Born on a sunny November morning in 1960....

If Hector could, he would have transported himself back to the Bronx for his 28th birthday. For one morning he wished to wake up to the sounds of radios blasting in the early morning, the smell of his mother’s cooking, the sound of his parents getting along. He wished to feel the brisk breeze of a New York Novemeber morning, the tios on their way to construction jobs and tias getting themselves ready for shifts at the hospital or a day of cleaning other people’s homes. Just like his mother had done every morning of his childhood. He wished for the belonging, the sound of Spanish as the primary language, the deli owner on the corner, the abuelas playing their numbers. If he closed his eyes hard enough he was there and the sound of the flat top grill at the deli was sizzling behind him. If only. 

But despite this intense yearning, Hector still woke up with an ease on the morning of his birthday. His mom had insisted on him staying over so instead of music blasting, he had been woken up by his siblings and cousins and nieces and nephews. He knew it was a blessing, to have so many people who loved him, even if he was trying not to be pissed when one nephew accidentally elbowed him in the face trying to get out of bed. But after the scramble, he made it out of bed to find the table set with a full tres golpes meal, the smell of fried cheese and salami hitting him with such a sense of home, it was hard to want to be anywhere else. They sang Happy Birthday in English and Spanish and he spent half the morning on the phone as relatives from New York and DR called and sent their blessings. Hector knew that he was lucky. And even that was an understatement. 

And yet, despite it all, he was still waiting to hear from his father. He checked the mail for a card, ignored the look his mom gave him when she realized it was what he was searching for. He knew the call would come late, days from now if anything but he couldn’t rid himself of that yearning. So he tried to push it down, let his family showed him in love, picked out a good outfit and took his car out for a ride, already in search of the continued love he knew he’d get form the people around him. He was lucky and he knew that. Chandler was still alive and kicking and he had to admit that the idea of living with her had started to feel like an actual dream come true. A teenage prophecy and wish come to life. He had reconnected with Juliet in a way that had brought him back to himself. That had reminded him that even in his hardest times, he had never really been alone. And his new life had brought Eilowny, who, whether she knew it or not, had repaired his heart in ways he couldn’t even name. Heaven sent was how he liked to think about her. 

Hector knew that this life was his real life now. The life he had wanted. The baseball career, the money and fame, the pursuit of his one true passion. That life had ended and now lay before him a choice. He could wait around, wait for the killers to catch him and let his life end that way. Or he could try to live with the time he had. Make something meaningful out of it. Find a new passion. Find a new love to pursue. And maybe, finally, let the people who love him actually love him. It felt like too tall of a task but the closer he got to 30, the more he was learning. The more he was realizing. The more he had to live for. As he turned the corner, Shrike Heights Radio booming from the speakers, for a brief moment he felt in his chest, his heart and mind that maybe, finally, he was going to be okay. He was going to be just fine. 

ft. @bitcme @withncmercy @urdamage​

Stop adapting the iliad and the Odyssey into movies. You'll never succeed. Adapt them into shounen anime, as is their god given right

In another edition of cetaceans breaching, I present to you my beloved Hector's/Māui's Dolphin, (Cephalorhyncus hectori). Every photo of these little guys jumping out of the water is equally adorable and chaotic and I love them for that.

What is even going on here?

They're leapin'.

Helenus and Cassandra

no!! stop running!!!

i need to tell you that he held out his arms to take his baby!!!

but the child squirmed around and began wailing terrified by his father’s helm!!!!

and his father began laughing and his mother laughed as well!!

and from his handsome head he took it and placed it on the ground!!

and he kissed his son and swung him around!!!

and prayed that he would become better than him!!!

stop running this is important!!!!

Do you ever think about how both Odysseus and Hector were yanked into the war by their relations, how they both have small children they must leave to fight, how they both were so gentle with them and are so vicious in battle. The hands that rock the infant are the hands bathed in the blood of enemies, dripping red but comforting notheless. And do you ever think about how Odysseus couldn't see his son grow, day by day, but will, ultimately see him as a man, and how Hector has seen his own son grow day by day but will no more, a dead child? Why does this father and this son live? Why doesn't this one and the other?

Hector and Skamadrios have been reunited in death, at peace, finally, and Odysseus and Telemachus have been reunited in life, but will still have to spill blood to be at peace and idk where I was going with this but it's making me feral

I really love the fact that Odysseus doesn't hear a baby crying while in the Underworld in Epic despite fearing it. In a way, I'd like to think that Astyanax/Scamandrius isn't crying because he's being comforted by Hector.

hunter's moon

thinking about how Hector was "man-killer" to the Greeks, but "horse-breaker" to the Trojans. how it takes tenderness and patience and devotion to get a wild horse to trust you, let alone let you ride it. how hector's life and relationships to others, even the gods, are defined by devotion, and how it wins him both honor and his own death. how hector thinks he can approach achilles like a spooked horse, but achilles is a dog and not only a dog, but a dog that has nothing left. how even the wildest horse has the desire for food and comfort, but hector has never met a horse that wants to die. anyways how's your day going

hector 💖 ronnie

Hector Wardrobe Aesthetic Moodboard (1/?)

gods' blessing

No perfection. No pandering. No standard for what is “good”.

Fuck “polish”. Fuck “marketing”. Fuck it.

It doesn’t have to be pretty. It doesn’t have to be deep. It doesn’t have to be revolutionary.

You don’t have to be a master of The Craft. You just have to be the master of YOUR craft— and it’s up to you to decide what that is!

It has to be yours. It has to serve you first. If creation is a part of your being, if you need it to survive and thrive, you are an artist!

When and if you release your art into the world, may it help you connect to the universe.

Speaking of how Troy 2004 has personally offended me:

They took sandpaper and went to town on Hector. Smoothed out all his imperfections because how can good man also be bad man sometimes oh no my brain can't deal with that.

Also they didn't make him nearly as scary as he should be. Hector in the iliad is the. Scariest. The achaeans are terrified of him. Like he's the guy that walks on the battlefield and people run for their lives. He can lift boulders. He gets his ribcage smashed and gets back up like ten minutes later (granted, that's apollo, but in the god-less universe of troy they could've used it to make him even scarier) He doesn't go home all clean, he goes home and talks to his wife and holds his son while covered in gore. It's stressed that nobody but Achilles can beat him. He nearly burns the ships. He boasts and commits hybris after killing Patroclus.

Hector is the unbeatable war machine that makes mistakes sometimes, that morphs into a loving, smiling dad when he sees his son. The unbeatable war machine that's keeping an entire city safe, that gets scared and runs for his life when he knows he's in actual danger. That in the second-to-final moment has to be tricked into bravery, to stand and fight, so he has the chance at the final moment to recover from that and be supremely brave again and run straight to death, with his mind set on glory. Because he's extremely human right to the end. And his pride is as huge as his feeling of duty and love.

Also they took away that great scene where he's like "fuck your bird signs" he was such a legend for that in the iliad.

Marc and Hector are such cuties. Their friendship is so goals it’s almost pedrigavi like to me😕😕