehead from her slump on the table.

  “There’s no place I’d rather be,” he replied, and she could hear the tender smile in his voice.

 ***************

 Day 10: “You think this troubles me?”

 “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re completely out of burgers,” the employee said politely, a concerned look on her face.  The customer in front of her seemed like the type to be difficult.

 “You think this troubles me?” Dr Alchemy announced with an imperious smile.  “Let my Philosopher’s Stone transform those soggy French fries,” --- he gestured towards another customer’s order --- “into glorious beef patties so there will be burgers for all!”

 “Sir, that’s really against Health and Safety regulations…” the employee began, but there was a bright flash of light from the weird rock he held.

 And a puddle of goo where the fries had been.

 “Um,” Al said nervously, all gravitas lost.  “Just a second.”

 Another flash of light, and now the goo was a different colour.  But with chunks.

 “What the hell happened to my fries?!” the other customer demanded, staring in disbelief at the horrible remains of his order.

 “That should have worked!” Al exclaimed in frustration.  “It always works!  One moment, please!”

 Now the chunky goo looked vaguely like cottage cheese.

 “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” the employee said firmly, and Al scowled.

 “You can’t throw me out!  Dr Alchemy takes his leave,” he sniffed with all the renewed dignity he could muster.  He flipped his cape over his shoulder, and began stalking away in a manner befitting a supervillain.

 And then slipped on the puddle of soda another employee was diligently mopping up.

 ***************

 Day 11: “But I will never forget!”

 Axel and Evan cackled together.  They didn’t typically spend much time with each other and very little of that involved socializing, but there was one life-threatening activity which united them as a duo.

“Okay, so you have to make sure to angle the portal just like this,” Axel instructed as he sketched a rough outline on a piece of paper, and his colleague nodded.

 “Aye.  It’s nae tricky,” Evan said confidently, possibly unaware that he’d just suitably punned.  Axel himself nodded approvingly at such a quality reference.  Sometimes Scotty’s an okay guy, he mused silently.

 “Just make sure ya do it right in the heat of the moment, bro!  You only get one chance.  And I’ll have the ammo ready.”

 They exchanged another good laugh and a high five before splitting up to take their positions and to wait for their prey….

 ….who soon walked in whistling a (classical, pretentious) tune.

 Evan opened the mirror portal in just the right place and aimed it precisely as he’d been told, while Axel let loose the weapon.

 “What the flying fuck?!” Mark shrieked furiously as a Boston cream pie came out of nowhere to splatter all over his face, and the conspirators laughed hysterically.  The two of them had to hold each other up because they were laughing so hard.

 “You…you…” Mark sputtered as he wiped cream filling out of his eyes.  His perfectly-coiffed hair was ruined, and he’d be damned if the others found out about his extensive moisturizing regime because of what they’d done.  Lightning began to crackle ominously around his eyes, and Axel realized it was time to go.

 “Let’s jet, yo!” he called, and the duo disappeared instantly via another mirror portal.  Mark, however, was now literally steaming, as it turns out that pie cream begins to cook when exposed to large quantities of electricity.  Len was confronted with a puzzling sight when he came running in to find out what had happened.

 “You jerks think you’ve gotten away with this.  But I’ll never forget!” Mark vowed angrily.  He promised to be ever-vigilant and to never let them prank him again.

 Which didn’t help the next time.

[placetobenation]

Today’s subject is someone who was once described by no less than Bret Hart as the best wrestler in the world. Of course I mean Melina. Bret naturally copped quite a bit of stick when he said that, but honestly, at this point… I think he might have been right. Just for a different reason than he gave.

Bret liked Melina because she had cool movez and he’s a dork for cool movez. Which is fine, by the way, I’m certainly not in a position to judge anyone else’s taste in wrestling. You do you, Bret. Melina did have some innovative offense, and did use her incredible flexibility to create some awesome visuals – we all remember when Beth Phoenix made her kick the back of her own head right? Melina did a lot of cool stuff in the ring, and I like that about her, but that’s not what I love about her.

I fell in love with Melina when I went through 2007 and realised she was the baddest motherfucker on the planet.

No kidding. It’s nuts. SHE is nuts. Melina was never one of my favourites before this, but now I am like, all in. Bruiser Brody in his wildest dreams wasn’t half the crazy brawler that this woman was.

When she starts wrestling full time and gets the title push in early 2007, the entire women’s division lifts and becomes surprisingly violent when Melina starts beating the BEJESUS out of everyone in sight. Brawling and punching and kicking and scratching and clawing and screaming and hair pulling, my GOD the hair pulling! I ain’t talkin’ some Fabulous Moolah hair mares here, this was brutal, violent, rip all the hair out of your head and slam you on your face stuff. This ain’t yo grandma’s hair pulling, is all I’m saying.

Melina would go on these rampages, and so whoever she was wrestling had to fight back, lest they be killed, and suddenly every other Divas match on Raw was a three minute fight to the death. Suddenly poor, sweet girls like Maria or Candice Michelle are in there with Melina scrapping and throwing down – because they had to! She did such a great job bringing that kind of intensity out of a lot of the girls. And then when she was in there with someone like Beth Phoenix or Mickie James… it was ON.

Mickie and Melina allegedly had quite a bit of heat with each other at the time, going back to OVW days I think. (I vaguely remember blog posts and stuff like that, but I mean it was 2005, we all had livejournals, no judgment.) Anyway, I only mention this to say that I have absolutely no problem believing that they had beef, because when they wrestled it looked like they legitimately wanted to kill each other. They would have a staredown and like… sparks would fly. Lasers would shoot out. Small fires would break out nearby. And then they’d get in and try to murder each other in three minute Divas matches.

It was such a great feud, filled with some nasty wrestling matches. I recommend the main ones they had fighting over the title in early 2007, which will be listed below. The first two are straight matches that blew my tiny, little mind with their intensity. Then they had the first ever women’s Falls Count Anywhere match on Raw – WWE may claim it was Sasha Banks and Charlotte, but it was in fact Mickie James and Melina going nuts here, and it ruled. Then they had a PPV title match at Backlash which is still one of the best women’s matches in company history. Watch it. Watch it all.

Even beyond that, again, you can just feel the hatred radiating off them whenever they wrestle. Long after their title feud is over, when Mickie and Melina are ever in a tag team match, or a battle royal, or doing anything in the same ring they snap together like magnets and continue to pummel each other like the feud had never stopped.

There was a battle royal about six months after their feud ended where Melina sacrificed herself just to eliminate Mickie. THAT is how strong the hate was. Even after Melina eventually turns babyface in 2008, the first time her and Mickie are put in a tag team match together they clearly hate it and don’t trust a bar of each other. A whole year later! The storyline was over but these girls were working their own damn angle. It wasn’t until December 2008, a full 18 months after their feud ostensibly ended that they were able to team up and be friendly. Talk about selling it, in a world where hardly anything matters a week after it happens.

Another aspect of Melina’s run in 2007 that I want to talk about is a cool little thread of detail I happened to find running through the length of it. Make sure your oxygen tank is full and your goggles are on properly, this is going to be quite a deep dive into some wrestling minutiae.

They key thing to know is this: Melina held the Women’s Title for about six months in 2007 and in that whole time she didn’t actually have a finisher.

I mean, she may have technically had a finisher on paper for all I know, but she certainly didn’t use one to win all her matches. All of her matches did end the same way, but they also all ended differently – bear with me while I explain.

In every match of hers, there was always a pivotal moment late in the game that created an opening for Melina to win, and she would always capitalise on that moment. Something would happen – she’d knock her opponent off the top and they’d crash and burn, or they’d take a bad bump or a head knock from something, or she’d nail one of her moves in a big way, or she’d have a chance to cheat behind the back of the referee. Whatever it was, something like that would happen and Melina would pounce. Not literally hit The Pounce~! (that would be cool though) but she would roll them up straight away, or hit a big move and finish them off. It was a different finish every time, but she would ALWAYS capitalise.

At the time Edge had the ‘Ultimate Opportunist’ gimmick in terms of booking, but Melina was actually working that idea in terms of wrestling every week in the ring. It was fascinating to watch it unfold.

And the great thing is that it even got paid off!

The summer of 2007 is when Candice Michelle got her big push, and the story of her title chase was that she had Melina’s number. She pinned her on Raw a couple times, and Candice even won the non-title Pudding Match at the One Night Stand PPV (I know, I know). So Candice is on a roll, and gets her title shot at Vengeance. Naturally there is a point late in the match where something happens and that window opens up for Melina: after Candice makes a comeback Melina manages to poke the eyes and hit a wacky Rude Awakening-type move and Candice is down and out. But Melina can’t capitalise! She tries to pin her but they’re too close to the ropes and she has to waste time dragging her out and Candice kicks out and the whole moment has come and gone.

I’m sure it just looked like a random messed up two-count to everyone else, but when I saw this happen I LOST MY MIND.

Because I knew that THAT was the moment Melina was looking for, and for the first time she couldn’t convert it into a victory. Candice wasn’t going down in the same way that everyone else did – Candice had her number. And sure enough, Candice recovered and won the match. And that’s how Melina lost the title.

I never knew it was actually possible to fall in love with an awkward looking pin cover off of a neckbreaker, but I am so madly in love with this moment it hurts. It’s so nice when you find a beautiful little detail and you feel like you’re the only one who can see it. It’s the kind of detail that you can only appreciate if you watch wrestling with as much… fervour as we do. I am on some Pro Wrestling Only type ish right now. (Cheap plug for the new PWO site! Yeah!)

I may need to revisit Melina again in the future since so many of her best matches came after 2007. But I really wanted to explore this run of hers in some depth because it completely blew me away and made me a super dooper Melina fan.

Next week I will tell the tale of how I became a super dooper fan of someone else, someone who is about to make a surprise leap back into the wrestling spotlight. Stay tuned.

Check it out: Melina vs. Maria (Raw, January 1st 2007) Mickie James vs. Melina – Women’s Title (Raw, February 5th 2007) Mickie James vs. Melina – Women’s Title (Raw, February 19th 2007) Melina vs. Maria (Raw, February 26th 2007) Melina vs. Mickie James – Women’s Title Falls Count Anywhere (Raw, March 5th 2007) Melina & Victoria vs. Mickie & Candice (Raw, April 9th 2007) Melina vs. Mickie James – Women’s Title (Backlash 2007) Melina vs. Candice Michelle – Women’s Title (Vengeance: Night of Champions 2007)