the_cupbearer: (Default)
2017-09-03 10:33 pm
Entry tags:

PSL: Pan

The beach outside his Los Angeles home was Ganymede's place to find calm; not on sunny, still days, or even the humid nights when the stars popped out of the clouds to give shifting light.

This minute it was raining, stormy and violent outside with rolling thunder deafening even the noise of the city as the sun sank lower towards the horizon. Ganymede was outside in it, already soaked to the skin; barefoot and in light linen trousers split along the front he was dancing along the shore, buffeted about by the wind and laughing at the flashes of lightning. He was a little drunk, but not enough to make him forget how dangerous this situation was, and he reveled in the knowledge as he danced.

The near-empty bottle of wine was heavy in his hand as he pitched it into the surf, turning in the sand and letting the crazed tilt of the world drag him to his knees, plastering his hair to his neck and shoulders.
the_cupbearer: (plaintive)
2017-08-29 11:46 pm
Entry tags:

what-if: revolution (the party)

Ganymede had long been aware of his beauty, and the ease with which very little manipulation of that could and did affect men. Especially men who ought to know better. So it was not surprising at all to him that when the whispered word went out for 'flowers' who might be available for a particular kind of party...well, Ganymede had always been in some way near those circles.

The night of the engagement came, and he made sure he was clean-shaven and presentable, though he did not deign to dress as a woman to pass the entry of the house--considering he knew the address, and the house's occupant as well. He spent some time with the few cosmetics he kept, using mica powder to make his skin shimmer and kohl to emphasize his eyes. In no time at all, it seemed, he was on his way to the gathering, shown to the servant's entrance (not on the main street) where he could properly disrobe. He probably wouldn't, so far as he'd been apprised, actually be sexually participating in the activities of the party: he would be mostly something for the men present to look at, or touch, as they touched themselves and each other. A masturbation party then, though to Ganymede's recollection those sorts could turn into an orgy very quickly and with little provocation.

Either way it would be worth it to see the looks on the men's faces.
the_cupbearer: (weight of royalty)
2017-08-23 12:47 am
Entry tags:

Model AU part 1

Ganymede was lying strewn across a chair, extraordinarily low-slung jeans molded to his hips and the loose-weave sweater he wore held up by one hand, eyes locked onto the camera being pointed at him. Modelling wasn't something he found particularly difficult work--it was easy if you knew how to manipulate your body's angles, and he did--and it paid fairly well.

He had a multitude of tiny gold-thread braids in his hair, and dozens of gold rings on his fingers, and one thick chain draped across his neck as he stretched and looked through the lens: he was supposed to be mimicking arousal, but he couldn't help that every time he worked with John Andre he ended up feeling it too. Ganymede held it back long enough to finish the latest roll of film, and was busily taking off the jewelry before he could take a break and stretch out for a few minutes.

Unfortunately removing the heavy chain necklace had also wiped off some of the cosmetic he'd used that morning to conceal a dark, blooming bruise around his neck. It wasn't a huge secret that Ganymede was both sexually active and something of a masochist, though he argued that modelling itself would qualify you for that; it just wasn't often he showed up to work bearing the marks of it.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2017-08-02 08:31 pm
Entry tags:

Medietas App

Player Information
Name: Sage
Age: I'm 29, so we're good.
Contact: for email, repositorian on plurk, sage#2486 on discord
Characters already in Medietas: Noriko Ashida.
Reserve Link:

Character Basics
Character name: Ganymede
Character Journal: the_cupbearer
Canon: He's basically greek mythology, but I've done a lot of building up around that.
Age: 3346, looks...ehhh, 19 or 20.

Original Character Information
Appearance: Ganymede is, in a word, beautiful. Breathtakingly so. Enough so to tempt the very king of gods himself into stealing him away, so it qualifies as more than just 'yeah, he's hot'. He's mostly unmarked in the permanent way, though he does have a set of impressive scars up his right arm from his wrist to the bottom of his bicep from Zeus' talons snatching him off a mountain. In every other way, he looks like a human young man from somewhere nebulously mediterranean.
Setting: Ganymede comes from the world of greek myth, where monsters and supernatural creatures were believed to be real alongside humans. I've stretched this a bit to make Ganymede's world more akin to the real world we live in now. Gods are very real there, and they make themselves known from time to time. Otherwise, it's a dead standard earth-human world, as it would be to anyone who came in from a modern canon setting. He will most likely make mention of creatures like satyrs and centaurs and things of that nature, but he also refers to normal people in much the same tones, so it can be quite difficult to tell if he's being serious about referencing mythological creatures or not.
History Born a Trojan prince and the son of King Tros, brother to Ilus and the unfortunately-named Assaracus, Ganymede was abducted when he was nineteen for his beauty from the slopes of Mount Ida by Zeus, who had disguised himself--for a given definition of disguise--as a giant eagle. Being carried off to Olympus, he was promptly made both the god's (at the time very singular) lover and the gods' (very plural) cupbearer. In exchange, he gained both immortality and eternal youth - and his home city of Troy was torn apart by the Greeks, backed by Hera, the queen of the gods Zeus' wife, whom his new-found position had angered. Go figure.
The myth goes that to protect his beloved Zeus put Ganymede in the stars as the constellation Aquarius, the waterbearer, but this is where myth diverges from the truth. Ganymede has lived well-hidden on earth for centuries, moving from place to place when either the mood strikes or when his neighbors figure out he never ages: he's stuck forever looking exactly as old as he did when Zeus first took him from earth, and he never appears any less handsome either. Granted, nineteen then was considered much later in life than it is now, relatively speaking, but Ganymede will never look old, nor even middle-aged. Currently, he makes good money in modeling for photography (and sometimes pornography), portraiture and art classes, and running a winery and bar. He's had a number of professions through the ages from which he's picked up some strange skills, in various stages of having been forgotten.
Needless to say, some stuff has happened since those first days on earth when he still spoke and carried himself like a royal that others should bow to. He's a tad more subtle than he was when he first returned to the world of mortals: Ganymede learned early on that declaring yourself the son of a long-dead king from a long-forgotten place tended to end you up labeled as crazy. And though he's managed a good three millennia and change in existence, relatively few of his many indiscretions have yet to catch up with him; by the same reasoning he's no stranger to self-destructive behavior, though it rarely sticks with him long. His dress and hair vary widely from the semi-modern to the ancient Greek to everything in between, though lately it's more modern than not. He's skilled at a half-million things he's taken the time to learn, from surprisingly brutal swordplay to brewing and distilling alcohol, and even acting in pornography-- because why not make money with what you've got? However, aside from his immortality, his only non-human power of note is his extreme beauty; he's one of the most attractive individuals (if not the most) to have ever been born, beautiful enough to win over the king of the gods without trying, even without knowing. Unless he makes an attempt to disguise his identity this will be immediately evident. While I am aware that beauty is subjective and not all characters are attracted to young men, Ganymede's beauty is enough to make ninety-eight percent of people stop and do at least a double-take at his appearance.
He's also traveled extensively, being that he's only easily able to pass as human for a short while, maybe a decade or two, before people begin to catch on that he isn't aging like he should and everyone else is. He's been around the world several times: lived in most of the major cities that exist currently, and in a few before they became major hubs of metropolitan civilization. He can learn languages easily, learn and copy mannerisms as well, to be able to blend in wherever he goes. Ganymede has also witnessed human history in all its messy, bloody splendor firsthand several times: he's fought in wars the world over, and delighted in watching the times change, though sometimes he's reminded of his lack of changing with them.

I am choosing to bring him into medietas without the benefit of prior game canon, simply because he's been in so many of them over the years with such complicated relationships that it would be impossible to condense for the sake of easy or clear reading.

On his age: I came by Ganymede's ballpark age by using the Tawagalawa Letter written around 1280 BC; one of the named kings mentioned in it is Alaksandu, whom many historians believe this to be the Paris of Homer's Iliad (whose birth name was Alexandros). This puts, at least for my purposes, the height of the Trojan War happening around this point in time. Since according to the myth, the Trojan War had to happen after Ganymede's abduction from the earthly realm, he would have had to be taken some time before 1280 BC. Since I doubt Hera's jealousy over having a mortal boy replace both her daughter as cupbearer and herself in her husband's bed would have sprouted with such intensity overnight, I set the rough date of Ganymede's abduction at 30 earth years prior to that. So Ganymede would be born around the year 1329 BC, making him 3346 in 2017. He doesn't really talk about or celebrate a birthday anyway, mostly because he doesn't know what actual day it is anymore and wouldn't have kept up with it even if he had remembered through all the calendar changes, so he'll usually refer to a year, starting from winter to keep it in line with the Gregorian calendar.

Personality: Ganymede is an outwardly calm sort, used to being messed with in nearly every possible way by a god: someone very concretely there, but also almost entirely unreachable to his people. He can seem cold, aloof, and out of touch at first, but one he warms up and contrary to his years he's actually quite personable. Nothing at all like the mortal generational gap leads people to believe about someone purported to be more than three thousand years old. He's influenced by many of the people he's met in his life: they may not have been extraordinary to everyone else, but their normalcy is magnetic to Ganymede. He's also a realist, and so stories of romance and happy endings don't enchant him: he's had that, or what people think of as that, and it didn't end well. He will think quickly of the wort possible outcome of things, though he doesn't always voice it, and tries to hope for better.
He's motivated mostly by entropy, as sad as that is to say, but when you're his age some things you do simply because the alternative is so alien as to be unfathomable. Ganymede has courted death before: as said above, he's no stranger to destructive habits. He's a masochist in the broadest sense of the word, because pain has never stopped feeling sharp like some pleasures did long ago. The thing that possibly most encapsulates what makes Ganymede tick is the realization for him that the gift he was given--unchanging immortality--is its own price, and one that he will never stop paying. Everything has a price, and no reward comes without paying it.

Zeus is probably the person most intimately involved with having shaped Ganymede's personality: it's hard for him to un-entangle himself from the god even two thousand years after he was released from service. Zeus was capricious, powerful, and single-mindedly driven to most goals, and Ganymede learned very early, and very well, that the best way to stay alive was to not anger someone so very easily able to cause harm. He tends to go into placate mode as a first resort, and only fighting as a last one, though once he should made that decision he doesn't easily stray from it, and can be very reticent to forgive: able to claim his birthright to a throne or not he is a proud man. From first being taken by the god to being kept as a slave and separated from his humanity, his family, and his home, to the slow-dawning and painful realization that he will never be free of some kind of affection for the king of gods, Ganymede remains forever changed by his association with Zeus.

Powers/Abilities/Talents: Ganymede is extraordinarily beautiful, and is quite deadly with a sword. He's practiced in most traditional forms of killing people, though he isn't proficient in any particular martial art. He prefers to talk an attacker down if possible, then resort to violence.

What 4 items would you like your character to have with them on the island during their stay? His sword (which is short at only 26 or so inches total), a feather from a golden eagle (given to him by Zeus), and his dog, a saluki female.

Samples - Can be linked
First Person: (Designed to be read as a diary or journal entry:)
It is May of 1786. We are in France; I will have a child soon. Charlotte--its mother--complains of very little pain though she laughs when I ask to feel the baby kick, as if it is not mine, she says. It is not, we both know; she knows I have no interest in women nor she in men, but we find this arrangement and the lie that goes with it far more preferable to the cruelty the world would show us both if we were honest. I cannot help but to ask about the child; the thought remains steadfast that though I am to act as this child’s father, should Charlotte decide against staying with me I would have no way to make her return. I care for her as much as I do the child she carries, but it is not as I would, I imagine, care for a wife; I feel no desire around her, nothing to make my pulse run high as I do when I look at the men who pass by my house with windblown hair and dust from the road on their boots. But still she is precious to me for her confidence, for the ease with which she accepts who and what I am, the simple acceptance she exudes as other women would a rich perfumed oil.
She minds my preference very little, I think. I have known her to sneak away when she thinks I am not paying her any attention to talk with other women, overly affectionately at the very least. We know secrets of each other, though neither of us has spoken them aloud. There is little need to. In seven months we have not spoken of finding a companion that better suits us, either of us, though we live in the same house and know we will not marry. Perhaps it is that we can pass for siblings to those who do not look so closely between us and do not know our secrets; we are both dark-haired and dark-eyed, though hers are blue and mine too dark to tell save in the brightest sunlight that exposes them as a tawny brown. Her skin is only a little lighter than mine, her cheekbones not so slanted, her nose tilted up at the tip.
Charlotte tells me she hates that feature of hers--she tells me it reminds her of a piglet’s nose. I tell her it is the perfect place to rest my lips when we sleep together, and when I touch it she smiles, and says nothing more for a few days. It is a comfortable pattern. We do indeed sleep in the same bed; she lays close to me so that her belly touches mine and slips her knee between my thighs, and it is not remotely the same as having a man resting behind me with a solid weight at my back but it allows me to sleep. I still have the nightmares if I lay alone. I do not like to think on what I will do if she leaves, or when she dies. She is still too young to consider it rightly but knowing how many things can go amiss when she is delivered...I do not like to consider that. And even barring her safe delivery of a child, she is mortal. She will die. I know this, as I have known it in every mortal face I look upon. It is a heavy thought to carry around.
We have decided on the baby’s name to be Ambra if a girl, and Henri if a boy. It took many late nights and very early mornings to decide, but what else was there to do before the sun rose when Charlotte was retching at the mere idea of eating? There are only so many songs I can play to her to calm her mind and settle her nerves, and my flute is old; the cord binding the halves had worn perilously thin in many places before I could replace it again. So we talked, of names and what it will look like and what we will do when it comes, as if we were not having the conversation with it making its presence known with many kicks of tiny legs. She took my hands and pressed them to her belly, splaying my fingers around the curve of her skin as if to cradle the little life that resides in her, and I could feel the rhythm against my palm like a heartbeat. It never seems less miraculous when she does that.
I must go; there is a commotion outside and Charlotte is calling my name. More later.

Third Person: From one of his most recent posts in the other game he's in.

Finally, out of the 4 words, pick one: Chimes, lake, gravel, or sun? Chimes.
the_cupbearer: (smoke)
2017-07-12 01:11 am
Entry tags:

what-if: convince me of this revolution

It was late evening, in one of the many taverns that dotted the city of New York: Ganymede sat alone with a meal and a pipe, listening vaguely to the conversations around him, most of which were predictably centered on the ongoing war. He didn't have much faith that the colonists would truly win, would honestly separate from Britain and not collapse to anarchy soon thereafter, but being the sort who valued not being tarred-and-feathered, he kept that opinion to himself.

He was writing, actually, a long letter to a friend back on the continent whom he hadn't seen in years. He hoped Johannes was still alive at this point to even receive it.

And Ganymede might have stayed peacefully alone, if he hadn't been at the table with the only empty seat in the place.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2017-07-04 12:42 am
Entry tags:


A softer World: Truth and Beauty are wonderful words, but in the end I am alone with the things I have done.
Howdy. I'm Sage (<user name=repositorian>, <user name=repositorian, site=plurk>), and I'm in EST, or GMT -4, an I work full time, but if you need to get in contact with me, you can leave me a message at this post, or with either of the above sources, and I'll get back to you ASAP.

This post is also an HMD, or How's My Driving, post. If you have questions, comments, or concerns about how I play Ganymede, feel free to leave them here!

All comments are screened.
the_cupbearer: (modern life)
2016-12-19 10:57 pm
Entry tags:

oom: for Sinric

Ganymede opens the door for Sinric, letting him in to the quiet contained sanctuary of his room, footsteps falling silent on the stone floor.

"You are always welcome here, Sinric. Alone or with me."
the_cupbearer: (modern life)
2016-11-04 11:28 pm
Entry tags:

Man from UNCLE psl

Ganymede, for the last several years masquerading as Alan Kingsley, stretched in the studio, part classroom and part dojo floor, that was his place at the U.N.C.L.E headquarters; he was employed there teaching hand-to-hand combat, and though he had a rather unusual way of doing things his students tended to be successful once past his class.

It was a job, and one he liked, though he did appreciate days off from the minor bruising and aches generally caused by men who didn't know what they were doing and tried to throw him. It never worked out all that well for them. He'd been asked to come in for an agent to train with him, not an unusual request, and so there he was, in comfortable loose pants with his hair braided back, stretching and pulling out the tension in his limbs. For a moment his pose was impressive; Ganymede was balanced on one bare foot, the other pulled up behind him and grasped by both hands, extended over his head and continuing the circle of his spine. Kuryakin was due at any moment, and he preferred to get to business. He'd never been much for the passing comments of nicety as far as Ganymede was aware, though he'd never spoken to the man himself.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2016-10-04 09:46 pm
Entry tags:

breakfast with gyda - time variable

Early morning in his house was generally quiet and Ganymede loved those moments; he was standing at the kitchen window with his shirt undone and a mug of coffee in hand. Gyda was most likely asleep, and he needed something bitter to wash the taste of overwhelming sugar out of his mouth. To keep himself quiet he and his partner had used a ball gag, unfortunately made out of sugar. Ari--said partner--found a perverse enjoyment in the fact that it made him swallow every five seconds.

But still, it had been a good night. Ganymede was just watching the blue light of predawn change tint and shade to pink, and orange, soon to be white-red. Gyda would be getting ready for school and theoretically Ari would come down at some point for food, or to leave for work.
the_cupbearer: (starfall)
2016-09-12 05:46 pm
Entry tags:

oom: hannibal

Ganymede leads Hannibal up to a familiar door, opening it to his room where the water still flows around the perimeter of the flagstones, kneeling to brush his fingers over the pygmy lotus blossoms in the little pond.

"And now that we're here?" he asks, standing and flicking his hair back.
the_cupbearer: (weight of royalty)
2016-05-30 11:15 am
Entry tags:

(no subject)

Ganymede was breathtakingly, stunningly beautiful. It was seldom put any other way, and that was why he kept the windows to the carriage dark, gauzed by thin blue-black cloth to obscure the view inside. He was moving into another house, the same routine he'd kept for years and years; today was in many ways no different than the neverending procession of months and decades forward and behind.

He stepped out of the well-oiled door, the hinges making no noise in the atrociously early morning, and looked down the road as he set foot on the street, already moving towards the house's entry. His skin was turned into pale burnished gold by the early sun, his long hair neatly queued and tied back into an elaborate braid wound with silver. He stopped at the base of the short stairs up to the door, momentarily enchanted by the look of the city in the quiet just-pre-dawn, before many people came calling to sell their wares, after many of the street whores had given up selling their bodies. He knew both professions well.

This would be an interesting move.
the_cupbearer: (listening peaceably)
2016-02-17 11:52 pm
Entry tags:

OOM for [personal profile] i_am_your_host

Ganymede's room is lovely, simply put; it looks very much like a palace, small and contained within the mysteriously-sized walls. The floor is cool flagstone, the walls mirroring the earthy colors, but the furniture and linens and pillows are all bright jeweltones, tossed haphazardly around the space. There are vases of palms in the corners and a quietly musical tiny river flowing around the edges of the room.

"This is it," he says, stepping aside to let Emcee in, sitting on the corner of the bed. "It's...calm," he sighs. "When I need it. Make yourself comfortable, please."
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2015-08-02 10:11 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] thewidewideworld

Ganymede's room is not overly large; his bed is, and it's not a bed designed solely for sleep. Its pillows are soft and jeweltoned, wet-looking to the touch, and plentiful against the expanse of mattress. There's a small chest at the foot of the bed, discreetly locked, and a few lengths of cotton cloth looped around the posts ostensibly for tying limbs to it. On the opposing wall there's a dark television screen, turned off but with a small console below it for discs.

"You can sit if you like," he says. "I just need to get something."
the_cupbearer: (princely)
2015-07-18 05:01 pm
Entry tags:


The Peerless Scarred are, at their hearts, the cruelest and coldest of their Color. They are the Iron Golds, the highest-born and highest-privileged of the human race, and their role is to rule every other Color with merciless efficacy.

In a world where everyone, form the highest king to the lowest street-sweeper and beggar, is coded according to their Color, from Obsidian to Gold. Obsidians, Reds, Browns, and Pinks are lowColors, the bottom of the caste system; Obsidians are a monstrous race bred only for war, and so Reds are the lowest level one can be born into. They are unskilled workers with short lifespans, suited for brutal environments; Browns are servants in homes and social institutions; Pinks, while beautiful, are trained for physical pleasure. They are chemically castrated and have high suicide rates due to their Cupid's Kiss, the colorMark which gives them constant pain. Violet, Yellow, Blue, Green, Gray, and Orange are the midColors, and only the metallics are the highColors, made up of Silver, Copper, White, and Gold. Golds alone are the rulers, and of the forty million of them there are less than two hundred thousand Peerless Scarred.

The 'world' featured here is actually Mars, which has been terraformed to support life and is thus much like Earth save for the exact geography, and the years are counted entirely differently. Ganymede will be considered powerful, but offColor for his Greek name instead of Roman; however he will carry what looks like a deep blue sash wrapped around his hips. This is in actuality his Razor, a weapon of which use is restricted ENTIRELY to Golds. With a flick of his hand it will turn rigid and sharp enough to cut through anything, even an energy-power pulseShield; in fact it is the only thing that will cut them. Ganymede has two scars; one is the familiar curving set around his right forearm, faded to thin shining lines, and the other is a barely-darker curve around the outside of one eye, resting on the crest of his cheekbone. He will have sigils embedded into the backs of his hands of circles with stylized wings curving up and between the bones of his wrists, and these are not malleable or removable. They are grafted onto his bones, which are themselves stronger, denser than any earth-standard human's, as are his muscles as well as faster reflexes.

He is entirely gold-colored, from a burnished-ivory-tinted color for skin to a rich metallic for his hair and eyes, and he is an ass. Haughty, powerful, intelligent, and arrogant for all of it, he will likely make few friends.
the_cupbearer: (businessman)
2015-07-09 05:57 pm
Entry tags:

oom: for [personal profile] cook_the_rude

Ganymede is already in his room, writing out an itinerary in the leatherbound journal he had earlier, the atlas spread out on the table. His room is cool, brightly colored but with flagstoned flooring and a tiny canal of water running around the perimeter of the two rooms, pooling in a quarter-round container with lilies blooming in it.

The bed is made neatly, with four scarves tied to the posts and the necktie on the mattress.
the_cupbearer: (Default)
2015-05-17 05:43 pm
Entry tags:

for [personal profile] athelstanthescribe and [personal profile] bigarmy_strangepants

The room he keeps in Milliways is simple, but clean-lined with dark wood floors and jeweltoned pillows and rugs on it; it's a large space, a bed big enough to comfortably fit a few people for some...athletic activities with a smaller arched doorway leading to a bathroom. The corner piled with tufted pillows is where Ameera goes to without pause once Ganymede has scratched her ears, shortly followed by the rambunctious puppies.

"If you'd like to, the bathroom is through that door. There are towels there, and I'll find you clothes while Athelstan teaches you how to work the fixtures. I assume you don't need help undoing your braid, or do you?"
the_cupbearer: (hallway shirtless)
2014-10-14 12:44 pm
Entry tags:

oom: morocco for [personal profile] never_shall_yield

It's not very different, he thinks, each time Ganymede lets the Frenchman wander around his house; Javert will make some comment about how much space he likes to have, he will reply, things will be discussed. He honestly expects this to be no different, though they are here, ostensibly, for a purpose that isn't talking. Ganymede still has his doubts over whether or not that will actually happen, but he's game for most things. He doesn't ordinarily do virgins, so Javert is something of an exception, but he's hardly going to tell the man that.

He enters the house from Milliways through a door in the hallway, just down from his bedroom; the computer is still on, he can hear its fan whirring away as he makes his way to toward it, footsteps quiet on the wood floors. "If you wish to go put your things in the guest room, you may," he says. "I'll be in here."
the_cupbearer: (timeless)
2014-08-10 04:16 am
Entry tags:

OOM: for [personal profile] onceaviking

Ganymede's room is comfortable, quiet. The flagstoned floors are cool underfoot and the furnishings are jewel-toned, rich colors and fabrics and always the sound of running water, courtesy of the tiny canal that cuts along the route of the wall, following the angles that separate the sitting area and the bedroom, easily stepped over. The bed is unmade, sheets exposed under the carelessly-tossed pillows whose fabrics make them look wet to touch.

It's a caricature of his bedroom from ages and ages ago, but at times it is comforting. He leads Eric inside, footsteps quiet as Ganymede himself is.