#1940s girl gang

[mercurygray]

Blind Dates Fest 2024 - Freda Torvaldsen, ARCS

A few days ago I asked for MOTA prompts, and @junojelli delivered:

A MOTA scene prompt for you: a new arrival is amongst the clubmobile ladies at the local pub one evening. Of course, it would only be right that they give her the lowdown on the men they can see in the bar, and the recent gossip on possible nocturnal escapades of course 😏

So! An extra Blind Date! You can learn more about @blind-dates-fest at their blog.

Fandom: Masters of the Air

It was only a matter of time before the subject came up.

“Can’t say I’ve ever met a Freda before.”

It was always like this, her first day in a new assignment, where you been, where you from, what do you do. And then inevitably someone would work around to the obvious. So... what’s a name like Torvaldsen doing with a name like Freda?

“And neither had my mother,” Freda said with a resigned smile, sitting down heavily and nodding thankfully to one of the other girls for the beer. “After my father and brother were both Peters I think she just wanted something interesting.” She shrugged. “She told me once she found the name in a short story in a woman’s magazine. Never got confused with another girl in class, though! Fred’s just fine, for every day use. It’ll get tossed in eventually, so we may as well start there.”

Fred was easy - approachable, even. A good way to start a conversation, a quick, easy joke to set everyone on the same level. Who’s on shift today, girls? Rose, Laura, and Fred. Wait, Fred? And she’d stick her head out from wherever she was hiding, and the boys would all have a laugh that Fred was really a twenty-six year old blonde from Madison, Wisconsin with a big smile, and not the paunchy driver from Brooklyn they all pictured when they heard the name. She didn’t mind the jokes, really - it made the whole job easier. So what’s your name, solider? You have a nickname, too? Where you from? The whole reason she was there, in three questions or less - to make the average G.I. feel at home, seen, valued and wanted.

“Where’d you say you were, before this?” Helen asked. At least, she thought it was Helen - or was it Ellen? Honestly, Tatty had run through the team of three pretty quickly this morning and she might have misheard. Tatty, of course, was easy to remember - Katherine Spaatz, with a last name the papers wouldn’t soon forget and a face that liked being photographed. Mary Boyle was the other, a sparkling-eyed Irish girl from Des Moines who looked like just the kind the fellows all liked to spin around a dance more than once. She couldn’t remember the name of the girl she was replacing, either - not that that mattered much. She was going home with the one non-communicable disease the Red Cross didn’t want to deal with - pregnant, Mary had mouthed across the table when they’d first met this morning, her fresh off the bus from London and Tatty skating artfully around the subject.

“Did a spell at the canteen in Washington, another couple months in London in a few different spots,” Freda offered. “I guess I’m a professional replacement at this point - which is either a compliment or a curse. You’ll have to tell me which.”

“Well, we’re happy to have you, for as long as we’ve got,” Tatty said with a nod. “Did they tell you what the work would be like? Working a base is different than canteen service.”

“The hours, for a start,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.

“If they’re running a mission, they’re up and at ‘em at 4:30 for a 5 am briefing, which means -”

“Service ready for 4:45,” Freda filled in, nodding along. “Means we’ll be starting about...three thirty, maybe, to have everything hot and ready?”

“Will that be a problem?” Tatty asked, her eyes dark and decisive across the table.

Freda shook her head. “Always was more of a morning person. How long are they usually out for?”

“Longer runs...six, seven, eight hours at a time? Tower will give us a ring when they’re expected back in, and then we rack up donuts and coffee in the interrogation hut. You’ll need to be sharp on that shift,” Tatty warned. “They don’t always come back looking pretty.”

“Doctor’s usually on hand to evaluate anyone who can walk. If they’re still standing he’ll turn ‘em loose on the interrogation team,” Mary explained. “Captain Brennan and her girls run that room - she’s nice, you’ll like her.”

“You’re not there to make small talk for that one - pass out coffee and get ‘em to their table as quick as you can. Each crew runs through the whole mission - what they saw, who they shot at, bombs dropped. The after-action report. Once they’re done, they’re free to leave, and so are we. We’ll do dishes and clean-up, and then get the coffee urns ready to drive ‘round to the crews. Can you drive?”

“Well enough for Wisconsin,” Freda offered with a shrug. “We had a Ford I could grind through.” She didn’t say anything about the last time someone had asked her if she knew how to drive, and how she’d nearly run over the campus mascot trying to muscle a Clubmobile into a turn.

“Sounds like you’ll be driving our Jeep, then. We’ve got one assigned to us.”

Freda nodded, trying to maintain serenity. Well, that’s all right. A Jeep’s not a remodeled London bus, and it sure as hell doesn’t drive like one.

“The planes are parked out on hardstands and the crew basically live out there while they’re working,” Tatty went on, “So we take coffee and sandwiches around once the planes come back in. They’re good guys out there - better than the flyboys, sometimes.”

“Now, Tatty, don’t go turning her head the wrong way,” Mary interjected, before Freda could ask what a hardstand was. “They’re all nice. Just take some getting used to.”

“Anyone I’ll need to watch out for?” Freda asked, glancing around the club, which was gradually beginning to fill for the evening - officers in their Class As, the gilt on their wings like sunshine, laughter like a river. The knucklehead who knocked up your friend, for instance?

Tatty made a gesture across the room towards the biggest group. “The tall one horsing around with the dartboard is John Egan - Major Egan, rather. Or Bucky, if you want nicknames. He’s mostly harmless, but he’ll flirt with anything. Just give as good as you get and you’ll be fine. Man next to him is Major Gale Cleven - also Buck - who you’ll wish was single and isn’t.”

“He’s got a girl back home in Wyoming,” Helen (Ellen?) put in, her smile a little wistful. “Ask him about her sometime.”

“Man with the permanent frown is Major William Veal - Bill, sometimes. He’s all business, you’ll never see him dance, so don’t ask. Tall fellow next to him with the lighter curly hair is Major Jack Kidd, also mostly business.”

Freda’s eyebrows went up. “Mostly?” Now there’s a word with a story.

It was Tatty’s turn to smile. “We think he might be sweet on Mary, when he lets himself.”

Mary rolled her eyes. “Only because the rest of you gang up on him!”

“Those are the squadron commanders, anyway - the other pilots and navigators and crews report to them. It’s a lot of names,” Tatty said, almost dismissive.

Notice how she didn’t say I’d learn them, Freda thought to herself. They’d told her that much in London, when she’d gotten her assignment. Don’t get too attached to your post, or the soldiers there. They can change or leave at any time. It’s a war, not a weekend.

“Ladies! And how are we all on this fine evening, eh?” Here it was - faces up. Freda found her smile and turned to see who it was - a young man with black hair and blue eyes and a smile just this side of mischievous. And this one is named Trouble, I’ll bet. First lieutenant with flying wings - a pilot. “You all over here plottin’ somethin’ we fellas need to be made aware of?”

“Just introducing the new girl around, Curt.” Tatty gestured to Freda, on the other side of the table, who raised a hand and nodded hello.

Trouble (Curt?) smiled a little wider, his hand on Tatty’s shoulder, leaning closer over the table. “Oh, the new girl, eh? And does the new girl have a name?

“New girl answers to Fred,” Freda said with a patient smile, trying not to smile too hard at the patently obvious big-city, big-spender feeling rolling off of the lieutenant in waves. New Yorkers. You could run them off a press like that. It was funny, sometimes, how much they tried not to be types - but she’d known far too many men like him. That was the trouble with canteen service - you saw so many they all started to look the same. “And she’s not looking for another drink, before the lieutenant starts asking.”

“Tough customer!” He laughed at that. “Curtis Biddick, at your service, Fred. Now, if any one of these jokers starts anything or gets fresh, you come find me, alright?” He pointed, for emphasis, and she took note of the knuckles of his hand, the shortness of his nails. “Gotta take care of our girls, you know, since you’re always taking care of us.”

“I’ll certainly keep it in mind, Lieutenant.”

Biddick waved the rank away like it was a fly he were swatting. “Now, none of this lieutenant crap, Fred. My friends call me Curt.” He fixed his eye on her and she smiled, and nodded - heard and acknowledged. Confident they had an understanding, he clapped Tatty’s shoulder again and stood up. “Tatty. Mary. Helen. Fred. Yous all have a good night, now.”

“Well, there you are, Fred. If Biddick likes you you’re set. He was serious about finding him, too - he’s the company boxing champion.”

“Of course he is,” Freda said with a smile, finally able to place where she’d seen hands like that before. And a total sweetheart underneath all of it, if I read him right.

And a soldier, something in her head reminded her. That’s the trouble with working a base - they won’t just be here for a night. You’ll have learn their names, and their girlfriends, see them day in and day out - until one day you don’t.

She took a deep breath and a sip of her beer, still glancing around the room, at the laughing men at the dartboard, the craps game, the piano, everyone alive and free and full of life. Maybe it had been a bad idea to start with names.

---

Eagle-eyed readers will notice that I have name-dropped several new characters in here; one of them, Marion, is my other Blind Date this year. You'll meet her on Saturday!

[ktredshoes]

Gillian Jacobs as Mary Jayne Gold in Transatlantic. Tell me she doesn't look like Eileen Hammond, @mercurygray !

[ktredshoes]

Thinking about what @mercurygray said about Ava Gardner: here's another direction for Eileen Hammond. All she needs is a killer hat.

The Hustle (2019) dir. Chris Addison

[giiiinabaker]

https://www.instagram.com/p/C__SGEAAJaW/?igsh=Y3FlOWxqODJ2eG05

[agirlnamedbone]

“Girl gang.” // Morris Huberland // date unknown, between 1949-1970 [x]

[mercurygray]

Someone just found this old chestnut on @basilone's blog and I'm so glad they did, because I'd plum forgotten it existed. This was first published in 2021, and obviously we hadn't gotten this far into TDS, but I still think it works as far as canon is concerned.

May 2023 bring you all forgotten treasures and profound appreciation for them.

New year, new writing..?! YES. (It’s around 3am and I’m living my best life, obviously.) What better thing to start 2021 off with than with a little bit of Ron & Billie, and a New Year’s song shared between ’em.. just for kicks? (And, yeah, this one specifically goes out as a little treat to @mercurygray and @junojelli for being the best people I could ever hope to jive with. It’s an honor to have you in my life!)

give me a hand o’thine

“S-sir.”

He squints at the blanket-wrapped figure that’s come to a standstill just behind his foxhole. Raises an eyebrow at the quick flash of a smile that flickers in the moonlight before a cloud of breath replaces it. He thinks he knows who it is when she makes an impatient noise at the back of her throat. Can’t fathom why she’d be out here on the line with him instead of with the rest of her company.

“Mitchell?” he asks, regardless, because none of this makes sense. “What’re you doing?”

“Well, sir,” she says, sounding annoyed and resigned all at once, “I was looking for Dike. Found myself here. You didn’t see him, did ya?”

Keep reading

[longwuzhere]

My Adventures with Superman Season 2 Easter Eggs

Welcome to another week of My Adventures with Superman! My hunch about the what happened last week was true and things are not going too well for the gang...

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

Spoilers if you haven't seen the episode

To start things off we meet Kara on Earth! I talked more about her here. Shes's dressed similarly to Android 18 when she, 17, and 16 drive to Goku's house in episode 147 of Dragon Ball Z. While watching the episode I was wondering why does Kara's hair look so familiar? Then it hit me. Kara's got Sakuya Kumashiro's hair from Tenchi in Tokyo!

Shout out to recent DC characters enjoy ice cream for the first time like Wonder Woman in the live action movie and Justice League animated movie, and the new DC Super Hero Girls cartoon. As a mint chocolate chip ice cream fan, good first choice of ice cream to enjoy!

Perry puts Clark and Lois on a new beat for the Metropolis "Most Eligible Single" contest because Superman was chosen to be one of the five up for that title. Cat Grant self-invites herself to join the duo to figure out who Superman is through his love life. Lois is sweating bullets at this point. At the contest we meet the potential people for winning the title, Hank Henshaw, Chandi Gupta, Byrna Brilyant, and Silver St. Cloud. I talked more about Hank Henshaw here. We see a darker more bigoted side to him this time around. Will we see him get his cyborg body and become Cyborg Superman in this season or season 3? Who knows. Season 3 is confirmed though.

Dr. Byrna Brilyant is a very deep DC universe cut dating back to 1946, the golden age of comics. Back then Byrna Brilyant was an enemy to Wonder Woman going by the moniker, Blue Snowman.

Byrna in the 1940s makes her first appearance in Sensation Comics #59 (1946) [W: Joye Hummel, P&I: H.G. Peter], where she was a teacher who's father created this compound called blue ice, after his death, she uses it as a way to extort this town after freezing it over for monetary gain.

Byrna makes another appearance in 2010 in Power Girl #7 (2010) [W Justin Gray & Jimmy Palmiotti, P&I: Amanda Conner, C: Paul Mounts, L: John J. Hill] where Dr. Mid-Nite and Power Girl are trying to stop Byrna from committing a robbery but the main bad guy, Vartox shoots a seduction musk rifle at Power Girl but the smell knocks out Dr. Mid-Nite and it works on Byrna, but not Power Girl. This all makes more sense if you read the comic.

Byrna's next appearance post-New 52 was in Superman/Wonder Woman #4 (2014) [W: Charles Soule, P: Paulo Siqueira, I&C: Hi-Fi, L: Carlos M. Mangual] where we see Wonder Woman and Hessia battling the Blue Snowman robots.

Byrna's latest appearance post-DC Rebirth is in DC: Love is a Battlefield #1 (2021) [W: Crystal Fraiser, P&I: Juan Gedeon, C:Ulises Arreola, L: Marshal Dillion, where Byrna is now gender fluid after interrupting a date between Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor. Good on Wonder Woman for letting them go and hoping the realization there is a word for what Byrna was feeling would make them feel much better. So going forward if we meet Byrna again, I'll be referring to them with they/them pronouns, but if its New 52 continuity and before, Byrna will be referred to with she/her pronouns with the continuities to help clarify the pronoun usages.

Chadi Gupta is also another deep cut from the DC universe because she's reference to her comic counterpart from Justice League Europe.

Chandi makes her first appearance in Justice League Europe #47 (1993) [W: Gerard Joes, P: Ron Randall, I: Randy Elliot, C: Gene D'Angelo, L: Willie Schubert] where she's escaping her family and comes across the the JLE and wants to join them. Her energy projection and construct creation powers came in handy for the JLE in issue 50 where she and the rest of the JLE were able to fend off Sonar's attack and that earned her a spot on Justice League Europe as the superhero Maya.

Silver St. Cloud is probably one of the more prominent characters from the DC universe who showed up in MAwS. She got into the pop culture zeitgeist through the Gotham tv show when it aired.

Silver St. Cloud makes her first appearance in Detective Comics #470 (1977) [W: Steven Engleheart, P: Walter Simonson, I: Al Milgrom, C: Jerry Serpe, L: Ben Oda] where she meets Bruce Wayne at a party on his yacht. She eventually becomes one of Bruce Wayne's more prominent love interests and one of the few who were suspecting Bruce to be Batman thanks to his constant disappearing.

She shows up in post-new 52 in the maybe possibly out of cotinuity anthology, Legends of the Dark Knight (2014) digital comics, specifically as a cameo in issue #50, Dr. Quinn's Diagnosis [W: Jim Zub, P&I: Niel Googe, C: Kathryn Layno, L: Saida Temofonte], where Batman is getting psychoanalyzed by Harley Quinn.

If you want to read a comic with a fun appearance of Silver St. Cloud give Batman/Elmer Fudd Special #1 (2017) [W: Tom King, P&I: Lee Weeks, C: Lovern Kindzierski, L: Deron Bennet] a read cuz goddamn is it noir AF and beautifully drawn (a while back DC superheroes crossed over with Looney Tunes characters and its very good. They have also done it with Hanna Barbera characters as well. Give those a read too! They're all fun!)!

The charity that MAwS Silver mentions was first mentioned in Superman #152 (1967) [W: Bill Finger, P&I: Al Plastino] where Superman is accepting a clock medallion for a charity event. In the comics Silver St. Cloud isn't usually working for charities, shes mostly a Gotham socialite.

At the event, the MC (who gives off Funky Flashman vibes imo), asked if anyone has questions and the first to jump on that was George Taylor of the Metropolis Star. I talked about the Metropolis Star here, but for George Taylor...

he actually makes his first appearance here in Action Comics #1 (1938) [W: Jerry Seigel, P&I: Joe Shuster, C: Strauss Engraving Company] where he is the editor-in-chief of the Daily Star.

In the silver age, George Taylor makes his first appearance in Superman #366 (1981) [W: Bob Eozakis, P: Kurt Schaffenberger, I: Frank Chiaramonte, C: Adrienne Roy, L: John Costanza] where he assigns Perry White on the Superboy scoop to see if he's active in Metropolis. In post-Crisis on Infinite continuity, George makes a cameo appearance in Adventures of Superman #451 (1989) [W,P,&I: Jerry Ordway, C: Glenn Whitmoore, L: Albert DeGuzman] where we see George's office door.

In the New 52 continuity, George Taylor makes his first appearance in Action Comics #8 (2012) [W: Grant Morrison, P: Rags Morales, I: Rick Bryant, C: Brad Anderson, L: Pat Brosseau] as editor-in-chief for the Daily Star where in the comic he's proud of Clark and encourages him to take the job at the Daily Planet.

Kara and Jimmy make it into the studio where Lois, Superman, and Cat Grant are and Kara confronts Superman showing off that she's the one in the armor. She is on a two-way radio communications with someone named Primus. Whether that is Brainiac's designation when Kara is on the field or its a different character all together, there is a Primus in the DC universe, not just in the Transformers universe. Btw this isn't Kara's first time siding with an evil faction, she was part of Darkseid's Female Furies in the 2004 Superman/Batman series, specifically in issue #11. You might have also seen it happen in the Superman/Batman: Apocalypse animated movie too.

Primus aka Pren makes his first appearance in Green Lantern #141 (1981) [W: Marv Wolfman, P&I: Joe Stanton, C: Carl Gafford, L: John Costanza] where he is the leader of the alien group, the Omega Men from the Vega star system. They jump Hal when he and Carol Ferris were on vacation thinking Hal is part of the Citadel, an extraterrestrial empire that is conquering the star system the Omega Men are in.

Primus/Pren NuParr makes his New 52 first appearance in Deathstroke #9 (2012), but gets a more prominent role in the Omega Man limited series from 2015 [panel from The Omega Men #1 (2015) W: Tom King, P&I: Barnaby Bagenda, C: Romulo Farjardo Jr., L: Pat Brosseau]. In this continuity, the Citadel is now a corporation that was exploiting Krypton's destruction by by selling stabilized planet cores to other worlds. This comes at a cost where the Vega star system is enslaved by them and those who resisted we killed and the survivors formed the Omega Men.

And with that another episodes Easter eggs and references are done! Come back next week to see what episode 6's Easter eggs and references are! In case you missed it:

My Easter eggs lists for season 1 is here if you haven't seen it!

My season 2 episode 1 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 2 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 3 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman comic issue 1 post is here

My season 2 episode 4 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 6 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 7 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 2 post is here

My season 2 episode 8 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 9 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My season 2 episode 10 Easter eggs and references in My Adventures with Superman post is here

My Easter eggs and references for My Adventures with Superman comic issue 3 post is here

[gatabella]

Lana Turner, early 1940s

"That 'glamour' is something created strictly by the camera. I don't have it and when I meet men who have seen me only on the screen, they're obviously let down. I'm not the sort of girl who likes to go to night spots all done up to my teeth. I'm not the sort photographers gang around. It just doesn't happen. By glamour, I mean Lana Turner. She is glamorous."

-Ava Gardner, Silver Screen magazine, April 1951

[mercurygray]

I'm re-reading TDS (yet again) and I'm wondering if you have any modern headcanons for the girl gang?

Kind Anonymous Friend, your 'yet again' watered my crops, folded my laundry and did my dishes. Thank you.

For modern headcanons, are you thinking 'the girl gang but it's 2024' or 'the girl gang IN 2024 as 100 year old sassy great grandmas'.

I'm kind of assuming it's the first one, although sassy great grandmas are indeed an excellent idea.

I think we'll assume that the girl gang all went to college together or something and that's how they know each other.

Joan does some kind of political work - maybe as a congressional staffer or lobbyist, not as an elected official herself. She's totally a legacy hire, but she works hard and people who know her know that. I don't know how she meets Dick, but I think it wouldn't be a stretch for a lawyer working for a well-known large agricultural products company to be in town to talk to congress ooorrr a general's aide having to make some plans to speak with someone about...something. Marj is teaching high school and calling Joan on Thursday nights asking when Joan's going to get a damn date.

Eileen is an actress and is launching her own line of vintage inspired clothes. She also probably has a golden age of Hollywood podcast that is surprisingly academic and nerdy.

Ruth and Doris are roommates in New York (and I'm having a vision of Doris working in a restaurant as a chef? I have no idea why. She also has like seven tattoos and looks like she could beat a guy up because she could who are we kidding. Doris + Joe Toye kitchen dream team? y/y? that is its own au, probably.)

Molly is a history adjunct, working on getting tenure. I'm not sure what sort of history she specializes in. Maybe labor? Maybe 18th century women?

Hannah is also working in the same office Joan is in a similar role. She really looks up to Joan.

or we could lean real hard into this Olympics AU @noneedtoamputate has me thinking about. More details on that soon.

[ktredshoes]

@precious-little-scoundrel Julie Jean Turner vibes!

February 18, 1942: "Lana Turner Spurs Bond Sales! The lovely film star does a land office business for Defense, autographing every purchase . . . and for service men, a special dividend, a real Hollywood clinch!"

[pumpkinsy0]

Steve hcs if u pls😘🙏🏽

steve randle,,,,my guy,,,

•ok look, i dont think many ppl know but i just hc’d my steve to b nigerian!!!he was still born in the us and the reason why his family moved to the us is bc nigeria gained independence in 1960, but before that, especially in the 1940s-1950s, there was a spike in political unrest, so before steve was born, they moved to the us!!! bc of different factors hes not THAG connected to his culture

•steve didnt try to convince soda to stay in school, he just wanted to support soda in anyway he could and if soda thought that was the better option, he’ll just rude along w him, the first few months was kinda hard tho

•he was that kid who would actively try to freak out the girls, #1 cooties believer, u couldnt get him CLOSSEEEE to a girl when he was like 7-10

•steves chipped his teeth MULTIPLE times bc of different guys from the gang, he can also use the gap in his teeth and whistle w it, nobody but soda and evie know that tho

•nigerians r funny as hell w their insults, ik ponys felt embarrassed bc steves insult and the gang all laughed😭

•johnnys denim jacket is steves, he just gave it to him bc he knew johnny gets way colder than him faster and wanted johnny to have SOMETHING, but he also feels this sort of guilt bc part of y johnnys injuries were so bad was bc the jacket caught fire, it was pretty flammable

•this guy can crack damn near every point in his body, including his nose, and it freaks everyone out, at some point, u need to not b able to do that

•steve canonically only works as a PART TIME employee, bc hes still going to school, sodas a full time, so sometimes, steve has to leave work early and sodas just,,,left on his own and its so BORING, but then steve comes back when he can

•as he grows up, steves shitty stick and poke tattoo just looks worse and yknow what??? hes glad his dark skin can cover that up a bit, cause WOW if he was pale hes just done for

•right after darry, its steve who can hit hard as hell, like HARD, like my christ man they need u to be a boxer😭

[justforbooks]

Stieg Larsson

His Millennium trilogy was a worldwide hit. But to the Swedish author, it was only ever a sideshow to his true life’s work: fighting fascism, racism and rightwing extremism

It is a relatively well-known fact that the author of the bestselling and most widely known Nordic noir crime series of all time never got to witness his own success. Swedish novelist Stieg Larsson died of a sudden heart attack 20 years ago this week, aged only 50, before the publication of The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and the Millennium trilogy that followed.

What is less well known is that on the day of his death (9 November 2004), Larsson was due to give a lecture on the Nazis’ November pogrom at the headquarters of the Workers’ Educational Association in Stockholm. Kristallnacht, “the night of broken glass”, was an important date in Larsson’s calendar, which he commemorated every year. To him, it epitomised the abyss of far-right extremism he spent his life fighting.

Larsson’s life as an antifascist activist has been increasingly overlooked in the wake of his books’ phenomenal global success. One of Sweden’s most lucrative literary exports, the Millennium series has sold more than 100m copies across its various titles, according to publisher Norstedts. The novels have since been adapted into a number of Swedish TV films, a Hollywood blockbuster starring Daniel Craig, and expanded into two further trilogies by two other authors.

“And yet, the trilogy is only one episode in Stieg’s journey through the world, and it certainly isn’t his life’s work”, his life partner, Eva Gabrielsson, wrote back in 2011 in her memoir. Gabrielsson refers to the “Stieg of the ‘Millennium industry’” as being created after his death. The Larsson she knew was an unwavering antifascist – a deeply rooted conviction that shines through passage after passage of his page-turning crime thrillers.

Two decades on, the novels read like a gloomy premonition of Sweden’s political landscape to come, with the far-right Sweden Democrats a de facto part of the governing coalition since 2022. Larsson exposed the undemocratic underbelly of a country usually associated with Scandinavian exceptionalism rather than murderous Nazis. It was a side of Swedish society he knew all too well as a journalist.

In The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, a suspenseful whodunnit set on a fictional Swedish island inhabited by a wealthy industrialist family, Nazi pasts are never far beneath the surface of the plot. The Vanger brothers – Richard, Harald and Greger – were all members of the extreme right organisation New Sweden, with Harald becoming a “key contributor to the hibernating Swedish fascist movement”. The investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist later finds photos of Greger with Sven Olov Lindholm, a Swedish Nazi leader in the 1940s. And the fascist ideology of Richard – grandfather of the missing Harriet and her vicious brother Martin – led him to the Finnish trenches in the second world war.

In the sequel, The Girl Who Played With Fire, we find the biker gang Svavelsjö MC (whose logo features a Celtic cross, a symbol common among white supremacy groups) at the centre of a sex trafficking ring. The gang is well connected with the organised extreme right: its number two, Sonny Nieminen, has had dealings with neo-Nazi groups such as the Aryan Brotherhood and the Nordic Resistance Movement while in prison. Lisbeth Salander’s nemesis and, as it turns out, brother – a giant brute who feels no pain called Ronald Niedermann – was part of a skinhead gang in the 1980s in Hamburg, we are told; it’s a nod to a nascent far-right subculture in Germany responsible for arson attacks and murders.

And in Larsson’s final novel, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest, Blomkvist and Salander expose a shadowy clique within Swedish intelligence called “the Section”, comprised of members of the extreme right Democratic Alliance. “Within the Section this was no obstacle,” we learn. “The Section had in fact been instrumental in the very formation of the group.”

While the Millennium trilogy touches on many themes, especially violence against women (the original Swedish title Larsson insisted on for the first novel translates as “Men who hate women”), Larsson condemned the Swedish far right’s influence at all levels of society.

These convictions were rooted in his biography. His grandfather, with whom he grew up with in the icy north of Sweden, was an anti-Nazi communist imprisoned in an internment camp during the second world war. The grandfather would recount the horrors of the November pogrom, leaving a lasting impression on the young Larsson, himself a committed activist, first in the anti-Vietnam war movement, then in Maoist and Trotskyist circles. But it was Larsson’s commitment against the far right that would shape his politics for the bulk of his life.

In 1979, Larsson joined the Swedish news agency Tidningarnas Telegrambyrå, where he spent the next 20 years of his modest career as a low-level journalist. But as rightwing extremists began robbing banks, stealing weapons and murdering people in Sweden in the mid-1980s, Larsson became the agency’s go-to expert.

From 1983, he began writing for the British antifascist magazine Searchlight as a Stockholm correspondent. In 1991 he co-authored a Swedish-language book on rightwing extremism. And over the years he penned numerous reports and articles on contemporary antisemitism and the far right for organisations and institutes in Israel, Belgium and France.

A pivotal moment came in 1995. Larsson co-founded the Expo Foundation, which publishes a quarterly magazine on racism, antisemitism and the far right to this day. By 1999, it had become his day job. It was a calling that came at great personal cost, landing him on neo-Nazi hitlists. He received bullets by post. Colleagues were targeted through shootings or car bombs. According to Gabrielsson, it was for security reasons that they did not marry, leaving her without inheritance rights under Swedish law.

“Stieg was a nerd at heart, but there was a certain machismo to covering the far right in the 90s,” says Daniel Poohl, head of the Expo Foundation since 2005. “It was men researching dangerous other men and sometimes that meant having a baseball bat to protect yourself. Because that’s what you do when you feel that you’re on your own.”

Poohl is sitting in the first floor office of Expo in a nondescript block in a residential neighbourhood in Stockholm. Framed covers of the compact, stylish magazine, which today has 7,000 subscribers, adorn the wall behind him. In the next room, the 14 staff members are busy planning the coming issue, page drafts of which are plastered on the wall.

It’s hard not to think of Larsson’s fictional investigative publication Millennium, with which there are plenty of parallels in the novels. “A lot of people have said to me that Millennium is basically Expo,” says Poohl. “But it’s not. Millennium was the ultimate dream magazine. Stieg was a bad businessman, so it would never work in real life.”

The success of the novels, which Larsson wrote in his spare time, has partly helped the foundation, however. A representative of Larsson’s estate said that the holding company that controls it has donated a total of over 40 million Swedish kronor (£2.9 million) over the years, which “have clearly been crucial for Expo’s activities.” .

Poohl from Expo confirmed that the foundation received one off payments, as well as an additional yearly support from the Larssons for a period and a cut of the fourth novel in the series, The Girl in the Spider’s Web, published in 2015 and authored by David Lagercrantz.

“People sometimes think we received a lot of money through the books, but it’s less than they think,” he says. “We’re thankful for the financial support that we have received during the years. But the royalty agreement has since ended.” Poohl adds: “The sad part is that Stieg didn’t get to use his fame to further his political work.” Joakim Larsson, his brother, declined an interview request due to health reasons. Gabrielsson, now 70, didn’t respond to multiple interview requests.

With the electoral success of the far-right Sweden Democrats, a party rooted in Swedish nazism, Larsson’s political nightmare has in many ways come true. “He tried to show that they weren’t simply a gang of madmen plotting to infiltrate Swedish society … but a real political movement that had to be combated through political means,” wrote Gabrielsson back in 2011. The “Millennium millions”, as a Swedish documentary has called the fortune made through the trilogy, would have undeniably been a big boost to his other life’s work.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[sagesolsticewrites]

Pyaar Dosti Hai

Benny DeMarco x Ruthvika Patel (OFC)

Ruthie Patel runs into a certain furry member of the 100th Bomb Group— and his owner— on her way to celebrate her friend Juliet’s engagement to John Brady. The gang quickly welcomes her into their found family, but there could be something more between her and Benny DeMarco— if either of them ever finds the courage to make a move.

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: implied racism (being a brown girl in 1940s New York… oof), mentions of strict parenting, I think that’s it? Please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: the final member of the Book Club Girlies is here! Writing our little girl gang with @winniemaywebber and @ginabaker1666 has been so much fun, I can’t wait for y’all to see more of our darling girls! And a huge thank you to @hephaestn for the gorgeous moodboard!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Masterlist

Ruthvika Patel— Ruthie to her friends (and to, well… pretty much everyone outside of her small immigrant community)— rummages in her purse for the scrap of paper she had been referencing the whole way to the city. It was the address of the restaurant her old school friend had given her, where she was hosting a small get together with her and her fiancé’s friends, and had insisted that Ruthie come along.

“Are you sure, Jules?” She’d said over the phone, glancing over her shoulder for any sign of her mother— Ranjan Patel would be livid if she knew her daughter was using their hotel phone for a personal call, “I won’t really know any of them, I wouldn’t want to intrude—”

“Absolutely, Ruthie!” Her friend’s bubbly voice insisted, “You’re one of my best friends, I want you to meet Johnny. And it’s been too long since we’ve seen each other. Please? Jean and Jo will be there, we had so much fun with them last time, didn’t we?”

Ruthie could practically hear her batting her lashes pleadingly, and her resolve crumbled.

“Alright,” she relented, reaching for a pen and paper, “What’s the address?”

The Patels ran a hotel just on the outskirts of New York City, but that didn’t mean Ruthie was in any way prepared for being in the heart of it. Glancing from the street to the paper in her hands, and doing her best to ignore the stares of passers by— her mother always said she was lucky to get her father’s lighter tea-with-milk complexion, rather than her mother’s darker tones, but that didn’t mean she didn’t stand out in a crowd— she tries to get her bearings, but her efforts prove futile. She was utterly lost.

She doesn’t have long to mourn her circumstances, though, before a large mass of fur barrels into her legs.

Benny DeMarco grins as he strolls through the streets of New York, Meatball trotting happily by his side.

“You excited to see everyone, buddy?” He asks, the husky barking happily in response before returning to sniffing the air in earnest.

He’d been glad to get the invitation from Brady & his fiancée for a get together to celebrate their engagement, and he was looking forward to seeing his friends again. It had been a while since he’d seen anyone from Thorpe Abbotts, but last he’d heard, Olive and Dougie were still together and very happy, and he was happy for them.

Meatball tugs at the leash, straining to chase after all these new sights and smells.

“Hang on, buddy, we’ve still got a few blocks to go—“

Meatball pays no heed to Benny’s words, and soon the leash is tugged out of his grip entirely.

“Meatball! Get back here!”

He weaves through the crowded streets, chasing after the husky who’s getting farther and farther away. Eventually he loses sight of him completely and has no choice but to just keep running, hoping that his dog runs out of energy before he does.

Benny slows, gasping, as Meatball comes into view, sniffing eagerly at the feet of what Benny can’t help but notice is a very pretty girl.

“There you are, bud.”

“Oh!” The girl looks up from petting his dog with a sheepish smile, “Is he yours?”

“He is,” he laughs, noting her slight accent accompanying her rich brown skin and lush black waves, “Meatball’s first time in the city, he got a little excited.”

“Well, Meatball,” she grins, giving him one last pet before he returns to Benny’s side, “We have that in common. Is it yours as well? First time in the city, I mean.”

“Yes, sort of. I’m from Philly, but I’ve got a few friends who live here and I feel like I’ve been here already just from hearing them talk about it,” He laughs.

“Oh, I see,” the girl nods politely, seeming to wilt the tiniest bit before gathering herself, “Well, I hate to bother you, but…”

The girl seems to turn shy for a moment, fiddling with the scrap of paper in her hand, “Would you happen to know where to find—?” She says the name of the very restaurant he’s on his way to— “I’m a little lost.”

“Lucky for you,” he grins, “I’m on my way there now. I’d be happy to walk with you.”

“Thank you so much,” she says earnestly, falling into step beside him, “My friend’s waiting for me and I cannot be late.”

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

“She’s having a small party to celebrate her engagement, and I promised I’d be here to meet her fiancé.”

It’s too much to be a coincidence.

“Your friend’s fiancé wouldn’t happen to be named John Brady…?”

“I— yes!” She blinks, surprised, “You know him?”

“I’m on my way to that same party,” he grins, “Brady and I served together. Bernard DeMarco,” he holds out his hand, “But everyone calls me Benny.”

She shakes his hand, “Ruthie Patel.”

“Ruthie?”

He tries not to sound too surprised, but a name like Ruthie doesn’t exactly match up with what he had imagined…

“Well, it’s actually Ruthvika, but Ruthie’s easier for everyone, so—”

“Ruthvika?” He tests out the syllables, hoping he isn’t butchering them too badly, “That’s very pretty. You really prefer Ruthie?”

She flushes, and he backtracks quickly, hoping he didn’t overstep. He just met this girl, what was he thinking?

“Not that Ruthie’s not very pretty too! It’s just… if I had a name like that I’d want everyone to use it.”

“It’s not exactly a matter of preference,” Ruthie says shyly, reaching up to fiddle with the thin gold necklace resting between her collarbones, “But most people don’t want to bother trying to pronounce something like Ruthvika, so I went by Ruthie in school, and it just… stuck. Helped me assimilate.”

“Well,” he says, “You deserve to have your name pronounced correctly. Especially one as pretty as yours, Ruthvika.”

She does her best to smother her grin at his attempt at her full name, helping him with the pronunciation as they approach their destination.

“Ah, we’re here,” Benny says, beaming at his last nearly-flawless attempt at her name.

“I never would’ve found my way here on my own,” Ruthie admits with a laugh, “Thank you very much, Benny.”

“Ah, it was nothing,” he shrugs, “It’s really Meatball we should be thanking, otherwise I never would’ve run into you. Good thing he has excellent taste,” He can’t help adding with a wink, if only to see that pretty rose flush cover her cheeks again. “Shall we?”

Ruthie follows her new friend and his dog into the restaurant, scanning the room until she spots her friend seated at a secluded table on the back patio, along with several other people.

There’s some whispering around the room, and she can feel eyes on her as she makes her way out the back, but she does her best to ignore it and plasters a smile on her face just in time for Jules to meet her gaze.

“Ruthie!” She all but squeals, standing to pull her into a hug, “I’m so glad you could make it, it’s been too long. You look wonderful!”

“It’s so good to see you, Jules,” she beams, squeezing her friend tight.

Juliet steps back, seemingly taking in her friend, before turning to the table and beckoning over the man in the chair next to the one she had just left.

“Johnny,” Juliet grins, green eyes sparkling as he moves to stand next to her, hand resting easily on her waist, “this is Ruthie, my friend from school. Ruthie, this is John, my fiancé.”

Ruthie could practically see the little thrill that went through her friend at that last word, and her smile widens.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” John smiles, blue eyes crinkling as he reaches out for a handshake, “Jules here hasn’t stopped talking about how excited she was to see you.”

“She’s told me so much about you, it’s very nice to finally meet you as well.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to everyone!”

Jules guides her over to the other people sitting at the table, as Ruthie is reintroduced to Jean & Jo — their day at Coney Island and the sleepover at Jo & Jean’s apartment wasn’t an experience she was likely to forget anytime soon — and introduced in quick succession to Val DiRosano, Olive Lewis, and the men settled next to them: Harry Crosby, Rosie Rosenthal, Everett Blakely, and James Douglass (who insisted she call him Dougie, “everyone does”).

“How do you all kn—?”

Ruthie is in the middle of asking what their connection is to Jules when the relative quiet on the patio is broken by a chorus of “DEMARCO!” from the gentlemen in their group, a shout that has Ruthie nearly jumping out of her skin.

“Egan does that to me one time—” Benny grumbles good-naturedly as he pulls Brady in for a hug, reaching out for handshakes from Croz, Rosie, Blakely, and Douglass.

“A running joke from during the war,” Benny leans over to explain with a smile upon seeing the confused expression on Ruthie’s face as everyone settles into their seats.

“Ruthie, how do you know Benny?” Olive asks as she leans down to pet Meatball, calming the husky’s whines for attention.

“Oh! Well… I don’t, really? We just met—”

“Oh I’m sorry!” The Brit says hurriedly, “I just saw the two of you come in together, I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, it’s fine!” Ruthie assures her quickly, “Completely understandable—”

“That troublemaker’s the reason we met,” Benny interjects, putting a stop to the cycle of nervous politeness as he nods to Meatball, “I guess he got a little excited being in the big city, because he bolted away from me on our way here. Ended up chasing him for I don’t even know how many blocks until I found him with Ruthie here.”

Ruthie misses the knowing smile playing on Olive’s lips as she continues the story.

“I was trying to find the restaurant and was… completely lost,” she admits with a slightly embarrassed smile, “But luckily Benny here offered to walk with me.”

“Ever the gentleman,” Olive grins, with a teasing smile directed at the man himself, “Well I’m glad you made it. Jules has told us nothing but wonderful things.”

“I was so excited she invited me,” Ruthie smiles, “My parents’ hotel has been so busy, I’ve hardly gotten a second to breathe. And I was looking forward to meeting all of you.” Her smile turns soft, one meant just for Olive, “I know your letters to her were a great comfort, and I wanted to thank you for that.”

“I’m glad,” Olive says, “I was grateful to her as well for indulging me with that first letter, and now—” she gestures around the table at the girls, then towards the bar where the boys have migrated, “— what a friendship it’s turned into.”

“So Ruthie,” her attention is pulled towards Val, sitting across the table, “tell us about yourself! You said something about a hotel?” Val asks, innocent curiosity on her face.

“Oh, yes!”

She can’t help falling into her please-help-my-parents-stay-in-business persona, the one she usually reserves for her time at the hotel.

“My parents own a little hotel just outside the city— perfect for if you want a bit of quiet after a night out on the town or a day of sightseeing— and I’ve helped them run it since I was a little girl.”

She can’t quite hide a smile at the fond memories of helping carry meals up to rooms, helping change sheets between guests— her parents were right in assuming that her youth would earn her a few extra sympathy tips, and every little bit helped— and as she got older, she progressed to helping check guests in and out on top of all that, making sure everything was running smoothly for her aging parents.

At the rest of the girls’ insistence, she tells story after story of growing up in the hotel, Juliet chiming in with a story or two of her own from their school days— “That scratch behind the front desk is still there, by the way.” “No!”— and soon they’re all laughing and chatting like old friends, occasionally bending down to indulge Meatball with a pet when his whining becomes insistent enough.

Ruthie finds herself relaxing as the chatter envelops her, a smile stretching wide across her face and growing each time her eyes are drawn towards Benny leaning up against the bar with the boys. Her gaze repeatedly flicks back to the table before he can catch her staring, though apparently she hasn't been as subtle as she thinks when Olive leans in to whisper, “he’s handsome, isn’t he?”

Heat rushes to Ruthie’s cheeks.

“Oh— your fiancé?” Her eyes flick to the man next to Benny as she attempts to recall his name from the fairly rushed introductions, “Dougie, right? Yes, he is very handsome, you did well,” she makes an attempt at teasing her new friend.

“Oh, I know,” Olive grins, then clarifies, “But I was talking about Benny! I noticed you looking over at him and, well… you should know he’s an absolutely wonderful fella, such a gentleman. I could put in a good word for you if you want,” she adds with a friendly wink.

“I— no, no, that’s not necessary,” Ruthie scrambles to say as her cheeks heat even more, “I wasn’t— he was just nice to me,and I appreciated it, that’s all. But… you seem to know him very well,” she nods with a laugh to Meatball sitting comfortably at Olive’s feet, his head resting in her lap, “if his dog is any indication. Did you two meet during the war?”

“We did,” Olive smiles, “I was with the Red Cross on base, he was one of the first people I met there…”

As Olive tells the tale of her and Benny— strictly a friendship and nothing more, she assures her new friend— Ruthie notes out of the corner of her eye Val heading over to the bar.

“Benny,” Val nods in greeting as she squeezes between the boys to reach the bar, ordering another French 75.

“Val,” he smiles, “Sorry for stealing your man away.”

“I’ll live,” she says, catching Ev’s eye from where he’s chatting with Dougie to shoot him a wink and a red-lipped smile before turning her attention back to DeMarco and switching seamlessly into Italian.

“Ask her out, Benny.”

Benny blinks, quickly translating in his head before replying in the same.

“Ask who out? Olive’s already engaged, Val.”

“Don’t make me smack you, just because the war is over DeMarco…”

An arched eyebrow is all he needs to know that his glances over at Ruthvika weren’t as subtle as he’d hoped.

“…how did you know?”

“Um, because you’ve been staring at her all evening and I can tell you’ve barely listened to a word Croz has said.”

“To be fair, Croz is going on about some jazz record and only Rosie is listening at this point.” Benny laughs, glancing over to where Croz is conversing animatedly with a captivated Rosie Rosenthal, John Brady only half-listening next to them with his eyes fixed on his fiancée.

“Then, bring Ruthie a drink and maybe talk to her?” She flicks her gaze over to Ruthie, prompting Benny to glance over at her too, and he can’t help the smile that stretches across his face seeing her laughing with Olive.

“See?” Val says, gesturing to him, her eyes almost accusatory, “You’ve been looking at her like that all night and you expect me not to notice. Talk to her, Benny.”

With a final friendly nudge, she wanders back to the table, glass in hand.

Ruthie nods politely as Olive’s story winds down, her attention now captured by Val and Benny together at the bar, leaning into each other as they speak a language that, as far as she can tell, is definitely not English.

“And… I don’t mean to pry, but are Val and Benny close as well?”

“Hm?” Olive follows her gaze to the bar, “Oh, in a way.”

On Ruthie’s other side, Jean Crosby turns from her conversation with Jo, frowning slightly as she registers Val’s empty chair and her current place at the bar.

“Oh darn, I was hoping I could ask Val for a refill while she was over there,” she says, ice tinkling in her now empty rum and cola, brow furrowing as their voices reach the table, “Are she and Benny doing that thing where they speak Italian so none of us can understand them again? It’s a beautiful language, I’ll grant her that, but I can’t handle anything other than English after a few of these.”

At Ruthie’s somehow even more confused expression, Olive jumps in to explain.

“Val and Benny became good friends when we were on base, both being Italian and whatnot. I guess he was like a bit of home for her, giving her a chance to stretch her legs with her Italian, and I’ll admit it was very fun trying to figure out what they were saying at times,” the Brit adds with a laugh.

“Oh yes honey, they’re just friends, never been anything more” Jean adds from her place on Ruthie’s right with a knowing smile, “You’ve got nothing to worry about. We're all just one big happy family, aren’t we?”

A flush of embarrassment races through Ruthie at the knowledge that her attraction really wasn’t as subtle as she’d thought, but her smile grows at the tender way Jean refers to the group as a family. Given her own experience with family was largely with strict uncles and aunties, even stricter parents, and cousins competing ruthlessly for praise from the adults, the idea of a friendship of the kind she had seen Jo, Jean, and Juliet share becoming a kind of chosen family sent a warm thrill of happiness radiating from her heart.

“Family,” she murmurs, “That sounds wonderful.”

Jean lays a gentle hand on Ruthie’s arm, kind eyes sparkling, “And you’re one of us now, Vika sweetheart. Family whether you like it or not.”

Ruthie blinks back sudden tears at the use of the name she’d told the girls she preferred at their sleepover all those months ago. The young cousins who used to call her that had switched to Ruthie when they started school, along with using their own Americanized names at home, and it was so nice to hear even just a part of her true name from someone other than her mother.

Jean’s words echoed through Ruthie’s head. Family. One of us.

She could get used to that.

“Oh dear… I’m sorry, honey, did I say something wrong?” Jean fusses, seeing Ruthie’s watery eyes.

“No, I’m fine, I’m fine,” she assures her, brushing away her tears, “I just… you’re all so nice,” she laughs, unsure of how else to explain the overwhelming joy and disbelief welling up inside her.

“Just wait ‘til you see Val before she’s had her coffee, chicken,” Olive says lightheartedly, bumping Ruthie’s shoulder playfully, “You won’t think we’re all so nice then.”

“Vika’s seen what Jo and I are like in the mornings, Ol,” Jean replies with a laugh, “I’d say she’s ready for anything after that.”

“I think your infamous martinis had more of a hand in that than the early morning, Jean.”

Feeling bold, Ruthie takes a shot of her own at her new friend, much to the table’s delight.

“There she is!”

“Alright, Ruthie!”

“Oh goodness, what did I miss?” Val grins as she returns to the table, a fresh French 75 clutched in her perfectly manicured hand.

“Just Vika teasing me about my martinis,” Jean says, flashing Ruthie a grin.

“Vika?” Val looks momentarily confused.

“A nickname from when I was younger,” Ruthie explains, “But of course Ruthie’s fine as well if that’s easier—”

“Nonsense!” Val waves away Ruthie’s anxious rambling, “Vika’s a gorgeous name, I love it.”

Ruthie’s shoulders relax at Val’s smile and the compliment.

“So, we were talking martinis?” Val says, moving the conversation along, “Is now a good time to bring up the lasagna story?”

A chorus of good-natured groans tells Ruthie that this isn’t the first time Val has brought this up, and whatever it is, it’s sure to be amusing.

Val leans in with a grin, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“So, the first time Jean made me one of her martinis…”

The group, some a little tipsier than others, decide to call it a night as the bright sunshine warming the patio begins to fade to the red-gold of sunset. With plenty of hugs and several exchanges of addresses with Ruthie, most of the couples depart, leaving Benny and Ruthie with John and Juliet at the table, Meatball curled contently at their feet.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride, Ruthie?” Juliet asks, “I don’t love the idea of you taking the subway alone.”

“I'll be fine, Jules, I promise,” she assures her friend, tamping down the anxiety spiking in her chest at the thought of being alone on a dark subway platform. She made it here on her own, she can surely make it back.

“I’d be happy to go with you,” Benny says, leaning down to pet a whining Meatball, “I know this guy could use some adventure before being cooped up on a train tomorrow.”

“Well…” she pretends to think about it for a moment, then nods. “If it’s for Meatball’s sake, then yes,” adding sincerely, “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Benny grins.

They say their goodbyes and depart, Ruthie glancing back to catch a glimpse of John pulling her friend into a tender kiss.

It takes them a moment to get their bearings in the fading light, but with Benny’s help, Ruthie manages to guide them onto the subway for the hour-long commute to her little town of Lynbrook.

“So,” Benny says from his place beside her as he pets a snoozing Meatball, the excitement of the day having worn out the playful husky, “Have you… always lived here?”

Ruthie’s heard this question enough times to know what he’s really asking.

“I was born here, yes. In Harlem, actually, not too long after my parents came over from India,” A smile crosses her face at the fuzzy memories of playing with the neighbor children in their tiny, run-down apartment building, of visiting her uncle’s jewelry shop and begging to try on some of the cheap costume jewelry he sold alongside the much more valuable items.

She continues, “My parents moved out to Lynbrook to start their hotel when I was five, and we’ve been there ever since.”

“You like it there, don’t you.”

It wasn’t exactly a question, but she answered anyway.

“I do,” she smiles, “Don’t tell Jo and Jean this, but I like being a little removed from the hustle and bustle of the big city, getting to choose when to be part of all the excitement instead of having it all around me all the time. And my parents love the hotel— love having something they own, love being their own bosses, so to speak. And I love getting to help them live their dream.”

A warmth blooms in Benny’s chest seeing the tender look in Ruthie’s eyes when she talks about her parents. It’s clear to him how much she cares about her family, how close she is to them, and he feels extremely lucky to see that softness in her come to the surface.

A question floats to the front of his mind that… well, he’s not sure if it’s too personal, but he’s had a few drinks and his filter isn’t quite where it should be tonight.

“Do your parents call you Ruthie too?”

“Sometimes,” Ruthie replies, seemingly unfazed by the way Benny blurted out his question, “They usually stick to Ruthvika, though. My little cousins used to call me Vika, but when they started school they switched to their own Americanized names and started calling me Ruthie.”

“Vika…” Benny hums, testing the pronunciation, “I think I heard some of the girls calling you that tonight. Is that a favorite nickname of yours?”

“I don’t really have a favorite,” Ruthie lies. Ever agreeable, ever flexible Ruthie. Her parents had trained her to keep most of her opinions to herself, especially with men, to be seen and not heard, and that training was coming in handy now.

Benny sees right through it.

“Are you sure?” He asks sincerely, “It’s your name, you can have a preference.”

His warm brown eyes meet her own, fingers brushing ever so slightly in the space between them.

The courage she’d managed to reach for during her conversations with the girls seems a bit farther away now, but she manages to summon a scrap of it to say, “I do love being called Vika.”

She meets Benny’s gaze with a small smile, but can’t help adding: “But I’m also fine with Ruthie— it’s easier for people to pronounce.”

The corner of Benny’s mouth quirks up into a smile.

“We’ll work on that. Vika’s a very pretty name.”

He resists adding for a very pretty girl. Now isn’t the time to be trying out lines, no matter how true the sentiment is.

Ruthie— Vika— ducks her chin to hide her smile, changing the subject quickly.

“Has Meatball always been yours?” She asks, smiling down at the sleeping husky at her feet.

“Feels like it,” Benny grins, “Won him at craps during the war.”

His smile grows at Ruthie’s raised eyebrows, and he continues.

“We stopped in Greenland on our way over to refuel, I ended up taking this troublemaker with me to base on our way out. Sorta became our official mascot.”

“You didn’t— he didn’t come up in the plane with you, did he?”

“Only on that first flight to base,” he replies, wanting to soothe away the slight hint of alarm in her voice, “He stayed with Olive and Val and the rest of the Clubmobile girls when I went up. Got a thousand complaints about fur in the donuts, but come on, imagine staying mad at a sweet boy like him.”

Vika laughs, “He does have a way of winning people over.”

Their banter continues for the rest of the ride, so engrossed in each other that the time speeds by and the pair have to scramble to make it off the train at Ruthie’s stop. They hail a taxi to get to the hotel, at which point Benny asks:

“There wouldn’t happen to be any available rooms at your parent’s hotel tonight, would there?”

“I… believe there are. Why?”

Benny gestures to the suitcase he’s been carrying all day, the one Ruthie had wholly forgotten about, “My train doesn’t leave until tomorrow morning, and I don’t exactly plan on sleeping under the stars tonight. Not that I have anything against that, but,” he shrugs, “what can I say? I like my creature comforts. This will be much more convenient than going back and trying to find someplace to stay in the city, and besides,” he flashes Vika a teasing grin, “I’ve gotta see what all the fuss is about.”

The taxi pulls up to a modest two-story hotel, the words Forest Inn lettered in vibrant red above the doorway. Ruthie finds herself suddenly nervous as they pay the fare— or rather, Benny does, despite Ruthie’s protests— and exit the car, scanning over Benny’s face as subtly as she can as he takes in the building.

“It’s nothing fancy,” she rambles as she leads Benny and Meatball to the front doors, “But my parents have put so much work into it and, well… it’s home.”

The group steps into a small lobby, and something in Ruthie relaxes at the familiarity of the polished wood floors, rich burgundy wallpaper, the lamps along the walls washing everything in a golden glow, the soft red carpet leading to the dark wood front desk where—

“Mammi?”

Standing at the front desk, Ranjan Patel looks up from the ledger she’s writing in, a tired smile crossing her face when she sees her daughter.

“Welcome home, beta. Did you have a good time with Juliet? How is she? Is her fiancé nice?”

“It was fine, she’s good, I—“ Ruthie blinks, “Mammi, I thought Pravi Auntie was going to take over for you at 6–“

Mrs. Patel waves away her daughter’s concern, “One of her little ones took ill, I told her to look after her daughter. I don’t mind staying here.”

Ruthie lets out an exasperated sigh, but it’s clear her annoyance stems from concern for her mother.

“You were up at the crack of dawn today, Mammi, you need rest,” She steps behind the desk to usher her mother out of the way, “Please? I’ll take over until Ronny Uncle comes in for the night shift.”

Ruthie’s mother sighs, relenting, then straightens when her gaze catches Benny standing in the middle of the room.

“Alright, beta, just let me get this gentleman checked in—”

“No, Mammi, I’ve got it,” Ruthie says hurriedly, waving Benny over, “This is one of Juliet’s friends, he was kind enough to give me an escort home and needed a place to stay before he leaves town tomorrow. I told him I could get it all taken care of. Benny, this is my mother.” She introduces anxiously.

“Bernard DeMarco, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Benny greets with a beaming smile, “Your daughter’s told me nothing but wonderful things about your hotel.”

“Very nice to meet you, sir,” Mrs. Patel says with a tight smile, glancing with a slight frown down at Meatball, before putting on her customer service mask once more, “I hope you enjoy your stay, and if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Introductions finished, she turns back to Ruthie, “Ronny Uncle should be here at 10, Ruthvika, but I can send over your father if you want him with you.”

“I’ll be fine, Mammi,” she waves her away gently, “Good night.”

“Shubh ratri, beta.”

With that, her mother slips out the side door towards their apartment in the building next door.

“Sorry about that,” Vika says with an embarrassed laugh, “She’s always working too hard.”

“No, I understand,” Benny says with a soft smile, “Mothers never think they’re doing enough, even when they’re going above and beyond.”

A quiet moment passed between them, interrupted by a whine from Meatball— the husky’s apparently eager to get to bed.

“Oh, your room!” Ruthie starts, “Sorry about that…” She reaches for a key with one hand as she begins filling out paperwork with the other.

“You’ll be in room 213,” she beams, turning the paper towards him for him to sign as she holds out the key.

Benny’s brow furrows as he notes the price stated on the paper— it’s much lower than the rate they have posted on the signage.

“Hang on, uh— Vika, I’m not much of a math whiz, but this seems—”

“Consider it a friends and family discount,” she says, waving away his concern, and the look in her eyes brooks no room for argument.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely once she’s noted it in the ledger, concern sparking in his mind as he notes the darkness outside and shy, sweet Vika manning the desk. “You’ll be alright out here until your uncle comes?” He asks, recalling her conversation with her mother.

“My uncle?” Her brow furrows, then her expression clears as she understands, “Oh, Ronny isn’t really my uncle, he’s my neighbor,” she explains with a laugh, “It’s just a thing Indian people do, showing respect to our elders. We’re raised to refer to elders, even ones not related to us, as Uncle or Auntie as a sign of respect. But anyway,” she ducks her head down to hide her embarrassment— she must be more tired than she thought to be rambling like that— “Yes, I’ll be fine, Benny. Have a good night.”

“You too, Ruthvika.”

A wide smile stretches across her face as Benny leads Meatball towards the stairs.

His pronunciation of her name had been almost perfect.

[topguncortez]

Bad Medicine | Prologue | A TopGun AU

Masterlist | Next Part pairing: Jake Seresin x OC!Reader (last name is Santiago) synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good. WARNINGS: drugs, guns, stripping, violence, abuse, fighting, prostitution, blood, alcohol usage, mentions of sexual assault, torture, death, cops, stalking.

On the outside, the city of San Diego looked like any other big city. Lots of skyscrapers, bumper to bumper traffic, tourists and visitors walking around everywhere. But it’s what lies underneath all of that. The monsters that lurked in the dark, the demons that hid in the shadows, the creatures that go bump in the night. 

No, these monsters aren’t the fictional ones you read about in books and see on tv. These monsters are real people. They are what people call, MOBSTERS 

Some people believed that the whole mafia, gangs and mobsters died back in the 1940s, but the truth was, those monsters just went into hiding. Everything is run by the mob. The girls on the corner, the guns the cops used, the drugs in the prisons, the boxing matches on pay-per-view, sometimes, even the clothes on your back.

Most of the famous mobs had died out when Al Capone finally bit it, so did the crash of the New York Five. But between the mobsters tearing each other apart, between the shadows, two other families were building up their ranks. 

The shift between the downfall of the Luciano family and the rise of the Seresins was easy. Nobody ever pointed a finger at a German man selling ammo at the local sporting store. Seresin didn’t sound like “Mangano” or “Gagliano” or “Bonanno”. Patrick Seresin was a smart man, and decided to move the vast mafia playground to a quieter city that would draw less heat. The bright lights and big city of the west called to Patrick, so he started the slow movement towards Hollywood. But Patrick was smart, and knew that Hollywood was too much of a target. So he settled for a small (at the time) town of San Diego, California. 

The Seresins were one to be feared. Their mafia bloodline was passed down from generation to generation. The current leader was a beautiful man with gorgeous green eyes and blonde hair. You didn’t dare mess with him unless you wanted to be the next one sitting on the pew in the chamber. But the leader of the Seresin Mafia didn’t act alone, no, he had three of his closest friends, those who were basically brothers, working with him. 

Bob Floyd, the brains behind the operation, was smart, his brain like a human computer. He was able to infiltrate government sanctions with ease. You didn’t know you were hacked until it was too late and your porn search history was blasted all over your workplace. Bob had ghosts, things that haunted him when he closed his eyes at night. He was too smart, too gentle for his own good, which caused his heart to break and his mind to be scarred. 

Bradley Bradshaw, aka Rooster, was the muscle, and Bob’s best friend. He was slender and tall, with beautiful curly hair. He was a dark, gentle soul, who hid in the shadows. He was like a snake, letting you get close until he struck, quick and quiet. His closet was full of skeletons he was yet to bury. Bob was one of the only people in the family to know about the horrible things Rooster had done. Wherever you saw Bob, you saw Rooster, and vice versa.

Natasha Trace, aka Phoenix, stood out against the group because she was the only woman, and sat at the right hand of the leader of the Seresin mafia. She was beautiful, her eyes captivating. She was everything that a mob boss's wife was supposed to be. She supported everything that her fiance did. She knew the ins and outs of the job, almost a little too well. But no one suspected her, and no one would have if it wasn’t for her falling in love with the wrong man. It was like star crossed lovers, except one survived and the other one didn’t. 

And last but not least, their fearless leader, Jacob. The man dripped confidence and power. He could have women pulling their panties aside with just a simple look. Even though Jake had older sisters, it just made sense that Jake was the family leader. His father George, didn’t think his daughters had what it took to be a cold blooded killer like Jake. George said it took a “special kind of demon” to kill those he loved. Jake was a cocky fucker, having a painting of him in a blood red suit hanging over his desk like he was the real fucking Don Vito Corleone.

Although the Seresins seemed to be very successful on camera, it was behind that the problems lied. They were starting to struggle financially due to a crackdown of gun and drug sales from the ATF. The clubs and casinos had become one of their main sources of income, which upset George Seresin. He wanted to carry out his father’s plan of having a mafia member in the boardroom, not scourging around and feeding the junkies at their feet. So George came up with a plan to help the family. One that required the assistance of a notorious Italian mobster, Rafael Santiago.

Rafael never wanted a daughter, and it was clear to anyone who saw it. He had three boys who were perfect to take over the family business when it was time. But Y/N Santiago was a hidden gem. She was smart, drabbled in the art of torture, and dressed to impress. Rafael had a plan for her the second the doctor said it was a girl. Her life had already been decided on and she didn’t even know it. Her mother, the woman who was also a business player, knew of her daughter's fate. Marie Santiago had been the same way, being betrothed to a man she never would’ve married if it wasn’t for the family business she had learned to love. 

When Y/N was old enough to move away from her family, she did just that. She moved to New York, and found herself a job at a local club. Rafael didn’t approve of her job, he didn’t think his daughter should be dancing on a pole for men, but it kept her away from the family. While working at the club, Y/N had met whom she thought was the love of her life, a young man by the name of Francisco Solano. 

But unlike the fairy tales and the stories, this relationship turned dark and bloody, and ended up with a battered and tortured Y/N on his father’s front door. Rafael could see the end of his legacy crashing down, and knew what he had to do to help his legacy succeed and grow. Even if that meant setting up his only daughter for marriage to a man he hardly trusted. 

CHARACTER MOODBOARDS:

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[agirlnamedbone]

from Morris Huberland's "Girl Gang" series // 1940s/1950s // New York Public Library collection

[kryptonbabe]

Welcome to Madam Brawn's Crime School for Delinquent Girls

A review of Plastic Man's story in Police Comics #4 (1941) by Jack Cole

I've been working my way through Plastic Man's early comics, and this was the first one that stood out to me. The story had my attention from the beginning for the early introduced character of Madam Brawn is just so magnetic, her morals so complex, her ways so compelling. She runs her school for delinquent girls, accepting women fresh out of prison with nowhere else to go.

Things were hard enough for male ex-cons, I can only imagine the stigma women had to face after getting out of prison in the 1940s. In Madam Brawn's school they must go through intense physical training and practice shooting (using cop manequins as targets), the group is also forbidden to smoke, only Brawn is allowed that.

However, there is a price for Brawn's protection and the day her group of women "graduated" from her teachings, Madam Brawn sent two of her "dames" to take over the protection racket going on in the city nearby. She was so confident in her training only two women were necessary for the take over, and they succeed, sending a message to Lefty, the leader of the rival gang.

This is still pretty early in the story and, noting Plastic Man's overall absence of it, I felt myself rooting for Madam Brawn's gang of delinquent women, and I think that is the intention of the writer and artist, Jack Cole. Later in comic book history this kind of sympathetic criminals would not be possible anymore, that's one of the reasons the golden age has such a different tone, when the Comics Code Authority censorship was established it changed everything, a context that makes this story even more interesting.

Brawn's gang had to face the consequences of their takeover and later that day the whole rival gang went to Brawn's farm, even their leader, Lefty, tagged along to threaten her in person with a pistol. Brawn's response to that came very naturally: she broke his arm and sent her dane dogs after the rest of the gang. They fled, but Lefty's pride was injured.

I love how Jack Cole portrays the movements in his panels, there's a dynamic flow to his art that makes the action in the comic stand out, which combined with his talent for drawing face expressions and gestures, makes it for a very fluid reading experience.

And that's where Plastic Man comes in! All this time Plas was infiltrated in Lefty's gang in his criminal persona, Eel O'brian. At this point in continuity he is an undercover cop while also maintaining his criminal connections, a double agent of sorts. He was hanging with Lefty's men and keeping an eye on this gang war situation, that was until Lefty proposed to invade Madam Brawn's farm with WAR TANKS. Escalating things in an insane proportion. Where did he find war tanks? Brawn only broke his arm... what a sensitive pride Lefty must have had.

So Plas goes straight to Brawn's farm to warn her and her gang of the danger they're facing, their response is to torture Plastic Man and have much fun while doing it. Meanwhile Brawn prepares for war, quite literally, she had an arsenal of guns and what I believe were grenades in her farm. Good for her.

"Ain't had so much fun since I poisoned granma!"

This is no morally ambiguous group of women, they are unapologetic vicious and I love them for it. Especially thinking how it must have been for their community to develop in that farm and how accepting they must have learned to be of one another in order to live and thrive together.

That being said, they basically kill every single one of the goons that tried to invade Madam Brawn's property, including the leader Lefty, that must've been so upset about being hit by Brawn that he could not resist the temptation to destroy her place himself.

After things calm down it's time for Madam Brawn vs. Plastic man, and she's really not a suitable opponent for him, at least without the rest of her gang. She loses the one-sided fight against Plas, who let's her go free despite several murders she and her delinquent girls perpetrated that night, all in self-defense so it's cool, different times you know?

I loved this little tale of female empowerment and gang war, it was an unexpected story for sure and even though Madam Brawn's gang of delinquent girls was very obviously not heroic, they were not really portrayed as absolute villains either. They train and seem very professional and prepared compared to Lefty's gang, the men are only shown playing cards and drinking.

I'm aware Madam Brawn is possibly more appealing to modern audiences than in her own time, however I do wonder if the public was not even a little charmed by this female gang leader even back then, she got another story in the sequence (I'll make sure to check that out), but sadly those were Madam Brawn's only two appearances. She remains an obscure oddity and the reason I decided to write this, thanks for reading!