#churchwarden

[being-the-bad-guy]

New pipe + new tobacco first try.

Ps. actually smells and tastes really good, it reminds me of marzipan bread.

[lifecyclesofmayflies]

Finished up mama's pipe! Again, not that she'll ever use it, but she is just now finding her love for LOTR and the Hobbit! So, I thought I'd make her something.

[straightedgestoner420]

YOU SHALL PUFF PUFF PASS!

[nevertrulyset]

Assuming both of these are still available by November 8, 2023...

[kultofathena]

MacQueen Smoking Pipes

The Mage Pipe in Briar Wood – Brown The Halfling in Cherry Wood The Barrel Rider – Birch The Traveler Pipe – Cherry

[blujayonthewing]

Aubree just bought a pipe of smoke monsters, because she's been wanting a new pipe anyway and Justin said the town we were in would probably have common magic items if we wanted anything in particular so I asked for them to have one of those please, but now I can't decide whether, design-wise, it should look like something with Aubree Vibes that she would usually be inclined to pick out and use or whether it should look, you know, like a novelty magic item crafted by an elf

[spookiifi]

These characters belong to Parkinart both on tiktok and Instagram. I recommend checking out their work if you're into analog horror in general <3

My symmetry sucks and I need to practice more often ugh

[comically-large-cowboy-hat]

ATTENTION!

FEUDALISM RESTARTING IN 10 SECONDS. CLASSES WILL BE RANDOMLY ASSIGNED

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Yandere! Sugar daddy x "pure"! Reader

EEEEEEEEE Time to write my baby, the fruit of my dark rofan loins (jk) Basically, this yandere is my first yandere OC and when I gave life (lol) to him in Char/ai yesterday, I just knew he had to be next.

Also, I contemplated what title to give him since he's also a mafia boss, but I decided to go with Sugar daddy since it's the most integral part of his story.

Also, "pure" just means that you dress light, really. But in Rowan's eyes, you were like an angel, a pure being that he needs to taint (oops spoiler)

Yandere! Sugar daddy name: Rowan Silas (Yes, he even has a last name)

notes: Rowan is not old, OLD. He's not a Dilf/Gilf level sugar daddy. In his lore with my other OC (his love interest), he's older by five years. Also, reader has a womb, due to mentions of pregnancy (why did I do this pregnancy shit twice? Dunno really.)

TW: noncon pregnancy, trackers, nsfw stuff

ALSO, REQUESTS ARE OPEN <3 (I don't even know if people will request but LOL just in case.)

The man only knew pain and crime all his life.

He never experienced anything good, apart from gunning down his enemies alive if that even means the same as what people deem as "good".

His life of crime was because of his adoptive father, who picked him up from the slums to become one of his personnel.

He was only seven by then. But his hands stained with blood as he killed the other kid who drowned his precious pet kitten in the lake. That's where his father knew that Rowan is not normal.

I mean, who would sport a smile while choking his fellow kid alive?

All Rowan said was "He deserved it though."

"He took what's precious from me."

That was enough to make his father set him straight to become the heir of the mafia family.

He grew up battered and bruised yet the vices he only knew is his smoking from his precious churchwarden pipe, and violence.

He told his father that it was enough for him.

Yet his body raged on, wanting more and more as greed consumed him for more.

Yes, he's a greedy man who wants more.

After all, he had nothing, then had one precious thing, then lost that thing. And then, when he eliminated the person who stole his precious thing, he got everything.

Did that make sense? To Rowan, it didn't.

He already got everything, but why does he want more?

So with a clean shot to the head, he killed his father and immediately inherited the family.

Now, he can spend the money and the resources as much as he wants. So he did. He went to casinos, brothels, luxury hotels and cruises. Everything he thinks that he needs.

But he still wants more. He still needs more.

And by god, he did get more.

He bumped into you one day, with you in your soft outfit of creams and pastels. Your pure, clean eyes made his heart skip a beat as you said sorry to him.

His greed triggered.

He wanted you so bad.

When he learned you needed a job when he saw your folder filled with resumes, he felt like he won the lottery.

"How about becoming my sugar baby? Don't worry, I won't ask anything. Much."

And as your cute figure pondered what to do, he smirked. You, in the middle of his dim office, in light clothing and an innocent face, was such a contrast in the dark office filled with his smoke from his beloved churchwarden pipe. You stuck out like a sore thumb, and he liked it.

He loved it.

And as your lips dropped the answer he wanted to hear, he shivered and gave you a lopsided smile.

"Good. Now, what do you want, love?"

Rowan sat down on his office chair, he cracked his neck and sighed.

He was bone tired. He just finished a cartel mission that he himself as the boss had to interfere. It was annoying because it was due to his incompetent new recruits.

At least they're sleeping with the "fishies", as what you call the finned sea creatures.

He grabbed something from his pocket and brought it up to his face. It was an intricate jeweled choker with a lot of rose gold arcs, jewels that match your eyes, and a diamond encrusted opal centerpiece.

He imagined you wearing it. Wrapping the choker on your neck himself, seeing your eyes flash in wonder and amazement. He imagined you also getting shy and saying that it was too expensive, and him saying that it was okay, and he wanted to give you this entirely by his own volition. And he got excited.

...In one way or another.

He chuckled and shook his head, swinging on his swivel chair as he dialed your number.

After two rings, you picked up.

"Love, come here. I got a gift for you."

You whined, getting shy again. He chuckled.

"You know what I say, I don't want to hear you say no. So come here now."

So you did.

Once you got there, he smiled and kissed your lips softly, bringing you close to him by your waist and lifting you up easily with his tatted arms.

"Come, I'll give you the present myself."

You got curious naturally.

He settled you in front of the floor length mirror which also saw... Much more intimate and sensual things you both did other than this gift giving thing he's doing.

Rowan slowly grabbed your hair and raised it, making you shiver with goosebumps from the action. He smirked, seeing you so flustered from the simple act of him grabbing your hair.

Well, that, and he also liked to grab your hair a lot while fucking you senselessly. There's that too.

You closed your eyes when he told you too, and you felt the familiar cold sensation of jewelry resting on your neck. But this time, it hugged it, making you open your eyes. It was the beautiful choker he was admiring earlier.

"Do you love it?" Rowan asked, looking at you through the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder. You nodded enthusiastically and said yes. He smirked.

This was the first time you didn't say to take the gift back with such a flustered apprehensive look. You're starting to get greedy.

He loved that. A lot.

"Now, how about you kiss me in return, hmm?" You rolled your eyes and gently kissed him. You know this day is not just going to end in a kiss.

But you didn't mind.

And he knows that.

You went home that day with Rowan driving you. He gave you more gifts that you shyly accepted once more, making Rowan shiver in glee. Again, you didn't reject them at all.

You're slowly getting tainted by his greediness.

And hopefully, you will be greedy enough to bring up your relationship to him, and tell him that you wanted more to this.

That you wanted his love.

Oh, he trembles at the thought.

It's not a question of if, but when, after all.

But now, he's just slowly moving forward with your relationship. Slow and steady wins the race, after all. Despite him living such a fast paced life, he knows he's patient enough to wait for you.

But if you backtracked and got out of his tight grasp...

Let's just say that the tracker he planted on your laptop, your phone, and now your precious choker will help him find you if you ran away.

You were the light to his dark, dreary life.

He'll be crazy enough to let you go.

And he's already crazy about you.

That's why he's making you addicted to him also. Showering you with gifts and love. Praising your body, worshipping it, pleasing it until you reach the heavens like the angel you are.

And if you still didn't want him... Let's just say the condoms with holes in them that he himself poked will do the trick.

It was a dirty tactic. But who cares? He's a mafia boss for god's sake. Dirty tactics aren't new to him.

And if you still somehow didn't end up pregnant and got to run away, he'll use his influence to find you.

You got no escape.

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

You were his love. His greed.

With a drag of his churchwarden pipe, he drove off to plan your wedding.

You were going to be his after all.

No matter what.

I don't know if I did my baby Rowan justice i'm going crazY FUCK.

Can you guys tell I have favoritism? Because I do LOL

[mare-crisiums-manual-controls]

I haul the long bundle wrapped in canvas onto my shoulder, my leather satchel slipping down the other, and head out the door. Down the rough cobblestone street I carefully dodge passers-by, dive out the way of the occasional horse and carriage clattering down the street, and studiously avoid the stare of a small group of city watchmen smoking their long churchwarden pipes around a disused well, pulling my hat down low to hide my eyes in shadow.

After weaving through the chaotic din of the Brickgate Market, eventually the town gives way to individual houses with thatched roofs, then to large rolling fields and pastures, and finally to the edge of the forest. I breathe a sigh of relief, happy at last to be surrounded by the dark, primeval forest, as I head deeper in amongst the trees, trying to retrace my steps. After a few wrong turns causing me to backtrack, and the occasional growl when the hem of my long lightweight coat snags on a thicket of thorny branches, I find the entrance to the cave I'd been to a week or so before. I readjust the heavy parcel on my shoulder and venture in, coughing a little self-consciously and calling out into the darkness.

"Hello?"

The greeting travels through the dark, and quickly finds its recipient. A deep rumbling, and a scraping sound similar to fallings beads fill your ears as a shape emerges from the dark. A great grey head emerges from the dark, eyes as bright as flame. The dragon opens its mouth.

"Hello! It's good to see you again friend. I hope your journey was not too difficult, I know these woods often confuse." The dragon grins as it looks you over, its gaze landing on the shouldered mass. It tilts its head in though, before its eyes light up in silent query.

[being-the-bad-guy]

Got myself my first tobacco pipe (pretty old but reconditioned) and I obviously had to make the perfect satchel for easily carry it around.

I also sew a matching burgundy satchel for my best friend for when I'm going to visit him in Scotland (hope to see him soon after summer break). Just ordinary sentimental dudes.

[mandareeboo]

Weird take but smoking is super important in writing. It's a common habit a lot of people share, but it's also got a lot of thematic stuff added to it that can help flesh out a character.

Focuses on your character's hands. You can say a lot about someone from their hands. Rugged, scarred fingers from a lifetime of work. Thin, delicate wrists and well-done nails. Swollen and bloody from a bad fight.

Smoking can also imply a certain economic background. Historically, hardworking laborers smoked cigarettes. A rich man may invest in cigars. The often-unmentioned cigarillo can imply that they have a certain taste preference.

Changes the environment of a room entirely. Readers feel very differently about a "normal" room compared to one choked with smoke from the people within.

Different pipes also mean a lot imo. Not in real life, but in shaping a character for a reader. Readers will garner different ideas of someone if they're smoking a corncob vs. puffing on a churchwarden (the really long ones)

Most smokers are sharers. If you're writing a time period that has a lot of smoking in it your character will be offered at least once. This can give you both a more fleshed-out feel to the world AND a reaction from your character to build them- and the offeror- more.

Some people just aren't sharers! That also says a lot about them if everyone else offers but they don't.

Gives your characters something to do while sitting down that's not inherently plot-relevant but is something other than waving their hands everywhere.

[gurugirl]

In the Beginning | Prequel to Forgive Me, Father

Summary: This prequel details Harry's slow sexual awakening up until he meets Y/n.

A/n: Just a little something extra - much of what is here was pulled from the original story when I felt it was getting too long but I was told I should have left it in - so here it is! 4k words

Warning: Religious themes, sub/dom dynamics, smut, blasphemy, cheating

| Read on Wattpad | Priestrry Masterlist |

The story of Harry’s awakening is something he thinks of fondly now that he allows himself to enjoy his sexual appetite. Especially now that he’s found his pet. The guilt that surrounded his sexuality and his preferences at the beginning was something he gradually learned to embrace.

When he was a boy, he attended Manchester Grammar, a large, all-boys school where Harry was always one of the top of the class and played multiple sports. Harry had always learned to do things the right way and how to be one of the best, if not the best.

Harry's Father was a churchwarden and would often welcome in the new parish priest, offering dinners and taking care of things to make the job easier on the priest. Harry would tag along at times, with his father, and over the years he became quite enamored with the life of priests and the catholic church. His mother never worked, but she supported Harry's father and took care of Harry and his older sister.

The Styles were very much involved in church life. It was what Harry knew during his youth. When he graduated from Manchester Grammar, he knew he wanted to train to be a priest. He went to an all men's religious college and during his second year, he started attending seminary when he settled on the path of his love for religious studies and the priesthood.

In his third year at college, he got his first tattoo. It was easily hidden. It wasn’t strictly forbidden to have tattoos as a priest (though very uncouth and quite rare), which is why he chanced getting one in the first place. But even then, he still didn’t want many knowing he had one. However, one led to another. And then another. The more tattoos he got the more he wanted. It became easy to hide them as no one would ever be seeing much of him without clothes anyway. He enjoyed the little secret and the way it felt when the needle punctured his flesh and pushed ink into the dermis, staining him with a covert story that only he knew about. It was also his first experience in finding satisfaction with pain.

During his final year in college, before he graduated to begin taking theology, he met a young man named Darren. Darren was in Harry's group of friends and it was the first time that Harry realized he was attracted to men. Darren had something about him that opened Harry's eyes and he had been able to ignore his attraction until he awoke in the middle of the night from a dream about Darren.

Harry had a roommate in the college dorm but he couldn't stop himself from wrapping his fist around his cock and finishing himself off to the image of Darren's mouth on him. In Harry's dream, he had his fingers in Darren's hair and was pushing and pulling Darren over his dick, up and down, forcefully.

The guilt Harry felt about masturbating in general was bad enough. He'd been taught by his mother (when she caught Harry wanking at the age of 14) that it was sinful and could invite Satan into their home and into his heart. So Harry rarely ever let his sin or his lust take over in a way that led him to masturbate.

But the guilt he felt when he masturbated to the image of Darren, a man, was almost unbearable. Harry cut off contact with his friend completely after that because he knew he couldn't control himself. Harry never let himself be put into a position where he'd act on his carnal feelings. And Darren was someone he lusted after so he did what he needed to do to completely suppress his feelings.

When he studied Theology and philosophy after graduating from seminary he was also training as a deacon in a church and met a young woman called Ally. She was so sweet and bright and thoughtful. And she always blushed and looked away from Harry every time they spoke. There was something so gentle and meek about her. She was shy but she was quick to help and assist when needed. Harry found her personality appealing.

Harry began fantasizing about bossing her around a little. It started, maybe not entirely innocently but not in such a way that Harry recognized his fantasies as sexual at first.

He'd imagine telling her to turn the page on his Bible while he read aloud so he could keep his hands clasped together. Or have her pull his chair out for him and wait by his side for further instructions. He'd wonder what it would be like to have her on her knees next to him and praying to God while Harry critiqued her prayer.

Slowly his fantasies became more sinful and he imagined her doing these things with less clothing until he imagined her naked and crawling to him, begging him for tasks. Every time he saw her he found her more and more appealing. She was cute, certainly. But Harry was always doing his best not to look too closely.

But Harry did recognize the dreams he'd have that began regularly when he became the transitional deacon on his way to becoming a priest. Lusty, sinful, sexy... Harry hated waking up with a hard-on and he didn't always take care of himself. He was able to push his desires down and it only made him feel stronger and more pious.

On an evening after late Sunday mass, most people had left the church but Ally stayed behind to help clean up when she didn't need to. Harry couldn't help himself when he told her to adjust her ponytail as it was falling from the band, "Straighten that up a bit. You look messy." Harry watched her take the hairband from her hair and then smooth her hair out before putting her hair back into a tighter ponytail while she looked at him, "Like that?" She asked with big innocent eyes.

Harry excused himself to go to the men's room after that. He couldn't help himself. She'd only readjusted her ponytail but the fact that she'd done it at his command and while looking at him like she had he nearly lost it.

After relieving his dick and praying for forgiveness he went back to Ally and told her she was done for the day. Ally left with no remarks or questions, just nodding and smiling shyly. That was even a turn-on for Harry and he didn't know why.

On another occasion, Ally was next to him during a luncheon. Everyone was in line to pick up a plate and she smelled so pretty.

Harry asked her if she was wearing perfume and she told him she was. Harry watched her plate some potatoes for herself and then before she could scoop up anything else Harry took her plate from her, "Plate mine."

Ally looked up at him as Harry gave her his plate and he held hers. She looked confused but she did as he demanded. He told her what he wanted on his plate and she listened to him as she filled it. When they got to the end of the line, Harry gave her her plate back, with only the potatoes as she handed him his, "You shouldn't wear such strong perfume at church. Now get back in line to get your food."

He didn't know why he'd done that either. It just felt natural. He didn't know why he wanted to punish her for wearing such pretty perfume, but she didn't make a peep about it, going to the back of the line and then being one of the last to eat.

But with each new thing Harry discovered about himself, he would also dream about doing such things to her, or someone unknown. But in his dreams, things were more sinful. Quite a bit more sinful. Many he'd wake up from having the most shameful feelings in his heart. Dreams of tying someone to his bed and playing with them, leaving them and having them still there for him after coming back from a long day of school and work.

One morning, when Harry was at church Ally came by, unexpectedly. She sought Harry and confronted him, "Why do you demand things of me? Have I done something wrong?" She'd grown tired of the way Harry would treat her. He wasn't mean, but he was bossy and he certainly wasn't nice either. He was surprised that she’d found the gall to ask him.  

Harry didn't know how to answer her. She looked so soft on the morning she arrived to speak to him and he wished he could understand it himself. When he was tempted to lean down to kiss her he realized he needed to keep his distance from her once and for all. She was too tempting and too sweet. She'd only continue to do what he wanted and he didn't know how far he would push it, because, in his dreams, he was taking her virginity (which also meant he was losing his own virginity) in a rather filthy way.

From then on he avoided Ally, even though he caught her often looking at him with her big innocent eyes and a pout on her face.

His dreams continued to get nastier. He dreamt of men and woman and spankings, floggings... He began to flog himself as well as a way to receive penance. But he learned after a handful of self-floggings that he liked it. He'd even get an erection from it. He thought he was damaged or perhaps the few times he had masturbated did invite Satan into his heart and so he was suffering from the sin of being possessed.

When he met with his elders and leaders to get council about his dreams (he didn't go into detail because he would have surely not been allowed to continue his path) they only told him it was normal to have lustful dreams but that he must resist the temptation to act them out while he was awake.

So Harry did just that. He'd wake from disgusting and depraved dreams, wet in his underpants from coming (he didn't even need to have his hand around his cock he was so horny from all the denied orgasms) and he'd ask forgiveness and put it out of his mind.

When he moved to Wisconsin to his first true priest's parish, he continued to keep his urges a secret. He pushed them down, flogged himself regularly, and prayed to God to deliver him from his own carnal thoughts.

He recognized it when he saw attractive men and women but his guilt always did him in at the end of the day. Floggings became a pleasure and replaced masturbation for him. He didn't need to have an orgasm to feel relief. He would strike his back and let the leather cut into his skin and it redirected him, but he always got an erection from it. There were times Harry considered leaving the priesthood so he could finally know what it was like to carry out his fantasies.

The day Mrs. Brockton invited him for dinner he was having a rough day. He'd woken up with his cock drained of his come after the lewdest dreams so he flogged himself to ask forgiveness and his cuts went deeper than normal, causing tears to leak from his eyes from the pain. But it didn't stop his dick from hardening up. But, being the good and holy man that he was, he ignored his lust and didn't touch his plumped penis for relief of any kind. He ached to have his balls emptied again, but he felt powerful knowing how he could still deny his flesh.

So, when Mrs. Brockton revealed they were alone, Harry knew he should leave. He knew Mrs. Brockton found him attractive, he could tell by the way she flirted. And Harry noticed it because he found Mrs. Brockton very attractive. She was ten years older than him with no children, but she was married. And she was gorgeous with big lips and big tits and a nice round ass Harry tried to not imagine spanking.

That day, in particular, had been difficult for Harry so he grew hard in his pants at just the touch of her hand on his knee. It was embarrassing.

But he needed to take care of his problem before she knew what was happening and when she found him in the bathroom pumping himself and on the verge of coming, she took him down her throat, and it was as if Harry wasn't even the one making the decisions. The very second she fell to her knees in front of him he turned into a man who wasn't a priest, but a man with a need and a desire that was so strong it could no longer be ignored.

He pressed her head down over him as she bobbed on his cock and she looked up at him with a bit of surprise when he forced her down and she gagged. He released her quickly and tried to apologize but she just smiled and went back to work to finish him off and it was the first time Harry had ever felt anything like it. To come at the hands of another.

He left quickly after with apologies and shame. The guilt that struck him was nearly enough to make him fly back to London and leave the priesthood for good. He cried to God and didn't allow himself to sleep in his bed or eat for three days.

He tried to avoid Mrs. Brockton but the following week she came to him in the confessional and he knew it was her when she uttered her first word. He would never forget her voice or her perfume.

"I've sinned, Father. I've cheated on my husband. Took an attractive younger man's penis into my mouth and swallowed his seed down. And the worst part is how much I enjoyed it and how much I wish it could happen again."

He listened to her describe the blowjob and his breathing deepened. He became angry but he was horny too.

"Enough. Stop it. You've been very bad and you've tricked a young man into sinning. You are like Eve in the Garden of Eden. A temptress and a sinner."

Mrs. Brockton stayed quiet as Harry's demeanor changed from his usual kind and warm manner to something darker and dominating.

Harry's mouth was nearly watering at the lustful things he was thinking and his dick was hard. God if only he could have controlled that side of himself at that moment. He continued, "You will need to pray on your knees to God for your salvation and for the young man who you've tempted and tricked. Right now."

It happened so fast. Harry was unlocking the little hook to the door and pulling Mrs. Brockton into his side of the box. He pushed her down and made her pray in between his legs (the little confessional box was a tight fit so Harry had to open his legs up to allow Mrs. Brockton space to get on her knees). She pressed her hands together and began praying as Harry took his penis out and wrapped his hand around himself, pumping his cock as she kept her head down.

When she began to repeat a prayer of forgiveness Harry yanked her by her hair and brought her mouth to the crown of his cock, "Keep praying," he said as he pushed her down onto him and threw his head back. She licked and sucked as Harry kept his hands in her hair to control her pace.

Before he could come she shoved at him and gasped when his dick was pulled out of her throat, "Father Harry, please..." she said as she stood and lifted her skirt and climbed into his lap. She took his hand and brought it down to her panties, "Feel this. Have you ever felt a woman when she's wet before? Wet from lust?"

Harry was speechless. He let Mrs. Brockton guide his fingers under her panties and feel her pubic hair and her wet crease. She moved his hand up and down so he could really feel it and he let out a small gasp when she brought his hand up to her mouth and sucked on his finger.

"Would you like to feel it on your big cock?" She said as she rubbed his foreskin and squeezed his shaft in her palm.

Harry shook his head no so she began to move off his lap at his answer, but he grasped her hips and held her still so she couldn't move off of him. He closed his eyes as he pulled her up to him and she rubbed herself on him. He felt her hair meet his shaft and then the wetness it left behind. Harry grasped onto her bottom and pushed her in closer and he let out the smallest whimper.

Harry was fighting with himself. An internal battle that had begun years ago, and now, it would be so easy to let it just happen. But the guilt was not as strong as the lust and the need he had at that moment.

"May I Father?" She said as she brushed her mouth on his and lifted herself upward. He didn't respond so she only brushed his tip into her folds and placed him at her entrance, never sinking down onto him but letting him feel his crown at her wet hole, "All you have to do is push it in, that's my opening and it's wet and warm, and ready for you."

He had been so close but he pushed her off at the last second. He was not the same after that.

In fact, the next time they saw one another it was Harry who went to her. He'd gotten condoms (he stole them actually, as the person at the register knew who he was and he couldn't get caught with condoms - just another thing to add to his list of sins) because he had planned for it this time. He couldn't deny it any longer and he knew Mrs. Brockton was willing and wouldn't say a word. Mr. Brockton had left town and when Harry showed up at her door she smiled and knew why he was there.

She sucked him off first and he came in under two minutes. Then she laid herself out on her bed and spread her legs for him and walked him through cunnilingus, “I’ll show you how to eat, Harry.” Harry was eager and horny and he was good. He didn't make her come the first time, but he got her nice and wet, and then she showed him how to put the condom on.

The moment he sunk his cock inside of Mrs. Brockton he coughed out a moan and his heart pounded out of his chest.

She praised him as he pushed in and pulled out, slowly then a little harder and a little faster. She complimented his big dick and moaned his name loudly. She encouraged him to look down at where they were connected and when he did he came into his condom with a groan.

But their affair didn't stop there. Harry visited Mrs. Brockton often and she knew where to find him as well. When he learned to control his orgasm, to hold out longer he became even kinkier, reliving all of his dreams and fantasies. Mrs. Brockton encouraged him to put his hand around her throat in his rectory when he fucked her against his desk.

The first time he spanked her she was surprised because he'd done it without being prompted. She liked it. So did he.

They maintained a quiet affair for about six months. Harry wavered between hating himself and loving his new self.

On an evening when Harry was very needy and horny Mrs. Brockton couldn't see him because her husband was home. That was the first time Harry began researching where he could go for sex without it being a proustite situation. There were clubs in Milwaukee and Chicago and even Kenosha, Wisconsin. His research led him to a sex club in Chicago where he found many willing participants. Chicago was nearly two and a half hours away but the club was discreet and far enough away that he felt like he'd never run into anyone that went to his church.

It was at the club that he learned he was dominant and preferred his partners to be submissive. He learned a lot from Mrs. Brockton, but in the years following their affair, he learned even more by going to the club and meeting people.

Occasionally he'd bring them back with him. He'd tell them his situation, that he was a priest, and some really liked that. Others wouldn't touch it. But the ones who liked it and still wanted him only gave him more confidence to do what his worldly self desired.

The longer he could keep someone around (which was never very long because most had jobs and lives to get back to) the easier it became for him to forgive himself.

And the more he forgave himself, the more he enjoyed himself. He realized he had very little resistance when it came to people wanting to fuck him. He learned he was very appealing and attractive to most which fed his ego.

He would go through short periods of fasting from sex and his desires, but each time he went back into it, he got deeper into the things he enjoyed. He bought a cage and a bar with cuffs that hung in his room. People liked when he punished them. Harry liked to punish people and tell them what to do.

One young man, Arthur, he kept for much longer than the others. Arthur didn't need to work because he was born into money. And Arthur was very pretty and submissive. He connected well with him, but every now and then, Arthur would do something that Harry just didn't like. So he would punish Arthur but he never seemed to learn. Harry didn't mind the occasional brat, but Arthur was a brat more often than not. In fact, one time, Harry had a small group over as he normally did on Sunday afternoons and occasionally during the week for prayer. Arthur was tied up and gagged and placed in the cage during the hour-long meeting. But Arthur thought it might be funny to make a little noise in hopes of getting a really bad punishment.

Harry knew Arthur would get risky sometimes so tying him up and gagging him was necessary when he had guests.

But Arthur was able to push his elbow against the back wall of the cage, making a muted thudding noise.

The guests could all hear it and one of them asked what the noise was. Harry was hoping they wouldn't notice it.

He made up a quick lie about a water pipe that began knocking, which would be fixed soon.

The moment his guests left, Harry stormed into his bedroom, untied Arthur, and drove him to the train station to go back to Winnetka where he lived. He explained that it just wasn't working.

Arthur was quite upset, but so was Harry. Harry really did like him a lot. They got along well and the sex was better than he'd ever had so it was very disappointing that it didn't work.

But then, he met Y/n. Harry had gotten pretty good at recognizing when someone was naturally submissive. He saw her in the congregation and felt something immediately. He wasn't sure until he learned more about her and got to know her, but he had not been disappointed at all. Y/n turned out to be exactly what he'd been searching for.

And Harry was exactly what Y/n needed just the same.

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[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

As a result, the general public also became increasingly concerned about the education of the peasantry, and during the 18th century the network of peasant schools in Livland grew considerably, and in the second half of the century the results of this policy are evident – every year, hundreds of peasant children learned to read, and many also to write, and new horizons opened up for the most gifted, the most diligent, the most able, which had been inaccessible to the Latvian peasant until then – they became teachers, clerks, sextons and churchwardens, lay judges of the peasant courts, and in the 19th century, largely thanks to the transformation brought about by the idea of the teachers' seminary at the Valmiermuiža parish, they were able to acquire higher education and become pastors.

P.S. The proper education and the will to achieve your goals are the keys to success...

[lesmisscraper]

Brick... with animation!

23. Marius Became a Bonapartist

"I do not wish you to have a bad opinion of me. You see, I am attached to this place. It seems to me that the mass is better from here. Why? I will tell you. It is from this place, that I have watched a poor, brave father come regularly, every two or three months, for the last ten years, since he had no other opportunity and no other way of seeing his child, because he was prevented by family arrangements. He came at the hour when he knew that his son would be brought to mass. The little one never suspected that his father was there. Perhaps he did not even know that he had a father, poor innocent! The father kept behind a pillar, so that he might not be seen. He gazed at his child and he wept. He adored that little fellow, poor man! I could see that. This spot has become sanctified in my sight, and I have contracted a habit of coming hither to listen to the mass. I prefer it to the stall to which I have a right, in my capacity of warden. I knew that unhappy gentleman a little, too. He had a father-in-law, a wealthy aunt, relatives, I don't know exactly what all, who threatened to disinherit the child if he, the father, saw him. He sacrificed himself in order that his son might be rich and happy some day. He was separated from him because of political opinions. Certainly, I approve of political opinions, but there are people who do not know where to stop. Mon Dieu! a man is not a monster because he was at Waterloo; a father is not separated from his child for such a reason as that. He was one of Bonaparte's colonels. He is dead, I believe. He lived at Vernon, where I have a brother who is a cure, and his name was something like Pontmarie or Montpercy. He had a fine sword-cut, on my honor." "Pontmercy," suggested Marius, turning pale. "Precisely, Pontmercy. Did you know him?" "Sir," said Marius, "he was my father." The old warden clasped his hands and exclaimed:-- "Ah! you are the child! Yes, that's true, he must be a man by this time. Well! poor child, you may say that you had a father who loved you dearly!" - Vol 3, book 3, chapter 5

After Marius became a law student and Gillenormand got older, they left Madame's salon on Faubourg Saint-Germain and settle down on Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire.

In 1827, when Marius was 17, his grandfather ordered him to go Vernon, to see his father. But Marius did not have any emotion about father, since Gillenormand 'brainwashed' him.

But since grandfather insisted to do that, he headed to Vernon the next day, but Georges Pontmercy was dead. He really wanted to meet his son, although his body was in bad condition, he woke up from his bed and and fell on the floor.

Everything the colonel left was dead or sold except for one thing: his letter to Marius.

That letter was like this.

For my son.--The Emperor made me a Baron on the battle-field of Waterloo. Since the Restoration disputes my right to this title which I purchased with my blood, my son shall take it and bear it. That he will be worthy of it is a matter of course.

And there was an additional line below.

At that same battle of Waterloo, a sergeant saved my life. The man's name was Thenardier. I think that he has recently been keeping a little inn, in a village in the neighborhood of Paris, at Chelles or Montfermeil. If my son meets him, he will do all the good he can to Thenardier.

Familiar name, huh?

But he did not care about that letter seriously. He went to the mass at  Saint-Sulpice church as usual, and he accidentally sat on the churchwarden's seat. Then he heard why that warden wanted to sit on there. The old churchwarden told Marius the poor father's story and Marius got startled. His father always loved him. The bad person was not his father, his grandfather. That churchwarden was Mabeuf, the friend of Col. Pontmercy.

After that mass, he went to a library to search all about Napoleon, and he found his father's names on several pages. He was a great man, not a brigand like his grandfather told about him. Soon, Marius became a Bonapartist. And one night, he even opened the window and exclaimed: "Long live the Emperor!"(What a BOOBY....) He also ordered a hundred of business card written as <Le Baron Marius Pontmercy>.

He also spent several days to find the sergeant who saved his father. And Marius found his inn... without him. His inn was bankrupted at that time, and even Thenardier's creditors could not find him.

Since Marius went out a lot, his grandfather and aunt thought he had a girlfriend(yes, a little bit later, though...), and aunt Gillenormand sent lieutenant Theodule, great-grand-nephew of M. Gillenormand(but I can't find him in this 52-episode cartoon!). At first, he saw Marius buying a flower, and going to a church. Lt. Theodule thought he had a girlfriend, and was going to meet her at a mass. But....

What Theoudule saw was not a girl, but a grave. Marius put the flower on the tombstone, and paid respects. Later, his grandfather spied on Marius' clothes.

[clove-pinks]

I found some interesting biographical information about our friend Lieutenant Gabriel Bray, shown above painting his self-portrait in April 1775 with his watercolours kit, in what is probably the wardroom of HMS Pallas (NMM).

If you're not familiar with Gabriel Bray's wonderful art depicting the world of the late 18th century Royal Navy, you're in luck! His pictures are priceless primary sources.

A sailor fishing off of a gun, and two Royal Marines, both from the Pallas album.

Bray is one of the seafarers in Huw Lewis-Jones' book The Sea Journal: Seafarers' Sketchbooks, which provides more information about his life than the National Maritime Museum, Greenwich:

The son of a mariner, Gabriel Bray joined the navy at fifteen as a captain's servant. In the first six years of his sea career he served on six different ships and managed to pass his lieutenant exams in 1770, but no ships were available for a posting. His lucky break came in 1773, when assisting on the royal yacht Augusta at the fleet review in Spithead. He secretly sketched the scene and, having sat up all night to finish the painting, then managed to have it presented to King George III the following day; the king apparently liked it so much he promoted Bray on the spot.

As a keen artist, Bray made numerous watercolours on his voyages to West Africa and Jamaica when lieutenant on the frigate Pallas. His commander was Sir William Cornwallis, later the well-known admiral 'Billy Blue', a friend of Nelson and commander of the Channel Fleet during the war with France. Lacking the right family connections, Bray never advanced beyond the rank of lieutenant, so settled instead for commands of the revenue cutters Sprightly, Enterprise, Nimble, and Scourge, defending the English coast against smugglers. [...] On one notable occassion it is said he even fought off a Frenchman wielding a blunderbuss. After all this drama, he spent his final years in Dorset, a happy churchwarden.

— Huw Lewis-Jones, The Sea Journal: Seafarers' Sketchbooks

'Sketch between Decks, May 75': midshipmen in the ship's cockpit reading and studying by candlelight, as Bray himself would have lived as a middie.