Manfred Von Richtofen, Ernst Udet (germany) William Bidshop, Edward Mannock (england) René Fonck, Georges

i call this the 'I'm normal about media' moodboard

you are my sunshine

my only sunshine

you make me happy

when skies are gray

you’ll never know dear

how much i love you

please dont take

my sunshine away

Me because the Percy Jackson series is actually about the different cycles of abuse, which include abuse within romantic partners (Sally and Gabe), abuse between “family” (Percy and Gabe, Meg and Nero), abuse from people in positions of power (the gods over the demigods), and so on, oppression than ranges from having adhd in the public educational system to being forced to perform quests for your entire life for people who could not care less about your well-being, how camp is both somewhere safe but also the bittersweet taste of arriving there and realizing you can never escape, you can never be normal your life will never be the same. There’s no turning back. How Luke was right on theory but not on acts, how these kids got around the idea to never make it to 18, and how there was nothing they could do about. How many of them sat in their cabins, counting down the days until their sibling/friend/partner came back, only for them to not come back at all. Was it ever their turn to leave someone waiting behind? Annabeth, Percy, Grover, Thalia, the whole deal with Nico, Bianca, Silena, and every single demigod. Children of Apollo were the camp healers, was it a choice? A moral obligation? In camp Jupiter there’s Jason, there’s Reyna, Piper’s story, Leo’s story, the way Jason and Piper’s relationship was heteronormativity pushed by Hero because both of them were queer but she wanted a perfect couple. After being gone missing, people searched for Percy, but Jason? The devastation of Leo and Jason’s relationship, how Leo never knew his feelings for him were required, how both Leo and Piper thought they knew Jason but it was all fake memories, how Jason never fully got his memories back. Hazel’s story, Frank’s story, how Nico and Leo’s mutual dislike for each other comes from a place of understatement. How they both see themselves in each other and look away as one looks away from a mirror when they dislike their reflection. They are both so similar, almost the same. They both are also autistic, except Leo is always masking, and Nico never really learnt how to. Neurodivergence, adhd and dyslexia. Being a demigod is a metaphor for neurodiversity. Was Dionysus actual punishment looking over camp? Or was it spending years and years seeing demigods come and grow and die? Knowing there was nothing he could do about it? Knowing than if he was with the gods, he would be causing their deaths, instead of grieving them? Does Chiron feel hopeless? Memory, names, ghosts. Blades, swords, arrows, blood. So many blood, blood-stained hands. Monsters follow you before coming to camp, did they hurt you family? It was all your fault. They don’t want you to come back, you bring danger, you’re more dangerous than the monster, you are a monster yourself, after all the Minotaur was a demigod too. Leo killed his mother, Zeus killed Maria, Sally got taken to the underworld, Tristan was held hostage, Fredrick and his wife and sons got attacked by monsters, and who’s fault it was? You run away you keep on running but you’ll never outrun the danger because the danger is yourself, you are at fault, how do you run away now?

The odyssey, the iliad, the statues in museums, you look at them, do you see yourself? Do you see any resemble? Your nose kinda looks like theirs, the shape of their lips, the width of their hands, but that’s a lie you’re nothing like them, never will be, is that a tragedy? Do you want to be like them? Do you want to be a hero and die a heroic death? Or do you simply wish to visit your family on Christmas and live the life your little cousins will eventually live? Maybe you’ll never see the life they’ll live, maybe you’ll die before seeing it. There’s nothing to be done about that, you just have to accept it. Don’t you feel the rage, bubbling inside of you, making your hands shake? What can you do with it? Not much, remember last time, remember Luke, what did he accomplish? Nothing, blood, screams. You remember the war, you remember the city, maybe it was the first or the second time you set a foot on it, now every single time you do (if you do) in the future, it will be tainted. Look in that corner, that used to be destroyed. Look at that building, my friend died against that wall, that road was filled with blood. Was it ours? Theirs? Is there even a difference between us? Should there be? Why were you on your side? Why were they in theirs? Who was right? Who was wrong? You can go anywhere but home, maybe you’re not welcomed, maybe there’s no home to return, maybe it’s better for everyone if you don’t return. Nico keeps Bianca’s jacket, Leo taps iloveyou on Morse code. Piper was forced to be someone she wasn’t, she thought she was someone she was not, she was forced to think that. Who is she? Is she even who she thought she was? Jason still don’t remembers everything, and him? Who is he? Nico will never get his memories back, he wonders about his mom, did he have more family back then? Grandparents, aunts? Hazel is a walking curse. Silena and Clarisse as Patroklos and Achilles. Apollo seeing the brutal reality of demigod’s life on trials of apollo.

Your hand shakes, the sword you hold moves, you feel it’s weight, do you want to hold it? Do you have to?

The dead come back to haunt us, Nico sees Bianca everywhere, Leo still remembers his mother’s voice, Hazel came back from the dead, Frank holds his life on his pocket, Thalia lost a brother twice, Leo didn’t really die, Jason died instead, Percy wished to drown himself, half of camp still waits for their brother to come back, even if it has been months, even if it has been years. Luke’s mother still waits, was she crazy? The campers who thought to recognize their friend’s face for a second before remembering than it couldn’t possibly be them, were they crazy too? Who was crazier? Luke’s mother who did not remember, or the campers who did? The underworld has no mercy only justice, but the world has no justice only mercy. You might get mercy, but you never will get justice. Was it fair anything than happened to them? You might be spared in a war or in a battle out of mercy, out of pity, out of recognition, but that didn’t stop you from having to fight in it, that didn’t stop you from having to wield the sword. Spare all the people you want, turn a blind eye to whatever you want, mercy? sure, but you were still holding the sword, you were still supposed to fight, you still weren’t in charge of your life. How was that justice? How was that fair? Names had power, even their names had more power than your life, even the letters making up their names were more powerful than your fists, could you ever win? Could you ever win when their names were so powerful they could not be pronounced but your life was so worthless they didn’t even care to learn yours? To learn the names of the ones than died because of them. You can’t say the name of you sister’s killer, but you’re still expected to burn an offering to them each night at dinner.

i don’t know guys sometimes i just feel like i am hungry i have been hungry i was born hungry what do i need i am something i have been something i was born something what could i be there is a light that i can see but only it seems when there’s darkness in me there is a dream that i sometimes see but only appears in the dark of sleep i am waiting i have been waiting i was born waiting i was born waiting for that something just one something i was born something i was born there is a light that i can see but only it seems when the dark surrounds me there is a dream and it sleeps in me keeps me awake in the night crying set me free and i wake every night crying set me free

What does it feel like to be lonely? It feels like being hungry: like being hungry when everyone around you is readying for a feast. It feels shameful and alarming, and over time these feelings radiate outwards, making the lonely person increasingly isolated, increasingly estranged. It hurts, in the way that feelings do, and it also has physical consequences that take place invisibly, inside the closed compartments of the body. It advances, is what I’m trying to say, cold as ice and clear as glass, enclosing and engulfing.

— Olivia Laing, The Lonely City: Adventures in the Art of Being Alone

reblog if your icon is a perfect human being

This saved my life

Reading amazing fanfiction, then forgetting to bookmark it

"In Hell, you blockhead!"

No seriously wtf charlie

war knocks on your door with ironed clothes and clipped greetings, jaws closed around your father’s throat like a noose before he can even try to invite it in. your mother doesn’t tell you much, but you’ve heard the news on the wireless, heard the words your father sent you away for, heard them from your perch atop the stairs, nails digging into your older brother’s shoulder and silent tears begging for your other siblings not to wake.

war shakes your father’s hand and drags him out before he can let go. your mother’s shaking fingers brush down her skirts with care. she asks you to help her with the chores, her smile too wide and eyes too wet. you pretend not to hear her at the kitchen table late at night, trying her hardest not to let you hear her grief. she joins the factory, irons her work clothes with a sigh, and comes home to scrub her hands until the skin is raw. 

war pushes down on your family like lead. your siblings drag their feet, their shoulders curved forward and down in slouches that make your chest ache. you brush down your dress and tell them to straighten up, to take steps with purpose. it doesn’t work often, your voice far different than that of your mother or father. you don’t know how to make them listen. the binding of the book in your lap creaks under your curling hands, your brother rolls his eyes and stomps up the stairs like a wild animal, his shoes a tripping hazard for all that dare come after him. your sister—curled up in that armchair nobody else dares touch in your younger brother’s presence anymore—cries into the bear your father presented her with on her sixth birthday. your older brother stumbles after you all like a shadow with a cracking voice, failing as much as you when it comes to commanding order. he makes your mother tea, carries the laundry, tries his hardest to fix the sink. he yells when things go wrong, as desperate as you to help. it doesn’t make a difference.

war draws shadows under your mother’s eyes as she brushes her thumbs over your cheeks and tells you to be a big girl. your younger brother doesn’t listen and your sister cries. you don’t know how to do this, how to hold yourself like the woman sending you into the unknown to keep war’s blood-stained grip away. you brush down your clothes, straighten your brothers’ jackets even as one flinches under your touch and the other almost crumbles between your shaking fingers. you hold your sister and pray for war to walk away.

war hands you weapons amidst melting snow, your older brother’s hands stain red, your sister sobs into the fur of a lion you can’t help but curse just a little, and your younger brother’s bruised face won’t look at you straight on.

your bow creaks under your curling hands. war greets you with a smile.

BISEXUALITY ATTRACTION

so many people asume that bisexuality works like this:

but it differs from person to person 

for me it is more like this:

or some days this:

for some people it works like this:

or

it just depends on them and their feelings

some times people are more attracted to one gender rather than the other, that does not make them any less of a bisexual