#support: hector

[higaneion]

He was an awful father.

Didn't even know his own daughter's birthday until he'd heard some of her classmates whispering about it. Hadn't even thought to ask, though he felt quite the cad in hindsight.

He'd started wracking his brain immediately of course, but... what did one give to their daughter of strange circumstances?

What had her Hector gotten her?

Box in hand, Hector stood now at her door, and knuckles rapped lightly against the grain of its wood. If he were lucky, she'd not have heard, and he could make quick his escape before he'd a chance to muddle things up too badly.

'Nervous' didn't cover the half of it.

"Ah, um, g'mornin Lilina..." A greeting missing his usual hearty boom.

He ran a hand through the fuzz at the nape of his neck. Oof.

"I heard-- uh, well, I wanted to say, happy birthday!"

Whether she shows up at the door or he has to leave the package before it, it contains the following:

a matching bathrobe and slippers in bold hues of crimson red; a whetstone, 'for the aspiring axe-wielder' if he'd spied correctly over at the training grounds; and a flaky meat pie of turtledove and pork and spices and potatoes, a la Ostia.

Happy birthday, a note within read. Don't forget to rest up now and again. I know you've been working hard. -H v O.

The writing is neater than his norm. What she doesn't see are the multiple scrapped letters, some which say more, some which say less.

He can but hope the sentiment comes across.

By the time Lilina had returned from a full day of classes she already had the rest of her day planned out. Her birthday was… nothing special. After spending the last the way she did, she had no want for any fancy celebration that might have been warranted on special order while she lived at the castle. She picked up a new book from the library and perhaps she may seek a friend out at most, but she was content to not spend it in tears and fear at least.

Her head tilts upon finding a package by her door. In all honesty, she hadn’t expected anything at all. What friends she did have here she hadn’t known long enough or it just had no need to come up in conversation. She picks up the package and opens the letter as she takes it inside.

She would know that handwriting anywhere, but even still she cannot help but smile at the very practiced style of the letters. Lilina clutches the letter to her chest, expression still bright on her face as she collapses back first on the bed. So he remembered, he thought of her. 

Rolling to sit back up and unpack what she received, she lets out a soft gasp at each item. The bathrobe and slippers were velvety soft to the touch and red was of course her favorite color. The whetstone and pie she holds in her hands observing each. 

Pie in hand, she stands and begins her search to find him. What good was a birthday celebrated without family? She could share with her father and thank him. Perhaps she would even suggest that he show her one day how to sharpen her own axe. 

[making-dough]

♠ - A blushing maiden, she was not. Or, at least, she shouldn't be. She wasn't Florina. She got up to more than enough hijinks (mostly while drunk off-her-ass but that's an aside) that it felt kinda hypocritical to get majorly embarrassed anymore.

That, and there was only ever so many ways to try to catch a runaway rodent crawling all over her body. Some level of handsy-ness was to be expected. Even if she was kinda happy he didn't get too hand-sy. If there was one thing she'd pride herself for, it was in a being a rational pragmatist. There was absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about here. He was just pinning the damned thing down, right? Nothing to be embarrassed about!

So, why on earth could she swear she can feel her cheeks burning? It's not like he hasn't got a perfectly valid reason to get this close. Or was being anything but decently gentlemanly, given the circumstances. Not to mention, he wasn't even half bad-looking... This was roughly the point at which Farina decided that thought needed to be suplexed into oblivion before it got into dangerous territory.

Alright, distraction. She needs a distraction. A jingle of coin quickly sounded. Okay, that worked for a distraction. A jingle coming from their now-rodent-y hostage carrying something that looked weirdly familiar....

Wait, she definitely recognised that. "Hold on. Is that my purse?", she burst out, doing her best to pretend her cheeks were burning from anger instead. "How did you even-" Her seventh purse, if she'd recognised the cloth patterns correctly. Unconsciously, she realised it raised the question of what she was doing carrying around that many purses. To which, she would proudly declare that she was a firm believer of the many baskets theorem, that being if you store your valuables in a lot of different places, one random lucky thief can't instantly beggar you.

Granted, seven was probably a little excessive. No, never mind that, her seventh purse was held firmly to the inside of her coat by a... Farina reached into her coat, felt around and eventually produced a broken bit of string, the other end clearly being chewed off. "Ah, you've got teeth. Clever.", she muttered in a tone of voice that indicated she didn't think it was clever at all.

"Now, give that back, you little thief!", she growled out, swiping a hand up to snatch at the purse. "The hell do you even need that for?" What? Was there now little squirrel vendors with their own little squirrel shopkeeps selling squirrel products? The thought was adorable but probably not what was actually happening here. "I'd expect this from magpies. Why am I getting this from flippin' squirrels?!"

As he inched forward, a rare hesitation on display, Hector couldn’t help but think:

better her than him.

Wait, no, that wasn’t right–

ahem.

Well. Supposed there was a reason she was the one being paid the big bucks, right?

Wait. That wasn’t quite the right train of thought either, now was it?

Bah!!

And with that, he’d swooped his cloak about her, all snug as a bug. Aha! Success! He stared for a moment, and she stared back, until she oh so helpfully reminded him: they weren’t done yet.

“Ack! Um, just a second… And uh, let me know if it starts biting, I guess.”

Shuffling around to Farina’s backside, Hector tentatively pawed at the squirming lump moving about, wary of landing his mitts anywhere, ah, undignified. Blessedly, the squirrel saved him the trouble and the potential of impending doom both.

And grab the squirrel, Hector did, cloak slowly coming free as he let go to carefully hold their hostage instead.

Turn it into soup, however, Hector did not. Instead, he focused on staring at what the critter had procured during its foray about, um, . Enemy territory. Brow furrowed in confusion.

Not an acorn. Definitely not an acorn. Not a pinecone either. And was that the jingle of coin, or did his ears mislead him?

“What’s this it’s got…?”

[archivingbarca]

fcbarcelona: Our favorite yearbook #MadeinLaMasia

(ig, 04/06/24)

[literallyjusttoa]

you said you wanted it on a pride flag so :)

Ok I’ve been on a plane for 2 hours and this is the first thing I saw once it landed. Idk what that’s a sign of but it def means something.

[whos-lucy]

Omg I LOVE YOUR STYLE AAAA could I get a doodle of Five and Miko being silly together??? 👀👀👀 maybe baking together but Miko accidentally sets the oven on fire? (F)

shes trying 😭😭

[discordsmuse]

LIAR'S BET UPDATE

Come and get er

[blackjackkent]

All right. Let's get Minsc back!

I learned (a bit) from my last attempt at this with Hector and am actually putting our frontline fighters ahead of the backline ones for purpose of walking through the little tiny tunnel in which we enter the Minsc Combat Zone.

Conveniently, since Jaheira will be going owlbear mode, this allows me to put her in front and continue my headcanon that she is no longer making a pretense of Rakha being the leader on this particular scenario. She is tired, she is angry, she is lonely, and she Wants. Her. Friend. Back.

She halts in the sewer tunnel, seeing the pacing bulk of the Rashemaar, then turns and puts out a hand abruptly against Rakha's arm. Her eyes go hard and steady, looking up to meet Rakha's.

"Hear me a moment, cub," she says quietly. "We have spoken of your blood, of the hunger it gives you to kill. And I have said that I will stand with you, that I will guide you. Well, let me guide you now."

Rakha blinks, raising one eyebrow slightly, and then nods.

Jaheira waits for this acknowledgement, then goes on. "I think we will find many cultists in there, including that fiend that wears my face. Do what you will with them. But lay a hand on Minsc with murder in your mind, and I will not stay my hand in answer. Are we clear?"

A long silence. Then Rakha nods again. "Yes," she says, low, gutteral - and completely firm. She has seen Jaheira's building strain over the last few days; she does not doubt the truth of the druid's words now. More to the point, she agrees with them. She does not want to kill Minsc; she has not followed his trail all the way here only to lose control now.

Jaheira searches her expression intently for a long moment, and then nods, drawing back. "Let us go, then."

-----

The cistern proper is a large open room, shrouded in foul-smelling fog. Long-abandoned and rusted mechanisms line the walls, along with heavy iron pipes snaking in and out of the stonework. Several hooded Bhaalists prowl the edges of the room, and at the far end stands Minsc with his doppelganger partner - and a small and surprisingly familiar figure engaged in intent conversation with them.

"All the coin seems to be there, if a little blood-stained," Roah Moonglow is saying cheerfully as Rakha and the others draw carefully within earshot in the cistern's shadowy entrance. She clicks her tongue, amused, and peers up at the two taller figures with sardonic humor. "You lot are enthusiastic about your Lord's work."

"Our Lady," the creature wearing Jaheira's face growls. "We serve only the Absolute."

Roah laughs. She doesn't seem at all bothered by the other woman's air of threat; Rakha gets the distinct impression that Roah has stared down enough people taller than her that it no longer troubles her a jot. "Silly me," the halfling deadpans. "We Zhentarim are so long past our own godly roots, I'm afraid I forget the half of them."

She turns her head to eye Minsc, and for a moment a little of the brittle facade fades, replaced by honest curiosity. "But you I know," she says thoughtfully. "When did you start worshiping gods?" Again the flash of a taunting grin. "Did they give your wee rodent a worm friend too?"

Rakha edges further into the sewer just enough to see Minsc flinch abruptly at the words. He looks as if someone has struck him - or, more to the point, as if something is striking him from within. Rakha knows that expression. She's felt it on her own face many times.

"Rodent?" he whispers unsteadily.

"Enough!" the false Jaheira snarls before Roah can clarify. "You will show the Stone Lord proper respect! And you will return to the Guildhall and do as we have paid you to."

Roah swallows, her composure cracking just a little. "Of course," she says hastily. "I only thought--"

"Wait."

The pain has faded from Minsc's face, and as he looks up, his eyes fix directly on Rakha, as if he has cut aside all the shadows that cover her. Then his gaze turns from her to Jaheira, and his expression hardens almost to the stone he has been named for.

"Flop all you wish, little fish," he growls, and the basso grumble of his voice resonates all the way to the room's high ceiling. "But Minsc has caught you!"

At once all of the Bhaalists are on guard, and the doppelganger draws her scimitars with a nasty smile. Rakha sees the glint out of the corner of her eye as Jaheira's blades flash into her hands in answer.

Roah grins broadly and immediately begins to backpedal towards the ladder that leads out of the room. "On that note - good luck!" she calls as she goes. "The job will be done by the time you get to the guildhall."

And then she's gone, and the Bhaalists close ranks. And as fire flares out from Rakha's fingers towards one of the cultists, she hears Jaheira's voice rising in alarm over the din of combat - no wise and controlled counsel now but pure desperate pleading:

[streets-in-paradise]

Good luck on your TSOA read bro its literal garbage, godspeed to you 😭🫡

Thanks!!

I got genuinely intrigued about what people find so great about it after reching a point of angering exahustion with its fanbase. I have to constantly read them arrogantly bitching in the Troy tag like if that book would have been written by Homer himself. Everytime i get excited about a new post in the tag, is them again trashing troy like if it was irredemable garbage.

For this reason, I am kinda feeling like " let's see what your supposed ' superior most accurate adaptation' is about."

I didn't actually search for it, but i stumbled with it on internet archive while digging for some Troy lost media and my " someday i am going to read tsoa and give this people a taste of their own medicine " found an oportunity to come true.

So far I only read the first couple of chapters. Despite I have my own pre reading hypotesis, I try to remember the scientific method and present my critics in the less biased way even when I know they don't have the same kindness with Troy.

I already gave up in one front and expect women will be treated like shit, but the one thing that terrifies me is the treatment of Hector. So far, and I only got to read the childhood chapters, everyone arround Patroclus is so fucking mean for nothing. I think I have valid reasons to fear how the book will portray his killer.

[roysourblog]

@braveryinblue !!

As the future Marquess, he can’t exactly afford anyone to know of his weaknesses. After all, he and his father were both called to wars; and according to Merlinus (as well as his own opinion), a leader shouldn’t have any largely known weaknesses. Truly, it was a wonder how his father was able to get around on horseback, for fear of any stray halberd doing him in. Fears, of course, must not be revealed lightly.

But oh, if just for a moment, it would be nice to be entirely sure in himself. To know that his judgment did not hold the flaws he feared, to be as certain in his abilities as his subordinates believed them to be.

He approached the man steadily, continuing to weigh his choice with every step. Regardless of his certainty, darn his boots, he arrived, and the man looked down at him with curious eyes. Not too prying, but curious nonetheless.

“My only fear,” Roy starts, “Is failing to always believe in myself. I’ve been leading an army for the past year and a half, and everyone believes in me wholeheartedly. They’ve followed me, trusted me with their lives, through the whitest snowstorms and the blackest darkness. But, I don’t understand the faith they placed in me, and I’m scared that one day they’ll find that their faith was ultimately misguided.”

The man behind the booth merely observed him. He stood as a statue behind the counter. Roy shuffled his feet nervously.

“Can you help me let go of this fear? Being afraid of one day finding myself having not been good enough?”

Just as he finishes his request, the man instead looks above him. Roy turns on instinct, finding himself staring into the large chest of an equally large man.

His shadow looms over Roy, and he backs up to get a good view of the man. “Woah, you look just like…”

danger is real. fear is a choice

mission

[rafeandonlyrafe]

Okok so we know you love rafe, but what do u think abt Zach? Are you just a drew starkey lover in general?

i actually saw the other zoey in theaters and treated it like it was a concert lol

yes i loooove zach. i was considering writing for him but it clashes with the username idk 😭 id also write for trevor from hellraiser maybe

i think drew is very attractive but i try very hard not to stan celebrities which is why i stick to fictional characters. i also don't like to write for real people anymore (not trying to be a hater if you do write rpf, im simply not into writing it myself) so i will never write for drew but he's def my celebrity crush!!

[thatweirdguyinthebushes]

you're all over me .

alt versions

[lore-gayol-15]

Ho my God! Thank you for notes… That was very fast!!!... Hahahaha ha… Thank you! thank! you…. Ho yes! In this profile we love to hector rivera of coco pixar… Yes or yes?? Ok, this draws are a little old but dont worry, in the future I do more. ☺️… Thank you again!!!! 🙏🙏🙏

[higaneion]

@braveryinblue

on the wings of a dream

braveryinblue:

She’s crying and he doesn’t know what to do about it. What can he do about it? Even if this is a dream, he lacks control, and if everything threatens to spiral, then…

“Disappoint me?”

He’s shocked back to his senses, if briefly.

Maybe he wasn’t sure earlier, when attempting to soothe her, attempting to convince her that everything is all right, is okay. But if there’s one thing he feels and knows, deep down, with all his might, it’s that

“You could never disappoint me. I promise.”

Lilina.

What must he say to assure her that this is the truth?

After a moment’s thought, he pulls back, if slightly, one arm still somewhat awkwardly held around her. Gingerly. The other reaches with clumsy and unpractised gentleness to wipe at the corners of her eyes.

Something catches the corner of his eyes just beyond them, back where the throne ought to have been. A shift.

Is the dream coming to an end so soon? He feels a pit in his gut.

“… I’ll see you again, right? After this dream ends? I’ve never heard your voice before now…” Only shades, echoes of it. She sounds the same and yet different to what he’d expected.

Brow furrows with concern.

“We’ll speak again, will we not?”

Only just does Hector manage to keep a quiver of uncertainty from seeping in.

“Really?” Her voice is small and uncertain of his words. “I am a warrior’s daughter, not son, who can’t help but fall apart at the smallest worries.”

           And as if on cue, his hands come to wipe her tears away. She wants to say it made her feel better, but it is all bittersweet. Every word that tumbles from him awkwardly is another pain to her heart, a reminder of how this too, shall pass. 

           This was all a dream, there was no possible way he was here. ( Right? ) And when it ends, he will not be just down the hall or attending some duty his title demands of him. She will awaken curled up only with the memory of his ghost. Her hands grip the fabric that clings to his back, silently hoping she could have just a little while longer. 

           A long sigh leaves her and she shifts her gaze to look back up at him. No, she couldn’t spoil this moment. It was her turn to reassure him, but even as she opens her mouth, words do not come. Burying her head into his already tear stained shirt, she nods, finding that as the only possible response.

[granitxhka]

"we have 4 finals left to play guys focus" "real arsenal fans aren't celebrating until the season is over" for the love of everything that is beautiful in the world, shut up

[moku-and-his-madness]

hey i'm confused by ur pinned post and it doesn't rlly seem like it but do u still support wilbur??

him as a human being, no. i think what he did was wrong and immoral.

and im a guy who can sepperate the art from the artist. but im not really making a big deal abt him anymore. i dont listen to his music as often and i dont rlly sketch him anymore either

but im not getting pissy over it. i just prefer to kindly stay out of the drama.

is alr to be confused, im a confusing guy sometimes

thanks for asking

[the-crow-binary]

Boys being boys ❤️ Just two coworkers working ❤️ Serving Dracula ❤️