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Charming has a number of lonely plots looking for love. Why not take a gander and see what hijinks your character can get up to? — Kayte ( Submit your own)
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"Angelica" Warrington for Myles Warrington.
I hold my peace, sir? no; No, I will speak as liberal as the north; Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I’ll speak.
He has touched my ankle and seen me with my hair down (not intentionally, of course!), so I'm pretty sure I already know what it feels like to be married.Helga Scamander in Helga's Boy Book
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Post 3+ times in three or more class threads during the course of a school year. Must all be done with the same character, be they a professor, student, or school portrait or ghost!

Jackie & Wilson
Every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside
Sit back and watch the world go by
Happy to lie back, watch it burn and rust
We tried to work, good God it wasn't for us

23rd March, 1890 — Emrys' House, Bristol

Emrys was not particularly looking forward to having company in his home for the foreseeable future, because he liked to feel as though he was always in control of what company he kept. He had more or less a series of personas that he put on depending on the people he was with, and he didn't want his worlds mixing. That being said, he couldn't very well claim that he didn't have the room, particularly when one compared his living situation to that of anyone else in Christobal's usual circle of cohorts. Emrys had an entire bedroom just to hold women's clothes that he'd found, liked, and bought with the intention to send them out as presents someday (or not, depending on his mood). This was in addition to the guest rooms typically kept available for guests he wasn't planning to sleep with — and the room set aside for guests he was hoping to sleep with.

He'd put Christobal in one of the normal guest rooms, even though it seemed unlikely he'd be using his special guest room while he was here. He valued his companions' privacy almost as much as his own, and he knew some of his recurring visitors wouldn't dare to come if they thought they might be observed during their stay. So until Christobal was back on his feet, he supposed he was just going to have to go sexless.

"This really is terribly inconvenient," he told Christobal as he showed him into his temporary room. Although he was really quite serious he kept his tone light and joking. "I don't know what I'm going to do without this room."

@Christobal Vainart
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   Christobal Vainart
Christobal had been hoping that it would be Emrys next from his friends that would offer him his hospitality. Vivienne's home was alright and so was that of some other prostitute friend of his, but they couldn't compare to Emrys' manor. It was a pity he wasn't a woman, so then he might have had a chance of seducing his friend and marrying into his pocket, as it happened in the scandalous, poorly written novels that Christobal sometimes painted covers for.

He could sense that Emrys wasn't terribly thrilled about him staying, but he was planning on playing stupid and prolonging his friends' hospitality for as long as he could. He didn't want to go to some whore's house anytime soon!

"You are such a good friend, Emrys!" Christobal commented, matching his friend's joking tone. "Maybe you will find me some wealthy client next!"

He was kind of hoping that would happen, actually. Couldn't Emrys find some filthy rich friend who loved art enough to buy that painting Christobal had sold to that New Zealander? He had done it in one time-space, he could do it in this one as well!
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   Ophelia Devine
Emrys would sooner hang himself from the balustrade of the main staircase than introduce Christobal to any of his wealthy friends. At least, he could not possibly consider introducing him to anyone as my friend, the artist or something of that vein; that would involve admitting that he knew the man in any personal capacity. Emrys didn't like admitting to anything in a personal capacity, and he certainly didn't want his different social circles mixing. He might have been able to handle introducing Christobal as a painter, as though he'd just encountered him professionally and could vouch for nothing except his work — only he couldn't possibly trust Christobal to play it cool on something like that. He'd almost certainly spill the beans, maybe even intentionally if he thought it was a way to leverage himself into wealthier company.

"None of the people I know are sophisticated enough to appreciate your work," he replied, which was a very diplomatic way of saying no chance in hell.

"But I'm certainly looking forward to you getting back on your feet," he added brightly, the subtext being and therefore getting out of my house.
Christobal was disappointed by his friend's answers. He was disappointed in general, that Emrys had never taken the initiative of hosting an art show with Christobal's works at his house. It was as if Emrys wanted to keep Christobal's talent only to himself. The artist appreciated that Emrys seemed to regard him so highly, but he also wished that Emrys would widen his audience, so then he could start to make real sales. Not commissions for perfects who jacked off to men in women's clothing!

"Ah, well I am sure being in such a good environment will help with my inspiration!" Christobal commented. His environment played a huge role to his inspiration. His parents' home in Irvingly, for example, killed his inspiration. One couldn't be creative when his view was some other poor family's tiny yard!

"Perhaps I could finally paint your portrait!" Emrys had never asked Christobal for that favour, but the artist suggested it as though his friend had been begging him to do so for years and it was only because of Christobal's busy schedule that it hadn't happened.
Emrys couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the suggestion. What was he supposed to do with a portrait of himself? He was the only person who lived here, and if he wanted to stare at himself all day, he had mirrors for that sort of thing. Besides, he wouldn't have even known where to start with conceptualizing a portrait — would he wear nice, respectable clothes like he did for family gatherings and society parties? Would he leave his earrings in and hold a glass of wine while he posed? There were too many versions of himself for any to readily suggest themselves as the subject of a painting — and he didn't need any of them immortalized on canvas.

"What would I do with a portrait?" he asked with a careless shrug. "Even I'm not quite that egotistical, Christobal — unless you think I have some fans lurking in the shadows who might buy it up in order to liven up their parlor?" he joked.
If Christobal was a really wealthy man, living in a manor in the countryside, he'd definitely get a huge portrait of himself. He'd probably get many different portraits of himself, in different clothes and sceneries, to grace every important room of his house.

But Emrys was different. He had had the rich person experience since birth, very few things could excite him regarding being a rich person. He was probably depressed because having that much money meant he'd gotten to experience all the joys of life. That was why he hung out with the likes of Christobal, likely.

"Well then, I could paint something more entertaining for you, then," Christobal said and raised his eyebrows suggestively. "How about a painting of a really respectable looking lady, perhaps a Rowenna Ravenclaw, who will strip down to all she wore when Missus Ravenclaw brought her into this world-" aka, nothing,"when you ask her to do so? Perhaps when you offer her a sickle, like a proper, business-minded harlot would?"
"I don't want to have to pay my portraits," Emrys replied with a shake of his head and a smile. The idea wasn't entirely unappealing otherwise, however. He did need a healthy selection of respectable artwork in his house, since only a few select rooms were set aside for his more open-minded friends. He wasn't sure he could explain having a portrait of Rowena Ravenclaw, though, when he had no connection to the house and could not have been described by anyone who knew him as much of an intellectual. Part of what he liked about Christobal's suggestion was the shock value of it, though — the irony of such a well-respected woman becoming an object of lust in the company of the right sort of audience. He didn't think he'd use it much personally (preferring, whenever he could get it, live specimens to paintings), but it did strike him as an interesting conversation piece, for a very particular crowd.

"Maybe Queen Victoria," he suggested, thinking of a suitable replacement. Some woman who would be easily recognizable by all of his guests, and would be likely to command a certain respect — but who would also not look out of place somewhere in his house. "Not now, obviously — when she was crowned, or something," he added. Not that he closely followed any royal politics, but he knew the Queen was rather ancient at the moment, and he didn't think any of his guests were likely to be much amused by geriatric stripping, regardless of how open-minded they might be.
Christobal would have preferred to paint Rowena Ravenclaw, as she was known to be a great beauty and he could paint her in a historic sort of setting. It would overall be a more dramatic sort of painting. If Emrys wanted Queen Victoria, though, he could work with that.

"Queen Vicky, yes," Christobal said. "And perhaps when you tell her to lay back and think of England, she could play with herself."

That would be something Christobal would enjoy painting, especially if he had a model for it.
"Oh, honestly, you're awful," Emrys chided, though he was laughing at Christobal's suggestion all the same. "If this is how you pitch all your art, it's not much of a surprise you're broke," he joked. Not that there wasn't a market for pornographic paintings — obviously there was, and Christobal already had that segment of the market well-tapped, from what he understood. There were limits to what most people wanted to see, however, and that suggestion crossed a line for Emrys. Tasteful nudes were one thing — questionably tasteful nudes could be allowed, in moderation — but he wasn't going to decorate his house with straight out pornography. What would happen if one of the myriad of children he was related to stumbled upon it? Or his future wife, whenever he got around to acquiring one?
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   Christobal Vainart
Christobal thought that Emrys would appreciate his pornographic genius. Why wouldn't he want a painting like this? It would fulfill his needs for arousal at times of loneliness, when he couldn't find a living person to join him in pleasure.

"Oh, alright," Christobal said, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "Only stripping, then. But we could still find a model who will play with herself for us."

And then they could all play together.
"For you, you mean," Emrys said, with another roll of his eyes. He could appreciate art, of course, but he had no need to be present while it was being created. He wasn't a painter and had no particular interest in what actually went in to the pieces he purchased. Besides, he didn't need to needlessly associated himself with a pornographic model. Not that he was judgemental about that sort of thing, of course — he did consider Esther a friend, after all — but it was best to keep ones' social circle tight whenever possible. And besides, if he wanted to pay a woman to perform for him, he could very well afford to have one to himself.

"If you need anything, you can call the housekeeper," he said, seguing into the goodbye portion of this conversation. "But try not to need anything, will you?"
Christobal thought that Emrys would have appreciated his ideas more. He knew that his friend liked the female flesh as much as he did. They had had conversations about sex in the past, though they hadn't been this sober.

"Of course! You won't even notice my presence," he promised. Christobal wasn't planning on breaking that promise, but he also wasn't the quietest or humblest person.

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