#airline first class cabins

[justposting1]

Is Flying First Class Worth It? A Breakdown of Costs, Comfort, and Perks

Unveiling the World of First-Class Air Travel: Is It Worth the Price? Perks, Costs, and Insider Tips You Need to Know Is Flying First Class Worth It? A Breakdown of Costs, Comfort, and Perks For many, the idea of flying first class evokes images of ultimate luxury—spacious seats, gourmet meals, and a travel experience that feels more like a five-star hotel than a plane ride. But with ticket…

[thedesignair]

SWISS is latest airline to launch new cabins from Lufthansa's Allegris product - but the Swiss touch changes the cabin entirely.

It may not be first to the punch, but following on Lufthansa’s coattails, Swiss has revealed its own personalised ‘SWISS Senses’ air travel experience from 2025 onwards utilising exactly the same hardware as sister carrier Lufthansa. The centrepiece of the new customer product is a redesigned cabin for the airline’s long-haul aircraft fleet, which was unveiled to the public today. SWISS First,…

[xoxojuyo]

Out of reach pt.1 - jungkook

𐙚 summary: you meet the man of your dreams during a flight, but he seems to be out of reach…

𐙚 pairing: lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count: 1,8k words

𐙚 warnings: jungkook is older than reader, they get very comfy with each other super quick, hold ing hands, kissing, jungkook has a gf, infidelity

𐙚 a/n: this is meant to be a series, it’ll get filthy in the future. Hope you enjoy it 🤍

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the air as you settled into your seat in the first-class cabin of Flight KE902 from Paris to Incheon. You tucked your Hermès blanket neatly around your lap, ready for the long journey home. The lavish seat next to you was meant to remain vacant—an indulgence your parents had arranged for your privacy. After all, the daughter of South Korea’s leading pharmaceutical magnates and Cartier’s latest muse wasn’t accustomed to sharing space, much less during a 12-hour flight.

You glanced out the window, watching the Paris night fade into streaks of neon blue runway lights. You had just begun flipping through the latest issue of Vogue when a deep, polite voice interrupted your tranquility.

“Excuse me, miss. It seems this is my seat.”

You looked up, momentarily caught off guard. A man stood before you, tall and striking, with features so sharp they might have been carved from marble. His tailored suit spoke of understated luxury, and the faint shadow of a smile hinted at an effortless charm.

“There must be a mistake,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “This seat wasn’t supposed to be occupied.”

The flight attendant quickly stepped in, bowing apologetically. “Ms. Choi, I’m terribly sorry. This is Mr. Jeon Jungkook, one of our Diamond members. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to reassign this seat to accommodate him. I assure you it won’t affect your experience.”

You hesitated, your mind whirring. Jeon Jungkook? The name sounded familiar, but before you could piece it together, he spoke again.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Jungkook said, his tone professional yet warm. “I’ll do my best not to intrude.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Jeon Jungkook? The lawyer?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a modest nod. “I see my reputation precedes me. And you must be Choi Y/N. I’ve read about you in Forbes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You read Forbes?”

“I do my homework,” he replied, settling into the seat beside you. “It’s useful to know the people shaping the world around me.”

You couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning back. “But who said I was trying to flatter you?”

The tension melted into a curious ease as the plane taxied for takeoff. As the flight attendants began their safety demonstration, Jungkook turned to you.

“Paris, huh? Business or pleasure?”

“An event with Cartier,” you replied, your voice laced with practiced grace. “And you?”

“Business, mostly. Though I was hoping for some pleasure before a client emergency pulled me back.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets flustered by emergencies.”

“I don’t. But I’ve learned that flying halfway across the world is part of the job description,” he said with a rueful smile. “And you? Flying solo?”

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s… just a preference of mine.”

Jungkook chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Let’s just say the airline played matchmaker tonight.”

You smirked, feeling the ice between you dissolve. “A bold assumption, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said. “If we’re stuck together for the next 12 hours, we might as well get comfortable.”

As the plane ascended into the midnight sky, the cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. You adjusted the recline of your seat, sneaking a glance at Jungkook as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He caught you looking and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Long flight ahead,” he said. “What’s your go-to in-flight entertainment? Movies? Reading? Sleeping?”

“None,” you replied, crossing your legs elegantly. “I usually work or… just stare out the window.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Workaholic?”

“Efficient,” you corrected, your lips curving into a small smirk. “What about you?”

“Depends on the company,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but masked it with a soft laugh. “And here I thought lawyers were all business.”

“We are,” he admitted. “But even we need a break every now and then. Maybe this is mine.”

You talked intermittently for the next hour, the conversation flowing effortlessly from topics like your favorite cities to your least favorite airline meals. Jungkook’s laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days.

At one point, the flight attendant approached with the dinner menu. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, gestured for you to choose first.

“The lobster risotto.”

“Good choice,” Jungkook said, handing his menu back. “I’ll have the same. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

“You’re copying me?” you teased.

“Or I trust your taste,” he countered smoothly.

As the hours passed, your initial formality faded into a comfortable camaraderie. After dinner, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, glancing at the champagne flute in your hand.

“Celebrating something?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said, swirling the golden liquid. “It’s not every day you survive a Cartier event without collapsing from exhaustion.”

“Impressive,” he said, lifting his own glass in a mock toast. “To surviving the glamorous life.”

“And to lawyers who manage to look good while working too hard,” you quipped.

You clinked glasses, your eyes locking briefly. You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading in your chest that had nothing to do with the champagne.

By the time the plane was over Siberia, the cabin had grown quiet. Most passengers were asleep, but you and Jungkook were wide awake, leaning toward each other as you whispered.

“So, what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to Seoul?” Jungkook asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Probably dinner with my dads,” you said. “We have this tradition where our chef cooks my favorite meal whenever I come back from a trip.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, his expression genuinely interested. “What’s the dish?”

“Kimchi jjigae, with extra tofu,” you said. “And you? What’s the first thing you’ll do?”

“Go straight to the office,” he said with a wry grin. “Not as exciting, huh?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. Something about you being so dedicated is… admirable.”

Your gazes lingered, the silence between you charged with an unspoken tension. Jungkook reached for the blanket draped over his seat and, without a word, tucked it around your shoulders.

“You looked cold,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

It felt natural when your hands brushed against each other on the armrest. Neither pulled away, and moments later, Jungkook laced his fingers gently with yours.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

“Maybe it’s the altitude,” he joked, though his voice was soft, sincere. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Your heart raced as you looked down at your entwined hands. “Do you always move this fast, Jungkook?”

“Only when it feels right,” he said, his eyes meeting yours.

You and Jungkook were still wrapped in each other’s warmth, your voices a murmur as you traded soft laughs and tender glances. His hand rested over yours, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

But then, Jungkook’s phone buzzed against the tray table. His expression stiffened as he glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need to take this,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You frowned slightly, sensing the shift in his mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his tone didn’t quite match his words. “It’s work. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stood and slipped toward the bathroom, phone in hand. You watched him go, a strange unease settling in your chest.

Inside the restroom, Jungkook answered the FaceTime call. The face of a woman appeared on the screen.

“Jungkook,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was worried when you didn’t answer earlier. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone measured. “Just caught up with work.”

The woman smiled faintly. “I can’t wait to see you. We have so much to talk about.”

He forced a small smile. “Me too.”

The call ended, and Jungkook stared at his reflection in the mirror, his expression conflicted. He lingered for a moment before returning to his seat.

You looked up as he sat down, your eyes scanning his face. “Everything alright?”

Jungkook hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Y/N… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach tightened. “What is it?”

He exhaled deeply, unable to meet your gaze. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind. You blinked, processing, before narrowing your eyes. “What?!”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But I can’t ignore how… how good it felt to be with you tonight.”

Your jaw tightened. “So you just conveniently forgot about her while holding my hand and—” you stopped, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

You turned away, staring out the window as anger and hurt bubbled inside you. But even as the rational part of you screamed to push him away, your heart ached to stay close.

“Don’t say another word,” you said, turning back to him. “For the next hour, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Just… don’t ruin this.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “Y/N—”

“Shh,” you interrupted, leaning closer. Your hands found his, and despite the anger simmering beneath your skin, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world outside the plane shrinking away. Then, almost without thinking, you tilted your face up toward his. Your lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss that deepened as you clung to each other, as if trying to capture something fleeting.

~

The announcement of your descent broke the spell. As you disembarked and retrieved your bags, an awkward silence stretched between you. Jungkook carried your carry-on for you as you walked toward the airport exit.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the middle of the terminal.

“For what?” You asked, your tone sharp. “For kissing me? For holding my hand? Or for confessing you have a girlfriend after letting things get this far?”

“All of it,” Jungkook said, his eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitched. “Then why can’t we—”

“Because I can’t walk out on her like that,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with guilt. “It wouldn’t be right.”

You stared at him, anger and heartbreak warring within you. “And what about me? It’s okay to just walk out on me like nothing happened?”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry y/n, If destiny brings us together again, I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

You stood frozen, your hands clutching the strap of your bag as your mind raced. You were furious, confused, and utterly disappointed. Yet, beneath it all, a part of you longed for the man who had just walked out of your life.

[natalieironside]

For the longest time I didn't understand the overdone meta-joke about comedians "always" mocking airline food. I didn't know there was airline food. I have Learned.

Back in October I took a little trip to Seattle to see my girlfriend, and I got to fly first class cuz the stars had briefly aligned and they had a bit of windfall. Never done that before. If I'm ever called upon to do it again, I'll have to spend some time preparing my mental and physical fortitude.

So at first everything is going swell, I'm living it up in my big-ass seat like some sort of child emperor, and then about half an hour into the whole song and dance a flight attendant comes by and tries to hand me a menu. Bemused, I sez, ". . . No, thanks?" and I could tell by the look on his face I had failed to keep the tremor of fear out of my voice.

He goes to the front of the cabin and opens up this, like, reliquary, and the entire airplane instantly reeks like rotten dog farts. This state of affairs will remain unchanged for the next 6 consecutive hours. The reliquary contains trays of what appears to be embalmed hospital food of some sort, and the trays are distributed out to those fools who asked for them, one of whom was sitting next to me. The smell of dog farts is overpowering, now accompanied by the cacophonous racket of Chewing.

I buried my face in my tits, shut my eyes, and tried to pay attention to my book on tape. I'd been working my way through Paradise Lost and there in my own little Pandemonium I decided this Satan dude makes some damn compelling arguments and y'know maybe if I'd chosen hard liberty over the easy yoke of pampered servitude maybe things woulda been different

[agustdiv1ne]

⋆｡˚ ✈︎ 9:05 p.m. (m) — choi yeonjun

genre: nsfw so mdni, boyfriend!yeonjun, switch!yeonjun, plane sex 😵‍💫

wc: 1.6k

part 2

your left leg is shaking.

at the moment, you should be fast asleep, basking in the comfort (and astonishing amount of leg room) that a first class airline seat could provide. however, you remain wide awake, not an inkling of fatigue in sight. you have exhausted nearly all options of distraction, leaving you to pick at your nails and stare off into space, thoughts racing through your head at the speed of light.

and it's all your boyfriend’s fault — him, and his fucking tank top.

you would usually be fine — you have always adored yeonjun's fashion sense — but it isn't just a normal tank top; no, it clings to his lithe body, the dark fabric defining his pecs and accentuating his pretty little waist. the lack of sleeves only serve to make things worse for you, the well-developed muscles of his biceps flexing as he shifts his position in his seat next to you. you didn't even know he was wearing it until he took off his denim jacket to go through tsa. that was more than four hours ago, yet you still feel a little hot under the collar.

a deep, quiet groan meets your ears, a small sigh following moments after as yeonjun stretches, arching his back before slumping back against his seat. now awakened from his small nap, you notice from your peripherals how he focuses on your quaking leg, but you flinch anyway when his hand moves to squeeze the meat of your thigh. your leg stills. swiveling your head, you meet his lethargic gaze, a glint of concern shining through the fatigue.

“you okay, baby?” the words rumble from deep within his chest, voice drenched in molasses, slow and smooth and oh so sweet to your ears. the sound ignites a carnal fire in your stomach. your mind sings a siren song to give into your desires, to just do something about them, already. instead, you nod with a hushed hum, sending him a small, tight-lipped smile that you hope he can’t see through. he grins, surging forward to press a quick peck to your lips before settling down to busy himself with his phone. you sigh in relief as his hand removes itself from your thigh.

you feel as if you are about to implode as you scan the dim cabin, lights off so as to allow passengers to sleep through the long flight. the two people sitting across the aisle are doing just that, sound asleep, their heads leaned back against their seats. with another cursory glance around, you find that most people are sleeping; the only person who is awake around you is a businessman one row behind you, though he wears chunky headphones that you assume are noise canceling.

conflict brews within you. sure, you and yeonjun have talked about exploring exhibitionism, and both of you have voiced your inclination for it — but you're unsure if this is the right place to test out this shared desire. something about the close proximity of the other passengers is a little nerve-wracking, but in a way, the idea of ruining your boyfriend while surrounded by others causes adrenaline to race through your veins. even then, if yeonjun decides that he does not want to, then he could simply use your mutual safeword and all would be over.

making your decision, you slip your hand underneath the jacket on his lap and place it on top of his knee, squeezing lightly. he pauses for a moment, tilting his head, but ultimately goes back to his phone, likely playing some game. you remain in that same position for a few minutes, rubbing your thumb against the smooth skin. slowly, you trail your hand up further and further, stopping only once it rests against his sensitive inner thigh. pinky swiping back and forth, you feel him squirm away your touch, and you grip a little harder. yeonjun's soft lips part slightly, eyes round and wide as he peeks over at you.

“baby,” he whispers, trying not to whine as you glide your hand up a little more, dangerously close to his his hardening cock. he gasps when one of your fingers tickles the seam of his shorts, hands gripping the tanned leather of the armrests with whitened knuckles. “baby, what—”

“shhh, jjunie. be a good boy for me, yeah?” you coo, voice hushed as you lean closer, warm breath curling around his ear. 

he shivers, biting his lips as you palm his now fully erect dick over his clothes. you check in with him quietly, asking if this is alright, and he nods, sliding down his seat to allow you better access. you grin.

still hidden by the jacket on his lap, you shove your hand underneath the waistband of his shorts and boxers, curling your hand around him. he jumps in his seat at the sensation of you finally touching him where he needs you most, and you pause, shooting him a raised eyebrow before you look around. everyone is still asleep, or, at least, too preoccupied to notice what is transpiring just below their noses.

turning back to him, you whisper praises as you begin to pump his aching cock, thumb dipping into the slit of his head to spread the precum that's gathered there. your hand takes up a leisurely pace, slowly slicking up as he leaks even more precum. trailing your eyes up to his face, you find a beautiful sight: brows furrowed, eyes squeezed shut, and his bottom lip bitten to absolute hell to muffle his desperate pants. a little squeak eacapes him when you squeeze a bit harder, increasing your pace.

“quiet, baby, or do you wanna get caught?” you question with a challenging smirk. while he responds with a rapid shake of his head, you feel his cock twitch against your palm. you shake your head, movements growing more rapid, as mock dissapointment laces your tone. “don’t lie to me. i bet you’d love to have this whole plane watch as i touch you, hm? ‘m sure you’d love the attention.”

“n-no, only want your, your attention,” he stutters, breathing heavily through his nose. the muscles in his abdomen contract as you continue, squriming more in his seat. his face is now buried in his hands, his face splattered with fiery crimson that you can easily pick out despite the low light. his hips thrust up into your hand, the jacket that once protected his dignity now discarded on the floor. 

“aw, that’s sweet,” you say with a sharp grin. he arches his back further as you focus on his swollen, angry tip for a few seconds. “but i don’t believe you.”

faster, faster, faster, you can't find it in yourself to care as the wet sounds of you stroking him grow louder, mixing with the white noise of the plane. sweat lines his brow, head burrowed against the back of the seat as one hand claws at your arm. his arms are flexed, muscles straining against his skin. you think he's close to tears with how hard he's trying not to moan, biting into the flesh of his other palm. you drink him in with a hungry gaze; you want him — no, need him to cum for you, need to see him lose it with all these people around you.

“gonna cum, pretty boy?” you sigh into his ear, biting his lobe for a moment. he nods, whispering ‘yes’ and ‘please’ in rapid succession. “that’s it. cum for me, baby.”

you giggle softly as he registers your permission, his eyes widening, and without even checking for wandering eyes, you lean down to wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

that does the trick. his cum spurts in hot ribbons into your mouth, the salty taste coating your tastebuds as you continue to pump him. suddenly, a hand is tangled into your hair, pushing your head down and thrusting up so that you take him further into your mouth, more and more until he's hitting the back of your throat. you inhale sharply in surprise, listening to him choke on the whimper he manages to keep in, swallowing his cum as he pulls you back up to his tip.

you stay there for a few seconds before you push yourself off of his lap, but the sight you are met with is a shocking one.

what you find are stern eyes and downturned lips. gone is the submissive, pliant jjunie from a few seconds ago. now, he's serious, fox-like eyes narrowed as he nearly leers over you. he's angry, you realize. the sudden change makes your head spin.

his fingers grip your chin like a vice as he brings his face closer to yours. you gulp. you're unsure where this switch in behavior stemmed from, but if the way your thighs clench together is anything to go by, you definitely welcome it.

“you like embarrassing me? ‘s it fun for you?” 

“n-no,” you stutter. you’ve lost, any semblance of control you had over this situation dissipating into the air as the seconds tick by.

the tables are turning, and you are unsure if you are ready for whatever he has planned.

“get the fuck up, and go to the bathroom. now.” 

you nod as you unbuckle your seatbelt, watching him tuck himself back into his shorts. standing on shaking legs, you obediently make your way down the aisle to the bathroom, the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend following behind you a hair-raising reminder of your impending fate.

masterlist

© to agustdiv1ne. do not copy, repost, steal, and/or translate.

[sidekick-hero]

In Loving Memory

Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 4, prompt: Angst with Happy Ending

Tags: Modern AU, rockstar Eddie, plane crash, HAPPY ENDING, minor character death

words: 3.3k | AO3 | mature

“Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

Steve looks up at the owner of the soft voice to his right. It’s a young woman in a stewardess uniform with big brown eyes that instantly remind him of Eddie.

“Oh, hello. Uhm, yes, everything is fine, thank you.”

The stewardess smiles warmly. “I'm glad to hear that, sir. I wanted to discuss a situation we’re currently facing. As you may know, flights can sometimes be overbooked, and today we have a few more passengers than seats available in first class. We’re looking for a volunteer to move to another section of the plane. In exchange, we’re offering a significant compensation package, including a voucher for a future flight, a complimentary upgrade on your next trip, and a gift card for our in-flight shopping.”

She looks apologetic, and he can tell she hates asking him this. It’s not a particularly long flight, and he mostly booked first class because that’s what his father’s secretary always did for him the few times his parents had him fly to wherever they were. So giving up his seat for a four-hour flight doesn’t seem too bad.

“Yes, I can move to another section of the plane. That’s okay,” he tells the stewardess and is rewarded with a bright, genuine smile adorned with dimples. Another thing that reminds him of Eddie. He pushes the ache in his chest down and returns the friendly smile with one of his own.

“Thank you so much for doing this, Mr. Harrington. If you have any specific preferences or questions, please let me know. Your understanding and cooperation greatly help us ensure everyone has a comfortable flight.”

With that, she leads him to another part of the plane, presumably Economy class.

“This one right here, Mr. Harrington. It has extra legroom and is situated next to an emergency exit. I will make sure you have a pleasant flight with us. You can call me with the call button or find me at the front or back of the plane.”

Steve nods with another smile that falls as soon as she walks away to prepare for takeoff. His thoughts wander back to the reason he’s on a flight to LA today.

Eddie.

He still wonders if this is a good idea. When he bought the ticket to LA, he was sure of it. The panic that had constricted his throat had lessened as soon as he pulled up the website of the airline and he felt like he could breathe again for the first time when he got the confirmation mail.

It’s a long shot, he knows that. Surprising Eddie in LA after everything that happened but he hopes it’s a grand enough gesture that maybe Eddie will forget how much Steve has hurt him. Robin suggested to just call Eddie and apologize, explain to him why Steve was so reluctant to take the next step with him.

The truth is, Steve doesn’t think he could handle it when Eddie didn’t pick up the phone or just hangs up on him before he can say his piece. If Eddie decides that it’s too much for him, that Steve’s too much, too damaged, then be it. But he needs to see Eddie one last time, drink in those beloved doe eyes one more time.

Steve thinks about why he and Eddie fought the last time they saw each other. Growing up in a very conservative household, Steve always suspected he might like men as well as women, but he denied any attraction toward men because of what his parents might say. He knew they wouldn’t accept him.

He was 31 when he walked into a bar in Chicago with his best friend Robin and locked eyes with the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. Eddie was the first man he ever kissed, ever slept with. He couldn’t help himself, not when Eddie flirted with him, wooed him, and made him laugh with his whole body. Steve always assumed what they had was strictly physical, just some fun between two single guys.

But Eddie wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship with Steve.

Eddie had asked Steve to be his date on the red carpet in LA for the Grammy Awards. Eddie was actually nominated with his band, Corroded Coffin, and he wanted to show the world who he loved. But Steve was scared. Everybody would know he was in a relationship with another man. So he declined, and Eddie left Steve’s apartment heartbroken.

Steve can still see the look on Eddie’s face, the hurt in his eyes. It had shattered something inside him, but his fear was stronger. He had watched Eddie walk away, the love of his life slipping through his fingers because he was too afraid to hold on.

Steve’s thoughts are interrupted by the plane's PA system crackling to life, announcing their imminent takeoff. He leans back in his seat, staring out the window as the plane begins to taxi down the runway. The memory of Eddie's face, the pain in his eyes, is as vivid as ever.

He had tried to justify his fear, telling himself it was about protecting Eddie, about not wanting to put him through the scrutiny and judgment that would come from being seen with another man. But deep down, Steve knew it was about protecting himself. He was scared of what his parents would think, what the world would think.

As the plane ascends, Steve closes his eyes, replaying that last conversation with Eddie in his mind.

"Steve, I love you. I want us to be together, really together," Eddie had said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I want you by my side at the Grammys. I want to show the world who I love."

Steve had felt his heart pound in his chest, a mix of fear and longing. "Eddie, I can't. You know how my parents are, how everyone will react. It's not that simple."

Eddie's eyes had filled with tears. "It is that simple, Steve. Either you love me enough to be with me, openly and proudly, or you don’t. I can’t keep hiding us. I can't keep hiding you."

Steve had stood there, silent and conflicted, as Eddie walked out the door. The sound of the door closing behind him had felt like the end of everything.

The plane levels off, and Steve opens his eyes, blinking back tears. He knows this trip to LA is a long shot, but he has to try. He has to make Eddie understand how much he means to him.

Steve takes a deep breath and pulls out his phone, opening the notes app. He starts typing, trying to find the right words to say when he sees Eddie.

The flight attendants come by with the beverage cart, and Steve looks up to see Elizabeth smiling at him. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Harrington?”

“Just some water, please,” Steve says, returning her smile.

As she hands him the bottle of water, she says softly, “It looks like you have a lot on your mind, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Steve looks up at her as he accepts the cup of water and finds that he actually wants to talk with someone about what he’s about to do. He needs someone to tell him that it’s going to work out.

“I do. I’m on my way to win back the man I’m in love with.”

There, he said it. He admitted that he was in love with another man and now he’s fighting the urge to hide, scared of her reaction. But he holds her gaze, heart pounding in his chest.

“Oh,” she says, her eyes softening, “that explains the look on your face. I think you’re very brave, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve takes a moment, contemplating how much to share. But he feels a strange sense of comfort in Elizabeth’s kind eyes.

“His name is Eddie,” Steve begins, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the most amazing man I’ve ever met. He’s kind, talented, and makes me laugh like no one else can. But I let my fear ruin everything between us.”

Elizabeth listens intently, her expression encouraging him to continue.

“We fought because he wanted us to go public, to be together openly. He wanted me to go with him to the Grammys, to be his date. But I was too scared of what my parents would think, what people would say. So, I said no. And he left,” Steve explains, his voice cracking.

Elizabeth nods, understanding in her eyes. “That sounds really hard, Steve. But it also sounds like you care a lot about him.”

“I do,” Steve says, his eyes filling with tears. “I love him more than anything. That’s why I’m going to LA. I need to tell him how sorry I am and that I’m ready to be with him, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

Elizabeth places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It takes a lot of courage to admit when you’re wrong and to fight for what you love. Eddie is a very lucky man to be loved so much by you, Steve. I hope he sees that.”

Steve smiles, feeling a bit lighter. “Thank you, Elizabeth. I really hope he does.”

Elizabeth gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving on to the next passenger. Steve watches her go, feeling a much needed sense of hope. He’s made mistakes, let fear dictate his actions, but he’s ready to make things right.

About two hours into the flight, Steve decides to stretch his legs and walks up and down the narrow aisle. He passes families with little kids, an elderly couple working on a crossword puzzle together, and two young women chatting and laughing. It’s fascinating to see so many different lives intersecting in one place.

On his fifth lap, Elizabeth appears next to him, gently touching his arm.

“Steve, could you please take your seat and fasten your seatbelt?”

He looks at her, puzzled. “But the seatbelt signs are still off.”

“That’s true, but from experience, I know the signs could come on any minute. I just wanted to give you a heads-up before the aisle gets too crowded with everyone returning to their seats.”

Steve nods, appreciating the heads-up. “Thanks for letting me know.” He heads back to his seat.

As Steve settles in and fastens his seatbelt, the plane suddenly lurches violently. The cabin shakes with a gut-wrenching turbulence, hurling passengers and their belongings through the air. Panic erupts as screams fill the cabin, and Steve clings to his seat, trying to stay calm amid the chaos.

Elizabeth dashes down the aisle, her face pale and eyes wide. She spots Steve and rushes over, her voice barely audible over the cacophony. “Steve! Call Eddie! Now!”

Heart pounding, Steve scrambles for his phone. His hands tremble uncontrollably as he dials Eddie’s number. The turbulence makes it nearly impossible to hold the phone steady, but he manages to keep a grip.

The call connects, and Eddie’s voice comes through, thick with confusion and worry. “Steve?” He asks and then he must hear the chaos in the background because he immediately adds, “What’s going on? Is everything alright?”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice cracks as he fights back tears. “I’m so sorry. I should have been braver. I should have been all in. I’m on this plane, and it’s really bad. I wanted to come to LA to talk to you. I wish I could have done all this in person. I wish I could kiss you one last time.”

Eddie’s voice trembles with desperation. “Steve, what’s happening? Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Steve’s eyes dart around the cabin, the plane shaking violently as alarms blare and panicked voices rise. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t want this to be a goodbye, but I think it might be. I needed to tell you how much I regret being so scared, and I’m sorry for hurting you. I love you, Eddie. I should’ve told you when I had the chance.”

The turbulence worsens, and the plane begins a terrifying descent. The noise in the background grows louder and more intense. Eddie’s voice, filled with panic, tries to reach him. “Steve, stay with me! Please!”

But as the plane’s descent becomes more violent, the call goes eerily silent. Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as the only sound now is the relentless, chilling dial tone. Tears stream down his face as he grips the phone tightly.

Elizabeth returns to Steve’s side, her eyes filled with kindness and urgency. She places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Hold on, Steve. It’s going to be okay, but I need you to fight. For Eddie, okay?”

Steve nods, trying to steady himself amidst the chaos. He closes his eyes, focusing on Eddie’s voice and the love they shared, holding onto the hope that somehow, somehow, he’ll get another chance.

The last thing he hears is the deafening roar of something massive hitting the ground way too fast.

When Steve opens his eyes, he’s immediately overwhelmed by blinding light and searing pain. He groans, wishing for unconsciousness to take him away again so the agony would stop.

“Steve?”

The sound of Eddie’s voice pulls him from the sweet embrace of nothingness. The panic in Eddie’s voice is palpable, as if he’s on the verge of breaking down.

“’ddie?” Steve mumbles, his mouth feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton and his tongue heavy.

“Yes, I’m here, Stevie. I’m here.” Suddenly, Eddie’s beloved face appears above him, his eyes red-rimmed and watery. “Hi, baby.”

Steve manages a smile, the pain momentarily overshadowed by the sight of Eddie’s face. How he’s missed those eyes.

The thought brings Elizabeth back to his mind, the stewardess with the same eyes. Reality crashes back, and Steve gasps with the sudden realization that he should be dead.

“What… happened?” he croaks, his voice barely audible as his strength begins to wane.

“I promise I’ll explain everything, Stevie, but first we need to get your strength back. I’ll let the nurse know you’re awake.” Eddie reaches for the call button next to Steve but stops to press a gentle kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I’m so glad you’re here. I was terrified of losing you.”

That’s the last thing Steve hears before darkness pulls him under once more.

The next time Steve wakes up, he feels a bit better. The pain is still there, but it’s dulled by the medication, making it manageable. He’s strong enough to talk more than just a few minutes, and he uses that strength to repeat to Eddie what he had said on the phone during the crash.

Eddie is holding Steve’s hand between his, his tear-streaked cheek resting gently on the back of Steve’s hand. His eyes are still red and puffy, but he speaks with a steady voice that is thick with emotion. “Steve, I could never just walk away from you. I knew you weren’t ready, even though it hurt. I planned to talk to you when I got back to Chicago, to tell you that I would wait for you, as long as I wouldn’t lose you. But when you called and I heard all that screaming… Fuck! I can’t even think about it without wanting to throw up. The crash was bad—most of the front was completely destroyed. It’s a miracle you survived.”

Steve blinks, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory. “How… How did I survive?”

Eddie’s gaze is intense as he searches Steve’s eyes. “From what they told me, you were supposed to be seated in the front, but you weren’t. No one could explain why. Your seat was right next to the emergency exit, so they got you out quickly. And you had your seatbelt fastened, which probably kept you from being thrown around too much. It’s almost like fate that you survived. Only twenty-three people made it.”

Steve’s eyes widen as he absorbs Eddie’s words. The thought weighs heavily on his chest: If it hadn’t been for Elizabeth’s warning, he might not have been so lucky. He’s sure she’s the reason he’s still here.

A flicker of concern crosses Steve’s face. “Elizabeth… she was a stewardess on the flight. She moved me to this seat, told me that first class was overbooked and asked if I’d be willing to switch. And she also made sure I fastened my seatbelt just before we started going down.”

Eddie’s eyes grow wide with shock. “But… they said on the news that casualties were below a hundred because first class wasn’t as full as usual. They said no one in that section survived.”

Steve’s heart pounds as he starts to realize the gravity of Elizabeth’s actions. “I need to find out if she survived, Eddie. She saved my life, and I need to thank her.”

Eddie’s eyes brighten with resolve. “We can do that, Stevie. I need to thank this woman, who saved the man I love. What’s her name? I’ll get Chrissy on it—she’ll find out in no time.”

Feeling his love for Eddie surge, Steve lets it overflow for the first time without restraint. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

They share a long, tender look, like lovesick teenagers, before Steve remembers Eddie’s question. “Her name is Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s expression changes abruptly. All color drains from his face.

“What did you say her name is?”

“Elizabeth Quinn. Why, do you know her?”

Ignoring the question, Eddie asks, “What did she look like?”

Steve describes Elizabeth, including her big brown eyes that reminded him of Eddie’s—one reason he bonded with her almost instantly.

As Steve finishes, Eddie looks even paler. Wordlessly, he pulls out his phone, navigates to an article from the airline, and hands it to Steve. The headline reads: “Airline Grieves Loss of Crew Members on Flight 731.” The article features a picture of a stewardess who looks just like Elizabeth. Her name is listed below the photo: Elizabeth Quinn.

Steve’s heart sinks as he reads the name. “That’s her. Elizabeth Quinn.”

Eddie’s voice trembles as he looks at Steve. “Elizabeth Quinn was my mom. She was a stewardess, and she died in a plane crash when I was eight.”

Steve’s eyes widen in shock. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I had no idea.”

Eddie’s eyes are glassy as he looks at Steve. “She was the best person I knew. She loved her job and loved helping people. And now it seems she came back to help two more people: me and you.”

Steve reaches out weakly, placing a hand on Eddie’s. “I wish I could have thanked her in person. But I did tell her about you—how funny, smart, and amazing you are. How much I love you. And I should have known, because you look just like her. The same kind eyes and dimples when you smile.”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand, his voice breaking. “I’m glad you got to meet her. God, this is so crazy. I was so angry for so long that she left me. I know it’s unfair, but that’s how I felt. I miss her so much.”

“She knew you loved her. She made sure you wouldn’t lose another person you love, because she loves you too. Even if she’s no longer here, she’s still watching over you.”

“Over us, you mean. I’m pretty sure this means you’re part of the family now.”

Eddie still asks Chrissy to check the airline's list for Steve’s savior. He’s not surprised when Chrissy reports that there was no Elizabeth Quinn on that flight.

[melanieph321]

Hi there,

I'm a long time reader here and i really like all of your fics. I don't know if you're taking requests or not but if you do, could you perhaps make a fic based on this :

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748931841255522304/httpswwwtumblrcomyouandiwerealive74892968529?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/youandiwerealive/748933629341761536/flight-attendant-ruben-ok-but-how-about?source=share

Idk why but these brainrots really intrigued me and i think you have the capabilities to turn them into a fic

I understand if you don't take request. Anyway, have a good day ❤

I AM SCREAMING!!!!

Like no. I saw @youandiwerealive and anon, whom assume is you, talk about this. And I found it so hilarious and relatable. Ruben as a flight attendant 🤣🤣

Of course I will write this request. Even better. Imma make it a 3 parts series 🤪!

Ruben Dias x Reader - Flight Hours Part 1/3

Part 2 Part 3

Ruben and Reader are flight attendants on their way to Portugal. Although they are off to a bad start, the two end up finding common ground.

Enjoy!

Back to back flights were such a nightmare. But when you as a flight attendant complained to your bosses about it, they would hit you with the usual "It's holiday season, it will blow over" bull crap.

You made sure to arrive at your gate early. Earlier than the rest of your cabin crew members. It was a fancy plane this one, where passengers in first class could take a shower if they wished to. Since you weren't given a chance to do so this morning flying from Frankfurt to Dubai, taking a shower is exactly what you were going to do now. It wasn't exactly protocol of you to use the passengers' accommodation, though, especially not the first class ones. But since the airline had such high demand on personal hygiene and frankly a quite misogynistic beauty standard amongst it's employee. You saw it fitting for you to at least clean yourself ahead of your flight.

"Excuse me, is somebody in there?"

"No, wait!"

However, just as you were rinsing out your hair, someone unlocked the doors, exposing you mid shower.

"Puta." The man said, or more so gasp. His eyes shamelessly traveled down your naked body, eyeing you like some kind of prey.

"Shut the fucking door!" You shouted, however the man remained in the doorway, causing a draft. He was another flight attendant, you were sure of it. You could tell just by the way that this sort of situation failed to startle him.

"You must be Frankfurt?"

"Pardon?" Your hands left your hair, a sudden urge to cover yourself. However, the man had already seen it all.

"You came in this morning, no? From Frankfurt Airport?"

"Right."

"I'm Ruben Dias, I'll be flying with you from Dubai to Lisbon."

The man was such a dickhead, having audacity to offer you to shake his hand, with a large grin on his face. Mind you that you stood before him in a shower, butt-naked.

"I'm Y/N." You shook his hand just to end the conversation and for him to go away.

"Nice to meet you, Frankfurt. And what a lovely tattoo."

"You fucking...."

Ruben shut the door in your face, his laughter trailing down all the way to the cockpit where he probably ran to tell the captains about your encounter. Your hand went to the butterfly tattoo on your hip, awfully close to your....you know what. If Ruben had spotted it, he would have also seen your newly waxed kitty cat on full display.

"What a fucking nightmare of a flight this is gonna be."

Based on how it started you expected the worse, however, things turned out pretty quiet on your side. Luckily for you the two male flight attendants were assigned to first class, while you and another female flight attendant stayed back in economy. It was the first time sexism worked in your favor. However, you ran into Ruben every now and then when the two of you were either on a break or topping up your snack and beverage carts.

"Frankfurt? What a pleasure meeting you here."

You rolled your eyes,  having heard Ruben coming from a mile away. He always seemed to leave first class with a trail of giggling women. It wasn't uncommon for flight attendants to be charming, but to flirt with passengers was simply unprofessional.

"My name is Y/N, not Frankfurt."

"It doesn't matter up here." Ruben said, reaching for something in the cabin above your head. The smell of him invaded your nostrils without consent, the worst part being that he smelled amazing.

"What do you mean?" You asked.

Ruben had gone to grab himself a can of coke and two plastic cups. Your name doesn't matter up here in the sky." He explained. "It's no mans' land. Up here, we only care about where you came from and where you're going. Up here, you're Frankfurt, and I'm Portugal."

"Well, that's stupid." You muttered.

Ruben chuckled and poured the can of coke into the plastic cups. "Here." He said, offering you one.

You only accepted because you were thristy, not because of the way Ruben was staring at you as your hands touched when he handed you the cup. Nor because of the way that the soft lights hit his face as he leaned back against the wall, regarding you even more seductively.

"So..." He sighed, after finishing his cup of coke, waiting for you to do the same.

"So." You smiled, perhaps your first time doing so, at least in front of Ruben.

"Are you member of the Mile High Club?"

You should have known that only something stupid would come out of that pretty little mouth of his.

"Wait, wait. I'm just kidding." Ruben said, grabbing your wrist as you turned your back on him. "Jesus Frankfurt, is it that hard for you take a joke?"

"For your information, nothing of what you say is funny to me. And to answer your question, no, I've never fucked in a airplane bathroom. As a flight attendant yourself you should know how disgusting and unhygienic that would be."

Ruben regarded you with interest, shrugging his shoulders. "It doesn't have to be in a bathroom, could also be in a shower."

"Fuck you."

The last thing you saw was Ruben's large grin. You left him on your way back to economy, where you planned to spend the rest of your flight, avoiding Ruben at all cost. It was incredible, though, how handsome he was. How the stewards uniform suited him as if it was tailor-made. It outlined his braud shoulders and swollen biceps. If it wasn't for his big mouth, you wouldn't hesitate to go for a man like him. And, no, it wasn't unusual for flight stewards to have affairs with each other, certainly not when the airline was paying for your hotel rooms. However, once you landed in Lisbon, all you wanted to do in your hotel room was to sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

[total-drama-brainrot]

Assistant Noah AU, where Noah isn't afraid of flying, but he hates the idea of being on a dangerous and unstable plane... So, he tries to run away in World Tour's first episode... But Chris doesn't let him...

Chris: If you don't receive a barf bag full of airline-issue peanuts you'll be forced to take the Drop of Shame.

Assistant Noah: Kinda like this! [he throws himself out of the plane and runs as fast as he can]

Chris: HEY!!! Noah, get back here right now!

Assistant Noah: NO! I'm not staying on that death trap!

Chris: [turns to all the Contestants] Whoever brings Noah back to the plane, will win invincibility for the first episode!

(Alejandro ends up brings Assistant Noah back to the dangerous plane!) 😏

SOBBING. THIS IS SO FUNNY.

All I can imagine is Chris explaining how the elimination ceremony is going to work to the competitors, and Noah off to the side just:

-

Chris immediately sees an oppertunity here to kickstart the comptitiveness of the show and takes it, offering immunity to whoever manages to find and subsequently capture his runway assistant - despite the fact that the first challege is intended to be a non-elimination. He even goes so far as to outfit everyone with a comically oversized net to catch him in.

The scene plays out really cartoonishly, with Noah hiding and dodging and outsmarting anyone who comes near him with a net in a Looney Tunes sort of manner as he scampers around the airport looking for places to escape to.

It ends up playing out as a huge game of hide and seek, just with twenty two seekers and one hider. A perfect oppertunity for shenannagins aplenty between not just Noah and the cast, but admist the cast themselves.

At least one person (cough cough Gwen) wastes their net on "capturing" Heather. Harold tries to set up a clever trap and ends up getting himself caught up in it instead of Noah. DJ tries to convince Owen to look for his best friend but Owen's so overcome with relief that he doesn't have to get on the Jet yet that he starts blubbering and pulls DJ into a bear hug, completely ignoring the makeshift challenge. Izzy's... Izzy.

So on and so forth.

Meanwhile Noah's given up scurrying around the airport like a rat and has retreated somewhere no one will expect him to hide; on the jet itself. It's genius (it's incredibly stupid). He makes himself comfortable in the first class cabin whilst waiting for Chris' notoriously non-existant patience to wear thin when, inevitably, no one finds him... or that's his plan, at least.

Unfortunately for Noah, he leaves his point of entry open just a crack. Not enough for anyone else to notice save for the keen eye of Alejandro, who follows the curiously open entryway onto the Jet to find the elusive asisstant lounging on one of the mustard yellow seats, typing away at the keyboard of his BlackBerry phone. He strikes swiftly, managing to catch Noah before he can even notice Alejandro's presence.

And that's how Alejandro ends up hoisting a net full of unimpressed nerd across the concrete plains of an airport, proudly displaying his victory to Chris.

[fafnir19]

Flying like a bird – isn't that ecological?

I looked out the window, the engine's hum vibrating through my chest. The swelling excitement of my upcoming voluntary ecological year in Brazil was tinged with a hint of guilt. Guilt for the environmental impact my flight was causing, despite the carbon offsets I had diligently purchased. As a gay man committed to supporting minorities and environmental conservation, the contradiction weighed heavily on my mind. Suddenly, the airplane lurched, and a wave of red wine splattered me, the liquid soaking through my clothes. "Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Karen, the stewardess, exclaimed, her voice laced with panic. "It's okay," I reassured her, trying to suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. As I stood up, the wet fabric clinging uncomfortably to my skin, Karen offered a solution. "I can get you a new seat in first class, and also, here's a co-pilot's uniform to change into. It's the best I can do to make up for this mess." Grateful for the offer, I changed into the oversized uniform and made my way to the first-class cabin.

The extra legroom and plush seat were a welcome relief. As I settled in, the engine's roar filled the cabin, accompanied by the rustling of flight attendants bustling around. "Due to your new seat by the emergency exit, we'll need you to watch a special safety video," Karen informed me with a warm smile. I nodded, paying close attention to the lengthy safety demonstration that followed. My brow furrowed as I noticed the dated gender roles portrayed in the video, and the co-pilot's demeaning attitude toward the stewardesses. After the video finally concluded, I made a mental note to write a complaint to the airline. Karen approached me once more, offering a sweet welcome drink. The sugary liquid offered a momentary distraction from the unsettling video. As I sipped the drink, a sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, and before long, I drifted into a deep slumber. In my dream, I found myself face to face with the obnoxious co-pilot from the safety video, and a surge of frustration bubbled within me. "Hey, you!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the dream landscape. "How dare you treat women like that! You're insufferable! You can't treat women like that!" The co-pilot smirked. "Why not? They love it. Just look at them." Even in my own dream, I was plagued by his presence. My dream began to warp and twist, and I suddenly saw myself in the co-pilot's uniform, strutting through the cabin with an air of entitlement.

I awoke to the gentle touch of Karen, who smiled warmly at me. "You look great in that uniform, ready for your shift as a co-pilot?" she asked. I was astonished to find that the co-pilot's uniform now fit me perfectly, accentuating my athletic build.

I followed Karen to the cockpit, feeling elated at the unexpected turn of events. Taking my place in the cockpit, I began assisting the pilot as we navigated through the skies.

"Where's the usual co-pilot?" John asked, glancing at me with a curious expression. "I thought we could use a change," Karen replied cryptically, her eyes twinkling mischievously. I was eager to prove my capabilities in this unexpected role. The responsibility felt exhilarating, and I relished every moment of it. This was a dream come true - a chance to live out my lifelong ambition of being a pilot.

Suddenly, John excused himself to use the restroom, leaving me alone in the cockpit.

"So, Karen, what's the story behind all this?" John inquired. Karen's laughter filled the space, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh, there is a special safety video and a welcome drink that alters the minds and bodies of our ordinary passengers as we have a lack of co-pilots" Karen explained, a smirk playing on her lips. "It's a compromise between the union and the marketing department," Karen explained. "They want the co-pilots to be the epitome of masculinity and to appeal to a wealthy clientele. But it's all about appearances." John's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?" "The union wants heterosexual men who can charm women in every location they land," Karen elaborated. "While the marketing department wants them to be attractive to gay passengers. They've settled on a strange blend of both." "In any case, he is a particularly sweet co-pilot," John remarked, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Suddenly, an idea sparked within me, fueled by the of the safety video. I turned to John, my expression determined. "I need a break. There's someone in row 10 I want to upgrade." "Upgrade?" John raised an eyebrow, his expression mirroring a mix of surprise and amusement. "To the Mile High Club," I declared boldly, the words escaping my lips before I could fully process the audacity of my request. John's laughter echoed through the cockpit, the sound mingling with the steady hum of the engines. "Well, well, looks like our sweet co-pilot is ready to make his mark."

As I sauntered down the aisle, I couldn't contain my laughter at the thought of what was to come. Reaching row 10, I leaned in close to the passenger, my smooth voice sending shivers down her spine as I effortlessly charmed her. "Excuse me," I began, suppressing the upheaval of conflicting emotions. "I have a special upgrade for you." The woman's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze flitting between me and the open door to the lavatory. "An upgrade?" "To the Mile High Club," I clarified, my voice tinged with certainty. The young woman's laughter mixed with mine as she eagerly accepted my invitation, a mischievous glint in her eye. We disappeared into the lavatory, our hushed giggles mingling with the steady rhythm of the airplane as we indulged in our risqué endeavor. Moments later, I re-emerged, the satisfied grin on my face indicating the successful initiation of the newest member into the Mile High Club. Returning to the cockpit, I took my place with a buoyant energy, the satisfaction of a successful mission evident in my demeanor.

Karen and John exchanged knowing smiles, understanding the mischievous spark in my eyes. "Done with your break already? You work fast," Karen teased, unable to contain her amusement. "I had to make sure our newest member received a warm welcome," I replied with a playful wink.

The plane landed smoothly in Rio de Janeiro and I couldn't shake the surreal feeling of my dream. After I got out, Karen handed me a business card with a mischievous smile. “If you are interested, the airline is happy to offer you pilot training,” she said. With shaking hands and full of excitement, I accepted the card. I ended my voluntary ecological year before it even started and began my pilot training.

[copperbadge]

You know, I had thought that the old jokes about bad airline food, which were very common in the 1990s, had stopped mainly because airline food had gotten better. It had to have, right? As food technology and chemistry improved, we must have fixed that. I just couldn't know, because mostly I fly Southwest and rarely take a flight longer than about four hours, and Southwest just doesn't do meals.

But now I think probably it's just that airline food is much rarer. Even flights that would have had food twenty-five years ago (pre-9/11) now mostly don't. So it's not that the food is better, it's just rarer. The comedy is less relatable.

I will say that the mushroom tortellini I got in my "lunch" on this flight home was pretty edible, but when the tray was set in front of me I looked at the hardtack bread roll, the very basic salad with its little pot of bland yogurt dressing, and the tortellini in very scant tomato sauce, and I thought, I bet I can hack this. (It's kind of a conference trick of mine -- I have startled many a stranger at a conference breakfast buffet by producing from seeming nowhere a breakfast sandwich, and then informing them that they, too, can take a croissant from the pastry rack, eggs and sausage from the chafing dishes, and jam from the condiments, and make a breakfast sandwich fit for a king.)

Then I decided to write some fanfic of my own damn novels because Eddie Rambler has definitely done this, and if anyone can fix airline food it's him, and if anyone's going to be a willing accomplice, it's Noah "self-propelled trouble magnet and food garbage disposal" Deimos.

"Hey there, friends and fans and everyone keeping it new out there!" Eddie Rambler said, but unlike his usual Photogram openings, his voice was hushed -- not subdued, but much quieter than usual. "I'm coming to you from somewhere over the arctic, and pretty much everyone else is asleep, so I'm trying to keep quiet, which as everyone knows is for me quite an effort. And if you're wondering why I'm not my normal golden well-lit self, it's because I'm filming this in the first-class cabin of an airplane using ambient light and a phone flashlight for a spot." 

He leaned back, so that his face wasn't filling the camera anymore, and the rest of the room came into view: a tiny nook with a reclining airline seat. The arm was lifted, and Eddie was sitting sideways on the cushion; on the reclined back of the seat, next to him, Noah was perched, grinning impishly.

"Now, I couldn't sleep so Gregory kicked me out of our two-person cabin, and Noah here had a cabin to himself because his folks are sharing one and he's the odd man out, so he let me come in here to film. Friend of the gram Noah Deimos of course, NoahTheTerror -- " Eddie and Noah both pointed at the same empty space, where a link would later go to Noah's Photogram, "and I are both flying first-class for only the second time in our lives. When I traveled with Truly Tasty I was always on the bus because we had a lot of equipment, and Noah used to be a peasant -- "

"I'm still a peasant," Noah said. 

"You're a prince, kiddo."

"I'm a peasant prince," Noah insisted.

"I could kick you back to Economy," Eddie said, grinning at him. 

"Well, princehood has perks," Noah allowed. 

"Anyway," Eddie said, slinging an arm around Noah and ruffling his hair, "the two of us decided to stay up and get into mischief, which is why we're filming at thirty five thousand feet. We were just going to play cards, but we got to comparing notes about airline food, and about five minutes in I said, whoa, this is content, let's not waste it. So, young prince, tell me what you were saying about airline food before we started filming."

Noah nodded. "First class food is okay. It helps that you're eating it in a really fancy seat and you know how much you paid for that fancy seat. But it's still kinda..." he stuck out his tongue, waggling his head. "It's just served in fancier dishes. And outside of first class...I mean, I'll eat it, but I won't like it."

"It's difficult to make good airline food. There are a lot of requirements," Eddie said. "It has to be mass-produced, it has to keep for reasonably long periods of time, some of it has to be reheatable on an airplane, and I don't know if you know this -- I don't know if YOU know this," he added, turning to Noah, "but our tastebuds literally change when we're on an airplane. Something to do with altitude and pressurized cabins. That's why bloody marys are such a popular cocktail. Tomato juice tastes better on an airplane."

"That's nuts," Noah said.

"So do nuts, actually," Eddie told him. "So you end up with some issues. Bread doesn't keep well or reheat well and the texture gets super weird, that's why you don't get good pastry and your bread roll is dry even in first class. Meat is hard to cook at scale or reheat. Sauces tend to separate -- cream sauce is the worst. Vegetables do okay because you can make a whole bunch of salad at once and it'll stay relatively crisp, and protein in sauce is still the most easily reheatable form of food, but stuff like eggs or breakfast meat has to be pretty greasy to reheat well. And then it's just, you know, greasy."

"So, chef, what's the solution?" Noah asked, clearly feeding Eddie a line, grinning as he did so.

"I am so glad you asked," Eddie replied, just as faux-rehearsed. "I managed to weasel two economy-class dinner meals out of the flight attendants -- don't worry, there were spares, nobody went hungry because of this -- and we're going to hack you an airline meal that's both edible and reasonably nutritious. Ready?" 

"Ready!" 

Eddie pulled up a tray table that had been folded flat against the wall, and reached in the other direction to bring two trays of food into the camera's view. "So we've got two meals that each have a salad, a little cup of dressing, a roll with butter, and chocolate bites for dessert. This one is a chicken curry noodle bowl with some mango chutney stir-in over here on the side -- I'm using 'curry' and 'chutney' both very loosely, as does the airline -- and this one is mushroom tortellini in pesto. That's actually pretty good, stuffed pasta does well in this kind of situation and I like a pesto, the bright notes really flare. What's the dressing that comes with the salads, Noah?"

Noah checked one of the little bottles, squinting. "Yogurt dill."

"Pretty good. Probably pretty bland. Oh, we also have salt and pepper. Okay, so what we're going to do is take the worst parts of the meal and add a little bit of the best part and basically make you a two-entree meal that's superior to a single entree with sides. Pop open that bread and give our friends a demo."

Noah tore open the plastic surrounding the bread roll, which was oblong, slightly smaller than a hoagie bun. He tapped it on the tray and it clattered stiffly. He broke off one end and crumbs went everywhere; the inside looked dry when he held it up to the camera.

"This is not a good bread roll," Eddie said. "Butter will make it edible, but we can make it better. We have the technology. We have...the dressing. We're going to just get this bread to a nicer texture by adding some of the dressing..." 

He split the roll with a knife carefully while Noah opened the dressing, then poured a generous dollop onto the bread, spreading it with the knife. "Let that sink in a minute, let's pick out the best lettuce and tomatoes for the sandwich, here we go...all right. You want a spicy chicken curry sandwich or a veggie sandwich?"

"Curry," Noah said. 

"Good call, the dill dressing's going to go nicely with that. All right, we are going to really stir up this chicken in sauce -- it's okay if the noodles get mixed in, that's what we in the biz call texture -- and make sure everything's blended. This mango chutney's going on the other half of the bread to moisten it, and this is -- this is going to get me yelled at by my culinary school teachers," he told Noah, "but we're going to throw that pepper right on the mangos there. It'll add kick to the curry and the hope is that you won't actually get much flavor other than spice. We'll see how it goes. So you got dill dressing with lettuce and tomato, mango chutney with pepper, all that is making the bread nice and soft, and we're going to take some of the chicken curry and slather that right on top." 

Noah used a fork and spoon like tongs to scoop curry onto the roll, sitting open on the plate, and then Eddie closed it carefully. Noah reached for it, but Eddie held up a hand.

"Not yet. Finishing is important," he told the teenager. "You have to let the flavors and textures settle a little, and this is also going to ensure it isn't as messy as it could be to eat, because we're classy assholes."

"Nobody classier," Noah agreed.

"The bread needs time to absorb more liquid. So now we take this paper tray liner and just..." Eddie wrapped the sandwich up in the paper, ignoring where the curry stained it yellow, folded the ends under, and tucked them into a complicated pleat that kept the paper tightly wrapped around the sandwich. "Just let that sit for a second -- if we were actually hacking this meal in economy, now's when you'd eat the rest of the curry, while the sandwich settles. What we're going to do is make a veggie sandwich with this other one. Guess how."

Noah frowned. "Well, there's the other salad, and the dressing, and I guess the pesto..."

"Sure, but where's most of this meal's bulk?"

"The pasta -- are you gonna put tortellini on bread?" Noah asked. 

"Carb on carb can be delicious but we're going to be more delicate than that -- we're going to open up this tortellini and get that awesome mushroom filling out of it and use that like a pate spread," Eddie said.

"Can I change my order? I want the mushroom pesto sandwich," Noah said. Eddie laughed.

"All right, you're the kid, you get your pick. Let's get this tortellini unfolded," he said, and set to work. 

-----

Six hours into their ten hour flight, after Eddie used the first-class wifi to post the video, there was a knock on the door and Gregory put his head in. 

"Hey, you're up!" Eddie said, looking up from his book. Noah gave Gregory a wave from where he was playing video games opposite Eddie. "Am I unbanished from our suite?"

"You are in so much trouble," Gregory said affectionately.

"For what? Noah and I have been super duper quiet, we didn't wake you up or bug Michaelis and Jes or anything."

Gregory held up his phone. "Hacking Bad Airline Food With NoahTheTerror," he read from the screen. 

"That mushroom sandwich was choice," Noah said, without looking up from his game. 

"Curry wasn't bad. Pepper might have been a mistake. I'll workshop it," Eddie said. "Why?"

"Eddie. I love you, but we are literally on a plane owned by a company whose food you just called terrible and hacked so it would be better. Half the internet wants an encore when we get served breakfast, and meanwhile the airline seems torn between promising to upgrade their food offerings and suing you for slander."

"Libel, surely," Eddie said. "I did it in the public record."

"It's libel if it's written down, all you did was talk," Gregory said. "Technically slander."

"Oh, is that all I did?" Eddie asked innocently. 

"I blame you," Gregory said to Noah. "You were supervising."

"I'm an innocent child," Noah said, still not looking up from his game. "Easily led astray. Sounds to me like I came under the sway of a bad influence."

"Anyway it's not libel OR slander if it's true," Eddie said. "They won't sue me, if they do I'll bring one of their awful bread rolls to court and make the judge eat it. Nobody would rule against me after eating one of those."

"The dressing helped, but dressing can only do so much," Noah added loyally. Eddie held his hand out for a fistbump and Noah bumped it, finally setting his game aside.

"Seriously, are we busted?" Eddie asked. "Like, genuinely in trouble busted?"

"Probably not, it's mostly just evidence I can't leave you alone for a minute," Gregory said. 

"Well, the solution to that was to let me keep pestering you in our own two-seat suite and not banish me because you wanted to sleep," Eddie pointed out. 

Gregory opened his mouth to say something, then glanced at Noah and paused. 

"If you'd like to leave Noah to his video games and come back to the suite, we can discuss that where young princeling ears aren't listening," he said finally.

"You can just say Eddie wanted to make out," Noah said. "I'm sixteen, not six."

Gregory rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Eddie?"

Eddie leaned over and planted a kiss on Noah's forehead. "Behave yourself. Hydrate and have a snack before we land."

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Noah called as Eddie left, snickering. 

"On a scale of one to ten, how much trouble am I in, honestly?" Eddie asked, following Gregory back into their cabin, which had one chair reclined (covered in blankets that Gregory had turned into some kind of napping nest) and one upright, with Eddie's stuff piled on it. 

"With me, a two. With the airline, probably a five. You might have to do a follow-up," Gregory said. 

"Like, the breakfast follow-up, or like an apology?"

Gregory shuffled aside so Eddie could shift his stuff off the chair and sit -- then settled in his lap comfortably, arms resting on his shoulders.

"Well, I say you double-down and make the breakfast post," he said. "But I am now prepared to distract you with making out, as Noah so charmingly put it, if you're interested."

"Oh, now you've seen my impressive sandwich-making skills you're ready to join the mile-high club?" Eddie asked. 

"That mushroom thing did look kind of good."

Eddie kissed him. "Tell you what, when they do breakfast service I'll use all the butter I saved from the rolls and make you an incredibly mediocre but edible egg sandwich. If I can get more dressing I could probably even make a decent mayo substitute." 

"You can't use my phone for extra lighting," Gregory told him, and Eddie was going to protest, but more interesting things were happening and by the time he remembered to be sullen about it, breakfast was being served. 

[nonsenseofyesteryear]

The Milgram crew on long-haul flights:

Haruka: Has probably never been on a plane before. Is constantly apologizing to the people sitting next to him. Will refrain from using the restroom for the entire flight so he doesn't inconvenience anybody.

Yuno: Charms a few free drinks out of the flight attendants, then sleeps most of the time. Comes prepared with a cute pillow and noise-canceling headphones.

Fuuta: Give this boy a Nintendo Switch and he's fine. Flight attendants have to try multiple times to get his attention while they're serving food. The only thing that can tear him away is some unruly passenger drama. You KNOW he's getting it on film and posting it when he lands.

Muu: This girl ONLY flies first class. Is probably very rude to the cabin crew.

Shidou: Depends on whether he's flying with or without his children. If he's flying without them, he seems like the type to curl up with a book. If he's with them, he's brought toys, coloring books, snacks, earplugs, etc. and will do everything in his power to make sure his boys don't bother anyone on the flight. Either way, he is very polite to all of the flight attendants.

Mahiru: Plans Cute Travel Outfits. Brings a romance novel to read.

Kazui: Drinks at the airport. Drinks on the plane. Somehow does not appear drunk at all by the time they land. Helps people stow their luggage if they're too short.

Amane: Has the crew and other passengers commenting on how well-behaved she is. Prays for the safe passage of everyone on the plane before takeoff.

Mikoto: Tries to get work done on the plane, to the annoyance of the people trying to sleep next to him.

Kotoko: Has extensively researched the airline and the aircraft she's flying on. Knows the safety presentation better than the crew. Picked the emergency exit row aisle on purpose. Packs light. Possibly snitches on other passengers she thinks are suspicious. Doesn't sleep because she's too paranoid.

[justforbooks]

First Class, Low Class, No Class: The Passenger Hall of Shame.

I’M OLD ENOUGH to remember when people dressed up to fly. I remember my dad putting on a tie before we left for the airport. And that was as recently as the early 1980s.

One of the reasons, though, that people once took flying so seriously, is that so few of them had the means to partake in it. Not all that long ago, only a fraction of the population could afford to fly on a regular basis. Flying today is far cheaper than it used to be. As a result, almost everybody does it.

And as the demographics have changed, so have the levels of behavior. This we’d expect. With nearly four million people flying every day of the week, across every strata of culture and class the world over, standards of decorum are going to fall. That’s fine, and I don’t want to sound snobbish about it. Maintaining simple dignity doesn’t require anything too formal. I have no problem, for example, with people wearing shorts and sandals onto a plane.

But there comes a point, and what I do have a problem with, is the idea that otherwise reasonable protocols of civility, manners and courtesy cease to apply when you’re at an airport or on an airplane.

I’ve never been privy to a full-blown “air rage” incident, but I’ve witnessed countless instances of shameful behavior: passengers cursing at airline staff; stealing from the liquor carts; leaving soiled diapers in seat pockets; etc., etc. Why, for example, do so many airline passengers find it acceptable to throw their garbage and food all over the cabin floor, then mash it into the carpeting with their feet? You don’t do this in a restaurant. Why is it okay on an airplane? It tends to be small-scale stuff — rudeness and a lack of elementary courtesy — rather than anything violent or overtly hostile, but that doesn’t excuse it.

Here is just some of what I’ve witnessed over the past several months…

I am at the airport in Dubai one early morning, waiting to catch an Emirates flight to Boston. I’m sitting in the boarding lounge when I hear a strange noise coming from behind me. Snip, snip snip, click, click, click. What is that?

I turn around, and what do I see? The guy directly behind me — a young guy in his twenties — is sitting cross-legged in his chair. Both of this feet are naked, and he is clipping his toenails. With every snip and click he splits away another crescent of toenail, which he drops into a growing pile next to his left knee.

Would you take off your socks and start clipping your toenails in a movie theater? In the waiting room at your dentist? Most people would feel uneasy doing it in the woods, never mind at an airport boarding lounge in front of three-hundred people. And while I don’t want to watch, I feel that I have to. Because I need to know what he’s going to do with that big, disgusting pile of trimmings once our flight begins to board. Is he going to collect them up and carry them to the trash? Or will he brush them onto the floor?

What do you think he does?

On another occasion I am at Kennedy Airport, in terminal four, down near the Virgin America gates. A woman and her young daughter are sitting on a bench-seat right along the edge of the corridor. The daughter is four, maybe five years old, and she’s holding a tall plastic cup brimming with round, colored candies. They’re marble-shaped candies, possibly peanut M&Ms. All at once, with no warning, the girl takes the cup and flings the entire thing onto the floor. It’s an impressive spectacle, I have to say, as hundreds of tiny orbs go clattering across the carpet, coming to rest in a great fan-shaped display of color. People turn and stare. And what does the woman do?

She stands up, takes the girl by the hand, and the two of them walk silently away, leaving the entire mess — even the plastic cup — sitting there for some unfortunate janitorial worker to sweep up.

Meanwhile, people are kicked off planes all the time for acting, and even dressing, obnoxiously. In Boston recently, jetBlue denied boarding to a young woman because they felt her shorts were too revealing. Apparently, though, a t-shirt emblazoned with the words FUCK LOVE in giant block letters is within the boundaries of decency?

I’m not a prude. Nonetheless I’m dying to understand when and how this sort of thing become acceptable. And I’m imagining this same attire in a different context. In the bleachers at a baseball game, for instance. Would that be okay? Would the guy be asked to leave? Wouldn’t he be harassed by parents who’d brought their kids along? There are plenty of little kids at airports, so why is it different here? And which is more troubling, the fact that he’s being accommodated, or the fact that somebody rude enough to put on a shirt like that exists in the first place?

I’m reminded of a shirt that was all the rage a few years ago in Asia. It was a sleeveless tee bearing the grainy image of the model Hedi Klum. She was topless, biting her lip and sticking her middle finger at the viewer. After six days in Thailand I must have seen five hundred tourists — all of them women, whatever that means — wearing these distasteful and hostile things.

Next we have Ms. Stinkytoes, luxuriating in her Emirates first class suite. She shows us that boorishness these days isn’t merely for the louts in steerage. Are these the same people who buy elephant ivory and rhinoceros horns? And the privacy of her suite is no excuse (couldn’t she at least have closed the doors?). Maybe I’m overreacting to this one, but how is this any more appropriate that resting one’s bare and splayed toes on a restaurant table? This is still, for all intents and purposes, a public place, and somebody else is going to be occupying that cubicle a few hours from now. And for crying out loud, they give you socks and slippers!

What is it? Is it the stress? Is it the contempt people harbor for the airlines? Whatever the causes, flying has a way of bringing out the worst in people.

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

[actualbampot]

8, 19, 22

Reading it? 50k+ doesn't bother me at all? Writing it? I want them to bang like, yesterday.

“Wait. Is Cinder going with you?” With her glasses practically on the end of her nose, Coco stared at her in astonishment. “How did you talk her into that one?”

“Well, She hasn't met my dad yet, and she didn't [REDACTED], so-”

“No, I mean: You talked her into flying?” Coco chirped in with a grin that looked far too devious. “I did a round trip to Vacuo City with her once. Telling you, I've had relationships that felt shorter than that flight.”

-

Coco's passing warning didn't quite prepare Ruby for the reality:

Crew 1: “If you’re feeling unwell we can ask the cabin passengers for a doctor, but I really need you to sit down-”

Cinder: “How many times- I don’t want a doctor. I don’t want to sit down. I’m fine right here.”

Crew 1: “For your safety, and for the safety of everyone onboard-”

Ruby: “What’s uh… what’s going on?”

Cinder: *blurting an angry string of Mistralian at Crew 1*

Crew 1: “I understand- yes- yes- I understand- , but If I have to ask you again the captain will have no choice but to turn around and ground the flight in Vale-”

Ruby: “Whoa- okay. Cinder why don’t you uh… why don’t you take my seat and i’ll go over there-”

Cinder: “I was sitting FINE in the bathroom where there are NO WINDOWS-”

The curtains to first class snap open so briskly that all heads turn. A woman, nearly wider than the cramped corners of the airship muscles in. Her hair is in a tight, high bun, and the crew uniform practically bulges around her arms.

"Miss Fall. It is time to take your seat now."

Came the flight attendant, a firm palm outstretched because apparently that's what it took to stop Cinder Fall from pacing the slightly less-cramped corridor of Airship first class like she was possessed.

“Ó, wǒ de tiān a.” Cinder whispered under her breath, eyes wide. “Not you. Why is it *always you*.”

“Because Airline point Deianeira towards problem.” The woman answered. Ruby could have sworn the entire airship tilted on its nose with the sheer mass of the woman as she towered over Cinder by at least half a head- and Cinder was by no means short. “And Deianeira solve problem.”

Ruby, looking between the two of them, perplexed: “Are..you OK?”

“Everything is ok.” Deianeira announced, lips straight and as hard as the rest of her face. “Miss Fall and I have complicated history, and she hate me very much.”

“Like I told your *esteemed* colleague before you, I'm just stretching my legs,” Cinder hissed, the point of her shoe tapping agitatedly into the floor, “Do you think I *want* to be in this death tube at thirty-two-thousand feet anymore than-”

“You will sit down during Taxi, Take-Off and Landing, or I tie you to seat like last time and feed you complimentary meal like baby. Make your choice.”

Characters with enough dynamic range can generate a billion possibilities, and a billion more AUs. As fans, we all somehow manage to ajacently align on their strengths and failings as a couple without having ever spoken to each other. It's pretty amazing.

[multi-purpose-a]

The Story of Agent D (Part 1) - Just Dance Theory

This theory assumes that Gimme More (Just Dance 2024) is a sequel to Toxic (Just Dance 2023) as elaborated in this post.

Said post also contains several pieces of evidence on which i base this theory, so if you havent seen it check it out!

Part 1 - Toxic (Just Dance 2023)

In Toxic (2023) we get formerly introduced to Agent D. In the map she is on a mission - "Operation SKY"; Disguised as an Air Hostess (Stewardess) she has snuck onto a pink jet liner that is currently on an overnight flight in Sun Horizon.

The name of the airline that owns this pink jet is not confirmed, but we can assume that Mahna Mahna (JD 2015), Hey Mama (JD 2016) and Dragostea Din Tei (JD 2017) could all be related to this airline somehow.

While the actual flight attendends are distracted with a Just Dance map (Specifically the original JD2 version of Toxic) Agent D starts her rounds.

It is unclear if the original Toxic map was made by Agent D for the express purpose of distraction, or if she even is the coach for said map. The two Air Hostesses could also just be on their break.

Because the passengers are asleep when Agent D enters the cabin, the plane must have been en route for about 8+ hours already when the map starts. Therefore the map doesn't start with Agent D boarding the plane, but rather with her emerging from a lower deck, where the plane's staff resides. It is unknown how long she needed to be in disguise before the events of Toxic (2023) play out.

Agent D walks through the plane's 4 economy sections and acts as a steward: waking up passengers, serving them and ensuring they are safe when they dance.

From the last economy section it can be assumed that the planes in the Just Dance universe allow (and possibly encourage) their passengers to dance while safely airborne. It could be possible their flow is what fuels the plane most of the time, reducing the need for fossil fuel and allowing the planes to have practically no emmisions.

As she reaches the end of the economy section Agent D encounters and successfully fights off two hi-jackers, members of an unknown organisation and disguises herself as a V.I.P. upon reaching the luxury section to blend in.

The first class cabin section of the plane can be assumend to be as long as the 4 economy sections combined. It is at least significantly larger than one of the economy sections.

Upon exiting the luxury cabin, she encounters two more members of the hijackers and successfully fights them off.

The disguise Agent D uses in the V.I.P. section has no officially confirmed alias attached to it as of yet. We can assume that it is a secret Identity that Agent D has taken on numerous times before, as none of the other V.I.P.'s question her presence - meaning it would not have been odd for this Identity to be on board with the other V.I.P.'s My guess would be it is the Secretary from Womanizer (Just Dance 1) - this would imply that the other V.I.P.s might be several other high ranking members of the same Company that the Secretary works for. Whether there is a real person that she is impersonating or if this Identity is 100% fake is unclear. I would argue, that the latter is the case.

Finally Agent D changes out of her disguise into her regular spy gear to traverse the luggage hold. At this point it would seem that the Hijackers are trying to keep her from advancing further by letting the plane fly erratically causing the luggage to fly around.

As to why the planes cargo is not secured, this might also be the work of the Hijackers

The next section which features security lasers could be argued to not be part of the plane - but rather Agent D remembering her training or a different mission, using this skill to dodge the flying luggage. (I certainly have never heard of security lazers like that on a regular passenger plane.)

Agent D fights off the remaining pair of Hijackers. She hen reaches the cockpit and frees the plane's pilot Captain Catastropha from his ropes, revealing that her aim was to stop the hijacking of the plane. She then takes the helm herself and flies the plane.

I would hazard to guess that Agent D not letting Catastropha back on the helm after freeing him, implies that she won't fly the plane to its intended destination either, but rather to her base or HQ as the plane is seen later in Gimme More, meaning she kept it after the mission. She basically hijacked the plane from the hijackers.

Remaining Questions

What's the aim of the hijackers?

Seeing as there was a V.I.P. section to the plane maybe the enemy organisation wanted to kidnap the influental people on the plane. They infiltrated the plane before it took off and as it was far away from the airport they took control off the plane by tying up the pilot and steering the plane off-course to their base. The pilot, regular passengers and other staff on the plane would become additional hostages.

What was Agent D's Mission?

"Operation SKY" was about stopping the hijacking, retrieving the hostages and securing the plane. Upon regaining control of the plane, Agent D was further tasked to fly it to her base instead so all the people on board could be asessed and taken in as witnesses. That way any organisation memebers that were still in disguise and weren't thrown out of the plane by Agent D could be caught.

Where is the Co-Pilot?

Notably there is only Captain Catastropha in the cockpit when Agent D arrives. Despite there being 2 seats, there is no co-pilot. I would say that Captain Catastropha's co-pilot was one of the hijackers. When the hijackers enitiated their take-over the co-pilot with the help of a collegue overpowered and restrained Catastropha in the co-pilot's chair, then took over the steering. These two are the ones Agent D fights before reaching the cockpit. When they couldn't stop her with the luggage hold manouver they went to confront her directly (and lost).

What is the Extreme Version?

Toxic - Extreme (JD 2023) is most likely a training that Agent D had to undergo in order to become a spy/ to stay in form. She remembers this training when she has to navigate through the luggage hold of the plane in the Classic Version and it helps her succeed. Though the map could also be a glipmse at another mission where she had to traverse actual security lasers. this is not confirmed as of yet. It utilizes the same costume seen in the later sections of the Classic Version and confirms that this is her true appearence. It also serves as an extended version of the section with lazers in the classic map which was inspired by the Toxic Music Video.

Further Points of Note:

Plane Layout Visualized:

The plane shown in Toxic (JD 2023) is different from the one seen in Dragostea Din Tei (JD 2017), the map Captain Catastropha originates from. The Toxic plane is fully pink, while the DDT plane is white with blue accents and the text "Just Dance Air". As of yet it's unconfirmed weather the pink jet from Toxic belongs to the "Just Dance Air" airline, but it can be inferred from Captain Catastropha being strongly implied to have been the pilot of the plane.

Captain Catastropha bears resemblence to P2 of Mana Mahna (JD 2015) He and either one of the other Mahna Mahna coaches or P2 of Hey Mama (JD 2016) could be the parents of Catastropha.

The flight attendents in Mahna Mahna (P1 & P2) have a significantly different uniform from the one shown in Toxic. Notably the uniforms in Mahna Mahna are pink, while the Uniforms in Toxic are blue. It is the inverse of the planes' color difference between DDT and Toxic. This could either mean that Mahna Mahna is a different airline or that the airline changed the designs of their uniforms at some point.

During Toxic the main color of Agent D's appearence goes from blue to purple to red. The purple costume being a sort of transition state between the fully disguised Agent D and the undisguised Agent D. Seeing, how the purple costume bears resemblence to the mainly blue coach of Womanizer (JD1) this might imply that Agent D is taking on the appearence of a younger self where she was working as a secretary, and might be the reason for her hairstyle change to a bob cut in Gimme More.

The plane seen at the end of Toxic shows up during As It Was (JD 2023), the noise of it flyng over being used as a censor. The time placement of this cameo is unclear but it does tie Hadley to the Agent D Saga. It is most likely that this cameo takes place right after the events of Toxic, i.e. when Agent D is flying the plane to her base. Because the plane is flying very close to the ground it implies Hadley lives close to Agent D's base and might even be a fellow agent. Another possibility would be that the cameo takes place after the events of Gimme More - i.e. after the plane launches from Agent D's Base, which carries the same implications for Hadley.

Due to "Operation SKY" being confirmed to take place in Sun Horizon, unless planes can be used to travel between Danceverses, this would put As it Was and by extention Agent D's Base in Sun Horizon aswell.

This is it for now. Thank you for reading.

Stay hydrated, dancers

[thespacenico]

not too far (you're my favorite place)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ klance, 1.1k words

Keith has never been particularly fond of flying.

It’s not that he’s scared—not of the flying itself, at least. Planes just have a tendency to make him claustrophobic, no matter what he tries to make himself more comfortable. Too many people and too little space, too few snacks and way too much noise. There’s no such thing as a good seat on an airplane, and even if there were, there’s no guarantee that there won’t be a fussy baby in the row directly behind.

He’s just very protective of his personal space, something that airlines basically trick people into purchasing in the form of first class tickets, something which a broke college student like Keith can’t afford. If he had his way, he’d rather drive to his destination alone in a quiet, air-conditioned car, even if it added hours and hours and hours to his travel time. 

Unfortunately, driving across the Atlantic Ocean isn’t really an option. Keith was just lucky enough to be able to book a direct flight from France to the U.S. so he wouldn’t have to worry about getting lost in a foreign country while trying to catch a connecting flight. The downside is that he’s trapped in a cabin full of strangers for upwards of 10 hours. He has survived on nothing but room temperature water and chips from the airport vending machine.

He’s been in Paris for the last two weeks studying painting techniques for an art internship. Pretty much every art student’s dream, including his. He could have spent days in The Louvre if they’d let him. It feels like only yesterday that he was complaining about how far away the trip was, and now the entire summer has flown by in the blink of an eye. 

But as much as he loved his time in France, he’s anxious to get home. Two weeks is a long time. He misses Kosmo, and his bed, and struggling to decide between multiple different sugary sweet iced coffees with an abundance of whipped cream at the coffee shop on campus. The pastries he had from the bakery near his hotel were amazing, but still nothing beats Adam’s banana bread. He misses his friends, and Shiro, and pretending to be annoyed when he comes into his room just to say hi.

When the plane finally touches down and Keith switches his phone off airplane mode, the screen almost immediately lights up with a text.

8:37pm lance ♡: can’t wait to see you :)

Keith bites his lip, no doubt failing miserably to hide his smile. Oh yeah. He supposes he missed Lance, too.

The wait to collect his bag and get off the plane is probably just the same as always, but this one feels particularly infinite. Keith slips into the queue as soon as he gets the chance, his stomach flipping over on itself as he waits for the line to get moving. The moment he steps off the plane, he finally feels like he can breathe again.

He quickly navigates his way through the crowd of fellow passengers, strangely comforted by the familiarity of signs he can read in full without using Google Translate. The line at customs isn’t quite as long as he might have expected, thank goodness, and he makes it through without any issues (also thank goodness). He’s never been so happy to skip the baggage claim, his single suitcase already in tow as he hurries through to the exit.

Despite the hour, the airport terminal is still full of people rushing about. The sound of suitcases rolling and heels clacking is just white noise at this point, and Keith ignores it all as he weaves through the chaos, eyes searching for the person he knows is already waiting for him.

When his gaze finds Lance through the crowd, his shoulders relax and his heart goes still for what feels like the first time in the past 24 hours. 

Lance sees him too, his face breaking out into a wide smile as he raises an arm and waves. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers in his other hand, something he always insists on bringing for Keith no matter how many times he tells him he doesn’t have to. It’s about the gesture for him, something that makes Keith’s chest feel warm just thinking about. His feet carry him forward without even needing to be told, picking up more and more speed with each step. 

The second that he’s within reach, Keith drops his suitcase and throws himself into Lance’s waiting arms. Lance wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders and squeezes, careful not to crush the flowers, and Keith breathes him in as he buries his face in Lance’s neck. They simply hold each other like that for a moment, without speaking, alone together in their own little bubble for the first time in weeks. Tears prick at the corners of Keith’s eyes as Lance presses his face into his hair, kissing his temple.

“Welcome home, sweetheart,” he murmurs. Keith just presses closer, his throat tight.

Lance doesn’t say anything about it when they pull away and Keith wipes underneath his eyes, sniffing a little. It’s been a long day, and Keith is exhausted. Lance has definitely figured as much. He reaches down to pick up the handle of Keith’s suitcase, giving him a little extra time to compose himself. Usually Keith would protest, but he’s learned by now that it’s useless. 

“Are you hungry?” Lance asks. Keith is sure he already knows the answer—he’s always too anxious to eat much when flying. It’s sweet of Lance to ask anyway.

“A little,” Keith admits. A lot is what he means, and what Lance has probably gathered.

He smiles as Keith takes the flowers and slides their hands together, tangling their fingers in the space between them. “C’mon. Shiro said we could order takeout, on him. We can put on a movie and crash on the couch, and then you can tell me all about Paris in the morning.” 

Keith really could cry. Lance knows him so well, and Keith loves him so much. He nods, swinging their hands a little back and forth. “That sounds nice.” 

Lance smiles again, keeps smiling when Keith takes the opportunity to step forward and kiss him properly, lips pressed softly together. His eyes are warm when they separate and he squeezes Keith’s hand, humming. “Let’s go then.”  

On the way to the car, Keith drops his head onto Lance’s shoulder. “I missed you,” he says quietly. 

In response, Lance lays his head on top of Keith’s and swipes his thumb over his knuckles. Everything about this, about him, is so comforting and familiar that all of Keith’s stress and tension from the day instantly melts away. He could fall asleep right here right now, all just because Lance is there.

He’s never been so happy to be home.

[airsllides]

airsLLide No. 755: G-BMNB, Airbus A300B4-103, Dan-Air London, Salzburg, January 30, 1987.

It's the winter season: The first of Dan-Air London's three A300s, acquired from German leisure carrier Hapag-Lloyd, inbound from London-Gatwick makes a late afternoon arrival into Salzburg, offering British winter tourists some 336 seats in her all economy class cabin.

The scene looks quite peaceful, but keep in mind: Since the cozy airport at Salzburg back in the 1980s usually just handled under a dozen airliners a day, ranging from Swearing Metroliner commuters to maybe the Austrian Airlines DC-9s flying to Vienna and Zürich as the biggest regular visitors, its facilities were rather basic, with no jetties, no tarmac busses, no gate lounges designed for wide-body passenger numbers.

On winter Saturdays during the skiing season however, starting usually the week before Christmas and ending the week after Easter, traffic to Salzburg would literally jump to 30, maybe 40 jets of all sizes, requiring careful scheduling and wise ground ops planning to keep passengers and planes moving without getting into each others way. In 1987, most of these flights originated in the UK and in Scandinavia, with a few Dutch, Luxembourg and Ireland based airlines adding a flight to the melee. Just a few years later, after the fall of the iron curtain, another dozen flights from Poland, Russia and Ukraine would also join the party on the still small and still jettyless ramp with its maybe eight to ten stands...