Profile Pictures Aesthetic Novels & Stories

I braced for a news link, a police report, a photo of a wrecked car. What loaded was a gallery of Olek. Shirtless. Dozens of pictures. Gym mirror selfies, bathroom selfies, pictures where he was flexing so hard his veins looked ready to pop. His pants were slung low on his hips in every single one. I stared, my brain short-circuiting. "Olivia," I said, the sweet tone straining at the edges. "What the fuck is this?" "I am making a profile on a dating site. A premium one. For wealthy American women who appreciate a real man. I cannot decide which photo makes me look most… approachable, yet dominant. You are a woman. You will know."

She's already reached this far so why turn back now? She quickly searches the room with her eyes as if she's doing something illegal before clicking the profile. His page pops up and Elizabeth's heart skips a beat when she instantly sees his page. He has over 1 million followers just like Elizabeth and over 500 pictures that are posted. Josephine scrolls through his pictures and she is amazed when she acknowledges his photography. He has a signature way of presenting his work. He has his aesthetic. It's dark, elegant, and welcoming. It captures your attention and draws you in manipulating you as if you are the one who is in the picture instead of the model. The further Josephine scrolls the

The people of South City had grown extremely familiar with her face that it was Sabrina. The second photo was taken from a different angle immediately after. The man’s side profile could be seen this time. The side profile could not be described as beautiful. ‘Beautiful’ mainly was used to describe women, while the man’s side profile was sharp and angular. If it were slightly more angular, it would be too much, but any less, and it would not be so perfect. The sharp angle of his features showed character and made him look steadfast and resolute. His side profile looked perfect together with the slight stubble that showed his mature masculinity as if sculptured by the hands of a master sculpt

We were tucked away in a corner where the only other patrons were high-end art dealers who were too busy with their commissions to notice the woman with the bloodshot eyes and the shaking hands. I looked down at the screen. It was a social media profile of a woman—vibrant, bold, and undeniably younger. Her feed was a curated mess of neon lights, expensive cocktails, and a face that was the definition of modern beauty. And there, in every second photo, were her lips. Painted in that exact, sickeningly sweet shade: Soft Nude Pink.

but I didn't want to get my hopes up. My own profile had a picture of me shirtless and showing half of my face, with a couple of small moles next to my eyebrow that guys might be able to use as an identifier. It hadn't worked yet, but I left that as my main picture just in case it could happen someday.

Dae did the same for the older, combing his hair with his fingers, making it look as pretty as possible. Both of them then looked back at their image created on the phone screen. It wasn't actually a very beautiful image. Both of them looked sleepy and their hair was still dishevelled. But the image had certain beauty. It had a touch of reality. It had love, trust and honesty in it. Dae widened his smile a bit more. Aroon also leaned in a beautiful smile and snapped a pic. The boys sat looking at the pic for a minute. " Do it.", Dae finally said. Aroon nodded and clicked the share option, then touched on the Instagram icon that appeared.

Even her age is at 30’s now, still she looks beautiful. She looks younger than her age. But Atif still didn’t see the real face or appearance of Aliyah for all her photos in her social media accounts are fake; if there are some real photos, she chooses to upload the ugly photos she have or the images which unclear. On the other hand, the photos of Atif on his social media accounts are real. What will happen next to their friendship is just a piece of a puzzle for destiny is out of control. Will Atif keep his promised?

Public account, what a whore. The profile picture is different from the one she’d seen yesterday. This one captures Moni smiling openly at the camera, about as beautiful as always, but looking to be inside a club, a glass in her hand. Name is Moni. I love dogs, yoga, chocolate and travelling!!!, the description says, followed by a bunch of sunny emojis. Moni is the childish type when it comes to his virtual life, then. She has 852 followers, which speaks of an affluent social life. So do her photos. Moni seems like an i* maniac, with posts of landscapes, her dog – and of course, herself.

Next to Jack's picture were tiny portraits of her, Catherine, and Ben Carter, their resolution pitifully low. “That’s outrageous!” Hailey screamed, her voice cracking with grievance. “Me! Hailey Sterling! The financial tycoon of Wall Street! The future fashion icon! Am I only worth this tiny little block of paper?!” She grabbed a (surviving) cushion and slammed it to the ground, as if it were her enemy. “And! Why did they photograph me like a just-woke-up otter?! Where’s my highlight?! Where’s my jawline?! Don’t these terrorists have any basic aesthetic sense?!”

I couldn't stop it. ME: whatever.. you ain't getting boobs of this clingy person.. Then I went through my gallery.. pictures of her and I pitched and I felt like crying. I was so taken by a kid younger than me. I smiled at a picture that I took while she was eating on the couch before she left. She had on her black and yellow bandana, a black tank top and black shorts. She was facing away so I got half of her face. She looked hot as fuck. I quickly put that picture as my w******p profile picture and then logged out.