royce benstaloe |d10 fin|

MATTIO Librarian 2,307 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 24, 2024 15:22:15 GMT -5	royce benstaloe \|d10 fin\| Sept 9, 2016 19:52:31 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by MATTIO on Sept 9, 2016 19:52:31 GMT -5 name: Royce Benstaloe age: 18 district: District Ten appearance: personality: history: other: i promise i will finish this one. .. for real though i will. tbh though like i'm :shook: i did it!!!!
	Last Edit: Nov 28, 2016 23:13:10 GMT -5 by MATTIO

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royce benstaloe |d10 fin| Oct 28, 2016 20:45:02 GMT -5

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Post by MATTIO on Oct 28, 2016 20:45:02 GMT -5

royce benstaloe

Royce Benstaloe would sit on the squeaky steps of his house’s backdoor entrance. He could stare up at the moon most days, whether it be the smallest crescent or a full moon. Despite the air’s cool breeze brushing up against his tan skin, he’d wonder what is beyond the land that he knew to be home. When he was only a little lad, the Benstaloe would dream about living with the moon and stars that somehow illuminating the nighttime’s darkness.

Royce wanted more than a life where he and his family would just barely scratch by financially. Not being stable in terms of wealth always seemed to bug him. He would, starting at around thirteen or fourteen, avoid eating a large dinner, so his family didn’t waste more than they could afford. He didn’t like things in scarce quantities. Instead, he wanted abundance.

This held true in more than just their financial situation. He wanted to be happy, but his life would only allow misery to consume him. Royce wanted attention. His twin brother, Ranger, definitely gained the most attention and pride within his direct family. He gave them pride, and they never failed to acknowledge that Ranger would do so. It hurt Royce a lot, to not get the attention he believed was mandatory to be given. He was a crooked shadow behind his fraternal twin brother.

Little Roy would look up to the sky and imagine the stars were other places that he could live. A paradise that would turn out to be so much better than the world he knew to only form pain inside of him, physically and mentally. Royce believed that someday, he’d be in a place where he could just breathe and live freely, without much to care about in the world.

"Royce, why are you outside again?" he would hear the screen door open when he father’s firm voice came up from behind him. "I told you not to be out past dark."

Royce shook his head and rolled his eyes behind his father’s back. I’m happier out here. Thanks for the suggestion, though, he’d think, and he’d let out a thirteen-year-old laugh.

"Royce Benstaloe, you get your ass off these steps or I’ll give ya one."

He still remained silent, refusing to look at his father. Mr. Benstaloe was never one to put up with much bullshit, but Royce was rebellious in his early-teen years and found it amusing to push his father’s buttons. Plus, it gave him the attention that he’d wanted for.. well… ever.

Royce wasn’t able to let out one agitated sigh before his father would firmly grip the collar of his shirt and pull him off of the steps and onto his own two feet. Then, he felt it. A strong whack across the back of his head was enough to force Royce to go back inside and toward his room. He hated authority, yet he wanted the attention of the authority figures in his life. It didn’t make sense then, and it certainly doesn’t now.

Royce looked back behind him as his father scolded him for his wrong-doings. He saw a star- or what he hoped to be a star- quickly fly across the sky. As a thirteen year old boy, Royce still believed that wishes could come true. When he was shoved into his room and then bed, he closed his eyes and wished upon the shooting star.

I wish for happiness. Not the materialistic things that make one happy, a generic happiness. Or at least the key to happiness.

Royce, despite hating himself, his family, and life in general, wished that he could be happy. Maybe it could be different if he was happy. Maybe it could be better.

-

At an early age, Royce’s father already dropped little bits and pieces of rules for his family.. Since he was a little boy, the upmost respect to every person, man or woman, young or old, wealthy or poor, was demanded of him. It came very easily to him, probably because his father would interject if he ever failed to use his table manners at supper. Mr. Benstaloe wanted Royce and Ranger to be gentlemen in District Ten rather than a rag-tag pair.

It was apparent ever since they could really express their personalities, that Ranger and Royce were complete opposites. Sure, they may have looked pretty similar at a young age, but Ranger, as they grew up, was given a more defined and mature face while Royce’s genetics made it so he would keep the teenage-boy facial structure. When his mother would mention the twins to family friends, she’d describe Ranger as handsome and Royce as cute.

A face, however, isn’t the only way you could tell the two boys apart. They were fraternal, after all, and as they aged, it wasn’t hard to tell.

Royce received the more-traditional Benstaloe look: dark brown eyes, defined eyebrows, the higher end of five-feet whatever, fairly tanned skin. His cousin, Rodrick, would always joke about how Royce was a typical Bensta-bro. He embraced that when he was younger, around seven or eight, but past then, the younger of the twins didn’t really like being a Benstaloe.

The truth was that he never really found it a prideful thing to be part of the family, so whenever it was brought up by his crazy-cousin, he’d shake it off and pretend it was nothing. (but you should have listened, royce. listen while you still can.)

Royce, despite saving as much food for his next meal as possible, had a fairly muscular build as well. Although starving himself wasn’t a good choice for his body, he worked out a lot in his yard to keep a strong physical strength. He knew from his father that you have to discipline yourself as much as possible in order to get a good job and make money in a place like Ten. Even then, considering his father worked on a neighbor’s ranch and his mother doing odd jobs for the people in the District, Royce knew it would take much more to be able to live with happiness than good discipline. He felt like it needed more, a bold strength that set himself up to be a role model and example to his peers.

In the hallway of his broken down home, the eighteen-year-old boy wandered aimlessly, his eyes begging for rest and his legs wobbling every step as he paced. Royce walked from his family’s kitchen (the entrance of their home), past the bathroom, past his and Ranger’s room, then his parents’, to get to the back entrance of their home. In those twenty seconds, he wondered what would be ahead for him in his lifetime. He’d learn to navigate his home in the darkness pretty well. Almost every night, he’d walk to the back entrance, open the door into the night sky, and take a deep breath of District Ten’s air, only to walk back to their kitchen to do the same from the front.

Sleep was never a problem for the Benstaloe boy, despite there being only a scarce amount of it. Why sleep the whole night away when you only need so much of it to get on with your day? Royce would stay up until he saw the moon begin its downfall from his back entrance, and then he’d lay in bed, his brother in sight right across the room.

Someday, he’d think to himself as he rested his eyes, someday I’ll matter as much as him. Someday.

-

Father and Mother. They definitely didn’t want to have twins. Father told Royce once that he was afraid he’d never tell the two apart. Still, however, twins were what the couple were gifted too, and as they grew up, appearance-wise, their differences outnumbered their similarities. They were not identical brothers, in both appearance and personality. The first was Ranger, and then Royce came minutes after.

Royce hated being the younger of the two boys, thinking that the attention would shift much more closely to his elder brother than himself. Attention. Royce had wanted as much attention as he could ever since he was a little boy. He would get angry and scream if he wasn’t on the receiving end of his parents’ attention. Even now, Royce tries to turn people’s heads his own way rather than his twin brother’s, but that would never be the case. He’d think of Ranger as a super hero, saving the day and making people happy, but Royce would imagine himself to be the sidekick, the kind who works hard to help the hero but never gets the recognition he thinks he deserves.

Home life wasn't the only place where the teenage boy felt lost. At school, everyone knew his big brother to be some sort of superstar kid. It seemed like Ranger could be a magnet, practically forcing people to look his way. Royce couldn't exactly explain how on earth someone could do that, but if someone told him how, he would definitely take notes.

On the contrary, Royce sat in the back of his classes, scribbling all over his good notepad. There was never an end goal in mind for him, no, but rather a distraction from the real world. He'd slowly zig-zag his pencil up and down the small book, and somehow he could forget about Ranger. He could lose his train-of-thought if he remembered what his father would do if he was bad. Royce wouldn't feel obligated to remember all the negativity that engulfed his life.

However, all it took was his name to be announced in the class by the teacher, and his head would naturally shift back up to the class at hand, and his thoughts would flow back with more pain than before.

-

One night, Royce remembered eating supper with the rest of his family. His father would talk about work and his mother would mention something funny about her school life from years ago. That was always the perfect segway asking how the twins' day at school was. Ranger would obviously talk first, about how much fun he had and how he enjoyed himself so much. Royce could see right through it, the lies that his brother would mention to make the family happy.

"Royce?" he heard his father say.

Instead of answering, Royce bit his lip and continued poking around at his potatoes. His mother elbowed him, encouraging him to say more. His throat felt dry, and his skin cold. Every day was the same to Royce. Boring. Miserable. Of course, he wouldn't tell his parents that. He wished for years that he could be happy and independent, but when he realized that it would only happen in his dreams, Royce let his vocality close. It was better to say nothing than to give his father a bad report.

"Royce," his father said from across the table. Royce didn't respond, keeping his head down. Maybe his father would get the hint that the teenage boy wanted to be left alone?

No, his father was too nosy to see that. Royce's father could care less about emotion.

"I ask ya how your day was, and I want an answer."

"Royce."

The teenager felt the anger in him begin to overflow. It hurt, knowing that his father couldn't just give him a break, a time to eat in peace. Angrily, Royce set his fork down on his plate, rose to his feet, and threw the piece of china on the floor.

Royce let the adrenaline within his body take over. Anger. Fear. Power. Attention. He could feel it all at once, and he loved it. The peace in his head was now shattered in hundreds of pieces on the wooden floor.

"Can't you just let me be, dad?! You don't have to keep bugging me about it! I hate it, okay?! Are you happy? I hate you, I hate all of you!" A teenager throwing a temper-tantrum would never be a nice sight, but Royce could care less. They would've been a happier family without me, I'm sure.

Royce ran out of the room, basically in tears. Part of the tears were from the pain that he felt, knowing how disappointed his father would be in him for not enjoying himself. Another was of fear out of what he may do. The last was out of happiness: he got their attention, but would the consequences of it be positive or negative?

He went up to his room, furiously slamming the door behind him. A short inhalation went through his lungs, giving him a sense of accomplishment. Royce had gotten what he wanted, the attention of someone who would listen.

It didn't take long before his father tracked him down to the bedroom.

{it hurt, but somehow it felt worth it.}

"You think it's funny? Think it's funny to act out?" his father said, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him into his chair beside Royce's desk... This forced Royce to sit on his bed and look into the eyes of his father. The eyes were malicious and evil; full of outrage over his son's disobedience.

{this is what you wanted, right, Royce?}

"First of all, you answer me right away when I ask you a question, boy. Understood?" his father said, grabbing his wrist and gripping it tight.

Royce didn't feel that sense of power anymore. Now, it was only his father who had the power.

{you're losing now, aren't you?}

"Second, your little outbursts aren't gon' be happenin' anymore, am I clear? You're gonna smile and use your manners."

{there's no more tears for happiness, just pain and fear.}

"Lastly, both of my boys are gentlemen, right? Whenever you talk to anybody, you're gonna be a gentleman. Now, am I clear?"

Royce didn't want this, no, he wanted a good sort of attention. He nodded. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Sir. Yes sir."

As soon as he said this, he felt the tight grip of his father loosen, and soon completely go away. He knew what it meant to be truly, truly afraid. His father was always strict and made sure his boys were disciplined, but Royce never got abuse like this, not anytime when he was younger.

He did as his father said that one night. Royce responded when he was asked questions, even if his answers were dry and without any feeling or aim. The teenager kept his anger to a minimum, if not a nill. He said 'sir' and 'ma'am' to people, even just walking across the streets.

There were little things that his father would critique him about, and Royce would try his hardest to fix those criticisms so what happened at age fifteen didn't happen ever again.

All of this never made Royce a better person. On the outside, he could seem as kind as could be, but inside, the hatred he proclaimed to his family at supper one night would only build. His jealousy of Ranger and his positive consequences and attention only caused more pain. He was easily obedient, and his father always told Royce, "Be more like Ranger, he's a good, happy gentleman."

I know, he'd think. He's happy and I'm not. He's who you wanted and I'm not.

Polar opposites, Royce imagined them as. He believed that Ranger had everything he wanted and more, but Royce thought that he himself needed to be Ranger in order to be happy. So he'd try- and try and try, over and over again. It wouldn't work, which would only allow his anger and jealousy to rise to greater lengths.

And like a line of dominoes, it only takes one small partner for a whole stack to drop.

-

Last Edit: Nov 28, 2016 23:12:32 GMT -5 by MATTIO

MATTIO Librarian 2,307 POSTS Pronouns: he/him last seen Apr 24, 2024 15:22:15 GMT -5	royce benstaloe \|d10 fin\| Nov 29, 2016 16:50:07 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by MATTIO on Nov 29, 2016 16:50:07 GMT -5 he's done i think but lance called dibs.

lance Librarian 3,638 POSTS Pronouns: He/Him/His last seen Apr 24, 2024 2:29:03 GMT -5 gay and chaotic? call it gayos	royce benstaloe \|d10 fin\| Nov 30, 2016 3:32:19 GMT -5 Quote Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by lance on Nov 30, 2016 3:32:19 GMT -5 bless. ~~you could always reap him, that'll get him attention for sure ¯\_(ツ)_/¯~~ ACCEPTED!
	credit to darsypoo uwu credit to fireflyz! credit to stare!