#home inspection boston | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cinnamongorll · 5 months

Text

a fragile line - chapter 13

read on ao3 (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Fic synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 6.3k

Chapter 13: 'First Defeat'

Juliet's POV:

Juliet’s legs were about to give out.

With each shaky step, her body threatened to crumple onto the cracked pavement beneath her. She struggled to support her own weight, let alone the hulking figure of the man draped against the left side of her body, with his arm locked around her neck.

Joel’s remaining consciousness was only visible in the slight shuffle of his feet, helping Juliet as she dragged his body along the street. Sweat soaked her forehead, dampening her hairline. Her breaths were short and rapid, a dizziness creeping into her head, staggering her brutal steps. Juliet risked a quick glance down at the pavement. Vicious red drops of blood followed them, darkening the ground in a trail of horror.

Juliet’s erratic breaths caught at the sight of Joel’s blood.

She tightened her hold on his body, her fingers digging into his side. She urged him, with the press of her torn nails against his flannel, to stay awake, to stay with her.

A bead of sweat dripped from her forehead down her face as Juliet’s mind repeated the same words, anchoring her drifting thoughts back to the burning of her weakening limbs: just a few more steps, just a few more steps, just a few more steps.

Earlier that day:

“So, how’d you end up in Boston anyway?” Juliet queried in a quiet voice.

Joel’s head turned sharply towards her, irritation clear in his tight expression.

“Pass,” he responded.

Juliet sighed in a long, overly dramatic, exhale. Then she turned, glancing up at the man walking beside her. Juliet had a habit of silently inspecting his face when he wasn’t looking, her eyes would trace the stubble along his jaw, glide over the curve of his nose, and follow the fine lines around his eyes which were usually trained on the road ahead of them. This time, though, Joel’s gaze was focused on Juliet, irritation still housed within his hard features, but his eyes…. his eyes were warm, open, amused. Juliet nearly stumbled over her own feet.

She blinked, looking away.

Another week or so had passed since the high school, when Joel had stayed awake all night to make sure Juliet didn’t fall asleep. Her concussion had cleared up a few days ago but Joel was still vigilant about sleeping next to her. Juliet didn’t mind, she found that the soft sounds he made in his sleep were comforting, soothing almost. Juliet liked the reminder that he was close to her.

The road they were walking was long, and the afternoon heat was heavy. Juliet was bored, and sweaty, and as per usual, she needed a distraction. So, for the past hour, she had fired question after question at Joel, praying one would land, prompting him to share some aspect of himself with her. Juliet held every small bit of information she had gathered about him close to her chest. He was cold, lethal, and a constant mystery to her.

But, unsurprisingly, each hopeful question had bounced off of Joel as his mental shields deflected every one of Juliet’s attempts to get to know him.

Juliet decided to chase her distraction in other ways. She tilted her head around to look at the trees enclosing them on an endless road of abandoned cars and decaying houses, her mind drifting to imagine an alternate version of herself sitting on one of the porch swings. What it must have felt like to sit there and watch the daylight fade into soft oranges and pinks. She could have read her books and drifted off into her imaginary worlds with no concern for what the next day would bring, or who the next day might bring her closer to. A cold chill attacked Juliet’s bare arms despite the heavy afternoon heat. She shivered, her eyebrows pinching together.

Every day that passed was another day closer to freeing Ethan from her father. Juliet’s steps involuntarily quickened at the thought. She missed Ethan, her heart ached when the memory his pleading eyes the night she left all those years ago floated through her mind. For Ethan, Juliet would trade her remaining freedom. This was a decision she had made peace with, she always knew her freedom was never secured. Each step was another step closer to Ethan, yes, but it was also another step closer to her father. These slow days travelling with Joel were her last chance to experience life outside of the towering walls of her father’s community, her last chance to explore the ruins of life scattered around America, her last chance to smile and actually mean it.

Juliet snuck another glance at Joel, he was walking with his usual pace, his fingers tapping against his dark jeans. Joel would get her to her father, she trusted that he would, and then he would leave, use his gifted weapons to find his brother and disappear from her life forever. She would return to her prison, never to forget the sound of his irritated sigh, the hard clench of his jaw, or the look in his eyes that day at the gas station.

Joel, on the other hand, would find his brother and forget all about her, as if she never existed. As if he had never held her in his arms or wiped a tear from her cheek.

They weren’t far from Juliet’s old community now, probably another week if Joel had calculated it right. Fear threatened to settle upon her shoulders, weighing Juliet down for the remainder of their journey together. Juliet fought against it, using her familiar tactic of constant distraction to keep the terror at bay, to allow her to enjoy her last days of independence.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice called behind her.

Juliet’s feet staggered to a stop, turning to face him. She hadn’t realised he had slowed, falling behind. He had his map out, his finger tracing the roads. Juliet walked back towards him, shielding her eyes from the blinding sun. It was early autumn now, the trees had begun to turn that shade of russet orange, but the heat still remained in the air, refusing to entirely leave summer behind.

Joel’s jacket was tucked under the strap of his backpack, like her own, and the sleeves of his green flannel were rolled up, revealing his tanned forearms. His veins were bulging in the heat, Juliet kept her eyes focused on the map in his hands, blinking any time her traitorous vision would glide over his strong arms.

“What’s up?” she asked with a cough, clearing her throat.

“Heard a place up here used to be a firefly basecamp, might be worth checkin’ out for some ammo left behind,” Joel explained, using his free hand to point up a road to their right.

Their night at the high school had provided them with plenty cans of semi-edible food for the rest of their journey if they rationed right, which Joel always made sure they did. However, they were running low on ammo, dangerously low. Juliet only had a couple bullets left in her gun. She made sure to sharpen her knife last night before she fell asleep.

Juliet nodded. “Lead the way,” she replied, with a mock salute.

Joel gave her a long look before tucking his map back in his back pocket and moving to turn up the street he had pointed to. Juliet followed behind.

………………………………………………………….

“Wait, another high school?” Juliet asked, amazed. Her eyes widened as she stared at the sprawling campus they had just entered, Juliet struggled to comprehend the amount of people who must have once walked these paths and filled these buildings.

“No, a University,” Joel answered, looking down at her with an unreadable expression.

“Oh,” Juliet murmured, still staring at the collection of towering buildings stretching beyond her view.

“So people would go here after high school?” she asked, her curiosity overpowering her.

“Some did,” Joel replied, then started walking again, heading towards the first building. Its red bricks were drowning in moss and vines but it still looked relatively well preserved, the overgrown look actually added to its charm, Juliet thought.

“To do what?” she questioned as she raced to catch up with him.

“They lived here, went to classes and stuff,” Joel explained as they climbed the stairs towards the entrance, avoiding the thick cracks in the concrete.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Think it was just as much about partying and findin’ themselves as anythin’ else.”

“Right,” Juliet replied quickly, as if she knew what he meant.

They reached the top of the stairs and Joel released a relieved sigh as Juliet wiped more sweat off her forehead. Then she turned, looking around them. The surrounding area was eerily quiet, without the twenty years worth of greenery leaking from every brick on every building, the University would look almost normal, Juliet assumed. Well, apart from the firefly symbol spray-painted across the door of the closest building.

Joel looked down at Juliet, then nudged his head in the direction of the door before he started walking again, slower this time after climbing all those steps. Juliet stepped forward, ready to follow Joel towards the building when something darted across the corner of her vision. Juliet didn’t hesitate, she pulled out her gun and whipped it in the direction of the figure.

The safety was off and Juliet had her finger hovered over the trigger when she stopped, her body freezing in a state of shock. It wasn’t a man lurking to her left, it was a strange hairy creature that was now sprinting towards her.

Juliet would have been embarrassed to admit it, but she screamed.

She let out a loud, piercing cry and darted towards Joel. Juliet would face off any man who dared to approach her, but she didn’t fuck with whatever that thing was.

She grabbed hold of Joel’s arm who had already begun to race towards her, genuine terror on his face. Then he noticed what had spooked Juliet.

Juliet hid behind Joel’s back, her fingers bunched in his shirt. She waited for Joel to make his move, would he shoot the thing? Or pull them somewhere safe?

What Juliet didn’t expect was the sound of his laughter. Juliet felt Joel’s shoulders shake as he barked out a stunned chuckle.

“What the hell?” she murmured under her breath as she pulled away from Joel. The creature was still there, just standing staring at them, moving its weird arms. Juliet’s whole body shuddered.

Strangely, she was now more shocked by Joel’s laughter as she turned to look at his face. His features were attempting to reconstruct his usual expression of cool indifference but Juliet could still make out the amusement shining through. The lines around his eyes had crinkled and his lips were pursed, as though he was actively restraining himself from smiling.

Juliet frowned.

“What is that thing?” she demanded in a low voice, scared she’d startle it into running towards her again.

Joel looked down at her, his lip twitching when he caught sight of her shocked face.

“First time seein’ a money?” he asked as he raised his eyebrows,

Juliet smacked his arm. “Of course it’s my first time seeing a monkey, you dick,” she scoffed, stuffing her gun back in her pocket.

Joel raised his hands in mock surrender. “Must be from the old labs,” he explained, his mouth now curved in a clear smile. It made him look younger, his face softened with the hint of joy.

Juliet’s gaze bounced between the monkey and Joel for several seconds before she barked out a laugh of her own, her hands reaching up to cover her mouth as a smile overtook her serious expression. Joel dropped his hands slowly, his eyes not leaving Juliet’s warm gaze. Her laughter was loud and unrestrained. Joel took a step backwards, wiping a hand over his face to erase any remnants of his amusement. Something in her smile had startled him.

“Come on,” he murmured, then turned, striding towards the entrance.

Juliet’s smile dropped. She took one last look at the monkey before she followed Joel into the building, the cold enveloping them as they took out their guns and torches.

………………………………………………………

The door opened with a loud creak as Joel pushed against it, the handle stiff as it turned in his hand. Joel went first, walking into the large room, his head scanning the rows and rows of seats shaped in a tiered circle around half the room. Juliet gasped when she entered, she had never been in a room this big.

They had already sweeped the bottom floor, searching each room for leftover supplies. No luck yet. Joel wasn’t too worried, he told Juliet they would be more likely to find stuff in the labs. This didn’t look like a lab, though.

Joel must have seen Juliet’s confused expression. “It’s a lecture hall,” he explained. “Professors would teach hundreds of students in a room like this.”

“Wow,” Juliet whispered as she moved to stand before the enormous chalkboard at the front of the room. Then she turned, looking back at Joel, who was still scanning the room, searching for any threats.

“This make you all nostalgic?” she asked as she attempted to meet his eyes.

Joel huffed and reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head. “Didn’t go to University,” he replied, his voice quieter than usual.

“No? What did you do?” Juliet pressed, moving away from the chalkboard to hover near him.

Joel took a long minute to answer, busing himself with rifling through the papers on the desk in front of him. Then finally, he replied.

“I just did my job.”

“Which was?”

“We were called contractors”

Juliet was shocked, not by what he said, but by his decision to actually answer her questions. She bit her lip and thought about her response, careful not to spook him. Joel was like a wild animal sometimes, he was always in fight of flight, Juliet had to tiptoe around him, praying that he wouldn’t run at the first sign of her gentle curiosity.

“Contractors?” she finally asked, keeping her tone as casual as possible. She didn’t want him to know that she was hanging onto his every word.

“Built houses, stores, that kinda thing.”

“That’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah, guess it was.”

Before Juliet could ask him another question, he walked towards the door, having decided their tour of this room was over. Juliet sighed, her steps echoing in the silent room as she jogged to catch up with him.

…………………………………………………

“This might be something,” Juliet announced as they stepped into the first lab they came across. Firefly symbols were dotted about the walls. Joel scoffed at the sight. “Hmmm,” he agreed.

Juliet moved over to the windows lining the back wall. The blazing sun had dimmed, fading into the softer light of early evening. Juliet turned the handle and cracked the window open, allowing the hot air from outside to clear away the staleness of the lab. She stepped backwards, gazing out at the University campus, it was so beautiful, Juliet wished they could stay longer. When she turned back around, Joel was bent down at some cabinets, opening and closing doors, searching for anything valuable.

Juliet joined him, taking a seat on the floor to rifle through a low cupboard. Joel didn’t look at her as she sat beside him, but his body visibly tensed. Juliet shifted away from him, she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.

They worked together for a while, searching every inch of the room. Every cupboard, every cabinet, every desk. They found nothing of value, only the trash that the fireflies left behind. Joel muttered under his breath a few times, Juliet thought she heard him say “Typical.”

When they decided this room was a bust, Juliet stood up, wiping her hands off her worn trousers. Joel was already heading towards the door, ready to start searching the next room. When he was a couple steps away, he stopped suddenly, his head whipped towards the window as he reached out a hand to still Juliet’s movements.

“What?” Juliet whispered, she hadn’t heard anything strange.

Joel gave her one of his lethal looks, raising a steady finger to his lips.

Then she heard it:

“This way,” a voice called from below the window.

Juliet’s eyes darted to Joel’s, her lips parting in shock.

His finger hadn’t moved from his lips. They stood there frozen for several long seconds before they heard anything more.

“Shut the fuck up,” another voice growled.

Joel moved his finger from his lips and reached down to grab Juliet’s wrist, his large hand enclosing around her. Juliet blinked up at him, watching as he removed his gun from his pocket with his other hand, urging Juliet with a pointed look to do the same. She did as he asked.

Joel’s hand was still around her wrist and he used that position to pull her closer, his face tilted down. “Out the back,” he murmured as his hot breath skimmed over her face. Juliet nodded and swallowed rough, her brain wasn’t working at full capacity due to Joel’s close proximity.

He scanned her face once more then moved, pulling Juliet behind him as they stalked out the room and down the hallway, searching for a stairwell. Juliet stumbled to keep up with his pace. His grip on her wrist was tight, but it didn’t hurt. Joel would never hurt her.

When they reached the end of the hallway, Joel let go of Juliet to push on the double doors into the stairwell. There were no windows, but there wasn’t enough time to get their torches out of their bags again. Juliet bit her lip again as she followed Joel’s blurry figure down the stairs. She was very much aware of the fact that they had little to no ammo left, and they didn’t know how many men there were outside. At the bottom, Juliet could make out a fire exit door lining the wall. Joel reached a hand behind him to brush against her arm, checking she was still there, before he pushed against the doors.

The afternoon sun bled through the dark of the stairwell as the doors popped open. Juliet glanced up at Joel’s face. He nodded, reassuring her that everything would be okay, they just had to get off the campus and back to the main road as quickly as possible. “Ready?” he mouthed.

Juliet adjusted her grip on her gun before she nodded back, she was ready.

They darted around the edge of the building as they tried to get their bearings. Every building and every path looked the same, Juliet’s head was spinning as Joel signalled for them to move more into the open. Her eyes were wide as Joel nodded reassuringly.

The bolted across the grass, heading for the path she now recognised from earlier. Juliet’s heart was banging against her chest but she kept moving, kept following Joel. He would get them out of this, she trusted him with everything she had.

“Got them!” a voice called from behind them.

Juliet’s head swung around but she kept running. They had spotted them, two men were headed in their direction.

Joel stopped suddenly and Juliet ran into him, her whole body shaking as she slammed against his hard chest. He grabbed her and pulled her behind him. Juliet struggled against his hold, attempting to stand beside him but Joel was having none of it. “Stay behind me and stay quiet,” he ground out, only loud enough for her to hear. Juliet grunted as Joel’s arm stretched behind him and held her against his back.

Juliet moved her head slightly so she could see around Joel’s arm. The men were closer now, Juliet felt Joel reach his arms up and fire a shot from his gun. She flinched as the sound rang out in her ears.

She heard a shout as one of the men fell to the ground, screaming in pain. Juliet tried to move around Joel to help take out the next man, but in the same second Joel darted forward, grabbing the other man in a headlock.

A sneer overtook Joel’s face as Juliet watched him strangle the man in his arms. She didn’t blink when she heard the crunch of his neck breaking. Joel let the man fall to the ground. Then he turned, facing Juliet, breathing heavily.

Juliet started to move towards him, her hands twitching to comfort him, to thank him for saving them again. She stopped when she noticed another figure darting towards Joel from behind.

“Joel!” she shouted, pointing behind him.

Joel turned just in time, grabbing the other man’s arm before he fired a shot. They struggled against each other, standing too close so Joel couldn’t shoot. This man was stronger too, Joel wasn’t able to take him out as quickly as the other two.

Juliet started to panic, her hands shook as she positioned her gun and tried to get a clear shot of the guy’s head. They were moving too much, it was impossible.

Juliet moved closer as Joel swung the man around, this was it, this was her chance.

She pulled the trigger.

The man fell backwards, his head smashing off the concrete ground.

Juliet gasped, finally catching her breath after holding it for so long.

Joel stood across from her, his mouth gaped open. His face was a strange colour, almost chalky, verging on pale. He kept his frantic eyes on Juliet as he started to walk towards her. When he took his first step he stumbled, Juliet mindlessly reached a hand out, desperate to stabilise him. But then her gaze slowly dropped downwards…

A knife was lodged in his side.

Joel’s eyes followed hers, instantly spotting the blade impaling his lower torso. He let out a rough breath before he raised his hand and gripped the handle of the knife.

A shot of fear fired through Juliet’s heart. She darted towards Joel, ready to pull his hand back.

“Joel, no!”

She wasn’t quick enough. Joel pulled the knife from his abdomen, leaving behind a fast spreading smudge of dark red on his green flannel.

Juliet caught him before he fell, her hands gripped his broad shoulders, holding him upright. Her face was caught in between his neck and shoulder, his skin was already so hot. Was it supposed to be that hot? Her mind spiralled inwards, trying to remember every medical tip Ethan had taught her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything other than the weight of Joel’s body as she kept him on his feet.

“We have to get out of here,” she groaned into his neck, her voice higher than usual. Panic started to grip her. She didn’t know what to do, where to take him, or how to help him. Juliet strengthened her hold on his shoulders and pushed away from him temporarily, her arms shaking as she turned and positioned his arm to drape over her shoulders as his weight rested on the left side of her body. She nearly screamed as his weight put pressure on her bad shoulder.

Joel’s head rolled off of her, he was gaining consciousness again. Juliet took this opportunity to start moving forward, Joel’s feet stumbling beside her own.

She willed her breathing to slow, she needed some clarity of mind if she was going to get them out of there. If she was going to save Joel.

Joel groaned into Juliet’s ear, his hot breath staining her cheek.

“Leave me,” he coughed out. “Get out of here.”

“Fuck that,” Juliet growled, her voice straining as they struggled across the grass, towards the path back to the road.

Joel coughed again. Juliet had no idea how bad his injury was, she didn’t get a good look at it, just grabbed him and started moving. What if he has internal bleeding? she thought. Juliet had no medical knowledge, she might have listened to Ethan ramble on about his training for hours on end but that didn’t mean she knew the first thing about healing a stab wound.

All Juliet could focus on was getting him off this cursed campus and finding somewhere to hole up, then she would look at his wound and figure out how fucked they really were.

She remembered that house they passed with the porch swing. It wasn’t far, they could make it. Juliet bit her lip, her teeth piercing the delicate skin until she tasted blood. The pain grounded her, dragged her mind away from her anxiety and back to the pressure of Joel’s body against hers.

…………………………………….

Juliet’s legs were about to give out.

With each shaky step, her body threatened to crumple onto the cracked pavement beneath her. Juliet’s legs struggled to support her own weight, let alone the hulking figure of the man draped against the left side of her body, with his arm locked around her neck.

Juliet’s erratic breaths caught at the sight of Joel’s blood.

She tightened her hold on his body, her fingers digging into his side. She urged him, with the press of her torn nails against his flannel, to stay awake, to stay with her.

The house with the porch swing was in her line of sight, they were so close. Juliet couldn’t look behind her but she prayed with everything in her that they had killed all of the men at the University. She had no fight left in her.

When they reached the house, Juliet cursed as she noticed the porch steps. She wanted to stop and catch her breath before she attempted them, but she knew that if she stopped she probably wouldn’t be able to start walking again. Joel must have sensed, with some detached part of his brain, that Juliet was struggling and he managed to strengthen his steps, pulling some of his own weight up the stairs.

When they approached the front door, Juliet was able to offload some of Joel’s weight onto the wall so she could free one of her hands to turn the door handle. Joel’s entire face was coated in a worrying sheen of sweat, his colour still unusually pale. Juliet steeled herself to take his weight again as she dragged him through the front door. There was a living room to their left and they stumbled towards it. With one last push of her strength, Juliet removed Joel’s arm from around her shoulders and positioned his body so it would slowly tip onto the couch in front of them.

That didn’t go to plan.

Joel tripped over his legs and dropped to the ground beside the couch, his head just missing the corner of the coffee table. Juliet gasped, her hands covering her mouth for a brief, stunned moment before she bent down, pushing the coffee table away. She groaned loud as she pulled his upper body up to slip his bag off his back, sitting it beside her own as she contemplated lifting him onto the couch.

That was until her eyes landed on his face and she realised that he had completely passed out, there was no way she could lift him without support. Instead, she bunched up her jacket and slid it under his head, then rocked back on her heels and buried her face in her hands.

She had to think, try to imagine what Ethan would do in this situation.

Juliet removed her hands from her face and watched them tremble as she reached towards Joel’s abdomen. She bent down properly, putting her knees to the floor as she leaned forward and pulled back Joel’s flannel and the grey t-shirt underneath. Her breath hissed through her teeth when she saw the state of his wound.

There was so much blood, the bottom half of his flannel was almost entirely stained red. Juliet instantly pressed her hand on it, finally remembering what Ethan had said about pressure stopping blood flow. It definitely needed stitches, she knew that much.

Juliet looked around her as tears started to blur her vision. Now that she had stopped moving, her mind began to process everything that just happened. She choked on a sob.

She shook her head sharply, not letting her fear take over just yet. She had a job to do, Joel needed her. While keeping one hand firmly latched onto Joel’s wound, she reached behind her to Joel’s backpack, pulling it forward so she could rifle through it. Juliet knew Joel extensive first aid kit in there, he had had got it from Bill and Frank’s and used it on her multiple times over the past few weeks. Now it was Juliet’s turn.

Finally, her fingers felt the corner of it and she dragged it out of his bag. With one hand she rested it on her lap and popped it open. Inside was gauze, plasters, some sort of antiseptic liquid, and a suture kit. Relief flowed through her at the sight. Juliet looked at Joel’s face again, hoping he would stay unconscious while she closed his wound. She squeezed her eyes shut, put more pressure on Joel’s wound, then opened them, blinking away her hesitation and moved to pick up the kit.

………………………………………………….

Twenty minutes later, Juliet sat back against the coffee table and stared at her handiwork. Her fingers had trembled with every stitch but she’d done it. Ethan would have been proud.

Her fingers were stained with Joel’s blood, Juliet couldn’t stand the sight of it. She pulled her water canister from her bag, took a swig, then poured some over her hands, watching as the water and blood mixed together on the wooden floor. The water had cured the dryness in her mouth but she needed something stronger. Juliet dug about in Joel’s bag again, pulling out his whiskey flask.

He had never let her have any, the whole time they had travelled together. She must have asked him at least five times and everytime he would shake his head, end of discussion. Now, though, she needed it.

Juliet welcomed the burn as the liquid slid down her throat, warming her insides. She struggled to take her eyes off Joel, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Juliet took another sip of his whiskey. Surely he would wake up soon, he had to. Juliet refused to imagine a possibility where he didn’t open his eyes.

Juliet felt a hot tear slide down her face. She reached up to wipe it away and remembered when it was Joel’s fingers that grazed her cheek. “Open your eyes, Joel,” she whispered as another tear dripped onto her lap. She didn’t even wipe it away this time.

“Please,” she choked out. “I don’t know how to do this without you.”

Her head hit the coffee table again, her eyes squeezed shut, forcing the tears to pour from the corner of her eyelids. Juliet began to feel the warmth of the whiskey approach the pain in her head, dulling it a little.

She didn’t feel his touch at first, not until Joel’s hand circled her wrist, squeezing her blood stained skin. Juliet’s eyes blinked open, instantly meeting Joel’s weary gaze. His stare was piercing as it slid over her face and down her body, to the flask in her hand.

“Gimme some of that,” he croaked out.

A laugh burst from Juliet, her head spinning with how quick she sat up. She leaned forward over his body, her free hand reaching to cup his cheek, a couple tears dripped from her bloodshot eyes to his sweat soaked forehead. “Joel,” she breathed, smiling down at him.

Joel stared back at her with wide eyes, his gaze wandering over her face, hovering over her lips before he met her eyes again. She watched as he swallowed roughly. Then Juliet remembered his request.

“Here,” she said, circling her hand around the back of his neck to raise his head slightly as she tipped the flask to his cracked lips. Joel didn’t take his eyes off of her as he gulped the amber liquid. When he was done, she gently placed his head back on the makeshift pillow and leaned back just enough to rest her hand against his shoulder. Juliet didn’t know what had come over her, but she found that she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. She had to make sure he was really there.

Joel tipped his head forward to stare down at his wound, which was now covered in gauze. His eyes darted back up to Juliet’s, shock filled his features.

“You stayed,” he said roughly.

Juliet swallowed, letting her head drop in confirmation. “Of course I stayed,” she whispered. “I need you.”

Those three words triggered something in Joel, his fingers still latched around her wrist started to move, painting small circles against her skin. That electricity that always danced between them flickered and sparked with each swipe of his fingers. Juliet’s breath caught in her throat as she registered that dark look in his eyes. It must be the whiskey, making her see things. Because Juliet couldn’t possibly see desire shining in Joel’s eyes, it wasn’t possible. Joel was cold, stoic, heartless, he couldn’t look at someone the way he was looking at Juliet in that moment.

Juliet was definitely hallucinating when Joel’s fingers moved from her wrist up to her wet face as his calloused thumb grazed over the cut on her lip. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he stared at the blood now staining the tip of his finger. His gaze hardened. The danger lurking in his eyes didn’t frighten Juliet, it never did, it only made her want to move closer, to see what else hid behind his heated stare. She felt her body begin to lean forward, her hand slid from Joel’s shoulder to his neck then back up to cup his cheek, the rough hair of his beard pricking her fingers.

Blood started pumping in Juliet’s ears, drowning out her mind which screamed at her to sit back, to stay away from the wounded man on the floor, to run scared from the hunger in his eyes.

Juliet was never good at following orders.

She moved those last few inches towards Joel’s face, neither of them blinked as Juliet’s lips hovered over his. Their breaths mingled together as sparks ran across her vision. Then Joel moved, his eyelashes brushing against Juliet’s as he leaned forward to crash his lips onto hers.

Kissing Joel was brutal, hot, and messy. There was so gentleness, no softness, only the hard press of his lips and the savage way they parted for her. His hand moved to the back of her neck, circling her delicate throat with the press of his fingers, pulling her towards him, suffocating her on his lips. Juliet’s mind was blank, the screaming had stopped. She couldn’t remember the last time her mind had been so quiet. The roaring of her blood in her ears and the grunts rumbling in Joel’s throat were the only sounds that she could hear.

Her whole body burned, it felt as though she had swallowed the entire flask of whiskey. Joel’s lips were a drug she had resisted for so long, now that she had a taste she would never forget the feeling. Joel pulled her closer, squeezing the back of her neck. Juliet ran her hand through his hair in response, her fingers tugged on the dark brown strands. She could feel the hunger that his eyes had promised, it stroked the fire raging within her.

Juliet moaned against his lips and moved to press her chest against his, desperate for any sense of friction. She gasped as Joel let out a groan of pain, pulling his lips off of hers. Juliet threw herself backwards, her head almost smacking against the coffee table as her eyes darted to Joel’s wound. She had forgotten herself, forgotten where they were, forgotten what had happened.

The sound of their harsh breaths echoed in the darkening room. Juliet hesitantly reached her fingers up to graze over her swollen lips as she risked a glance at Joel’s face. His eyes were black. His chest moving up and down in rapid movements as he winced in pain.

“Oh god,” Juliet murmured against her fingers. “I’m sorry, I -” she grasped at an apology, searching for any words which would help explain her actions. Juliet couldn’t even make sense of what had just happened, how could she possibly explain herself to Joel? She forced herself to blink, looking away from Joel’s weighted gaze. Her mind was screaming again, embarrassment flooded her body in a dark red flush.

Juliet gripped the coffee table and stood, swaying slightly as her blood rushed to her head. She had to step away for a moment, find any remnants of her sanity to cling onto.

“I’ll be back in a second,” Juliet explained in a low voice as she moved to the living room door, making a very conscious decision not to look back at Joel. She couldn't bring herself to witness the disgust she was sure now linger in his eyes. Instead, she stared straight ahead as she stumbled out the room.

As she reached the front door, Juliet thought she heard Joel call after her. But she was already gone, stepping out into the chill evening air as the door slammed behind her.

___________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby

#joel miller x original character #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fic #joel miller hbo #joel miller x female oc #ao3 fanfic #tlou #tlou joel #joel the last of us #the last of us #Spotify #pedro pascal

68 notes · View notes

pennyserenade · 10 months

Text

Below the cut is a list compiled of X-Files fanfic that I've enjoyed in the past month or so. Some of these fics (or maybe all of these fics) are ones that are probably well known by this fandom, but they are new to me. The purpose of this list is both to share my recommendations and also to have something to refer back to when my mind gets to wondering about one of them. There's nothing more heartbreaking than losing a good fic you remember vividly. Special thanks to those beyond incredible websites like X-Libris and Gossamer, as well as tumblr users with impressive fic recs such @lilydalexf, @enigmaticxbee, and @randomfoggytiger.

THE X-FILES ORIGINAL SERIES era:

SHORTER STORIES:

The Angle of the Wrist by pqlaertes (1.7k) (explicit):

season four, cancer arc. A heartbreakingly good, soft smut story where a concerned Mulder watches intently over a sick Scully, and loves her in his own ways.

LONGER STORIES:

Inspection by IngridGradient (22k+) (explicit):

set seasons one through seven. Beginning in season one, Mulder and Scully begin to inspect one another’s bodies for ticks after certain field cases. What begins as a rather innocuous exercise gradually forms into something much different than intended. I loved this because it felt very Mulder and Scully in the way it was full of yearning and all the flirting and the loving was done so silently as to be almost deadly to the two of them. Mulder is so sappy and in love in this, too, and I adore it so much. Also it's hot!

*Equilibrium by astronaught (currently at 14k+) (teen):

currently season one through eight. A deep look into the ever-adapting relationship of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully throughout the series, as well as the agents themselves. Begins in season one and offers insightful and moving analysis for each of the seasons. This one is truly literary and absolutely breathtaking. The author is beyond talented, offering insightful and touching analysis of these two brilliant characters in a decidedly brilliant way. I’ve re-read many of these chapters, not only because they are so good, but because I feel there’s always more to find within them. This isn’t finished yet but it is definitely worth checking out.

Overnight Sensation by Syntax6 (50k+) (explicit):

set in season six, between Tithonus and Arcadia. A peeved post One Son/Two Father’s Scully debates her future with The X-Files and Mulder. She ends up taking a case in Boston to try out another life for a size, and Mulder - being Mulder - follows her out there. Chaos ensues when past grudges (and loves) are dredged up, and a killer continues to unleash hell on the city of Boston. This is another good profiler Mulder fic and also a lovely jealousy fic. Mulder was such an ass in season six and some of Scully’s decisions in this feel a little gratifying. I wouldn’t say it was so much explicit in the case of sexual situations, but definitely in terms of the content surrounding the murders. Another to be wary of if you can’t do dark, but very, very good. This author is excellent at case file fics.

All the Way Home by Syntax6 (48k+) (explicit):

set early season seven, a bit after The Sixth Extinction: Amor Fati. Mulder is forced down memory lane when a serial killer he tried to help catch years ago seemingly comes back -- and he wants Mulder’s attention. This one I remember being distinctively creepy. It's definitely what I would consider a case file fic and I highly recommend it (but you ought to know it does get dark and if you feel uncomfortable with say, the contents of Silence of the Lambs, you should be wary of this. If you can get through that then you should be okay, though). I love the way this writer writes Mulder and Scully, and quickly found that I’m quite attached to fics where Mulder is a profiler. It’s a different and captivating side to him and I love, love, love the way the author weaves who Mulder is into how he responds to cases such as these. Mulder is such a nuanced individual and this author always writes he and Scully with such respect and accuracy. I would not be surprised to find out they have also written X-Files episodes in real life.

Eclipse by Diana Battis and Alanna (20k+) (explicit):

set in season seven. Scully asks Mulder to help her conceive children and they spend the next few months fighting that battle together, close as they ever have been. This story is so heartbreakingly tender and I fear my heart won’t ever recover from reading it (especially with that ending).

Parabiosis by Penumbra (50k+) (explicit):

set in season seven. Mulder and Scully’s relationship as it evolves during the era of season seven, with a little bit of Mummy casefile to top it off. This one was a bit hard to wrap my mind around at first, but once I got the hang of the structure, it was smooth sailing from there. The way this author writes Mulder and Scully’s evolving relationship is beautiful--almost so intimate that you feel intrusive just for reading. I couldn’t put it down. Also, I must say this in relation to this fic: Chris Carter, eat your heart out.

X-FILES: I WANT TO BELIEVE era (either pre or during):

SHORTER STORIES:

Phenomenology by h0ldthiscat (3.6k+) (explicit):

Mulder wakes up frightened, afraid something has happened to Scully when he can’t find her in bed, and she comforts him. This is angsty but very good.

Porch Sex by icedteainthebag (1.8k+) (explicit):

I love, love, love a good flirty Mulder/Scully fic. This is definitely that. See also: the addressing of height difference during doggy sex. *chef’s kiss*’

LONGER STORIES:

Gravity by Malibu Sunset (26k+) (explicit):

Follows Mulder and Scully inside their life of exile, with Scully working as nurse and Mulder flying entirely under the radar; that is, until the events of the movie take place and he’s able to have a life outside of the unremarkable house again. I love this one for a lot of reasons -- the domesticity of Mulder and Scully, in which we get so little of in the original and revival series; the talk of William, of what they lost, and what they continue to lose; and the soft, comforting vignettes in between it all. I’m also particularly fond of the descriptive but accurate sex. It’s not always perfect (an aging Mulder has to wait until he can get another erection; they have drunk, imperfect sex while the lasagna cooks; Scully doesn’t cum each time; and Scully - yes even Scully - gets UTIs).

THE X-FILES REBOOT era:

knock three times by wtfmulder (1k) (explicit):

season eleven, plus one. Scully initiates sex with Mulder in the connected motel rooms. I have a special place in my heart for smut with an older Mulder and Scully. This is short and sweet and absolutely perfect.

THE X-FILES aus:

LONGER STORIES:

You He Did Not Fail by extraordinarily_ordinary (85k) (explicit):

seasons one-five, deriving from the plot a little after Scully goes into remission. Scully has left Mulder and the X-Files behind without an explanation, taking a reassignment in L.A. Needing an expert profiler to help her with a difficult case, Scully asks Skinner for one from Washington D.C. Mulder ends up being the one she gets, and he comes with lots of questions about her departure, along with the heavy weight of their shared past together. Scully is made to make some difficult decisions while she and Mulder make headway in the case. This fic was so good I devoured it in a single day. This derives from the plot in a way that I found equal parts realistic and painful, and I love the Mulder we get in this. He feels like Duchovny’s own deeply sorrowful man, who just can’t seem to catch a break no matter how he tries. Oh, and he’s deeply and pitifully in love with Scully. Scully too feels so well fleshed out here. This is an incredible, and perhaps more realistic, take on a plot I’ve always regarded with some questions in The X-Files, and it gives Scully back some agency that she deserves.

#fox mulder #dana scully #the x-files #x files #the x files #x-files fic rec.#fic rec.#also: if any of you have fics you'd like to recommend i'm ALL ears

118 notes · View notes

bluelove24 · 2 years

Text

Hotel Date Night… for 3: Henry Cavill x Male Reader x Chris Evans.

This story was requested by my good friend, @sluttyhusband, and it is pure fiction. It’s not meant to be taken seriously or literally. This is a continuation of my Henry Cavill story, some time has passed.

Warnings/tags: rough sex, condomless sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, armpit kink?, talk of male pregnancy, cross dressing, lingerie, body worship, aftercare is implied.

The thing about being in a secret relationship with a famous person is the fact that you can’t be together all the time. Some times he’s in a different time zone, or continent, other times he’s in the same city. Over the years Henry and I have come to an understanding, we’re both men, we have needs and as much as we love each other sometimes we can’t be there for the other. We have rules and understandings when we do “step out”. For example, we’re not allowed to be with someone when we are in the same city together, we don’t bring anyone home or our bed and most importantly we always let each other know before and after. Communication is key. Why am I saying all this, well recently we haven’t been able to see each other in months. Why? Well Henry is filming and I was in Boston for work. While we managed to talk almost every day it was still hard being away from the one that holds your heart. I love Henry, I always will but like I said we have urges. So while I was in Boston I decided to meet up with a “friend”. Being Henry’s “best friend” to the public has its benefits, I’ve met a lot of other famous people. One of them was the former Captain America actor, Chris Evans. As much I liked hanging out with him, he’s a major pain in pain, in more ways than one. Chris and I met a few years ago on a random event, Henry introduced us and we kinda hit it off. He managed to get my number from someone and we started talking soon after. Soon after that he started to be tried being more than fiends and well let’s just say it worked, we saw each other once at another event and we spent the night together. It became something regular for us to meet up and have sex.

Now back to the present. I was walking down the hallway of a random hotel in Boston, counting the numbers on the door. I was meeting Evans tonight, we haven’t seen each other in my time here in Boston and I could tell he was getting desperate. The best way I could describe him is that his behavior is that of a toddler who didn’t get his way. I arrived at the correct number and read the text again.

“When you get to the door, knock 3 times, put the blindfold on and walk in. I’ll be there to receive you. -C.”💭

I did what the text said and put the blindfold on. Darkness covering my senses. The door opened and I felt a hand grab mine and pull me inside, rather harshly. He guided me deeper inside the room. I could feel him standing in front of me, I could smell him, I took a deeper breath. He smells familiar.

“You like that? I just came back from the gym.” I can hear the smirk on his voice. Cocky bastard. “Go on, smell some more”. He is standing in front of me. I raise my arms and touch his torso, feeling the damp tight shirt. I get closer and take a small sniff to try and satisfy him. Not satisfied with it he roughly pushes my head into his armpit, forcing me to take in his scent deeply. I try to get away but he’s holding me roughly against him. I don’t have any other choice than to breath him in. “That’s it, that’s a good boy”.

I don’t know how long I’ve been stuck to his pit but his hold on my head isn’t letting up. After a while he lets up and pushes me away. “Take your coat off and you better be wearing them”. I start to get undressed, revealing the lingerie set I was wearing underneath. It was black lace, with some garters to match. “Good good, so you’re capable of following my orders”. He’s slowly moving my around me, inspecting my outfit, or lack of it. He slaps my butt, making me jump. “Get on the bed, face down, ass up”. I do as he says and lay down on the bed. I can hear him start to undress and get closer to me. Immediately I can feel his breath in my exposed ass. He suddenly slapped my ass really hard, it feels like it’s on fire. He slapped it a few times more, then he started to eat me out. His beard is tickling me, the sensation from the slaps, his tongue, and his beard is too much for me. A moan escapes from my mouth. He continues to eat me for a few minutes, I can feel his saliva running down my taint to the crotch of my lingerie, soaking them. After what feels like hours but I’m pretty sure it’s only 20 minutes later he stops. “Look at that, such a pretty hole, it’s calling me”. He gave my ass one last slap, getting up from the bed, I can hear him moving around the room. He opens a door, presumably to the bathroom, and returns to the bed. “Are you ready?” He asks, that same teasing tone present. I can hear the lube squirting and him applying it. “Here it goes.”

He presses his cockhead to my hole. Applying pressure until the head pops in. I moan out loud finally feeling him inside me. He doesn’t give me a chance to get used to him since he quickly rams his entire length in to me. I groan from the pain and slight pressure. He lets out a deep moan. “Fuck baby, I’ve missed this”. He starts moving back and forth. Picking up speed until he’s ramming into me, deep and hard. “Are you enjoying this? Yeah you are. Look at you, dropping everywhere.” Chris keeps going. I don’t even feel like he’s talking to me. Suddenly he grabs the strap of the top I’m wearing pulling me up. My back makes contact with his hard torso, I can feel his sweaty chest hair, his furry abs, his wild bush of pubes. His right hand snakes around my torso feeling my belly. “I’m going to deposit my cum so deep inside you that you’re going to be carrying my babies”. His hand squeezes my belly. “Right here, I’m going to put my babies right here”. His left hand moves to my neck, slightly squeezing. He starts to kiss, lick, and suck my neck, probably marking my neck. He’s going slowly now, allowing me to feel him. “You should see this baby, we look so hot”. He whispers in my ear. We keep going in this position for a few more minutes.

His left hand starts to remove the blindfold. My eyes adjust mmm are still closed from the immense pleasure I’m feeling. I slowly open my eyes, looking our reflection in the window. I can see why he said it. We do look good. My head resting on his right shoulder. My arms pulling him deeper. His arms encircling my body pulling me closer. In the reflection we look as one. I keep looking our reflection as he keeps slowly moving in and out of me. I’m so lost in the pleasure but then I see it. I’m not sure if I’m seeing right but there’s another pair of eyes that look at me in the reflection. They stare deeply at me, intensely, with so many emotions. That can’t be right. I blink and they’re gone, I search for them again. Chris keeps going, not stopping for one moment, I don’t think he saw the eyes. There they are again they moved, they’re not in the corner now they seem to have moved closer now. I know those eyes anywhere. But how are they here?

“Are you ready?” Chris says. But he’s not talking to me. Chris tightens his hold on me. From his reflection I can see he’s not looking at me, he’s talking to the eyes. No it can’t be… I slowly raise my head from Evans shoulder and look left. My eyes wide I let out a gasp. Standing there in nothing but a black pair of briefs is Henry. This can’t be real.

“Hello my love”. That deep accent. I try to move toward him, trying to break free of Chris’s hold.

“Oh no you don’t, I’m not done yet. He can have you after I’m done”.

Henry moves closer to me, giving me a deep kiss. “Ease up man”. Henry pulls me towards him, bringing me in to his arms. He’s sweaty as well. “Don’t worry, enjoy yourself, we’ll talk later. Now Evans, make my baby feel good”. Chris starts moving again. Henry gets in the bed, resting against the head board. He pulls me towards him. I’m on all four, with Chris behind me still fucking me and with Henry in front of me looking at me with so much love. “Suck”. I look at his bulge, he’s hard, I start sniffing him through his underwear. Licking and sucking him. His familiar smell fills me to my core. I release him from his underwear. His hardness coming out from inside its trap. That familiar dick, in front of me again. I put the waistband of the underwear under his big balls. I start to give some licks to his dick. I peel the foreskin back revealing the head of his dick already covered with precum. I give it a few licks tasting that familiar taste. I’ve missed it, I’ve missed him. “Ok baby enough teasing, take me in”. His voice deeper with lust. I take him deeper in my mouth, almost all the way down my throat. I keep going until my nose is buried in his pubes. Behind me Evans is pounding my ass. I feel so full on both ends.

Henry grabs my head and starts moving it back and forth. Using me as his own fleshjack. I gag on his length, my lungs burning from the lack of air. He pulls back far enough where I can get some air in my lungs but I still have his dick in my mouth. This keeps going for 15 more minutes. Both of them using me for their own pleasure. My dick has not gone down at all. My lingerie wet from my own precum. Chris stops moving. “On your back”. Henry moves to the side, moving me to my back. Chris reinserts his dick inside me, Henry is now sitting to my left moving my head toward his dick. I keep sucking him as Chris keeps fucking me. Evans moves towards me, moving my head so that I’m no longer sucking Henry anymore and starts kissing me. His body covering me, my legs around his waist pull him deeper inside. We kiss passionately, forgetting that Henry is standing next to us. Maybe that’s what Evans wanted to accomplish, to have my attention completely on him. Henry didn’t liked that so he break our kiss and puts his dick in my mouth again. Henry grabs Evans head and moves him closer to mine. We kiss again but this time Henry’s dick head is between our mouths. Henry moans loudly feeling two tongues around his dick head. Chris then surprises us by taking Henry’s dick inside his mouth and sucking on the head, I start to lick the rest of the dick and jerking him off. Henry let’s out a deep groan. “Fuck man your mouth feels good”. Says Henry. Evans pulls his dick from his mouth.

“Fuck you”.

“In your dreams”.

Henry moved my head to his dick, I took him down my throat. He started to move. “Make me cum”. He said to me. Chris started to move quickly, picking up speed. Henry seeing this started to move faster as well. Both competing with the other. I could feel myself getting closer to cumming. Henry sensed this and started to handle my left nipple. Evans not to be outdone started to suck on my right nipple. I could feel the tingling in the tips of my toes. Henry moved lower. “Go on baby, cum for us”. After hearing that I exploded in my lingerie. Starting a chain reaction. Evans feeling me tighten around his dick, started to cum deep inside me. Henry seeing the both of us cum, started to shoot his load deep down my throat. The 3 of us all coming down from the pleasure. Henry lay down next to me. Evans pulled from inside me and lay down on my other side. We were all trying to catch our breath. Henry started to kiss my lips. Chris started to rub my belly. “You did so good my love”. Henry said.

“I’m proud of you babe, can’t believe we pulled it off”. Said Evans.

Being here, between both of them feels incredible, I feel so secure, and safe.

Authors Note: if you liked it, please give a like, a reblog, leave a comment. My inbox is also open if you want to say hello. Don’t leave anything negative. Thank you for reading.

637 notes · View notes

runwayrunway · 9 months

Text

No. 45 - BermudAir

Sometimes, when I'm especially bored at work, I find myself idly checking to see if there are any interesting planes at Logan Airport. It's common to see an MD-11 or A380, but every once in a while we get Blueprint, for example, or Vatnajökull or Hekla Aurora, or the Blackpink plane, and I always have my fingers crossed one day Xáat Kwáani will be there.

Today, the 23rd of August, I opened FlightRadar24 and was startled to see we were graced with the presence of a British Midland Embraer E175.

What is an airline which hasn't existed since 2012 doing operating a flight to an airport it never served using a type it never flew? Well, disappointingly, they aren't.

As far as consolation prizes go, though, I'm perfectly happy with a brand new airline to discuss.

So I'm reasonably sure what happened here is that BermudAir is using British Midland's old ICAO designator, BMA, and FlightRadar hasn't updated its data to match yet. They do this. I regularly get a kick out of the fact that their map insists Cape Air's Tecnam P2012s are jets.

Regardless, it was a good way to grab my attention! When I say BermudAir is new I do mean brand new - as in, they haven't flown a single revenue flight yet. Their plan is to begin service to Boston Logan and Westchester County Airport (located just north of New York City) on the 31st of August and Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood on the 15th of September, connecting all three destinations with Bermuda's L.F. Wade International Airport.

So let's take a look at this girl, temporarily local to me! This is VQ-BLU, but you can call her Topsey, which is an adorable name. She's an eleven-year-old Embraer E175, formerly of Flybe. And wow, is she tropical. Fort Lauderdale is one thing, but just imagine this plane parked in Boston in the middle of a blizzard. Oh, no...it'd just be her bright little tail poking out in a sheet of white...

If you look closer you can see that the interior of the winglet is a very washed out blue with the BermudAir logo on it.

She's vibrant! She's tropical! I love this design, obviously. It would be difficult not to. It's just...visually pleasing, right? It's bright and pink and colourful and gorgeous. While I initially thought this design was sort of familiar I think it might just be a very popular style, because if it's actually taken from a specific preexisting piece rather than commissioned for BermudAir it's certainly not one I could identify. Anyway, it looks nice.

...wish they'd painted the rest of the plane, though.

So this is VQ-BLW, Willy to her friends. If the names Topsey and Willy have any particular origin, it's not one I'm aware of, but as always I prefer named airplanes to unnamed ones. Willy is also eleven years old and a Flybe veteran, and is currently parked at Muskoka, presumably waiting to be ferried to her new home.

One thing I do quite like is the degree to which the design changes depending on the lighting. This sort of fuchsia is great for that. It looks pastel in the light and luminescent in the shadow, but never looks washed out or dusty. The composition of the blues and pink is absolutely beautiful.

For a minute there I thought the engines had some sort of pink design which made me think of a flower for some reason, but upon closer inspection it appears to just be an engine cover lashed on with ropes of a similar dusty pink colour. This is a shame. More airlines need to do creative things with their nacelles. Even if they're subtle, it can make a huge difference when you consider it's one of the most foreground things period when seeing the plane from the side.

That's a shame. Oh, well.

As for the primarily white portion of the body, it could be worse. They've chosen a tolerable sans serif, and they've made it dark grey rather than black to avoid it looking too harsh and out-of-place. I also like the location beneath the window-line, something more typical of turboprops which I think adds a nice bit of variety when done in large text on a jet like this. The stylized A in the logo and Topsey's name are both rendered in cyan, keeping some of that tropical energy throughout the airframe. That said, while the text is quite legible (the generous but not excessive space between letters and the size it's printed in are both excellent) I really wish the cyan-on-white was a bit easier to read.

While somehow the abstract nature of the tail design combined with the massive wordmark at the front prevents the plane from feeling lopsided as many similar layouts do, I still think this could be improved. Beyond the simple fact that it's boring, I distinctly dislike the very luxury-hotel feeling of combined tropical colors and sterile white. That sort of thing has always given me the ick, and also just feels unsure of what it wants to be. Are you having fun or are you going to perform a surgery? Are we a bunch of businessmen in suits having their meeting inside of a hot tub drinking Mai Tais or are we a group of seven to ten college-aged girls with modest Instagram followings playing beach volleyball in a conference room? You can't be both.

But, I mean...in terms of vacation branding, this is about as standard as you get. This is every big resort on St. John's and every luxury cruise to the extremely teal oceans of some archipelago somewhere. So despite my personal distaste for the style in general I have to admit this is a well done instance of it. That art on the tail really is nice, it really just is. I wish I knew who the artist was, because they know their way around a color palette.

So how do we...well, I don't want to say fix this, because I do think it gets the job done. I think I need to reframe my phrasing for this and future reviews: how do we make this an A? And I don't know. There's the obvious, extending the design to the whole plane, but I don't even think you need to go that far. A bit of light colored remnant trailing off into the rest of the plane, maybe a shift for the fuselage itself from pure white to a dusty pink or cyan...or, if you commit to the idea of the beach, both, for a sunset over an ocean. Add something to the engines, you might have something!

But this livery is already kind of admittedly more than adequate. I feel like people who are more receptive to this...vibe than I am would really rate this. And that isn't not a factor in my decisions. I don't just base these off aesthetics, or my rating for Saudia wouldn't be what it is. There's a degree of...trying, here, and a degree of succeeding, even. I do think it's well designed even though it reminds me of the little bottles of shampoo you get at hotels.

So, um...B-, I think. That's what I'm going with for the moment - could someone please "accidentally" get some grapefruit juice on the front fuselage, though? Just as a favor to me.

youtube

Okay, wow, Runway Runway. Nice post, but uh...is this really what took you so long to finish? And don't you normally give some background on the airline you're talking about? Is this some sort of joke?

Well...no. I wanted to put the review in the start of the post for a couple of reasons, but I'd appreciate if you continue reading for some background on BermudAir. There's a lot about the airline that requires some pretty extensive context, and I think it would be actively irresponsible not to talk about. The rest of this post is going to be long, but that's for a good reason, so please bear with me.

BermudAir is actually a milestone - Bermuda's first airline, apparently. I was startled to learn this, and it made me pretty excited. Bermuda is a British Overseas Territory - this is to say, a colony of the English Empire which even in the modern day has not gained its independence and retains the King of England as its head of state despite being self-governed in every practical sense of the term. It would be fantastic to see Bermuda establish its own flag carrier, to have more of its own infrastructure, and just broadly more to call its own that isn't imposed by the British Empire.

And that's when this stopped really being a normal Runway Runway post.

I was surprised to learn that BermudAir is the first airline in Bermuda's history. It turns out that's because it isn't true - though it might appear that way until you roll up your sleeves and root around in the compost bin of publicly available records. While Bermuda's Bermuda Civil Aviation Authority (BCAA) has issued Air Operator Certificates (AOC) multiple times in the past, most were for startups that fell through. People have been trying and failing now for literal decades to make an airline stick. But while no scheduled passenger airlines have gotten off the ground, BermudAir is not the literal first airline in Bermuda. Leisure and charter airline Freedom II appears to mostly fly to Anguilla and is headquartered in Florida but is registered in Bermuda, and supposedly an airline called Brisair also operated from Bermuda but Planespotters.net says it's Swiss and all photos seem to be from Finland, and they don't appear to so much as have a website, so...I'm not sure. I don't even know if Brisair is still in operation. There's also charter and cargo airline Longtail Aviation, which made the news in 2021 when one of its planes disgorged a few assorted engine gubbins while flying over the Netherlands.

This is at least two and potentially three things operating in Bermuda which I would definitely describe as airlines, so BermudAir is not the first Bermudian airline! They appear to be the first Bermuda-founded airline to operate scheduled service to Bermuda, and will be the only one to operate year-round service from the island, but that isn't the same thing as being the first Bermudian airline. You can't just say things that aren't true! And even the government seems to be repeating this.

"We are very happy to welcome BermudAir as Bermuda's first carrier, as they work toward setting a new standard for travel," Bermuda's Minister of Transport Wayne Furbert said in a statement celebrating the carrier's launch. "This partnership represents an exciting milestone for our island, as it enhances connectivity and strengthens our position as a premier destination. With BermudAir's commitment to providing convenient connections, we anticipate a significant boost to our tourism market."

And this just feels wrong. The Bermudian government's enthusiasm about this project doesn't actually fill me with very much optimism given the context in which they're saying this and in which BermudAir exists.

All of what I'm going to say right now is incredibly oversimplified and I don't have the necessary background to not oversimplify it, so keep in mind these are very broad statements and that for a better picture you would need to seek out Bermudian writers. But even my simple version is pretty long, and a little bit technical. All of my sources are going to be at the bottom of this post and I'm sure there's a lot I've overlooked, so if you have anything to add or correct please do so. This said, BermudAir is not for Bermudians.

The flag of Bermuda. Pay close attention to the best coat of arms I have ever seen in my life. Can you imagine how good this would look without the Union Jack cluttering it up?

Bermuda is a very 'prosperous' place, a statement which is deeply misleading. It has a colossal GDP, driven not by any domestic industry but from its status as one of the world's best-reviewed tax havens. Indeed, tariffs imposed by the US have essentially meant that agricultural exports are a nonstarter as an economic pursuit and their wealth comes instead from tourism and thousands of foreign businesses with no real connection to Bermuda flocking there to take advantage of the almost nonexistent taxes.[10]

At various points anywhere between 20 and 30 percent of those residing in the country have not held Bermudian status. This is a term that should be clarified upfront. Bermudians, and anyone born in Bermuda, are British nationals but do not have British citizenship. They instead have 'British Overseas Territories Citizenship', which does not confer the rights associated with actual citizenship, such as that of work or abode. Many Bermudians accordingly do not consider themselves to be British.[17]

However, there exists a local 'citizenship' called Bermudian Status. Bermudian Status is given to those with at least one parent who holds Bermudian status, or by formal government award. It is not given to those born on Bermudian soil, cannot be bought, and is very difficult to obtain if not born into. I have literally never seen such stringent requirements for a citizenship in my life, and this does actually have meaningful consequences. Rights such as those to work, own businesses, obtain scholarships, and vote are restricted to those with Bermudian status. They also cannot purchase property - with one exception.[17]

All of the above sounds pretty horrible, and I'm sure it sometimes is, but it needs to be taken in the context it exists in. Bermuda is an incredibly popular tax haven for the ultrawealthy[10] and accordingly flocked to by nationals of other countries. Although Archibald[17] makes it out as if there is some sort of epidemic of arbitrarily disenfranchised Bermudian-born individuals this doesn't actually seem to be true, as 97% of those born on Bermudian soil actually do hold Bermudian status, as do 31% of those born elsewhere.[18] It may be difficult to obtain, and that may well be a problem, but this does not appear to be an epidemic of people disenfranchised from birth, which does exist elsewhere. For instance, former USSR citizens in Latvia and Estonia were not granted citizenship and many remain functionally stateless, and residents of American Samoa are considered US nationals but not citizens. This makes them, among other things, ineligible for any government benefits for disability or medical care.

These people without Bermudian status aren't just stateless, though. They hold the same British Overseas Territories Citizenship as Bermudians, and may well hold others - for instance, those born on US military bases are US birthright citizens. The majority of these non-Bermudians are foreign-born and thus presumably hold a different citizenship. And citizenships can be something pretty lopsided. A US, UK, or EU passport holds an absolutely outsized amount of power and convenience when it comes to free travel and may entitle you to myriad benefits from said governments. I know a lot of people with dual citizenships who have no love whatsoever for the US or UK but keep their passports because life without one is measurably harder. And think of it this way: a non-Bermudian living in Bermuda is less like someone born in American Samoa, who has no nationality other than the US but cannot vote or derive government benefits, and a little bit more like a permanent resident, who can't vote, a system had by just about every country.

And there's probably a reason Bermuda is so stingy about Bermudian status. I'll be honest, it's pretty telling that unlike many other jurisdictions Bermuda doesn't allow one to pay their way into citizenship. I'm sure some people want that to be the case, given the demographics of non-Bermudians in Bermuda, but the distinction between people actually from Bermuda and those who are just using it for a tax break is actually meaningful. I'm sure there are people genuinely harmed by this law, but there's one more thing I need to point out: non-Bermudians are allowed to own land. The only restriction is that they're limited to the most expensive 5% of it. This sends a pretty clear message about who non-Bermudians are.

Since agriculture is mostly a non-starter and so much of the country is foreigners, aside from tax breaks and registering yachts Bermuda's main industry, particularly for employment of locals, is tourism. The need to satisfy tourists makes everything else frequently secondary to avoid upsetting the fulcrum of the economy and can impede efforts of worker's unions. What taxes do exist are placed on workers and end consumers rather than those who own businesses and property. The majority of taxes come from customs, and though payroll is taxed personal income is not, meaning that all income tax is paid off of wage labor and none off of personal accumulated capital. Land tax does exist, but makes up the smallest portion of tax income.[4] The cost of living is commensurate with the GDP and benefits for the elderly and disabled are notably lacking[13]; most disabled and elderly residents are Black[11].

As with many places with a similar history under colonial rule, Bermuda has an extensive history of violent racial oppression and the effects are still clearly seen today. According to the most recent data I could find, admittedly from 2012, though Black Bermudians make up the majority of the population their average income is 22% lower than that of White Bermudians and their median income 30% lower[1]. While I don't have the data on hand, just the analysis the government itself published, my assumption would be that this means that, though the wealthiest Black Bermudians still make less than the wealthiest white Bermudians, they are still significantly pushing up the average, and a heavily disproportionate number of Black Bermudians make up the ranks of the absolute most impoverished Bermudians.

Most tellingly, from my own perspective, non-Bermudians have a 20% higher median income than Bermudians of any race, and this is increasing at a higher rate than that of Bermudians as well. In the past decade the greatest increase has been seen by non-Bermudian women, and the least by Bermudian men, suggesting that the gender gap is slowly closing while the nationality gap is widening[1]. The Tax Justice Network's 2018 report notes that the Bermudian government has 'conspicuously' never produced a study of income inequality and does not provide equivalized numbers, which makes it difficult to properly derive true numbers and compare to other countries. Still, here is what they found:

While while wages did rise between 2008 and 2016, the highest-earning only just kept up with inflation while those earning lower wages have, in real terms, had their earnings fall by 5%. Although clerical jobs are low-paying compared to the (very inflated) average, they're doing fantastic compared to the 32% drop seen by workers in Agriculture & Fisheries.[4] While in countries like the United States these jobs are primarily sloughed off to migrants with little to no recourse against poor treatment and pitiful wages, in Bermuda these jobs are presumably similar in implementation but half of them are worked by native Bermudans.[4] Black Bermudians are the majority of the workforce, yet 65% of those in managerial and professional occupations are white.[11] This means that most of the people having their wages functionally decrease were Black, further exacerbating the racial wealth gap.

When comparing average to median income Bermuda has some of the highest income inequality in the entire world, comparable to that of the United States and worse than that of London.[4] That is unbelievably dire, especially given how often Bermuda is represented as some sort of poverty-free paradise when attempting to galvanise tourism among the US's upper classes.

As for independence, a referendum was actually held in 1995, and the prospect was defeated by 74%, with a worryingly low voter turnout of 59%. While this clears the required bar of 40% of eligible voters opposing independence, it is still not an inspiring number. Apparently this is fairly normal, with only 60% of eligible voters registered[13] and reliably low turnout[10] suggesting this is the norm rather than the exception. This becomes all the grimmer when a Cabinet Minister "[...] compare[s] the Country to a business that had prospered under Bermudian management". Additionally, said Minister "had detected 'a shift in attitude' against blacks in the UBP. Caucus members who she would not name felt 'too many concessions were being made for black people,' and Government was doing too much to level the playing field.'"[2] Bermuda has for most of its history been ruled by a conservative party which remained in power despite being supported primarily by the white minority, and has had consistently low voter turnout[11]. Their Governor is still appointed by the English Crown, and in 2020 Bermuda was generously granted its first ever Black Governor! She is not, however, a Black Bermudian, and in fact many in the government expressed displeasure at the fact that Bermuda is still not independent, calling for at least a Deputy Governor who is actually from Bermuda, and mentioning that they had been asking for a Black Governor for a majority Black society twenty entire years ago![12]

Now pair that with the knowledge that the Governor appoints the Premier and Senate as well and that these positions are held until the Crown decides otherwise and that racial wealth disparity begins to make more sense. Legal power is concentrated in the same hands it has since its inception as a British Territory, that of wealthy white Britons. It didn't surprise me to learn where the opposition to independence came from. "The powerful families who control much of the island's commerce wish the issue of independence would simply go away," wrote Aline Sullivan for the International Herald Tribune in the leadup to the referendum. From the same article: "One private trust manager, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said that if Bermuda became independent, the financial community would 'have to rethink everything. Unless we are careful, we may start losing business' to the Cayman Islands and elsewhere, the manager said. 'People may not think of us if we can no longer market Bermuda as a British colony.'"[3] It seems blatant, reading over this, that while there was a genuine push for independence by the primarily Black permanent population, the question for the actual government was always one of optics and how best to cater to the financial giants using Bermuda as a tool.

The takeaway from this is that Bermuda's wealth is not generated via authentic economic prosperity but by offshore banking conducted by already-wealthy individuals born elsewhere exploiting the country's permissive tax laws, while those who are truly Bermudian have essentially no choice but to lean heavily on tourism as a source of income. Bermuda is not unique in this sense, but it surprised me they'd never so much as had a national airline. That's right, this is a blog about airlines. As best I can tell, this is because it's a particularly popular destination for yachts, and presumably nobody in a position to start an airline ever wondered about whether things should be made a little easier for the yachtless underclasses. When I heard this was going to be the first airline founded in Bermuda, I foolishly assumed that it would be an attempt at a flag carrier to make travel to and from Bermuda broadly more accessible.

Oh, and as for the concerning lack of figures - Bermuda appears to be ridiculously understudied. Although plenty has been written on the wildlife and ecology, and in some specific fields like midwifery, I had a very hard time finding detailed studies of the population and for each useful thing I found I also got around seven articles about marine invertebrates and occasionally something like this.

So if people have done analyses of the publicly available census data, or research of their own, most of it is in places where my student-going-into-archival-science's ability to use databases and my university's JSTOR credentials can't reach. And, well, that's bad. It's pretty bad that aside from the sources I'm using the only thing I could find was one study conducted on seniors' ability to access healthcare. It's not great, by the way.

But that is literally not even why I'm meant to be here.

Okay, enough of the politics! Time for some business speculation! As an undergraduate history student I have even less authority to speak on this than I do on the history of Bermudian wealth inequality, so take this with an even larger grain of salt, but I'm going to spend a moment to discuss the most noteworthy thing about BermudAir - its business model.

BermudAir is a boutique airline which will operate nonstop flights to three destinations on the US East Coast from Bermuda year-round.

This is already a weird concept. To begin with, this isn't a service anyone is in dire need of. Although the only one of their three destinations which currently has a direct flight to Bermuda is Logan (operated daily by a jetBlue A220), flights from the East Coast are not lacking. Delta, United, JetBlue, and American Airlines all fly to Bermuda, and the fact that Westchester doesn't currently have one isn't strange given it's mostly a regional airport and the nearby JFK absolutely does have direct flights to Bermuda. This makes me think they may well be frozen out of business for half of the year. Sure, their passengers won't have to deal with seeing poor people at the airport, but they also won't be able to use their SkyMiles.

This service will be non-stop and year-round. Right now tickets are $199 or so, but when they get their planned cabins installed in November prices will immediately jump to quadruple digits.[6] (...this honestly makes me a little angry. That is an immense difference in price for a service that differs only in initial cost of installation.) This is because the entire airplane will be business-class only. This is actually pretty cheap for business class, apparently. I wouldn't know, I'm not really BermudAir's target audience. The Business Insider article opens with the phrase "Bermuda just got a little more accessible," which is really...a thing that they said in their article.

Business-class-only travel isn't unheard of or anything. Private jet rentals are a thing (for people willing to spend between tens and hundreds of thousands of dollars per hour) and carriers like Qatar Airways and British Airways have had similar models on a limited number of retrofitted planes. There's also La Compagnie, an airline which flies in an all-business-class configuration primarily Orly to Newark. And, I mean, that makes some sense, Paris to Newark is a popular route for business travelers...not sure about Boston to Bermuda.

image: Adam Moreira They're actually one of the airlines I wanted to talk about when I first started this blog. Still might do.

A 'boutique airline' is meant to be the equivalent of a boutique hotel - nice fluffy transport for wealthy business and leisure travelers. This definition gets a bit fuzzy - Asiana Airlines and TAP Air Portugal have both been described this way at least once, and that's definitely not true - but I think BermudAir has helped codify the definition. Though Bangkok Airways self-describes as such, I think airlines like BermudAir and La Compagnie are the true exemplar of the category. A luxury vacation airline that isn't quite renting a private jet or owning a yacht, but is still a luxury airline for luxury. There have been attempts at such before. David Neeleman, known recurring character of this blog, has been involved in two such ventures - Superior Air Charter (formerly JetSuite) and Climb. But those are just affordable jet cards with a Neeleman management style (Neelemanagement?). BermudAir and La Compagnie are fundamentally different. They've just eliminated economy class so they can fit more business class on the plane.

image: BermudAir Pay particular note to the pink mood lighting! Apparently it's meant to evoke the color of the sand on a Bermudian beach.

They refer to it as 'Aisle Class', because everyone gets both a window and an aisle seat (and enough storage space that overhead bins just aren't in the equation, which begs the question of...what if I want to put my things away?). 30 such 'suites' will be installed on each plane on the first of November, but for now passengers can pay a steep discount to fly in a normal cabin where only half the seats are actually sold. I don't know if this is a good business class cabin before, I've never flown business class as I'm not the sort of US national who has a bank account in Bermuda. The pillows have the same design as the airplane's livery, which is nice. An entire paragraph on the website is devoted to describing the luxury meals available to passengers. The real Bermuda experience - clean white walls and a Dark ‘n Stormy, am I right?

image: BermudAir

Hey, um...where are the leg rests? Do those seats even recline? I know this is a mock-up but...are there no seatback screens available? Seriously, what if I want to put my bag somewhere? I know checked bags are free, but I kind of...don't think I would want to do it anyway, because normally it's a waste of time when I can just toss my luggage into a bin large enough I could comfortably ride in it if they were out of seats. Also, are there not...seatbelts? Are passengers going to go flying into the seat in front of them every time the plane lands? Is any of this...even remotely crashworthy? Honestly, is it even comfortable? That's so many hard surfaces and just one little pillow and you can't even move the head-rest. This is worse than the average seat on ferries I've been on.

But enough about the interior! They don't even actually have it yet. What are they doing? In their own words, "BermudAir was created to provide frequent‚ well-timed and comfortable flights for business and premium leisure travellers between Bermuda and the East Coast of the U.S.". So...not much of a flag carrier, is it? That said, the government is pretty jazzed, according to Travel Market Report - it'll be fantastic for tourism, of course![5] Up to 18 weekly flights, and maybe even charters if the FAA allows it[6]. That is a stunningly large output for an airline just starting up with only two planes, and I am honestly afraid.

(And there is a bit of worry in my brain that I have no idea what sorts of regulations airlines with Bermudian AOCs are held to. Ben Schlappig of One Mile At A Time thought maybe the 30-passenger limit was to stay within Part 135 instead of the more restrictive Part 121, but that shouldn't matter as they aren't a US carrier - but what are they, then? Does Bermuda even have the necessary infrastructure to oversee a full-service air carrier with multiple regularly scheduled routes, or are they just going to let BermudAir do whatever it wants? That never ends well at all.)

That said, I'm also not sure it will work in the simplest sense. I'm kind of lost as to how putting less seats on an airplane will create more tourism. Founder Adam Scott claims that somehow their fleet of two E175s makes them equipped to serve the demand for the route, unlike airlines like Delta and American[7], which makes me wonder if he lives on a different planet. Delta and American have the two largest fleets in the entire world, plus regional subsidiaries, and they operate regional jets like the A220 and A319 which are both more efficient than an eleven-year-old E-Jet and filled to capacity. Besides, they have a little advantage called 'the ability to not cancel half their flights if one plane has a mechanical fault'. He also claims using Westchester Airport will save passengers time, and I'm just not too sure about that. Sure, JFK has delays on landing, but at least you don't have to then drive to New York City proper, if that's where you're going (and statistically speaking it probably is).

So how about that founder? His name is Adam Scott, so I will until told otherwise assume he is the same Adam Scott as the actor best known for his role as Jacques in my 7th-favorite Hellraiser movie, "Hellraiser IV: Bloodline" (1996).

If you think of Hellraiser: Bloodline as a Hellraiser film, it's really quite bad. But if you think of it as a Dr. Who special where people have their skin torn and warped in extremely graphic and upsetting ways, it's decent, I suppose. Did you know this was his first ever major role, by the way?

Jokes aside, this Adam Scott is Canadian and a former Goldman Sachs executive. He was among the people who worked on the now-discontinued British Airways business-class-only transatlantic A318 service, and after that ceased operation he became involved with similar startup Odyssey, which planned to replace it. They haven't made a peep since 2018 despite wanting to start service in 2020, but Scott does claim it still exists[7].

Well, I will have things to say about this if it ever launches, considering I now specifically hate this particular man.

Scott describes Bermuda as a 'mini version of London City with very similar demographics and a similar target audience',[7] which sort of made me laugh a little bit, although I'm not sure what emotion was primarily driving said laughter. This feels like a parody of a parody. But they're definitely way closer to being a reality than Odyssey, whether they can make enough money to keep it that way notwithstanding. Their chances are probably better than Global Airlines, at least. But hey, wait a minute...Bermudian airline, Canadian founder...weird, isn't it? I mean, who is this airline for?

image: BermudAir

I know, they said business and leisure travellers, but...isn't that so strange? 'Bermuda' is in the name, but the one year-round service to the US East Coast is going to be inaccessible to most of the people who live there, deliberately carrying as few people as possible!

image: BermudAir

This is actually a reminder that I needed - whenever I find something happening in the US to be cynical and disturbing, there is something out there even worse in a place I'm not supposed to care about. Breeze Airways having first class is pretty philosophically horrifying but at least they do still mostly sell affordable plane tickets. Azul leans quite heavily into its Brazilian branding, but David Neeleman is Brazilian, and their tickets are affordable and their service is accessible. That's just worlds apart from this! I've described flag carriers as being a service provided to a country, but this isn't that, and it's not even a product being sold to a country. This is an airline named BermudAir that Bermudians are just not meant to be involved with. I wonder if this is just something Scott never realized, or if he realized and doesn't care, or if that's actually part of the draw! I wonder the same things about the government, given they seem to have a mindset less suited for a government and more suited for the board of directors of a bank.

And I'm sure they could actually find a bit of a market for direct flights to major cities in the US year-round, when the vacation market's dried up and the only way for someone living in Bermuda to get someplace like New York is to pay way more than the asking price of a BermudAir ticket for long and inconvenient multi-stop flights. But that's so clearly not the point. A lot of those people also probably can't afford BermudAir, and the marketing clearly isn't targeting them.

Here are some posts from their Facebook. Some of the most recent, too. An "idyllic island paradise" where a smiling local Black man will serve you some delicious beverages! How tropical. He might even tell you some anecdotes about how wonderful it is to live in a sunny beach utopia where taxes don't exist. Just take a look at that palm tree! And something that frustrates me even more: just a picture of two Gombeys. The Gombey tradition of dance, costume, music, and performance is unique to Bermuda, and particularly its Black population, originating from the African slaves brought there by British colonists. I find it beyond tasteless to just post a picture of them without so much as a mention of what these costumes represent or who is wearing them, just a caption of boilerplate about your airline's upcoming launch. BermudAir's marketing places these people as literally just part of the scenery. I find this extraordinarily disrespectful.

There's nothing wrong with mentioning Gombey exists - in fact, there are events specifically for it! Gombey festivals! Boxing Day is the biggest day of the year for Gombey, don't you want to book a ticket for December? You could be in Boston eating swallowing mouthfuls of snow every time you try to breathe while a man with a Dunkin Donuts cup in his hand screams rude things at you from his car window, or you could be watching Gombey performances in Bermuda! You could even, for example, describe what these people do, or what troupe they're from, or even just mention them. Just mention them at all. I do find it pretty disrespectful when specific traditions are just waved off with a little vague non-description like 'two individuals on a beach in their traditional costume', but BermudAir didn't even do that little insufficient trifling amount.

It's the complete inverse of BWIA's steelpan logo. Steelpan is a major part of Trinidad and Tobago's history as the birthplace of dozens of musical traditions. Music is a huge part of the cultural history of the country, and part of that music was steelpan. The artisans who make steelpans and musicians who play them are something the people who created BWIA's logo thought was so fundamental to the very idea of their country that they put it on their government-owned national airline, making it the very first thing people who travelled to Trinidad and Tobago on a BWIA flight would see. I didn't end up mentioning it in the post (which is weird, because I have a false memory of including it - I think I may have in an earlier draft but then decided I couldn't fit it in even though in retrospect I obviously could and should have? Or maybe I mentioned it in reply to an ask I now can't find) but when I did my research I kept finding people talking about how much they adored BWIA and reminiscing about everything from watching their planes flying overhead to specific people they worked with, and it was really clear that this airline, beyond just nominally being owned by the government, was created by people who put real love for their country's heritage into their design.

BWIA certainly carried tourists and foreign businessmen but it wasn't made by them. That really, historically, hasn't been how things worked. You wouldn't make an airline in one country with a primary purpose of serving a market in another.

A ribbon-cutting ceremony following BermudAir's AOC being issued, featuring Adam Scott, the guy holding him, and tourism-and-aviation-related government personnel of Bermuda. One of them appears to be wearing a navy suit jacket, black-and-yellow tie, and pink shorts. image: Akil Simmons

Adam Scott describes Bermuda as his 'happy place', where he has 'developed links' for ten years.[14] Even when discussing BermudAir he doesn't describe himself as Bermudian, just 'linked' to it, a vacationer. There are spaces in BermudAir for Bermudians, though, he makes sure to clarify. They can provide "the flavours of Bermuda and the island’s renowned hospitality" to the actual clientele. Minister of Transport Wayne Furbert expresses his enthusiasm at the new jobs brought on by increased tourism[14], as if a year-round way for his actual constituents to get to and from Bermuda is simply...not something he's concerned about.

I think I need to cut myself off here, but the last thing I need to mention is this: a Bernews article was written on BermudAir, and their website allows comments. Here are some things people had to say.

Daniel G DeSilva: Although this is an “elite” air service, with BERMUDA emblazoned on the fuselage, it would be great if the tail design even remotely connected visually with Bermuda.

Paid off government: First of all this airline will be flying to other places. People forget that there are hundreds of Russia aircraft registered here that have never been in or out if Bermuda. This is not a Bermuda airline. Its just conveniently named after Bermuda and registered here. [...] And if you have to ask about the price then this airline is not for you!

(There was also some scattered speculation about it being some sort of front or scheme, which I definitely have no idea about, though I won't pretend it didn't occur to me while attempting to reconcile just how much this airline is definitely not going to make money. Having looked at their various publicly listed employees they all seem fairly credentialed, but...who even knows at this point. Maybe this was all an elaborate proof of concept for Odyssey all along. This is all so cynical it makes me want to scream.)

And that's just the thing, isn't it?

BWIA used beautiful colors vivid colors, never hiding the fact that Trinidad and Tobago are, indeed, very sunny islands with nice beaches, but that wasn't the point of it. It's so easy to make a plane that looks tropical, but BWIA didn't do that - they made a plane which represented Trinidad and Tobago.

And if I'm being fully honest, I like Topsey. I think she's adorable, and I think the design on her tail is pretty. But she wasn't designed by Bermudians and she doesn't represent Bermuda. BermudAir is an airline for the East Coast US, where people are taught in schools that the victims of an empire are colonists, taking a necessary stand against the iniquity of taxes, and the Wampanoag are no longer mentioned once the first Thanksgiving is over. The people who make up Bermuda are treated as structural parts of the tax haven England built, not citizens of a state or members of a culture. "Bermuda's first airline" ends up having very little to do with Bermuda, somehow. And I couldn't really bring myself to talk about Topsey without talking about Bermuda.

Will BermudAir fail? In my opinion, probably. But in the meantime, one of their airplanes is parked at Logan, and that's because this airline is for people from Boston, not people from Bermuda.

Sources:

[1] Government of Bermuda Cabinet Office, Department of Statistics. "Personal and Household Income: A 2010 Census Analytical Brief." www.gov.bm. Bermuda, December 2012. [2] Egan, Paul and Jeremy Deacon. "UBP about to Self-Destruct, Says Gordon." The Royal Gazette, August 8, 1995. [3] Sullivan, Aline. "Will Independence Spoil Bermuda?" nytimes.com. April 8, 1995. [4] Fowler, Naomi and Stubbs, Robert. "Bermuda: Inequality and Poverty in UK Overseas Territory." Tax Justice Network. Bristol, United Kingdom, June 21, 2018. [5] Bonfiglio, Briana. "BermudAir, the First Bermuda-Based Airline, Launches with All-Business Class Seats." Travel Market Report, August 24, 2023. [6] Schlappig, Ben. "Bermudair: New Bermuda-Based All-Business Class Airline Launches Flights." One Mile At A Time, August 24, 2023. [7] Rains, Taylor. "A New All-Business Class Airline Is Launching Flights between the US and Bermuda — See What It’ll Be like Aboard."Business Insider, August 24, 2023. [8] BermudAir Fleet Details and History [9] Bernews. "BermudAir Aircraft Arrives In Bermuda," August 20, 2023 [10] "Bermuda." United States Department of State Bureau of Public Affairs, 1985. [11] "2010 Census of Population & Housing Final Results." Hamilton, Bermuda: Bermuda Department of Statistics. [12] Bell, Jonathan, and Fiona McWhirter. "First Black Woman to Be Appointed Governor." The Royal Gazette, June 14, 2020. [13] Forbes, Keith Archibald. "Bermuda’s Resident Population of 63,779 and Local Expatriate Organizations: Origins of Citizens and Residents, 64% Black, 32% White, 4% Asian and Other." Bermuda Online, 2020. [14] Finighan, Gareth. "BermudAir Spreads Its Wings." The Royal Gazette, July 27, 2023. [15] Jeffries, Bayyinah S. 2022. "Race and Racism in Bermuda" Genealogy 6, no. 4: 89. [16] airlinehistory.co.uk [17] Forbes, Keith Archibald. "Bermuda Citizenship or Status: Deserving long-term foreign tax-paying residents including those with over 25 years residency are denied this." Bermuda Online, 2020. [18] “NATIVITY, MIGRATION AND BERMUDIAN STATUS.” Bermuda: Government of Bermuda, 2000.

#tarmac fashion week #grade: b-#region: north america #era: 2020s #bermudair #long haul #cabin fever #neelemanverse #region: bermuda #bwia

43 notes · View notes

brybryby · 1 year

Note

I completely agree that Miles Upshore is queer, and Waylon is on the spectrum as well! If you have your friends analysis still plzzzzz link! I crave the content!!!

HI HI THANK YOU FOR THE ASK! 💜

I wish I had his analysis still!!! aarrrrgh it's been so long ;-; But I can try to relay some of the points he made (and add some of my own)!

This gets pretty lengthy so be prepared :')

I also added external links but they’re only there if you want to read more about the point I’m making! Feel free to skip them!

also // TW for mentions of SA

Miles

Story-wise, my friend found it interesting that Miles was the perfect host for the Walrider. Wernicke and Alan Turing were friends/lovers who worked on the technology that culminated into Project Walrider, so there's already a sense that the Walrider was founded on Wernicke and Turing's love for each other.

So, before I move on, I'll talk a bit about Alan Turing. In college, I had professors praise him for being the “Founder of Modern Computing”, cracking Nazi code, and also for being an advocate for gay rights.

More details here:

Out of every prominent scientist during the Cold War Era, Alan Turing was selected to play a role in Outlast's stories. And he didn't just happen to be openly gay—JT Petty purposefully made this significant to Wernicke's character. Not to mention, Wernicke made allusions to Frankenstein, allowing us to inspect the parallels between Wernicke & the Walrider with Frankenstein & Frankenstein's monster. When it comes to gothic & queer literature, Frankenstein is on the forefront of it, and I'm confident that JT Petty would be familiar with that (since he's a writer who's well-versed in horror/gothic art).

With Frankenstein, there's this idea to create life without heterosexual means (under the impression of cis-heteronormativity). Frankenstein's monster was also a sexualized creature—supposedly a representation of the “ideal man”—described as “beautiful”. Additionally, the novel was a critique of patriarchal norms through elements of sexualities. These aren't too different from Wernicke & the Walrider. The Walrider is arguably created through homosexual means in its abstract (Wernicke & Turing). This particular version of the Walrider that possesses Billy & Miles is stated to be the “masterpiece” by Simon Peacock—its appearance is also fairly sexual. And similarly, Outlast critiques patriarchal norms through its grotesque visuals of “masculinity”.

Frankenstein queer analysis:

Frankenstein sexual suppression analysis:

With all these story elements, there's certainly a queerness about the Walrider AND Outlast, which the devs openly embrace.

There's also many parallels between Frankenstein's monster and Miles. In the United States (and westernized countries in general), there are societal standards that function around cis-heteronormativity. Think of the traditional American nuclear family: A husband/father who's the breadwinner and patriarch, a loving wife/mother who cooks and stays at home to take care of the kids—they're mostly white, Christian, and American citizens. [WARNING: TRIALS SPOILERS AHEAD] The ideal American man is further illustrated in Officer Coyle's dialogue: “If only they were upstanding citizens like myself. Pay your taxes, do your job, fuck your wife, put a little something in the plate at service. America don't ask much.” Miles is arguably the antithesis of this, which is likely the reason he doesn't have any close friends/family—he was likely rejected by society. Frankenstein's monster follows a similar arc: he is also rejected by society and seeks refuge in seclusion. (The concept of “rejection by society” is inherent in queerness.)

With these parallels, it makes sense for Miles to be the ideal host for the Walrider. Additionally, Miles embodies queerness that isn't strictly homosexual—I mean his whole background/lifestyle is already, by definition, “queer”—but questions regarding his sexuality arise when inspecting other details of his character.

My friend pointed out the whole “Manhandler Hairspray for the Active Man” detail in Miles' apartment. There are a lot of homosexual undertones in the label, and it's hard not to think otherwise. “Manhandler” and “Active” are terms which indicate the “top” role in gay culture. I mean, it's possible that Miles is just embodying the “metrosexual” identity (basically straight men who embody characteristics associated with homosexuality) but metrosexuality is rooted in consumerism, which doesn't exactly align with Miles' character since he is openly critical of capitalism. I think the hairspray hints at queerness (or at least gender non-conformity).

Article on “metrosexuality”:

https://www.nytimes.com/2003/06/22/style/metrosexuals-come-out.html

The most revolutionary detail that my friend pointed out was the fact that Miles went out of his way to roast the ever-living shit out of everyone he came across at Mount Massive, begging the question: why is he so fixated on the appearances of other men? This could stem from his own insecurities of being rejected by society or insecurities of his own vanity (considering the hairspray he uses and the fact that he goes jogging…and if he's just trying to be healthy through exercise then he needs to explain his self-destructive alcoholism…idk…jogging for mental health? It’s open to interpretation…WAIT I mean he could just be keep up his physical fitness also with all the investigating he has to do anyways fjshshkdhd). It was just interesting that Miles was so fixated on physical appearances that it makes me wonder if he'd make similar comments about women—I don't believe he would and I'll explain below.

I know that we need to take Red Barrels' tweets with a grain of salt—they're known for deleting tweets that detail misinformation about the protagonists—but I find this tweet particularly interesting. I may be looking too much into it, especially since it's just a tweet and not presented in the games/comics, but it certainly is reflective of Red Barrels' values of respecting women and not viewing women as sexual objects, along with the notion of dismantling cis-heteropatriarchy/chivalry. It certainly doesn't mean he's not straight, but he doesn't particularly view women as sexual objects either (and I know that straight men are capable of not viewing women as sexual objects). Food for thought.

Some extra stuff:

Anti-conservatism and punk ideology (which Miles explicitly embodies) are pillars of queer culture in the political sphere.

The Germanic folklore, which the Walrider is based off of, exhibits notions of sexuality (though, probably not in the best light).

[TRIALS SPOILER] Wernicke’s dream therapy is associated with Dr. Easterman’s queerness—Easterman would be distracted by Wernicke’s handsomeness (and they both explicitly critique heterosexual relationships). Again, this supports the Walrider’s themes of sexuality.

Waylon

As for WAYLON, even though there isn't concrete evidence in the games to intentionally indicate queerness, that isn't to say he is entirely heterosexual (because assuming he's heterosexual is yet another product of the “ideal American man” image in a cis-heteronormative society, and Outlast's narratives are about dismantling this notion). In fact, now that you bring it up, I agree that Waylon can be considered on the queer spectrum/under the queer umbrella.

Regarding the “dismantling the ideal American man in a cis-heteronormative society” concept…the devs, artists, writer(s), actors, and contributors to the games' development are not only open/accepting of things outside of society's norms/expectations, but many are social activists. Chimwemwe Miller (VA for Chris Walker) is outspoken about being Black, Black history, and racism—he also narrated an audiobook which discussed racism, colonialism, & imperialism. Erika Rosenbaum (VA for Lynn Langermann) organized provisions for refugees and is active in environmental causes and feminism—she also spoke out during the #MeToo movement. Shawn Baichoo (VA for Miles, Waylon, & Blake) is also vocal about feminism/racism and was a huge advocate for his character Wrench's bisexuality from Watch Dogs 2, which became confirmed in a later installment of the Watch Dogs franchise.

I bring this up because Red Barrels actually entertains the idea of Waylon x Eddie (in the hypothetical that Eddie wasn't an antagonist like he was in the game…so like, erasing his problematic features baha…this deserves an analysis of its own) without mentioning sexuality or anything like that. Obviously, this can be seen as a way to entertain the fanbase, but I think it's worth mentioning that Waylon isn't opposed to homosexuality. After all, Waylon never makes homophobic remarks in his notes nor comments on male sexuality—he's just fearful of being assaulted (as anyone would be, regardless of gender/sexuality). He would, in fact, engage in a homosexual relationship according to this hypothetical.

(Note: the term “insane” is a harmful descriptor in this context, which is why I wrote “wasn’t an antagonist like he was in the game”)

So yea! I definitely think there's queerness with Waylon's character. And I don't exactly mean this to be “representation” because there's a lot of responsibility that comes with that, but ultimately I think it adds to what the franchise and the devs are trying to do—normalize queerness and dismantle the notion of the “ideal American man in a cis-heteronormative society” (and if you've studied socioeconomics/social theory, you know that this notion is a product of capitalism, which is another important theme in the franchise).

Here are some resources about the intersectionalities of cis-heteropatriarchy, capitalism, & queerness if you'd like to read more about it :)

(this one below is quite lengthy, but goes VERY DEEP)

All in all, my interpretation is that the franchise operates on the idea that “queerness” is normal or innate, but social structures are what label it otherwise. I've seen a lot of discussion surrounding Outlast characters' queerness, and it's interesting to me that the antagonists' sexualities get more attention amongst casual players than the protagonists' sexualities (and I think I can understand why, it's just a lot to unpack).

Just as many of the antagonists can be read as queer, the protagonists should arguably be read through the same lens. I truly do think Miles and Waylon (and even Lynn and Blake!) deserve to be inspected under queer lens. Doing so aligns with the franchise's philosophy/narratives. Also the idea of “queer characters taking down capitalism” is super empowering (and actually very identifiable hehe).

(Sorry, I think I projected a lot of my own personal values and biases into this post LOL hhhjdsfh feel free to critique anything I've written!)

This is my first time inspecting Waylon through a queer lens, so thank you for the ask!! I had a lot of fun writing this up :D

#miles upshur #waylon park #outlast #outlast analysis #queer analysis #brybryby #brybryby text

63 notes · View notes

blurscolours · 1 year

Text

The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea | Prologue

Masterlist

Summary: An attack on Arthur’s imprisoned brother Orm leaves him with no choice but to rely upon you, a friend made due to unfortunate circumstances nearly a decade ago, to provide safe haven while he restores peace to Atlantis. Suddenly tasked with sheltering a sullen former king results in a very different summer vacation than you had originally envisioned, but changes both of your lives forever.

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Car Breakdown

Word Count: 1503

Amnesty Bay, Maine – Summer 2012

You had been looking forward to this road trip all spring. Time to yourself, to celebrate the start of summer, off exploring the East Coast. You had planned on starting in Maine and working your way south along the coast to Boston. Reality turned out to be quite different.

Your car was by no means new. It had been well loved and well driven for many years before it came into your possession, but you had done the yearly maintenance, oil changes, inspections…None of that mattered now as it sputtered and choked on the side of a winding road overlooking the ocean. With one last shudder it completely stalled, steam ominously hissing from under the hood.

You pulled out your smartphone and sighed at the utter lack of service. Phone technology had grown by leaps and bounds…service coverage had crawled behind. You pulled out your paper map and located yourself in Amnesty Bay, stranded between the town and the lighthouse. You popped the hood, turned on your hazard lights, and grabbed your bag; sliding out of the car to get a better lay of the land.

You determined the lighthouse was definitely closer. You propped the hood open, ostensibly to take a look at the engine…it revealed none of its secrets to you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you turned and started up the road to the lighthouse. The walk took roughly twenty minutes, during which not a single car passed you. No bars of cell service appeared on your phone either. It was warm, thankfully, with a nice breeze off the ocean, but you were still grateful to arrive at the backdoor of the lighthouse.

You took a steadying breath and knocked firmly, suddenly realizing there was a possibility that no one was home. Your fears didn’t have time to take hold, however, as almost immediately a man came to the door with a smile.

“Can I help you?” He asked in a Kiwi accent, a tea towel over his shoulder and sleeves rolled up, obviously in the midst of the dishes.

“Hi! I’m very sorry to bother you, my car broke down a ways up the road and I was wondering if I could borrow your phone to call for a tow?”

“Absolutely! Come on in, it’s just in the kitchen. I’m Tom by the way, nice to meet you” He stepped out, holding the door with his shoulder and shaking your hand warmly on your way into the house.

You smiled brightly and introduced yourself in return. “I really appreciate it, thank you very much.”

He followed you into the kitchen and pulled down a phonebook, opening it to the towing company. “Definitely call this one, the other is a bit out a lout.” He tapped the number and you nodded firmly. “Tell them to take you to Randy’s by the marina, he won’t overcharge you.”

You laughed warmly and dialed the number. A friendly woman answered the line, and you requested a tow to Randy’s shop, explaining where you’d left your car. She gave you an expected cost and arrival time of the truck before you ended the call.

“She says it will be about an hour, I should start back so I don’t miss them. Thank you again…” You turned to face Tom, who’d gone back to doing his dishes, trailing off as there was suddenly a huge man in the room. He had the fridge open, leaning on the door as he peered in, looking for something.

“Nonsense!” Exclaimed Tom. “We’ll give you a ride back to your car in about an hour, you’ve already had quite the hike. Arthur, why don’t you grab our guest a beverage while you’re in there?”

The man, Arthur, suddenly seemed aware of your presence and turned to look at you, now holding a can of beer. So that had been what he was looking for.

“What’s your poison?” He rasped. “We’ve got beer, soda, lemonade?”

“Oh, uh a soda would be great, I guess. I appreciate all your help.” You didn’t have the wherewithal to refuse the ride, or the drink, from either of them. You took the can from Arthur, and he gestured to the table before taking a seat himself. You sank slowly into the chair, feeling his eyes on you, assessing. Tom’s voice broken the tension, thankfully.

“This is my son, Arthur. He usually has better manners, but he just woke up after all.” He chided warmly.

You introduced yourself to Arthur as well, taking a sip of your soda while he took a long pull of his beer.

“So, what brings you to Amnesty Bay?” Arthur broke the silence. Ah there it was, the questioning was no longer just in his eyes.

“Road trip” You answered lamely, before shaking your head at yourself. “I was ready to explore the East Coast, my car was not apparently.” You smirked ruefully and relaxed a little when he echoed your expression.

Conversation flowed a little more easily after that, his suspicion dissipating. Tom joined you both with the last of the coffee from breakfast. Arthur revealed himself to be less intimidating than his appearance, especially as the beer got lower in the bottle, and the effects of his night before were washed away.

The hour passed before any of you really noticed, the honk of the tow truck in the back yard startling you all. You hurried out to apologize, turning back to the Curry’s and waving in thanks before hopping in the cab with the driver.

The trip back to town was easy, the assessment of your vehicle didn’t take too long, but the news was not good. Several parts needed to be replaced and none were on hand in the shop. It would be at least a week and a fair chunk of change as well.

You agreed to the work and took your suitcase out of the trunk, leaving your keys with Randy. He gave you directions to the local inn where you could stay while you waited for the car to be functional again, but his tone didn’t give you great confidence in the accommodations would you find there. You headed out to find the Inn, passing by Terry’s Sunken Galleon, stopping quickly as you heard a shout from near the door.

“Brokedown Girl!”

You looked back to see Arthur bounding over to you, strongly reminding you of a golden retriever.

“This does not look like your car is ok…” He said as he stepped up beside you. He wasn’t even winded. Tom was bringing up the rear at a much more reasonable pace.

You sighed and shook your head. “A week at least, everything they need is out of town.”

“Oh man that’s rough…” He shook his head.

Tom had gotten close enough to get the gist of the situation. “Well, we’ll just have to make the best of your bad situation.” He clapped Arthur on the back. “Once you get your room at the Inn come meet us a Terry’s and we come up with a plan to save your vacation.”

You blinked, utterly stunned. “I couldn’t impose like that, truly I’ll find something to do.”

Tom shook his head and Arthur slowly followed suit. “We will not hear of it.”

And they meant it. No sooner had you joined them at the bar, getting a rum and coke as it was now afternoon, than they had a whole list of destinations for you to choose from.

The repairs ended up taking two weeks, and your vacation turned out better than you could have ever planned. You also ended up with two lifelong friends. You stayed in touch with letters, emails, texts, and phone calls. The consistency of Arthur’s contact was much less reliable; the man kept jumping in the ocean with his phone in his pocket…

The world changed in 2013 when the long-posed question “Are we alone in the universe?” was answered with a world resounding, violent “No!” Beings from other plants, meta humans, violence, and crime made the world a darker place. Arthur became darker too, more self-destructive as he wrestled with his heritage.

He’d told you everything, the story of his parents, the story of Atlantis, during a 2:00 AM drunk dial. He was sitting on the shore somewhere in Georgia with a bottle of Jack Daniels, face timing you snug in your bed back home. It had been a lot to take in, but you never doubted him.

In 2018, when the ocean regurgitated all of the filth your kind had been polluting with for centuries, you were not surprised. Arthur had implied there might be conflict soon. Since that day, Arthur had been unreachable. Tom confirmed he was alright, but that he was now spending his days in Atlantis, leading his people.

You wondered when you might be able to hear the story from him, but never did you suspect that you would play a role in what was to come.

Read Part One

Masterlist

#orm x reader #orm marius x reader #orm imagine #orm fic #orm marius imagine #orm marius fic #ocean master x reader

100 notes · View notes