Damon Albarn Haircut Novels & Stories

Over his Jeep's hood, he waved to Dana, the self-proclaimed avant-garde hair stylist who ran the salon two doors down from the museum, who stood in the salon’s rear door, smoking. Exhaling a narrow plume of blue-gray smoke, Dana flicked the ash from her cigarette. “Morning, Jimmy. You’re looking sharp today.” She laughed, a hacking, hoarse sound, gesturing to his body-hugging biking attire. “When you gonna let me cut your hair?” Jim grimaced at thehorrifying thought, unconsciously running his hand over his neat, cesear crop. This week, Dana’s hair was colored hot pink, styled in a spiky, wild cloud about her head, but you never knew from one day to the next what you'd find with Dana.

Her face warmed at the thought he had already been on his way to see her. “Don't tell me you were just teasing me?” he said, humor in every word. "I look awful right now," she mumbled, her voice muffled by her hands. "They cut off so much of my hair. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?" Damien’s fingers gently tipped her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You could never look ugly to me," he said softly, his eyes scanning her face with a look of tenderness that made her breath catch. He ran his hand over her uneven hair, a result of the doctors needing to shave part of it to treat her wound. "It doesn’t matter if they had to shave all your hair off; you’d still be the most beautiful

I had no idea what to feel after knowing that Damien had been planning for this way ahead of time. My stylist had even changed my hair by removing the black dye and bleaching my hair to a beautiful blonde that reached just to my shoulders. I had loved my black and red hair, especially since it had been a reminder of Damien in my life when we had been apart. But now, I had no use of it since he was with me.

I would be the perfect example of a fool for love. Damon was still asleep. He looked so impossibly handsome with his face not set in its usual invisible scowl. He wasn’t clenching his jaw, or furrowing his brows…I silently prayed he’d have no reason to do those anymore. Carefully, as if afraid to wake him, I lifted my hand and brushed the strands of hair that had fallen across his face. When last did he even get a haircut?

Damien. Ingrid nodded and then she left me alone with a courteous smile. Looking at myself in the mirror on the wall, I ran my fingers through my dark brown hair. During the first day of the military training, one of my superiors advised me to cut my hair short so I had cut it in a short pixie hairstyle. My hair had grown since then and it was now tailored in a messy chin-length bob hairstyle.

I just had to make sure I could conceal a little white lie the next day. ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞ I kept my face expressionless as my hair was being blow-dried and only looked at the mirror. Danielle on the other hand looked happier than usual, she had planned to get a new hair color but decided to dye her hair back to its normal color, a darker shade of brown. Unlike Taylor's hair that was a light brown. Danielle's hair was darker and made her look gorgeous. She had been going on and on about why she had decided to cut her hair and how it worked out perfectly though she missed her long hair. Danny's and my hair was almost the same length after I got it trimmed except that my hair reached my shoulders while

Maybe I should consider getting a haircut after the challenge to make sure I look my best for Selene during the mating ceremony? 'Yes, that would also be a great way to stand out and differentiate ourselves from Damon .' Alaric responded to me curtly though mind link, I scoffed at his statement. Don't get me wrong, he was right about looking different and all but it was his fur that was responsible for my overgrown long hair because it grew out my hair faster than I could blink. I ran my hands through my overgrown beard and immediately decided to trim it with a pair of scissors that were in the bathroom drawer.

I breathed, taking in the sight of the invisible battle behind the walls of the skyscraper before me. Damon came out of the car from the other side. Dressed in a white shirt, a black jacket and a long overcoat. His hair was slicked back with an effortless wave and his jaw was shape into a strong square. The gold in his eyes burned brighter and he looked more of a gentleman than a man who would sign a stranger into a marriage.

Dillon shouted back. He grabbed a black thermal and grey sweatpants from the dresser. As he threw the shirt on, he walked to the clean clothes basket and picked a pair of blue plaid boxers(his favourite. So soft!). Then he slipped on a pair of black ankle socks and adjusted himself in the dresser mirror. Finally, he combed his hair back and to the side and with a bit of hair putty on his fingers, he lightly pronounced the wave in the front. A very mild variant of the classic pompadour. Call him Elvis. Dillon liked it. It was how many bikers(Tony included) did their hair, the idiot ones that don't wear helmets anyway. Dillon sauntered out to the living room, where Tony relaxed on the couch wi

Damon hasn’t changed, not really. His dark hair is shorter now, no longer falling over his eyes the way it used to when I’d push it back just to see him better. His face is sharper, all hard angles and a scar now slices down his temple, a thin jagged line against golden-brown skin. His jaw is stronger, his lips pressed into that same unreadable line, but it’s his eyes that strike me the most. Dark, piercing, and knowing. All features that had been touched by the trials of time. So different yet still the same.