#Pastor Thoughts

[millennialpastor]

Easter is not an answer but a promise

We are coming to the final days of Easter: nearly seven weeks of celebrating the Resurrection. We began with the disciples experiencing the death and resurrection of Christ—this apocalyptic moment, this instance of God breaking into our history⎯the moment that changed our trajectory. We lingered with the disciples as they met the Risen Christ in the upper room, on the road to Damascus, on the…

[rottenk1sses]

thinking of corrupting innocent art, maybe he grew up religious and his chastity ring is his most prized possession, but he can't say no to your advances, doesn't say yes either— but he never stays away for too long, anyway comes crawling back wordlessly like a puppy w his tail between his legs

cw : corruption, coercion/elements of dubcon (18+)

pastor’s son!art donaldson who stays in his hometown instead of going off to college; opting to help his father with the church as the months tick by, only fueled by a sense of duty and maybe a bit of religious guilt..

you knew the very instant you set eyes on him that you had to have him.

he always looked like an angel when he was stood behind his dad during services—the yellowed overhead light shining suspiciously brighter on him alone; his neatly groomed golden curls bouncing in front of his forehead with every obedient and devout nod of his head to the words of the verses. pretty, you had thought, pure.

the first time you ever tried to seduce him, the church had already emptied out to give you the perfect opportunity to slide into a pew and call him over to ‘talk’. of course, he was more than happy to do so. he talked with everyone, it was like a second nature to provide comfort to others.

he found you really attractive when he finally got a good look at you, sexy even. but the idea of perceiving you that way had curdled a gross feeling in his gut. it wasn’t right—it wasn’t him—and he knew that. but he still chose to sit down next to you that particular evening and indulge that disturbing part of himself. could it really be so wrong to appreciate one of god's fellow creations?

he knew deep down that god would be ashamed.

you had chatted him up for less than ten minutes (making up a sad story about how awful your life was going) before your hand was sneaking over his thigh, sliding over the dark fabric of his church slacks. he'd frozen completely stiff at the feeling, like he was scared of how he felt about the touch and petrified of the consequences.

art chuckled nervously and looked to your eyes, almost pleading.

“uhm,” he breathed out shakily, pushing your touch gently from his body, refusing your advances, “i don’t, uh.. im not—..”

he hoped that his lack of an actual explanation would be a good-enough one in of itself, but you pushed back anyway despite his protests. draping your leg over his, stroking his blond hair, leaning in to kiss his flushed neck. he was trembling all over. now god was really going to strike him dead.

“shhh,” you whispered, “just let me make you feel good, okay? that would really help me feel better…”

he wanted to say no. he wanted to shoot up from his seat and run away like a scared little pup, protecting the sanctity of his body and mind from whatever sin you were corrupted with, but he didn’t. a deeper, sicker part of him couldn’t. he was disgusted with himself.

an anxiousness started to brew just under his skin, and he felt it filtering through his blood like a petrifying poison. like a mess of flies buzzing around a decaying body that was buried deep in the midst of his morality. he couldn’t move; he couldn’t fight back.

but oh.. it.. it felt good..? and he did want to help you..

he was almost surprised by how quick he'd gotten an erection. it strained up against his zipper before you even got a chance to grope him properly.

and then you did.

and then he felt that awful, putrid, incredible feeling bubbling up from his pelvis; a feeling that he had only allowed himself to indulge in when he was at home, in the dead of night, tucked into the messy covers and rocking his hips into his mattress to chase the temptation.

an innocent loophole.

after all, he’d never physically touched himself there in a sexual manner, let alone with the hand of his that held a finger banded in silver—a symbol of his purity—so it would be alright in the end, right? he had only ever done it to scratch an itch. a forbidden itch, sure, but god wouldn’t want him to suffer like that. a quick bit of relief, and then it was over and done with. always.

but in that particular moment, when he was feeling someone’s touch over his pants for the very first time, he had decided that he wasn’t sure he wanted to indulge. maybe it really was as wrong as he knew it to be. he shook his head.

“wait—“ he gasped, squirming on the wooden pew as his head tipped back slightly, his trembling fingers squeezing the edge of the surface under him, “wait, wait, i— oh—oh-!”

he was letting out noises then that made him sound like an innocent fawn, wailing out in a mix of confusion and pleasure and shame and fear as he felt his cock spasm and flood his underwear with an overwhelming warmth. despite his verbal hesitation, he had pushed his hips up hard into your touch as he orgasmed—grinding against it as the shocks of release stung the finger that wore the ring of silver. he could almost feel the metal burning into his skin amidst all of the overstimulating ecstasy that caused his thighs to quake. guilt radiated through all of his bones; seeping into his marrow.

he had sinned, fully and wholly. he was a sinner.

your touch dirtied him. infected him.

you had made him this way.

he was supposed to be good; a good person, a good son, a good follower.

but you had ruined it. all of it.

he’d never been prone to anger, but right then he had wanted to shout. he wanted to shove you away, get down on his knees, and begin repenting. mumbling pleas and apologies with his hands clasped together and his head hung, bowed in penance. his body weighed down by the heavy stone of his own culpability in the situation; the realization that he hadn’t done enough to refuse your attention.

but, in the end, he couldn’t find it in himself to deny his body the gratification of being so close to you. he was no longer worthy of god’s forgiveness anyways, so he turned his head and looked to your eyes, tears pooling in his own. they dripped down his flushed cheeks as he pulled ragged, greedy gasps of air into his lungs. his chest rattled as he cried. the feeling of the slimy wetness soaking into his underwear had only made the sting of reality more pitiful.

if he had looked like an angel before all of this, he surely was a fallen one now.

“…th-thank you, i'm sorry…” he sobbed softly, “i’m sorry.”

he didn't quite know who he was apologizing to.

it had only felt right.

[gemstonecompound]

men will literally start a cult of jacked oily barechested gym bros to order around before they’ll admit that they wanna pursue a bdsm relationship with their utterly subservient not-boyfriend

[idioticvamp]

paging doctor beat ✨💊🩷

[jareaulover]

I can't believe that there are people out there who don't see Supernatural as a love story between a man and an angel. Like, how embarrassing.

[corvidesque]

was anyone going to tell me hans actually greets you in the morning if you sleep over at his poaching camp, or was i just going to have to find that out myself in my third playthrough

[transjackrabbit]

so much priest porn not enough pastor porn. the nice pastor who’s close with everyone’s families, knows everyone’s names, invites folks over for dinner.

only, when he invites you over, he tells you he knows what you are. he saw you in your first day in the church and knew it immediately, that you were hiding a soft, wet cunt under those baggy boy’s clothes.

he won’t tell the congregation, of course. he just wants to pray with you. go ahead, get on your knees, pray. keep praying as you feel his hand on your jaw, prying your mouth open, pressing his fingers inside.

he tells you this is what people like you are made for. you refuse your role as a woman, but clearly you can’t be a biblical man, either, you can’t get a wife and knock her up like a man should. so instead you’ll serve your pastor. this is what god made you for, this is why he made you like this.

[merakiui]

low-key I have been having BRAIN WORMS since Sundays myraid trailer because like his perfect sunny little dream is his sister looking all sweet and decent and domestic.....imagine you're like, his step sis or whatever and hes just got this vision for you, where you're all perfect and domestic like 🥹....DO YOU SEE THE VISION

I SEE THE VISION!!!! THE VISION IS SO TANGIBLE, IN FACT. Omg,,, as soon as I saw his “perfect paradise” I couldn’t help but think of how pastoral fantasy it seemed. Just,,, the windmills???? The sprawling land and hills??? Sunday, what is this domestic farm life you’ve envisioned??? 🤨 and the way Robin is dressed so modestly, singing to all of the children!!! It’s a really gentle sort of paradise. Even the sun is smiling. T_T Sunday is so cute. His intentions and dreams really are pure at heart. I think he’s the sort of man to take on all of these sins and guilts just so you can be happy and pure and always innocent.

Yes, he knows it’s so very wrong to lust for his stepsister in such lecherous ways. A taboo and a sin, the sort of thing that isn’t considered normal. May Xipe forgive him…or smite him on the spot for having such despicable thoughts. >_< he just can’t help it, and his access to the Dreamscape and its wonders only worsens this feverish indulgence of his. He knows this you is merely a figment, a vivid dream crafted from his own feelings and memories and desires, and there’s so much that needs to be filled in on account of his inexperience. Like what you look like beneath your clothes or how you taste.

These things aren’t perfectly replicated here, but then it’s with the help of anatomy textbooks and pornography from the various pleasure parlors scattered throughout the seedy parts of Penacony that help sketch a lifelike you. A stepsister who embraces her filthy, no-good devil of a stepbrother. And he feels you beneath him, warm and wonderful and alive (in a dreamy sort of way) and you’re a fantasy come to life. Oh, what he’d give to make this reality. He must work hard to accomplish this—to build a paradise befitting an angel like yourself, where you live peacefully and happily, where every day is just as idyllic as it is in a dream.

Sunday knows he ought to confess all of these terrible things—seat himself on the other side of that confessional and attempt to atone. He shouldn’t use the Dreamscape for such nefarious purposes. He shouldn’t use it to become someone else, to hide his appearance and take on that of your preferences or anyone attractive enough to catch your fancy. Rather, the idea that you’d want anyone else feels like punishment enough. He’s not worthy of you, but if anyone else were to have you he’d do everything within his power to be rid of them. What happens in the Dreamscape stays in the Dreamscape, and he would never want to deceive you or hurt you or defile you. But these dates are everything to him. The kisses and the handholding. Sometimes he forgets he’s not himself when it’s like this, and that it’s when he catches his reflection in a window that he realizes it could never be him, even if he’s so painfully himself. Still so neurotic and anxious and control-crazy; everything must be perfect, even in a dream. It’s what you deserve. Only the best and finest of sweet dreams.

He thinks it’d be easier if you could hate him outright or want to be rid of him somehow, but if that were to happen he’s not sure he could live with himself or the pain or the guilt or…everything.

But he would do anything to see you smile, even if it’s at the cost of his own.

And of course you’re not stupid. You know this mysterious man you’ve been dating in the Dreamscape is your stepbrother. :) he’s not very good at disguising his personality and quirks even when he looks like someone else. He doesn’t have to go to such wild lengths to be with you, but if you tell that to Sunday he may just cry from the relief and the doubt and the disbelief and every other feeling that comes crashing in all at once.

[atomhearte]

Saw this on twitter and dear fucking god it's so bleak that some random nerdy pastor from the 80s treated Jason Todd with more respect, grace, and sympathy than the comic book company that created him.

[flowerakatsuka]

i finally drew some designs for devimega!kuroba!! they're a god posing as a human saint so they can bother karamatsu hehe.

[ more info under the cut! ]

kuroba was originally a mere plant spirit that looked over the chruch's garden, making sure it stayed vibrant and brimming with life. the garden had a frequent visitor and admirer, a young priest named karamatsu who was raised there. he would sing the praises of the garden's beautiful flowers, calling it a " little peice of heaven " and often escaping to it to avoid his duties. kuroba greatly appreciated his compliments and company, even if he wasn't aware of their presence. eventually, his praises reached the ears of the church's visitors and the garden became something that drew people there.

thanks to all of karamatsu's and the garden's visitors' praise over time, kuroba was able to ascend to godhood. of course, the first thing they did upon being giving immense power was assume a human disguise in the hopes of meeting the priest that they had grown fond of and getting closer. they were quickly taken in by the church after being found in the garden, but soon after joined the clergy after purifying the soil of a farmer's plot that hadn't yielded crops that year. now thought of as a saint, they're enjoying their days at the chruch alongside karamatsu. they're definitely closer, mostly out of necessity since he seems to attract evil spirits like a moth to a flame.

as a god, they have the ability to spontaneously grow different types of plants, purify soil, and revive recently deceased plants. they can also heal injuries, but really only minor ones as they're essentially applying their abilities to purify soil and restore dead plants to the wound. also, since their godhood was achieved mostly due to one person, their powers aren't exactly the most stable. usually, this manifests in their disguise slipping slightly when they've used a lot of power or if they're tired, ( like with their ears returning to their original appearance. )

[millennialpastor]

Letting go of ourselves - so that Easter can hold us

In the second half of the season of Easter, we have been hearing Gospel readings and readings from the book of Acts about the early church sorting out who they were and what this new community of Jesus’ followers was supposed to be about in the world.  It can be a strange narrative to track. Benefiting from the perspective of two thousand years of church history, we come at the story backwards.…

[atlas-cian]

Asked my friends on Discord what they wanted and this is what I got.

Any more requests?

[finnie-cozy]

Drawing of my oc dave 🙏

[orangeamoeba]

imp / pastor dip au … :3

[bl-mitchum]

We may no longer write as many pastoral poems, but I think farming simulators like Harvest Moon and Stardew Valley sort of serve the same purpose.

[grntaire]

good omens dares to ask the important questions such as what if god used she/they pronouns and the serpent of eden was a faggot