#hence why I chose Angelica

[evren-sadwrn]

i wanted to rant to you about smthhhh

so basically we know that john wicks wife was called helen right? and so basically i found the name kinda odd for some reason because they could've named her anything else with a more prominent meaning or a more obvious meaning so smth like 'faith' hope' or 'angelica or whatever that name is'

but they chose helen. then just from a google search we see that the name means light. but also in the iliad helen is known as 'the face who launched 1000 ships' when she was stolen from her husband causing the deaths of meany soldiers and men.

and i find that really interesting because after helen died it does seems like jw was lost and stuff because his light basically went out. then if we look at the '1000 ships bit' he goes back into a huge war which is what i guess you can call him fighting a shit ton of people and stuff

idk i just found it really interesting that the name that they gave his wife was the name of what was known as 'the most beautiful woman in the world' and 'the face who launched 1000 ships' because she is kinda the reason jw goes back out into 'war' and ive already said this-

good byeeeee :))))

helen wick!!

I know for a FACT that the director(Chad Stahelski) and the writers themselves chose the name “helen” on purpose because of the many references to greek mythology within the first movie(for example: casted alfie allen as iosef who was in game of thrones i think?)

and the fact that helen in the illiad was stolen away and then in turn caused her husband to quite literally commit mass murder just ties in to the fact that helen in john wick is quite literally based right off her(helen illiad)

there’s even references to the fact that helen was john’s hope to keep moving forward which is why(as i mentioned in a prior character study) john wick dies in sunlight which is how helen is symbolized

now that you’ve brung up that helen means light she definitely was john’s light and continues to be his life even past death. the fact that every single flashback to her has her surrounded in light only adds to the fact that she is and was always john’s hope. just like in the illiad, HELEN WICK is the one that sends john into “war”. helen in the illiad was “stolen away” and helen IS just like that however instead of being taken, it’s being taken via an unexplained illness that has been implied to have been looming over her for a very long time by now. and because of her death, she sends in daisy to comfort john(who then dies bc of iosef) and daisy being taken away through dying is helen dying a second time to john— hence the next events about to unfold. and back in the entire john wick movie series, he’s always plunged in darkness. john is basically drowning in shadows and the night over and over again BUT helen isnt. she’s coded in golden yellow and yellow is the opposite of blue which is what john’s coded color is

helen is indeed based of helen in the illiad, because time and time again, john has proven that he will do anything for her and the events of john wick 4 have him dying in front of a church in paris in the sunrise.

to me, that last part feels like a symbol of helen— like she’s waiting for him on the other side.

helen is john’s light, and he is lost. she was the reason that he made it out of the criminal underworld through an impossible task given to him by viggo.

#helen wick #john wick

[noratilney]

For the OC Questions: 1, 2, 3, 14 & 18 for Veronika Lantsov, Abby, and Jasika, please! :-D

Thank you!

VERONIKA

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

I wanted her to be a Lantsov and a tidemaker. The backstory started as a way to explain why she had been absent during the story prior and then grew to add in some connections.

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Yes! I wanted her to look believably related to Nikolai so I looked at blonde fcs. This was before his casting was announced so I was working only with the book description. I had saved Hunter Schafer as a fc I wanted to use and I ended up picking her for Veronika.

How did you choose their name? 

Ravka draws on a lot of Russian names and terminology but doesn’t exactly stick strictly to it. A friend of a friend is named Veronika and she’s Polish-American so I thought it was in keeping with an Eastern European flavor. Also it works to give two different sounding nicknames, “Vera” and “Nika” which suited my purposes since Veronika has to conceal her identity.

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

Veronika very much resents her Grandmother Yulia for keeping her locked up and away from people but she’s also a lot more sheltered than she realizes.

Relatedly, her whole objective is to leave, to escape but the what happens after is not really something she’d worked out which is also why she ends up entangled in the messiness happening in the Little Palace.

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

Well, it turns out that Veronika’s tidemaker powers didn’t just spring out in her from nowhere… ;)

ABBY

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

Definitely backstory first.

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

No, actually. I’m not sure how plausible she and any of her family members are at appearing related but I also don’t care.

I did choose to make her Caroline’s cousin almost immediately after committing to making her a Tyler Lockwood oc though.

Also I wanted her to share Trevino's Latino but passes for white background so that I could incorporate that element into Tyler's character biography and have Abby and Tyler interrogate what that identity means for each of them.

So wait, maybe yes then?

How did you choose their name? 

I've always been fond of the name Abby given one of my childhood best friends was named Abby and as a minor character appreciator, I’ve liked Abby Stevenson from the Babysitter's Club.

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be? 

Oh, fuck is this girl stubborn, oh my god. Like I love it and she shares that with me but also like please stop making your own life harder.

It ties in with the first thing but she also has a very pessimistic outlook on life and is always expecting the shoe to drop. Hence her resistance to romance or making long-term goals.

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

For the longest time, she cannot for the life of her remember Klaus’ name and calls him by a rotating list of C and K names (although not to his face, lmao).

JASIKA

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)?

I started playing with the idea of making a Marcel oc after I got deep into Angelica, my Rebekah oc.

Did you design them with any other characters/OCs from their universe in mind?

Sort of? It depends on what you mean by that.

I knew I wanted Jasika to have some things in common with Marcel, particularly some things that he and Rebekah didn’t.

So I chose to have Jasika be a Black woman and I also made her a half-sister to Hayley.

How did you choose their name? 

This one is very simple. I borrowed it from the voice actress Jasika Nicole.

Ballard was chosen from scanning a list of surnames until I found one I liked.

If you had to narrow it down to 2 things that you MUST keep in mind while working with your OC, what would those things be?

Jasika is very twisted up inside over her whole family history. She’s hated Andrea Labonair and her mother for stealing her dad and being the Crescent Pack’s golden child for years even before she actually met Hayley.

For the record, this is not something Jasika's internalized from her mom. As I started writing this, I remembered how in Magic for Marigold, Marigold develops this intense hatred of her dead father's first wife, Clementine, who she despises for being held up against her mother. Marigold's mother Lorraine isn't bothered by it because she says when she shared her life with Marigold’s dad, they had a mature and loving partnership as opposed to the overly romanticized youthful relationship between him and Clementine. I think subconsciously that influenced this dynamic.

Anyway, it’s a little different here so I wouldn’t say Jasika’s mom has no bitterness or resentment over how Mr. Labonair handled his relationships but she’s also moved on with her life.

Jasika on the other hand is still seething about it and putting a face to her enemy has not changed that.

Marcel is clearly the more emotionally mature of the two of them when it comes to their respective familial mistreatment. He’s actually moved on to some degree.

What is the most recent thing you’ve discovered about your OC?

She went through a goth phase in her teens and still maintains a love of wearing black.

#asked and answered #wordspin-shares #veronika lanstov #abby cardenas #jasika ballard

[sassyshoulderangel319]

The House in the Forest

“Wait. You have a human hostage?” a voice demanded in the other room. I groaned in complaint, stretching my sore neck. Human? Why did the voice say that like they weren’t human? What was going on? Why was I so sore? Where exactly was I and how did I get here?

“Don’t be ridiculous. She’s a guest,” a more familiar voice replied. “She came willingly.”

The first voice said something in another language that probably translated into, “Bull crap.” There was a brief pause. “Humans don’t come to our lairs willingly, Killian. Unless they’re hunters.”

“She’s not.”

“I smell fresh blood. I can tell she’s not. Hunters don’t often get bitten.”

Fresh blood? Guest? Bitten? Came willingly? Were they talking about me?

Why was my head so foggy? Why couldn’t I think straight? What exactly was going on? Huh?

Another brief pause. “She’s awake,” the first voice said.

The familiar voice went, “Huh. So she is,” and then was silent.

“Think she can hear us?”

“Probably.”

“Show me her,” the first voice ordered.

The familiar one laughed heartily. “Oh Auggie. You’re cute if you think you can order me around.”

A door creaked open. There was a moment of silence. Then another creak. I shuffled. I was lying down, that much I was certain of. My hair was sprawled out on several silk pillows.

“I’m guessing the silk nightgown didn’t belong to her originally.”

“Of course not. But I’m a generous host.”

“Sure you are.”

The door closed, but I could still hear talking.

“She smells like a hunter, but she’s not one,” the first voice, Auggie?, remarked.

The second voice, Killian?, chuckled. “I think she’s a Van Helsing descendent.”

“Van Helsing?!”

“Yes. But she’s harmless. Drawn to this place like a moth to flame. I think she’s adorable.”

“So you fed off her.”

“Hunter bloodlines always taste the sweetest. But I didn’t take enough to kill her.”

What?

I tried to sit up. My neck was sore and didn’t want to support the weight of my head. Sitting up seemed like it wasn’t an option. I groaned in complaint at the pain in my neck.

“Sounds like your most recent escapade isn’t reacting well,” Auggie remarked.

“She’s not an escapade, Augustus,” Killian retorted. “She’s a—”

“I know. A guest,” Augustus finished, exasperated. “But she’s a guest you fed off of. That makes her an escapade.”

Killian sighed dramatically. “You’re so old-fashioned. And I just... got carried away, is all.”

There was a pause—during which I tried to sit up again and failed.

“Got carried away?” Augustus quoted. “Oh no. You’re not...”

“Not what?” Killian challenged.

“In love with her.”

A loud scoff assaulted my sensitive ears. “Of course not! She’s human---she’s fragile. Did you know it takes less than a pound of pressure to break human skin? That’s why paper can cut them!”

“I’m aware. But you know the rules, Killian. Humans are off-limits. Too fragile. Too short-lived. You’d be better served to have a cat for company.”

“Cats don’t live as long as humans do.”

“No but they are rather better company,” Augustus said.

Killian’s eyeroll was almost audible. “Whatever. I have stuff to do and a guest to entertain. Go home, Auggie. Before the sun rises and you’re stuck here all day.”

There was a quiet Whoosh and the talking stopped.

The door creaked open and a hand cradled my head. “You’re looking a little weak, darling. I think I got a little carried away,” Killian’s voice said. “I took too much from you. I apologize.” His face swam into my vision, cloudy at first and slowly coming into focus. Dark eyes, dark hair, gauntly pale skin with sharp cheekbones. He looked as familiar as he sounded but for the life of me I still couldn’t figure out why.

“Don’t remember...”

“Anything? No I’d imagine not. One of the downsides of vampire venom is it blocks the previous few hours from your memory—so you don’t remember the vampire. It’s a defense mechanism that keeps vampires from being outed to the world. It helps us live in secret. Vampires are a curse on the human world. We’re not supposed to exist. So we stay separate from humans as much as possible, despite them being our food source.”

“Vam... pire...?” I mumbled.

“Yup. That’s me, dear.” Still cradling the back of my head, Killian helped me sit up. “Ooh. I’m sorry. I should have cleaned you up better. The back of your neck is coated in dried blood. My sincerest apologies.”

“Why did you... feed off me?”

“Well, as I recall you gave me consent and we got a little carried away.”

“I... don’t recall.”

“No. I’m aware you don’t. Which, I grant you, makes it difficult to verify that I’m telling you the truth. Those memories of last night are still there, just blocked off by a curtain. You can find them if you look hard enough.”

I stared at his handsome face. “Uh...”

“Perhaps this will jog your memory.” He leaned forward and planted a kiss on my lips. I molded against him immediately—instinctually—like I’d done it thousands of times before.

———

“Whoa,” I muttered, looking around at the dilapidated mansion. “This is still here? I thought the city was gonna tear it down for being a safety hazard.”

Cautiously, I crept toward the front door. The top hinge was broken, making the door hang slightly, warping the other two. Caution tape was crossed over the front door in a narrow X while a Do Not Enter sign hung haphazardly on the wood. The whole place smelled of time. Old wood. Old weathered stone. Mildew and plants slowly reclaiming the elements of the house for the earth.

I pushed the front door in and ducked through the X of Caution tape.

The powerful flashlight in my hand would definitely be useful once the sun completed its descent and plunged me into darkness.

I’d been in this old mansion hundreds of times. I’d wandered it a lot from the ages of twelve to twenty-two. Whenever I needed a getaway or just some alone time. I knew the ruin better than anyone. The creaky stair leading to the crumbling upper levels. Which windows had glass in them and which might cut me for the broken glass on the floor. I knew where the wooden floors had rotted away and which rooms to avoid.

No matter how old I was when I came here, I always felt like there was a pair of eyes watching me. But as I got older and nothing bad happened, I stopped thinking too hard about it. I liked to imagine it was the ghosts of residents past watching me appreciate their home.

I made my way to my favorite part of the mansion.

The ballroom. It was remarkably intact and the acoustics were perfect. I could bring a portable speaker, set it with my old iPod on the floor, and dance without disturbing anyone.

Which was what I did. Despite the deepening twilight, I wanted to dance.

So I turned on my speaker and started to waltz as though I had a partner, slightly taller than me, whisking me around the floor. I was used to leading myself—every partner I’d ever had was flimsy and didn’t know how to dance so I ended up being in charge, despite being a good follower and longing for a strong partner to play the leader once in a while.

I smiled at the old ballroom as I danced around, imagining what it must have looked like in its prime. Gilded torch sconces, beautiful instruments on the slightly-raised stage, perhaps tapestries, gleaming windows.

As I spun, I slowly came to the realization that I was actually seeing the ballroom transform—not just my imagination projecting. “Holy cow—what the—?!” I breathed.

A slow clapping reached my ears. “Phenomenal dancing, my dear,” a voice said.

I whirled.

The man standing in the doorway under the torchlight was intoxicatingly handsome. Dark hair and eyes with marble-fine skin and a tantalizing smirk.

I backed away. “Who are you? What happened to this place?”

He chuckled and stepped into the ballroom. “You’ve loved this place rather fondly, haven’t you?”

“That doesn’t answer my questions.”

“Alright. My name is Killian. And you’re in my home. You’ve always seen it as a ruin because that’s what I allow humans to see. It’s been enjoyable, wasting a decade watching you wander around this place, seeing only what you can see and enjoying it regardless.”

“How... what? How do you make it look like a ruin?”

The man—Killian—chuckled. “I can make humans see whatever I want.” There was a Whoosh and suddenly he was directly in front of me. “I’m a vampire, darling.”

Holy crap. Run. NOW, I thought frantically.

My legs refused to budge.

“Holy...” I whispered.

His hand covered my mouth. His skin was frigid to the touch—like he’d been making snowballs without gloves on. “There’s nothing holy on these grounds, my dear,” he purred. He growled the word holy like it physically pained him to say it aloud. I took a step away, making his hand fall off my mouth.

“Don’t... come any closer,” I said.

He smirked but didn’t close the distance between. “Or what? You’re in my territory on these grounds. You came willingly. I can do whatever I want to you.”

I backed up again. “Vampires are monsters.”

“We’re a curse on your world, yes,” Killian agreed placidly. “But ‘monster’ might be a bit harsh. Most of us do our best to live in secret and only prey on guilty souls.” He tilted his head, dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “And oh, how easy it would be for me to play right into your expectations and use my gifts to... convince you to stay here. But I won’t. I’ll let you choose of your own accord the path you take tonight. I’m too fond of you to force you into anything.

“I’ve watched you from your childhood wander this place. Spent a decade observing, listening to you rant about your problems to the walls as though they had ears. I know you better than you think I do, Angelica. You think I’m a stranger, but I’m not.”

I suddenly recalled every time I came to this place to sit on rotted furniture and yell to the forest and the ruined house about my problems. To talk aloud to myself just for the sake of processing the chaos of my thought stream.

He’d been listening?!

That was just embarrassing. I’d talked about boy problems in high school! I didn’t need some age-old vampire listening to me complain about how Brian from biology stared at me the entire class period instead of the whiteboard and try to figure out what to do about it.

My face turned bright red and I took several more steps away from him.

He took a deep breath through his nose and snickered. “You’re blushing. Makes it easier to smell your blood. It smells sweet, if you’re wondering. Most people are mildly salty, but there are a few bloodlines that are sweet.”

“You have the emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old,” I snapped.

“I have the emotional maturity of a twenty-five-year-old, actually,” he retorted, a playful glitter in his eyes. “That’s when I was turned. When my body froze. It was in the middle of the Revolutionary War. There were a few vampires on both sides turning other soldiers into vampires to gain an advantage over the other side. But your ancestors hunted most of them down and killed them in the centuries following the war.”

“My ancestors?”

“Yes. The sweet-smelling bloodlines invariably belong to vampire hunters.”

I stared, but Killian obviously wasn’t done.

“You ranted a lot about how your brother was always treated better than you. I imagine he’s been groomed into the next generation of hunter.”

“Boys are always treated nicer than girls. I was forced into responsibility at a young age while he was allowed to dink around like a lazy oaf with bad behavior well into adulthood. I doubt he’s been trained as a hunter.”

“You might be surprised. Your brother is Samuel Beckham, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“My friends have had run-ins with him. Carrying a wooden stake.”

I stared in alarm. “Uh...”

Killian smiled gently. “The world is much different than you know. Now. If you would allow me, I’d like to show you around my home now that I’m allowing you to see it as it is.” He offered me his elbow. I stared at it.

“Why now?” I asked.

“You’re an adult and I figured you probably wouldn’t run screaming at this point.”

“Being an adult and running away screaming are not mutually exclusive,” I pointed out.

“Indeed not,” he agreed. “But you’re brave enough to face the world so you’re brave enough face me.” He took my hand and looped it through his elbow, leading me from the ballroom. I relaxed slightly upon figuring out that he didn’t seem to have any intention of hurting me. He picked up on me loosening up and smiled at me.

As he gave me quite the grand tour, I found he was quite charming. He’d toned down the “intimidating supernatural creature” vibes and ramped up the “gracious gentleman” vibes. He was chivalrous and nice.

And a little flirty.

After he showed me the three-floor mansion, we ended up in a beautiful, moonlight-bathed room on the top floor’s balcony.

“So... what was with the intimidating act earlier?” I asked.

“I thought it might be good to see if you were scared. I’ve long held a fondness for you that’s deepened as you spent more time here and I wanted to see if you were brave enough to actually put up with being friends with a vampire.”

I turned and glanced at Killian. “You... want to be my friend?”

“Darling, in my mind, we’re already friends. I liked to think of myself as your imaginary friend when you were a child. Now that you’re an adult, I think we can be real friends now. You’ve spent so long talking to my walls, you now might as well talk to me.”

I fidgeted. “Thanks.” We were quiet for a minute. “So... my family really lied to me about being vampire hunters, huh?”

“Well, I’ve heard of Samuel Beckham, and your father is Richard Beckham, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I had an encounter with him. About five towns over. Few years ago now. He tried to kill me.”

“Can’t believe they lied to me,” I muttered. I looked Killian directly in the eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about my family.”

“On one condition,” Killian said. “You stay the night here. It’s too late for you to go home and I have... a plethora of guest bedrooms for you to sleep in.”

I thought for a moment. He had a point. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

Killian smirked and pulled me into an embrace.

There was a Whoosh and suddenly we were in a beautifully lush parlor, sitting on the sofa, slightly turned to face each other.

Killian told me stories of more than just my father and brother—he had stories of my ancestors. Generations of vampire hunters in our area, traveling to hunt, occasionally joining with others. Killian always managed to avoid the hunters in my family, but did talk with them without them realizing he was a vampire.

He told stories in the most captivating way. I couldn’t look away, completely drawn in. He was engaging. I kept leaning forward, like I was trying to dive into the actual story.

Before I knew it, we were pressed together, my shoulder snuggled into his upper arm. I was staring up at his black eyes like he had the secrets of the universe in them.

After several minutes near the end of his stories, he blinked. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if I was using my compelling to capture you in the story or not,” he said.

I cleared my throat and leaned back, face flushing.

Killian cleared his throat as well and leaned away. “I should—I should get you something more comfortable to sleep in and show you to your room.” He disappeared with a rush of air that blew my hair away from my face. Another breeze struck me as he returned with a beautiful white silk gown in his hands. “This is an old nightgown of my sister’s. When she was alive. It should fit you.”

I took it into my hands. It was beautiful and must have been expensive back when it was made. Heck, it looked like it would be expensive now.

“Thanks.”

“Here.” He scooped me up and after a blast of air I was set down in a beautiful guest room. Four-poster bed with lush hangings and mahogany framing. An armoire and wardrobe of the same wood.

“Wow,” I said. “This place is beautiful.”

“Get, uh, get changed and get some rest. It’s already late for a human. I don’t sleep but you must be exhausted.”

Once he said that, I realized I was tired. “Thank you,” I said. I let Killian shut the door and I changed into the nightgown. When I was done, he knocked.

I opened the door.

His jaw went slack. “W... wow. You look... great,” he said.

“I mean, it’s a nightgown,” I said.

“No, I—I mean it. You look—”

“Shut up,” I hissed, grabbing him by the collar with one hand and the back of his head with the other. He smirked before planting his lips on mine.

We got carried away very quickly. I felt Killian’s fangs graze the skin on the back of my neck, making me shudder. The shiver travelled from my head down to my feet.

“Killian...” I whispered, barely more than a breath.

“Angelica... I—I got carried away. I’m sor—”

“Stop apologizing for being what you are.”

“I just—”

I took a shuddering breath. Tonight was full of impulses. “If you want to, do it,” I whispered.

“I’m a better monster than that.”

“You don’t have to be with me. You don’t want to hurt me. I’m giving you permission.” I brushed my hair off my neck. “Bi... bite me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Of course.”

“Alright.”

Two sharp stabs entered the back of my neck. My eyes rolled into the back of my head.

Spots entered my vision and everything went black.

———

I pulled away from Killian. “I... I remember,” I said. “I...”

“I swear I didn’t necessarily—”

“I trusted you, Killian,” I said. “I don’t know why. But I did. I do. You’ve... completely captured me. You gave me truth when my loved ones gave me lies. You pulled me in and I’m not sure I want to be let go.” I slid closer to him, pressing our fronts together, hands holding his shoulders.

“Angelica,” he whispered, hands circling my hips and gently forcing me back a half-step. “Stop tempting me. Your blood is dry but it’s exposed and being that close might make me lose control again.”

“You were in control last night,” I pointed out.

“No I wasn’t. I started in-control, but lost it. It’s why you passed out and why you’re weak right now. I took too much from you.” He pushed me even farther away from him with his grip on my hips. “Don’t get caught up in the throes of my abilities. I have no control over luring prey toward me like an anglerfish in a dark trench. You’re drawn to this place like a moth to flame and I think it’s because I’m here.”

“You’re saying your unconscious allure is responsible for my impulses last night?”

“Possibly.” His eyes were closed and his face half-turned away from me. “I should... help you clean up the dried blood.”

Neither of us moved. “Killian?” I asked after several drawn-out moments of silence.

“Hmm?”

“What... should I do now?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“You’re literally hundreds of years old. You have a lot more life experience than I do. And I just found out that my family is a family of vampire hunters and never told me about it. What should I do?”

Killian looked surprised. “I... it’s your life, Angelica. I can’t tell you what to do. My opinion isn’t one you really want.”

“Maybe not but I asked for it.” I blinked. “Wait. You bit me. I’m not going to turn into a vampire, am I?”

He shook his head and flicked his dark bangs out of his eyes. “No. I made sure none of my venom stayed in your system. You’d turn if I bit you and didn’t suck the venom out of your blood.”

I nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

“Angelica... you could... you’re welcome to stay here.” He looked away from me, letting me go. I leaned toward the loss of contact, body yearning to keep touching him. I released a breath that I’d held and shook my head, trying to clear it.

“It’d be ironic, wouldn’t it?” I asked.

“What?”

“If you turned me into a vampire. A daughter of a bloodline of vampire hunters—a vampire herself.”

“I would never turn another person into what I am. I was forced to become the way I am—and I would never—”

“What if I asked, one day?”

“I still wouldn’t. Not unless you were actively dying.”

“Killian, look at me. Please.”

He turned and barely met my eyes. “You know a lot about my problems from my years of wandering your house and ranting at the walls. You don’t always see me for who I really am. A fun-loving, caring, happy optimist.”

“I have seen you that way too. When you dance. I see the real you shining through.”

I blushed. Killian stiffened.

“Let’s finish cleaning you up, okay? The dried blood is really getting to me.”

I shrugged. “Okay.”

———

“Can I... hmm. How do I put this? I want to ask my family about the hunting thing. And if they don’t answer or lie to me... I don’t want to be around loved ones who do nothing but lie. So I’ll come back here,” I said as Killian French-braided my hair. I didn’t ask him to. He’d just done it. “If that’s alright with you.”

“You’re always welcome here,” he said. “If you weren’t, I would have made the illusion so dangerous it would have scared you off.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

He tied off my braid. I turned around and pressed my lips to his. He closed his eyes and sighed, tilting his head for a better angle. After a moment, he pulled away just enough to whisper against my lips, “This passion, Angelica. I don’t think it’s you. I think it’s my influence on you.”

“We’ll see. If I still feel like I want to push you against a wall and kiss you when I’m at my house, far away from you, we’ll know whether this impulsive passion is you or all me.”

“I mean, I’m not complaining. But being with humans romantically is strongly discouraged. Most of us aren’t strong enough to resist the temptation of having fresh blood so close by so often.”

“Are you?”

“Look at what I’ve already done to you.” His fingers ghosted gently over the two scabbed wounds on the back of my neck.

“I let you,” I pointed out.

“But I went too far. It’s my fault.”

“You went through so much trouble wanting to be my friend and now you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“You’re wrong on one count and half-wrong on the other. You say I don’t want anything to do with you and that’s false. I want you to stay here. I want to be around you as often as possible. But I want you to be safe and I don’t think you will be if you stay with me. I’m not going to pretend like you didn’t hear Augustus talking this morning. Even other vampires don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in close proximity to even one human.”

“And what am I half-wrong about?”

“When you were a child I wanted to be your imaginary friend and protector. You were innocent and sweet but sharp as a tack.” He paused. “But, when you became an adult and you vented your problems to the walls and puzzled through them in a calm and collected manner, I started to feel differently.”

“You said something about how your fondness deepened?” I muttered.

“Yes. I fell for you. It’s one of the reasons my charm is so potent to you. My subconscious recognizes that my consciousness wants you closer and acts accordingly. If there was any supernatural blood in your veins, all of my abilities wouldn’t work on you. But you’re human so you get the full force of a predator’s adaptations to lure prey. And I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“Stick to the plan,” I said, swallowing thickly to force the other words I wanted to say down. “I go home and ask my family. If I still want you when I’m there the way I want you here, I’ll be back. If it’s just your charm, you’ll never have to see me cross your threshold uninvited ever again.”

I adjusted my jacket and moved to leave.

Killian snatched my wrist. “Angelica,” he said, tone almost pleading. “You’re always welcome here. As a friend. Even if you don’t want me the same way, I’ll accept it and always be here to welcome you back.”

“Killian, I...” I didn’t know what to say to that.

He pressed a kiss to the inside of my wrist. “I never want to pressure you into anything.”

“I know. You seem like an incredibly genuine man,” I said. “I’ll... probably come back.” I smiled and left the mansion, feeling in my pockets for my phone, iPod, speaker, and flashlight. I had everything I came in with.

The French braid left the two scabs on the back of my neck exposed, so I pulled the hood of my jacket up and bunched it on the back of my neck to hide them. My family’s reaction to them would confirm or deny Killian’s claims that my father and brother were hunters.

The farther away from the mansion in the woods I got, the more I felt like I could breathe. Like there had been some sort of tense cloud hanging over me that lifted as I put distance between me and the house.

That had never happened before. But, then again, I’d never had a conversation with the occupant of the house before last night.

The closer I got to home, the more I felt my heart pulling me back in the other direction. Toward Killian’s mansion. I wanted to go back. I’d felt safer there than I had... even in my own home. Maybe my instincts were reacting to my father and brother being lethal all along and Killian wasn’t lying to me. Because of course it had occurred to me that he was lying to me—he was a vampire and I was a vampire’s prey—but he’d never gone out of his way to lure me in before. In ten years of me using his house as a sanctuary he hadn’t spoken to me until last night.

Hmph.

I pushed my front door open. “I’m home!” I called into the void.

“Angel!” my mom exclaimed, slamming into me with a strong hug.

“Oh. Hi Mom.”

“You were gone all night last night!”

“I know. I’m okay, I promise,” I said.

“Don’t ever do that again, Angel, without telling me, okay? Where were you?!”

“I went to Gina’s house for the night. We just got talking and I passed out on the sofa.” I made a mental note to text Gina to tell her what I said so if my mom asked, she could cover for me. We had a mutual agreement to cover for each other, but without warning it could be hard.

“You scared me.”

I shucked off my jacket. “Sorry Mom.”

“Did Gina braid your hair?”

“Yeah.”

“Wait. Honey.” Mom caught my wrist as I moved to go into the kitchen to find some breakfast. “What’re these?” She brushed my braid off the back of my neck and revealed the bite wounds, touching each one gently. They were slightly tender and made me flinch.

“Mosquito bites. I itched them hard.” I went and found the toaster still out. “Are Dad and Sam home?”

“Dad’s at work. Sam’s upstairs with Diego.”

Diego was Sam’s best friend. If I knew them as well as I thought I did, they were probably upstairs playing Halo or Minecraft or something that they would shout at me for not understanding if I poked my head in.

“Okay. Just wondering.” I made some toast.

“So what are your plans today?”

“Think I’m gonna go on a hike.”

“Mom?!” Sam shouted from upstairs. “Is that Angelica?”

“Yeah!” Mom called.

Thundering footsteps preceded my brother’s entrance to the kitchen. “Where were you?” he demanded.

“Gina’s.” I ignored the hostility in his tone and munched on my toast. “Why do you care?”

“I was worried about you!”

“You’ve never worried about me once in your life.”

Sam shoved my braid onto my shoulder. “What are those?”

“Mosquito bites.”

“On your neck?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s it to you?” The hostility in my tone slowly ramped up until I wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

“Your hair was down last night. A mosquito wouldn’t be able to get to your neck.”

“You’ve never had the absolute horror of getting a bug stuck in your hair when it’s as long as mine,” I deadpanned. “Trust me when I say it is possible and it sucks.”

Sam blinked. “Can I talk to you alone?” He took me and my slices of toast out the back door, away from our mom and his best friend. “Those look like a vampire bite.”

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” I growled lowly so any neighbors outside wouldn’t hear.

“What?”

“You and Dad are vampire hunters, aren’t you? That’s why Dad travels so much for work.”

“How did you find out?”

There it was. Confirmation that my family lied to me.

“Does Mom know?”

Sam chewed his lower lip. “Yes.”

“Great. So I was the only one left in the dark. It all makes sense now, why you were the favorite child—endlessly indulged to misbehave while I was forced into domestic responsibility from a young age. You’re the one carrying on the family legacy.”

“Angel, you’ve been bitten by a vampire. Those wounds are fresh. Hours old. One fed off of you. You’re not turning—I’ve seen the transformation before—so tell me who it is and I’ll—”

“No,” I said. “What happens to me is none of your business.” I turned sharply and went back inside. I went up to my room and changed into a new hiking outfit. I heard Sam follow me up the stairs. He was glaring at me from the door to his bedroom as I emerged. “Mom I’m going on a hike!” I shouted.

“Take Sam and Diego with you!” Mom yelled from downstairs. “They could use some sunlight!”

“They’re not plants, Mom! I’ll be back in a couple hours!” I ran down the stairs, grabbed my water bottle, threw it in my backpack, and ran out the door. There was no doubt in my mind that Samuel would follow me trying to find out who the vampire was who bit me.

So I ran the whole way back to Killian’s mansion, trying to buy myself some time.

“Killian!” I shouted as I shoved the front door open. I was weak from blood-loss still and the run tired me out.

He was immediately in front of me. “What is it?”

Panting, I tried to speak. “Make... this place... look like... a ruin. And let’s... get out of here. My brother will follow me here. We just... need to buy... some time.”

“You confronted him.”

“He confronted me about the bite wounds.”

Killian scooped me up into his arms. Wind sped across my face, tangling the baby hairs that escaped my braid. “They lied to me,” I muttered.

“You came back to me.”

“I told you I would. I wasn’t gone for long but I felt like I was being pulled back here the whole time. I figured it out, Killian. I want you.”

Killian slowed to a stop. We were far away from the forest outside my town. Heck we were probably in another state. “You’re... you’re sure about that?” he asked, barely more than a whisper, setting me down.

I nodded. “Positive.” I tilted up onto my tiptoes and planted my lips on his. He kissed me back enthusiastically.

“I want you too.”

#original #original fiction #my writing #writing #fun fact #my name was almost Angel #hence why I chose Angelica #that flashback... is too long #I'm sorry #This thing is SO LONG #vampire #vampires

[throughtheeraswithlibs]

ILLUSTRATION - DEVELOPING MY OWN STYLE

To develop our own knowledge on which illustrative style best accommodates to our interests and would project the best outcome when designing our own signature illustration style, we were given the task of combining different elements of artists we particularly liked. Therefore, I chose a range of very different and unique artists, to produce multiple different outcomes, whilst incorporating my own little twists onto my illustrations, to add my own individual interpretation on my work. For this piece, I was heavily inspired by Elyse Blackshaw, who creates spectacular illustrations using a very messy technique, which she refines with black fine liner, and spices up with lots of textures such as glitter. A main element of Blackshaws work is collaging, as she uses popular icons heads, such as Iris Apfel, to incorporate textural elements into her work. 

The heads are usually abnormally small, paired with childish style components such as the colouring method and the hands and feet features. I believe the messier look always looks more expressive and beautiful, due to the fact it allows someone to colour outside of the lines and express the freedom of art, which I particularly enjoyed creating through Blackshaws style. I wanted to include the essence of Blackshaw in my work through my pen technique, which I created using a very free hand, meanwhile adding hints of darker pink to add dimension and textural features into my illustration. I wanted to exaggerate some parts of the garment such as the bows, to show the juxtaposition in proportionality, which is why I made the dress shorter, to expose the simplistic fine-liner illustrated legs. I wanted to exaggerate these features to construct upon a more ‘weird but wonderful’ aura, hence why the bag is so big and the reasoning for one arm being longer than the other. 

I was fascinated by the beauty of Jamie Lee Reardins work. The delicacy of weirdness manages to look abnormally pretty which I definitely wanted to capture in the facial features of my illustration. I used a very defined, bone-like structure for the facial features, carving in the cheek bones and accentuating the defined jaw line, meanwhile also incorporating Reardins strangely skinny features through the neck. However, I also loved the elegance of Angelica Rosselyns pastel work, which is when I accumulated the idea to combine the elegance of both illustrators, using pastel work inspired by Rosselyn and facial structures influenced by Reardin. I first built upon the pastels through blending with a cotton bud so I could be more precise, and then highlighted certain structures with finaliser such as the cheekbones and eyelashes. I doubled up on the fineliner to add a more messy outline effect which I really enjoy the look of, as it contributes to my beliefs on expressing the freedom and flow of art. 

Additionally, I wanted to add texture to my piece, contributing to this weird but wonderful look, therefore I added pastel pink pieces of thread, to embody Blackshaws collaging style, but in my own interpretation, with thread instead of magazines. 

Next time, I would perhaps like to accentuate the head more, making it a big main feature of the work to emphasise the difference in proportionality and make the illustration style more unique. 

[ask--angelicaschuyler-blog]

HIATUS(?) UPDATE:

it’s been a few months and i ,,,, definitely owe some sort of word for my absence. |D 

so after that discourse(?) happened with the “john is gay!!11!” person, i got heavily discouraged from making content for a minute. of course, right after that, i chose to make a huge-ass comic update (which i plan on continuing because holy shit that has??? 300+ notes?? h ow). i didn’t want to make answers until that was finished bc i wanted to have maria established, but the next update was a bunch of panels long and i was quickly losing motivation to finish it, and i therefore couldn’t do answers. 

on top of all that, i’m a student still. this semester has kicked my ass so far and i’ve,, been really bad at handling the stress |D i’ve also been handling stuff for my local theatre bc i’m apart of the board. bc of these things i don’t draw nearly as much as i want to, and i haven’t at all been keeping up with this blog because i like drawing a bunch of answers in the row and making sure they’re quality bc i love y’all sm and u guys deserve Top Notch Quality™ . im not saying all this in a “waahh poor me” way but as an explanation as to why this blog sorta died for a sec 

BUT!! ALAS! i am here again! i’ve slowly started getting better at my work management and i’ve been able to draw a bunch more (if u look at my main blog you’ll see my improvement, it’s wild) and i’m planning on being more active again. i don’t want to promise anything because things change really fast, but i’m really trying to stay alive. this blog is almost at two thousand followers, which is crazy. i was legit shook when my main blog got to like,,,, 100. omg. 

sooo what does that all mean for now? the comic for maria is going to continue, however not continously one right after the other, hence why i’ve marked it in parts (i added the “1/?” thing in the descr.) i’m gonna start working through answers and deleting things that i can’t answer to filter the inbox ( ;_; i have stuff for halloween that i can’t answer now and i’m depressed). 

i’m ALSO thinking about making an art blog so you guys can still see content if i’m not updating this blog!! i have a silly medic!angelica au that i’ve been wanting to draw for, so i’d finally be able to upload it there. i’d do it on my main but not a lot of people follow me there |D and as always i’m usually doodling general hamilton fanart bc why not

again, i’m really sorry for disappearing. this blog is really the first thing i’ve ever had a reason for continuing - all my rp accounts or accounts like this for other characters were always so obscure and i dropped them within days, but this one actually brings me a lot of joy and makes me happy drawing for c: the support y’all show for my weird art style and obscure pairings and characterization makes me happier than you could imagine and i’m so thankful for it. i’m going to do my best not to let y’all down. 

i’ll post another little update if/when i make my main art blog!! <33 

#it speaks #someone on my main sent me a message abt this and i thought now would be a good time to update #<333 #not a question

[runawayforthesummer]

Chapter 7: Gauntlet (Or Handkerchief?) Thrown

The ball is still going on; Hamilton has resorted to drinking.

After taking his leave and bowing to Eliza Schuyler, Alex went back to drinking mulled cider from the Schuyler orchards spiked with apple brandy from the Pastures’ own trees and followed that, perhaps a bit unwisely, with French wine spiced with cinnamon and cloves.

He is a lightweight.  It’s not just canon.  It’s fact.

Still, he smokes cigars and drinks whisky like he’s Don fucking Draper.

Taking advantage of the general’s lavish hospitality

Why am I the only one who remembers Philip Schuyler told a 20 year old soldier to sleep in a barn?

...

OMG

Then Hamilton refers to two of the girls surrounding him as

Comely lasses

I want off this train!!!

He thinks these other girls might be fun at another party, but he can’t get over those Schuyler sisters.

Angelica, regal and self-possessed, even next to her less-than-graceful partner…Peggy, laughing vivaciously and looking as though she was dancing with a French court rather than an awkward lad…But above all there was Eliza, wearing a dress more suited to the schoolroom than the ballroom, who had insulted his name and rank at every turn, and had even stepped on his foot—and who made him want nothing more than for her to step on the other.

Why? She’s a bitch.

THE THING IS I have a hard time believing Ham would at all like a girl like this (let alone that I don’t think Eliza was at all like this).

This guy was enormously sensitive about his station and rank and I imagine there were plenty of rich girls who DID insult all those things, and to his face.  There’s a reason he married one of them who didn’t.

To me, de la Cruz seems to be lacking of understanding of who either Alex or Eliza were, and what drew them to one another.  And that’s why this book is so bad.

And idk again maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I wasn’t reading it in the context of what I know.  But then again, she chose to write historical fiction.  You gotta expect this shit will happen.

What was it about the sharp-tongued lass wearing a homespun gown, a modest cotton dress that touched his heart in its bold demonstration of her alliance to the patriot cause?

What bold demonstration?  She’s making heart eyes at John Andre! What are you even talking about, Hamilton?  What have you seen her do that shows her being a patriot at all?  And I’ve talked enough about her dress, so I won’t, but GOD.  This book is stupid.

And why on earth was she dancing for the third time with that blasted British office, Major Andre?

GEE HAMILTON B/C SHE WAS MAKING HEART EYES AT HIM.

Some soldier interrupts Hamilton’s dance with one of the Dutch girls he’s using to distract himself from Eliza.  Hamilton tries to be kind to the fellow soldier, who has lost a leg in the war.  And AT FIRST I got excited that Gouverneur Morris was somehow here.

Instead, it’s a man who decides to insult Hamilton’s background.  Fun!

“Normally you would except the son of gentry to shirk the battlefield.  But in this case it is the nobody commoner who flees glory and hides behind a clerical duty or some other equally flimsy excuse while the nobleman defends his country’s honor.  But then, it isn’t really your country now, is it?”

Hamilton, leave.  Go into town.  Find a place to crash.  Do not put up with this bullshit. 

Hamilton tries to save face (without starting a duel) but it takes Stephen van Rensselaer getting involved for “Peterson” to back down.

“Everybody knows you got ‘injured’ when you stabbed yourself in the ankle with your own bayonet while you were loading your gun, and then you fell down drunk in a latrine and got it infected so that it had to be amputated.”

IMAGINE being read like that by a child! Amazing. 

Awwww!  John Church also stands up for Hamilton! Yay!

Brother-in-laws!!!! (one day)

However, Peterson is not feeling this either.

“You! A lobsterback! You dare to insult me in my own house.”

Eliza, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange, spoke up.  “Actually, Mr. Peterson, Mr. Church is not a soldier and hence does not wear a redcoat, and pray I remind you, the Pastures is my father’s house.”

Well at least she wasn’t heinous for once in this book.

Anyway, all the rich people at the party gang up on Peterson and shame him for being an ass.  Can they do that to Philip Schuyler next?  And then Eliza?

Peterson, though, has some words for Eliza. 

“And you, girl.  If your mother thinks you will make a rich match, she’s sorely mistaken.  No one is interested in a girl afflicted with intellect and opinion and a small dowry! It’s why you only have a redcoat and a clerk as your dance partners this evening!”

Actually, it was pretty common in the area Eliza’s from for girls to be educated.  The idea being that she should be smart and able to discuss issues of importance.  Yes, it was to help her husband do his job better, but it still mattered that she be well-versed in subjects of the day, especially the war. 

There was a shocked silence from the assembled, until Alex spoke, his words cold as the first frost: “You will apologize to the lady.”

“Apologize? For telling the truth?” Peterson sputtered.  “Why?  Is she your paramour, is that it?  Oh, Colonel Hamilton, do not protest—everyone has noticed your interest in the girl.  You can barely take your eyes off of her.”

You know, if Eliza weren’t such a demon in this book, I’d really love that Ham is the one more into her than she is into him.  Too bad.

Anyway, whatever, this dude storms off. 

Eliza turned to Alex.  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

Good.  Now apologize for being awful earlier.

“It is an honor to come to your defense,” he said with deep sincerity, his heart hammering under his uniform.

“And I must commend you on your restraint.  An ugly situation could have grown much uglier had you not shown such decorum.”

Alex smiled.  “Those are the kindest words I’ve heard all evening.”

Eliza looked as if she was going to take them back, but she held his gaze and didn’t look away from him.  He wished he could tell her how he really felt, but somehow he understood it would not be welcome at this juncture.  Alex stepped back with a gentlemanly bow, watching Eliza walk away on the arm of a British major.

:(.  You know how normally I only care about women and men are only useful as far as they make that woman happy?  I sort of feel like that, except I just want Alex to be happy.

Oh god, hours later, Hamilton is taken to the barn.  Apparently he’d thought before that was mostly a joke! :(((((

THIS IS AWFUL.

The interior of the lofty barn at the foot of the hill was no less cold than the November night outside.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, PHILIP SCHUYLER?!

“With the house so full of guests, Mrs. Schuyler was unable to find a spare blanket, but there’s plenty of hay,” Rodger said without sarcasm.

One time, when I was like just out of college, my friends and I got to go to a really fancy New Year’s Eve party at a legit billionaire’s house.  It was great until we basically couldn’t arrange a ride home due to the Rose Parade the next morning and the host was like “well you can sleep on the floor.  Here’s a blanket for the six of you to share.”   I thought THAT was pretty cold.  This is so awful.

Before he leaves, Rodger hands him what turns out to be the handkerchief Eliza stuffed down her bra earlier. 

It smelled like her perfume, and he inhaled its sweet scent, bringing it to his nose, just as a scrap of paper fluttered out of it.

He’s so gone.  He’s so gone! 

The note reads:

Wait for me.  The hayloft.  After the ball.

If Eliza is just tricking him, I’m going to give up reading this book.

Knowing that she wants to see him makes up for having to sleep in a fucking barn. 

She would be here soon.  It was after the ball.  What would he say to her? …

And now she was on her way. 

He fought sleep, waiting.

And waiting.

This poor guy.

He falls asleep and wakes up alone in the morning.

I hate her.

I mean, real talk, probably someone else wrote the note, not Eliza, so Hamilton is going to harbor ill feelings for no reason.

But whatever. 

Right now, I hate her and feel legit awful for him.

#alex & eliza a love story #melissa de la cruz #live blogging

[group7sa21-k-blog]

W E L L - B E I N G (by: Stephanie Angelica S. Naval)

As soon as this task was given, my System 1 activated in reaction to the assigned task at hand. I first gave a facial expression of confusion and puzzlement for it was a unique task that I have never encountered before.  According to Kahneman, System 1 “operates automatically and quickly, with little or no effort and no sense of voluntary control.” (2011) Hence, my immediate and automatic expression to the assignment activates my System 1. However, as the task required me to do further thinking, attention and concentration I begin to activate my System 2, which, according to Kahneman, “allocates attention to the effortful mental activities that demand it and are often associated with the subjective experience of agency, choice, and concentration.” (2011) Thus, as my work for the assignment progressed I began to use my System 2.

For my first object, I hope to send my family one of my art pieces I painted of Venice as seen in the picture above. I hope to leave them this painting because of the good memories and feelings that are attached to the painting. Not only did I uniquely make this painting but also the illustration of Italy from the painting captures is attached to positive emotions. Italy was a recent place where my family visited and it was perhaps one of the best trips we ever had since great and loving memories were built there. It was a reunion from my dad’s side and all my cousins, titos and titas were able to attend. We shared many late nights bonding, laughing, dancing, and enjoying each other’s company.

I anticipate that when given this painting my family members and loved ones would recall these fond thoughts and memories. These thoughts would hopefully lead them to feelings of happiness and joy. Hence, hopefully ensuing them to be happy and joyful in their behavior. This painting would serve as a reminder of me when I am away in this far away environment, hence, the rationale as to why I chose this to be my first object.

For my second object, I would bring my meditation smart phone app, called “Breathe.” This meditation app contains daily mindfulness exercises and breathing tools in order to improve ones mental health. (An image of the digital application is displayed above.) The app, Breathe, is what I would bring because I feel it would be useful in my new overwhelming environment (college) and would keep me grounded to my well-being. According to Williams’ “Mind, Body and Emotion,” there are three elements he implies that affect our well-being: thoughts, feelings and behaviors. (2007)

For this new environment, I am anticipating self-doubt and negative thoughts from myself. In addition, I am anticipating thoughts of fears and anxieties as well, which would lead me to feelings of insecurity, worriedness, fear, restlessness, uneasiness and what not. Hence, in order for me to stop these feelings and thoughts from developing into undesirable behaviors I must practice mindfulness in my new environment.

Mindfulness, according to Williams, is “the awareness that emerges through paying attention on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgmentally to things as they are.” (2007) It is through this awareness I am able to catch myself as early as being aware of my unhealthy thoughts and addressing such thoughts in order for it to translate to healthy behaviors and how I interact with others and my environment. Furthermore, not only does this mindfulness aid my interaction towards my environment but vice versa, how the environment affects and relates to me as well, as studied by Mesquita from the text, “The Cultural Construction of Emotions.”

My emotions, as Mesquita points out, “are iterative and active constructions that help an individual achieve the central goals and tasks in a given context.” (2016) Hence, by integrating myself into a new environment this opens myself to the culture of emotions that the new context brings or will influence me to do. Managing such emotions would be essential for me, thus, the rationale as to why I chose the app, Breathe.

Lastly, we see that my idea of well-being is the state of which an individual is happy or healthy through his or her thoughts, feelings, behaviors and how they interact with ones environment. I have selected such items because I feel that they will contribute positively to my well-being and my family’s well-being as well. I’m a firm believer that self-care is essential. and in order to achieve that one can practice mindfulness, emotion regulation  strategies and positively develop their relationships towards their environment (the objects, peers, happenings and factors that surround them) and vice versa.

This practice of well-being is what I try to pursue through mindfulness exercises, being conscious of my “modal model”, processes and emotion regulation strategies when encountering situations, and by developing healthier relationships with the environment surrounding me for well-being is not simply personal but social as well. It is these factors that also affect our development and overall state of as a person. Hence, my idea of well-being is not simply the harmony of the self but includes the harmony of how it relates to everything that surrounds it.

References:

Batja Mesquita, Michael Boiger, Jozefien De Leersnyder. (2016). The cultural construction of emotions, Current Opinion in Psychology, 8: Pages 31-36, ISSN 2352-250X, http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2015.09.015. 

Kahneman, D. (2011). The characters of the story. In Thinking, fast and slow. New York: Farrar, Straus, and Grioux, pp. 19-30.

Williams, M., Teasdale, J., Segal, Z., & Kabat-Zinn, J. (2007). Part I: Mind, Body, and Emotion. In The mindful way through depression: Freeing yourself from chronic unhappiness. New York: The Guilford Press. pp. 11-49.