#rooftopblues

[exspiritment]

@rooftop-blues

This is the last thing Spirit expects when she goes to pick up supply.

Most of her drug dealing connections are low-level nobodies, and Spirit does created this web intentionally. She and her family don’t need attention drawn to themselves. 

But when she sees a mercenary-looking Supe has gutted everyone in this loft apartment, she curses her luck - curses the fact that these people have undoubtedly pissed off some government official or Vought International ally. She regrets ever asking for a key - but how could she ever have expected to see this? 

And it’s not just the seeing - it’s the dozens of recently deceased, it’s the ghosts of this historic apartment building, it’s the hundreds, maybe thousands of victims of the Supe in this room. The mystery stranger in all black. Spirit lets out an audible whimper; she might have a migraine soon if she can’t find something to take. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” Does he have a mouth? Does he have ears? Spirit signs: <I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.> She doesn’t know what else to say; or do - she pants frantically, like a dehydrated dog.

[assassincraft]

                                                                                                      【 @rooftop-blues​ 】

                            the bell was about to ring to let the students out, siting with notebook to his chest as he stared off for a little. every time they had someone new added to the classroom it ended up that they were going to be out of their hair soon, or caused more trouble than it was worth. irina stayed... but she was a hassle her first week there, takaoka was... takaoka, and the other assassins never stuck. a few empty, glances back and forth with a apprehensive look, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

                            the bell goes off and the students slowly disperse, making their plans to study either combat, or homework; wether they’d take the train home, or hop around the rooftops once more. nagisa peeked out to see where the teachers and the... new visitor were, swallowing thickly and... deciding to try and say something. it all... seemed like a useless waste of time, you know... teachers and assassins coming in and out. they’ve seen it all before and they all fail, shiro, itona, red eye, irina, takaoka... it all went the same.

                           ❝ he... goes at mach twenty, you know... i do- understand you are more of a professional than us. but you... will not be able to scratch him, even. i am... sure there are more pressing matters... you can be helping elsewhere, yes ?? ❞ 

[pyreshe]

vought will be like "here are a list of Palatable Heroes that are friendly to the brand we are trying to cultivate for you," and then she proceeds to imprint on black fuckin noir like a baby duck and no one knows what to do with that

[psaiint]

                                                               starter for 【 @rooftop-blues 】

                          narrowed eyes from his desk, itona hid himself behind one of his classmates most of the class so he could tinker on a device. evading koro’s attention was the hard part since he didn’t quite care for focusing on today’s demonstration. hues darting back and forth on his device before him the white haired student chewed on the inside of his cheek while using his tool kit and schematics. as the class chimed over and it was their study period, he continued to keep his attention on his device.

                          tapping of his screwdriver on the edge of the buttons that he was installing, eyes darting from the sliding door of the classroom back to his device. a lost voice... he knew what it was to not be able to speak for yourself, or to have it taken away from you. when he was under shiro he barely had his own voice, the tentacles doing most of his talking and took over his mind process. strength, the lack of it is what he obsessed over and it almost destroyed him. the lack of choice... the lack of a voice of your own. he understood that.

                          slowly, he got himself up and went back over to where the teachers were in their lounge, seeing out the foreigner. with no luck, he didn’t stick around for karasuma to ask him what he wanted, he simply made his way back to class and out the sliding doors to the outside gym course koro-sensei had made for them.

                          ❝ you. ❞ he barked out, making sure not to sneak up on the other since he knew what it was like to be taken off guard. stepping into his sight, itona held up a device with a small screen, like the display of a calculator but with letters instead of numbers. a small volume button on the side, a start button, and another button to erase.

                          ❝ a text to speech, this... is for you, ❞ never a need to speak english before he came to this class so it was... piecing together puzzles he thought were correct. he looked up and his expression was straight still, loosely holding the device so noir could grab ahold of it when he felt like it. eye contact was constant, he was the type to not want to feel like a weaker in any situation so he barely shied away from the connection.

                          ❝ built in correction... ❞ a mumble this time, he noted when nagisa was talking to him that his spelling was... not great. not that his was any better, in his mother tongue he was a genius, in english, well, as anyone else learning for the first time.

                          ❝ they－ might not see... i have sight, i see. what this is, how we are both. it is easy to see even with no real view in you. that they have done the same to us, they will never understand. ❞ admitting to his... prior issues and backtracking shiro gave him in growth is what he sees now, previously he thought of it as pure power when it really just... hindered him. a eye twitch slightly from the slight pain he had in his scalp now and then, a constant reminder to what was. he adjusts the protective headband the class made for him to help with his head pains, trying to lull the slight pain he had at the moment.

[soleiltm]

@rooftop-blues​ liked this post! 

They were supposed to return to the Tower immediately after finishing up this latest assignment. Isn't that how it always was? They weren't to linger for longer than is required. Hannah, however, always seemed to have other plans. Such was evident as she was running off toward the playground just a few feet away. Well... she was trying to run anyways. Adjusting to these heeled boots never really happened. She's quick to unzip them and toss them aside as she steps onto the rubber mulch lining covering the playground. She's happily settling upon a swing, attention now focused upon her best friend. ❛ Noir, c'mon! This'll be real quick, I promise! We can head back t' the Towa' soon! Just come push me on the swings first. ❜ 

Forever the bad influence, wasn't she? A sense of deviancy from orders certainly didn't look good to superiors. ❛ Pleeeease? ❜

[queensupe]

it’s   going   to   take   some   getting   used   to,   this   NEW   LIFE:      she’s   has   to   unlearn   what   it’s   like   not   to   have   to   meter   the   way   with   which   she   closes   her   hand   around   a   glass,   has   to   understand   what   it   is   not   to   heal   at   a   superior   rate      (      to   remember   PAIN   as   her   body   stitches   itself   back   together   in   a   slow   climb   from   throbbing,   disorienting   impact   bruises   to   a   dull,   irritable   ache      ),   to   focus   her   field   of   vision      &      look   past   the   narrow   bridge   of   her   nose,      to   understand   what   it   is   to   be   human      (      to   be   HAPPY      ).      

she   doesn’t   live   with   the   busy   din   of   the   city   noise   anymore   or   the   slick,   urbane   trappings   of   new   york.      those   are   gone   for   the   roaring   quiet   of   a   countryside   poured   out   in   different   shades   of   green      &      in   favor   of   waking   up   with   the   sun’s   yawn   on   the   horizon   without   a   touch   of   liquor   coloring   her   tongue.      

she      &      elena   started   out   slow,   borrowing   from   a   siphoned   amount   of   cash   to   purchase   a   handful   of   happy   goats,   lambs,      &      a   dairy   cow   along   with   a   patch   of   lazy,   lonely   land   out   west.      

“      you   look   like   you   don’t   know   which   fucking   end   is   UP,   @rooftop-blues​​,   ”      slices   out   among   the   mellow   verdigris.      her   hip   hits   the   fencepost,   rolled   sleeves   cuffing   back   off   her   forearms.      the   purpling   at   her   cheek   has   matured   into   a   sallow   yellow   but   there’s   still   gauze   packed   tightly   against   the   sunken   hollow   beneath   the   arc   of   her   right   brow.      “      -------      you   could   start   with   the   sheep,      ”      comes   out   curt   despite   its   simple   straightforwardness.      “      come   on,   i’ll   show   you   where   the   feed   is.      if   you’re   going   to   post   up   here,   you   might   as   well   be   useful.      ”   

[movedagain-unbearablyindifferent]

a silent observer also here to say I love seeing your posts on my dash ~

She's, uh. Gonna go hide. Now.

[exspiritment]

@rooftop-blues said: if i stop, it’s over, i’m dead. [ on a note c: ]

When others sign, Spirit signs. She doesn’t need to in every scenario, but she tells herself it brings a sense of comfort for them both. 

Communicating with Black Noir in the way he knows to communicate is a little more difficult. Even if Spirit had a fully-developed formal education — her handwriting is naturally, inevitably shitty. 

When she speaks, she’s whispering. For his ears only. 

“I don’t know anyone who could kill you.” It’s terrifying how earnest she is. “Do you really think you do?”

[pyreshe]

there’s something uniquely terrifying about seeing black noir of all people on the ground and not immediately getting back up. livvy has always thought of the man as infallible; both as a member of the seven and as a silent guardian who is scarier than whatever lurks in the dark. the night often has teeth, and even at her young age she realizes as much.

olivia doesn’t think too hard about what she does next- she simply focuses on the advancing figures and lets the invisible beam of heat flow from her mind and find a home in their hearts, their brains, until they’re doubled over in pain and the air smells eerily like cooking meat.

@rooftop-blues​ liked for a starter 🔥

[notimminent]

starter call ;; @rooftop-blues​

     “ y’know, people constantly look over me even when i’m not using my powers. ”   the brunette appeared in the corner of the shop, having heard noises downstairs while she was getting ready for the day. her father had gone out for the morning so she was supposed to take the helm of the store, but she wasn’t expecting to see someone from THE SEVEN in the closed store.  “ kinda like how your suit is supposed to help you blend in. it’s supposed to be a compliment? i hope it comes out as such. ”

[soleiltm]

@rooftop-blues​​ said: note: pass a note to them.

How convenient that they had been sat beside each other. It certainly made passing notes back and forth easier, they didn't have to cross over anyone else. Really, the two of them should be paying attention to the ongoing meeting. What was this one about anyways? Some bullshit that didn't matter, that much Hannah was sure of. It didn't take long for the brunette to grow bored, begin scribbling out a note to Noir and passing it underneath the desk.

Upon the paper lay a question, simple enough: "Hangman?" An invitation to play within a question neatly presented. A smile etches into freckled features as she reads the response, a confirmation that he was willing to play. With that she begins drawing small lines, each a place for a letter to go. Five spaces, one word, now accompanied by a crudely made gallows is passed back.

[pyreshe]

send  ( painting )  for our muses to fingerpaint together

truth be told, this kind of thing is a little juvenile. she hasn’t fingerpainted in earnest since her father was still alive--- that’s not something she’s going to unpack at the moment. still, earving is good company. she doesn’t understand when people say he’s a robot or empty inside, especially when he’s like this. then again, she supposes that people see exactly what they want to see and little else.

she cranes her neck to look at his work, “ cool! “ she chirps. livvy is careful to wipe her hands off before she moves her drawing so he can better see it, “ i think this is about as good as it’s gonna get. what do you think? ”

memes for child muses

[soleiltm]

@rooftop-blues​​​ said: Noir tries to lighten Hannah's mood by painting her face. he's surprisingly proficient at it

It had been another press event, something to promote some new line of products Vought was putting out. Other than the fact that she had to parade around in this demeaning and revealing new outfit, Hannah was in a pretty good mood. That is until unsolicited, sexually charged comments are thrown her way. Starlight went through this too, didn’t she? Right after her new costume debuted. She got through this, she even got her old costume back! If she could do it, so could Hannah. At least, that’s what she told herself. Holding it together with a smile throughout the rest of the event, the Alectrona persona taking over in full. Next came the quiet dissociation on the car ride back to the Tower. Then, finally, the breakdown the moment she set foot within her room. Quick to change from the costume into something that covered more, something looser. She wastes no time scrubbing face clean of caked on cosmetics. Even now, having settled some, she doesn’t feel any better. It’s only a matter of mere minutes afterwards that she is texting Noir. 

[txt: 🖤 ]: busy?

[txt: 🖤 ]: im sad.

[txt: 🖤 ]: bought snazaroo face paint off amazon on a whim wanna come try it? 

The other arrives, is greeted with a small smile and a hug. ❛ I don’t really wanna talk ‘bout it or nothin’, I just... don’t wanna feel icky anymore. ❜ That was more than enough to get this session under way, allowing her a chance to think about something else. Hannah remains as steady as possible, sitting crisscrossed before Noir. Though, to be honest, some of the brush strokes do tickle against freckled features. Every now and then a smile peaks through. ❛ How’s it lookin’? Am I lookin’ like a little kid at a birthday party or somethin’ more regal? ❜