Broken Aesthetic Novels & Stories

He was expelled from his convent, cast out, left to fend for himself in a world that doesn’t forgive magical mistakes. He ended up homeless. Addicted. Lost. Maybe that’s why we get along — two broken people orbiting each other because no one else wants to get close. He’s tall, muscular, dark‑haired, green‑eyed — the kind of man people mistake for a wolf until they feel the hum of magic under his skin. He’s not a friend, not exactly, but he’s the closest thing I have to one. When my scent started slipping through the cracks of my control, he helped me create a masking spray. He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t push. He just helped.

I winced, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as she tugged on my hair seemingly as hard as she could. “Beauty is pain,” she retorted coldly. “Hold still.” When she was finished, I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me. Beauty is pain, she had said, but I looked anything but. The severe hairstyle accentuated every line and crease on my face, and the shapeless clothes made me look like I was ten years older. “Perfect,” Grace said with a satisfied smirk. “Now you look somewhat presentable.” There was no way she didn’t realize how bad I looked. But maybe she enjoyed seeing me like that.

Impatiently, he kicked the hospital bed and snapped, "Stop pretending. It's just a little anesthetic. Do you need to sleep for so long? Get up. I made you get cosmetic surgery for your own good. Don't act like it's such a huge grievance." Of course, I couldn't answer him. I was dead. Livid, James lifted the sheet and kicked me off the bed and to the ground. "Stop playing dead! Have you learned your lesson or not?" The sheet covering me fell to the ground as well, revealing my ashen face. It wasn't a complexion that a living human could have. I hadn't had the chance to heal after the cosmetic surgery, so my face was still swollen and ruddy. James frowned when he saw me. "You're still so ugly.

Becca complained, turning my face sideways as she tried to blend the powder and foundation on the right side of my cheeks. "Well, at least, I'd get a reason with wipe off this hideous thing from my face," I spat in disgust and Becca frowned, not pleased. "It hurts my feelings that you're calling my creative handwork hideous when I'm trying so hard to make you look like the beautiful damsel that you ought to look like today." I sighed, breathing out, exasperated. Now that she said it, my words seemed to have a whole different meaning. "Your creativity itself isn't bad but on my face it is. My face isn't one for a make over which is why your awesome creativity and beauty piece on my face is hi

, she sighs and hold both hands. "She never got to get her revenge, she was hurt. Beatrice broke her, you never reciprocated her love, her ex fiance left her at the altar, life has been unfair to her. She is not as strong as the Vahemirs, she is stucked with a lame gift- evil premonition. She is bound to get distracted. I don't know if you know this, she parties because the music helps her drown the voices of others in her head. That's the only reason I let her go out, even though she thinks she is sneaking out. Please Aiden be patient with her. I know you both don't see eye to eye now. But I promise you, she is an angel. You can change her, behind that hate, is a broken heart. Behind that b

Patrick complains as the photographer is about to take Luna's picture. "What's wrong with my cheeks?" Luna mumbles, touching both sides of her face. Patrick then approaches Luna and brushes her cheeks with a makeup brush. "I think earlier I applied peach blush, why did it turn red?" Patrick mutters while trying to eliminate the red tint on both sides of Luna's face. No matter how hard Patrick tries, the redness doesn't seem to fade. Luna clears her throat in embarrassment and brushes Patrick's hand away. "Enough, just leave it, it will disappear eventually," Luna responds casually, causing Patrick to look at her with a puzzled expression. Luna, on the other hand, struggles to suppress her sm

I checked myself in the mirror. I looked beautiful. The black long dress my mother bought me was hugging me perfectly. It wasn't anything fancy. It was elegant and classy. It was perfect. To make it more beautiful my mom applied me red lipstick. Don't mind me but my mother did my makeup. It was after all a business party we were going to. I couldn't risk doing makeup on my own and messing things up. Or in this case, mess my face up.

Besides, she thought once he saw how flattering it was, not to mention easier to care for, he would change his mind. As soon as he came back, Abubakar started to frown. “Looks like you’ve been busy today.” His fingers were tight on the black nylon bag he was carrying. “Do you like it? It feels great.” she shook her head from side to side like a hair model. “It was about time I had a good, healthy hairstyle.” “That’s not a trim. Most of your hair is gone.” Every word was edged with disapproval and disappointment. “I was tired of my dull look. I think this is more polished.”

If the Council decides to punish me for it, so be it. The decision is thoroughly liberating. I place the wicker basket on my pallet and center my breath. Repairing the wall is a piece of cake. The trick to beautifying anything, be it a dirty room, a dilapidated structure, or just about anything that’s broken, is to get the building blocks in alignment. All I do with my magic is to arrange the basic building blocks the way they are meant to be arranged. Beauty lies in symmetry, or so my tutor always told me.