#cw plane crash

[meruz]

how it feels to be at the airport during the holidays

[mrsfoone]

You know who has balls/ovaries of steel? Air crash investigators. These MFs get a call. "Oh? There's been another crash? Let me just hop on a plane to get to the crash site." Just hop on and fly like it's nothing. And I know that planes are very safe overall and that these people are in a position to know that BUT ... can you imagine? Your entire livelihood and possibly sense of purpose is tied to investigating crashes and problems but you still trust those machines?

(Yes, I'm watching "Mayday: Air Disasters." Why do you ask?)

[missyblogs]

One downside to being an armchair aviation enthusiast and enjoyer of forensic science is that I occasionally find myself witnessing ( or in ) crashing planes instead of in a restful dream. I'm not totally sure what it means for me but I think for the town's very own ( and only ) hero, it takes on a much bigger meaning, a metaphor for the things in life he can't change and a sobering reminder of the burden constantly on his shoulders- an immortal being surrounded by a world defined by its unavoidable mortality, an ever present reminder of the losses he is destined to face even with the advantage of inhuman brawn and magic crystals. He chooses not to think about it during his waking hours, of course, which gives his subconscious that much more ammunition when he doesn't have as much of a say over where his mind wanders. Bonus:

[asalesbian]

plane crash television ✈ The Pit

LOST - 2.07 Yellowjackets - 1.01 The Wilds - 1.10

[coulsonlives]

Just a heads-up peeps: Society of the Snow is a great movie, but the plane crash sequence will probably be legit traumatic to watch for some people.

It's v well done! But it's stark and not sterilized at all. Keep that in mind if you decide to watch it!

[bereft-of-frogs]

omg there's going to be a movie about a plane crash into the ocean where the survivors are trapped in an air bubble underwater

it looks so bad

the trailer made me roll my eyes like 4 times and I'm only 90 seconds in

hell YES I'm going to watch it

[elsanna-shenanigans]

December 2023/January 2024 Contest Submission #1: A Piece of Me Left in You

Words: ca. 4,400 Setting: modern AU Lemon: no CW: some violence, plane crash, minor character death, nudity

Day-0: Fifteen Seconds

It began with a shudder. 

A low-pitched mechanical whine rousing Anna from her mid-flight nap. Raising the shades, a gasp escaped her lips as she observed the sky blackened like dusk. The increasing vibration failed to wake the other passengers, nor did the seatbelt sign - its ominous chime echoing their fates. 

Her eyes widened at ash drifting from the sky, grey clumps streaking past the window. The PA system crackled a pre-recorded message: 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats and fasten-” 

A violent lurch evoked gasps of terror. Anna fumbled with the buckle. Right before a muffled thwump reached her ears. Flickering flames reached her eyes a split second before she could comprehend the plane’s engine spewing fire, right before it gave one last mighty belch. 

Then, silence. 

Anna’s limbs flailed as they plummeted like a brick. Her ears popped from the descent, doing nothing to deaden the screaming around the cabin. Frantic commands on the loudspeaker competed with the passengers’ panicking cries in volume. 

Brace! Brace! Brac-! 

In the instant it took for Anna to lean forward, she’s torn from her loosely buckled seat belt by the impact. A tidal wave sucked her through the gaping fuselage, along with whatever was tangled around her wrist. The current dragged her downwards with her flimsy yellow companion as seawater filled her insides. Her face turned blue fighting the unmet urge to breathe. Someone’s hand closed around a fistful of her hair, before yanking the ripcord. The life jacket’s sudden ballooning dragged her to the surface, and her lungs strained as she swallowed mouthfuls of saltwater and air in a desperate bid to survive. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Anna swore, clinging onto the life jacket. Waterlogged eyes unable to comprehend the smouldering devastation. Nostrils burning with smoke. Ears ringing from the noise and pressure. A sudden surge sent her into another flailing panic, only for the figure’s firm hands to pull her away from the swell. 

“Stay still!” the voice commanded, dragging her onto a fuel-soaked foam plank. 

Lungs heaving, Anna gasped a sputtery no no no as the other woman darted back beneath the waves. Seconds ticked by like hours, before she surfaced again, muttering, “Everything’s fucked off to the deep end-” 

Anna stared at her with an open jaw, similar blue eyes dilated in shock, seaweed clumped onto her blonde hair. Chest pulsating with exertion. Two solitary figures bobbing on an ocean littered with burning fuel and shredded wreckage. 

“We’d better leg it before the sharks come,” the other woman pointed towards distant shadows meandering in the water, “I don’t think we can get past the surf but it’s worth a shot.” 

Her words shot through Anna’s deafened ears. 

“Can you swim?” 

Anna shook her head. 

Without warning, she’s hauled off the plank towards what appeared to be a landmass in the distance. A visceral scream of terror vacated Anna as she’s dunked beneath the waves again, but this time she found assurance in the woman’s steady strokes. Clutching onto her belt for dear life, Anna allowed the tides and her swimming to pull her onto the shore. It’s not until she spat out a mouthful of sand, that Anna realised this stranger might’ve saved her life. 

The adrenaline wore off like a steep fall from a cliff, and she slumped face-first onto the black sand. 

Day-1: A Day

The acrid stench of smoke still burned in Anna’s lungs when she woke. Pale sunlight filtered through the sparse jungle canopy, and a distant rumble shook the ground beneath her. Every muscle and joint within her screamed once she tried to get up, and there was that voice again. 

“Slowly, love-” 

Groaning, Anna pinched her forehead, “This isn’t real.” 

“Oh, this is very real,” the english-accented voice insisted, “this is as real as it gets now.” 

Anna turned to the blonde woman, dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans. Tending a makeshift fire pit with smouldering coals adding to the smoke in the air. And that awful smell. 

“What is that stench?” Anna complained, sniffling at its source. 

She pointed at the smouldering volcano, rumbling in the distance, “Plane must’ve sucked in all the ash and died. Were you with anyone?” 

Anna’s eyes widened, before she shook her head, “No - how about you?” 

The woman stared at the coals for a good twenty seconds. 

“My parents,” she whispered, tossing a branch into the flames, “My brother, his wife and his children.” 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry-” 

Her voice shook, “Well it’s no use now, innit? They’ve fucked off to the bottom of the ocean!” 

The blonde bolted up, wielding a pole with a sharpened tip. Her eyes were reddened, but there was a gritty determination in her stoic face that lent strength to Anna’s bones. 

“I’m off to score some fish, no idea how long they’re going to take to find us,” she snarled, before pointing the stick at Anna, “there’s a rock pool with fresh water nearby, make yourself useful.” 

As the woman stomped towards the beach, a sudden surge of helplessness welled up within Anna, like she was tethered to the only lifeboat on a sinking ship; about to be severed from her. 

“Wait, wait - I didn’t catch your name!” Anna called out. 

The voice called back, barely audible over the rumbling volcano. 

“Elsa!” 

Limping through the trees with a Garoupa impaled on her makeshift spear, Elsa gawked when she saw Anna weaving a basket on the jungle floor. 

“Wait, what on earth did you do with this place?” 

In the few hours Elsa was away fishing in the surf, Anna had transformed the sparse camping ground. She’d thatched together palm fronds with vine, creating a makeshift canopy. There was fresh water brimming in a broken, hollow log. Still clad in her soaking white dress, Anna sat cross-legged on a bed of palm fronds, while lengths of vine lay coiled beside her. And, what was that fragrant smell?  Her mouth watered at the sight of skewered yams cooking over her coals. The sweetness in the air barely beset the looming stench of sulphur. 

Anna rose to her knees, face clouded in worry. 

“Did you see anyone coming to get us?” Anna asked. 

“It’d be a miracle if I could see anything beyond a mile,” Elsa mumbled, laying her fish to roast, and wringing seawater from her blonde hair. 

“That means they can hardly see us either,” Anna lamented, cupping her head in her hands. The silence after Anna’s words seeped with despair. A snivel reached Elsa’s ears, and it was all it took to soften her heart. 

“C’mon, love, don’t give up,” Elsa whispered, kneeling by Anna’s side, “look at everything you’ve done while I was gone-” 

The uncertainty clouding over Anna’s head sent a tremble through her mudstained hands. She looked at the woman’s blue eyes narrowing with grief. Despite the unfamiliarity, the untamed roughness of their surroundings and the violence they’d endured. The prospect of comfort from another stranger proved too much to resist, and Anna found herself slipping into Elsa’s embrace. Immediately, the sheer comfort of being held swept away all their fears into the ocean. If only for a moment. 

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you,” Anna whispered into the damp fabric of Elsa’s shirt, “for saving me.” 

“You saved yourself,” Elsa retorted, pointing at Anna’s deflated yellow life jacket, torn apart and fashioned into a water carrier, “but I will accept your yams as gratitude.” 

Famished from a day in the sun, Elsa watched as the girl carefully scraped charred bits off the yam and smashed it onto a banana leaf. She mixed in flaked pieces of Elsa’s catch, and the steaming meal presented a tempting sight - even if they were starving. Devoid of cutlery, Elsa couldn’t help but reach out with bare hands. 

“Wait,” Anna quipped, reaching for an empty coconut husk, into which she had ground some berries, “these are pepper berries. I fed some to the squirrels just to be sure.” 

“You had the time for all this and to pick spices?” Elsa wondered, watching her sprinkle pepper on their meal, “I spent half a day out and caught one fish.” 

“Fair trade, since I can’t fish for fuck. Dig in!” 

Accustomed to a lifetime of mild English cuisine - the sudden rush of tropical spice spreading through Elsa’s mouth turned her face red. It’s hot, but at the same time it left her salivating, and it made her want more. 

“Mm, spicy,” Anna commented, quenching her lips with coconut water, straight from a smashed-in husk. She handed the coconut to Elsa, and in that brief second, their fingertips touched. Their eyes met, reddened lips revealing the exact same unspoken words between two strangers, caught by sudden adversity. 

What would I do without you? 

Day-2: Thirty minutes

“We’d better keep an eye on that thing,” Anna whimpered, eyes lofted toward the smoking volcano in the distance. Even from the beach, they saw the craggy black summit spewing flames and spreading its soot across the sky. 

“I am keeping an eye on it,” Elsa remarked, “the only question is - what happens when Mount Karen inevitably explodes and rains burning lava on us?” 

“Assuming they don’t come for us, we’d have to get off this island in a hurry then,” Anna said, her voice trailing off as the realisation dawned upon her: only one of them could swim. 

“Well, even if we made it past the surf, what then? If the volcano doesn’t finish us off, the sharks will.” 

Anna’s voice broke under the strain, her words sputtering quicker and quicker, “I’d rather get mauled then roasted. Besides, there’s probably a better chance of getting rescued from the sea than a burning island-” 

Alarmed by the growing intensity of her voice, Elsa spun around and grabbed her by the shoulders. 

“I’m not leaving without you, Anna.” 

Shaking her head, Anna found enough presence of mind to mutter, “Don’t do this, I can’t ask anything more of you.” 

“But I can,” Elsa smirked, cradling Anna’s elbow, “And right now I’m asking you to learn how to swim. At least you’ll stand a chance against the sharks.” 

Without waiting, Elsa motioned for Anna to follow her to the waterline. The girl took a few cautious steps into the tide, its calm coolness threatening to expunge what little she ate. She shut her eyes, and the memory of seawater entering her lungs stole all the colour from her face. 

“What, now?”  

“Yes, now,” Elsa ordered, unbuttoning her clothes and draping them upon some driftwood, “C’mon, love. Just thirty minutes, and we can call it a day.” 

Seeking a distraction, Anna’s attention fell upon the pale, radiant skin undressed before her. Blood rushed back to Anna’s face as her eyes roved along Elsa’s curves. Black sports bra and panties. Toned muscles hinting her past life as a university swimmer. She bit on her lip as thoughts surfaced in her mind, “D-do I have to take off my clothes too?” 

“Unless you want to end up soaking wet again.” 

Anna hesitated, before pulling her dress over her head and laying it next to Elsa’s clothes. The sight of her naked, lithe figure didn’t go unnoticed. Elsa’s glance dipped, following the unbroken trail of freckles running down her collarbone and along the sides of her breasts. 

“Staring is rude,” Anna sneered, drawing Elsa’s attention back to her eyes, “I have a husband back home, you know-” 

Fishes swam around their ankles as they stood knee-deep in the water. Elsa frowned, trying to shake off that simmering feeling in her chest, “W-why aren’t you wearing a bra?” 

“Where’d you think I got the wire to make your fish hooks?” 

“Right.” 

“Right, you have thirty minutes, then.” 

Day-4: An hour

That was how long they took in a chorus of frenzied squealing and scurrying about before Elsa finally caught that wild chicken. 

“No, no wait!” Elsa shrieked, as the squawking bird flapped feathers all over them, “What do I do with this thing now?” 

Giggling at Elsa’s exasperated face, Anna yelped, “Kill it!”

“I don’t know how to kill a chicken!” 

Stepping forward, Anna ended its life with a swift tug at its neck, and the bird flopped dead in her arms. 

“Oh my god,” Elsa panted, heaving from the exertion, “that took us way too long.” 

“At least we don’t have to worry about dinner today-” 

Having ventured far inland pursuing the chicken, the sun had sunk over the ash-draped horizon when they reached the beach. Elsa watched closely as Anna methodically stripped its feathers and drained it for roasting. She took care to stud clove buds all around the meagre bird, and stuffed its end with a handful of floral-smelling spices. As the bird cooked over coals, the smouldering fragrance was like walking into a perfumery, a tea house, and a barbeque - all together. 

Looking up from tending the fire, Anna remarked, “Sky looks like it’s clearing.” 

A few rays of golden sunset peeked through the soot-lined clouds, but Elsa’s eyes were fixed on the girl crouched before her. Without realising it, she’d completely forgotten her usual routine of scanning the horizon endlessly for ships and planes. For the first time in four days. 

“Where’d you learn all this?” Elsa asked. 

“Grew up on a farm in Texas,” Anna answered, portioning the chicken with leftover fish and yams, “I learnt about spices from a college botany course.” 

Elsa stared at her smoky-charred meal wrapped in a banana leaf. She couldn’t resist stuffing her face the moment the smell of roasted meat hit her. A medley of flavours flooded her mouth. At the tip of her tongue, she detected Cardamom, Clove, a hint of Anise and copious amounts of pepper. More fragrant than spicy, the taste sent her head into a spin. 

“I think I like this blend better than yesterday’s,” Anna remarked, chicken juices running down her hands. 

“And I could hardly care, after everything you’ve done for me so far-” Elsa scoffed. 

“For us.” 

Elsa turned to the girl, red hair fluttering with the sea breeze and gleaming in the dim sunlight. Her heart clenched when she saw Anna wipe a tongue over her lips, but told herself it was just the spice’s heat. The sky darkened again. Anna paused her chewing. The flickering flames lent an otherworldly glow to the girl’s freckled features, and Elsa found herself drawn deeper into the unusual silence which had befallen her. Alarmed by the sudden tear trickling down Anna’s cheek, Elsa shifted closer, placing an arm around her. 

“No, no it’s alright, they’ll come get us soon-” 

“It’s not that,” Anna argued, curling her fingers into Elsa’s, “oh god, it’s so stupid, I’m going to sound like an idiot if I say another word.” 

She could feel the quickening throb of Anna’s pulse in her palm. Her own heart raced. Burying her face into Anna’s hair, she inhaled the scent of her copper hair, a mix of the sea they’d been forced into, and the spice that knit them together. Squeezing Anna’s hand tight, Elsa searched her mind for something that could coax more words out of Anna. 

“We might be dead tomorrow anyway, so you might as well-” 

Anna looked over her shoulder at the Volcano, which had fallen silent. Her lips trembled, words perched on the precipice. 

“I’m stuck on an island, god-knows-where, no hope of rescue,” Anna sighed, wiping her cheeks, “but I haven’t been this happy in a long while.” 

The words flew through Elsa’s ears as she pondered a response, before realising she really knew nothing about this girl. 

A deep breath, before Anna confessed, “I discovered my husband cheating on me a month ago-” 

“Oh my god, Anna.” 

“It sounds so petty and trivial, telling this to someone who’s lost her family-” 

Anna’s words brewed a potent mix of grief, empathy, and desire, manifesting as a thumping noise behind Elsa’s ears. She brought the girl’s fingers to her lips, and kissed them, savouring the taste of spice on her skin. 

“It’s not until you’ve lost everything, that you’re free to do anything.” 

Day-6: A Week

A muffled boom jolted Anna awake. Lurching upright, she snapped her eyes to the Volcano’s peak spurting glowing lava upon its slopes, before resuming its smouldering fury. Seconds ticked by as she watched in the dawn silence, as though the slightest breath would trigger an eruption. 

“Mount Karen looks grumpy today,” Anna whispered towards Elsa’s sleeping spot. 

Her heart sank at the silence answering her. 

“Elsa?” 

A feeble whine. Before Anna lurched over, outstretched arm falling upon the shadowy mound of Elsa’s sleeping body. She gasped as it came away with cold sweat. 

“Oh my god, Elsa,” Anna shrieked, pressing a palm to her forehead, burning like the volcano.

She strained to hear the murmuring, before making out the words, “I don’t feel so good today-”. 

Fumbling with a coconut shell, Anna spilled water on herself as she brought the husk to Elsa’s lips. A groan escaped her as she struggled to sit upright. 

“I got stung by an urchin while fishing,” Elsa whimpered, in between sips of coconut water, “felt like shit but I thought I’d get better-” 

“You should’ve told me,” Anna chided, cradling Elsa’s warm head to her bosom. 

“What good would that’ve done?” Elsa whined, “I’m so terribly sorry, Anna. But y-you’ll probably have to take up fishing today.” 

In an instant, all the buried fears within Anna’s chest boiled over. The fear of being stuck alone; or even worse, the fear of losing this woman - the singular source of comfort and life and hope to make it out. It all crashed upon her head. Instead of tears, this time - there was only a fierce determination to set things right. 

“Wait, just wait, I’ll be back-” Anna assured, before scampering into the dawn mist. Hours crawled by as she combed her memory and the forest floor for anything that could alleviate Elsa’s illness. All the while circling back repeatedly to ensure Elsa hadn’t passed out. 

“Stop, please stop,” Elsa complained, powerless to stop Anna from forcing down another mouthful of coconut water, “Stop whatever you’re doing, I’ll be fine.” 

Despite her frail pleading, Anna refused to let up her intense search, until the sun was high in the sky - and the volcano resumed its grumpy fireworks. 

“I knew this tea grew wild in the Pacific,” Anna muttered, breaking ginger roots into a coconut set upon coals, already simmering with a floral fragrance. She sprinkled more buds, before stirring the brew, bringing to life a spicy, woody scent. Elsa’s eyes widened at the smell. She shifted closer, inhaling the steam, and letting the aroma spread across every aching muscle in her body. 

“Drink while it’s warm,” Anna whispered, wrapping a leaf around the husk. It only took a sip for the spicy, soothing warmth to fill her insides, touching her every pore with a golden glow. 

“That’s some good stuff,” Elsa murmured, ginger tingling on her tongue, “try some-” 

“No, it’s meant to help you get well,” Anna cooed, pressing a damp hand to Elsa’s head. 

Her bones still ached with fire, but she pulled Anna’s palm against her cheek. Rough, calloused skin rubbing against the pale smoothness of her own. She blinked once, trying to suppress the aching hole in her heart this girl so easily filled. 

“M’love, I feel better already.” 

Day-7: An Eternity

“Elsa, Elsa! Wake up! Now!” Anna screamed, shaking Elsa awake. Sweat bathed Anna’s face as a forest fire swept towards them like a typhoon, driven by the morning breeze. Ash and burning twigs rained down, and a towering wall of flame blazed around them, threatening to cut them off from the sea. 

“What-” Elsa murmured, watery eyes unable to comprehend the inferno. Unwilling to wait for an answer, Anna yanked her upright, hauling the woman onto her feet. They took two steps before tripping over onto the blackened jungle floor. 

“C’mon!” Anna shrieked. Driven wild by the maddening fear of losing Elsa, she scooped her into her arms. Staggering with a warm body, Anna made a bare-footed dash through the undergrowth, barely reaching the tree line before her strength gave out. As she dropped Elsa on the sand, Anna turned and recoiled from the sight of Mount Karen’s slopes scrawled cherry red with lava, spewing flaming brimstone on the jungle. 

A sputtering noise caught her attention. She took a few seconds to comprehend something as alien as a helicopter hovering over the beach. 

“Hey! Hey!” Anna screamed, hoarse voice drowned by the blades and the raging inferno. She started hopping and waving her hands, white billowing dress sticking out before the smouldering carnage. A rescuer descended from a rope, holding out a harness. 

“No, no! There’s another woman, she needs out now!” Anna insisted, shielding her eyes against the downdraft blowing sand everywhere. 

“We can only fly one person at a time, we’ll come back for you-” 

Without hesitation, Anna directed him to Elsa’s body, still mumbling incoherently. In the seconds it took to hitch her up, Elsa stirred awake, reaching for Anna. Amidst the maelstrom of sand, smoke, ash and fire, their fingers found one another. 

“Don’t go,” Elsa pleaded, right before the helicopter whisked her away, tearing apart the fragile bond they’d found in catastrophe, and the chance connection of two distant souls. Hands clasped together, Anna watched as Elsa’s body disappeared into the horizon, leaving a void in her heart, and the burgeoning doubt if she’d ever see that blessed Englishwoman again. 

Epilogue: A Year

The bland meal of fish and chips tasted like nothing in Anna’s mouth, and she resisted the urge to douse it with more malt vinegar. Still, she feigned a smile when the shopkeeper cleared her plate. 

“Hope your meal was fine, love.”

“It’s lovely, thanks,” Anna lied, pointing across the street, “which house is she at again?” 

“Number seven. You can’t miss it, there’s a lavender bush out the front.” 

She thanked him, pausing at the door when he mumbled, “I hope you find what you’re looking for.” 

Stepping outside, Anna pulled up a scarf as wind bit into her face. It’s a long walk beneath the darkened sky, and she flinched each time thunder rumbled. But eventually she’s standing before the lavender bush with her heart in her throat; Dr E. Williams neatly engraved in gold on a red letter box. A deep breath, and her eyes fluttered shut, before she retrieved a box from her satchel and laid it at the doorstep of the brick townhouse. She’d barely turned to leave when a voice stopped her. 

“What’re you doing here?” 

Anna froze at the sight of Elsa approaching, stethoscope peeking beneath her grey coat, paper bag filled with groceries. Dark rimmed glasses. Her blonde hair had been tied back into a bun, and she looked a year younger than before. The sight spilled all the words of the English language from Anna’s brain. 

“I…I came to leave you a gift-” 

“No!” Elsa exclaimed, voice crackling with fury. Her jaw clenched with rage, “You don’t get to do this to-” 

“I’m sorry, ok?” Anna pleaded, raising her hands, “I know you’re the private sort, you’ve never granted any interviews, just disappeared off the planet and moved on, while I’m just - look, I just don’t want to forget what you did for us alright?” 

Elsa’s gaze softened, she looked at the cobblestone pavement, waiting for Anna to continue. 

“And this sounds terribly selfish, but I don’t want you to forget me either.” 

“It’s not that,” Elsa interrupted, hefting groceries in her arm, “I just - wait, can we talk inside? It’s freezing.” 

The fragrance struck Anna the second she stepped into Elsa’s modest apartment. Immediately, she traced the source to a collection of tiny bowls on her mantlepiece, each filled with clove, anise, pepper, cardamon - all spices she’d used on the island. Another picture frame mounted scraps of her life jacket, fish hooks, the torn hem of Anna’s white dress she’d used to bandage her wounds. Above that was a photograph of the iconic moment they reunited on the Oprah show, and a Daily Mirror tabloid cover with the gaudy headline: 

FREAK AIR CRASH DUO ESCAPE FROM HELL ISLAND. “IT WAS BLOODY AWFUL” - SAYS YORKSHIRE NATIVE. 

Worse still, covering the walls were portraits of Elsa’s parents, her nephew’s watercolour paintings, photos of her brother and herself as children holidaying. The crash robbed more from Elsa than Anna could imagine. 

“I hope you understand,” Elsa commented, watching Anna’s eyes rove the walls, “after all the funerals and lawyers and moving away, I tried so hard to forget everything that’s happened. After a year of trying I realised it was impossible. So I gave up trying to forget. And I focused on remembering.”

Anna turned to see Elsa’s lips shuddering, trying to hold back the tears. The woman came within a foot of her. 

“I can’t forget,” Elsa’s voice shook, chest heaving beneath her white blouse, “I can’t forget someone like you.”

“Oh my god, Elsa, you should’ve said something-”

“What was I going to say?” Elsa complained, rifling a hand over her hair, “You seemed fine with all the interviews and book deals and lectures and-” 

“What do you think I was trying to do?” Anna argued back, “All these months I felt I left a part of myself on that island. A piece of my heart that could never be mended no matter how much I tried to help other people with my experiences. What I was really missing, was-”

“-You.” 

The gravity of her confession sent Anna tiptoeing forward and crushing her lips into Elsa’s. She staggered backwards beneath Anna’s weight, colliding with the kitchen table and crushing Anna’s gift packaging, revealing a humble spice rack, with jars of the same spices on her mantlepiece. Lost in the urgency, Elsa’s hands toppled a jar, spilling ginger powder upon her tear-stained fingers. 

Shaking from venting her pent-up desire, Anna cupped Elsa’s face in her hands, heart clenching from the utter longing filling her eyes. The woman touched a quivering finger to Anna’s lips, before surrendering to her desires and leaning in once again. 

Amidst the heat of their kiss, and the gentle breaths on each other’s spice-lined lips, Elsa heard Anna whisper. 

“I don’t think I could ever forget you either.” 

[idiopathicsmile]

Does anyone else feel a faint stab of dread when you board a plane and notice that the closest emergency exit is in first class? Don’t get me wrong, I’d certainly like to think that if we crashed, the experience would bond us as a group to the point where class differences would melt away and we’d all see each other simply as humans, as fellow survivors, but also I am genuinely worried that even if the craft was quickly filling with seawater, some fancy businessman would be all, “sorry but your bit of rapidly sinking rubble is behind you, actually” and then I’d have to swim for the far exit, so embarrassing.

[ceaselessbasher]

Big shoutout to my anxiety, who, while I was packing a bunch of my nicest panties for my trip (because why not enjoy a trip with my nicest panties), gave me the thought, "Hm. Plane crash and you lose all of your nice panties. Sad."

[intentionally-out-of-context-dc]

No one ever talks about Donna almost crashing into the Twin Towers

New Teen Titans vol 2, issue 20

[anonymousboxcar]

These days, when he isn’t on search and rescue duty, Harold likes to browse YouTube. But when he stumbles across a suspicious video, he realizes there’s more work to do. It’s a race against time — and malicious actors — to save a downed plane.

[beholdingslut]

tiktok accounts about famous aviation accidents NEED to stop finding their way to my fyp when i get enough of that at work

[dr-george-ordell]

FEAR AND HUNGER - EASTERN FRONT HERRINGS PT.1

Swissair - 528 Disaster Plane Crash in Okosian Alps - All on board preseumed dead.

SIDE TEXT: Last Seen Location - Flughafen München Franz J.Sß

[reasonsforhope]

“Airports delays are common, but especially during winter when jets need to be dowsed with thousands of gallons of deicing fluids to prevent ice formation and maintain the plane’s aerodynamics to avoid fatal accidents like the tragic Air Florida flight that fell into the Potomac River in Washington, DC directly after lift-off in a 1982 snow storm.

But as soon as any de-iced airplane takes off, most of the liquid slides from the surface of the aircraft and ends up polluting streams, lakes, and oceans.

Now, endeavoring to make a more efficient product immune to ice for such demanding industries, a team at the University of Illinois Chicago have developed a longer-lasting and eco-friendly alternative to conventional deicers.

“Glycols dissolve very fast and get washed away before the plane takes off, and it’s a serious problem that costs hundreds of millions of dollars—most of which literally ends up in the drain,” said Sushant Anand, assistant professor of mechanical engineering...

“A key point was to use materials which are bio-friendly. For example the anti-freezing gels we prepared are made of dimethyl sulfoxide (a by-product of plant industry and having miraculous medicinal properties) and gelatin (the stuff you use in making deserts and custards): so all very safe items.”

The gels are the best performing ones and have a significant edge amongst the developed formulations. They are easy to fabricate, require only two components, they can be easily cured/sprayed/painted/coated on any surface, regardless of shape. The best part is they are optically transparent even under icing/frosting conditions.

Their research published in Advanced Materials showed that, compared to commercial coatings available in today’s market, they perform better by an order of magnitude after exhaustive testing...

Of course, more exhaustive testing on actual airplanes in wind-turbines are needed to pass industrial test requirements before adopting them for real-life usage, but they do promise significant improvement over many commercial solutions available in the market presently.

“Since our anti-icing sprays are bio-friendly and anti-bacterial, we even think there is a potential to use them in agriculture to prevent crops from being ruined by severe frost,” Anand said. “But that is a pipe dream, and we need to do more studies to see if there will be any long-term adverse effect on the plants.”” -via Good News Network, 12/28/22

[hopeamarsu]

Whumptober Day 12: What Could Go Wrong?

Whumptober masterlist

Frankie Morales x gn!reader

Rating: Mature

Word count: 855

Warnings: Thunderstorm, plane crash, wounds, blood. A twist.

Summary: Frankie enjoys the quiet moments at the airfield and with the thunder rolling, he's in for a good study session. Or so he thought.

“Mayday, Mayday!” | Cave In | Rusty Nail

Frankie likes the evening shift at the little airstrip he’s found work in. It’s quiet apart from the thunder rumbling far away and he doesn’t have to do much, just check that the few planes planning to go out are taking off and landing in an orderly fashion. 

The quietness also means he can study for his upcoming license test, one he’s eager to take and pass so he can get the suspension lifted. He needs to be airborne again, his legs have endured enough time on the tarmac, unable to fly.

Sighing deep, Frankie opens up the manual again, eyeing the diagram on the open page. Helicopter maintenance might be fun in real life but studying it can get cumbersome.

The small radio crackles to life on his desk, something quiet coming through the speakers and he grabs the receiver, not taking his eyes off the paper. “Repeat that, pilot. Over.” 

“Mayday, mayday!”

Frankie nearly jumps to his feet when he catches the words coming from the radio. It’s a voice that sounds like it’s panicking and hardly coherent, the tears audible even though the staticky sounds of heavy breathing.

“What happened? Over.”

“The plane, oh fuck!, the plane got hit by lightning and…” the voice breaks for a second before it’s back, “and I don’t know, all the systems are going crazy and I’m, holy shit!” The voice cuts off again and Frankie grips the receiver with white knuckles.

“Hey, hey! Are you still there? Answer me!”

The second tick by in an agonizingly slow pace and Frankie can’t take his eyes off the old radio, holding his breath while he waits for it to spring back to life. He doesn’t dare to open his line, in fear of overriding the possible incoming communication. 

Then he hears it, the loud sound of thunder coming in hot, followed by the sound of rotors spinning wildly. Abandoning his post, Frankie rushes outside, barely stopping to pick up his first aid kit and a large flashlight to light his way. What he sees is straight out of a nightmare. 

The sky is dark blue and split in half by white bolts of lightning. Nearing the tarmac in an angle all wrong is a small plane that barely has its wheels open. It’s a disaster waiting to happen and Frankie can only stand rooted to the spot and watch. Ha can’t turn away, the plane nearing the tarmac at an alarming rate. 

The sound of bending metal breaks him out of his reverie and Frankie begins running again, towards the plane, its nose all bent out of shape. There’s a distinct smell of petrol in the air, even over the top of the rain now pounding down on him as he nears the wreck. He can’t yet see any flames or smoke, but knows it’s just a matter of seconds and frantically Catfish increases his speed.

“Hey! Anyone in there?!” He screams and to his shock, a hand slaps on the window. It’s a delicate hand with elegant fingers but the way blood smears the handprint on the window brushes off any thought other than ‘get them to safety’ out of Frankie’s head. He’s thankful the doors of the plane seem relatively unharmed after the bad landing and he puts his whole weight into it, wrenching the metal open with difficulty. 

Two people are inside, the pilot slumped over his seat and bleeding from his forehead. He’s an older gentleman and the few greys he still has on his temples are rapidly thinning. But it’s not him Frankie has his attention focused on. No, his wide eyes were focused on you. 

“Ángel?” He breathes out, not even the rolling thunder masking the complete bewilderment in his tone. His brown eyes feel both wide awake and tired out of his mind. He has a million things running through his head and none of them are because the pilot is still bleeding in his seat. 

He can’t understand it, he thought you were … Well, whatever the rumors were, they were clearly wrong. Frankie blinks, his brain trying to keep up with the changes in you after all this time and all the new information he’s bombarded with. He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the frozen state he finds himself again. The next words escape him in a whoosh. 

“Is it truly you, mi ángel?” 

You lift a shaking hand in small greeting and Frankie’s eyes hone on the redness coating your palm.

The wounds on you make him want to tuck you in his embrace and protect you from the cruelty of the world. He wants to soothe out all your pains and aches, take on the weight of the world so you don’t have to carry it with you. It seems that feeling hasn’t changed despite the time you have spent away from him, he thinks wryly.  

You have a way of surprising him with any turn and this time it’s no exception when you speak breathlessly, a husky tone that has nothing to do with the blood running down your exposed forearms. 

“Hello, husband.” 

[occasionallythreeowls]

for the ask game, 9 + 13 for whatever fic(s) of your choice :)

Let's see, how about

she sleeps below (so down you go)

(aka, what would happen if only Van survived the crash? Bad things. Bad bad things.)

9. Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

The fic had an alternate ending: while driving her mother home from a bar, Van has a panic attack at the wheel and crashes. Her mother dies, Van survives (again), and having another instance of stupid, improbable, absurd survival (and the fact that she now has no one left to take care of) causes Van to break. After this, Van makes her way north to the wilderness, chasing her ghosts into oblivion. Ultimately, I went with a much more immediate, grim and violent ending. But hey, at least Van's happy. Her mind is shattered beyond repair, but she's happy.

13. What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

I don't necessarily listen to anything in particular while I write. That being said, there are two songs that I think of for this fic: Exit Music (For a Film) by Radiohead, and Growing Poppies by Alec Lambert.

Thanks for the ask!