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I like how some of my guys are brotherly, but like different kinds of brothers given their personality.

Benben is the gentle softspoken older brother who’s more of a mom.

Red is the confident and outgoing older brother who always has a joke but also knows when to just listen or hug.

Jaime is the older brother who plays with younger siblings despite being 5+ years older and pretends to be cool when he buys them treats.

Ahhh my kids are good brothers.

#upon reflection these 3 here are the only ones who were in brother roles so that affected their development I guess O_O #ooc #sv #sv:benben #sv:red #sv:Jaime

here’s Red, requested by @eunoiabox! oho I feel so fancy saying that

I cut corners with the clothes because I don’t wanna strain my arm again T^T BUT this is a good practice! Thanks Urchin~

ask me to draw one of my characters or just send a drawing prompt! 0w0

#OC #original character #artist on tumblr #my art #sv:red

Half-blind in the darkness, I turned sharply at the next corner and raced down the black alley. Behind me were my three from the pack, and someone else. Someone unwanted: an man who had caught us on our little trip and decided to chase us down. I'd seen the man, and gauged his abilities at a glance. It would be no problem to lose him. We had the advantage, so long as I was in the lead. Even in the dark night, I knew exactly where I was and where I was going to be. I owned the streets.

As I thought, it didn't take much to lose the guy. I followed the map in my head: right turn at the next corner, then the left alleyway. Watch out for that junk heap sitting in the way--hah, that should be a nice surprise for the extra--climb the fence, and we lost him. It was obvious from the sound of the man running into the fence and rattling the chainlink. I smiled with satisfaction, even if no one would see it. I checked to see if the bundle I was holding was still there, and then I kept running. I didn't worry about the three. They would follow me, wherever I went, unless I told them not to.

The boy's worn shoes slapped the ground as they made contact. He kept going, pausing only a second to make sure the bundle he'd stuffed down his shirt was still there, and still whole. Without turning, he heard one, two, three sets of quick bodies scaling the chainlink, three landings, and a frustrated rattling at the fence. A grin broke onto his face. He loved the thrill of it all.

Taking the left middle alley of a four-way split, he ducked under the wooden boards partially covering a large hole in the brick wall and dropped into a crouch. Then he waited. Someone bent low rushed in under the entrance, then another person, and finally the last. Three. For a moment there was nothing but the panting of the four's breaths, but soon the boy got up and led the way back into the common area. They were greeted in the dimly lit room by the three that had been left behind, partially to lie back and partially to stand guard. Gathering at the table in the middle of the room, a worn thing with only three functional legs, the four from the run dumped their prizes: a loaf of day-old bread, some apples, and a bit of cheese.

"Nice one, Rot," a dirty boy of around seven with shaggy black hair said, appearing at the leader's side with wide hungry eyes.

The boy called Rot beamed. "Of course," he replied, clapping the other boy on the back. Then he turned to address the other five children around him. "Go for it, guys."

The kids pounced on the food, squabbling over how to divide the bread. Rot grabbed an apple and stood back, letting the others eat what they wanted, but making sure everyone got their fair share. He took a bite of the fruit and let the cool, sweet wetness sit in in his mouth for a moment before chewing.

Another successful run.

The next day Rot took two members, Brigitte and Aurel, with him to scout out their next target for a run. It was a house he’d had his eye on, not very big but not too small, and inhabited by one man. The owner was often out late at night but he always brought in bags of food, so Rot figured it would be place to get something to eat for the others. He always felt bad about not having enough for everyone, even though they all knew that was something that came with their situation.

Just that morning Rot had taken the same two kids to get breakfast. Breakfast was usually easier to acquire than dinner, and three children wandering the streets were less conspicuous than a troupe of four or seven.

Finding breakfast was easy enough: they went to the market that always opened up in the morning and chose a baker’s stall as their target. Aurel lost the game of rock-paper-scissors, so he was made a presentable as appropriate and sent out. Rot stood by, ready to intervene if anything went wrong, and Brigitte stood across the street on watch. Rot looked on as Aurel approached the man at the stall and started to talk. A little boy of seven years withchin-length blond hair, Aurel was ideal for prompting spare food from adults. Still, Red’s eyes darted to the pile of baked goods nearest to him, ready to snatch if he had to. Glancing around the market, he noticed a fruit stall left unattended. He shot a look at Brigitte and jerked his head in the direction of the stand. She understood, and once he blinked, she was gone.

Turning his attention back to Aurel, Rot saw the boy making gestures of thanks as the man handed him two small darkened loaves of bread. Rot scowled. Old, burnt bread, probably. They never shared fresh food. He pulled his hand away from the rolls it had been itching toward and sauntered away as Aurel trotted behind him. When he’d caught up, the blond boy proudly displayed his spoils.

“He gave ‘em to me because they’re burnt,” he informed Rot, his shoulders sagging a little. “But they should still be good, right, Rot?”

The red-haired boy took a loaf and inspected it, sniffing it and rapping it with his knuckle. Blackened on the outside, yes, but the inside should still be edible. Rot was no baker, though, so he would have to hope for the best, for the others’ sake. The loaves were so tiny, even if they weren’t burnt all the way through, they wouldn’t be enough for all six of the kids at the hideout.

“Brige, what’d you get?” Rot asked the girl who had just materialized next to them, hugging herself to keep the objects under her shirt hidden.

“Not much; three oranges. I wanted a bunch of bananas, but…”

“Yeah, it’s easier to see six bananas missing than a few oranges,” Rot mused. “Come on, let’s get back.”

He let them lead this time, trailing behind and thinking about the rolls stuffed into his pockets. He wasn’t sure when they had gotten there. By that point his hands moved on their own, grabbing what they could, quicker than the eye could see and, apparently, without Rot’s notice. For as long as he could remember, which he knew wasn’t long, he’d had to live by stealing, taking what he could get to survive. Over the last two or three years he’d met the others, and then he had to provide for them too. His gang was probably the reason why his hands worked and stole almost subconsciously.

When they reached the hideout, just as the last of the four were waking up, out came the fruit and the bread, all of it. Everyone scrabbled for the bread and Rot rationed out half an orange for each person. The blackened bread was too hard to break apart by hand, so he took the loaves outside to cut them. No one followed. Whenever Rot took out his weapon, he made sure everyone else was far away, so no one would get hurt.

#writing #backstory #flashback #sv #sv:red #past:red #mine writing