Slanted Hairline Novels & Stories

Nakakindat nitong pagkakasabi sa kanya sa harap ng salamin. Hindi na nga siya kumibo at nanghihinayang nalang niyang tinitigan ang two inches niyang buhok na ibinawas nito sa kanya. After cutting her hair ay sinabi nitong gagawin iyong curly to wavy hair. Kung saan mas bagay sa kanya ang aura. Kinulayan rin nito iyon nang hindi niya alam kung anong klaseng kulay.

I had finally abandoned my winter foundation last week and stashed it back in the drawer. As I prepare, I play some soft music and meticulously straighten each section of my hair, aiming for a sleek look. Then, I gather the front strands and tuck them back under my hairline to create the illusion of slicked-back hair. A touch of light makeup enhances my features and reduces my pale appearance.

Sal’s problem right now was he couldn’t get her image from his head long enough to form a solid plan. Ashley didn’t take long at all. But her hair was impressive. It was a mass of ringlets. “Why do you straighten your hair?” “It becomes a tangled mess as soon as I step out of the bathroom. My hair is hard to work with otherwise.” “Well, get used to it. Learn to deal with it as is. We won’t always have time to play with our appearance.” Sal wasn’t saying the full trust. He liked her hair down and curly. It worked with her features better.

Gale's hair was pulled up, and a few strands of hair hung down, revealing her slender neck, with a white clip pinned to the back of her head. The gown framed her figure perfectly.

Miranda gave me a wry smile. Now I wanted to cry... and kill those bastards! My long hair was one of the features I was proud of, and I was going to have a bald spot in the middle?! Suddenly, the destroyed wedding and the wedding gown lost their importance. "H-how big is it?" I asked and held my breath. "Less than two inches needed shaving. Don't worry too much. It's a straight line spot, so it will be easy to cover with other hair until it grows back," she assured.

[Rosalynd] Slone is standing above us, or at least I think it is her. She looks nothing like herself. Where once she had gently waving brown hair, the straight white bob is unnaturally white, almost silver. Her skin glows like it has been freshly polished, perfectly tanned, and massaged with sweet almond oil. As the mist shrouding her body reforms into a chic black pantsuit, which she is wearing while topless, the front of the jacket reveals cleavage down to the belly button. On her feet are a pair of heels that would be impossible to run with, but something about how the lightning crackles at her fingertips tells me that she isn't going to do much running.

Her physical features were a study in subtle elegance, creating an impression of quiet strength and kindness. Clara's hair, the color of chestnuts kissed by sunlight, fell in soft waves around her shoulders. The strands glimmered with natural highlights, catching the light as she moved. She often tied her hair back in a loose ponytail, allowing a few tendrils to frame her face delicately.

“Headaches, neck pain, all this… hair ritual?” Rosie laughed, “Oh, no. Aristocratic women don’t have hair like yours in the first place. Peasant-born girls like us get thick curls, a wild mane, texture with personality. The blue-blooded women? They’re selected through generations of arranged marriages and beauty standards so strict they basically bred themselves into having identical fine, straight strands. No waves, no curls, no texture. It’s their pride. Their beautiful thin, silk-like hair that tangles if you breathe too strongly near it.” I blinked. “Is that actually a sign of nobility?”

Her hair falling into her face, the silver strands spilling across her face and I noticed they were softly illuminated. Cautiously I reached for them, noticing their texture was different than the rest of her hair. The single strands almost felt as if they were encased in resin, the slick smoothness of the in contrast to her slightly coarse strands. They fell through and around my fingers like water, as if they were a living thing welcoming my touch. I brought them to my nose and sniffed, no difference, they still smelled like her shampoo. Up close I could see that they were softly lit up from the inside, glowing with something akin to bioluminescence. Sloane shifted in her sleep again, her