Wish me luck friends, while cleaning the shower yesterday and scrubbing at a mildewy area of the caulk I broke the caulk entirely so now I gotta run out and buy more caulk/strip the old shit out/clean under it/dry and re-caulk the shower today so we can take showers tomorrow
Fun fact: in the last place I lived we had two bathrooms, and we showered in the basement for something like six months to put off recaulking the main shower because neither of us knew how to do it and we were anxious about messing up...with one bathroom I just gotta do it
In that case the caulk developed a tiny hole that made water shoot out as if from a squirt gun onto the wall by the shower and I found this out by touching the wall while Enne was showering and having it squish under my hand 😖
I DID IT, the shower is recaulked, prayer circle that I did it well enough and I won't have to redo it in a month 🙏
(also I am so tired now)
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Now seems like a nice time to reflect on what I've written this past year! ✨ (I could pretend I'm going to do a one answer per like thing but I will most likely just answer as I have free time today no matter how many likes I get!!!)
1) I'm always drawn to romance where I can mix some big feelings and introspective moments with sex...hot-n-sweet isn't just a delicious wing sauce, it's my general writing philosophy
2) this is tough because writing felt harder than normal this year due to Life Stuff but probably a wild rose carved in stone was the toughest because it was not at all the type of fic I usually write! My first time digging into Hank's grief over Cole in a substantial way.
Time to start a new thread! This follows the events of the short fic Lilacs in Bloom I wrote earlier this year, which can be read here: archiveofourown.org/works/21327049… so if you haven't read it before you may want to do that first!
🌸🌸🌸
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The sprig of lilacs on Hank's desk wilts before he makes it back to the garden again; he isn't sure if it's because he forgot to change the water after the first day or if it's because they don't last long once they're cut.
Even so, he enjoys them for the few days he can;
it's nice to have a splash of color on his desk and a waft of sweet scent to greet him in the mornings when he drags his ass through the door. Nice, too, to have an excuse to think about the android--Connor--who handed them to him.
Hank still can't quite figure out what his deal
"Hank?" The voice on the other end of the call was wary, as if braced for bad news; Hank figured he'd earned that.
"Yeah," he said, and while he'd practiced what he was going to say beforehand, he found his mind a complete blank.
"You there?"
"Yeah," he repeated. "Hi, Maureen."
"Are you--is everything okay?"
Hank heard a low, murmured question in the background, and Maureen's muffled reply including the words "Hank," "I have no idea," and "I hope not."
"Everything's all right," he said, loud enough to cut through whatever conversation was happening.
"Oh!" The wariness had turned to confusion. "You're sure?"
"I could say 'what, I can't call up my ex-wife for a friendly chat?' but we both know I haven't been in the habit of it," Hank said. "I get it, it's probably weird to hear from me out of the blue."
"It's a little weird."
You ever think about the first time Connor sees Hank lounging around the house in old soft sweatpants with nothing underneath, realizes he can see the shape of his dick in great detail, and diverts all his processing power to a detailed scan for future study
I like the idea that Connor very quickly knows he likes Hank, that he wants to be around him and know him better, and that he *definitely* wants Hank to hug him again. As much as possible. He can't help but want to touch Hank, to be as close to him as possible. To be held by him.
But understanding the sexual component of his feelings takes a longer time. He understands the concept on a basic level, of course; his social protocols gave him enough context to flirt with Hank a little, when they first worked together, and he has a general understanding of
"Any time you want," Hank says, when Connor pulls away. "This kissing booth's always open, as far as you're concerned."
Hank figures once he sits down he won't want to get up again for a while, so he rummages in the fridge for some leftovers and parks his ass next to Connor on
the couch for the rest of the evening. They settle back into their comfortable groove from earlier, with Connor knitting and Hank either reading or half-watching tv while he pets Connor's feet propped in his lap. It still feels unreal, but the thought that this might eventually
feel like a normal part of his life, that kissing Connor and cuddling up with him will just be part of the flow of every day, helps ground him in the moment. He wants to pay attention and let himself experience it instead of getting caught up in confusion about why it's happening
Connor had wanted to see the stars. He could easily access star charts and high-resolution images from observatories all over the world, but it didn't feel the same as he imagined it would to watch the night sky himself.
Of course, it wasn't possible to see much from Detroit.
"You'll never see much around here," Hank said, when Connor mentioned wanting to stargaze. Light pollution had steadily increased over the previous decades, and even though Connor's eyesight was more sensitive than most humans', he couldn't make out much more than the brightest
stars in the sky, most nights.
"It's all right," Connor started to say, but Hank shut him down before he could finish.
"No it's not," he said. "You want to see stars? I know where we can make it happen, if you're up for a trip."
Connor was most certainly up for a trip, especially