Aesthetic Novels & Stories

And if there’s one thing they all had in common, it was that they were beautiful. But… He’s worse. He’s too beautiful. The kind of beauty that doesn’t just get admired it destabilizes things. Fae beauty isn’t normal beauty. It’s not soft or human or even truly consistent. It shifts depending on perception, like your mind can’t decide what it’s looking at. One moment it’s sharp and cruel, the next it’s almost tender, like it’s been tailored specifically to whatever weakness you didn’t know you had. They say faes aren’t just born beautiful but that they’re crafted by magic itself. Curated by old laws, by courts that care more about aesthetic balance than moralit

He was older, always wore the same tweed jacket, and spoke with the kind of voice that made you listen without realizing you were paying attention. This wasn’t a core class. It was an elective—“Brand Aesthetics and Identity.” Half marketing, half art theory. I chose it because it sounded pretty. And because it had nothing to do with balance sheets and supply chains. I leaned forward slightly, my chin resting on my hand as he spoke. His words floated across the room like something soft and sharp at the same time. He talked about beauty—not just in the classic sense, but the kind that made you feel something. The kind that wasn’t always clean or pure or polite.

I drew it honestly, which was harder and less immediately beautiful and significantly more accurate. When I was done I looked at it for a long time and understood something about drawing that I had not understood before. That accuracy and aesthetics were not the same thing. That the most beautiful rendering was not always the most truthful one. That truth had its own aesthetic if you were willing to look for it.

I had been watching him from the stage all night. Out of the crowd that was hyped for my show he was the only one who seemed disinterested and I couldnt help but zone in on him and his table. I finished up my routine and they all cheered like any other night. There was something about being on stage and being objectified that I hated. This wasn't the life I had planned for myself. I just wanted to be a model but I couldn't afford the aesthetic. The more time i spent performing the more i wondered whether i would ever

Iniingatan ko talagang hindi masira ang hitsura nito at pinagiisipan ko ang bawat posts ko. Ah, aestheticism! I live for it, religiously. And I am forever grateful cause I have all the privilege to be able to live this life. Nakangiti kong muling pinasadahan ng tingin ang sarili mula sa floor to ceiling na salamin. Nang mapansin ko ang isang pirasong buhok na nakatikwas ay hinuli ko iyon at inis na binunot. Mahina akong napaigik. Well, it’s called tiis ganda. In order to achieve something, a sacrifice is needed.

I look at her bare face and I am quiet encouraged by just how beautiful she is without make-up, my hands are still around her waist, and oh what joy I feel as I look at her, I have to be real with myself though, she’s one of the best thing that has ever happened to me. I begin rubbing her waist, drawing circles and just trying to store everything into my memory space. Because each time I look at her there’s this feeling that rises up inside of me, like a part of me comes alive, I know it’s not love, but I won’t be surprised if it becomes that.

“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?”

“I am a function of aesthetic efficiency. Your territory has become a noisy subplot. I am here to quiet it down. To make it… readable.” It gestured with its stylus. From its book, a beam of flat, white light shot out and touched our cottage wall. Where it touched, the texture of the wood—the grain, the knots, the subtle variations in color—smoothed out into a featureless, beige plane. It wasn't erased; it was genericized. This was the worst invasion yet. They weren't trying to destroy or control. They were trying to make us boring. “Over my dead, highly specific body,” I snarled, lightning crackling at my fingertips.

Her newfound boldness surprised even herself. "Do you think women were the focus of men's concerns back then?" Taehyung addressed his wife with sardonic amusement. Minnie glared at him. "It's the truth," she insisted. Brody set down his glass to finally join the conversation. "The Greeks valued aesthetics over function." He clarified with surprising depth. "They prioritized visual appeal over practical considerations. It's like a beautiful face hiding an ugly personality. The eye's judgment of beauty overruled the mind's assessment."

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.