OUT OF CHARACTER
NAME/ALIAS: mae
AGE: 19
PRONOUNS: she/her
IN CHARACTER – BASICS
FIRST/LAST NAME: tammy vanderbilt
AGE: 24
PRONOUNS: he/him (trans man)
OCCUPATION (MUSE, ARTIST, ETC.): muse
FACE CLAIM: angelina michelle
3 POSITIVE TRAITS: vivacious, determined, clever
3 NEGATIVE TRAITS: non-committal, cynical, avaricious
IN CHARACTER – DETAILS (OPTIONAL)
people think of muses as gilded immortals, relics from a brighter, purer age of art. chosen ones, whose gifts to the world are of such transcendence that they go beyond the limitations of life. by that definition, tammy shouldn’t be a muse. he isn’t an artist, an opera singer – he was a nude model for a bit, but perennial air con and a gaggle of gawking uni students are a far cry from the silks and satins of ages gone by. he’s the son of alexander vanderbilt, the next in a long legacy of successful vanderbilt businessmen – but when Alexander told his wife to give him a son, he meant one like him. tall, intimidating, ex-boxer (oh, and cis, of course). after a childhood beyond most people’s dreams, tammy was kicked out the day he came out to his father, and had to work out how to survive as a lone 18-year-old in an unforgiving city. the artists’ model gig came first, but he quickly discovered there were more lucrative ways to pay the rent; being a camboy suited both his natural theatricality, and his desire to be adored perhaps that was his art. the art of pleasure, eventually progressing from just streaming to private videos, to meeting up with clients. always searching for the charmed lifestyle he left behind, tammy was always looking for bigger and better opportunities. he gained a reputation for tolerating, even (at least putting on a show of) enjoying, all and any twisted requests, as long as they came with a big enough payoff. for a while, it worked great; sure, he was anorexic and plagued by a particularly determined stalker, but the cash stacked up. and if the universe believed in poetry, he would’ve died in his lavish apartment, or at the hands of a sadistic client. it was a car-vs-pedestrian, a freak accident while on the way back from a club. the last thought flickering through his head as he bled out on the tarmac? Not yet. And it seemed the universe did believe in poetry; it might even have been listening that night, because it made him a muse. a classical beauty: who better to inspire the artists that are always seeking to emulate a better age? tammy sees his newfound immortality as a gift, but its conditions a curse. commitment to one artist would be closing off his options – what if that artist turned out to be a twat? what would he do then? his compromise is hiding that he’s a true muse, modelling for artists and keeping up his ‘other work’ on the side. though – perhaps the chance of being immortalised in another way, finally getting the worship he craves, would be enough to tempt him?
