airport visit

guide to becoming relatively productive when you’re not doing anything
  • draw something using the paint tool on your laptop
  • reread a book that you like and reevaluate if you still like it
  • write a poem that does not rhyme if you always write a rhyming poem and a poem that rhymes if you’re more of a free-verse poet.
  • go for a walk. alone. and try to pick some wild flowers on your way home for pressing.
  • exercise. stretch a little bit. work out a little.
  • calculate your monthly dues and see if you’re still financially stable
  • try to exercise your breathing (buteyko exercises), find your inner peace, and/or do yoga
  • make cute little playlists for future purposes
  • play with your cats, dogs, and pets and give them a little bubble bath
  • go to a coffee shop from another neighborhood
  • and sit beside a stranger, also a little challenge: befriend them
  • explore a new place; may it be a cute little city or a strange little town
  • visit an airport and sketch a couple of strangers- their figures and stuff.
  • visit the neighbor that you never had the chance to talk to.
  • talk to your old friend, that one friend that you “never talked again”
  • clean your room, change your sheets, or rearrange some of the furnitures/stuff in there
  • ask someone out- may or may not be the person that you like
  • try to learn something- a new language (the basics and alphabet)
  • plant a tree or a plant
  • sign up for an environmental organization (that may or may not be focusing in saving the bees)
  • try to immerse yourself with a new lifestyle and try to appreciate it
  • sew some of your clothes incision close
  • do a little embroidery of your fave thing on your fave shirt (even if you don’t know how, yes, google it up)
  • write a letter to 30-year-old self
  • make a cute video using your phone
  • reevaluate your life choices- do you like the current you
  • make a little something for your best friend
  • do some little diys/craft from pinterest
When I was leaving from the airport this morning after dropping you off i kept feeling like I was forgetting something then I realized it was you..
—  please come back now being without you doesn’t feel right
Damijon Nsfw-ish?

Alfred was, of course, the first to find them in their seemingly natural undressed and fooling around the state. It was Monday morning, a hard thing does anyone to cope with but for Alfred, it was like any other day. Bruce was up first to head to the office so he took his breakfast at the table with Cassandra who Alfred knew hadn’t even gone to bed yet. Tim and Jason dropped by for a minute each to get a glass of orange juice before running off again and Dick called the manor asking if Alfred needed a ride to the airport for his visit to England in a week. It was a normal morning. A normal morning also entailed a trip to Damian Wayne’s room for a quick breakfast in bed since the now twenty-year-old couldn’t ever be found out of bed before noon.
“Rise and shine, Master Damian,” Alfred called as he walked right into the room, he heard the regular stirring of Damian but another noise caught his attention. A yawn that definitely didn’t belong to the youngest Wayne. When his attention finally went to the bed his eyes widened and he had to catch the try before it fell out of his hands. There wasn’t just one Damian in the bed, an equally as tired and equally as naked Jon Kent laid his head on Damian’s chest and from what Alfred could see their entire bodies tangled together under the covers. Damian was first to take in that the two weren’t alone anymore, his eyes widening when he realized Alfred was in the room.
“Will Mr. Kent need a plate as well?”
“He’s leaving. I hope no one else will come to know of this-”
“You act as if this is the first time I’ve walked in on a Wayne entertaining a Kent” Alfred smirked before placing the tray on the nightstand and walking out.


Dick is the first of his brothers to find out. He sneaks into the manor because it was Thursday and Thursdays mean Alfred baked his favorite apple turnovers and there were for sure some leftovers in the kitchen. He also knows that Damian is home alone that night, Alfred left that morning to visit a friend for the weekend and Bruce was off world with some league members so he thought he’d take the opportunity to bond with his baby brother.
When he crawled through the window he was met with the expected, eerily quiet house, the only sound being the creak of every step he took.
“Damian?” He called making a b-line for the kitchen, not even attempting to look for the kid. “You hom-ly shit!” He did not see apple turnovers on the counter, what he did see was the shirtless back of a faintly familiar eighteen-year-old boy. Dick stands there with his eyes closed so he doesn’t see Damian stand up but he nearly gags when he hears the sound of his knees cracking with the motion.
“Damian, what the hell? Who is that?” He yells back.
“Uh, hi, Dick,” a voice, much deeper than Damian’s replies. Dick walks out of the kitchen at that, not wanting to acknowledge that he walked in on Jon Kent getting blown by his brother.


Next is Cassandra, she’s sitting on top of the t-rex for some alone time but she’s rudely interrupted by the sound of a motorcycle driving into the cave followed by the booming laughter of Superboy. She doesn’t bother climbing down, thinking the boys were going to go up for dinner in a second anyway.
“You let me win, Jonathan, you’re much faster than my bike and we both know it.” She stays silent as she watches the exchange, a bit intrigued by the two. However, when she notices them stepping closer and closer together she starts realizing why the duo decided to patrol together for the third night in a row.
“Yeah, but how can I pass up the opportunity to get you na-”
“No!” Both men shoot apart at the voice, blushing furiously when the small Asian jumps down from her perch.
“No!” Is all she repeats before storming off. Jon tries to wrap his arms around Damian but he’s pushed off before he too, just like his sister, storms off. Only instead of the clock entrance, he goes towards the showers.
“Coming or not, Kent?”


It’s entirely Damian’s fault when Barbara calls him on his personal phone to ask why he’s hanging (more like messing) around the bat signal with Superboy. It’s in a teasing tone and he contemplates whether or not to throw his phone at the camera he knows she saw them through.
“You were off for the night, Oracle.”
“Alfred wanted me to check up on you, said you were getting late.” He hears the smile on her face and when he turns he sees Jon giving the camera a thumbs up, he doesn’t hesitate to push him off that part of the roof.
“That’s not how you treat your boyfriend!”
“Why are you so calm about this?”
“Dick told me.”


When Jason finds out it’s when he sneaks into the Batcave to fix up his bike, it’s almost seven in the morning so everyone was either off at school or in the office, the only one who could possibly find him was Alfred. However, when he drives in he hears the soundtrack to 50 Shades of Grey (he’s pretty sure, he hasn’t seen the movie) playing and he sees Jon sitting and Damian’s lap, the former doing some lewd motions from what Jason could tell.
“A bit early for that, is it not? And Jon what would your mom say about skipping school?” Jon is pushed to the floor in a second, Damian putting his head in his hands as he groans.
“It’s senior ditch day,” Jon explains but Jason only smiles up at him. “I’m gonna go-”
“No, Jon, stay, I have questions.”
“Four years, no he doesn’t know, and yes we do, now why are you here?” Damian answers without even hearing the questions. Jason chuckles and taps his bike with his helmet.
“Nothing, I got what I needed.” Damian raises an eyebrow as he watches the older man slip his helmet back on and drive back out of the cave.
“Is he going to tell?”
“Tell who? Bruce? No, he likes knowing things Bruce doesn’t.”


Tim gets the biggest hit of it. He’s sleeping in the manor that night because his own place didn’t have power or hot water, that and he heard that Alfred was making breakfast for dinner and he would never pass up a plate of Alfred’s pancakes.
He’s walking back from the washroom when he hears it, a whimper and from his experience living with Damian that one week he knows that he might hurt himself in his sleep. So he doesn’t hesitate opening his bedroom door to check up on the boy he claims to hate. But the whimper he heard wasn’t from a bad dream, or from Damian at all for that matter.
“Oh my God…” Tim whispers, he quickly closes the door and is tempted to run to the kitchen to boil his eyeballs. The image of Jon Kent getting, he couldn’t even think about it without wanting to throw up.
He runs into Cass on his way back to his bedroom, she just nods in sad understanding before slipping down another hall.


The dinner table is quiet that night, a welcome back dinner for Bruce. Damian could feel all the shifting eyes between him and Bruce, the latter confused by the unusual silence of his family.
“Did something happen that I wasn’t made aware of?” He asks. Tim opens his mouth to talk but all that comes out is a puff of air when Damian kicks him under the table.
“Alfred this tastes wonderful,” Barbara says from her spot at the other end of the table.
“Thank you, Miss Gordon. It’s Master Bruce’s favorite.”
“And does Damian share his love for lobster?”
“No, Master Damian enjoys chicken with corn, anything found on a farm really.” Dick spits out the water and Barbara snorts. Damian cataloged their reactions for later, revenge will be necessary.


It’s a few nights later that Bruce finally learns what the fuss was at dinner. He’s home early from a WE event and goes to check that Damian got home alright because they got in an argument before and Damian got a little bit too much to drink. Luckily Jon Kent was attending with his ‘reporter’ father and offered to fly him home.
He tripped over a shoe on his way to Damian’s room, a shoe that was a little too worn out to belong to Damian. Picking it up he noticed another article on the floor, this one he instantly recognized as Jon’s identical glasses to his father’s.
“Damian?” Bruce asks as he walks into the room, two figures on the bed freeze at the sound. Bruce’s eyes narrow and he motions for Damian to follow him. “We need to talk”
“Well, I owe Oracle twenty dollars so I’m gonna get to the clock-”
“You too. Get dressed and my study in ten minutes.” He turns swiftly and walks off back down the hall.
“Do you think he noticed you’re wearing his-”
“No, and don’t bring it up. The last thing I need is getting in trouble for wearing his costume again.”

“I don’t want to go out on a Kennedy driveway to a Kennedy airport to visit a Kennedy School – that’s what Ethel said. And besides: I’ve got everything I want, I have that flame [in Arlington National Cemetery] and I have the Cape. Those were the only two things I cared about. I care about the flame. Sometimes you drive across that bridge and see that Lee mansion all lit up, that’s one of the first things Caroline learned to recognize. I wanted that flame and I wanted Cape Kennedy. I don’t care what people say. I want that flame, and I wanted his name on just that one booster, the one that would put us ahead of the Russians…that’s all I wanted”

(-Jacqueline Kennedy)


[1N2D Friday filming update]

Our members and crew have been spotted yesterday arriving at Jeju-do airport and visiting places around the island where they played games with the locals~

Seing the pictures, I’m crossing my fingers for a redo of Jongmin/Donggu/Joonyoung working together as they were so adorable as a team in the Tongyeong episode ^_^

This is the fourth installment in this series. You can read the first one here, the second one here, and the third one here. They’re also all on AO3 here

Summary: Sansa is a physical therapist doing her clinic hours in Milwaukee for the winter. Jon, her downstairs neighbor, is a veteran who’s come back from Afghanistan. They first met during a power outage, and have been getting to know each other since then, sharing a meal every Tuesday. They’ve had some Thanksgiving and Christmas adventures, and have been friends for about six months. Now Jon’s leaving for a summer sailing vacation with his army buddies, and he wants to write to Sansa while he’s gone. He has trouble telling her how he feels when they’re together, but he opens up when he writes.


“I’m so jealous, Jon! A trip to the Virgin Islands with your old army buddies.” Sansa had finally gotten the news out of Jon at the end of their meal. They were sitting on the couch in her apartment. She had the AC cranked up. Summers in Milwaukee were hot and muggy. The old, single-pane windows were fogging up, but at least she and Jon were comfortable.

Plus Jon wore t-shirts all the time, so she called the summer a win.

Jon started clearing away the dishes. She followed him to the kitchen. He tried to keep her from helping, since she’d cooked. She took a towel and shot him a just you try it look, so he gave in. Her galley kitchen had a double-basin sink but no dishwasher. They formed their own little assembly line as Jon washed and Sansa dried.

“We planned the trip a long time ago,” he said. “For when Sam turned 25. We fly to Miami first. Ten days, five ports. It’ll be about three weeks total. We’re chartering a boat, so we’re not doing the big cruise ship thing. We all know how to sail. I almost cancelled, I haven’t got much money-“

Sansa put the glass down a little too forcefully. “Jon, how could you? Sam’s counting on you and you deserve to have fun, even if it costs a little more money than you can afford. You can’t put a price on-“

“Memories, I know.” Jon’s mouth quirked. “Trust me, you convinced me about a week ago.”

“You only told me about it tonight!”

“I have conversations with you in my head.” Jon sloshed the soap around. “Okay, that sounded really strange. I mean, you give me good advice, and I remember it. Sometimes I ask you questions even when you’re not there….And that sounds weird too.” He paused. “I-“

Sansa took pity on him. Actually, she was touched he thought about her when they weren’t together.

“I’m just a little mad that I’m so predictable, is all.”

“Don’t be. You’re really easy to talk to.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls who cook you pizza.”

“I don’t, Sansa.”

“Yeah, because I’m the only girl who makes you pizza.”

“You are, but–“ Jon stopped scrubbing the plate. He closed his eyes. This weight in the air between them came up more often now that they’d been friends for six months. Sansa didn’t know whether to lean into it or shy away from it.

She took the easy way out. “So when are you leaving?”

He handed her the last dish.

“This weekend. Can I – Can I write you while I’m gone, Sansa?”

“You’re only gone for a few weeks, Jon, you don’t have to go to all that trouble.” She would miss him though. A lot.  She wondered if she looked distraught. He was leaving for less than a month. She was a big girl. She’d be fine.

She tried to lighten the mood. “Besides, we do this thing called texting in the 21st century, remember? I text you about a blackout in our apartment and you come save the day. You text me about a burned turkey and I talk you into ordering fried kitchen when your buddies visit.”

“You saved the day, too, on Thanksgiving,” he said.

“And we even managed to have a fight about mousetraps over text.”

“We figured it out though.” He was smiling.

“See? Texting it is.”

Jon glanced away. He took the dishtowel from her and hung it to dry, then looked at her again.

“May I write you, Sansa?”

There was so much yearning in his expression that she felt like he was asking if he could kiss her.

Read more below or continue on AO3

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I Once Was Blind.

(A great story by: Decomprosed)

I was born blind.

When you’ve never learned to appreciate something, it’s not really possible to miss it. People used to ask me all the time:

“How do you get by?”

“Do you wish you could see?”

“What would you trade for it?”

No matter the context, my answer was always the same; I’m happy with the way I am. Except for one thing, maybe. The smells.

They say that when one sense is missing or diminished, the others get elevated to make up for it. That might’ve explained an extra whiff of Summer on the wind, but it didn’t explain the rotting, the pungency, the ever-pervasive decay. It also didn’t explain the associations I made between people and certain scents.

Whenever my mother would put me to sleep at night, it was like death itself had crawled from the earthy grasp of soil, worms in tow, to join me as bedfellows. Carried with it came the faint smell of ash. I was eight when it all came to a head and she died in a house fire that almost claimed our entire family.

Years later, we had a pet dog. I constantly had to hold my breath for fear of catching one of the waves of nausea perpetually threatening to overtake me. His coat always held a faint hint of deep wet copper. One dewy morning, we found him with his belly spilled onto the grass, slowly bleeding out in our backyard; West Virginia was no stranger to coyotes.

Being in public around large groups was an all-out assault on the senses. Toxic smells, the scent of burning rubber, of chemicals and gasses - then, some things more innocuous; simple things like chocolate, lavender, and flowery perfumes.

From every direction, in every regard, I was constantly surrounded by the taste and smell of death. It crept, gaining traction and stronger footing, and delivered a precursor for fate with a saccharine blow.

Well into adulthood, with a beautiful wife and three children, I’d learned to co-exist with the associations. Every living thing has a special smell, and it usually gets stronger over time. Right before someone succumbs to their cycle, the smell spikes.

Lately, though, something’s changed; when my love and I lay tangled in each other’s limbs, licking the sweat from each other’s skin, I become overwhelmed. A new hint, a fresh dash. I can’t place it. Full and robust, it sits deep in the back of my throat, and it waits.

This morning, I leaned in for one last kiss, pushing my face into the nape of her neck, and inhaled deeply. Then, the realization struck.

Montblanc Legend cologne. Roger, her co-worker. The company picnic three months prior.

I have to say, he has good taste. It complemented her natural scent well; a heavy sheet of gas. Kerosene. Burning flesh. Holding her tight, I reveled in the harmonious swell.

Then, she was gone; off to the airport. She’s visiting her parents this weekend.

Wings [Part 17] || Taehyung


Pairing - Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre - Fantasy, Fallen Angel! AU, Fluff, Smut, Angst

Summary - You help Ji Hyun get steady in her life and while your friend asks you of Taehyung’s whereabouts, he appears in the picture. But it seems he has more secrets that one that you reluctantly accept.

Prologue ; Part 16

How Ji Hyun went through all of it, you didn’t know. But what you knew was for the fact that she was very strong. No where did she falter as she sat in front of the policemen who questioned her endlessly about her younger brother and her mother. She had kept her voice steady and her chin high. The grief in her eyes had dared to speak otherwise.

Her mother had passed away on the same day as you had driven Hoseok home. And not being able to overcome it, Hoseok had slipped into depression and couldn’t attend university until Ji Hyun had come home to his body floating lifelessly in the bathtub.

Jin and you, both offered her to stay with you, but she rejected it insisting that she didn’t want to be a burden to you as you both were still doing your studies and she had her relatives living in her birth place, Gwangju. It was just an excuse to leave the place that held painful memories, you thought as she fussed over the both of you.

It was one more week before she said she was ready to move out. You and Jin went along with her to the airport.

‘Please do come visit sometime, Ji Hyun.’ You whispered as you hugged her close to you, hoping that she would be able to move on quickly.

'I will, little one. Take care and- and thank you very much for loving Hoseok. You made him happy.’ Her eyes teared up as a sad smile rested on her beautiful face.

'We’re always here for you, okay?’ Jin said as he hugged her as well. You and Jin, both bid her goodbye as she walked into the airport waving at you. And until she was no more than a speck in the distance, you had kept waving.

'Has he moved out or something?’ Soo Young suddenly questioned while you were cleaning the table. You looked at her and gave her an expression that suggested you didn’t quite understand her question.

'That Blondie. He hasn’t come in weeks now.’ Just as she spoke, the bell at the door jingled and the subject of your conversation had walked in. The blonde, tall, gorgeous man turned his head around, scanning the café before his gaze settled on you. He didn’t waste time standing there, and walked quickly towards you, grabbed your hand with a quick apology towards Soo Young and pushed open the door before pulling you out with him.

Right when you stepped out, you felt the same light weighted feeling you got when he was in your room two weeks ago. The same light-headed feeling wrapped itself around you before you felt your feet land on hard floor, making you open your eyes. You took a while to adjust your vision around you and when you noticed where you were, you jumped, a hand flying to your chest trying to calm your already fast beating heart. There was a sofa, a lounging chair, a rug and a fireplace. This was not where he was pulling you to. Where even was this?

'Y/N, I’m sorry. This is all very sudden but-’

'Where are we?’ You asked frantically. He looked at you with a surprised look before it dawned on him.

He had just teleported to his house. With you. He mentally smacked himself thrice, before opening his mouth. He was struggling, to say the least.

'Ah.. Um-’

'Kim Taehyung. Where the actual hell are we?’ You took a few steps back. Unsure glances were thrown to him, behind him and yourself before you could finally rest your gaze on him. A very scared, feckless gaze. It almost made him flinch.

Taehyung took a deep breath, and said, 'My house. This is my house.’

What?’ You gasped. More like hissed.

'Now, really, Y/N. There’s nothing to be worried about except-’

'Nothing to be worried about? Nothing to be worried about? I can already say we tele-something-ed here and- WHY AM I HEARING YOUR VOICE IN MY HEAD?’ You yelled, frightening him. He was trying to calm you down by talking telepathically, and clearly, it wasn’t working. He flinched this time.

'Okay. Y/N. Hear me out,’ He said, two hands in front of him defensively. He wasn’t sure if to tell you what he had heard back in Yoongi’s place or what he really was. Either way, you were sure to bolt out of the door. Your defensive stance screamed escape.

'What? What do you mean what you really are?’

He had spoken in your head again. Great. At this rate, he could might as well let you in on everything he knew. Be it intentional or not.

Silently cursing, he put his hands back down and walked to you, making you take a few steps backwards until the back of your knees bent at the contact with a furniture, making you fall. You braced yourself.

No contact with a hard floor came, but instead there were two arms around your waist, holding you, as you stared back at Taehyung, horrified.

'What?’ He asked you, as he noticed your expression.

'Your- your eyes. They’re red!’ You stuttered, scared and surprised, yet fascinated. You cursed at yourself for that. Here you were getting fascinated by things when you should have been running out of the room and onto the street. 

'This is going to take a while.’ He mumbled, helping you stand straight and pushing you around the table you had bumped into, before making you sit on the couch.

'Look, Y/N, I have something to tell you.’ Your heart beat quickened as he looked at you with such emotion in his eyes you thought they’d burn through your head. Your head was in such a turmoil. He claimed to have something to tell you - which he really should be getting started with if he wanted to cover everything that he was making you experience. But at the same time you wondered if you were simply being over dramatic.

You didn’t say anything, neither did you shake or nod your head. You just kept looking at him, while his hands held yours.

'I’m not- you know…I don’t- you have- no- agh!’ He let out an exasperated growl, leaving your hands and holding his head, turning to face forward, away from you. You stared at him, before everything seemed to fall into place, excruciatingly slow, like how it happened while solving a math problem. Memories of unnatural occurrences slipped their way into your head while Taehyung sat there, trying to figure out how to break the news, subtly but not so subtly to you.

The silhouette in your room that night, when you had found a feather on your floor; the time he would just appear and disappear in front of you, but you thought it was just your eyes playing tricks on you; the time he had brought you from the window to your bed, and today when he brought you to his house from the café all in just less than a second.

'You’re not human, are you?’ You completed his deserted sentence, your hands crossed over one on your lap, as he slowly picked his head up. You half expected a smart-ass retort like 'You don’t say!’ from him. But given the circumstances, that really wasn’t close to helping to make any progress. Besides, that sounded more like what you would have said. Not him. But, still.

'What?’ He looked you, his hands in front of him, his body still bent over.

'You’re not like me. You’re different. That’s why you always seem very out of place in a normal place like the café. That’s why you always look different to me. You’re different.’ Now you knew what you had been trying to say since the first time you let him know what you had thought of him. And the time when you had told him he was different, you didn’t how or why he was, but now; now you surely did.

A smile formed on his lips, but you could see it was sad. He looked at you with melancholy eyes before he turned his body to you. Scooting closer, he cupped your cheek with one of his hands. It was warm. Warm and inviting. Almost impossible to resist to lean into.

'You’re not afraid?’ You saw specks of red glistening in his dark brown orbs, when the reminiscent of the nightmare crashed into you. Your eyes widened, Could it be?

But something - you didn’t know if it was in his eyes, or the way he spoke to you, or the way he was holding you - something made you shake your head. No.

He nodded his head. He hadn’t told you what he really was, and neither was he planning on telling it anytime soon. After all, he could only reveal things one by one. And he wasn’t even sure of how you would react to it. Sure, you held a certain fascination to Fallen Angels - you had said so yourself and sure you had taken this quite well. But, he knew that hearing tales of one, and actually meeting one were completely different scenarios with different outcomes.

But you had a feeling you already found out what he was. And even if you were right or wrong, the image you had of him in his true self, was just as beautiful to you as it was frightening.

[Part 18 on Sunday]