Aesthetic 123 Novels & Stories

Heat rose to her neck. “I meant creatively,” she said quickly. “Surviving creative burnout.” A tense silence followed. The kind designed to make people unravel. The man on the right flipped through her portfolio. “Your aesthetic is darker than we’re used to. But compelling. There’s a sense of edge… control.” “I think luxury is about tension,” Aria said. “Desire without safety. Wanting what you shouldn’t have.” The woman narrowed her eyes, but didn’t disagree. “Mr. Vale will want to approve any final shortlist,” she said.

Aesthetic's POV: “ I see… “ I murmured while looking at Spade's cold eyes then gulped many times to settle this uncomfortable feeling. “ I’m Aesthetic, but you can all call me Thea. “ I stated while wearing a fake smile on my face. How can I even smile if I know that I was sorrounded by these non-human creatures? They're all gorgeous but the fact that they have some hidden fangs inside their mouths make me wanna run away from here.

Lumen generated a new internal diagnostic: The Aesthetics of Endurance. It realized that beauty, in the colony model, was a function of survival. An object was beautiful not because it was new, but because it had been repaired with intent. The machine began to adjust the "Citywide Aesthetic Protocol" to favor visible repairs over seamless replacements.

"Sir, is this clause okay? It looks a little confusing." Alicia pointed at the document. Axel approached her to check and immediately smelled a sweet scent; it was his secretary's perfume. Alicia waited for Axel's response, but since she didn't hear it, she turned to look at him, and there they were, staring into each other's eyes, inches from their mouths. Neither of them lowered their gaze; neither said anything, just stared at each other. It was the first time they had been able to hold each other's gaze. "Come in."

I somehow get a shape that resembles a head. But does it resemble Abe's? No. "Why is there even such a thing as art?" I ask with a frustrated sigh. "To express beauty," replies Dane. "Beauty. A word meaning to convey the coincidental encounter of a spectacle that is somewhat enticing, mesmerizing, or delightful to look at or view. A circuitous concept. Inconsistent. Subjective. Unstandardized. Incohesive," I say as I turn to look Dane in the eye. He raises an eyebrow and smirks slightly.

“The North is barren. How exactly are you going to draw the interests of people?” “Aesthetics.” “And how exactly is that going to work?” “The same way every capital city works. If you make something beautiful, people are not going to worry about if it is fundamentally functional.” “Is that why you invited Lady Borisque from Ducroft even though people would know you’re still alive?”

He had a penthouse suite, which I wasn't surprised by. When we got in, he excused himself to go and change and then told me where I could get some wine and where the glasses were. The penthouse was gorgeous. It had some inviting warm colours like velvets and whites and oranges. It was very tastefully curated. Probably done by a designer. Nobody had recognized when we were out because he was wearing a cap and had the hood on most of the time.

“What are you thinking for the stormy aesthetic?” Harper asked curiously, holding up the deep winter swatches which include the colours: midnight, olive, expresso, silver, grey, charcoal, mocha, wine, brick red, ruby, Boysen berry, fuschia, magenta, mustard, honey, Ocea, dark green, forest, jungle, royal purple, mulberry, purple, royal blue, Aegean, and ceru lean. Knox snatched the swatches from her hand, spreading them across the desk like he was dealing a winning hand in a high-stakes game. His parrot green eyes darted over then, his lips moving silently as he processed each colour. “Stormy aesthetic,” he repeated, tasting the words. "Aye, it's got tae feel heavy. Atmospheric. No' just dar

I asked. He squinted at my wheel, head tilted. “Why your work so ugly?” Aurora made a choking sound as she tried and failed to cover her laugh. I placed a hand over my heart. “First of all,” I said gravely, “my work is not ugly. You just don’t have the artistic eyes to see how good it is.” Alex frowned, confusion written on his face.“What’s atistic eyes?” “It’s seeing beyond what’s there,” I told him smoothly. “Understanding the soul of the art.”

While some bold ones were actually sleeping. Rabbit, however, looked one blink away from collapsing face-first onto his desk. Noah’s eyes narrowed slightly. “…and Wilde uses aestheticism not merely as philosophy,” he continued evenly, voice smooth as he resumed pacing slowly across the front of the room, “but as a shield. Dorian’s obsession with beauty becomes an excuse to separate himself from consequence.” Rabbit’s head dipped again. This time lower. A strand of white hair slipped across his face as he blinked heavily. His pink eyes were surrounded by a sea of pale red.