[glassmermaids]

dove, she/her. nineteen. south african woc. multifandom. struggling student and world's slowest writer. minors please do not interact, nsfw content posted occasionally. requests welcome 𖹭

[main masterlist] ⊹ [guidelines] ⊹ [ao3]

RECENT WORK:

jack abbot blurb

cassie mckay blurb

firefighter!mckay

[patronsaintofweepingmothers]

"NEW ORLEANS, LA" (2006), GIUSEPPE SOFO

[moonandtrees]

[kitties-of-flickr]

[no title]

2003

[patronsaintofweepingmothers]

"JIJI TIRED" (2007), GRIMILDE GRIMM

[glassmermaids]

love her

[lamignonette]

[lamignonette]

[glassmermaids]

jack and his wife's after-shift routine

It takes a special kind of person to work the night shift as long as Jack Abbot has, but he's made it clear there's no place he'd rather be, even if some nights seem to stretch into an eternity and the feeling of daylight feels foreign to him after a while.

The night has worn him out completely, and the ache of fatigue settles deep in his bones, thrums in his joints and in a limb no longer attached to his body. You don't find him on the roof like you have many nights before, but in the locker room, sitting on the bench looking like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders and not just his trusty backpack.

It takes one weary look to tell you the kind of night he's had, and you only spare him an apologetic smile, not bothering to ask him if he's okay because he was going to give you a half-assed "I'm fine" regardless of whether he means it or not.

You help him stand and keep his hand in yours, savouring the small bit of intimacy you allow yourselves to indulge in when still at work. You notice the slight limp in his walk, the quiet wince he gives when he has to put his weight on the prosthesis again and you're already trying to remember if you have any muscle rub left in your bedside cupboard. He loves it when you work the ache out of his stub with your firm hands, but he almost never asks you to do it for him, still too scared of seeming like a burden.

You walk mostly in silence, the waking city acting as a backdrop to your thoughts. It's never a long walk anyway, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee and frying fat greets you when you finally make your way into the diner.

Most of the staff there know both of you by name now, and when you sit down you don't even bother looking at the menus. You always get a stack of pancakes with syrup and butter, and Jack gets a classic breakfast; eggs sunny side up and well done with extra crispy bacon.

You'll talk about how your night went, from every slightly combative patient to whatever workplace gossip you heard in passing and he'll listen to every detail as if he hadn't been there to experience most of it with you. He'll give you a few pieces of his bacon because you always look at his with a wishful look but never go as far as ordering some for yourself. And in return, he'll accept a big forkful of pancake practically shoved in his face and absolutely dripping in sticky syrup.

The walk back home from there is sluggish and unhurried, and Jack always makes an extra effort to soak up every bit of sun he gets while outside. Your apartment will greet you with the slight ticking from the radiator and a living room that hasn't been tidied in a good minute.

Jack takes the liberty of showering first while you take out whatever meal you had prepped in the freezer and place it in the fridge to thaw till the evening. You're in the shower right after he's done, and while you're busy, he gets started on cleaning his prosthesis.

You come out after a short while and join him silently, leisurely lathering your lotion into your skin as you watch him work diligently. When he's done, you usher him closer, making him lay down as you dig in your drawer for the muscle rub.

You heat it up in your hands, watching the way he practically deflates into the sheets as the tension of the day slowly leaves his body. You work at him with steady hands, smiling at the small sighs and grunts that leave him every now and then as you massage what's left of his leg.

Some nights, he'll return the favour by massaging the ache out of your lower back, but he's so exhausted he's basically asleep by the time you're turning around from putting the cream away, so instead you pull the blanket over both of your bodies before you're drifting off too.

[glassmermaids]

90's lois lane (inspired by this tweet)

[glassmermaids]

fic so weird it's got me researching kryptonian anatomy on reddit

[glassmermaids]

[himekokosu]

Cymbidium

[boschintegral-photo]

Orchid Kyoto, Japan

[lamignonette]

[codeblueberry]

The Night Shift, everyone

[alaricduval]

[theatricaldiagnosis]

Baby Jane doe, would've been such a compelling storyline with Dr. Collins. I miss her all the time. I felt her ghost this whole season.