(this awesome poster is the handiwork of our wonderful host @sazanes!!)
Note: So sorry for the delay in getting this out!! IRL has been a little tricky these days.
It gives us great joy to announce our third edition of the Hana Lee Appreciation Week!!
This year we are holding the AW around World Book Day (23rd April) in honour of Hana's passionate, long-lasting love for books!
Hana is talented at a great number of things, but is passionate about just a few. One is music - the other is reading. It was originally a hobby her parents introduced her to, to gain an advantage as a noblewoman, but Hana grew to love it far beyond what her parents expected. Her fondness for Jane Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, her delightful rebellions in secretly reading Wuthering Heights and manhuas, her adorable habit of leaving sweet notes behind, between the pages of a library book. Her love for books has deep and wonderful, and allowed her a window into worlds she didn't even realize existed!
But books and reading aren't our only themes for this AW! Take a look at our theme list for what we plan to do for each day:
April 21st - Character Appreciation/Throwback
April 22nd - Flowers/Fashion Design
April 23rd - Bookworm/AU
April 24th - Competitive Hana!/Culinary Love/Music
April 25th - Family/Friendship/Romance
This event will be held from April 21st to 25th. Any content is welcome, as long as it is Hana-centric and shows a positive depiction of her! Fanfic, fanart, meta, edits, moodboards, playlists, headcanons, interactive media - even simple appreciation posts and screenshots of fave scenes will be great!
It isn't absolutely necessary to post content only on the day of the theme! We often accept pieces even when sent on a later date, and also keep a bonus week in case you couldn't finish your pieces during the week. We also don't mind WIPs, so if you have one that is Hana-focused... we'd LOVE to see it!! We also love throwback pieces, so if you have any that you made previously, do reblog them and tag us!
We also will be accepting pieces after the event is over, and all year round until the next HLAW! So even if you have your post ready much later, please don't hesitate to tag us! 🤗
Blogs to Tag: @hanaleeappreciationweek, and hosts @lizzybeth1986 and @sazanes
Tags to Use: #hanaleeappreciationweek, #HLAW, #HLAW 2024
There are some incredible fan-community blogs that work tirelessly both to promote creative fandom works and make the experience fun for their writers! Do check them out!!
If you know any others who would like to be tagged, please let me know! Here are the amazing works sent in for 2023 and '22 if you'd like to get more inspired!
HLAW 2023 | HLAW 2022
See you all next month, and looking forward to all your amazing Hana content!! 🤗🤗
Summary: Over a year after she has settled in with her wife in Cordonia, why does Hana not feel the same joy when she reads??
Tagging @hanaleeappreciationweek and @sazanes for HLAW Day 3: Bookworm, @choicesficwriterscreations for FoTW and LGBTQ Archive, and @choicesmaychallenge24 for the theme "Athena: Wisdom".
Three months.
Hana stirs in her bed, frowning drowsily at the abandoned book on her bedside table. The thought is small, fleeting, a tiny grain of doubt that could be swept away in the wind. Yet it persists, in the harsh, too-bright sunlight streaming in from the French windows in her bedroom, reminding her that it's mid-afternoon; the time she typically would use to enjoy a cup of tea and a light read.
Hana allows herself a small smile as the figure next to her groans and inches a little closer to her, her arms still wrapped loosely around her waist. It's usually Kiara who gets up earlier from their afternoon siestas, teasing her over wanting to read "when your eyes aren't even half-open yet, chérie!"
On weekends, Kiara would encourage her to sleep in a little more. She knew Hana would appreciate the opportunity to binge-read cover-to-cover - perhaps re-read if she really liked the material.
It's been three months now since she's been able to complete a chapter, much less a book.
Hana stretches, catlike, before blindly groping for the book she'd left abandoned on the bedside table. The Crown and the Flame. It's an abridged version, one she'd carried from her childhood home and always found herself devouring in less than two hours...yet somehow she hasn't been able to move past Dominic Hunter's account of his first encounter with a young Princess Kenna at a Beltane festival.
Hana wishes she know how - when! - it had come to this.
When she got married to Kiara last year, it was almost as if the floodgates had opened on everything. Whatever Esther had predicted in that patisserie in Paris - maybe you're fated to be a prim, girly girl adventurer who has unknown depths just waiting to be found! - seemed to be on the cusp of becoming a reality.
Back home in Shanghai, almost every morsel of literature Hana managed to devour was a guilty pleasure; she'd hidden books in secret corners, savoured words and worlds unknown underneath the comforting cocoon of a blanket, uttered half-truths to keep the more scandalous material out of her parents' hands, weaved happy endings and bright futures for favourite couples and charactes, long after she had put the books down.
Hana wonders now if half the fun, back then, was in the secrecy. If half the comfort had come from sharing space with Father and Mother, and knowing they would never truly be able to capture the joy she experienced from reading or make it their own. There was a freedom in that - and for Hana, any freedom would be a luxury to be savoured, like a bonbon from a visiting relative, savoured bite by tiny bite just so the pleasure could last a bit longer.
That shift in circumstances when she married Kiara, had been overwhelming. And perhaps the way she had just gone rogue the minute Kiara gifted her her own personal library, was to be expected.
No rules, no restrictions, no restraints on what she could or couldn't read. The cocoon of her blankets gave way to the vast expanse of her library, with its wide welcoming spaces, its winding staircases, its comforting, velvet seats that allowed her to sink into them, whenever she felt like having a reading marathon.
(Which was often).
Hana had spent so much of her childhood looking over her shoulder as she devoured her books, that the idea of just reading whatever the hell she wanted felt overwhelming. But she grabbed it. With both hands. And embraced the prospect. With all her heart. Hours and hours perusing over every possible scrap of reading material she could find - history, mythology, mystery fiction, true crime, even gothic horror (which she didn't expect to wholeheartedly love the way she does now!).
Whenever the two of them got even a sliver of free time, Kiara would come to expect that Hana would suggest sneaking into the library first.
(For a reading session? To ravish each other against the bookshelves, sending an entire pile of French Renaissance literature tumbling to the floor? Both possibilities held equal appeal)
Hana would even give the occasional gossip rag the once-over, though the abysmal editing and the awful typos made her grit her teeth on occasion.
It was glorious. Novels, poetry, essay collections, her favourite mythological retellings. There was nothing Hana wouldn't read; this library was her oyster. Some evenings when Kiara came home later than Hana did, she wouldn't even bother searching anywhere else in their manor - she'd just make a beeline to the library.
That was a year ago.
Wearily, Hana places a bookmark (handmade, laminated, with pressed dried flowers she had selected herself) on the very page she'd opened, letting out a soft sigh. It's almost as if - after the exhilaration of reading whenever and whatever she liked - her brain has decided it's had enough, and has shut down.
In the first two weeks of this strange predicament, Hana had tried to put it down to different things. Overwork, or the aftermath of juggling all her new roles and all the new skills she'd managed to learn. Perhaps her reading has suffered because she doesn't have the time.
But she knows in her heart that that isn't quite true. Hana isn't sure she has been as free in her life as she has been these past few months. Her calendar has been freed up considerably; she's managed to have more romantic dates with Kiara in the past month than they'd had all year. It can't be a lack of time or even general fatigue, because these days she doesn't do much else that taxes the mind.
No - she has the time. She has the resources - thanks to Kiara, far too much of the resources. And there's no question that she has the desire to keep reading. She just can't ever bring herself to finish.
As she places the book, dully, back on the bedside table, Hana feels a slender arm snaking its way around her waist, a chin nestling against her shoulder with a murmur of approval.
"Mon ange," Kiara whispers, her voice rough, grainy, deep, like freshly-ground coffee. She plants a kiss on Hana's shoulder, lacing their fingers together.
Lazily, Hana turns in Kiara's arms and moves her hands so she can lightly finger her curls, marvelling at how soft they feel in her hands. Kiara takes a long, hard look at Hana as her vision clears, probably wondering what she's hiding. Hana wishes her wife wasn't so good at guessing when something doesn't feel right.
She tries hard to school her features into something more neutral - more fitting for someone who just woke up and wasn't ruminating over something she has lost - but Kiara has never been that easy to fool.
"Everything's okay?" Kiara says, "You've been looking a bit...off for the past few weeks."
Hana looks down, pretending to busy herself with the crocheted fringes of the blanket. Could she laugh it off? Claim that her wife is probably overthinking, that she is worrying over nothing?
Because in the grand scheme of things, it is nothing. She's been doing well. She's never been happier than she is now - she has a home, a purpose, a wife she is madly in love with, passions that she's never felt more free to pursue!
She curses herself as she begins to feel that tell-tale burn in her throat. Struggling to read a book shouldn't affect her this much.
She looks up at Kiara, and almost begins to lie. But Hana knows she's not the best of liars, that most times her eyes give her away. Kiara's fingers are already moving towards the corners of her eyes, brushing the teardrops away.
Hana sniffles. "It's silly."
"Humour me," Kiara nudges her gently. "I don't care how stupid it sounds."
Hana sighs, and tells her. Midway through it all, Kiara props up two pillows against the bedstand and gets them to sit up, Hana safely ensconced in her arms. She tells Kiara everything. How much joy she'd had every time she'd picked up a book. How that joy would spring up double fold if it was about something she barely understood. How easy it was, a year ago, to speed-read the first time, then savour re-reads. How - whenever she felt a little bit naughty - she'd read a book backwards, from the last chapter to the first; giggling as she came to the beginning of the book knowing how it would end.
How...of late...she can find no fun, no joy, in turning to the next page - much less the end of a book.
"It's a stupid, stupid thing to worry about," Hana rails on, "I can just imagine my people at Krysanthe looking at me and shaking their heads and thinking 'oh, the Duchess and her first-world-problems'."
Kiara laughs gently, snuggling Hana closer to her. She passes a small handkerchief to her free hand. "That's all of us, with our people. And they're not completely wrong - of course our lives have always been far better and easier than theirs...most times through their labour. But that doesn't mean that you have to ignore things that confuse or distress you, ma moité." Her hand caresses Hana's shoulder in an attempt to give comfort. "And learning that a pastime so beloved no longer gives you the joy you always got from it...is bound to confuse you."
Hana blows her nose into the handkerchief. "I think a part of it is that...I'm beginning to wonder if I was lying to myself about loving reading books, this whole time."
She takes a deep breath, running her hands back and forth over the soft blanket for comfort. "And if I did...what else have I been lying to myself about? What else will I find I don't like, now that my parents can't dictate the way I live my life? Fashion? Poetry? Music??" Hana takes in a deep breath, almost shocked at the things she's revealing because she hardly ever allowed herself to dwell upon any of this before, much less say it out loud. "What if there's nothing that I liked that I can't put down to parental pressure? What if I keep unraveling, and peeling off, everything I thought I was and find that I'm...well...nothing?"
For one moment, Kiara's eyes seem to search her face, frowning deeply. Then her body goes slack, only her hands enfolding her in a tight, comforting hug. She sighs softly against Hana's hair. "Oh, Hana."
For several minutes, Kiara says nothing - just cradles Hana in her arms, rocking her back and forth, her hands moving in a light caress up and down her spine. When she feels Hana go calmer, she moves her hands to her face, cupping her cheeks.
"What you're facing right now...that's something almost every book lover will have gone through, sometime or other. Especially if their passion was something they had to keep a secret, and they suddenly find that they're no longer bound by any rules or restrictions."
Hana raises her eyes to Kiara's face. "Even you?"
Kiara laughs. "I'm not exactly as passionate about reading as you are, but I've seen that fatigue in Baba often. And I've faced that often with my translation work too. It's what happens when you haven't learnt yet how to regulate your passions. You do too much, you overtax your mind. And maybe this phase...maybe it's your brain and your body screaming for you to find a little bit of balance, darling."
It's now Hana's turn to frown. "What do you mean?"
Kiara's eyes dart upwards, in that way it does whenever she is pondering deeply over the best way to convey a thought. And then she suddenly smiles, almost as if she's found the perfect way to get it across. "You do love chocolate, don't you?"
Hana takes a long, hard look at Kiara's face, then bursts into delighted laughter. "Well, it's impossible to argue about or deny that!"
"What if you gave yourself unlimited access to it...no restrictions, no holds barred, allowing yourself to have as much of it as you've wanted all the time? Would it always taste the same?"
Gazing into her wife's face, Hana marvels at how perfect this analogy is. How fitting. "Of course not. I'd maybe even grow a little sick of it at some point!"
"Does that mean you'd been lying to yourself about loving it this whole time?"
Hana throws back her head and laughs, a full-throated joyful sound this time. "You could even say I'd probably get back to remembering how wonderful it tasted if I spent a little time away from it."
Grinning, Kiara bumps her forehead playfully into Hana's. "Only a bookworm would understand a metaphor that quickly. I wasn't even halfway through explaining that."
Hana slips her hands into Kiara's curls again, just the way she knows her wife likes it. She lets out a watery giggle. "That's very nice to hear."
Kiara exhales and shakes her head. "So much has changed for you, Hana. And it isn't your fault that you found freedom in a thing you loved and pushed yourself into it so much. It's natural for someone who was expected to live her entire life on someone else's terms." She holds one of Hana's hands tight within her own. "When we got married, you approached your reading the way a child would approach a shop full of bonbons for the very first time. Now you're learning the more adult way of doing it - enjoy it... but never too much all at once."
Smiling, her eyes a tiny bit watery, Hana gently cups her wife's chin. "So wise, for one so young," she teases gently.
Kiara playfully punches her arm, pursing her lips in muffled laughter. "Stop sounding like my Baba and act more like my mrati."
In higher spirits now, Hana gives Kiara a quick kiss, then makes a move to get off the bed. "All this talk of chocolate is making me hungry. What do you say I make us a mug each of my special hot chocolate, now that it's almost teatime?"
Kiara smiles, sighing in relief. These are not the words of a woman who is trying to move away, unsuccessfully, from thoughts that disturb her, or an attempt to change the subject. Just a sign that her intrusive, self-flagellation thoughts are moving in a different direction. A better direction.
She nods, eagerly. "Hayati," she says, giving her wife a saucy grin, "when have I ever said no to your hot chocolate?"
--
Translations:
Ma moité - French for "my other half"
Hayati - Darija/Arabic for "my life"
Mon ange - French for "my angel"
Baba, Mrati - Moroccan Darija terms for addressing one's father and wife, respectively
A/N: Post the pandemic I've been struggling a lot with my reading, and had a lot of the same questions my Hana had running in my head. I guess this fic was an attempt to make sense of that, but using Hana's post-marriage context as a springboard.
Pairing: Famous baker Hana Lee x master chef turned baker Raelyn Zane (nonbinary OC)
I decided to combine both Competitive Hana and culinary into one fic. Hana is one of the world's famous bakers, winning all sorts of awards and even had her own show. The problem is that annoying master chef Raelyn Zane is slowly infringing onto Hana's territory. In a competition with all other opponents defeated, it's down to just Hana and Raelyn. Can Hana stay on top? Or will Raelyn's flirtation be her downfall?
"And the clock is ticking folks! Our two finalists are going head to head in this final round of who is Cordonia's best baker!" Carson's voice and the studio audience's cheers were mere background noise to Hana as she quickly went to the cupboards to gather her ingredients. Flour, baking soda-Hana's train of thought abruptly crashed to a halt at the feel of her rival behind her.
Raelyn pressed up behind her, one hand on her hip, their front pressed all along her back as they reached over her head to grab the brown sugar on the top shelf. Hana spun around and Raelyn grins that maddening grin.
"Just need some sugar, sugar." Raelyn winks and backs away. Hana huffs
"There's sugar all the way over there." Raelyn just grins and casts a lazy glance where Hana is pointing.
"Ah. So there is." Raelyn says before turning back to their station. Hana takes a deep breath and hurries back to her station. She refuses to let that infuriating, cute baker get in her head.
The time seemed to fly as the two culinary geniuses worked on their masterpieces. At one point Hana's eyes drifted over to her rival and she marveled at Raelyn's intensity and steady hand as they encased their dessert in meringue. Feeling her eyes on them, they looked up and immediately their facial features softened, the two rivals getting lost into each other's eyes.
"Uh oh, it seems like our two rivals are staring each other down!" Carson's voice shattered the moment and Hana quickly looked back at her work of art, shaking her head to clear it. Their time was almost up!
Soon the audience was counting down the timer.
"4...3...2...1!"
"Alright contestants! If you would please stop and present your desserts to the judges." Carson announces. Soon Hana was carefully sitting her croquembouche tower next to Raelyn's elegant dessert. Hana's heart sank as she eyed Raelyn's perfect looking baked Alaska. Lemon meringue was the most challenging dessert for her and Raelyn's work looked like a master piece.
"What do you have for us contestants?" One of the judges ask. Raelyn nods at Hana to go first.
"My dessert is a croquembouche. A French dessert made up of cream-filled profiteroles stacked together in the cone shape, you see before you, and then caramelized." Hana says proudly.
"It looks beautiful Miss. Lee. What about you Mx. Zane?"
"My dessert is a baked Alaska. A layer of sponge cake topped with chocolate ice cream and raspberry sorbet encased in meringue and baked in the oven." Raelyn states.
"A very elegant dessert, Mx. Zane." Yvette Flynte, one of the judges says before they all dug into Hana and Raelyn's desserts. Hana and Raelyn stood tensely as the cameras panned across their faces and the judges whispering among themselves.
"We've come to a decision. First off Mx. Zane, your baked Alaska is beautiful. The flavors are complimentary and are perfect together. The only problem is that it has no soul. I've taste tested many of your other dishes Mx. Zane. Your consomme devilish dish is one of the best I've ever had, dare I say, better than mine. Until you've capture that spark that you have with your main course dishes, your desserts will always be lacking." Yvette Flynte says. Raelyn looks down at their feet for a moment before looking back up with a soft smile.
"Thank you Miss. Flynt for your feedback. I'll definitely keep that in mind."
"Now Miss. Lee. This is the best croquembouche I've ever had. The cream filling is different but flavorful, the profiteroles crisp but light to perfection. That is why Miss. Hana Lee...you are this year's winner of the Cordonian Bake-Off!" At this confetti falls from the ceiling and the audience goes wild. Hana gape at the judges who stand up to shake her hand. She looks back at Raelyn who is proudly clapping for her and mouths to her, "good job". Afterwards everything is a blur as the judges present her trophy and she makes her winning statement.
It isn't until she's alone backstage when Raelyn walks into her room.
"Hey congrats! That's one big shiny trophy you got there." Raelyn says walking up to Hana who blushes.
"Thank you. Second place isn't a bad accomplishment yourself." Hana says, Raelyn shrugs.
"It was never really about winning the competition, I mean don't get me wrong. I wanted to win, mainly to impress you but..."Raelyn trails off suddenly unsure of themselves.
"But why? What made you compete then?" Hana asks.
"I mean, broadening my horizons, challenging myself and learning new things is kind of my jam. But mainly I joined this competition to be able to join your circles. I wanted to make an impression on you."
"You definitely made an impression on me. Mainly an annoying one." Hana says heart thumping in her chest. Raelyn wryly rubs the back of their neck.
"Yeah, probably not my best work. I'm sorry. Can we start over? Maybe collab some time?" Raelyn asks nervously.
"Perhaps. Only if you kiss me." Hana says shocking even herself by her boldness. Raelyn lights up and immediately brings their lips together. When they pulled back they have that once maddening now endearing grin on their face.
"What?" Hana asks
"Perhaps I left a different impression on you than just annoyance." Raelyn says smirking, Hana rolls her eyes and grabbing them by the lapels kisses them again.
For Day 3, I chose Bookworm cuz its Book Day or something so might as well choose it! So I drew Hana reading in bed 💗 Something very simple as that, she deserves some time to herself before some big day!
Hana turned the words over in her mind. She hadn’t known Riley for long, but Hana had gotten the impression that she was careful about the way she chose her words. And Riley had been impressed tonight; her eyes and the way she had leaned in close, listening with rapt attention, had said as much.
Haunting and beautiful, were the words she had used to describe Hana’s composition, but she had chosen to part with words of gratitude.
Hana finished washing her face and straightened as she patted her face dry. She looked at herself in the mirror, free of makeup, hair swept back. Her own eyes held her in place, imploring.
Hours ago she would have said that she had invited Riley to the parlor because they were becoming friends. Maybe she would have even admitted that she felt safe with Riley. Riley was a breath of fresh air. When she asked Hana questions about herself, she was actually interested in knowing who Hana was, and not just where Hana fit into the game of chess that everyone else in Hana’s life seemed to be playing.
Maybe that’s why she had chosen to play her own composition for Riley. She had written it at such a lonely time in her life, maybe she had always wanted to be seen and heard.
Hana stood and made her way to the bed. She pulled back the covers and considered how much she loved to play, so much so that she couldn’t bear to be coerced or cajoled into putting herself on display.
She slides into bed but sleep doesn’t yet come. She turns over and and looks out into the night sky, through the space between the curtains. Her parents had always wanted her to play Chopin, Mozart, Vivaldi. And Hana had loved it until she realized that it was just a commodity, prestige for prestige’s sake that so many people valued, while Hana knew that the girl pretending to play piano keys in the pond was just like those composers, so full of music that they had to knit the notes together.
“Thank you for sharing your music with me,” Riley had said. Not praises for her excellent taste or admiration for hitting every note perfectly, but gratitude. “Are you sure you want to play for me?” No demands. Because Riley understood what music meant to Hana, after only knowing her for a handful of days.
Hana turns onto her back, stretches her hand out and taps her fingers against the duvet. It’s been too long since she’s composed.
