#rosiane hajime

[nyewclear]

so u know.. i wrote that thing last night and was Spurred Into Creativity! for the first time in a while so!!!! here are my bnha ocs!!!! they are very sweet and they’re siblings and they love each other very much :^) if you follow my instagram, you’ve probably heard sum stuff bout rosie, but james ..... i drew him for the first time last night LOL

if u care!!! here’s rosie’s toyhouse and i’ll put some info about these two under the cut :D

> rosie and james are english-japanese, english from their mom’s side and japanese from their dad’s. they take more after their dad than their mom, but they get their height and green eyes from their mom!! > the hajimes used to live in kensington, london up until james was born (rosie was 9 when he was born), and then they moved to musutafu to raise both of the kids there > the two of them were raised speaking both english and japanese, and when they moved to japan, they usually speak english at home and japanese at school and in public > as for quirks! they have very puppet-oriented quirks, which is a nod to their old 2016 versions:

rosie’s quirk is called “elemental golem,” and she basically can summon golems made of wind, air, fire, and water to do things for her. they’re created for a single purpose/task and once the task is complete (or if the golem is Destroyed tm), the golem goes back to nothing. usually, she makes the golems about her height (when fighting/doing training) or much smaller. she likes to use them to entertain james

james’ quirk.... im just gonna call his “puppeteer.” he can move things and control things without touching them, kinda like a puppeteer, but without the strings. he has to poise his hands over the object in order to do anything with it, and it takes a lot of concentration. he gets frustrated easily with his quirk, so he doesn’t use it very often

also! because of their puppet.... based... origins... or whatever, their cheeks are always pinker/ruddier than normal. idk. i just thought it was cute u know

> right now, james is 7 and rosie is 16. she’s enrolled in general studies at ua (class 1-c), and she has a couple friends there: orion (he belongs to @/vrost but i cant find any pics of him lol) and sven, who are her best friends, and hikari moumoku, a third year. as for james? idk what the hell he’s doin. he’s in elementary school, but he wants to be just like his sister, so he’s probably going to try to go to a hero high school too :^)

so yeah!!!!!! thats them!!!!! my cuties!!!! hope u like then... bc i love them.... and they love u too

[nyewclear]

doin’ some dialogue practices for creative writing class! i had to write dialogue based off of images n stuff :^)

. one . > picture > characters: max | teeny

The clouds swirled overhead, forming obscure and vague shapes that somehow Teeny managed to pick things out of.

“Look!” she crowed, pointing her finger at a nondescript blob of clouds that looked more like a lump to Max than anything. “Issa turtle.” Max wrinkled his nose as he squinted up at the clouds.

“It does not look like a turtle,” he said flatly, putting a hand up to his face to shield his eyes from the sun.

Teeny snorted, turning on her side to flick Max on the cheek. The freckles dotted across her nose had gotten darker from all the time she’d spent in the sun lately. “You’re jus’ uncreative! What does it look like to you?”

The corners of Max’s mouth turned down. It literally looked like nothing. It was a smear of white across the sky. “Um…” he started, feeling Teeny’s big eyes stare at him from the side. “I don’t know? Maybe a…” He peered at the sky a little more, trying to see something. The clouds writhed in the sky above them. “A g… ghost?”

Teeny snorted again, louder this time, and it dissolved into laughter as she flopped back onto her back. Max made a face, trying to keep from laughing himself. “You suck at this, Maxie,” she teased lightly before staring off into the sky for another long moment.

It was quiet when Max sat up after a minute or so. He could feel the grass stains seeping into the backs of his pant legs. There was a rumble in the distance.

“It’s planting season, isn’t it?” he asked idly, plucking grass from the ground and twisting it between his fingers. He looked back to see Teeny fold her arms behind her head. Her eyes were closed, inky black lashes fanned across her cheeks.

“Sure is, cuz,” she replied. “Daddy’s probably runnin’ the tractor over the hill.”

“Soybeans this year?” Teeny opened one eye to gaze at him.

“Nope! Corn this time. We did soybeans last year.” There was a silence. “Remember when you ran through that soybean field by the pig pen and stepped on the hornet’s nest?”

Max grimaced. “You laughed at me for, like, two hours. That hurt so bad. I couldn’t walk for a week.” Teeny grinned at him full force and it was almost blinding.

“You city slickers know nothin’ ‘bout the stuff that creeps around in those fields. You’re lucky you didn’t get bit by a cobra or somethin’.” Max gaped at her.

“There aren’t any cobras in the middle of Ohio, TT.”

There was a mischievous glint in Teeny’s eyes. “You don’t know that.”

. two . > picture > characters: boomer | oliver

The office desk shook violently when a pair of hands slammed down onto it, making Boomer’s pen skid to the side of the form he was filling out. Ophelia was going to kill him. She was always so adamant about having all the museum’s human resources paperwork filled out so very neatly. His brow crumpled with annoyance, looking up to probably frown deeply at whoever had made him do this, only to see a flushed faced Oliver looking down at him.

“Is it true?” was all he said, his voice stretched thin and layered with something that sounded like anger. Disappointment? Betrayal? Boomer couldn’t tell. He set down his pen, carefully, quietly.

“Is… is what true?” Oliver leaned back, green eyes ablaze. They looked watery.

“About you,” he bit out, forcing the words out of his mouth like they were foul.

Boomer cast him a bemused look. “About me?” The fact that Boomer had simply repeated Oliver seemed to bother him more. He crossed his arms stiffly across his chest.

“Yes. About you. And Valentina.”

Oh.

Boomer didn’t know how to answer this, his mouth working uselessly. He’d like to say that he’d forgotten about Oliver and Valentina and their very, very complicated history, and he’d like to say that he had thought about that before he’d kissed Valentina over the summer (he’d kissed her many, many times. But to be fair, she always kissed him first), and he’d like to say that he’d felt bad-- guilty even-- throughout all of this, but he didn’t. He really didn’t.

“I thought you and Ross were together,” he said lamely, biting his lip.

“We are,” Oliver snapped, exasperated. “But you? And Lenn-- Valentina? Are you kidding me? Are you f… are you serious?”

“You… you guys broke up in freshman year.” Oliver smacked the table again. The tin of pens on the corner of the table rattled.

“That doesn’t matter!” he retorted, even though it mattered a lot. He’d started dating Ross three months after Valentina broke up with him. It shouldn’t matter anymore. “You know how much she meant to me. You were there when things ended.”

“Oliver, just because I’m your roommate doesn’t mean that I--”

“You were,” Oliver interrupted suddenly, voice flat and brimming with something terrifying. Boomer had the urge to stand up. It was unnerving to be looked down on by Oliver.

“... What?” It came out as almost a whisper.

“You heard me.”

A hot flush came rising up Boomer’s neck and flooded into his cheeks. He sputtered, “B… but-- You already submitted your roommate request. We’ve been roommates for two years, you can’t just--”

“I already did.” Oliver’s voice wavered, and Boomer realized that his friend’s eyes had brimmed with tears. They threatened to spill as Oliver reached into his back pocket and thwacked a folded piece of paper down onto the table. “I apparently can’t trust you to not stab me in the back, so I told housing I’m living off campus.”

“Oliver--” Boomer’s eyes flicked to the paper. It was folded so sloppily that he could see the bold heading of the page peeking through one of the flaps. Notice of resignation, it read. All the breath was abruptly sucked from Boomer’s lungs. Oliver turned on his heel, began to walk towards the door.

“Don’t you ever talk to me again, Boomer,” Oliver went on over his shoulder, his voice shaking so badly that it would be impossible to believe that he wasn’t crying. Boomer watched Oliver’s back, watched him reach up and viciously wipe tears from his cheeks. “I hope you and Lenny last longer than she did with me.”

He was out the door in a second, his footsteps only a faint echo down the hall. Boomer wanted to call out to him, wanted to call him back, but he couldn’t find the words.

. three . > picture > characters: rosiane | james There was a loud crash from the living room, one that sounded like shattered glass and toppled chairs. The sound reverberated throughout the house, traveling up the stairs to Rosiane’s bedroom. Her pencil halted in the middle of her sentence as she looked up from her homework. A momentary silence passed and it made Rosiane uneasy, so she pushed back from her desk and clicked off her lamp. 

“James?” she called, shoving her feet into her slippers as she left her room and began to pad down the stairs. “Are you okay?” There was no response. She opened her mouth to say her brother’s name again, turning the corner that led from the hallway to the mouth of the living room to see the disaster in there.

“James??” Rosiane shrilled, rushing into the living room and to her brother. He was sitting in what had been the rounded coffee table, the glass surface all fragmented into a thousand pieces and the wooden base splintered under his weight. He was sitting there with a stunned sort of stupefied look on his face, bloodied scratches from the glass on his bare arms. He turned to look at her, big green eyes overflowing with tears.

“Rosie… Rosie, I broke the table,” he sniffled, the words coming out slow. Rosiane let out a sob mixed with a laugh, trying to navigate her way to him without getting glass stuck in her slippers.

“Oh, James, what on earth did you do?” There was another moment of James simply just sitting there looking lost, tears still running down his ruddy cheeks.

“I was trying to use my quirk,” he answered, looking down at his hands, his palms up and open on his thighs. A crushing sympathy tore through Rosiane’s chest, and she carefully lowered herself down next to James, glass crunching under her feet.

“Jameski…”James curled his fingers tightly into his palms, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so. More tears spilled down his face. “I wanna be… I wanna be like you, Rosie,” he mumbled, his chin quivering. His dark hair fell over his eyes and Rosiane reached out to tuck some behind his ear. “I tried to do it like you told me, to concentrate on the object, to… to reach out to it, and-- and it would...” He sighed heavily, shakily, shoulders hunching up to his ears.

“What were you trying to move?” Rosiane asked softly, ungracefully plonking her butt to the floor to release the strain on her legs. Glass painfully poked into her pajama pants and she met this fact with a wince. James curled into her like he was trying to hide.

“The picture frame by the TV.” Rosiane looked over at the television across from them, knowing exactly the picture James was talking about. It was a photo that her dad had taken the day they’d moved to their new house in Musutafu after leaving Kensington. James was just a baby, held in her mother’s arms, and Rosiane had been a skinny girl of nine. Her two front teeth had been missing.

The picture hadn’t moved from the spot that it had always been, perched on the TV stand like it had been for the past seven years. Rosiane assumed that James had climbed onto the coffee table for a better angle and it had given out on him.

“Jameski, you know these things take time,” she murmured, rubbing her hand up and down her brother’s back gingerly. She thought that she could feel glass in the back of his shirt. Her brother was beginning to cry into her shirt, big, heaving sobs that soaked the fabric through in moments.

“R-Rosie, I c-can’t do it,” he said through his tears, hands gripping her shirt in fistfuls. “I can’t, it’s s-so hard.”

“Shh… don’t rush it. It’s okay, Jameski, it’s gonna be fine.” A minute stretched into what felt like an eternity, the only noises being the clock ticking away on the wall and James’ blubbering into her shirt. It took a long while for James to calm down and stop crying, a while until James peeled his face away from Rosiane’s shirt and instead pressed his wet cheek to her chest like he was trying to hear her heartbeat.

“My q-quirk’s weak, isn’t it,” he hiccupped quietly. Rosiane gasped without meaning to, her eyebrows knitting together.“Oh, my God, no, it’s not! I never want to hear you say that again.” She paused before continuing, “My quirk was slow in manifesting too, did you know that?” James peered up at her with his puffy eyes, her shirt crumpling under his cheek. “Yup. I was so frustrated with it that I gave up on trying to summon golems for almost an entire year. It was like my quirk hadn’t even manifested at all.

“But I had to be patient. Not only with my quirk, but with myself. It’s exhausting to be angry at yourself about your quirk and it not being insanely strong right away. I had to learn to take my time, to pace myself, and not push myself too much before I started to see any real progress at all.” She smiled a little down at James, a long, straight lock of hair falling down her shoulder. “And you know what? I remember my first tiny little golem-- one made of air. I’d summoned it while sitting at the kitchen table back in Kensington and it was incredible. Definitely worth waiting for. Definitely worth trying for.” She gave James a little shake, her arm tucked firmly around his back. “So don’t you ever say your quirk is weak. I know you’re gonna be so frickin’ strong someday, Jameski. You’re gonna be stronger than me. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“You think so?” James squeaked. Rosiane smiled big this time, using her thumb to brush the nearly-dried tears from James’ cheeks.

“I know so.”