#Angel Lip

[hotwaterandmilk]

Series: Angel Lip Artist: Arai Kiyoko Publication: Ciao Magazine (12/1996) Source: Scanned from my personal collection

[aurelieaura]

this.

[kristina-del-rey]

𝐼’𝓂 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝒸𝓇𝓎𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒶𝓉 𝒸𝑜𝒶𝒸𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓇

[3ris-d1st0rtionnn]

PSA to any nonhumans/otherkin/voidpunks who want a fang piercing to affirm themselves!!!

Do NOT do this:

This is a “smiley” piercing (a horseshoe bar through the frenulum); fang bars are NOT proper jewelry to wear in them! Their size and shape can increase the risk of gum recession and tooth chipping (and are at a higher risk of being torn out by mistake!), plus they’re difficult to live with when it comes to eating, drinking, and sleeping.

Do this instead:

These are vertical angel bites (AKA “angel fangs”), using a standard curved barbell with a spike on the bottom. They don’t extend into the oral cavity at all, which means your teeth won’t be damaged and there’s a lesser risk of injury. This piercing is also easier to live with so you can keep your fangs full-time (as long as the spikes you use aren’t TOO long, I’d recommend 3 to 4 mm).

Pls remember to affirm yourselves safely (especially with body modification), and only wear jewelry that’s meant to safely go in your piercing! 💕

(This is a safe space for MOGAI, otherkin, voidpunk, and nonhuman identities! Any offending or bigoted comments will be deleted and blocked. Please be respectful in the comments!!)

[alfaire]

ㅤ  🪞 ི₊ 🐇 ݁ . ꒱ㅤ   어디 있을까 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗅𝖺𝗇𝖽?

[azsazz]

Lips of an Angel (Part 4)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the song ‘Lips of an Angel’ by Hinder. Azriel left you for Elain. After finding out that he has a child he didn’t know about, he’s furious.

**Daddy!Az AU**

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,805

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

_________________________________________

The glass in his hand is empty again, the bottle next to it too. 

Azriel sits at his desk, thinking about everything that has led up to this very moment: nursing the wounds he’d amassed from Rhysand as well as the full liquor bottle that he kept hidden in the bottom drawer of his desk in a secret compartment where Elain would never notice.

His left eye is swollen shut and throbbing. Bruises and cuts litter his body from the brawl he’d had with his High Lord in his office only an hour ago, over his ex and the fact that she’d had a child and never told him about.

The High Lord still packs a pretty good punch, he thinks as he shifts to pull open another drawer. His entire body aches with each movement but the alcohol has made it a touch easier. He’s burned through most of the bottle with his anger, but he could’ve sworn he had shoved another bottle in there somewhere.

Elain hasn’t arrived yet and he hopes that she doesn’t. Hopes that she doesn’t walk into his home with her striking smile and eager aura. Right now what he needs is to be alone. Alone with his thoughts, in the dark, silent and nurturing like they were when he was a child and his father trapped him in the dungeons.

The age his child is now. Wren. His chest aches an insurmountable amount when he thinks of the child, so much like him despite having never met. Eyes so strikingly similar to his own that Azriel knows you think about him everytime you look at your son. With tiny wings to match and the most stoic face he’s ever seen on a child, there was no doubting that Wren was his.

But you hadn’t even denied it when he asked, couldn’t, and that made him all the more angry at himself. That he had pushed you so far away from him, had hurt you so badly that you didn’t even tell him he had a child? That you had gone so far as to tell the High Lord and the rest of his family but not him?

“I deserved to know about my child,” he screamed into Rhysands face. The bellow was followed by a blow to his jaw, his bones reverberating beneath his skin from the force of it. It had been a long time since they’d come to blows like this, not training, but actually fighting. Azriel thinks the last time they’d had a real argument that had led to injuring each other like this was when they were still learning in the camps and Cassian and Rhysand had teased him, pushed him to his brink before accepting him into their found family.

“And you could have,” Rhys spits back, the utter fury in his voice shaking the paintings on the walls. The High Lord’s power had unleashed then, slamming Azriel back into the wall. His head crashed into the plaster with a harsh thunk and when he blinked the spots from his vision Rhysand was already pouncing towards him, ringed-fist raised. “We all put it together before you ever made a move on Elain. The signs were right there! Think about it! They were right in front of your fucking face and you didn’t even care.”

“Gods,” Azriel groans. He’s been leaning over his chair for far too long and the broken rib his brother had given him makes it hard to breathe.

But Rhysand had been right, all of the signs were there, he was just too infatuated with finding a mate that he overlooked them.

When you’d started having dizzy spells and he’d passed it off as you not drinking enough water, or when you’d told him you missed your cycle, he remembers that like it was yesterday and curses himself for being so dimwitted. 

All of the times you’d tried to cuddle up to him or kissed him just the way he liked but he still pushed you away because it had felt wrong to kiss you back when Elain was standing right over there. He was so busy chasing after Feyre’s middle sister that he didn’t notice your scent shifting, thinking you were coming down with a sickness that would keep you in bed for a day or two so he could have some time with Elain and didn’t have to worry about you finding out.

It was all right fucking there, and he hadn’t been able to see it.

Even when he’d come home to find you sitting in the guest room one night. The door had been cracked open and you’d been sitting on the edge of the bed looking around the room with a look on your face he hadn’t even cared to decipher, but he remembers it now. It was awe, excitement as you clutched your belly, probably thinking to yourself how exciting it was going to be to decorate a room for the babe growing in your belly. But all Azriel had done was pass it off as you starting to realize the distance he was forcing between the both of you and maybe you had decided to sleep in there that night instead of the room you shared.

There is no denying that he’s fucked up. Fucked up to the point of never finding love again. He realizes in this moment how badly he’s treated you, treated the little boy that dons his face and doesn’t even know him. Wren already thinks that Malik is his father, and with the way that the fae male looks Azriel can’t blame him. While you clearly had a type, your current boyfriend doesn’t seem to be as broody or cruel to you as he’d been.

Azriel sighs, saddened by the lack of alcohol he’s hidden in his desk, and sits in self-pity instead.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Azriel wipes his hands on his pants because truly, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing.

Sitting across the table from you, Malik, and Rhysand was not something he’d ever thought he’d be doing. Let alone being in the same room as you again.

And fuck, you’re as gorgeous as he remembers, even with the guarded way you’re sitting, arms crossed over your chest and your mouth set into a firm line as you stare him down like it’s not fucking burning you up to see him as much as it is for him to see you. 

Rhysand looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. They’ve both healed up due to the nature of their fae healing, but his brother’s glare makes Azriel want to allow the shadows curling around his ankles to shroud him behind their blackness.

And Malik. Malik is here, with his arm around the back of your chair. He’s slid his own closer to yours for comfort, and even the cheerful male he’d seen with his son doesn’t seem so joyful right now. His straight brows are drawn and he keeps glancing over at you in concern. 

Azriel can’t even find it in himself to hate the male. The one who’s taken care of you, of his son all of these years he’d been so oblivious. He wants to hate him with the fires of a thousand autumn fires, but, after the way that he’s treated you, he can’t help but to feel a little bit grateful for the male.

Wren hadn’t joined you, of course not. Feyre had taken him and Nyx down into the Rainbow for an afternoon art class followed by the most ice cream they could even imagine. Normally, you wouldn’t allow Wren so many sweets, but he’s been more than stressed lately with the information of seeing his birth father, and you’ve been trying to help him work through his own feelings on the matter.

Feyre even helped place Wren into an art therapy course with one of her good friends. Everett owns the studio next door and you’ve heard nothing but the best about the therapist. She’s been a light in Wren’s life as of late, and he seems to be responding well to the therapy. So well that he’s mentioned he might be open to meeting Azriel one day.

Today is not that day.

He doesn’t know what to say. His throat is clogged with years worth of emotions. Azriel prides himself on his cool, calm exterior, but right now, there’s none of that front on display. His palms are slick with sweat, leg jerking up and down to try and dispel some of the anxiety wracking his body. It’s no use at all.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” he starts, and it’s more than a little awkward. He watches you and Rhysand share a glance and deflates in his chair. He’s more than a fucking prick.

“I’m not doing it for you,” you start, and he’s never heard your voice so cold. “I’m doing this for Wren.”

Azriel looks up at the sound of his son’s voice. There’s a hopeful note in his golden eyes that you don’t want to diminish, even if there’s still a sting as you’re reminded when his eyes had lit up like that at the sight of you. Your hands fall from where they’re crossed across your chest as the dread settles in, and you can’t seem to fight the tingling of your sinuses. You don’t love him anymore, but seeing him so often after years spent apart brings the feelings of everything he had done right back. 

Sensing your shifting emotions, Malik drops his hand from the back of your chair to your lap, threading his fingers through yours. Azriel’s shadows relay the way that you cling to his hand tightly, and he shifts in his seat.

He watches the way that your eyes go glossy, unfocusing from his and he knows that Rhysand is speaking to you, mind-to-mind. Azriel is sure that his brother is doing his best to reassure you, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. It should have been him reassuring you. It should have been him by your side all of this time.

Just the thought of Elain pains him. Everything that he has fucking done to you because he thought that he wanted her plays over and over and over again in his head. He will never forgive himself for any of this, but the road to making things up to you, up to his son, starts now.

Rhysand takes the reins of the conversation, and Azriel doesn’t like the way that he’s looking at him like any one of his courtiers, hands folded together as they sit on the table. 

He’s even wearing his crown.

“Wren has decided that he wants to meet you. Properly, this time.”

The floor falls out from under Azriel’s chair.

[amaliasdiary]

Feeling like an angel is always an option 🎀🕯️

[jasmineneroli]

୨୧ Selkie ୨୧

[z0mbi3girl]

𝓝𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓴𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮💖

[tmblrfuckingsucksass]

Angelina Polikarpova

❤️‍🔥🥵💓

[hotwaterandmilk]

Series: Angel Lip Artist: Arai Kiyoko Publication: Ciao Magazine (01/1997) Source: Scanned from my personal collection

[mon-petit-coeur-noir]

[kristina-del-rey]

𝒫𝒾𝓃𝓀🎀

[aquiyaceunpajaro]

I love decorating tiny, useless things.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Lips of an Angel: Chaggie

Charlie: (flops face first onto the bar) UuuUUUuuUgGgGgggHh!!!

♦️Husker♣️: (mixes a Shirley Temple and slides the glass over to Charlie)

Charlie: (hand makes random grabby motions until she finds the drink and practically rips it off the counter so she can suck on the straw childishly)

Angel: What's got your panties in a twist?

Charlie: Thank you for not saying taco.

Angel: (shrugs) Meh. It's only funny to say that around Vags. But, seriously, what's with the theatrics?

Charlie: (whining groan) It's my and Vaggie's anniversary and I wanted to make it special by writing a song to sing to her, but I've been working on this for WEEKS and I can't think of anything!

♦️Husker♣️: (wide-eyed blink) Oh. Shit.

Angel: (sprays his drink all over the bar while coughing) Holy Fuck Biscuits, Charlie!!!

Cherry 🍒: I don't get it. What's the problem?

Charlie: (wails) Of all the things I can sing about, I should be able to write a full symphony about my own girlfriend!

Cherry 🍒: So? You literally had to worry about an Extermination-slash-war with Heaven and rebuilding the hotel. Just go online and find a song that matches how you feel.

Charlie: Isn't that a bit of a cop-out?

Cherry 🍒: Pshh! Hardly. (Pulls out her phone and pulls up a list of songs before tossing the device to Charlie) Here. Knock yourself out.

Charlie: Okay, if it's not really a cop-out, then I guess I can take a look. (Scrolls through the list before gasping with sparkles in her eyes) This one! This one's perfect!

Angel: What's that?

Charlie: Lips of an Angel! It's perfect! It covers Vaggie's angelic traits and how.... What's so funny?

♦️Husker♣️: (turning his back to the bar to hid his giggles by pretending to take inventory)

Angel: (snickering) I don't think that song means what you think it does, Toots.

Charlie: (cocks an eyebrow) What do you mean? (Reads from the lyrics while singing) 🎶"It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name. It sounds so sweet. Coming from the lips of an angel, hearing those words it makes me weak." 🎶

Cherry 🍒: (tamping down her snickers) I think what Angel's trying to say is that this is more of a rock ballad, not a cutsey musical. Not exactly something you tend to sing, babe.

Charlie: Oh... (kicked puppy face)

Cherry 🍒: (under her breath) Fucking Hell, how do you guys deal with this girl?

Angel & ♦️Husker♣️: (shrug)

Cherry 🍒: (sighs) Buuuuut, I think Vaggie might be into it. She seems like the type to like a good rock song about love.

Charlie: (eyes sparkling) Really?! You think so?!

Cherry 🍒: Uh... Yeah... But we're gonna have to change your outfit to match. You can't look like a 1930s businessman while singing rock, girlie.

Charlie: (blinks and stares at her suit) But... I don't know how to dress "rock".

Cherry 🍒: Oh, for fuck's sakes... Come on. (Grabs Charlie's arm and drags her away) I'm gonna get you punked out.

Charlie: *gasp* Yaaaaaaay!!!!

[iwantyoutolovemefionapple]

These lipglosses are everything <3