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Love to fill them up 😌

#gay smoker #pipe boy #pipe stud #pipe gay #pipe smoker #tobacco pipe #pipe tobacco #gay men #cigarfetish #cigarlover

Bluegrass Pipe Club

#tobacco pipe #pipe tobacco #Instagram

Daisy is still on her trainer pipe but eventually she'll be puffing the ole tobaccy like her peepums.

#me #daisy #tolkien #isolationman #pipe tobacco

Alma & her beloved (pipe tobacco)

I know in my heart that Miss Peregrine is a pipe and pipe tobacco aficionado and absolutely insufferable about it.

She has a locked drawer of pipes in the study, including a few antiques from as far back as the 1790s. Her oldest is made of ivory, carved in the shape of a castle, and she cleans it with a tiny soft brush once a month even though it’s only for display and hasn’t made contact with a pinch of tobacco — or sunlight — since she acquired it (not strictly legally).

Her most cherished pipes are those given to her by others. Upon her graduation from the Ymbryne Academy, Miss Avocet gifted her a simple but lovely maroon-colored pipe with “A.L.P.” engraved near the lip of the bowl along with a small carving of a peregrine, so that when she used it, she could trace her thumb over it’s ridges and remember fondly those easier times.

Back when they all still had birthdays to celebrate, the children gave her a pipe while they were with the traveling show. They’d saved up their personal tips for months and bought her something from a Romani woman at one of their late summer destinations. She didn’t know how they’d figured out her birthday but suspected it involved pestering someone in show management. She disapproved on principle. Ymbrynes make a point not to reveal unnecessary personal details to their wards.

Still, it unleashed an unexpected tidal wave of emotion in Miss Peregrine when they shyly presented her with it. It was expertly carved from briar wood and stained a deep blue with outstretched wings sprouting from the sides and a falcon’s head pointing resolutely forward.

“It’s a peregrine,” Olive supplied helpfully when Miss Peregrine lapsed into a rare moment of speechlessness.

“She knows that, stupid,” Enoch chastised, and Olive glared.

“It’s lovely,” Miss Peregrine said finally, horrified to find her voice choked and watery. “Come here,” she breathed quickly, motioning the children into her arms to hide the tears prickling at her eyes. The older ones, who saw the emotion in her, felt their own throats growing thick.

Her favorite pipe, however, is the one she carved, sanded, treated, and stained herself. The length, angle of the neck, and exact size of the bowl are perfect for Miss Peregrine’s particular tastes. It’s the one she uses most frequently today.

Though, once, a long time ago, she feared she’d spoiled herself, that her collection was indulgent and therefore distracting from her charges. It was soon after Victor passed and Abe left, and maybe she was feeling self-pitying. So, she locked her pipe and tobacco drawers and dramatically threw the key into the ocean.

Then Hanukkah and Christmas came, and Abe visited. The pipe he gifted her was small and chipped, but it had a quaint little oceanfront painted on it, and he blushingly said it was all he could afford. Miss Peregrine kissed him on the forehead and squeezed the life out of his hand.

“I thought you quit?” Emma asked curiously. The children hadn’t seen her smoke in weeks. Realizing this was now part of her mythos as headmistress — and given the convenient excuse to be a little self-indulgent — she replied easily.

“Nonsense!”

It was only later did she have to ask Millard to pick the lock on her drawers and see if he couldn’t find her key with a big magnet on the beach. He was diligent and discreet and retrieved it for her only a week later.

Her tobacco collection is just as extensive as her pipes. She has dozens of flavors from dozens of exotic places and often mixes two or more for a unique and complex profile. Sometimes, she likes to test herself, see how many notes she can lift from the smell and flavor. She’d never ask the children to prepare a surprise pipe for her to test her skills, but she’s thought about it once or twice.

For visitors — if they’re very special or important — she keeps a separate guest pipe and pipe tobacco. For all others, there is an aging tin of rolling tobacco, papers, and filters, which she never touches. Rolling tobacco is harsh, bitter, and beneath her sensible and refined palate. If Miss Peregrine offers to roll you a cigarette, know that she despises you greatly.

Once, at a Council meeting to nitpick the bylaws, Miss Peregrine engaged another ymbryne in such a heated and public discussion about pipe vs. rolling tobacco they had to adjourn the meeting early. In the meeting minutes, the reason cited was emotional distress. It wasn’t Miss Peregrine’s finest moment, but it was also a very dull year.

If you let her, Miss Peregrine will talk, talk, talk your ear off about the history, production process, traditions, and craft of pipes and pipe tobacco. Unfortunately, the children just don’t seem to care the way she does.

#mphfpc #alma peregrine #alma lefay peregrine #pipe tobacco #i love a character who smokes it’s like my achilles heel #miss peregrine #miss peregrine headcanon #alma peregrine headcanon #writing #olive elephanta #millard nullings #enoch o'connor #miss avocet #emma bloom #esmerelda avocet

Pass It On (2)

I am indebted to @timjc14225 for reminding me (admonishing?) of the importance of passing on those pipe smoking rituals and skills to the next generations. And I have to say, I entirely agree, but for completely selfish reasons. Can you guess what they are, boys and girls?

I suspect a lot of you out there are much like me: a hairy old pipe and cigar smoking geezer interested in the company or other hairy old pipe and cigar smoking geezers. And why not? The pleasure of the company of a mature bear of a man, whether socially, emotionally or physically (or all three, for that matter), is not to be underestimated.

Pipe and cigar smoking do not count as habits, in my book. They are hobbies, pastimes and, above all, sets of groin-tingling rituals that complement masculinity and masculine sexual activity.

So, given that I have as much interest in young pipe smokers as I have in women (i.e. none at all), why should it bother me whether or not a young man takes up pipe and/or cigar smoking? Well, I suppose the first reason relates to hypocrisy: I, myself, tasted my first pipe smoke at age 14. By 17, the man who would later marry me, my Brian, had bought me my first pipe, tobacco, leather tobacco pouch, pipe cleaners and pipe smoker's knife. Smoking our pipes or cigars (or both) became an evening's bedtime pleasure and tradition. It continues to this day.

And that's why, whenever I fill and light my pipe or cut and light my cigar (or if I smell another man's pipe or cigar), my little mate nestling between my legs immediately sits up and takes notice. So who am I, an old codger who was once a young pipe smoker, not to help a younger man along on his pipe and cigar journey?

Then the hard bit: you and I aren't getting any younger. I've lost count of the funerals I've been to these last few years and there'll be more to come. So what happens if we pipe smoking old gentlemen shuffle off this mortal coil without ensuring there are younger gentlemen passionate about their pipes and cigars lining up to take our place?

That's right: it becomes economically unviable to sell cigars and cigar cutters and cigar cases and cigar humidors and pipes and pipe tobacco and leather pouches and pipe cleaners and pipe smoker's knives and... we dedicated smokers can't get hold of them any more! The tobacconists shut down and are gone and the world becomes a less aromatic, less interesting and less masculine place.

Excuse my French, but what a fucking disaster of a world that would be. And it would all be the fault of us older men who failed to fight the good fight and maintain the serious art of pipe and cigar smoking with younger men.

Now, look. I'm not saying you have to sleep with a younger man to pass on your mature smoking wisdom (like my Brian did with me), unless you want to. All I'm saying is: carry a spare pipe with you and, when the opportunity arises, hold out a masculine hand of friendship with a packed pipe, pull yourself in close to him and teach him the subtle art and infinite manly pleasures of proper smoking.