#blancperfumes

[mister-bloom]

@blanc-perfumes cont. from [x] Typically, when you’re grabbed from behind while walking through an area such as The Bowery, panic is an appropriate response. Getting grab often meant you were about to be mugged or held hostage for some ridiculous ransom [ or a lure for a bat ;; it depended on who was grabbing you ]. So when Sylvester felt a hand clap over his mouth, followed shortly by another wrapping around his waist to yank him into a nearby nook, he panicked.

His hands instantly went to the one grabbing his face and he dug his nails in deep - so much so that it would be a shock if he didn’t draw blood from the wounds he made. Thank whatever was above that he found enjoyment in keeping them sharper than the average.

But, when the figure didn’t let go, and rather seemed to draw him in closer, he did the next best thing - he dropped all his weight down and went limp in their arms.

Thank whatever was above, as well, that Sylvester could be heavy when he desired.

This guy just keeps popping up, doesn’t he? Now’s not a good time. Especially with the direction he was heading, guess he didn’t know what he was walking into. A criminal that Bloom had tracked down to offer a seed to was very nearby, no telling if they’d like visitors while they were working but Mister Blanc would not be a great candidate to find out.

The nails digging into him is expected but not particularly minded. Pulling him closer in some absent attempt to encourage Sylvester to settle down perhaps.

Bloom compensated by curling forward to keep a decent hold on him as he sank down in his grasp, the reaction would almost seem childish if it wasn’t completely warranted considering the circumstances. Still he can’t help the little chuckle that flits from him. Readjusting and pulling Sylvester’s head back till it met his own shoulder.

“Hello again, Mister Blanc.” he whispers against the shell of his ear, amusement present in his voice even as his palm stays in place over his mouth. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.”

“Can you stay quiet? It’s in your best interest.” Only once he got confirmation, and Sylvester made an effort to stand on his own does he finally let his hand slip away from his mouth, the one around his waist staying just to ensure he didn’t just walk back out in the open.

[queryxecho]

@blanc-perfumes - Starter Call 

Follow the mysterious tunnel in Pandora’s they thought. What’s the worst that could happen they thought. Well, of all the things they thought they didn’t think they’d end up in the bottom of Sylvester's shop. Coming up the stairs Echo put her hands up in mock surrender as soon as they were spotted. 

“Don’t shoot, sugar, it’s us.” Echo put her hands down to grab her partner’s hand.

“We can explain. Though you might need to help.” 

[soleiltm]

@blanc-perfumes liked this post!

❛ I've been listenin' to the same album on repeat for 'bout a week now. And, I 'unno if I'm eva' gonna stop 'cause it's pretty bitchin'. ❜

[thedarkempath]

@blanc-perfumes

  “Ah---!” It takes everything in her to keep from collapsing into the store; stab wound in her leg, bruises, cuts, hands stained with blood---- The hitman may not have killed her, and she is already bleeding out in the store, but Sylvester would certainly finish the job if she got anything on his glass cases----  The room is spinning and she has to shake her head in an attempt to clear her vision. Well, this was one way to make an entrance.

“You... you wouldn’t happen to have anything for injuries, would you?”

[influencedbyfear]

@blanc-perfumes liked for a starter  

      Jonathan graduated from the unbridled hostility, years ago. Far from a stage of reformation, the former doctor treats his visitor with a long stare. The face is familiar, but tender blurs in his vision often leave him second guessing. 

     “How have you avoided the cowled abomination?”

[fearprophet]

    Oh, the pain. If Jonathan could avoid any of those feelings - all those warm, burning sensations on his chest, stopping his blood from moving all over his body, paralyzing at most of the man’s words and having to think perfectly, the words to say, the actions to do.

    If that was anything close to being in love, it’s fucking horrendous, and it certainly wasn’t worth half the trouble.

     And that’s exactly what Sylvester was: TROUBLE. The small glimpse of happiness, of comfort and love he transmitted, didn’t tower over the fights, lies, the danger, the constant alert Crane forced himself to be at all the times.

    Still, those small weak moments were enough to make him stay: he isn’t eager for much more, he’s usually quite content with so little, but it’s just something he can’t quite figure out yet.

      And he tries to not think much about it: the more he does, the more stressed and confused he gets. Labels were absolutely off the table, he made it very clear ( not with words, but gestures ) and at the same time, that decision only made things worse.

     He didn’t know what he wanted.

     Jonathan can no longer concentrate on his book: his doubts were flashing before his eyes as he straightens up and breaks the comfortable silence ( funny how they seemed to be more comfortable in absolute quiet - words were wood to the fire ) as he takes a deep breath.

     ❝ — I’m not feeling so good. ❞  I want to go home, he should say, but he doesn’t want to be away from the blond siren.

@blanc-perfumes / ♥’d for a starter.

[rumask-moved-blog]

          there’s  no  one  more  intimate  with  the  meaning  behind  facades.  the  ability  to  deform  your  whole  person  and  twist  it  to  one’s  likes;  can  be  physical,   can  rest  within  your  grip,  yet  the  greatest  majority  only  takes  tighter  lips  and  a  good  liver.  sometimes  it’s  just  a  different  tone  to  your  voice,  and  sometimes,  they’re  hard  to  keep  on.  for  that,   he  applauds  him.  not  to  mention,  any  whack  job  with  a  hobby  such  as  this  has  a  weak  embrace  around  prudence—  inattentive  of  roman  if  there  were  no  credit  given.  he  snatches  the  box  from  his  hands,  fixates  on  it  and  shakes it  up.      ‘  it’d  be  just  peachy  if  you  told  me  you’re  in  for  something  real.  you  know,  these  aren’t  my  sort  of  jobs.  this   was  more  like  a  trial.  having  a  reach  to  someone  in  for  this  level  of  fucked  up,  that’d  be  you,  and  wasting  it  on  low  rank  brain - donors  instead  of  going  for  the  big  fish   is idiotic.  ’      the  perfume  bottle  comes  out  of  its  cover  once  more  before  lobbing  a  few  squirts  into  the  air  amid  them.  sniff,  sniff.      ‘  if  in  life  you  smelled  like  kielbasa,  jimmy,  dunno  why  i  thought  now  it’d  be  any  better.  ’

@blanc-perfumes ↷ from that ask. 

[technicalstarling-blog]

📺 🗯 …In the beauty world, Gotham has recently become enamored with…

〰〰〰 𝒮𝓎𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇 { @blanc-perfumes }

             ✦ 〰〰〰 The Narrows was far from the most refined of Gotham’s streets. To put it lightly, they were perhaps the least fortunate of the city’s many inner communities and one could clearly see the way chaos and disarray clung to both people and place, alike. It would not be most people’s first choice to tackle when taking on the city’s grime and making something with it - Something clean, efficient, practical - but the challenge made it that much more interesting to the young man. It would be easy to fix up a nicer part of town, but that would hardly win him the trust of Gothamites like this would.

            And so, here Ethan was - Familiarizing himself with the habits and behaviors and wishes of the good people of the Narrows. His latest endeavor to do so was a survey, walking amidst the people and getting their own words from them. Most who humored him didn’t take the survey seriously, but that was unimportant - The few that did would be valuable and there was plenty to learn even from sarcasm if one knew where to look. His only lament was the fact that this process was so.... Inefficient. He only wished there was some way to collect information like this without having to risk so much; His feet were tired from walking around all afternoon and there had been some close calls with his interviewees not being particularly pleased with some of his questions. He would have to invest in a discrete and more practical form of information gathering at a later time.

            But for now he persisted, heading for his next target while reading over the results of the last interview. A man trailed a few feet behind him - Someone from the Narrows who could be easily persuaded to play bodyguard with a few spare dollars thrown in his direction. He was not strictly trained, but still he’d been integral in winning the favor of the Gothamites populating the area and his advice in how not to get oneself into an unwanted confrontation had been much appreciated. He was plenty capable of fighting - So what if his methods weren’t the most ethical? This was still Gotham.

            They arrived at a small storefront, so named Oleander Inc., according to his notes. Ethan fixed his posture a touch and pushed onward into the building, settling his most disarming smile onto his features and looking around for the owner or any employees of this particular place of business.