#Logan Airport Parking

[trinityreservation0]

Your Guide to Long-Term Parking Options Near Logan Airport

While there might be several options available, finding the most reliable and cost-effective long-term parking near Logan Airport can often be a challenge. Logan Airport provides on-airport parking options that are convenient due to their proximity.

https://justpaste.it/b58uu

#Long-Term Parking Options Near Logan Airport

[smithmark71421]

Convenient Long Term Parking Near Logan Airport: Tips and Recommendations

When planning your trip from Logan Airport, the last thing you want to worry about is the hassle of finding a suitable parking spot for your vehicle.

#long-term parking near Logan Airport

[dear-ao3]

ok so considering im decently sure a good chunk of the f1 drivers dont actually like driving road cars on roads (fair) i propose a new grand prix to determine the real Best Driver.

behold. the rush hour grand prix.

1 lap. at rush hour on a friday night. all the usual normal commuters and terrible drivers are still on the road along with all the drivers. in the rain. everyone drives a car of their choice. they have to count out all their tolls using change, no one gets ez pass. and you get disqualified if you veer from the instructions (no wrong turns!)

and where does this take place?

thats right.

new jersey. (and new york city) (but mostly new jersey)

here is the proposed track:

we start and end on route 22 right outside the staples. a terrible awful road that would cause harm to any driver, especially european ones. route 22 is so terrible because there is a long stretch that has a center median with shops in it, so theres shops on the right the left and in the center with u turns every 500 feet.

they go east on 22 towards us route 1 and 9 and, thats right, newark liberty international airport. here they have to do a loop around all of the departure terminals before exiting and heading towards jersey city on route 78.

they take route 78 through the holland tunnel, which is a hilarious tunnel to go through as you can literally blink and miss the signs because theyre so small.

upon arriving in new york city they will head towards the canal street station, doing an awful little loopy loop to take hudson street to 8th avenue. new york will prove a challenge for many of them because every other street and avenue there is pretty much a one way in the opposite way.

theyre going to turn right on 23rd street and take it three blocks towards the flatiron building on fifth avenue before doing another turn around and heading back up sixth avenue

here theyre going to turn left on 40th street, then right on 7th avenue then immediately right again on 41st street and then back to 6th avenue which they'll take all the way to the bottom of central park. here they'll turn left onto 59th street then go around columbus circle, exiting on broadway and then going right onto 57th street, which they'll then take down to 11th avenue, then after. few blocks cut over to the west side highway (12 avenue) and then they'll get off at 40th street and enter, you guessed it, the lincoln tunnel.

they'll exit the lincoln and get onto route 3 which they'll take down to route 120 and then they'll do a single doughnut in the parking lot at the american dream mall (a terrible place) before getting onto, you guessed it! 95!! they'll take 95 (devil highway) to 78 to the garden state parkway before getting back on route 22, doing a quick hairpin turn at one the first u turn and then end up straight back where they started. outside the staples.

i think maybe 3 people would finish the whole thing. logan sargeant, being the only american, would come in first. fernando alonso takes second and valtteri bottas takes third.

#im accepting no questions #not a tag #from saph #f1

[disneyprincemuke]

baby, it's cold outside

alternatively: she just wants to stay in bed

in which she always get seasonal depression at the same time of the year and he tries to make her feel better about it

(series masterlist)

logan opens the door to their apartment, slightly baffled at the eerie silence he's greeted with. he smiles slightly when stubby approaches him with a smile, hopping right by him as he slips his shoes off right by the entryway.

the corgi pads behind him by a step as he makes his way further into the house. when he entered the living room, he had half expected to find his girlfriend sitting on the couch with kidnapper on her lap while she binged on the new netflix show she started to watch last night.

but nothing. his girlfriend is nowhere to be found in the common areas.

he hums before heading for his room - the last place he had seen her before he left in the morning for the gym. surely enough, there she was still in the same spot as he remembered.

"you haven't eaten yet?" logan voices out, gently putting his bag down right by his bedroom door. he turns on the light, tilting his head in confusion when she pulls the blankets over her head. "babe, it's almost one in the afternoon."

"i'm not hungry," she answers simply.

"have you gotten out of bed yet?"

"no, i don't have anything to do today."

"have you fed the kids?"

"i thought you fed them breakfast."

"i did. what about lunch? they were supposed to eat at twelve-thirty."

she doesn't respond immediately. she removes the blanket from her head and turns to look at him. "i lost track of time. i'm sorry."

she starts to push herself off the bed, carefully moving around the cat that's decided to take solace at the foot of the bed right next to her feet. "i'll do it right now."

"hey, don't worry about it," logan sighs, walking over to where she is. he holds her shoulders and gently forces her back down to her previous spot. "what's wrong? you're usually up and about by nine."

she lowers her chin and then lifts her eyes to meet him. she pushes her hair behind her ear and sighs. "it's too cold," she mutters, shaking her head slightly. "and it's so dark outside - i couldn't get myself out of bed."

something immediately connects in his head. he should've known that this was coming. every year, without fail, during the peak of winter when it gets too cold to do anything, she tends to start feeling a little bit under the weather.

the sun is only out for a short window of time every day, and it’s only contributed to how hard it’s been to get herself out of bed.

everything just seems so blue and mellow, as she’s said several times before.

“okay, how about,” logan hums with a small smile, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. he takes his hands into hers. “i’ll go make lunch, feed kidnapper and stubby. and then let’s go on a date? let’s go drive to the park outside of town and take a walk?

“or, if you want… i heard from ciara that there’s a new go-kart place that opened downtown. if you wanna race, we can go and do that!”

“the sun is gonna set in two hours,” she whines, throwing herself back into the bed head first. “what is the point of even doing anything during the winter?”

“don’t say that,” logan frowns, pulling her up to prevent her from lying back down. “we’re heading to australia in a couple of days — just hang on for a bit and then we can go bask in the sun and piss oscar off.”

“that’s too far away. i don’t wanna do anything until we absolutely have to leave for the airport,” she insists, attempting to drop herself back into the bed once more. “just leave me here to rot and die.”

he laughs softly, letting go of her hands when she drops herself on her back one more time. she turns around to lie on her stomach and buries her face into his pillow. “babe, you have to eat something.”

“i don’t have to eat anything. a human body can survive days without food,” she says, moving her head slightly to peek at him with one eye. “i hate winter. i’m so glad we’re going to melbourne for christmas.”

“i won’t be able to go to melbourne with you if you don’t eat anything,” logan frowns, resting a hand on her lower back. he shakes her slightly, prompting an annoyed mew from the black cat on the bed. “sorry.”

“i’ll starve until melbourne.”

“babe.”

“baby.”

he presses his lips together, trying to rake his brain for the file that had the list of ways that they would do over the years to pull her out of her seasonal depression. it’s always a challenge to try and remember the whole list.

instead of thinking, logan inches forward before resting his entire body weight on her back. she groans and attempts to roll out from under him, but he doubles down and simply grabs her wrists.

“let me cook you lunch so i can nurture you! your mum will kill me if i let you starve!”

“she won’t know unless you tell her!”

“i’ll tell her!”

“then i’ll feel bad cause she will kill you! just don’t tell her!”

“feel bad enough to eat what i’ll cook you?”

“no!”

“what if we go to the chinese restaurant down the street?”

he feels her lift her head, making him crane his neck to look at her. she pushes the hair out of her face and stares at him blankly. “beef noodles? dimsum? really?”

he smiles at her enthusiasm. “yeah, of course. that’s what you eat off their menu.”

for the first time that day, there’s a spark in her eye and a smile that he’s glad is finally making an appearance. “and then let’s go-kart after?”

“yeah! it’s a date?” he gets off her to sit up, letting her roll over and sit up with him. “and then we can go to your favourite cafe for some coffee and cake.”

she lifts her eyebrows, puckering her lips out. “oo, cake.”

she sits on her legs with her hands resting on her knees politely. “i’ll get ready after i feed the kids! hold on.” she starts moving away from him, crawling towards the other side of the bed. “kidnapper, let’s feed you.”

logan yanks her into him, making her fall on her back and her head lands in his lap. he grins and pinches her cheek lightly. “i’ll feed them. you go get ready.”

“but i was supposed to feed them lunch.”

“yeah, but i’m here now. i can do that,” he beams. “you worry about getting ready — i’ll take care of everything else.”

she pouts her lip out. she stretches her arms up towards him, cupping his cheeks to squish his face. “that’s so sweet. thank you.”

“of course.” he scrunches his nose as she pulls him down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “cup of orange juice for the pretty girl?"

taglist: @myxticmoon

#logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant x you #female driver #fem!driver #f1 female driver #f1 x you #f1 #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke ial

[joannaliceevans-fanficblog]

Evermore: Part. 2: Chapter. One

A/N: And here we are! The second half of this series! I just wanted to give a quick shout-out to everyone who has loved and reblogged this story! I truly love it! SO thank you so much!

I also wanted to thank @hollybee8917 for this beautiful mood board and for editing this chapter! Thank you babe!

A cold winter morning as you drove down this familiar route. Looking outside always reminds you of a snow globe. You peeked behind you to see your baby girl in her car seat, humming to the song in the car.  

“Chloe bug, do you know where we are going?” You asked. You saw as she placed her little index finger on her chin and giggled.  

“Papa?” Chloe askedwith excitement. You smiled as you turned into the Massachusetts National Cemetery.  You found the section and parked on the side.  You then got out of the car and went back, to get Chloe out of her seat. You told her to stay by your side as you grabbed the flowers from the passenger seat.  

“Come on, hold onto mommy’s hand.” You say and Chloe reaches for your hand. 

You then proceeded to walk toward the middle of the cemetery. It took a few minutes and you pause in the middle of the large headstone.  

Ari David Levinson 

June 14, 1981- April 16th, 2023 

Captain US Army, West Point 

Beloved Son, Husband, and Father 

You then bent down to your daughter and handed her the bouquet. Her little hands held on to them and she looked toward you.  

“Momma is for Papa?” She asked. 

You smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Yes, baby. Papa always gave me flowers too. He would love it; would you like to give it to him?”

Chloe smiled. With her tiny hands, she held onto him and placed them down next to him.  

“Hi Papa, Mommy says you like flowers. I went to the zoo yesterday! I see lots of animals! Ands Uncles DeeDee calls! He says I get smart!” Chloe said as she placed the flowers down. 

** 

It's been 5 years since Ari left you and this world. Those 5 years were the hardest that you went through. Even if you had your friends, coworkers, and families. It just wasn’t the same. You did your best, going on with your life. Andy hasn’t returned, but he kept in touch with you every day or when he got the chance.  

You even went on dates, nothing special. You didn’t want to move on, but you knew that Ari wanted to live your life. Explore, see places, and just be happy. That’s all that he wanted from you.  

Chloe learned how to walk when she was a year and a half. It was caught on camera while face timing Andy and even learning mama and Papa, Grammy, and Pawpaw.  

You bent down and placed your hand on his gravestone and placed your head down. Even though it’s been long, you still feel his presence.  

“Oh, Ari Bear.” You said and kissed the top. 

You felt your tears fall, and you felt Chloe wipe them away with her tiny hands. You smiled and turned towards her. 

“Mommy don’t cry. Papa no want you sad. Papa makes you happy right?” 

Chloe said and turned towards her. You smiled and placed a hand on her cheek.  

“Yes, Papa made me very happy. Did Grammy or Pawpaw tell you that?” You asked. 

With pride, Chloe nodded, “Yup! And Pawpaw saids that he’s a big hero!” 

More tears slipped down your cheeks and you hugged your daughter.   

“Yes, baby bug. Your Papa was a hero. Now come on, Grammy and Pawpaw are waiting for us!” You said, getting up.  

“Bye Papa! I wue you!” You heard Chloe say. 

You laughed and let out a sigh, “Love you Mr. Levinson. I’ll see you next week.” 

You said, kissing his headstone one last time, taking your daughter's hand, and headed back down to your car.  

** 

Boston Logan International Airport 

After a long 8-hour flight from Germany newly promoted General Andy Barber entered US soil, after living in Frankfurt for 5 years. He meant to come home, but from the cases he took, it took longer than he expected.  But now that it is all over, he is happy to be home. But what drove him to come back was a letter that he received over 5 years ago, but only really had the heart to open it 4 months ago.  

4 months ago… 

Andy was in the process of closing a case with his team when a box he was looking through fell on the ground, and its contents spilled. Cursing, he bent down and began to pick them up. But as he did, he saw the familiar handwriting and he knew who it was from. He tried to put it to the side, but something in him had told him to now open it.  

He excused himself from his team and headed outside to his balcony. He closed the door behind him and stared at the envelope. He studied the familiar writing and how he writes in all caps. He took a seat for a moment, to collect his thoughts. 

Andy didn’t know why; he was afraid or feeling sad. Taking one last sigh, Andy began to slowly open the flaps.   

There were bits of sand inside meaning that he was in the desert as he wrote this. Andy placed the envelope down. And he opened the letter.  

Dear Lieutenant General Andrew Steven Barber,  

Wow, that sounds very professional. Anyways, I feel like I’m doing this the old-fashioned way, but this would be the best way. Before I end this letter Andy, I’m writing this before I call Y/N and I’m about to leave on a high-stakes mission.  

This mission is extremely dangerous, and there is a VERY slim chance that I would survive. It hurts to think about it, but this is what I signed up to do. I can’t give you All the information, because you know the rules. The reason I’m writing this to you is that I have something to ask of you.  

What I’m asking is to take care of my angel and my little munchkin. They mean the world to me, and you know that. I know that Y/N would be sad if I didn’t make home to her and Chloe. We took care of each other, but I have a feeling that I won’t make it. I know I’m hurting you and my family. But I know that it will be okay.  

All I ask, once again, is to take care of her. Be there for her, and just be the friend that you have always been. If you fall for her? Then I’m not stopping you, dude. But if you break her heart, then I’ll seriously punch you in your sleep.  

I’m sorry that it’s going to be this way, I’m sad that I won’t be able to see my baby girl grow up to be a wonderful sassy girl, and I’m heartbroken that I won’t be able to live for the rest of my life with my beautiful Y/N.  

Oh, and to see you grow old, Lieutenant General Andy Barber. Don’t fuck anything up sir. OKAY! 

I got to go. I need to make that phone call to my wife.  

Your best friend since 1st grade,  

Captain Ari David Levinson.  

Andy placed the letter back into its envelope and kept it close to him. He just wanted to pack up and go back home. But he can’t, not right at this moment. As he went back in, his friend Joanne looked up towards him and gave him a concerned look. He tried to brush it off, as he sat back down. But of course, she wouldn’t let it pass by.  

“Andy, what’s wrong?” Joanne asked him. Again, Andy brushed it off, and proceeded to go on. Joanne looked at Andy and sighed.  

“Andy Barber, I know you. What’s wrong?” Joanne asked once more. Andy sighed and placed the envelope down. 

“I finally opened it.” Andy said, rubbing his eyes.  

“Oh, that one. How are you feeling?” Joanne asked. Andy laid his head into his hands.  

“Home, I need to get back home,” Andy said.  

** 

Andy was asked to take over the Washington DC office, but he politely declined and asked to take over the office in Boston and it’s close to home for him. As he walked out of the terminal, Y/N’s cousin pulled up and parked to the side. Andy smiled and hugged him. 

“Welcome home bro!” Mark said. Andy let go and patted him on his back and then placed his luggage into the back seat. He got in and Mark drove off.  

“My mom called and Y/N just pulled up.” Andy smiled and let out a giggle. 

“She has no clue does she?” Andy asked and Mark chuckled as he drove onto the highway.  

“No clue at all. It’s why Ari was good at hiding surprises from her.” Mark said, smiling, making Andy laugh even more. 

It wasn’t long before Mark pulled up into Y/N's family home. He told Andy to stay outside the door so he could make sure that you were busy. Andy leaned back against the wall and Mark went inside the house. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Mark gave him the clear.  

Once he walked in, Andy could hear her laughter from the kitchen. That familiar laugh that always brought Ari and him such joy. Especially Ari. It was too long, and the nerves were getting to him, but he quickly brushed them away, letting out a breath, and made his way in. As he made his way in, your mom looked up and he quickly hushed her. Your mom just winked and continued the conversation with the others around her. It was then Andy who gave Mark a signal and he nodded.  

“You know Y/N I got a surprise for you,” Mark said. 

You tilted your head and asked, “What?” 

Your cousin smirked, “Close your eyes and turn around three times.” 

“I’m not doing that, the last time you did that…a fucking spider was involved! Just tell me.” 

Mark laughed, “Just close your eyes.” 

“Fine,” you huffed, “but it better not be anything disgusting.” 

Mark grew quiet and Andy stepped into the spot he previously occupied and spoke, “It’s not.” 

You were confused, “Mark, what happened to your voice? That sounded like-” 

Y/N opened her eyes and they widened, “ANDY!” 

You yelled as you turned around to face your best friend. You stared at Andy for a moment, thinking that it was a dream. The last time you saw him was 5 years ago. FaceTime doesn’t count. You kept thinking to yourself that it was all a dream and that you would wake up, and he was not there in front of you.  

“Y/N?” Andy asked, laughing.  

“NO, this isn’t. No, I can't-” you stuttered, trying to comprehend what is going on.  

“Y/N, it’s true,” Andy said, smiling at you. 

And that’s what gave it away. That genuine smile that he’s known for. The smile that brings joy to you.  

“Oh my god- “You yelled and jumped onto him. Andy caught you and you held onto him tight. You felt your tears, as Andy held onto you.  

“I can’t believe you are here.” You said, jumping off him and giving him a look over. He still looks the same, apart from having a thick beard.  

“Christ, Andy!” You said, giving him a friendly shove. 

Andy laughed and you hugged him once more.  

“Are you here for good? No leaving for long periods?” You asked with hope.  

“No, I’m here for good this time,” Andy told you.  

“You know who else would be happy to see you?” You asked. 

Andy knew and smiled. You then took his hand and dragged him outside, where Chloe was with her cousins playing. You then spotted her at the mini playground playing in the sand. You then turned to Andy and smiled. 

“Stay here and I’ll bring her to you.” You said and walked over to the playground.  

“Chloe!” You yelled for her, as you got there. Chloe then sat up from the sand, and who was covered in moist dusty dirt. You laughed and bent down to her as she ran to you.  

“Mommy! I made a pretty castle!” Chloe proclaimed with excitement. You smiled and cleaned off the sand off her hair, hands, and her dress.  

“That’s an amazing baby! But there’s something that I need to tell you.” You said tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.  

“Okay. Are you okay mommy?” Chloe asked, with concern. 

You smiled again and marveled at how much your daughter takes after Ari. Always concerned, always knows if something is wrong. But this time, there wasn’t anything wrong. 

“Mommy is okay, baby. But there is something that I need to tell you. You remember Uncle Andy, right? Papa’s best friend?” You asked. 

Her little green eyes lit up and she smiled. 

“Umcle DeeDee?” Chloe asked and you laughed. 

“Yes, baby.” You replied. 

You placed her in front of you and pointed straight ahead. Chloe's eyes widened and ran towards Andy. 

“Umcle DeeDee!” Chloe shouted running towards Andy. 

Andy smiled and scooped her into his arms.  

“Oh, my Chloe!” Andy said as he held on to her. 

Chloe wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, and she burst into tears. Andy hugged her softly and rubbed her back, “Chloe, what’s wrong?” 

She lifted her head and wiped her tears, and started to hiccup from crying, “Umcle you went away. Please don’t go away?” 

Andy wiped away her tears and kissed her cheek. You then stood by his side as your daughter cried.  

“Don’t worry, Chloe bug. Uncle Andy isn’t leaving. I’ll be here forever,” Andy whispered and Chloe looked at him again. 

You wiped away her tears and tucked some of her hair behind her ears. 

“You prowmis?” Chloe asked, still hiccupping. 

Andy smiled and kissed her cheek again, “I promise Chloe Bug. Uncle Andy isn’t leaving anymore.” 

Andy put her down. You and Andy watched as she ran back to the playground and continued with her sandcastle. 

** 

It was late in the night when you arrived home. Andy went home with you so that you wouldn’t have to drive home by yourself. Even if you have done so before. Chloe fell asleep in the back the moment you buckled her in her car seat. The drive home was spent in a comfortable silence. Except for the music playing in the background. As Andy pulled up, you got out and took your sleeping daughter into your arms.  

“Andy, I’m going to put her to bed, and I’ll show you your bedroom.” You said, heading towards the front doorway. As you opened the door, you headed upstairs and went to Chloe's bedroom. With her moaning in protest, you laughed as you placed her in her Hello Kitty tee-shirt and her pink Pj pants.  

Normally, you would read her a story before bed, but it was late, and your daughter was tired. So you tucked her in and kissed her forehead. 

“Good night baby. Sleep tight, Mommy loves you and Papa too.” You said and sat up. 

As you did, you looked at her nightstand to see a picture of Ari in his combat uniform and with his dog tags hanging on the edge of the frame. You smiled and headed out of her bedroom. Once you closed the door, you headed back downstairs and saw the kitchen lights on. You headed towards there, to see that he had a glass of water in his hands.  

“I hope you don’t mind,” Andy said, feeling rather embarrassed. 

You giggled and leaned against the island table. 

“Oh Andy, you should know you can take anything. Your family.” 

Andy laughed, “I know, but you know I just had to ask anyway.” 

He chugged down the rest of the water. He placed the glass into the sink, and you went to show him his room. With his luggage in his hands, Andy followed you and led him down the hallway.  

“Looks like nothing has changed,” Andy said. 

You sighed and opened the door at the end of the hallway. You turned on the lights and Andy walked in. You were about to show him where the towels and other things were, but Andy had beaten you to it.  

“Y/N, I know where the towels are. Unless you put them in another place.” Andy said. 

Again, you laughed. “Sorry Andy, it's just been a long time since I had company here.”  

Silence filled in and you cleared your throat. It was then you suddenly remembered something, and you knew that your neighbor and your parents were going to be busy.  

“Andy, I know that you just got here. But I was just wondering if you could watch Chloe tomorrow night?” You asked. Andy looked up from where he was sitting on the bed.  

“Uh, sure. Was there a reason?” Andy asked. 

You felt your cheeks blush and you sighed, “Yea, I um-I have a date with someone.”

Andy looked at you for a moment and raised an eyebrow.  

“A date? Do I know this person?” Andy asked and you sighed.  

“No, but he is from the Army. He’s a sergeant general.” You spoke and Andy continued to look at you.  

“His name is Jake Jensen.” You spoke. Andy sat up and placed his hands on his hips. 

“What is it with you and the army men?” Andy asked and you laughed.  

“Hey, shut up, okay? I met him at a party that one of my coworkers held, okay? It’s just a date Andy, nothing too serious. I’m not ready for that commitment,” you said. Andy sighed and pulled you into a hug. 

“I know, idiot, and I want you to be happy and I can see that.” 

You smiled and held Andy tight, “I know and I thank you for that. So can you watch Chloe?” You asked. Andy laughed, pulled away from you and looked down at you.  

“Yes, I can. It gives me the chance to catch up with her and to spoil her too!” Andy said. 

You laughed and playfully pushed him, “God, you are the worst.” 

You walked out of the bedroom.  

#andy barber #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson angst

[runwayrunway]

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.

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

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

Oh back to Yellowsuccess! I think after the plane crash Logan would become obsessive trying to arrange a rescue until enough time passed for him to "cut his losses" and shut down, and things would get even nastier between him and Kendall because of how it seems that he's brushing off the disappearance of his supposed favorite child like it's nothing and Kendall takes out his own feelings of guilt for being a shitty brother onto him. He's also the first to recognize that Shiv is probably dead while Roman is the last, coming up with elaborate scenarios in his head for what she might be doing and maybe for a while believing he's got some kind of psychic connection with her. And then of course things gets Very weird when it turns out she's been alive after all.

Logan is not an idealist. He never claimed to be.

Look, life's not a walk in the fucking park. It's a rollercoaster that goes off the rails onto the crowd below. If you’re lucky, you scramble over the crushed bodies beneath you out of the wrecked train, bleeding all over the cotton candy squeezed in a dead fist. It's a shitstorm.

Terrible things happen. People die.

You can't make it to the soccer match that gets your daughter's team into Nationals. There have been too many whispers about cruises lately, so you need to be at that board meeting. To make up for it, you hire a few nonunion mechanics to spruce up one of your recently decommissioned private planes so your daughter and her teammates can fly to Seattle in a little luxury. The thing's no hunk of junk, just a little smaller and more delicate than the top of the line, newest models. It's not like they're flying to fucking Hong Kong. Compared to the far flung cities Logan regularly flies to, a quick trip over Canada from New York to Seattle is a mere hop, skip, and a jump. It'll be fine.

But no, actually, because the fucking plane crashes somewhere in the Canadian rockies.

Terrible things happen. People die.

But Siobhan --

Siobhan's not People. Siobhan is his.

It is nearly four in the afternoon. Logan skims over another damn contract about some obnoxious port problem off the coast of Brazil. ATN drones on in the background about Dubya's daring new Medicare cuts. Outside the glass doors he suddenly hears hurried feet, rushed whispers. He glances up and a PA is darting here, another darting there, and here comes Gerri looking pale as if she's about to lose her lunch. Frank and Karl follow, looking about the same. The new press girl Karolina trails them, speaking rapidly into her phone.

"What," he barks as they hussle in. God, don't tell him there's another NRPI situation he needs to sign away discreetly while deliberatey avoiding the written details. On top of this fucking Brazil thing --

But no, Gerri's pallor, Frank's stony expression --

"Logan," Gerri's voice is weaker than he's ever heard it, but as always she's keeping it together. "Logan, it's Shiv."

It doesn't occur to him. Not yet. But Gerri's face.

"What about her?"

Her tongue darts over her lips quickly and he's never seen her like this.

"The plane" --

Karolina cuts in, shifting her phone away from her mouth. "It's leaked. I've given Cyd the go-ahead so ATN can announce it first."

Gerri closes her eyes.

Fear, fear Logan is mostly able to keep at bay, rushes in like a flood from the creek Rose drowned herself in --

"Someone fucking tell me right now or you're all fired!"

Before they answer, from the TV comes, "We're getting word now that a private plane carrying a high school girls' soccer team to Nationals in Seattle has lost contact with airport authorities after being overtaken by a storm surge over the Canadian Rockies. It's early hours yet, but authorities fear the plane went down --"

Water, rushing water all up and down inside him, plummeting.

Nothing's quite real anymore.

Rose....

But Siobhan is not Rose. Siobhan is a scrappy fighter like him, a survivor. She has Ewan's annoying habit of disagreeing with him. She has her mother's acid tongue, his mother's grit. She has none of Rose's vulnerability. They don't even look that much alike outside of the coloring --well, okay, that's not strictly true, they look a little bit alike, okay, now that Logan thinks about it, they look a lot alike -- but they're not the same.

No. Shiv's tough. Shiv's tough. She's a survivor. She's his whip-smart Pinky with the wicked smile, his little hell-raiser confidant. His girl.

Logan doesn't believe in any of that woo wee woo, cosmic bullshit about feeling whether someone close to you is alive or not, but...Logan would know.

Shiv is his blood, his self. Add Shiv and her brothers up and they equal Logan. Ken, Rome, and yes, Connor -- sometimes they make up the parts Logan loathes about himself. But not Shiv.

So he would know if she was -- he would feel it, no matter how much he disavows that spiritual shit.

He doesn't feel it, not now. He didn't feel this coming at all. Shiv is alive. Shiv is alive.

Shiv is alive, so he has to act, now.

"Call DC," he says to no one in particular and so that means everyone. "Tell Cheney we need a search party. Top of the line military OP types, no bleeding heart volunteer morons. If he flinches, tell him we've been sitting on that story about the Chump-in-Chief falling off the wagon in Key West. Tell Laird to pucker up and suck off whatever Canadian officials we need to get full access beyond the border. Who's overseeing this? Get me on the line with them, now."

This is different from Rose because he is in control now. Total control.

Evening. The door opens and Roman is there in the study. His eyes are more haunted and frightened than Ken can ever remember them being, and Rome often wore that look in his childhood.

They embrace.

"Like, what the fuck, man? What the fuck," Roman asks into his shoulder.

Ken gives him a squeeze. "It's going to be okay, Rome. Shiv's too much of a bitch to go down that way."

Roman hiccups a laugh. "Yeah, she probably pushed the pilots out of the way and landed the thing herself. She's going to get those poor bastards fired."

They don't separate until Connor arrives. He wraps them both in his arms.

"Hey, guys. Whatever happens, it will be okay."

Both secretly resent him saying that, since it implies something might happen.

The door opens and here comes their father. He whispers a few words in Gerri's direction and for once shuts her and the rest out to address them.

Sill, when he speaks, his voice is as impersonal as the one he uses when trying to boost morale amongst hired underlings. Almost light, airy.

The only difference is his eyes. They're glassy. Unfocused. He doesn't meet any of their gazes.

He claps, starts. "Boys, uh, glad you're here. Glad you're here. Thank you for coming. Uh, it's all good. All good. We've got search parties setting off now. And we're getting word they've picked up a signal from the plane's transmittor. So it won't take long now."

He hasn't once said even her name.

Still, not just for Logan, but for Roman, Kendall says, "Yeah. Yeah. Of course. It's, like, impossible for a plane to completely go missing these days. They'll find the signal and pick them up."

"Right." The briefest of nods from his father, a rare sign of acknowledgement, thanks. He takes in a breath and finally brings her up. "Your sister's tough, now. She's tough. She's going to be just fine. Isn't she, Connor?"

Connor's sitting on the back of the sofa, and his face is grim. Still he nods. "Sure, Pa. Sure."

Roman's too much in shock to notice what they're doing. It's for him. With Shiv gone, Roman is the baby. It's a show for him.

The youngest son says nothing, just gives a weak smile behind the fingers covering his face. His shoulders are hunched upward like a dog mincing away from the whip.

"Uh-huh. Okay." Logan's eyes wander over the room. If they didn't know him, they'd think he was a confused old man who doesn't quite remember where he is. But Dad's not old, they all tell themselves. He's not. And he knows what he's doing. He's just a little...unsettled. "Thank you, boys. Thank you."

"Uh, dad," Kendall clears his throat. "Is there...is there anything I - we can do right now? Like, does the search party need volunteers?"

"Huh? Oh, no, son. We've got top of the line -- it's taken care of. "

"Okay. How about, how about Mom? Does - she knows, right? Or --"

"Ah? Oh, your mother. Uh, yes, I'm sure she knows by now. Someone must have...I mean, if you want to call her..."

"Sure, dad. Sure. I can do that."

Logan's gaze finally rests on Kendall, and there's true warmth there. "Thank you, Kenny. Okay, boys, I'll keep you posted." Then, without another word or glance, he leaves the boys behind him, their haunted eyes on his retreating back.

It's about five in the morning when Logan's bedside phone starts ringing. He's only been in bed for three hours, and been asleep for just about one. He'd just been dreaming of a campfire, and girls were laughing. Shiv's face is covered in soot but she's smiling, eyes sparkling as she knocks shoulders with one of her teammates --

However, he's awake instantly and answers. "What? Siobhan?"

Gerri. Her voice is very quiet, which means there's bad news.

Logan listens.

His veins are on fire. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and the darkness of the room turns red. "What? How? How can they lose the fucking signal? Those boxes are supposed to be goddamn indestructible, aren't they?...I don't fucking care that they're doing their best, Gerri, I need them to...well, don't they fucking know by now where the signal was coming from before it went away? Didn't they have jets going there?...oh, don't give me that garbage about the storm, I fucking know about the storm, that's how the plane -- interference? Fucking...what the fuck good are those fucking boxes if they can't give you the correct location through a fucking storm? Don't give me any shit about interference, Gerri!"

He listens a few moments more, breath chugging out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge. "Well, you tell Cheney and the air force that I don't give a fuck. Tell them to keep pushing. This isn't some run of the mill commercial flight with some hodunk assholes from Iowa flying to Florida for vacation, this is my daughter. In fact, there are a lot of fucking important daughters on that plane. Tell that reptile that if he wants his braindead idiot reelected, I better not hear one fucking word about the operation slowing down. Fucking got that, Ger?"

He slams the phone down. His nerves are open and raw, and the darkness is too close and Shiv is out there, she's out there and the signal is gone.

From below, Richard, giving the morning's instructions to staff, hears a roar and the phone crash against Logan's bedroom wall.

Eleven-and-a-half months later, Kendall has to see it on the news like everyone else.

He doesn't give Richard any time to warn Logan before he bursts into his father's home office. His father is not at his desk but sitting on the couch holding a scotch, staring at nothing.

"What the fuck, Dad? What is this? You're fucking calling off the search?"

His father doesn't move, doesn't look at him. "It's been almost a year, Kendall." His voice is a thousand years old.

"So? That's it? We're done? You're not gonna fucking..."

"Not gonna fucking what, Kendall?" At last his father turns to face him, and his glazed eyes are even older than his voice. "We've done everything. Searched everywhere in that damn wilderness." His eyes are on the amber liquid in his glass. "Nothing."

"W-well," Ken's stammer is back. "We-we-we can"--

"Kendall," his voice is sharp, commanding. "It's done. There's no going back. Your sister..." Kendall must be rocking on his feet, because it looks like his father is swaying. "Your sister is gone." His voice cracks at gone.

But Kendall won't hear it. "Come on. Come on, Dad. It's not like you to give up like that. We"--

"The shareholders aren't going to want anymore money going to a search party that isn't finding anything."

"So that's what it all comes down to? Fucking money? Dad? Again? That's all that matters to you, now even?"

He sees the storm cloud gathering in his father's face. "We can't keep throwing resources" --

"Throwing resources? That's what you call funding the search party to find your fucking daughter? Your alleged favorite?"

"Don't fucking push me, son."

"No, this is -- wait." Ken's eyes cast about the room. "What...where?" He cranes his head all around, checking every end table, every surface. "Dad, where..." his eyes focus back on his father. "Dad, where are her pictures?"

Logan says nothing, stares into nothing, his face saying nothing. The only horror is in his wide glazed eyes.

Kendall points to the hutch against the wall. "The picture of her and Rome as kids? Her yearbook picture on your desk? The team on the wall? Where...where the fuck are they, Dad? Where did you put them?"

Logan's voice is as low as it is ever capable of being. "They're in her room. Which is locked."

Ken is too numb for a second, but then the pain and anger burst out. "In her room? Locked away? Like she never even fucking existed? Jesus fucking Christ, Dad"--

Logan is all at once on his feet, the drink slammed down on the coffee table. "And what the fuck have you been doing, Kendall? Hm? What have you been doing to find your sister? All this time, playing with your dick in your overpriced dorm room at that Ivy League dump instead of joining the search party?"

Kendall doesn't know whether to laugh or scream. "You told me not to volunteer, Dad. You told me not to interrupt my education. You said I wouldn't know what I was doing and I'd only get in the way"--

Logan's red face is inches in front of his. "Oh, you needed my permission, hm? My permission to go out and find your baby sister?"

"That's not fair" --

"GO ON. FUCK OFF. Your sister is gone, Kendall, and no amount of mewling about her pictures is going to bring her back. So, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND STOP WASTING ANY MORE OF MY GODDAMN TIME."

Logan turns away and marches over to his desk. His back is to Kendall, but Ken sees his arm go up over his face. Blocking everything out.

A stab of love. "Dad, I" --

"Go on, Kendall. Go on. Go and see to your brother. I can't right now. I need...I need some time."

Roman's sitting on the stairs when Kendall comes out. He's been home since everything started, "for Dad", he says. As if Logan has noticed at all. He's insisted throughout that Kendall stay at Harvard, but he's never given a serious shit about what Roman does.

"Is...is it true? He's called off the search party?"

"Yeah, Rome. Yeah, it's true."

"But why?" His voice breaks. He's trembling. "Why would he do that?"

Ken feels empty, like a clockwork man. He parrots his father. "It's been close to a year, Roman."

"So?" Roman is on his feet, arms wrapped around his slim body. He's been losing more and more weight recently. "That doesn't mean anything. If...if they're close to water, if there's game, they can still be..."

"Roman." Kendall closes his eyes, breathes. "Roman, she's gone."

A jolt shakes Roman's body. "Oh, fuck you, Kendall. You don't know that."

"Rome" --

"You don't know that. Anything could have happened!"

"We would have heard by now."

"Not necessarily! There's a lot of fucking wilderness out there."

"Right, so the chances of them making it this long"--

He stops short as Roman suddenly shoves him hard in the chest.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up, man! You don't know shit!"

"Hey, hey, Roman" --

"No! Fuck you! What, they teach you about surviving in the woods in your fucking Harvard business classes?" Another shove. "You're just fucking useless."

Kendall can't take it and he spits back. "Oh, yeah? Well, at least I'm not delusional."

"I'm not delusional."

"Yes, you are. This whole time you've never even considered that she might be" --

"Because"-- Roman cuts himself off and turns away, hands on the back of his head.

Kendall frowns. "Because what, Rome?" His shoulders slump. "Not because of your dreams. Bro, please don't tell me that."

Rome's arms are crossed again, still turned away from his brother. "Fine, I won't," he mumbles.

"They're just dreams, Roman," Kendall says for about the millionth time.

They started soon after the plane went missing. Shiv almost burning up on the crashed plane, but Roman tore off the seat belt so she could escape. Shiv happily splashing her friends in a lake they just discovered. A creepy cabin in the woods. A dark-haired girl wailing over a frozen body as the first snows fell.

Roman would never meet Ken's eyes when telling him, usually as they sat on his bed in the evening. He'd stare at his bedspread and say, "I don't know, they just feel really...real. Like I'm actually in front of her. Sometimes she sees me and gets really shocked but we..talk and stuff."

Ken never said much in reply.

He didn't want to say he'd been having the same dreams.

And now, he just won't put up with it. "You don't have some kind of psychic connection with her, okay? Like, you're not even twins, you're Irish twins." Born barely a year apart. Logan liked to throw the term around because he knew it bothered their old-English mother who deep down carried an ancient bigotry against the Irish like the rest of her family.

Roman finally faces him. "Yeah, I fucking know that, okay? But they feel more like visions than dreams"--

Kendall now shoves him hard, because he just had a flash of his own dream from last night, of Shiv stumbling in the snow and sniffling. She looked so relieved when she saw Kendall standing there in the cold, ready to help her up.

Another shove, and Roman whimpers. "You're fucking delusional, Roman. She's gone. She's dead, all right? She's fucking dead."

He doesn't wait to take in his brother's tears. He storms out of the house, pushing past Richard.

Roman collapses on the steps.

Logan can hear his youngest boy's sobs through the closed door. He's relieved. They're covering the choking sounds he himself is making. He's slouched over the window seat, clutching the curtains.

He can't stop it now, tears cloud everything.

Just last night he was sitting by Siobhan on the bank of that frozen lake again. She was wrapped up in that patchwork coat made out of bear and deer skins. He could see scars on her face. That wolf nightmare was true. His arm was around her, and he was telling her stories about how he and Ewan used to ice fish.

A little over nine months later, the call comes. Crash site found.

Survivors found.

#yellowsuccess #yellowjackets #succession #shiv roy #logan roy #kendall roy #roman roy #connor roy #gerri kellman #rose roy

[fruitcoops]

The Roadtrip

Secret Santa 2022 gift for @veryspacecowboy, monarch of AUs, PhD in story spams, and altogether outstanding friend! M, I wish you all the best in the coming year. Hopefully you can experience even half the joy you bring to those of us on the server, because that would be a damn good year. Love and hugs, dear one <3 An AU seemed appropriate considering the wonderful nonsense we get up to in the channels. Cubs credit goes to @lumosinlove!

Fifteen Hours

Attention passengers. This airport has been closed indefinitely due to inclement weather. Please contact your airline for vouchers, assistance, and travel aides.

“…so, Gryffindor?”

“Gryffindor.”

“Same.”

The redhead nodded slowly, chewing the inside of his lip as he watched the other planes begin their slow return off the runway. “Y’know, my car is still parked in the garage.”

Fourteen Hours

Leo really wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Striking up conversation with the friendly guy in the window seat was bad enough—carrying it on to their middle-seat companion was far beyond his usual level of socialization with strangers. But getting in a car with them for a four-hour drive…

Christ, it was like he was asking to get axe-murdered.

He chanced a quick look at the driver’s seat, where the redhead—Finn O’Hara, nice to meet you, where are you from?—still seemed happy enough as they made their way to the freeway through the thickening flurries. He felt a little bad about making someone else drive, but if the soft snoring from the backseat was any indication, Logan had no such qualms. It was probably smart to let a local weave them out of the city anyway.

“Zeppelin?”

Finn startled a little. “What?”

“Led Zeppelin.” Leo nodded toward the dashboard radio. “Nice.”

“Ah, yeah, my dad likes it,” Finn said with a lopsided smile.

Close with his parents. Good sign. “What do you like?”

“Little bit of everything. I’ve got, like, two dozen Spotify playlists lined up. Let me guess, you’re…country?”

Leo laughed. “What gave it away? The accent?”

“The pins on your bag.” Finn gestured vaguely toward the backpack Leo had been cradling in his lap since they left JFK. A little murdery of him to notice, but also kind of sweet. “My mom loves Carole King.”

“Carole King isn’t country.”

A blush peeked out over the collar of Finn’s jacket as he coughed lightly, looking back to the road. “Right. Yeah, of course. I knew that.”

“You don’t like country,” Leo guessed, amused.

“It’s not—bad.”

“Mhmm.” He checked the rearview mirror again and caught Logan’s drowsy gaze; that pure jade color had captivated Leo on the plane, not that he would admit it aloud. If noticing the pins on someone’s bag was creepy, there were no words for ‘I want to stare into your eyes all day’ without sounding like an absolute freak. He tilted his chin. “How about you?”

Logan’s brows furrowed. “What about me?”

“Do you like country music?”

“Ouais, some.” He yawned, stretching as much as his seat would allow. The curl of his accent was a comfort Leo didn’t care to analyze. “Dolly Parton, Johnny Cash. My sister got me into it.”

“Noelle?”

“Non, Sydney.”

“Second oldest?” At Logan’s nod and slight smile, Finn fist-pumped. “Thank you, memory. I can’t listen to country while I’m driving, but you can put whatever on when we switch.”

Eleven Hours

Logan tapped his foot impatiently next to the accelerator. They had swapped after Finn got them through two full hours of standstill traffic just outside the city limits, but there wasn’t much he could do about the descending weather. Honking at the flurries wouldn’t be nearly as helpful as it was satisfying.

“I wonder if we can Flintstones it,” Leo mused from the passenger seat. His hair stuck up on one side from leaning on the window, burnt gold in the streetlights of the interstate. His knees were folded up awkwardly in the seat well; Logan hadn’t realized how much of a fucking giant he was before their quick stop at the gas station, and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since. He was otherwise so normal. Logan couldn’t help but feel a little cowed in his shadow.

“Logan?”

He jumped, double-checking his grip on the steering wheel. “Oui?”

“Flintstones?”

“Sorry, never saw it.” He gave Leo an apologetic glance and braced himself for the inevitable ‘ooh’s and ‘aah’s. People always assumed he had been sheltered, or homeschooled, or (memorably) in a cult, but the truth was that Rimouski had shit reception and his sisters always won the TV remote in fights. The annoying part was when strangers began to list movies and see which rang a bell.

Leo hummed and leaned his head back against Finn’s soft fabric headrest. “It’s a cartoon from the 50s or something about a prehistoric family. They’ve got a pet dinosaur and shit, and their car only works if the dad sticks his feet through a hole in the floor and runs.”

Logan waited a moment longer for the questioning to continue. What about Star Wars? was always a favorite. Do you know who Steven Spielberg is? Have you seen Jaws? Hey, you remind me of that actor from…

Leo gave him a funny look, something confused and yet not offended, then turned to look out the window at the falling snow with a small smile. “It’s nice out there,” he said quietly. “Peaceful.”

Finn’s slow, heavy breaths from the backseat as he dozed accented the crawl of traffic perfectly. Logan turned away from Leo and blinked at the cars in front of them. He couldn’t help but like it, just a little. Just enough to get by.

Nine Hours

“Three rooms?” Finn dug around in his pocket, then shook his head. “Or, sorry, room for three?”

Behind rhinestone-coated glasses, the woman gave him a sympathetic look. Hi, I’m: Rhonda! Ask Me About: New Jersey! was spelled in cheerful red lettering on her lanyard. “Oh, honey.”

“Sorry, ‘s a long drive.” The weight on his back increased as Leo swayed into him. Finn prodded him gently and felt him startle back into consciousness before offering her a smile. “Came from JFK. No planes, with the weather and everything.”

“Where’re you headed?”

“Gryffindor. Family visit.” He tilted his head back toward Leo, then down at Logan, who was staring vacantly at the far wall. “Visiting a college friend, and…honestly, I have no idea where he’s going.”

“Ma sœur,” Logan mumbled.

“Right, yeah, his sister.” Finn ran a hand through his hair and over the back of his neck. His brain was mashed potatoes. What was usually a four-hour hop had become far more of a journey than he had planned. “We’ve been on the road since six. It’s a mess out there.”

“I bet.” Rhonda tapped at her keyboard for a moment and bit down on her lip. “We’ve got a room with a bed and a pullout, but that’s it. Lots of folks are coming in for the night because of the storm. I can look for a cot?”

Ice. Bed. Pullout couch. Finn suddenly became aware that he had been staring at Rhonda’s red acrylic nails for far longer than socially acceptable. “Yeah,” he managed. Everything had a faint blurry halo, even through his glasses. “Whatever you’ve got.”

“I can help you pay for it.” Leo was warm where he pressed along Finn’s side for support, a welcome reprieve from the freezing wind outside. Logan made a noise of agreement.

Just the thought of maneuvering three sets of paperwork made Finn’s growing headache throb even more. “You can Venmo me later, ‘s fine.”

The papers Rhonda passed across the desk could have been the deed to his soul, and Finn would not have hesitated a second before signing. Exhaustion washed over him in waves. The road trip had been fun at first, but after six and a half hours of creeping down the highway he was just done. He listed into Leo and felt a strong hand come down to balance his elbow; his muttered ‘thanks’ was met with a light headbutt. The cold press of the motel room key in his hand was salvation itself.

--

“Didn’t she say something about a cot?”

“Yeah, forty minutes ago. Which one of you left your wet fucking towel on the floor in here?”

“Guys, the pullout’s broken.”

“…alright, just get in the bed.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Four Hours

Six a.m. broke cruel and dark and cold. Leo scowled at the window and turned over, into the soft thing in front of him. It smelled like cheap citrus shampoo and the starchy detergent of the motel sheets. He risked opening one eye; Logan’s face was smushed up on one side while he snored quietly. Bedtime had been a rushed and fumbling affair of discarded bags and a halfhearted attempt at pajamas once they gave up on the pullout or any hope of a cot. Leo was just grateful for a mattress for his aching body.

In the faint light of passing cars, Leo sort of wished he had taken the time to see them both properly. Plane seats and Finn’s Toyota didn’t exactly lend themselves well to getting a fair look at his companions. Friends? Could he call them friends yet? He knew the names of their siblings and their favorite music—he knew Finn wore thick tortoiseshell glasses when he had to drive at night, and that Logan hummed under his breath when he thought they were both asleep. Those felt like things a friend would know.

Leo…Leo wasn’t all that good at friends, though. He was excellent with acquaintances. People tended to like him just fine. It was the depth that made him uncomfortable. There always came a point when he had to toe the line of just how honest he could be.

So he let himself look. If they weren’t going to be anything but ships in the night, there was no real harm. He remembered Logan’s frustrated grumble when he dug through his duffel and came up emptyhanded, but his shirtlessness hadn’t registered in Leo’s weary mind beyond warm person soft. The shadows caught on his rounded shoulder and slipped down his arm like spilt ink. He was tan even in the low light, with a few dark freckles splashed in odd places. Leo pillowed his head on his arms and followed the line of Logan’s torso with his eyes—he was just so nice to look at, like this. Comfortable and mostly-hidden under thick polyester, with none of his careful walls up.

Leo was so caught up in the glimpse of Logan’s abs that he nearly missed Finn’s hand. Wouldn’t that be a tragedy, he thought as he shifted closer to them both. Finn was mostly invisible between Logan’s broad body and the dark room, but he was pale enough to stand out where his forearm was slung over Logan’s hip. He was strong, too, but where Logan was thick and sturdy Finn seemed to have been stretched out. The blanket bumps of his legs and feet sat a solid three inches further down the bed than Logan’s—even his hand was bigger and more slender, long fingers twitching in his sleep.

Leo thought back to the subtle pin on Finn’s messenger bag and the way Logan had looked at them both in his quiet, careful way. If they asked, he knew what he’d say. Takes one to know one. Clocking them was easy, when he knew where to look (that, and their music taste). It probably wouldn’t come up. But if it did, he wouldn’t protest a phone number. Or two.

One of them made a quiet noise when Leo shuffled closer to wrest the blankets back over his shoulder. He closed his eyes and let the sounds of the highway lull him.

Two Hours

“JOLENE, JOLENE, JOLENE, JOLENE!” Leo hollered at the top of his lungs through his laughter.

“I’M BEGGIN’ OF YOU PLEASE DON’T TAKE MY MAN!” Finn shouted back, cranking up the stereo until Logan swore he felt the window rattle. He could see them in the rearview mirror, both rosy from singing and generally being rowdy idiots. He would never understand morning people.

“Did you text your sister yet?” Leo called over his shoulder.

“Can’t!” Logan answered. “You’re too loud!”

“It’s texting!”

“I can’t hear myself think!”

“Come on, Tremblay, lighten up!”

Logan meet Finn’s eyes in the mirror and fixed him with a look. “You don’t even like country music.”

“It’s Dolly Parton!”

“Mon dieu,” he muttered. The happy, fluttery thing that leapt in his chest when Leo whooped and stuck his head out the window like a dog was entirely unimportant. Finn had finally been banished to the passenger seat, leaving Logan with an unobstructed view of his profile. He had spent much of yesterday sneaking glances at Leo’s round jaw and button nose; memorizing the angles of Finn’s cheekbones and neck was equally fascinating. It was deeply unfair of the universe to put him in close quarters with two attractive strangers. It was even more unfair that he slept solidly through the night sandwiched between them.

Finn had been an adorable, stammering mess when they woke up cuddling. Logan hadn’t had the chance to say anything of substance before Leo woke and Finn hustled off to find breakfast, though that was probably for the best. He would inevitably end up saying something to make it worse.

“Ninety minutes from Gryff, baby!” Finn crowed as they crossed the border out of New York. His whole face was alight when he turned to look at Logan. “Told you I’d get us here faster than the plane!”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. New Yorker,” Leo teased.

Oh, no. Logan’s heart skipped a beat. There was that funny feeling again, right at his core, the one he hadn’t felt in so long it was nearly a dream. Finn’s exuberance was like watching the night sky explode into being before his very eyes. Leo’s smile was brighter than the sun on fresh-plowed snow.

This was going to be a problem. They were going to be a problem.

Five Thirty Minutes

We should keep each other’s numbers. Hey, do you want to keep each other’s numbers? Since we’re all here, do you want to grab lunch? Do you want to hang out? Do you want to meet my family? How do you feel about marriage?

“Either of you want a granola bar? I have a million of them.”

Logan looked amused, which Finn counted as a win compared to the studious staring he had been subjected to over the course of the morning. His dark curls fluffed out from beneath the sides of his hat. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Leo?”

“I’ve got lunch plans.” Leo’s smile was apologetic and more adorable than anyone had the right to be.

Alex’s block was coming up. Well, not Alex’s block, but the one he was frequenting more and more as the months passed until Finn had to check and make sure what city he was in before setting any plans. Two streets and they’d be at the apartment building.

Leo and Logan did not know that.

Leo and Logan were engaged in some sort of cross-console nonsense.

Leo and Logan were right there, happy and comfortable.

Finn turned his blinker on and took a left.

The End of the Road

“Attention, passengers, we have arrived at our destination.”

Logan snorted a laugh at Finn’s poor impression of their pilot. God almighty, Leo wanted to kiss the dimple on his cheek. The car came to a stop at the curb. He did not miss the way Finn’s hand lingered on the gearshift before moving to the emergency brake. He was already five minutes late for lunch. Part of him wanted Finn to knock the car right back into ‘drive’ in spite of what Regulus would surely say.

The car was quieter than it had been since the engine first rumbled to life, fifteen hours and a lifetime ago. They gathered their things from the wells and trunk and every corner of the seats. The snow was just starting to stick to the sidewalk, crunching under three pairs of sneakers before they came to a stop at the driver’s side. Finn scuffed his foot against the curb. Logan couldn’t quite meet either of their eyes.

“Well,” Leo said after a moment of silence. “Gimme your phones. I’m here for the next five days and don’t know shit about hell.”

Finn looked up with that crooked, endearing grin. “I’m pretty useless here.”

Logan half-shrugged. “Don’t look at me. I’m Canadian.”

Leo held his hand out expectantly; between one breath and the next, two phones sat in his palm. “Sounds like we’ll have to figure it out together.”

#finn o'hara #leo knut #logan tremblay #oknutzy #coast to coast #sweater weather #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #au #roadtrip #holidays #fluff

[wolfiemcwolferson]

hi logan!! 💖 i've got two song prompts for you, pick whichever one you feel like doing the mosttt

mastermind - taylor swift for galex or passenger seat - stephen speaks for piarles

Well, I went cuckoo over this prompt. Piarles - but of the girl variety.

They’re 12 miles outside of town when Charles reaches across the seat and slides her hand into Pierre’s.

It’s not like they need to hide while they’re home and it’s not like anyone would have seen the way they held hands over the console, but the ghosts of high school stay and it feels safer now.

Pierre doesn’t take her eyes off the road, but she does smiles wide enough that she knows Charles can see it.

“I figure we’ll get to the other side of Ft. Worth before we stop.”

Charles hums and fiddles with the knob on the radio and they’re quiet until they’re well out of the county.

Charles laughs - bright and beautiful and real and Pierre realizes she hasn’t heard her laugh like that in weeks.

.

Charles didn’t bring a car to Colorado so it’s always Pierre driving her everywhere. Not that she minds. Except in the spring when she’s traveling for games all the time and Charles is the one driving herself everywhere so when Pierre has one single night off at the last minute, she shows up at Charles’ dorm, knocking on the door until her roommate answers, eyeing Pierre suspiciously.

Pierre doesn’t think she’s homophobic, just weird. Quiet. Resentful of the late night phone calls when Pierre is in a different state.

“Wanna go for a drive, baby?” Pierre asks and Charles scrambles up off her bed at her voice, snagging Pierre’s keys and stuffing her feet into Vans that Pierre wrote her name on the bottom of last Christmas when she was visiting and Charles was a senior.

Charles reaches over as soon as Pierre starts the car, takes Pierre’s hand.

Pierre leans over to kiss her.

.

Pierre moves to Atlanta and Charles can’t go with her but she flies out as soon as she can. A red eye from Colorado and a red eye back less than 36 hours later, but Pierre shows her the locker room and they drive out to the suburbs for a team BBQ and Charles holds her hand from the airport doors to the airport doors and the whole time she smiles and Pierre counts the days in her head to the time when Charles will graduate.

.

Charles drives them home from the airport. Her car in long term parking - a bill that Pierre will happily pay with the endorsement money coming in.

“I’m sorry.” Charles says, voice barely audible as soon as they are on the highway.

Pierre slides her hand into Charles’. “Do you know I used to drive you around and think as long as I’ve got Charles in the passenger seat, I can do anything. I have everything I need.”

Charles’ breath catches.

“I still think that. World Championship or not. I still have you.”

“Yeah,” Charles sounds like she might cry again. “Yeah, I think I’m a good replacement for a World Championship.”

They both laugh.

Pierre knows she is though.

Which is why there’s a ring in the console of her car that’s parked in their garage at home.

That’s for their next drive though.

#Piarles #girl Piarles #I AM SO SORRY #pierre loses a world championship BUT DOES SHE REALLY

[anxiousgaypanicking]

The Fear Of Falling

Written For The Tss Storytime Big Bang, 2023 :) @tss-storytime

Logan is stoic, smart, and spending the summer before college with his grandparents, who’s traveling circus parks in their backyard for those months to rehearse new routines. While Logan is wary of the circus, and everything it encompasses, there’s a certain clown named Remus who goes out of his way to make him crack a smile. With just one summer, the two of them, and three months together, a lot is bound to happen.

Part One: Old Town Roads

Masterlist

The sound of a plane flying overhead makes Logan’s stomach churn; his knuckles turn white as he tight-fists the steering wheel. 

Being in a mostly rural area - with an airport about a half hour from the town he was heading towards - planes were a bit lower than normal, either as they took off from the airport, or prepared to land. 

He could have flown on one instead of driving the twelve hours straight through, but where would the fun in that be? Logan quite liked the dryness of his eyes paired with the cramping of his hands. An ache shot through his back; his posture had slipped somewhere between the fifth and sixth hours, but he persists despite the pain, not wanting to stop at some germ-ridden motel along the side of the road. 

Besides, a town was in view now. It had all been worth it. Sure, gas prices were rising and his mileage was going up, but he feels satisfied with himself. After all, multiple people - his parents, especially - repeatedly insisted that a plane would be easier, faster, and less stressful. 

Maybe for them. 

But as his hands had lingered over his computer keys, mouse hovering right over the purchase button of round-trip tickets, Logan couldn’t convince himself to push the button. And thus, driving was his only other option. 

Well, not only other option; he wasn’t obligated to visit his grandparents this summer, but it’d be a nice trip before college. Besides, he already spent the first few weeks of summer vacation at home! Doing little to nothing. He knew that once he was stuck in a dorm room where a frat party would take place in the building every other night, he’d miss the countryside. 

His car rolls down the road into a small town. A water tower stands proud in the distance, as minimal trees expose large plains and farmland; corn stands high, and beans hang low, and everything smells like dirt. 

Weirdly, it was wonderful. Logan forgets how dense and smoky the air in the city tastes. 

In the distance, further away from the majority of houses, was a large, domestic looking farmhouse. To the back of it was a small garden. Not big and extravagant as plenty of the other farms Logan had passed, just small and used for only the patrons of the house. But to the side of the building was the real eye-catcher; a sight Logan was unfortunately familiar with, and one that makes his gut twist upon seeing. 

Red and white fabric strung up to be miles above the ground, with three peaks, though the center one is the largest. It gives the illusion of a three-pointed tent, which is quite literally what it was. A big top. A circus tent. 

Logan swallows the spit in his mouth as he pulls his car up the gravel driveway to the front of the house, putting the vehicle into part, before shivering. 

He can’t bring himself to open the door right away. 

Breathe, he tells himself, setting a hand on his chest and feeling the rapid beating of his heart. You’re okay. You’re fine. Breathe. 

He sucks in a deep breath, fingers resting on the buttons to control the windows. Though he hesitates, he eventually rolls them up after a moment, and then takes a few minutes to fix his hair, which had been tussling with the wind. 

Then, he finally cracks the door open, and steps out. 

The air is clean, and a light breeze ruffles his clothes. The sun beats down on him - it’s nowhere near as hot as Florida, but it’s nice and warm, and makes Logan’s choice of a black turtleneck feel warranted. 

Grabbing his bags from the back - filled with his personal laptop and some clothes - he hops up the steps to the front door. Before he can knock however, it’s being swung open, the screen door in front of it being pushed immediately after and almost hitting Logan in the face. A plump, elderly woman with her hair tied back into a bun greets him. White streaks in her hair contrast with the dark black, and her blue eyes seem to shine as her arms stretch outwards, before closing around Logan tightly. 

“Mon bien-aimé!” she exclaims, affectionately. “You came to visit!” 

“I called Grandpa,” Logan says, stiffening at the firm hug. “I thought he would have told you I was on the way.” 

She leans in close to kiss the side of his cheek, but stops before her lips press against him, instead making the kissing noise about an inch and a half away. She then turns his face and does the same to the other cheek. 

“He did,” she states afterwards, smiling, “but I’m still excited. I haven’t seen my little Lo-corn in years!” 

“You would if you and Grandpa weren’t so busy traveling all the time.” Logan shoots a bitter look towards the circus tent, while Grandma looks towards it wistfully. “And my summers have been preoccupied with extra school and college applications.” 

“I suppose they have been, haven’t they,” Grandma utters, sympathetically. She then shakes her head slightly. “Your grandfather’s been very busy too. New routines need deciding and new acts need practice. It’s always work, work, work with him.” She leans forward to pinch Logan’s cheek, wiggling his head back and forth despite Logan’s scrunched up nose. “I suppose that’s where you get it from.” 

Logan pulls away from her, scoffing. “I guess technically, what we do is comparable, but what I do actually matters. A failing circus does not.” 

His grandma sighs through her nose, deflating a tad, but she doesn’t respond to Logan, instead just waving him inside. 

“Here. Come get your stuff unpacked. Hopefully by the time you're done, your grandpa will be done as well.” 

She closes the screen door behind him, but leaves the front door open, allowing a gentle breeze to drift through the house. Not a single light was flipped on, as the natural sunlight fluttering through the windows illuminated the area enough. Even as Logan follows Grandma up the stairs, he passes a row of windows all looking out towards the circus tent. 

His nose scrunches up again. 

He’s led to a scarcely decorated room with a closet, a dresser, and a nice bed with a soft blue comforter. It’s very home-y, but very barren. He tosses his bags on the bed, as Grandma smiles at him. 

“Feel free to come back down whenever you’re ready. I have some zucchini bread currently cooling on the windowsill. We got the wheat from the Vyuga’s - you remember the Vyuga’s, don’t you? Little Virgil has taken over manning the fields since his father passed. And the zucchinis are from our garden.” 

“That’s great, Grandma.” 

She sighs again, turning away partly as Logan doesn’t even look at her, focusing instead on unzipping his bag. He hears her footsteps softly patter down the stairs, which is when he finally glances over his shoulder, being met with the railing just outside of his door, and nothing more. 

He spends the next hour or so unpacking his few bags. He plugs his laptop in and sets it on the bedside table, and then hands his long-sleeved shirts in the closet. All of his pants, songs, underwear, and the few short sleeve shirts he brought are tucked into the empty drawers of the dresser. Each particular action fills him with a weird, heavy sense of nostalgia. He used to come every summer when he was little, but that eventually faded to being one or two summers in the past five years. Now, the idea of putting clothes in empty drawers reminds him of summers long past, where these drawers were also stocked with books, toys, and one or two stuffies that he sneakily hid so that he could sleep with them at night. 

Logan stares. Just clothes. 

He shuts the drawers, only filling two of them with stuff, while the other three remain empty. He then leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Leaning over the banister, he sees his grandma within the open kitchen, grabbing the zucchini bread from the windowsill and setting it on the table, carving it into thin, even slices. Despite it being cooled off, Logan catches a whiff of cinnamon and butter. It makes his stomach rumble. 

He casually heads downstairs, and towards his grandma, who’s already tearing away a paper towel for him. She sets a piece of bread on it, and hands it to him, offering him a butter knife and a small tub of unlabeled butter. 

“Cinnamon and honey infused,” she says, smiling. “Got it from a neighbor in exchange for a couple pans of rhubarb pie.” 

Logan accepts it with a small “thanks,” as he spreads the butter over his slice. 

When he looks back up though, Grandma is sliding him another slice, already buttered. When he looks at her, confused, she merely smiles. 

“For your grandpa.” 

Logan frowns immediately. “I don’t want to go to the tent.” 

“It’ll be quick,” Grandma urges, wrapping the bread slice up neatly in the napkin. “Just go say hi and let him know you got here safe. Maybe you’ll urge him away from his work for a bit. You’d think that after traveling all the time he’d want to relax at home a bit, but he’d rather stay busy!” She laughs as if she just told a joke, but she doesn’t seem that happy. 

Logan takes both pieces of bread, and leaves the house. 

He takes a large bite of his as he walks out towards the tent, and has to admit it tastes delicious. With his parents always working and his constant flood of school work, they hardly have time to bake. And when they do, it’s from a store-bought box. Not home-grown ingredients. But there was a distinct difference between products found in a store and those grown in your backyard. Logan finds the freshness more appealing. 

Cold air rushes over him as he nears the tent, being overwhelmed by cliche circus music as he nears the drawn fabric flaps marking the entrance, concealing him from the acts taking place inside. 

His hand hesitates against the cloth. He doesn’t want to go inside; he’d rather go back to the house and wait for his grandpa there. But alas, his grandma entrusted him to deliver her zucchini bread, and it shouldn’t take too long. 

Sucking in a deep breath, he pulls back the fabric, and steps inside the tent. 

Immediately, his senses are assaulted from all angles. There are multi-coloured acrobats swinging from trapeze bars, dancers in flapper dresses and repurposed leotards kicking their feet. Dancers and singers; clowns and magicians. 

Logan was at least glad Grandpa strayed away from having a freak show; it was the one respectable thing he’s done. 

Speaking of his Grandpa, there he stands, dressed in a casual sweater and slacks, but holding his arms outstretched as he practices leading said circus. He holds a cane in his left hand; if Logan didn’t know he needed it, he’d assume it was all part of the act. As an esteemed ringmaster, Grandpa moves with emotion and histrionic characterization, leaning one way, waving his arms the other. And as he spins on his pedestal, Logan can see the corners of his lips stretched into a wide grin. 

But when he spots Logan, he stumbles. 

“Logan!” 

“Hi, Grandpa,” Logan greets, as his grandfather waves the circus to a halt. Performers buzz with excited, exhilarated laughter and words, a few of them waving towards Logan, while most head opposite of him, and out a different part of the tent, presumably to their quarters. 

A clown lingers, looking between Logan and his grandpa, before running to catch up with the others. 

Grandpa hops off his pedestal, and hobbles towards Logan, cane crunching against the ground as he moves. 

He stretches his arms out for a hug, but unlike Logan’s willingness - or, more accurately, tolerance - for his grandma’s affection, he steps back to prevent his grandfather from touching him. There’s a twinge of hurt that crosses Grandpa’s face, but otherwise his arms fall to his sides. 

“How was the ride? Did you fly?” Grandpa asks, making Logan tense. 

Logan stands, aloof, itching to leave the tent. “Of course I didn’t. I told you I’d be driving.” 

Grandpa sighs. “Right. I forgot.” He forces a smile afterwards, reaching a hand out to clap Logan on the shoulder, which Logan does allow. “I’m glad you’re here though, kid. It’s nice to see you before you become some high-and-mighty CEO.” 

Logan scoffs, shaking his grandpa off. “I’m not going to school for business.” He seems to have calmed down a bit though, as his grandpa makes his way out of the tent, Logan following after. “I’m going for science. Biology, specifically.” 

The moment they’re out of the tent, Logan relaxes further. He hands the wrapped bread to his grandpa, who smiles as he takes it. 

He unwraps it as he and Logan make their way back to the house. Taking a bite, he nudges Logan’s shoulder. “Biology, eh? Back when you used to travel with me, you’d love to run around and pull up plants. We went all over the country, after all. Seems like that stuck with you into adulthood.” 

Grandpa swallows a larger bite of his bread, as Logan dabs his face with the paper towel he was given in order to wipe away stray crumbs. 

“You’re always free to come travel with us again, you know-” 

“No.” Logan’s eyes narrow as they make their way up the stairs onto the front porch. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.” He leaves no room for any attempted convincing, as he holds the door open for his grandfather, and then follows him inside. 

Grandma greets Grandpa with a kiss, and smiles dearly at Logan, urging them both to sit at the table as she pulls a casserole out of the oven. Still steaming, she sets it on the table, dipping a large spoon into it, and then passing out plates. Despite the warm feeling of a family dinner, there’s tension. 

Thick tension. One that hangs in the air as Logan and Grandpa avoid saying a word to each other for the rest of the dinner. 

#tssstorytimesubmission2023 #sanders sides #intrulogical #sanders sides fic #agp fic #the fear of falling #tss storytime 2023 #intrulogical fic

[morrisxn02]

ogden college (un)official class playlist ! if you already thought they needed therapy, wait until you see their designated taylor swift songs !

PART TWO: ogden college (taylor's version)

clean, from 1989 (taylor's version)・henrietta astor

"the drought was the very worst, when the flowers we'd grown together died of thirst. it was months and months of back and forth. you're still all over me, like a wine-stained dress i can't wear anymore."

peace, from folklore・reina azarolla

"but i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm. if you cascade, ocean wave blues come. all these people think love's for show, but i would die for you in secret."

picture to burn, from taylor swift・ida clarke

“there's no time for tears. i'm just sitting here planning my revenge. there's nothing stopping me from going out with all of your best friends. and if you come around saying you're sorry to me, my daddy's gonna show you how sorry you'll be..."

cowboy like me, from evermore・lincoln crawford 

"i've got some tricks up my sleeve. takes one to know one... you're a cowboy like me, never wanted love, just a fancy car... now i'm waiting by the phone, like i'm sitting in an airport bar. you had some tricks up your sleeve..."

carolina, from where the crawdads sing ost・nova dodson

"lost i was born, lonesome i came; lonesome i'll always stay. carolina knows why for years i roam free as these birds, light as whispers, carolina knows."

mastermind, from midnights・sassa fiske

"no one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so i've been scheming like a criminal ever since. to make them love me and make it seem effortless... this is the first time i felt the need to confess. and i swear, i'm only cryptic and machiavellian 'cause i care."

the last great american dynasty, from folklore・charlie fletcher 

“there goes the last great american dynasty. who knows, if she never showed up, what could have been? there goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen, she had a marvelous time ruining everything.” 

betty, from folklore・jesse hart 

“if you kiss me, will it be just like i dreamed it? will it patch your broken wings? i'm only seventeen. i don't know anything, but i know i miss you...”

this is me trying, from folklore・carmen hearst

"they told me all of my cages were mental, so i got wasted like all my potential. and my words shoot to kill when i'm mad. i have a lot of regrets about that... i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere. fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here..."

lavender haze, from midnights・ollie inoue

"talk your talk and go viral, i just need this love spiral. get it off your chest. get it off my desk. i feel the lavender haze creeping up on me. surreal. i'm damned if i do give a damn what people say."

only the young, from miss americana・mika ishii

“and the big, bad men, with their big bad plans, their hands all stained with red... oh, how quickly they forget. they aren't gonna help us. too busy helping themselves. they aren't gonna change this... we've got to do it ourselves!”

gold rush, from evermore・logan iyande

“i don't like anticipating my face in a red flush. i don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch. anybody wants you, but i don't like a gold rush. what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominos? my mind turns your life into folklore..."

a place in this world, from taylor swift・samantha jimenez 

"i'm alone, on my own, and it's all i know. i'll be strong, i'll be wrong. oh, but life goes on... i'm just a girl, trying to find a place in this world."

dorothea, from evermore・nixie linghui

“hey, dorothea, do you ever stop and think about me? when we were younger. down in the park, running, making a lark of our misery...”

nothing new (feat. phoebe bridgers), from red (taylor's version) ・ roxie marsh

“and my cheeks are growing tired of turning red and faking smiles. are we only biding time until i lose your attention? and someone else lights up the room... people love an ingénue.”

fearless, from fearless (taylor’s version) ・courtney mills

“we’re driving down the road, i wonder if you know i’m trying so hard not to get caught up now. but you’re just so cool, run your hands through your hair, absentmindedly making me want you.”

champagne problems, from evermore・cara morrison

"one for the money, two for the show, i never was ready, so i watched you go... sometimes you just don't know the answer until someone's on their knees and asks you. 'she would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head', they said."

evermore (feat. bon iver), from evermore・edward morrison 

"hey december, guess i'm feeling unmoored. can't remember what i used to fight for... i rewind the tape, but all it does is pause on the very moment i was lost sending signals to be double-crossed. and i was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter, catching my death."

no body no crime (feat. haim), from evermore・greer morrison

"they think she did it but they just can't prove it. she thinks i did it but she just can't prove it. oh, no body, no crime... i wasn't letting up until the day he died."

end game, from reputation・milo navarro

“i hit you like bang, we tried to forget it but we just couldn't and i bury hatchets, but i keep maps of where i put them. reputation precedes me, they told you i'm crazy. i swear i don't love the drama, it loves me.”

castles crumbling (feat. hailey williams), from speak now (taylor's version)・alethea pierce

“once i had an empire, in a golden age. i was held up so high, i used to be great... they used to cheer when they saw my face. now i fear i have fallen from grace."

dear reader, from midnights・lennon reed

"so i wander through these nights, i prefer hiding in plain sight. my fourth drink in my hand; these desperate prayers of a cursed man spilling out to you for free, but darling, darling, please. you wouldn't take my word for it if you knew who was talking..."

the archer, from lover・magnolia rhodes

"i've been the archer... i've been the prey. screaming 'who could ever leave me, darling?', but who could stay?”

the lakes - original version, from folklore・monty richler

"i want auroras and sad prose, i want to watch wisteria grow right over my bare feet, 'cause i haven't moved in years and i want you right here. take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die, i don't belong. and my beloved, neither do you..."

mad woman, from folklore・anya saetang

"what did you think i'd say to that? does a scorpion sting when fighting back? they strike to kill. and you know i will..."

forever winter, from red (taylor's version)・nathaniel shaw  

“he says he doesn't believe anything that he hears these days. he says 'why fall in love, just so you can watch it go away?' he spends most of his nights wishing it was how it used to be, he spends most of his flights getting pulled down by gravity." 

mirrorball, from folklore・natalia vega

"i'm still a believer, but i don't know why. i've never been a natural. all i do is try, try, try. but i'm still on that trapeze, i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me."

new romantics, from 1989 (taylor's version)・jacqui velazquez

“we need love, but all we want is danger. we team up and switch sides like a record-changer. the rumors are terrible and cruel, but honey, most of them are true."

wildest dreams, from 1989 (performed at the grammy museum)・parker walsh

"say you'll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset, babe. red lips and rosy cheeks... say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams..."

hey stephen, from fearless (taylor's version)・malik wright 

"i've seen it all, so i thought. but i've never seen nobody shine the way you do... the way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name... it's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change. hey stephen, why are people always leaving? i think you and i should stay the same..."

seven, from folklore・mari zuko

“and i've been meaning to tell you, i think your house is haunted. your dad is always mad and that must be why. and i think you should come live with me and we could be partners, and you won't have to cry, or hide in your closet..."

[v-as-in-victor]

This poll is for people who can comfortably walk for fifteen minutes without excessive fatigue or other ill effects.

Logan airport in Boston has moved its rideshare pickup to central parking. This can be a good ten minute walk from the arrival gate for someone with no injuries or health issues.

If you were arriving at Logan and planning on taking a rideshare and you found out that you can simply request accessible pickup, would you?

Assume that you are not traveling with someone who can’t comfortably do the walk.

No moral judgements, I’m just curious. (And honestly pleased that Logan has provided this option. Because I could live without it but not without additional pain.)

#accessibility #Watch it be 100% see results because this is the chronic suffering website #and we’re all in it together

[lily-janus]

Surprising The Surpriser

Summary: Roman tries to surprise his boyfriend at their annivesay when everything goes wrong... or does it?

Pairing: romantic Logince

Warnings: kissing, implied background character's ilness and that's it I think, be sure to let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 842

I finished another one! Hooray! For @loginceweek2023 day 4 - Winter

It's pretty short but still, hope you'll like it^^

----------------------------------------------------------

"Canceled?!" Roman called in distress as he saw what was written next to his flight on the big board at the airport.

He ran to the reception desk, nearly crashing into it and making the lady there jump.

"Can I help you, sir?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, please, I need to get to London-"

"I'm sorry but all flights to London have been suspended due to a snowstorm." She said calmly. "We apologize for the inconvenience-"

"Inconvenience?! You don't understand, I need to surprise my boyfriend for our anniversary-"

"That's very sweet but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." And that was that.

Roman slumped walking away from the reception desk and taking a seat on an empty bench.

What's he going to do? He had everything planned!

You should have checked the weather cast first, Roman.

He heard his boyfriend chastising him in his head. He chuckled fondly, shaking his head, that nerd.

Just then, as if his thoughts about him summoned him, he heard the familiar Star Wars theme from his phone. Logan was calling him.

Smiling, he took it out of his pocket and answered it. "Well if it isn't my favorite nerd."

"Hello, Roman-"

"Ahem." Roman corrected him lightly.

Logan sighed on the other side of the call. "Hello my favorite prince."

"That's better, hope the snowstorm out there isn't giving you a hard time." Roman grinned, even though Logan couldn't see it.

"It's not too bad- wait, how did you know there's a snowstorm here?" Logan asked.

"Ah… I looked at the weather forecast of course." He chuckled nervously.

"I see… you wouldn't mind if I video called you now, then?"

Roman cursed, he was onto him. "Heavens no! I have a bad hair day, you can't see me with bad hair on our anniversary!"

Logan chuckled. "You were planning on flying here didn't you?"

Roman sighed in defeat, still smiling. "Nothing gets past you, Sherlock."

"That's very sweet of you." Logan said.

"What can I say, I'm as sweet as can be." He did a little bow, forgetting they were on the phone and Logan didn't see that.

"I really appreciate it, Roman, I apologize for it not working out. May I suggest, next time-"

"Check the weather, I know, I know." Roman completed his sentence for him.

"We'll see each other soon, Roman, even if it's not on our anniversary, it's just a date after all." Logan pointed out.

"Yeah yeah, you're right, like always, guess I'll head back home then." Roman said, getting up and taking the handle of his suitcase in his free hand.

"Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?" Logan asked as he stepped outside and into the cold air.

Roman smiled softly. "You always know what I want."

There was a moment of comfortable silence as Roman got into his car and turned on the engine, waiting for a few moments for the car to warm up a little.

"...I miss you, Specs." He said as he put the car into gear.

"I miss you too, My Prince." Logan said through the speaker.

"I should have gone with you from the start." Roman admitted. "How's she doing?"

"My mom's doing fine, Roman, we discussed this, there's no need for you to leave your life behind for this, you have entire shows depending on you." Logan reassured him, like he knew he would.

"You're everything I need in life, Lo, screw everything else." Roman said earnestly.

"You also need income, and food, and water and-"

"You know what I mean, nerd." Roman chuckled.

"Perhaps I do, I love you too, Ro. I'll be home soon."

"Can soon be now?" Roman joked as he parked the car, killing the engine and locking it. Suitcase in one hand, phone in the other, he started heading to their apartment.

"...perhaps." Logan said again when Roman was at the door, he could have sworn he heard an echo, as if… Logan himself was close by.

His eyes widened and he pushed the door open, stopping in his tracks.

The entire floor was full of rose petals. A big sign with lots of hearts that said 'happy anniversary' hangs from the ceiling and beneath it…

Roman dropped his suitcase, crushing his boyfriend with a tight hug, not believing he's actually here.

"Someone's happy to see me." Logan said, a bit smugly.

"You bastard, I love you so much, don't ever do this to me again." He broke apart from him a little, cupping his face in his hands before kissing him deeply.

"Really happy to see me." Logan said when they catched their breath.

"Shut up, how did you even get here?" Roman blushed, smiling.

"Well I checked the weather and got on a flight before the storm." Logan explained.

"Heh rub it in my face, why don't you."

"I believe that is what I was doing." Logan said with a hint of teasing.

"Nerd."

"Prep."

Roman smiled. "Happy anniversary, love."

Logan smiled back. "Happy anniversary, dear."

#sanders sides #logan sanders #roman sanders #loginceweek2023 #loginceweek2023 day 4 #Winter #romantic logince #cw kissing #tw implied ilness #Lily writes

[syfyhq]

FCS MISSING FROM MANIFEST   ─

alaqua cox, jordan alexander, thomas weatherall, dilraba dilmurat, morningstar angeline, tasia zalar,  hailie sahar, ricky whittle, kiowa gordon, brian michael smith, zion moreno, sidharth malhotra, ming na wen, ivory aquino, jana schmieding, cody christian, gabourey sidibe, laith ashley, melisa dongel, shraddha kapoor, amber midthunder, daniel ezra, serkan cayoglu, & ariela barer !

MISSED CONNECTIONS AT THE AIRPORT   ─

⌱   SCOTT CINCO (joshua alvarez), is looking for their COUSIN (OR FRIEND). they might look like CHELLA MAN, EVAN MOCK, JANE DE LEON, JANELLA SALVADOR, POC/UTP (EITHER OF HAN CHINESE OR BISAYA FILIPINO HERITAGE IF RELATED TO SCOTT).  ⌱   ARIEL CAO (zu’er song), is looking for their RESEARCH PARTNER(S). they might look like TARAJI P. HENSON, GONG YOO, MAHERSHALA ALI, T'NIA MILLER, UTP. ⌱   ATHENA HOWARD (nathalie emmanuel), is looking for their   COWORKER. they might look like LAITH ASHLEY, TENOCH HUERTA, RAHUL KOHLI, ANGELICA ROSS, EMMY RAVER-LAMPMAN. ⌱   SCOTT CINCO (joshua alvarez), is looking for their EX-GIRLFRIEND. they might look like YARA SHAHIDI, LAURA KARIUKI, AULI'I CRAVALHO, ANNA LAMBE, REBECCA ABLACK, WOC/UTP.  ⌱   ALEJANDRO FLORES (danny ramierz), is looking for their BEST FRIEND. they might look like UTP THOUGH FC OF COLOR PREFERRED.  ⌱   RILEY SANCHEZ (sivan alyra rose), is looking for their HIGH SCHOOL TRACK AND FIELD FRIEND WHO THEY LIVED WITH AFTER THEIR GRANDFATHER DIED. they might look like JENNA CLAUSE, CELESTE O’CONNOR, LIZETH SELENE, MYRA MOLLOY, LOVIE SIMONE, OR POC/UTP.  ⌱   AMIE JALLOW (yandeh sallah), is looking for their GIRLFRIEND (MISS USA 1999). they might look like AULI’I CRAVALHO, JOSIE TOTAH, QUEI TANN, WILLOW ALLEN, SALEM MITCHELL, UTP/WOC. ⌱  LOGAN TAYLOR (erana james), is looking for their ROMANTIC PARTNER. they might look like MIA HEALEY, SAMANTHA LOGAN, MEDALION RAHIMI, SIERRA MCCORMICK, UTP. ⌱   NICHOLE HERMOSO (morgan holmstrom), is looking for their EX- ROMANTIC PARTNER. they might look like AASON NADJIWON, AMBER MIDTHUNDER, MICHAELA JAÉ RODRIGUEZ, T'ÁNCHÁY REDVERS, JAKE ZYRUS, OR POC/UTP. 

PURCHASE YOUR TICKET TODAY   ─

⌱   SYFYHQ is an 18+ ( mun/muse ) adventure survival horror tumblr roleplay inspired by jurassic park, lost, sweetheart, the wilds, & other survival media. this roleplay will explore different mysteries & various creatures while muses are stuck on a deserted island. the story begins with a plane crashing into the pacific ocean during the turn of the millennium and will only get wilder  !  

THE MAIN ⌱ JOIN THE BUZZ ⌱ WANTED CONNECTIONS

#appless rp #science fiction rp #fantasy rp #mumu rp #active rp #horror rp #oc rp #original rp #lgbtq rp #queer rp #rpc #syfy.mw #syfy.talk

[disneyprincemuke]

our spot, 2 * ls2

it’s about two weeks since you last saw logan and you find him sitting all alone in the dark

pairings: logan sargeant x fem!reader

warnings: logan is the warning idk

notes: i know it took me forever to write this subpar ass second part but like- i kinda like it because i'm bad with resolutions and making up (i'm single)

also i'd like to have a word with whoever made this gif because it's like so disrespectful like he is so fine why would u do this?

(f1 masterlist)

(prev)

“you’re growing up too fast,” your mother had said to you earlier after you finished packing the last of your boxes. the boxes that would be sent off to new york in a couple of days before you head out right before new year’s.

thankfully, your family agreed on flying over with you to spend the holiday with you. you had spent weeks and months rethinking the choice of your relocation; if you could handle being away from your family.

your father insisted you explore the world without them by your side and you took up the offer. you'd broken up with the guy you were seeing a couple of days ago.

while you had your doubts about where your relationship was going, there was no denying the amount of time you'd spent together. it still stung you quite a little bit to up and leave him. he had asked you if there was any way to make it work, but you couldn't get yourself to say anything.

so, he pulled you in for a hug and wished you well. and then you left, tearing up very slightly on the drive home alone.

it would be nice to start fresh in a new place. your last conversation convincing you to pick up the pieces of yourself and start moving on for real.

though, it seems it would take forever to do that. you hadn’t only lost a romantic connection when you lost logan, but also your best friend.

the first person you called when you crashed your car on the highway when you were 17, the person who stood up to the girl who made fun of you when you were 9, and the only one who knew you better than you knew yourself.

so here you are at 3 in the morning walking the quiet streets of your small town with your hands in the pockets of your sweater. you try to stifle the sniffle that escapes you, having spent the past couple of hours in tears at the thought of leaving behind everything you’ve ever known.

packing up and spending months in new york, then indefinitely in germany made you a nervous wreck. though the company you’re working for has arranged everything for you from the airport pickup to the apartment estate you’ll be spending your days in.

when you left your house, you glanced across the street to disappointment. logan’s truck isn’t parked on the street and his room had its blinds drawn — the way it’s been since you last saw him.

when you first got the promotion, you almost picked up your phone to text logan. but the heavy weight of guilt made you hit erase and put your phone down after a second.

even when you had graduated about 6 months after cutting contact, you wanted so bad to send him a photo of you and your degree together. but, there was something so embarrassing about reaching out and starting a conversation like nothing had happened.

you posted it on your instagram stories, reposting every single tagged picture for days after to hopefully prompt a message of congratulations from logan. but he didn’t bite.

it made you wonder if you’ve truly made a mistake suddenly cutting him off.

you sigh, making a sharp turn after you pass the school. there’s a dark figure up ahead on the playground that makes you question if it’s a mistake that you’ve come here so late at night.

but it’s a relatively safe gated community. you press your lips together as you approach, your breath hitching in your throat when you’re finally able to make out the man sitting at the end of the slide.

“fancy seeing you here,” logan mumbles, throwing the pieces of rubber from the playground floor into the ground. “it’s late.”

“yeah, i just finished packing,” you answer under your breath, passing him to sit at the edge of another slide. “just needed to do some thinking. didn’t expect you’d be here.”

logan grins to himself with a soft chuckle. “yeah, i’m sorry for intruding.”

you hadn’t been here since you last asked him to come here and see you. in fact, prior to that meetup, you’d only been here a total of 5 times since you last talked.

it reminded you too much of the memories you shared with him growing up.

you lie back in the comfort of the slide. “don’t worry about it. i don’t come here often,” you smile to yourself as you confess. "not anymore."

"i can tell," logan mutters. "i've been here every night since you texted me."

"oh." you take a deep breath, not knowing if you'd like the answer to your question. "what for?"

"thinking real hard," he says just barely above a whisper. he turns to you with a small smile. "i was thinking about you. and germany... and how close it is to me."

your breath hitches. you won't admit to him, but you accepted the offer to move to germany to at least be remotely close to him. or to at least convince him to give your relationship a shot.

you've been apart for years. the only way you got to spend time together back then was if you'd make the effort to visit him in the uk, or if he had the time to fly back home. it was difficult to keep finding ways to make the relationship last.

you had to pretend for a while that you never had to end it. but you knew in your heart two years ago that it cannot keep going on like this. you cried and cried every single time at the airport when he would have to leave you behind in this small town.

you knew his mother mentioned to him about the guy you were seeing. because your mother came to you asking questions about the mysterious guy you never even told her about.

every night after that, you thought about calling logan to explain yourself; that it's not what he thinks it is. but were you really in the position where you had to explain yourself?

"i do love you," he says, picking at the rubber grit once more to avoid your stare. "but the long-distance... barely seeing each other for months on end... it was hard. i couldn't give you what a normal guy would. i couldn't keep making you wait around for nothing."

"but that's not up to you to decide," you say slowly, hoping that he would understand where you came from. "it's unfair. i was willing to go through all of that with you. we've been through so much together."

"i didn't want to risk losing you over something like that," logan sighs, looking up at you in despair. there's a sadness in his eyes that you've never seen before. "it was lonely without you. you're my best friend - losing you over something different entirely was devastating. i didn't have anybody else."

you shake your head, unsure of what to say to him. it was lonely for you when you cut him off. you went from communicating everyday to only catching glimpses of his life on tv, instagram and media news sites.

every single achievement you had, you thought about calling him and hearing his proud voice. but you couldn't fully back yourself on the fact that you broke your own heart because he wanted to keep you around.

"i thought of you every single day," logan says. "i'm sorry. i know you've got a boyfriend and i'm sure he's great, but-"

"i told you," you laugh dryly, throwing your head back. "if you just tell me right now... i'll be all yours."

"but i can't do that to somebody else," logan frowns with a shake of his head. he's contemplated a lot over the past couple of days. how appealing your proposal sounds to him, but the fact that you're still seeing somebody has been making him hesitate. "you know what that means."

you press your lips together. logan's always made sure that he was as morally right as much as he could with his decisions. you sigh, a small hesitant smile stretching your lips. "we broke up."

"what?"

"i broke up with him a couple days ago," you whisper, dropping your eyes to avoid his questioning stare. "i just wanted to go to germany with a fresh start."

logan doesn't say anything immediately. and you don't follow up your confession with anything either. so you look up into the sky as you sway your feet left and right as you try to count the stars that illuminate the night sky. your heart pounds in your chest as you anticipate what he will say next.

and you know he's still there, thinking hard because you can still see his shadow against the playground flooring.

"stay the night," he says softly.

you sit up, both of your hands gripping the sides of the slide as you turn to look at him. "what did you just say?"

"come home with me and then let's talk about it," logan smiles, though he still looks just as tired as before. "let's figure it out, you and me; germany. let me make this right."

"you idiot," you laugh, tears falling out of your eyes again as you have another outburst. "logan."

"wait, why are you crying?" his voice is soft and laced with shock, hands held out towards your body. "i thought this was what you wanted? did i cross a line? i'm sorry."

"no, i just," you cry, wiping the tears from your face. "god, i just missed you so much. i'm sorry. it's not you."

he's now gotten up from his seat. he's knelt down next to the slide you're sitting in, trying to reach out and touch your arm. "i'm sorry. i'm sorry it took me this long." his thumbs swipe over your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "please don't cry anymore."

@thatgirlmj @lfm98 @gentlyweeps-world @ladywhistledownx @charli123456789 @lightdragonrayne @k-pevensie28 @angsthology

#logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x fem!reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 #f1 x y/n #logan sargeant x y/n #formula 1 #formula 1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargeant fanfiction #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

[runwayrunway]

A New England Planespotter In...England (And Scotland)

So I've just gotten back from two weeks in London, almost directly beneath one of the arrival paths to Heathrow. One weird thing about being in London was that...my home airport, Logan, is big, sure, lots of international flights, but it's weird in that it's only a hub for three airlines, one of which is domestic. Being sandwiched between NYC and Newark does that to a place. So we get a pretty small selection of airlines here, all things considered.

Heathrow? Literally while taxiing from the runway to the gate I saw us go past an Air Mauritius and a Royal Brunei Airlines plane (and I didn't have my camera out to take a picture!). On the way out on my way home I saw a RwandAir plane (and it was at an angle behind me where I couldn't get a picture of it either!). I saw multiple A380s a day from British Airways and Singapore Airlines, and even a 747 flying for Korean Air Cargo went overhead! (747s never fly to Logan.) I saw THAI, Air India, TAROM, Air Serbia, and the full complement of gulf carriers - which I expected - and China Southern Airlines, which I somehow didn't.

Hey, wait, is that tailfin...

There she is! (I was so happy to see her that I think I startled the person sitting next to me.)

There were of course the usual faces as well - Delta, American Airlines, and even JetBlue now flies to London. I didn't see any full-size FedEx planes, but I did see a FedEx Feeder ATR 72 (at least I think it's a 72) at Edinburgh Airport.

(she was quite far away and the image is inevitably very crunchy)

A few other cargo airlines more typical of Europe were parked nearby her - DHL, Maersk Air Cargo (in the old Star Air livery), West Atlantic, and whoever that is at the end - the livery feels so familiar, actually, but there's no wordmark and half of me thinks it's a wet lease that hasn't been painted. If anyone remembers what's on the tip of my tongue, please do tell me.

While entirely expected, I also enjoyed seeing little Loganair ERJs around in Edinburgh. They're so short! I was arriving in an A320 and even then I had to wait until I was on the ground to take a decent picture that wasn't half cut off by the plane I was actually in.

I don't know enough about Loganair's routes to know what they actually fly to Edinburgh, but a tiny part of me was sad I didn't see any of their littler prop planes. I have a huge soft spot for the Britten-Norman Islander, the first prop plane I ever got to fly on, which Loganair operates two of. Among their uses in the fleet is operating the shortest scheduled route in the world, which lasts around a minute and is about as long as the runway I landed on when I took all those pictures. I won't pretend it's not on my bucket list. (To be fair, I am also legitimately interested in the archaeological sites on Papa Westray...just maybe not interested enough to take a longer flight to see them.)

These aren't all the airlines I saw, but the rest I'm saving for other days and other posts. Still, there is one more type of airplane I saw which I think I have never actually seen in Massachusetts. When I was at Edinburgh I heard this bizarre loud thing that sounded like nothing I'd ever heard before and looked up and saw what I thought was a C-130. Then I realized it was actually an A400M with its weird scimitar propellers. As far as I'm aware this is the first airlift plane I've seen in person that wasn't a static display and it's definitely the first plane I've seen that sounds like that. I also got to see my first ever helicopter that wasn't a tiny little general aviation thing in the form of a Chinook going right over my head at...really not that high, but it didn't have its transponder on so I couldn't tell you more exactly. Is that a thing in London? Airplane-sized military helicopters at low heights over populated areas with their transponders off? I don't remember ever seeing that before but I suppose it has been a while. It was very, very strange.

And that's a non-exhaustive list of the things you just don't get to see in Boston! I will definitely talk about some of these airlines in full someday, but some of them I probably won't. I at least had a lot of fun pointing at airplanes and going "wow...".

#off-duty #runway runway travelogues #polairoids #loganair #fedex #srilankan airlines #dhl #maersk air cargo #west atlantic uk #west atlantic airlines #star air (denmark)