theivorytowercrumbles replied to your post “so i’m waiting on my TA’s email to send with the code i missed so i...”
blanche getting a cute gift for valentines
delineative replied to your post “so i’m waiting on my TA’s email to send with the code i missed so i...”
typical day at the lab?
xekstrin replied to your post “so i’m waiting on my TA’s email to send with the code i missed so i...”
favorite book?
Disclaimer that it's been... over a year since I was in a bio lab. Much more information about crystallisation and vacuum filtration in my head. So it's just a few half-remembered things from CMMB.
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There were moments that required a watchful eye and a steady hand, and any distractions ushered away, to ensure the proper amount of DNA and primer was pipetted, to watch fluid move slowly through gel—
—and then there was minding the centrifuges for hours, because they couldn't be left alone for too long at the higher speeds. Unless one didn't mind them sounding ready to fly apart.
But Blanche did, their researchers did, and their Pokémon's leeriness did nothing to assuage their worries that they wouldn't arrive to fire and ash in the morning. So when they needed overnight use, Blanche pulled rank and sent all their lab assistants to their quarters. After all, it wasn't like they all needed to stay awake for something that literally only required the touch of a button to fix, and a note in the appropriate observations folder.
Today only those who'd needed to come had done so, aside from Blanche, and they were happy to go. Blanche didn't begrudge them their eagerness. Cutting out some time to be with loved ones, or simply enjoying what the day had to offer was not a bad thing. Everyone had their own way of rest. That included Blanche.
Normally on these longer lab nights they ended up dimming the lights to a dull orange, and let their eyes rest in the near-dark. But drowsier than usual, they chose to wash their face and pull out the book of Johto myths Spark'd gotten them.
They were a quarter of the way when a soft cry drew their attention up and a frown to their face. Familiar, but it took a second to catalogue properly, because how could've one—
Two Eevees bound into view; tails flicked in obvious interest when they saw Blanche. Heedless of lab safety, they scampered in.
Candela came trot in on their heels, and Blanche sighed, let pages fall shut around a finger. "I should've known it was you."
"Yeah, consider yourself lucky." She shook a paper bag. "Brought you a very late but charitably warmed dinner."
"I can't eat in the lab."
She rolled her eyes. "Then come out here, nerd. When was the last time you stepped out to actually do that?"
Blanche chose silence on the matter to maintain some measure of dignity, not wanting to concede to her point. Instead they asked, "Did you come up to just give me this?"
"Nope." She cocked her head and gave Blanche a grin, and even before the words came out, Blanche braced themselves. "I was thinking we could have a nice Eevee-ning together."
Blanche doesn’t remember when exactly Candela decided they made the ideal spot for sitting, but they just… go along with it now.
It’s why they ordered the office chair they did, so Candela wouldn’t struggle to get her legs in the space between the armrests and Blanche’s hips and smack them in the face.
No headrest, too–Blanche usually ends up leaning forward in their seat, and the chair’s back accommodating the occasional rest is more than enough for them–and having that gone makes it easier for Candela to do her own thing.
She heartily approves when she swings by again.
So they sit as they almost always have, arms over, under, occasionally resting their heads against the other’s shoulders for strength, ever warm.
But seriously, competitive as can be, and also, like, the first of this post? Listen, after the first time Candela caught Blanche without a spotter, she didn’t let them anywhere near the fitness room for a month. So they became workout buddies.
Interrogation room, Detective Candela grilling Mob boss Blanche for information. In that AU you hate me for
It spun out on its own, again.
-0-
When Candela makes herself known, Blanche stirs in their seat, an eyebrow raised. "Detective, what a surprise. I was expecting Spark."
"He's got his hands tied up with another matter... unfortunately for both of us." Candela takes another swig of coffee from her thermos, grimaces--it's long gone cold--before sliding a picture over to Blanche. "Recognise them?"
Blanche spares the photo a glance. "Perhaps. I'm honoured you think I would."
Patience already thin, Candela barely keeps from snapping back. Settling into Blanche's rhythm would mean circling around answers for long, long minutes, and she has no time for it. So taking a breath in and counting to ten in her head, Candela answers impassively as she can. "Spark isn't here because this guy shot him outside his apartment."
Ever so slightly Blanche's fingers curl, before they start drumming them against the table. "This wouldn't have anything to do with his and your... pet project, Detective?"
"We don't know." Weary, Candela pulled out the second chair and sat in it with a sigh. "It's not like we can ask the others about it, either."
"You suspect someone... close might've had a hand in it."
"If only it were one."
"I did offer to take care of them for you, Detective."
"Forgive me for not accepting the uncertain favours of a mob boss," Candela mutters.
A huff and a tiny tug at the corner of their mouth, those are the only signs before Blanche's usual gravity returns quickly. They tilt their head. "Then why are you here?"
"Because things have changed. If they're actively going after me and Spark, I can't not use the few edges I've got."
"A practical choice. Very well then; I'll will assist you." There's another glint of humour, this time in their eyes. "I'll do my best to play by your rules."
blandela prompt: one of them wakes up first and admires the other while asleep :3
But I dared not move the pretty sleeping one
-0-
Candela remembers just why she picked her room when the sun wakes her in Blanche’s at six.
She groans and draws her arm over her face instinctively, intent on salvaging a few more hours of rest. But she meets unexpected resistance, pressure pinning her arm to the bed, and it’s then that she realises Blanche is close, asleep, and far more peaceful looking than usual.
Candela shakes her head in disbelief. “Now that, that’s just unfair.” She does not jostle them awake to free her arm though. Instead she pulls her hand in, as slowly and smoothly as she can manage.
But Blanche still stirs; their legs coming up, in, and they hold Candela in an airy grip until their breathing resumes its steady pattern. A couple stray strands fall into their face. Candela follows the line of them, then those that break in swirls on Blanche’s shoulders, neck, molding themselves.
Temptation presents itself to Candela then. Wake Blanche, not only to free her arm, but to see just what expression they would have under that layer of sleep. She grins, her fingers flex…
…and relax. She lets the strength in her arm slip away. The circles under Blanche’s eyes are impossible to miss, and Candela knows, just as she knows that it will be some time before she sees Blanche like this, that it will be another long night for them. They apparently need less to get by.
“You’re lucky you’re easy on the eyes,” Candela finally says, needing the last word in a one-sided argument. Then she settles down to enjoy the peace beside her.
And Blanche simply is, within the quietest dream of contentment.
Joined to the were AU, even more fragmentary than a flashfic.
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There are hands in your hair.
You blink away the last strands of drowsiness. When you try to push yourself up though, one hand leaves your head to press you back down. "Do you even know," a familiar voice asks, "when you went to sleep?"
"It's not like I keep one eye on the clock in the middle of a calculation."
"Don't get smart with me, you." Candela boxes your ear before she starts massaging your scalp. "Did you remember to eat some sort of dinner, at least?"
"Spark slammed some leftovers on my desk before he went ghost-hunting, yes. I don't suppose that was your doing."
"Maybe I mentioned you liked his steaks. Maybe I didn't. You'll never know."
thegreatersea answered your question:i had a long day (think 5:30 to 3:30,…
candela’s the one to overwork themselves for a change, and blanche takes care of them?
“You did not. Spend the entire night outside, in freezing rain, searching for an Egg.”
You would have denied it. Of course you hadn’t, it’d been only a few hours past sunset, and that was starting to come earlier, and you’d holed up in a shelter with your Flareon for the rest of it.
But you sneezed, and any chance of defense was blown away by the vaguely murderous and very irate look on Blanche’s face. “You’re going to be the death of me,” they mutter, before grabbing a fistful of your collar and dragging you into the kitchen. You bob in their wake.
It’d be funny, if it wasn’t mortifying as hell.
They toss you a container of Spark’s leftover pierogi (”Heat that up,” in the most no-nonsense voice you know aside from Mum’s), and while you do, they start warming a mix of milk, sugar, and cocoa on the stove.
“’s that for?”
“Isn’t it obvious? For you. Hot chocolate.”
You blink, raise an eyebrow. “You. Know how to make hot chocolate?”
They give you another Look, and you note that saying whatever jumps to mind right now might not be good for long-term survival. “I’ve lived this long, Candela. I think I know how to boil something.” They turn back to the saucepan.
Somehow it rings even more sharply in your ears. It gives you pause. You hold back any further commentary on their culinary skills to watch. Your eyes follow the lines of wayward strands of hair that have fallen out of Blanche’s usual ponytail, the singular one of slumped shoulders as they stir, and parallel etchings in their brow that you’re tempted to rub away, as they bring you the biggest mug in the cupboard.
“You were worried,” you say, and it comes with a quiet surprise that binds Blanche’s hand to the mug’s handle even as you cradle it.
And they look at you, and look, and you’re aware then of something unfamiliar lurking at the bottom of their eyes, bubbling up to the surface; part of you thinks that in a different sea you might be able to put a name to it, in the fire of your own mind you know this–
–and then they break away, pulling out a seat for themselves, sipping their own drink before answering.
As promised, writing stretch of ‘you’re a werewolf and it’s the cutest thing when I throw something and you have to restrain yourself from going after it’.
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There are certain perks to a werewolf friend.
Blanche is wonderful to have around when something needs moving. And getting through knee-high snow is so much easier on their back.
But in your opinion, the best perks are the ones they're not entirely in control of. Like their expression face right now.
It's gone as quickly as it comes, though, and their hands resume typing once more. The only sign of anything happening is a no-nonsense look to you. "Candela, throw it away properly."
"Ah, yeah, sure." Swinging yourself out of your seat, you take the few steps needed and scoop up the crumpled ball of plastic wrap, tossing it once more towards the trashcan.
And there it is again, the slight lift of their chin, their eyes tracking the path through the air.
You contemplate teasing. It would be so *fun*, seeing their face twist as they deny, realise, flush. But then they would stop, or at least do their best to. So you turn to your own work.
You might just tease about finding them curled on your doorstep instead.
