littlewitchhazels-blog

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

right..... so im trying to put myself out there in terms of art so heres a sketchbook dump i guess! 

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

wow its been a long time since ive touched this blog... writing will resume shortly once my elbow and wrist have recovered from exams!! 

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

So I finally updated ‘Keelah Se’lai, Pathfinder’! I am so sorry for the delay, and this still isn’t the quality I want it to be, but I needed to write something to work out the writers block... And, honestly, I’m just happy I’m managing to get the plot going again! You can read the latest chapter here :)

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

One More Night Out

I thought I’d jump on the bandwagon of Xmas fics and boy did I have fun scrawling this one out! I must have taken three different approaches to the story, but I decided to go with something fluffy whilst I work on something a little more angsty and ‘serious’ (wink wink nudge nudge ;) look out for that, coming soon). Kind of cheesy and cliche, but that’s just the way I like it! Anyhow, Joyce deserves all the happiness in the world and this is my non-canon way of giving it to her. (Read on AO3)

“Jane shouldn’t have to miss out,” Joyce had reasoned, “and the boys have been desperate to show her all things Christmas, or so I’ve been told.”

“I don’t know, Joyce, the Snow Ball was one night already and—“

“I know, Hop, I know. Just… Think about it?”

That was how Hopper had ended up at the Byers’ front door with El — or Jane, as he should be calling her now — in tow. She was practically buzzing with excitement over the unexpected outing, and the chance to be with her friends again. Yes, she was allowed visits from the party at the cabin (something of which Hopper had begrudgingly agreed to), but there was something special about being allowed to set foot out instead. Twice she’d changed her outfit, going through a good load of the new clothes Joyce had gotten her, before finally settling on something she seemed satisfied with. It was strange but nice to see her acting like a regular teenage girl in spite of… Well, everything.

They hadn’t had time to pick up a proper present for their hosts, partially due to Hopper’s very last minute decision to take up Joyce’s offer, which had frustrated both of them greatly. Jane because she was incredibly insistent on ‘following holiday tradition’ — quite a mouthful for her, but Hopper expected it was a line fed to her by Mike or Will — and Hopper because turning up on Joyce’s doorstep empty-handed on Christmas Eve felt wrong. Joyce had assured them that gifts weren’t necessary, but at least it was something to say ‘thank you’ for the thoughtful invitation. In the end, Hopper settled with a bottle of wine hastily picked up from town hand a quick card cobbled together by Jane with what little art supplies they had.

Hopper squeezed Jane’s hand, “You ready?”

Beaming up at him, Jane nodded vigorously. “Yes!”

He chucked at her boundless enthusiasm and raised a hand to knock soundly on the door. From within, he could hear soft Christmas music intermingling with chatter and scattered footfalls. Following his knock on the door, Hopper could hear a swiftly approaching “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, don’t worry baby; coming, coming!” At the sound of the voice, Jane clutched the presents to her chest tightly and turned her unwavering attention towards the door. Within a matter of moments, the door creaked open and Joyce appeared before them. “Oh, Hop! You came!”

There was nothing particularly special about the way Joyce looked, but that care-free smile that only seemed to widen at the sight of him made her look radiant. Suddenly, all his worries and doubts about coming seemed stupidly inane in retrospect.

“Yeah, I thought about it and… Well, it couldn’t hurt to spend Christmas somewhere other than, you know, the cabin. And El— Jane, she deserves a night out, so here we are.”

Joyce’s gaze quickly fell upon Jane, and Hopper couldn’t help but smile as her eyes lit up at the sight of the young girl. He nudged Jane forward, who quickly ran into Joyce’s outstretched arms. “Merry Christmas, Joyce!”

Joyce laughed and pulled Jane even closer. “Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart, you looking forward to tomorrow?”

Jane nodded into Joyce’s shoulder before pulling away to offer the merger presents they’d brought for her. “For you, from me and Hopper.”

It took a moment for Joyce to register the gifts, which she took carefully from Jane; her eyes flickering between Jane, Hopper, and the items she held in her hands. “Oh, you didn’t have to—“

“Think of it more as a ‘thank you’,” Hopper supplied, “from us.”

Joyce regarded him for a moment before stepping out of the doorframe and letting them into the house. Hopper had almost forgotten that they were still standing on the porch in the cold, bundled up in scarves and coats. “Well, don’t just stand there. Come in, come in! It’s freezing out there!”

They hurried in, shaking off the snow clinging to their winter clothing before peeling off the layers they’d wrapped themselves in. Hopper had only just helped Jane wriggle her arms out of her slightly-too-large coat before she’d spotted Will across the room and dashed to give him a warm hug. They collided into each other with peals of laughter that swiftly changed to soft words that Hopper couldn’t hear from where he stood. After a moment, Jane nodded enthusiastically and Will began to lead her around the house in what was presumably a tour of Christmas tradition, considering their stops at the tree and all the decorations hung around the house.

Joyce and Hopper weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but Will and Jane had become fast friends in a matter of days, quickly forming an incredibly close bond seemingly from the moment they met properly. It was certainly a strange friendship — built on quiet contemplation and hushed conversation — but it was a strong one at that. Perhaps they’d found something in each other, linking back to their harrowing experiences with the Upside Down, that built the foundations for a bond between them. Whatever it was, Joyce was certainly glad for it.

Hopper hung up his and Jane’s coats and took the chance to look over the living room. Without prior knowledge, he bet that nobody would be able to imagine the mess that had once sprawled across the walls, floor, and halls of the Byers house. Everything had certainly been sufficiently tidied away with everyone’s help following what had happened in November. Sure, the corpse in the fridge and the enraged teen out cold on the living room floor had been something of an unpleasant surprise, but they’d dealt with that too.

“You know, you really didn’t have to get me anything, Hop.” Joyce muttered once Jane was out of earshot.

Hopper shrugged. “I wanted to,” he said plainly, “and besides, Jane wouldn’t let me hear the end of it if I— we didn’t give you something.”

Joyce smiled, turning the handmade card over in one hand. The lopsided handwriting was something of an attempt to teach Jane how to write better in preparation for school, but for as messy as it was Hopper was glad that it was at least readable. “This is very sweet. Thank you.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment, their conversation at a standstill, before Joyce gestured towards the dining room. “Do you want to sit or— we could open the wine, I guess—“

“Yeah, no, that would be— that would be good.”

He followed Joyce as she made her way into the kitchen, rooting through the cupboards for a corkscrew. “Where’s Jonathan tonight?” Hopper asked, hesitantly floating around Joyce as he waited for something to do.

“The Wheelers’, with Nancy, or so he told me. Hey, could to reach that— no, no, not that one… Yes! Thanks.”

Setting the old wine glasses he dug out down on the table, Hopper leaned over to take the bottle from Joyce to free her hands. “Need anything else, Joyce?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, it’s all right.”

Hopper nodded slowly, sliding into one of the chairs as he waited for Joyce to emerge from the cupboards she’d practically crawled into in her search for a corkscrew. Finally, he heard a triumphant exclamation, and Joyce came over brandishing the nifty device victoriously.

Joyce wasted no time opening the bottle and pouring a hearty glass of wine for both her and Hopper. “Cheers, my friend, and a very merry Christmas to you!”

“And a happy, hopefully more normal, new year!”

Dinner had been a success despite Joyce’s warnings that cooking was ‘definitely her strong point’, an overall enjoyable time in spite of Jane’s stubbornness to avoid anything green on her plate. Joyce, however, had managed to goad her into eating her vegetables with promises of Christmas sweets and sugary drinks. As much as Hopper scowls over Jane’s smug grin as she scoops up her well-earned treats, he can’t help but find a sort of merriment in all of it. Must be the Christmas spirit in the air.

Soon enough, Will and Jane retreated further into the house to gorge themselves on candy canes and continue whatever conversations they were having when they came giggling to the dining table. Neither parental figure was able to coax it out of them, so they thought it would be best to just leave it at that. Now alone once more, Joyce had suggested moving to the living room. “It’s more comfortable,” she’d reasoned, before promptly standing up and taking both her and Hopper’s glasses with her.

So, of course, he had no choice but to follow her over. Joyce sunk into the couch with a groan, obviously worn out by a busy day of working, dashing around, and preparing dinner. Hopper took a seat next to her, but was sure to leave a respectable distance between the two of them. He still wasn’t sure exactly about the boundaries between the two of them, but he would rather be overly cautious than overbearing.

Just as they’d settled into their seats, the old Christmas album came to its end and the sound of the looping crackle of the record player coaxed another tired groan from Joyce. “Don’t worry,” Hopper laughed, pushing himself up from the couch, “I’ll do it.”

Joyce mumbled a thanks as she took another sip of wine, watching over the brim of her glass as Hopper sorted through the pile of old records she’d dug out for the festive season and pulled out something from the bottom without looking too closely at the label. It didn’t take long for the silence to be filled with soft-jazzy Christmas tunes. Hopper looked over to her for approval, and came back over once she’d given him a small nod.

He sat back down with a sigh, and they swiftly fell back into their comfortable silence. Joyce closed her eyes and let herself sink even deeper into the couch. With the soft music, warmth of the living room, and the exhaustion of the busy day, she could have almost fallen asleep right then and there. But then, after a few moments, Hopper spoke up. “Joyce, uh, thanks for this. It was… It was nice. I think Jane really enjoyed herself tonight.”

She smiled at him. “Anytime, Hop.”

“I… I had a good time, too. It’s been a while.”

Though he’d left the rest unsaid, Joyce easily picked up on the context. It was easy to read in the stilted words and far-off gaze; telltale signs of when he let his thoughts trail off to darker places, locked away behind hurriedly built walls in his mind. Pursing her lips, Joyce reached over and laid a hand on his arm. “It’s really nice that you came.” She said quietly.

He shrugged. “I nearly didn’t. But look at all the fun I would have missed out on if I hadn’t!”

Joyce laughed, rolling her eyes at the grin that tugged at the corners of his mouth at what he must have thought was the best damn joke in the world. “What,” Joyce challenged, “so sitting around with me isn’t fun?”

“I never said it wasn’t. I’ll be sure to add ‘great company’ to the list, along with food, a glass of wine, and peace and quiet for once!”

She smiled, and was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was still touching his arm. Clearing her throat somewhat awkwardly, Joyce pulled her hand away and laid it purposely on her own knee. As far as she could tell, Hopper didn’t react.

In fact, it almost seemed as if he was going to continue their little conversation before a familiar few notes suddenly played from the sound system and brought on a whole host of old memories to Joyce’s mind. She must’ve had quite the reaction, considering the laugh that it coaxed from Hopper.

“Oh!” Joyce exclaimed, bringing a hand to her face, “I haven’t heard this song in years!”

As if one cue, Hopper put down his glass of wine on the table beside him and stood up from the couch offering her a hand. “How ‘bout it, Joyce, for old times sake?”

She gave a breathy laugh. Maybe Hopper’d had one too many glasses of wine tonight if he was suddenly asking her to dance. “Really, Hop?”

He shrugged, swaying ever so slight to the music. “Why not? We never slow danced back then, so why not start now?”

A smile began to pull at the corners of Joyce’s lips. It was funny to bring up the old days, seeing as how nostalgia ran rampant with each and every little thing she and Hopper did together — chatting, confiding, smoking, laughing, smiling, and generally being close once again. Just over a year ago, this whole situation would have been unheard of, but here they were. “Joyce,” Hopper said, bringing her back to reality again, “that wasn’t exactly a ‘no’…”

She regarded him for a moment. On one hand, it was a difficult proposition to take up, considering the pain that still lingered in her heart after what had happened to… To Bob. Just to think that two months ago, they’d been doing the exact same thing whilst the boys had gone out trick-or-treating. The thought was enough to put a damper on her mood, and the smile that had found itself upon her lips was beginning to falter.

“Joyce?”

She opened her mouth to tell him a polite ‘no’, but something stopped her. As much as Joyce wanted to say ‘no’ — needed to, almost — there was something deep down that seemed to push her towards this strange but not wholly unwelcome situation. A piece of her from twenty or so years ago, laughing and smiling over the smallest matters in life, that swooned over the idea of dancing with Hopper. Biting her lip, she looked up at him and saw that concerned furrow of his brow at her hesitation. She knew if she said no, Hopper wouldn’t push her into it. There was every opportunity to step away, and yet…

“I guess,” she said slowly, “we could do… One dance.”

Joyce hadn’t even finished answering by the time Hopper had pulled her to her feet, barely giving her enough time to put down the glass of wine she’d been sipping at throughout the night. Laughter escaped her lips as she almost collided with Hopper before she stiffly straightened herself up.

Pushing herself up on her tiptoes, Joyce reached up to place a hand on Hopper’s shoulder; all the while, Hopper just looked down with an amused glint in his eyes but said nothing. A wise choice. “I’ll try not to step on your toes.” She whispered.

Hopper laughed. “Don’t worry, Joyce, I think I’m far more out of practice than you are.”

“We’ll see about that, Hop,” Joyce chided, “we’ll see.”

Jane and Will peered out the crack of the door, watching with intrigue as Joyce and Hopper swayed to the music playing from the record player — some old song that Will didn’t know the name to; Jane thought it sounded pretty. Will had told her that his mom and Hopper liked to talk and smoke together, but his face right now seemed… Weird. Not confused, not angry, not upset, just weird. Jane was going to have to find a word for it when she got home, or ask Mike about it later.

At first, when they’d heard Joyce’s laughter floating down the hall, Will had gone very still. And when Joyce had laughed again — this time, intermingling with a deeper but softer chuckle that no doubt belong to Hopper — Will had stood up and peered out of the door to the hallway, then he went completely quiet and still.

She’d shuffled her way over and squeezed by Will’s side to catch a glimpse of the sight that had made him go confusingly quiet. “Are Mom and Hopper… Dancing?” Will asked, almost as if he was thinking of the question but had accidentally said it aloud.

“Is that bad?” Jane asked, immediately taking Will’s confused and intrigued tone as something to be worried about.

“Huh? Oh, no,” he laughed, “nothing’s wrong.”

Looking back and forth between Will’s face and the two adults dancing together in the living room, Jane tried to piece together the situation with what little words and understanding she had of everything. “So… Is it good?”

After a moment of pondering, a small smile broke out on Will’s face as he watched him mom laughing and smiling freely (for real, not just to make him feel better) for the first time in weeks. “Yeah, it’s… It’s really good.”

Jane nodded in agreement. “I think so, too.”

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[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Brings Me Back

“We ran! We just ran!”

Let’s take a wild guess on which Jopper scene left the biggest impression on me in S2 :) This started out as a little bit of a ramble/me deconstructing the scene and working my way around an interpretation of a younger Joyce and Hopper friendship, then it became this! Hope you enjoy! (Read on AO3)

Strange, really, to think of the old days, when nothing really mattered. Nevertheless, Joyce couldn’t help but allow herself to be swept up in the wave of nostalgia and bittersweet memories that overcame her in the quiet moments. It was nice to indulge herself in such luxuries every once in a while, when things got tough.

She cast herself back to the eerily quiet schoolyard — an empty world that seemed almost out of place compared to the noisy scene one would usually associate with the open area — the way it always was when all the boisterous kids had even herded away into their classrooms. Joyce recalled with a smile the glassy-eyed stares of old classmates during those last few periods of the day, just waiting to be freed from the cramped classrooms and stuffy teachers. In a way, you could almost call the deserted schoolyard peaceful. Still, there were stragglers — why wouldn’t there be? She was one of them! — shuffling amidst the collection of parked cars that lined the pavement.

It was easy enough to sneak through the halls and past the buildings, finding yourself out in the open and away from the monotony of the classroom’s teachings. Most of the time, teachers didn’t give a shit and you could probably count on your classmates not to snitch (given that they weren’t skipping, themselves). In any case, the only torture the teachers could provide in lieu of skipping fifth and sixth period was the painful boredom of detention. Even that, as terrible as it would seem at the time, was survivable. You were guaranteed to get caught at least once or twice, but everyone got smart after that. Well, ‘smart’ was a generous way of putting it, but damn did it make them feel untouchable! What she’d give to have that stubborn bravery of her youth once more.

Even as one hand bounced nervously against her thigh, Joyce was always confident in her march across the empty schoolyard of Hawkins High, easily ducking under windows and keeping close to the walls when she had to. The path and all its obstacles were almost ingrained in her memories. All she had to do was walk. Every now and then, she’d throw a cautious glance over her shoulder, but really there was never anything to worry about so long as she kept light on her feet.

In all honesty, she probably could have walked the whole way with her eyes closed; Joyce was willing to bet that even now, some twenty-odd years down the road, she still could have done it. Just one more turn and there: The steps around the back of the school, thankfully devoid of any other skulking students. Maybe there was some other stomping ground for the no-good miscreants of Hawkins High, but the thought of seeking out some other sheltered haven never crossed Joyce’s mind back then. Either way, past residents had already left their marks with the cigarette butts that littered the ground and the streaks of ash that smeared the concrete. Joyce had always cautioned one last peek around the area before ducking under the steps. It never hurt in the long run to be just a little more cautious.

Usually, that in itself was enough — an instinct learned after one too many dull detentions, and from the fretful thoughts lingering at the corners of her mind — but every once in a while it simply wasn't enough. Joyce would never forget that day Mr. Cooper caught her and Hopper smoking under the steps.

Her fingers were tapping against the rusted support she leant against, drumming out a nervous tune as she stood waiting for what felt like a goddamn eternity. Come on, where is he, where is he, where is he? She was always first, used to always be the one waiting until the fateful day she simply stopped coming. That was just the way it always was: She’d tap out her anxieties for a few achingly long minutes, slowly drifting into her own flittering thoughts, and then — “Christ, Hopper! You scared the shit out of me!”

He would just appear out of thin air! As bizarre as it seemed, considering her parter-in-crime’s towering frame and broad shoulders, he had a way of dropping in completely unnoticed by her. On reflection, maybe she was just a little too wrapped up in her thoughts to realise; kind of a shitty quality for the self-proclaimed lookout to have.

On the days he jumped her, Joyce would smack Hopper square in the chest with a tiny balled-up fist. Hopper, without even flinching, would always laugh at that. That was another strange thing about remembering, realising that she hadn’t heard that deep, rumbling laughter in years. The thought made her heart ache.

“Gotta keep your eyes open, Joyce.” He’d warn jokingly.

She rolled her eyes at that, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She never realised back then how much he loved those moments, when she’d smile at him so sweetly. Perhaps part of her truly was playing up for the camera, but the fact that they never quite made it past ‘very good friends’ said otherwise. As he ducked under the steps to join her, Joyce threw one last glance over Hopper’s shoulder before her eyes were drawn to the pack of Camels he’d fished out from his back pocket.

Hopper barely had time to light the damn thing before Joyce would inevitably snatch the cigarette from between his teeth, taking a long slow drag before leisurely handing it back to him with a smug look plastered on her face. “So… Playing hooky again, Hop?”

It was one of their running jokes, the facade of obliviousness at each other’s constant presence and dedication to their shared smoke breaks. He’d always give her a look, halfway between amused and something else that she could never quite place, but he never said anything about it; Hopper just laughed, and plucked the cigarette from between her fingers, wading it between his teeth with a lazy smile. “I could ask you the same thing, myself.”

“Very funny.” She drawled, watching as a plume of smoke escaped his lips.

And that was how they would remain — most of the time, at least — exchanging friendly jabs at each other amidst the general silence. There was never really a need for words when they were together, Just the presence of each other was enough. And the shared pack of smokes, too. Sometimes she’d ask about his mom, then he’d ask about her dad. They’d laugh, sigh, and sink back into their comfortable silence before their stilted conversation would start all over again as if there hadn't been a ten minute lull that split their conversation right down the middle.

They’d just settled into one of their brief snippets of conversation, laughing quietly over some dumb story Hopper had recounted about something she couldn’t quite remember, when all of a sudden they were so rudely interrupted by exasperation at the youths of the generation turned to wrathful irritation.

“Hey, assholes!”

Joyce could have sworn she jumped a foot in the air at the sound of the booming voice that shook the once peaceful space in an instant. On that occasion, she’d instinctively grabbed the front of Hopper’s shirt and twisted it so tightly in her fist that, for the rest of the day, the fabric of his white shirt became hideously wrinkled just below the left armpit. Whipping her head around in one fluid motion, she caught a glimpse of an advancing Mr. Cooper brandishing a threatening fist as he came closer and closer. After a moment of fumbling, Joyce grabbed Hopper’s wrist with her free hand and jolted the cigarette from his fingers. “Run!”

And so they ran. She whisked Hopper away with a giddy peal of laughter as they dashed out from under the steps and tore down the paths towards the main buildings of the school. Not once did she relinquish her iron grip on Hopper’s wrist, nor did he as he twisted his hand to grab her own wrist in the midst of the chaos. Every now and then, when they came to a shuddering halt for a split second decision of which turn to take, his hand would come up and hover over her shoulder, poised to usher her forward if need be. And no matter how great his long strides were, she could always keep up.

Through twisting hallways and past silent classrooms they went, their footsteps clattering against the linoleum floor, unable to fight the euphoric whoops and frantic shushing that punctuated their sharp breaths. As lovely as the silence was, there was something so thrilling about the chase — tangled up in each other’s arms, huddling together in one useless hiding spot after the other — that brought the widest of smiles on both of their faces.

Joyce was almost winded by the force in which Hopper suddenly changed directions and pulled her into an empty classroom, slamming the door behind them with just a bit too much strength than was necessary. They pressed their faces to the small window in the door — Hopper’s chin digging into the top of Joyce’s head, their breaths fogging the window — in one last cautionary effort. It was only then, when they were satisfied that Mr. Cooper had given up the chase, that Joyce pried herself away from Hopper and fell to the ground with her back pressed up against the door. Her chest rose and fell with each gulping lungful of air, and she remembered thinking how she’d never ran so hard and fast in her life. “Holy shit…”

Hopper slumped to the ground next to her in an equally breathless state. For a moment, their eyes met and all of a sudden they were laughing again. They laughed, and laughed, and laughed until their cheeks hurt from smiling so brightly.

That was what they called ‘life-or-death’ back in the day. Simpler times.

After they’d finally calmed down and caught their breaths, Joyce vividly recalled the moment Hopper brought a hand down to squeeze her knee in playful reassurance before using it as a support to stand up on shaky legs. Yes, their friendship had always been something of a touchy one — with lingering hands on forearms, arms looped around shoulders and waists, and a playful shove or two — but she couldn’t quite stop thinking about just how warm his hands were when they caressed her skin. He must have said something to her when he offered her a hand, but she hadn’t heard it.

It was just a moment, one of many shared between them, that instantly passed as soon as Joyce had carefully tucked it away into a quiet corner of her mind for later contemplation that she never quite got to.

A moment quickly forgotten by the time Hopper had hauled her back on to her feet and caught her as she stumbled on the spot, laughing softly at the almost drunken wobbling that came with each step. And once again they’re pressed up against each other’s side arm in arm, somewhat lopsided due to the almost ridiculous height difference, stumbling out of the classroom on a mutual unspoken decision to skip the rest of the school day.

They could deal with the consequences of their antics tomorrow.

* * *

Most of their days weren’t so hectic or filled with brimming excitement that came with hallway chases and unquenchable laughter. Mostly it was just quiet chatter and prolonged silences that never lent itself to anything other than the closeness of their friendship.

And then there was one time, a time that felt like forever ago, when he’d leaned in and brushed his lips so softly against hers… Joyce had thought that he was going to tell her that he loved her. Strange, how clearly she could recall the smell of cigarette smoke on his breath, the closeness of their bodies, and the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something made him stop, pull away hesitantly with his gaze cast almost shamefully to the floor. I’m sorry, he’d said, best forget it. So she did, for a while, buried it away with all the other moments when he started seeing other girls and she started dating that scumbag Lonnie.

Now, however, she remembered it. And Joyce wondered if he did too.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

some unspoken thing

I know I know I know I should be writing a million things right now, but Stranger Things (and, by extension, Jopper) is the only thing keeping me sane amidst persisting wrist injuries, a never-ending tide of work, terrible writer’s block, etc etc...

They never really needed words, just the acknowledgement of each other’s presence when things seemed rough. The silence, and maybe a smouldering cigarette passed between two hands, was enough. Things felt simpler like that.

And things had always been just that between the two of them. Simple, but bearing of far more depth than one may realise on face value. Even way back when their biggest concerns were sneaking out of class to slip out to the steps, when the hounding teachers sent them into bursts of laughter as they dashed down the paths and hallways to get away. Just a jab or two at each other before they melted into that comfortable silence together. Yes, comfortable. That’s what it was.

In the midst of all the turbulence, it was these moments that were steady. He was… Steady. Hopper was a constant in an ever-changing world. And never in Joyce’s life did she ever expected him to be back there again, sitting across from her once more; both a little older, a little wiser, a little more broken inside. Once upon a time, even he was one of those shifting variables that ebbed and flowed throughout the events of her life; now it seemed that fate had once again brought them together. Strange how things turn out in the end.

It felt almost foreign, and yet so natural, to exchange worries and small comforts between them — punctuated by warm smiles and plumes of smoke escaping from parted lips. Quiet words and hushed double meanings, but never an ill-willed word uttered between them.

Through the stagnant and almost-happy year he was there, even when she suspected it hurt him most with those biting pangs of jealousy that nip at the corners of your mind when watching happiness you could only ever dream of. When everything went to hell and back all over again, there he was still there. Then when the pain of loss and longing gnawed at her heart and twisted her thoughts, there he stayed.

So, so much patience; a quality that seemingly never existed in her life before. She was always wrong, wrong, wrong. It was always too this, too that, just relax, don’t be a bitch, and this is why every goddamn thing goes wrong in your life. Compared to this, his solemn silence with its gentle push and pull: “Joyce you were right, you were right this whole time.” God, how amazing, how breathtaking, it was to hear those words. 

Even now, as she wept in shuddering breaths and soft mourning and he sat as a silent sentry across from her, she simply couldn’t find the words in her to utter the most genuine of thanks towards his patient kindness and soothing silence. Maybe it just was, and always would be, some unspoken thing between them.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard Characters: Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko Additional Tags: Reunions, Happy Ending, post-ME3, Destroy Ending, hence i was inspired, the mass effect soundtrack makes me so emotion, particularly the quiet piano bit of 'from the wreckage' Summary:

Over the three years they'd known each other, he’d watched her climb out from the remains of the Citadel Tower, listened to her dying breaths over a crackling comm, witnessed her impossible return to life, and stood helplessly as she charged towards a blinding beacon in a last ditch effort to save the world.

But of that could prepare him for seeing her, tired but alive, right before his eyes.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

an end, once and for all

Shepard leaned back against the raised platform, her head lolling back uncomfortably as she tried to settle into the awkward nook. Her whole body screamed with pain, her hands were slick with blood pooling from the cracks of her armour, and her ears rang in the heavy silence. Yet, despite it all, she felt at peace. Like the heavy weight that had been dragging her down for months on end had finally been lifted the moment she collapsed to the floor by Anderson.  

He’d long since gone quiet, and Shepard had long since stopped crying over the loss of her dear friend and mentor. Nevertheless, the pain still throbbed like a dull ache in her heart whenever she opened her mouth to speak to her unhearing companion.

With unfocused eyes, she watched the slow destruction of Earth and their collected fleets as the Reapers came crashing down upon them. Each splintered fragment of once mighty ships reflecting like shards of glass in the blazing sun looming behind Earth. Each frightful explosion billowing plumes of ashen smoke so high above the atmosphere, like ugly black marks marring a once perfect picture. As horrible as it was, she could not bear to look away. Soon, though, it would be over.

Somewhere out there, the Normandy was flying past, carrying its passengers safely away from the terrible scene playing out before her. At least, that was all she could hope for.

For if she were to die today, then at least let her friends succeed her and live in peace — in a world without fear, without the Reapers.

Shepard slowly closed her eyes, letting darkness and silence engulf her as the whole chamber thrummed with energy.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her as she lay slumped before the control panel — crushing and debilitating. For someone who had fought her whole life to be clinging onto that desperate will to live, Shepard had never felt so ready to let the darkness wash over her body and engulf her mind in comforting nothingness. Her work was done, all she needed to do was wait.

Now she could finally rest.

-----

Thank you Mass Effect, and thank you Commander Shepard -- for everything.

#happyN7day :)

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

WAIT i might be onto something here

i was going to write something for N7 day, but then writers block hit me like a goddamn truck and i literally cant make any words gel together ughhh

that being said… happy N7 day nevertheless, and thank you mass effect for the best adventures yet xx 

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

i was going to write something for N7 day, but then writers block hit me like a goddamn truck and i literally cant make any words gel together ughhh

that being said... happy N7 day nevertheless, and thank you mass effect for the best adventures yet xx 

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dishonored (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin, Corvo Attano & Emily Kaldwin Characters: Corvo Attano, Jessamine Kaldwin, Emily Kaldwin, The Outsider (Dishonored) Additional Tags: Angst, So much angst, mentions of torture, dh1, mainly corvo-centric with mentions of other characters, playing around with structure Summary:

Behind closed eyes were the images branded into his thoughts; slender frame lying on the ground like a broken doll, gasping for air in wet rasping breaths, clouded eyes staring at nothing, bleeding out from an ugly wound puncturing her torso.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

New chapter for ‘Keelah Se’lai, Pathfinder’ is up! 

You can read it here

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

She Is The First

ON QUEEN HATSHEPSUT’S ASCENSION TO PHARAOH 

---

I have known power longer than others — commanded my armies, dictated my policy, paid homage to our gods — so why, pray tell, should I not take my rightful place upon the throne?

A queen of Egypt no longer shall I be, but a king, the pharaoh, as was my father and his father before him. Such is my right as much as any man, or any son of Thutmose II. To don the false beard, to wear the Double Crown of Upper and Lower Egypt, and rest the crock and flail across my breast for all the heavens to see.

Does Horus, god of the sky, protector of pharaohs, stand by my side to ward away the evils my enemies wish upon me? Does he guard my reign and right to rule, in spite of the woman who takes the rightful place of a man?

If not Horus, I turn to Isis, mother of pharaohs, to protect and watch over me as she did when I was queen.

Does Amun, King of Gods, witness me as I sit upon the throne? Me, his god-wife and mortal consort, now ascended as I take my place as divine amongst men. Surely he must smile upon me, to bring the sun disk across the sky once more rather than to punish me with ill omens of darkness and decay.

No matter what I do, the gods will watch me; far above from the heights of the heavens, along the twisting banks of the Nile, and down below from depths of the land of the dead. Perhaps one day they shall judge me, weigh my heart and find me unworthy, only to feed my soul to The Devourer and be forgotten across the ages. In body and spirit, I shall be erased, but as I live they will not overshadow me.

I shall be the shining example of the people, a daughter of kings of gods and mortals alike. Perhaps they shall scorn me behind closed doors; exchange harsh words of criticism, directed to the woman who sits upon the throne. Perhaps in the years to come they shall dash away my name from the very history of the land itself, but they shall remember me.

They will remember me. My trials, my conquests, as Amun wills it.

The towering monuments to the sky, in my name, as the pillars of my reign. Temples to the humble, the divine, the mighty. Trade and business, an economy blossoming under the sun as we bask in the shared luxury of the lands. It shall be an empire to tremble at, brimming with prosperity and wealth unlike any before. To build upon the foundations of my ancestors and bring about a golden age like no pharaoh before. And when I am old and withered, entombed in jewels and gold, the people shall immortalise me upon the stone as I am. Though there are no words to describe the being I have become, they shall know of me: The woman who became king.

It is tradition I break, and shape to my will, from a time long since passed when Osiris, the first pharaoh, sat upon the throne. ’Tis I, and I alone, who holds the courage strong enough, as both woman and pharaoh, to bear the symbols of kings and ascribe the names of divinity upon myself as no other has done before.

And tomorrow when the people of Egypt lay their eyes upon the grand, sprawling metropolis of Thebes and stare up in awe at the might of the pharaoh as I ascend to divinity, they will know my name.

Hatshepsut, ‘foremost of noble women’, how apt.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Female Shepard/Tali'Zorah nar Rayya Characters: Female Shepard (Mass Effect), Shepard (Mass Effect), Tali'Zorah nar Rayya Additional Tags: Mass Effect 3, Established Relationship, kind of?, Fluff Summary:

Tali'Zorah vas Normandy had dreamed so many times before about how it would feel to watch the sun rise above Rannoch's horizon, but never once envisioned a scene quite like the one playing out right before her very eyes.

An alternate scene, I suppose, for ME3 (at the end of Priority: Rannoch)

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Female Shepard, Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard Characters: Shepard (Mass Effect), Kaidan Alenko Additional Tags: Angst, Sad Ending, Introspection, I suppose?, Unspecified Gender Shepard, lets all cry together about kaidan being left behind, tbh not entirely sure how to tag this Summary:

In which, at the end of all things, Kaidan reflects on all the things that could have been and all the things he should have said. If only there had been more time.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Mass Effect: Andromeda, Mass Effect Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Liam Kosta/Female Ryder | Sara Characters: Female Ryder | Sara, Original Quarian Character(s), SAM (Mass Effect), Cora Harper, Liam Kosta, Jaal Ama Darav, Vetra Nyx, Peebee (Mass Effect), Jarun Tann, Male Ryder | Scott, Original Salarian Character(s) Additional Tags: quarian ark, post-MEA, if bioware won't give us a quarian DLC then i'll do it myself, I'll add tags as I go along, liam/ryder isnt the main focus btw, girl's gotta find herself an ark! Summary:

"Repeating: this is the Ark Keelah Si'yah. The situation is not under control. Note and avoid until further updates. Repeating..."

Four months since the urgent, scrambled transmission from across the reaches of dark space warning the Initiative away from the Keelah Si'yah -- the quarian Ark, once thought to be delayed or destroyed by the Scourge -- but the source of the mysterious transmission still eludes the Initiative thus far. Now however, Nexus leadership grows restless and the search for the Keelah Si'yah and it's 100,000 passengers becomes evermore desperate with each passing day.

[littlewitchhazels-blog]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dishonored (Video Games) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Corvo Attano/Jessamine Kaldwin Characters: Corvo Attano, Jessamine Kaldwin Additional Tags: Fugue Feast (Dishonored), Pre-Relationship, Fluff, Slow Dancing, Pining, One Shot, i need some fluff ok, and flustered jessamine figuring out her feelings Summary:

"Jessamine felt it was necessary to never join in the dangerous dance of chaos and temptation. But on this night… She had the faintest desire to bend her self-laid rules, just a touch."