Aesthetic Icon Novels & Stories

To scoopout some more island recipe from the greying whole, the interface of muted shreds and bits, is,after boyfriends and girlfriends fail to acknowledge sublime art suspended in street after howling street, the swirling sociology of tropical malaise. The Ice Cream Man with [his] underrated purposiveness of disembodied aesthetics, hops in, emerges, rethinks the condition of language, of signs and symbols that confront the steady disinterestedness toward matcha. What is it that forces taste to be critically sabotaged by teleology? Yet what is being promised by the Coney Island theory is parity premised on subsistence. As if aura, as if this beast of contestation: is the decision to choose i

“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?”

"We can't win a war of definitions. If they define us as 'Data', we disappear. We have to Re-Define them!" "How?" "The Icons are based on Symmetry! They are perfect because they have no history and no scars! We have to 'Infect' them with the Variable of Time!" I looked at Lyra and Caelum. They were standing at the edge of the pier, their tiny forms already starting to look like stylized, stained-glass versions of children. They weren't afraid. They were looking at the Icons with a look of profound, royal curiosity. "They're too perfect, Mama," Lyra said, her voice a melodic, silver chime.

As I walk past the streets of New York, people are either closing their noses or making weird sounds on reference to the pungent smell coming off of me, don’t mind me though, I’m definitely not proud of the fact that I stink. “can’t he have a bath or something?” asks one passerby lady, “yeah he sure does stink, and his hair, is almost lifeless” replies her accomplice. My almost bony legs begin leading me to my solace as usual. I find myself standing in front of the skyscraper, in front of the modelling building that I so much love. “MacPherson’s” it’s a cosmetic building with lots of high paid models in it, their cosmetics is like one of the bests.

An ideal world where no competition is allowed, only a crowd, which despite being exhausted, is relentless when it comes to one day reaching the standards of beauty that belong to them. That is why, tonight, I choose to challenge everything he believes in by clinging to the theory that yes, aesthetic beauty is certainly attractive, but over time, one will need something more to keep the admiration burning like a flame. This may be intelligence, charismas, or a lost soul for those who love to mend one. The pity being that, most of the time, this becomes a rip-off. For when plunging into the depths of another, one may be startled to discover that our pure desire does not match at all with our

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.

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.

“Under those corporate parameters, are there specific stylistic vectors your tongue wants my hand to steer his choices toward?” I seized the tactical opening instantly. “Yes. Absolute confirmation. Nothing that translates to a low-tier mate trap. Zero threads that imply a brainless bimbo aesthetic. My image requires an architecture that registers as highly intelligent, yet entirely sharp. Dominant. Historic. Symmetrical cleavage represents a viable asset, but nothing that evokes the visual data of a primitive breeding den pin-up.” “The metrics are logged. My hands will manipulate what we can behind the veil.”

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.

He would most likely be tired and hungry when he got back. Grayson had informed me that the girl McQueen had been talking about was his “beard” and her name was Selene. I looked her up and found that she was a pretty light skinned girl who had a successful modelling career. They looked good together but i wasn't sure who had come up with this idea and if i really was on board for it. What if she was only pretending to be lesbian so that she could get with him? If I voiced these thoughts would he be pissed or not, it just was all a bit too pretentious for my liking but for now i was going to let it go.