1 - 20 of 55 Works by hanap
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“You know,” Caleb says to the ceiling, “we will have to tell the Nein eventually.”
Essek tenses against him. “Tell them what, exactly?”
“That we are… I don't know. Whatever this is.”
[In which the assistant professor of civil law at Soltryce Law School reserves a few hours of his Conthsen evenings for the youngest partner of Kryn Mirimm Thelyss & Associates, and still finds himself wanting more than he should.]
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A house of his own.
The thought slams into Caleb with the force of a sledgehammer, the enormity of it nearly knocking the breath out of him. It's over twice as large as the cottage where he'd spent his childhood—a kitchen separate from the dining room and the sitting room! Not one, but two bathrooms! And best of all, three whole bedrooms! Enough space for Caleb, his books, and whichever of his friends would deign to visit him. The height of luxury indeed. Back then, Bren’s parents could only afford one bedroom, and young Bren himself had slept in the loft. Frumpkin would curl up on the foot of Bren’s mattress, and he'd wake to the smell of breakfast, the early morning light in his eyes, the rafters brushing his hair when he got up.
Or so it had been once, an entire lifetime ago.
“Veth,” he says.
She looks up at him. Then she grins. “Isn't this exciting?”
“I think so,” Caleb says, a split second too late.
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“Caleb,” Essek asks in an undertone, as they walk away from one window, its festive display festooned in so many colorful sparkling lights that the very sight makes Essek’s eyes water, “if there is something you want to buy, then why not just buy it?”
“Too expensive,” Caleb demurs, the denial so prompt it cannot be anything but reflexive. “Besides, I don't need it.”
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It's a nice day. They can take their time. Essek will be asleep for a while yet.
[In which the Mighty Nein get ready for a baby shower.]
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Genevieve Lavorre, aged eighteen, chances upon a collection of Dynasty poetry in a used bookshop in Nicodranas and decides on a whim that she wants to write to the author.
[Or: how Jester Lavorre and Essek Thelyss fall in love well before they even meet.]
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If Essek's regular coffee shop next door hadn't decided to close down without a single word of warning, he wouldn't be here at all. What is this place even called? He squints down at the menu again. The Blooming Grove, it announces at the top. Light, it is too early for such bright pink letters.
[Or: a series of purchases made at a nearby coffee shop.]
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“Slowly,” Lae’zel says, and Shadowheart obeys.
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“You said.” Caleb takes a deep breath. “You called me. Your partner.”
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Right. Okay. Holy shit. Beau’s at a complete loss. It's the middle of the afternoon on a perfectly ordinary Yulisen, and one of her best friends has gone and turned himself into a toddler.
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“I am outside. May I be permitted entry, Mister Thain?” Caleb murmurs to the wire. “You can reply to this message,” he adds quickly.
A familiar laugh ripples through the wire, warming Caleb to the core. In lieu of an answer, the doorknob clicks open, and a pair of bright eyes peers through the crack.
“You are late.”
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“Patia, what if you took a break? Just for tonight?”
The odd smile lingers on her lips. “What do you call what we’re doing?”
[In which Loquatius has a late-night drink with Patia.]
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Kingsley’s nearly at the corner when he hears a door creak open. The wind carries a whisper to his ears.
“Lucien?”
[In which Kingsley discovers that the last occupant of his body had a younger sister.]
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Beau rolls her eyes. “Okay. To recap, you’re sending the Bright King—”
“Queen,” Caleb interrupts. “The Dynasty ambassadors state that their people prefer to retain the word in Common regardless of the gender of the actual monarch holding the title.”
“Queen,” Beau says, relenting. “Anyway. You’re sending a lock of hair as part of your marriage proposal to the Bright Queen?”
“The Dynasty does not do marriage. You know how it is,” Caleb says firmly. His cheeks are growing pink. “What I am offering is a long-term alliance between two nations.”
[In Blumenthal, to send a lock of hair is a gesture of devotion. In Rosohna, to receive a lock of hair is a declaration of war.]
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“You have a son,” Essek says flatly. “And this is how you decide to tell me?”
Verin shrugs, helpless. “Well, I couldn't leave him by himself.”
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this garden of devotion by hanap for lookitsstevie
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
29 Dec 2022
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“The flowers are so pretty,” Warlock says, pointing out a perfect rose on the stem.
“If they are, it isn’t because of the gardener,” Nanny says, with all the grim resolve of an executioner.
“Nanny,” Warlock tries again. “They’re the exact same color as your hair.”
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Deirta manufactures an image of domestic peace—her youngest child feigning sleep in her arms as she puts a book away—before the mob bursts into the library. Its circuitous, winding bookshelves buy her enough time for one last spell to modify Essek’s memory, sealing away his recollections of den Thelyss, of Verin and Taldia, of herself.
Verin is spirited out of Rosohna, leaving his younger brother behind, right before the Bright Queen orders den Thelyss to be razed to the ground. When Verin returns, he discovers that there is no one in Rosohna who bears the name Essek den Thelyss. There is only Essek den Kryn.
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Beatrice had always been alone. In her own space, or the closest thing she could get to it, even in those bedrooms that had only ever nominally been hers.
And now, here she is with Ava. In this tiny flat somewhere in the Alps that has only one bedroom. With only one bed.
“Wow,” Ava says, so delighted she's nearly vibrating with excitement. “We’re going to be roommates!”
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“Caleb Widogast—”
“Essek—”
The look that passes between them is charged by so much emotion that Essek has to swallow before he can speak.
“Please, go ahead.”
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Essek's hand settles on his belly, rubbing in small, uncertain circles. An idle gesture, but one that strikes Caleb as achingly vulnerable, though he can't quite put a finger on why.
“I would do anything,” Essek says, low and fierce, “for all of us to have a little more time.”
[In which Essek joins the Mighty Nein in the fight against Lucien--but none of the Nein know that Essek is pregnant with Ludinus's child.]
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Beau's watching you from the doorway, arms crossed tightly around her middle.
“Babe,” she says, her mouth contorting.
“I just,” you say, and hesitate. “I’m not very good at keeping things alive.”