#sunday thoughts

[corazcnvs]

Hot take aber: Leo is still in the closet

wer ist bereit für diesen talk?🫣🙂‍↕️

[beccawise7]

Sunday snippet... 💜🖤💜🖤

[muscatt]

SUNDAY NSFW HEADCANNONS

-

it’s not very very nsfw it’s just subtle.. pt2 will be more nsfw

-imagine if his wings flutter to cover his face when he’s embarrassed

you walk into sunday’s study, it’s quiet.. yet the only noises that can be heard is soft writing and papers gliding across each other.

he looks up, softly smiling at you. it’s been a while since you seen him this soft. he focuses back onto his paper, picking up his pen to continue whatever he was writing. he looks ever so graceful, his hair in a neat yet messy way, his organized desk, how did you even get the chance to meet such a perfect guy like him?

you can’t help but get the urge to just compliment him! he’s just too fine right now! ugh! it’s like having a middle school crush you’re twiddling your thumbs over, making sure you’re always looking pretty for!

“you’re quite cute when you’re focused..”

you immediately regret your decision when he looks up at you confused, did i look weird? did i come off too strong!?

“thank you..”

you quickly look up, his wings covering his face while he looks away from you. he’s flustered and you know it! you pause realizing you’re really heating up now! your face is hot and red!

you don’t really know what to even do now! the awkward silence between you and him is just killing you! so you just think of something quick! walking over to his desk and hugging him? was that even a good idea?

you walk over to his desk, standing behind him, putting your arms over his shoulders. he smells so good! wait. is that weird to say?

“h-huh..?”

he keeps his face covered, gently grabbing your hands, pulling you even closer. you’re so close… your head is on the crook of his neck now!

“this.. this is nice..”

you mutter, it took you way too much courage to even say that, but how could you not? he smells good, looks great, looks adorable, and lastly! he’s your significant other!

you finally look down, eyes widening when you realize he’s hard

just from one compliment.

-imagine if his halo flickers when’s he cums + his wings being super duper sensitive!

you’re even more flustered now! but you know what! you’re gorgeous strong independent! you’re sure you can handle this situation right! right?

“you’re quite hard now sunday..”

your hands start to roam around his chest, slowly taking off his jacket. his wings still covering his face.

“c’mon… don’t be shy..”

your hand grazes his wings, you softly attempt to move his wings out of his face. they twitch and flutter every time you try to brush his wings away. his halo starts to flicker instantly that’s not usual? the bright gleaming halo is now flickering and twitching so much!

“oh wow.. your wings are a lot more sensitive sunday”

you hear sunday clear his voice, he’s gripping the armrests on his chair. his hands fidgeting around, he keeps groaning.

“a-ahem.. it’s nothing..”

his voice is so whiny now? you swear he never sounded like this before! you know what! you’re getting to the bottom of this.

you quickly swivel his chair around, wrapping your hand around his chin forcing him to look at you. you take one good look at him, his crotch mostly. there’s a large dark spot staining his crotch.

oh my aeons.. he just came from you touching his wings.

maybe that’s how you ended up overstimulating him till he cries but that’s for another day…

[catjar91]

It just occurred to me that Tom Riddle would have loved being a priest in some American backwater village where everyone goes to church and believes everything their priest says.

He would've had the most power in town, being the most respected, and they would all tell him their secrets of their own free will during confession. He'd get so much blackmail material on everyone and get his fill of gossip every week.

No one would touch him except for a handshake here and there and perhaps a clasp on his shoulder during some sort of official function, despite people fawning after him left right and center.

They wouldn't even question when he exercises power over every field of their lives, 'cause that's just what a priest does, right?

He even could drive to another town, kill someone there to sate his urges and wouldn't even have to lift a finger for people to fall over themselves to tell the cops that 'No, of course our dear Father Riddle cannot be the culprit, why I just saw him tending to his flowers during that time' and 'Father Riddle? Couldn't hurt a fly, he couldn't, I've seen him helping old Marge with her roof' etc.

He would've loved it, I'm convinced.

[miseryneverknows]

One thing i envy about paul is his endless drive and energy to acomplish whatever he wants. I'm a very ambitious creature but unfortunaly i relate a lot to john in i'm only sleeping

[beadigitaldiary]

˜”*°•.˜”*°• WHY I LOVE SUNDAYS! •°*”˜.•°*”˜

Gods day!

Relaxation time and things feel more quiet and slowed down!

A day to reset and reflect!

Sleeeeeep!

All your work is done!

Self care self care self care!

Prepping for a new week!

The vibe is always nice!

[gracefullyspiteful]

Do you ever wonder which season did Rob have to wear a Wig ???

Because although I do remember when good Sir Rob James Collier looked like a handsome shaved egg and I also remember he mentioned on a couple of occasions they made him a wig for it but i never paid attention to when his hair looked off??

[aritealeaf]

Blue Period is a must-see for all creative people as a form of therapy. If you draw, write, sing, consider art a part of yourself, Blue Period is for you. For me. It’s like I was born again with the goal of finding myself, and my body is naked in the sand where it was abandoned, and I really don’t want to get up and go look for an oasis, but damn… Damn. This series made me remember the desire to look for a blue spot on the map of the dunes. The desire to draw it myself. And even though my body is still naked, and I’m not standing… I crawl through self-hatred. Because I can’t do it any other way. It makes me angry. I want to give up just as much as I want to crawl on. And giving up is more logical. But I still crawl. The series only reminded me of the path I’ve taken and that all these years I still haven’t given up. For some reason. The series only reminded me that art stripped me and left me lying on the sand in the first place. The series merely reminded me that art has been with me throughout my life, my eternal friend, enemy, and parent. I want to say that, no matter what, I'll keep crawling, just to find a home where art reigns, but I'm tired. If I crawl, it's with the hope that I'm crawling in the right direction. That art's home is there, in a straight line. Maybe I'll die knowing I did everything right up until this point, even if I didn't become an artist, a genius. But I was crawling in the right direction. I made a couple of people happy.

The only question is... Can I still make anyone happy? Can I make myself happy again with my art? Without thinking about the consequences, criticism, my opinion, the voices of others, the voice of severity, the voice of justice? Simply because I want to. Because I love. I love what wasn't written by me, but has become a part of me. I love what's mine, what came back to me in the words I've found, what I've appropriated without reproach or condescension? When will I be able to love again because I want to? When will I be able to love, write, create, without caring how others do it? Am I allowed to love, write, and create? Why can't I allow myself to? Love? Write? Create?

Perhaps my thoughts are the beginning of the end. Or the series will be the beginning of my return. Or at least a stepping stone. A stone sinking into the ground. To make it easier to push off—

And crawl on.

(@bluebirdjay made me post this please blame her not me)