#hephaestion amyntoros

[strategist-scientia]

Hephaestion must be rolling in his 2,348-year-old grave knowing that he's the cause of homophobic dudebros crying on twitter rn 🤭

[dhampiravidi]

k, so: BRUNETTE & BLOND(E), couples, tag ‘em! Bonus points if 1 or both of them is queer bc Pride 🌈 ! Here’s my list:

Blue Beetle (Ted Kord) & Booster Gold (Michael Jon Carter) ☑️

Caleb Danvers & Pogue Parry [depends on the lighting] ☑️

Black Bat OR Batgirl (Cassandra Wu-San Wayne) & Spoiler (Stephanie Brown) ☑️

Peggy Carter & Captain America (Steve Rogers)

Valkyrie (Brunhilde) & Thor Odinson ☑️

Jean Grey & the White Queen (Emma Frost) ☑️

Aline & Helen Penhallow-Blackthorn ☑️

Kieran Kingson, Cristina Rosales & Mark Blackthorn ☑️

Psyche & Eros [hair colors are my HC]

Hyacinthus & Apollo [“ “] ☑️

Jack Sparrow, Will Turner & Elizabeth Swann ☑️

the Darkling (Aleksander Morozova) & Nikolai Lantsov ☑️

Percy Jackson & Annabeth Chase

Percy Jackson & Riordanverse!Apollo ☑️

Hephaestion Amyntoros & Alexandros ☑️

Patroklos & Akhilleus ☑️

Midnighter (Lucas Trent) & Apollo (Andrew Pulaski) ☑️

AND FINALLY: John “Soap” MacTavish & Simon “Ghost” Riley ☑️

[ofmodernmyths]

THE LIBRARY

"On the night of Alexander’s birth, tradition alleged, the temple of Artemis was burnt down. The local Persian Magi interpreted this as an omen of further disasters to come. They ‘ran about beating their faces and crying aloud that woe and great calamity for Asia had that day been born’, a firebrand that was destined to destroy the entire East. The night before her wedding, similarly, Olympias dreamed she was penetrated by a thunderbolt, so that fire gushed out of her womb, spreading far and wide before it was extinguished. A month or two later Philip also had a dream: he was sealing up his wife’s vagina, and the wax bore the stamped device of a lion. Some of the palace seers took this to mean that Philip should keep a closer watch on his wife. But Aristander of Telmessus - who afterwards accompanied Alexander to Asia - had a more acceptable explanation: Olympias was pregnant, and with a spirited, lion-like son. One did not, he told Philip, put a seal on an empty jar.”

Alexander of Macedon, 356-323 B.C: A Historical Biography, Peter Green, 1974 (2013 reprint).

+ complementary reading: Alexander’s Lovers (second edition), Andrew Chugg, 2006.

[farrellleto]

This isn't the date of Alexander's death. This is the day when he reunited with Hephaestion who greeted him with a smile on his face and love in his heart, and Alexander lived again.

[jeannereames]

Could you make a case for Alexander and Hephaestion being lovers ? The historical figures

Already did. It’s right here, probably the paper of mine that gets downloaded the most:

“An Atypical Affair? Alexander the Great, Hephaistion Amyntoros, and the Nature of Their Relationship.”

It’s 20+ years old now, so I’ll update it a bit when I get around to the monograph, but I haven’t altered my main argument. I just need to refine it in response to some of Sabine Müller’s work.

(I don’t mean this to sound cheeky or dismissive, just figured it’s easier to point to the paper.)

[atlasxrose]

@xander-amyntoros​

The first day had passed, and while Atlas could not gather the will to get out of bed, he instead remained buried under the covers. In his gut a gnarled and hateful beast twisted upon itself, he blamed himself, he blamed his sister, he blamed Xander, he blamed Anastasia, he blamed the rifts, and he even found it in himself to blame Ajax. As if the reaper could be held accountable for his own death. The first day his lover had permitted Atlas’s indulgence of the dark, the quiet despondence that had overtaken the witch turned fury turned human. He supposed he understood it, if anyone understood pain and loss, it was Hephaestion. 

The second day Xander had made attempt at drawing open the blinds, at forcing light and fresh air into the foul-smelling chamber. He teased him that he needed a shower, but instead of coming back with a jest of his own or some sarcastic remark, Atlas merely rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. He didn’t eat, and he hardly drank. The world was quiet, still, and when he heard the door close at last, Atlas got up only to close the curtains. 

It was the third day when Atlas cried at last, it was accidental in a way. He awoke at some point in either the late evening or early morning - time was beginning to be something that Atlas thought on less and less. But when he awoke in the dark, with nothing but the deep snores of Xander beside him the thready wheezes of Kyon at their feet, Atlas reached for his phone. Sometimes when he couldn’t sleep he’d text him, and it was only when he was mid-sentence that he realized no one would be on the other end to receive it. 

His sobs had robbed Xander of whatever sleep he’d hoped to get that night, and instead he held Atlas against his battle-scarred chest until at last exhaustion overtook him once more and Hypnos spirited him away. Atlas awoke the next afternoon to the sound of Kyon whining at the end of the bed, Xander had been taking her to work the last few days, if only to give Atlas space to grieve. But, she wanted to be let out, she needed to be fed, to be given water, and if he didn’t do this then this room really was going to reek. 

Atlas let her out into the backyard and lingered in the door frame as she ran circles through the grass, herding invisible animals she’d likely never even met. He let his thoughts wander to goats, maybe another dog, the cats he’d been talking about getting for well over a year. Atlas kind of thought it was unfair that a sheep-dog would have nothing to shepherd, no friends other than the pair of men who doted on her as if she were a child. 

That night he managed to sleep, though his ear did not leave Xander’s chest, the steady thrum of the man’s heartbeat beneath his ear kept him warm, kept reminding him that they were alive. He let himself wonder for the first time what Ajax would say, what Ajax would do, he wondered only to himself in the dead of the dark if his friend had found happiness on the other side. So, the next day when he woke, he did so when Xander rose to leave for work, and saw him off even if a part of him wished the man could always stay. The museum had survived the storm, but the artifacts within were vulnerable, and they needed someone with knowledge and experience to oversee them and any reparations that were to occur. 

That morning when he let Kyon outside, he went with her. Off chain as Xander had so often put it. As a witch he’d always been attuned to nature, he could feel the magic in the buried roots of trees, the power that emanated from herbs and flowers. As a fury, magic was still part of his existence but it was... Different. Loud. There was an undercurrent of spite to it, of anger. It seeped into his bones and distilled his actions, his thoughts. It was like fire under his nerves, and Atlas had become so accustomed to it over the last few months that he hadn’t noticed it. 

Atlas and Kyon wandered from the yard, to the forest, and his footsteps must have followed a familiar path because after a few short hours of hiking, the now-human found himself in front of a hovel. Overgrown in its entirety, the fallen tree was now unrecognizable from the haven that it had once been, covered in lichen and faunce, as if still bewitched by the magic that had formed it, late-winter butterflies, and early-spring critters roamed it. He knelt into the soft grass, the earth that quenched and sank beneath his feet, and felt the forest beneath his fingertips.  Kyon wined for attention, then took off to busy herself by chasing about the creatures that she saw as toys: butterflies cowered in fear, squirrels ran off in terror, and Atlas could only laugh at her small displays of power. 

This place had been his refuge once, a place to hide away from the monsters of his past, and there, buried deep within, Atlas knew what lurked there still. What he had hoped to keep forgotten forever, it was a grudge, a curse from his past, one that pulled on his heart even now. He had no strength left in him to be petty, to be hateful, to be afraid, to resent anyone - it’s not what Ajax would have wanted. Atlas knew that, and however strong the trio had been, Jax was always the best of them. Deep within the rotted tree that was once his earthen home, Atlas found that which he’d kept secret, a jar, with a simple blue light within. There was no magic within the soul that it contained, not anymore, this purgatory that he had condemned Iris to was not his responsibility anymore. 

Atlas released the lid, and watched the spirit fade, hoping  her shade would make its way back to the Underworld where it belonged. 

On their journey home, Atlas stopped and gathered flowers as he once did, some stray herbs that always tasted better wild than they ever did when grown in a garden, or found in a market. He felt air entering his body again, felt the sun on his face, this was not magic, this was only living, and if Ajax was here then Atlas chose to believe that his friend would find a way to convince him to find a purpose in continuing. He was no longer a witch, no longer a weapon carved for vengeance - he was something else. Atlas was human, and perhaps at last he and Xander could have the life together they always wanted. 

When Atlas got home he had a long overdue shower, Kyon wined at the door the entire time, and after he was done thoroughly scrubbing the week’s worth of misery from his body, he set to hanging the flowers he’d hung across the kitchen window. The rich scent of lavender, hyacinth, and roses muddled with thyme and fragrant basil, all combined to be sweet, fragrant, rich. Atlas had intended to cook something for dinner, but he’d sat in front of his loom that he had moved to the kitchen window and lost track of time until he heard Xander enter through the front door and immediately head towards the bedroom. 

“I’m in here!” Atlas called out, he felt lighter now, still sad, perhaps there was a part of him that would always be sad. But he’d buried Jax months ago, and when he had done so last Atlas had supplemented the void that the man left with hate and vengeance. He chose this time to replace what he’d lost with love, and hope, that was his true nature, that was his destiny. Atlas saw that now, saw the spellbinding effect of being a fury for what it was, and all the years of grief he’d gone through that led him to that point. Kyon had been snoozing on his feet up until Xander opened the front door, now she bolted towards him, barking and yearning for attention. Atlas set his shuttle down and looked to Xander now as the other entered the kitchen, “I went outside today, you’d be proud.” 

[petrichorxathanasios]

@xander-amyntoros​

The pain had become tolerable, at least in a sense. His powers still felt distant to him, as if there was a wall of agony between where he was and where he needed to be. The old one’s thoughts were drawn to those who were kept from the storm, to the librarian that Petrichor had all but dismisses as a monster, to his sister who would fight the storm itself if she could. Gabriel would survive the storm, there was no doubt in his mind about that, Ptolema, too, was not so easily beaten. He was concerned for the others. For Lucas, for Sebastian, and of course for Rowan. She was perhaps even more headstrong than the others. Then, of course, there was Henry, he had revealed to the man much, but was it enough to keep the human alive?  “Tell me, Hephaestion,” Petrichor spoke when the two were well enough away from the crowd, Phoenix braced himself against one of the walls when they came to a stop, they were checking once more for any imperfections in the collapse, a gap that might afford them an escape. “you’ve lived your fair share of lifetimes, who do you think is behind this?”

[mylesxdelian]

@xander-amyntoros​

Few were the stories of mortal lives that were of enough interest to catch his attention all the way on the other side of the veil. Elysium was removed enough that Hykinthos did not need to pay attention to the tales that were spread about him if he did not need to. Hephaestion was one such man that he had heard of, well, Myles had heard first of Alexander The Great, his general and personal guard was a name that always came after. Inherently the man respected someone who, like him. had to fight their way out of another’s shadow, he knew all too well how difficult that could be. The Macedonian King who had nearly conquered the world had ended up in Elysium, in the end, he had assumed that Hephaestion would be waiting for him, but Persephone, it seemed, had had other plans. 

“So, this is where you’ve been keeping all this time.” Myles mused, his eyes cast squarely across the bar, his speech short and frank, direct he was not a man who cared to mince words. It was archaic, but as a child he had been raised to value brevity of speech, that hadn’t changed much over the years. Of the two of them, Apollo had always been the poet. “He still waits for you, you know.”

[ikarosxtheoinos]

@xander-amyntoros​

Ikaros had heard of Hephaestion’s death, men died everyday, but this loss had been significant at the time. While the Kobalos had been hellbent on his vendetta, he was still young, he thought all of life’s problems could be solved with a blade or poison. But the Fates were cruel, and the Gods had a way of bestowing checks and balances across all of their creations and those they had blessed. The King that Ikaros so despised had taken the loss hard, so profound was his grief that the poet’s would continue to compare them to some of the greatest love stories for generations to come. When they weren’t calling them friends, that was. 

Hephaestion was one of the last people Ikaros had expected to find in Corinth, though news of the man’s lack of an untimely death did not come as a complete surprise. The Gods were fond of their jokes. Once upon a time the two of them had had their fun, back when Ikaros was still playing the role of a dutiful soldier that fought to expand the reach of a unified Greece. And fought they had on a campaign that seemed to stretch the furthest reaches of the world. 

“So, the great general escaped death after all,” Ikaros commented easily, it had been thousand of years since they had last seen each other, how many lifetimes had he lived since then? Too many to count, but Hephaestion’s was not a face he would forget easily. “can’t say I’m surprised.” 

[strategist-scientia]

Things that make you sob in public 😢

[xander-amyntoros]

spill

Ahh yes, Xander.

Xander was originally built for a former RP as a different species. As everyone knows, I’m a giant ass nerd! History is my thing, specifically the Ancient Mediterranean cultures. Whenever you learn about the “ancient world,” however, many classes and studies end at Alexander the Great, because he brings along the Hellenistic Age and that’s a beast in and of itself. So me, finding out there was a species that could be THAT old, I created Xander. I turned him into an Ancient Greek and added one of my favorite lesser known historical figures to his little biography. Hephaestion Amyntoros (basically “son of Amyntor”) was the general of Alexander the Great’s Army + his “personal bodyguard” (wink wonk), beloved of Alexander, all the things. Basically, little is actually known about his childhood. He was written alongside a young Alexander because they were inseparable, learned under Aristotle, then joined the conquest of the “world” after Philip II’s murder. 

Alexander basically moved him up to be the 2nd in command for his empire, and even part of the royal family by marrying a Persian Princess, BUT he was sick for 7 days then died about 6-8 months before Alexander died. What did he die of? They think possibly internal bleeding from a disease similar to typhoid, though poisoning can never be ruled out. Alexander went mad with grief, made Hephaestion a divine hero, set up monuments for days, and was STILL planning monuments to his love when he died too. 

But what does this have to do with your character, Lauren?? Well, I’m SO glad you didn’t ask, but I’m going to tell you anyway.

I didn’t want to outright make my character some crazy famous living person. Hephaestion and Alexander were one of those “and they were roommates” stories by many older generation archaeologists and historians. Were they lovers? Probably. And I couldn’t not love an ancient gay love story. So here we have Xander! A depressed vampire who saw the fall of the ancient world, the boring Middle Ages, and the new world filled with technology. I always think about how sad he would be to see a world that thrived off of art and history and monuments come down to what it is today, where those archaeological sites are either still not found (like Alexander the Great’s tomb!!) or older sites are still buried beneath modern day cities. 

K bye.

[ofmodernmyths]

would you recommend the alexander biography by peter green? i've always stayed away from it bc i've read he /sorta/ hates hephaestion

Well, it’s more that he thinks that Hephaestion was kind of a useless idiot than he hates him, but he mentions him like 5 times over 500 pages so... you know, it’s really a biography of Alexander, and apparently a reference according to people who study Alexander.

I mean when you read the biography knowing that 1) Hephaestion won’t be mentioned much 2) not in a very good way, you’re prepared to what Green’s gonna say about him. It’s not the biography to read if you’re interested in Hephaestion and his relationship with Alexander, but that’s why I put the book by Andrew Chugg, where Hephaestion is treated rightfully.

So, long story short lol Green’s biography of Alexander is really good except for the part where he doesn’t think much/highly of Hephaestion. Hence the need to go with Andrew Chugg’s books. But overall, Green’s biography is, by far, the best biography of Alexander I’ve read (not that I’m a specialist but I have like four biographies of the man and Green’s the best by a long shot).

I think it all comes down to what you want to read in your biography. Green’s biography is academical stuff but it’s high quality as far as biographies go, so... Also, Green’s style is rather pleasant to read, so it’s a big bonus in my eyes!

[stillwaterseas]

 tagged by @zmediaoutlet - i like the concept of tag games as a slumber party!

Choose 10 favourite characters/people from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 other people.  

this was harder than anticipated but here we are (with bonus quotes bc it turns out sass is the common thread in my preferences)

1 - Granny Weatherwax, Discworld “We’re bound to be truthful. But there’s no call to be honest.” 2 - Laurent de Vere, Captive Prince “You cut his head off. It makes it a little difficult for him to suck your cock.” 3 - Steve Rogers, Marvel “Before we get started... does anyone want to get off?” 4 - Dean Winchester, SPN “You think you’re funny.” “I think I’m adorable.” 5 - Neal Caffrey, White Collar “I’ll admit I’ve done many things in my life I’m not proud of. No, wait. That’s not true. I’m proud of most of them.” 6 - Csevet Aisava, Goblin Emperor “We can write back at just as great a length as he, and give him no information at all.” 7 - CJ Cregg, West Wing “There are a thousand men working here and fifty women.” “Yeah, and it’s the bathrobes that are outrageous.” 8 - Juno Steel, The Penumbra Podcast “Where do you imagine yourself dying?” “In a cold ditch like everybody else.” “Oh, dream a little!” “Fine, a warm ditch.” 9 - Leonard “Bones” McCoy, Star Trek “Dammit Jim! I’m a doctor not a -” 10 - Hephaestion Amyntoros - does this count as a fandom? we are certainly crazy enough....

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Xander Amyntoros AGE & BIRTH DATE. 2,467 & January 9th, 356 BC GENDER & PRONOUNS. Male & He/Him SPECIES. Shapeshifter ( Blue Wyvern ) ; Former Human ; Former Vampire OCCUPATION. Bartender at Styx Nightclub FACE CLAIM. Bradley James

BIOGRAPHY

Ancient Greece is no longer a mystery to many today, and Xander is one who was born at the height of the ancient Greek empire. He was born around 356 BC as Hephaestion, son of Amyntor. He was born near Athens, and was thrown into a life that was going to be filled with war. The gods of the ancient world ruled his everyday life – Ares, for the war that ravaged his land, and Apollo, for the freedom he wished to have, and didn’t get a chance to see until he died. He was trained a soldier, tutored beneath Aristotle, and eventually made his way with his best friend to accept the burden of rulership that rested on his friend’s shoulders.

He held many titles in his mortal life – chiliarch, somatophylax, philalexandros. As a young man, he traveled with the one person who meant the most to him in his life: Alexander. He was his general, his closest confident – everything. War was brutal, the post traumatic stress that followed haunted Hephaestion every waking moment of his life. In death, however, he thought he’d meet the peace he knew he deserved. Instead, from the blood of his wife, a Persian princess, he was twisted into a creature of Persephone’s calling. It was then that he fled the world he knew, only returning upon the death of the one person who had meant everything to him in his short thirty-two years of human life. In his anger, he wiped out those he thought had carried out the deed – and he took his name, Alexander, and fled back into the ancient world that had thrust him out.

His new, immortal life was full of disappointment, at least, that’s what the vampire would say. He had his abilities, things that allowed him to terrorize those he came across. It wasn’t until the beginning of the new millennia that Xander found being content was getting him nothing. He’d come across werewolves, and other horrible, terrible creatures, as well as those who studied witchcraft. He’d learned what he could about his abilities, but never for something good. Time was all that helped calm the grief he’d felt for the classic world. Renewed with a different surge of vigor, he threw himself into the new century with a mind full of malevolent plans. He was able to steal, lie, cheat, and instigate murder as he made his way through feudal kingdoms. The crimes were hardly ever carried out by himself. No, he had humans to do the dirty work as he watched. His favorite game was displacing a ruler, watching a kingdom fall into ruin as there was no heir.

His rampage and ruin came to a halt in February of 1692 in the United States. His time with the Morgan hunters in Salem would never be forgotten, and the Salem trials were more than anything Xander could bear. Being shackled in iron is what he could remember; and the whispers of those around him had never ceased to give him nightmares. Escaping at the cost of other’s lives was the least of his problems, and fleeing back to Greece was what he considered best.

HIs immortality was both a blessing and a curse. At times, he almost wished he was gone from the world, something that would cure his issues with humanity. He lived most of his days invisible, trying to hide from anyone who could bother him. Being so old did not make him wise, no. It just made him more cautious than anything else. Instead of instigating, he retreated. Death would welcome him like an old friend, he knew that much, but it didn’t mean he wanted to end his life so willingly. Xander had never meant to find himself holed up in a town full of supernatural creatures. But there was so little for him in the rest of the world that he found leaving would be an even bigger mistake. Caught in a world that no longer has a place for someone like him, Xander is intrigued by the darkness that lurked in every corner of Corinth Bay. Whether it will be a blessing or a curse, he has yet to find out.

PERSONALITY

+ insightful, collected, determined - depressed, wistful, haughty

PLAYED BY LAUREN. PST. She/Her.

[jeannereames]

Hi! Just want to express my gratitude: I've learned a lot about Hephaistion from your research, and I really enjoy your portrayal of him in both your novels–he is like a living person to me.

Thank you! He’s been living in my head since about 1987. I was reading Peter Green’s biography Alexander of Macedon. When I got to his description of Hephaistion, which wasn’t terribly flattering, this little Hephaistion sat up in my head, and protested. “I wasn’t like that at all!” *laughing* So I began my own research, which turned into a dissertation, which turned into several articles, and now (finally) I’m settling down to write a biography. No, I don’t know yet when it will be out. Several years; academic books take a while. While some of my opinions about him (including his competence) haven’t changed, other ideas have. So it’ll be interesting to revisit all that research 20+ years later.

With the novels, I got a chance to go a little further in terms of constructing what I think he might have been like as a person, although I do always try to stress the dividing line between Hephaistion, the historical person, and Hephaistion, my character. But the character is certainly constructed out of my research, as well as a healthy helping of intuition. I’ve “known” him a long time now.

[odysseusnostos]

(YOU STARTED IT) try + Hephaestion Amyntoros ❤

SEND  TRY + A CHARACTER  YOU’D LIKE TO SEE ME ( ATTEMPT ) TO WRITE !

As a faint smirk cracked his serious countenance and a desire to laugh was building in his belly, Hephaistion lifted his gaze when felt a pair of eyes on him, only to meet the confounded look on the emissary’s face. He stared at the stranger sitting across Alexandros, though not really seeing him, but himself as if through the other man’s eyes, becoming overly aware of what he had done. The hand he’d placed on the king’s shoulder felt suddenly heavier, and his otherwise quick mind froze, but his cheeks burned as if he had just chugged an entire vessel of wine. It was anger over embarrassment, though he felt plenty of both. 

To read the king’s correspondence without his permission, and over his shoulder no less, wsa far from being a major offence. The inner circle knew Hephaistion had Alexandros’ trust, but like the tiny pebbles composed a larger mosaic, even the smallest gestured mattered, and this one could spread like a stain on the fabric that was the image they had been carefully putting together for years. It hurt considerably more when, and his was unbeknownst to even to part of that inner circle, Alexandros and Hephaistion had sacrificed, in a way, part of their private lives for the sake of perception. Of how a king was perceived. There was no glory that had not been bought with at least some pain. 

Before Hephaistion could take a step back, or say anything to excuse himself without making it worse, or even take his fucking hand off Alexandros, the king gave a laugh that startled the two men, though it managed to ease his embarrassment. His anger remained for a moment longer, and only dissolved when the king spoke quite lightly, ordering him, as if he had had such an answer prepared beforehand, simply to kiss his ring and seal his lips to secrecy. With a new smirk, Hephaistion only replied ‘yes, king,’ and obliged.