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Post  Fool on the Hill Sun Feb 01, 2015 4:54 am

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( /prē-ˌlüd/ )
An action or event serving as an introduction to something more important
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Post  Fool on the Hill Sun Feb 01, 2015 4:55 am

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Making it big in the music industry is difficult and finding that special niche where your band belongs is even more so. Mock Soldier has that rare spark and has quickly gained attention over the past year and a half since they began performing at small gigs. In 2013, they released their first album, "Prophet" and seven months later, were signed with a record label trying to make a name of themselves, called Resurgo.

They just announced their summer tour and Resurgo isn't sparing any expenses. The label knows that Mock Soldier are going to make it big and everything must be perfect for their first tour. The members are young, inexperienced against tour life. Will the cliches of sex, drugs, and alcohol be too much?


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Billboard.com - Mock Soldier Announce Renegade Summer Tour 2014

Newcomers Mock Soldier announced this morning the launch of their first official tour under new record label Resurgo where they will be touring in support of the previous year's album, "Prophet." There are 24 shows already scheduled, but more may be added as seen fit. They will be touring with tour vets Tip the Top as they tour for their latest album, "Clash."

June 19, 2015 -- Hartford, CT -- XFINITY Theatre
June 21, 2015 -- Wantagh, NY -- Nikon at Jones Beach Theater
June 22, 2015 -- Mansfield, MA -- Xfinity Center
June 25, 2015 -- Toronto, ON -- Molson Canadian Amphitheatre
June 27, 2015 -- Camden, NJ -- Susquehanna Bank Center
June 30, 2015 -- Gilford, NH -- Bank of New Hampshire Pavilion

July 3, 2015 -- Burgettstown, PA -- First Niagara Pavilion
July 5, 2015 -- Milwaukee, WI -- Summerfest
July 6, 2015 -- Maryland Heights, MO -- Verizon Wireless Amphitheatre
July 8, 2015 -- Clarkston, MI -- DTE Energy Music Theatre
July 9, 2015 -- Noblesville, IA -- Klipsch Music Center
July 11, 2015 -- Tinley Park, IL -- First Midwest Bank Amphitheatre
July 12, 2015 -- Cincinnati, OH -- Bunbury Music Festival
July 13, 2015 -- Whites Creek, TN -- The Woods Amphitheater at Fontanel
July 18, 2015 -- Columbia, MD -- Merriweather Post Pavilion
July 19, 2015 -- Hershey, PA -- Hersheypark Stadium
July 22, 2015 -- Raleigh, NC -- Walnut Creek Amphitheatre
July 23, 2015 -- Charlotte, SC -- PNC Music Pavilion
July 25, 2015 -- West Palm Beach, FL -- Cruzan Amphitheatre
July 29, 2015 -- Virginia Beach, VA -- Farm Bureau Live
July 30, 2015 -- Atlanta, GA -- Aaron's Amphitheatre

August 2, 2015 -- Austin, TX -- Austin360 Amphitheater
August 5, 2015 -- Dallas, TX -- Gexa Energy Pavilion
August 7, 2015 -- Albuqueque, NM -- Isleta Amphitheater
August 8, 2015 -- Phoenix, AZ -- Ak-Chin Pavilion
August 10, 2015 -- Oklahoma City, OK -- Zoo Amphitheatre
August 12, 2015 -- Morrison, CO -- Red Rocks Amphitheatre
August 13, 2015 -- Orem, UT -- UCCU Center
August 15, 2015 -- Las Vegas, NV -- Cosmopolitan
August 17, 2015 -- Concord, CA -- Sleep Train Pavilion
August 28, 2015 -- St. Paul, MN -- Minnesota State Fair
August 31, 2015 -- Scranton, PA -- Toyota Pavilion
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Post  Fool on the Hill Sun Feb 01, 2015 6:17 am

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[ ρɾεlυḋε ] ✖✖✖ { a 1x1 between Atlas and Fool } Flontpng.aspx?text=I%20will%20sing%20to%20you%20everyday..
Full name;; Mason Luke Wells
Nickname;; Mase
Age;; 18
Birthdate;; October 1st
Gender;; Male
Performance Outfit;; x
Position;; Lead Singer, Guitar, Keyboards
Crush;; Open

Appearance;; Mason has dark brown hair that he keeps semi-short, long enough that it can be styled up, but not long enough that it's in his eyes, unless it's wet, in which case it has a tendency to curl slightly. He has light brown eyes that seem to change color frequently, and also wears glasses. During shows, and some interviews and photoshoots, he wears his contacts. He has Lichtenberg Figure markings on his neck and shoulder blade, on the left side. He stands at 5'10 and, despite being rather skinny, he is leanly muscled. He has a long torso and even longer legs, as well as long, skinny fingers with visible veins. He is naturally somewhat pale and has a few pronounced freckles and moles on his cheeks.
range of emotions ;; happy - sad - scared - angry

Personality;; Mason has always been rather complicated, but things have gotten progressively more mixed up within over the years. He's always been a pretty happy guy, ready to laugh with his friends and reach out to anyone that needed him. He has a kind hard, but the last several years have left him a bit jaded. Despite the occasionally reserved and bitter personality he takes on, he is great with his fans and during interviews. He seems to take on a whole different persona, smiling and becoming quite charming. He has a knack for steering conversations his way when he needs to. He has, in recent years, shown a tendency to grow irritable and will withdraw from the world. Unbeknownst to many, he experiences anxiety now and then, and his biggest trigger is from arguments and confrontations, especially when he cannot distance himself from it all. When this happens, he may experience outright panic attacks. He is fiercely independent and finds it difficult to accept help from others, or to let others in, to see how vulnerable he might really be. That isn't to say that he is never happy. Mason knows how to have fun and he enjoys a good laugh, a good thrill now and then. It's just that some days are harder than others for him.

History;; Mason was born in Germany and, when he was four years old, his parents divorced and his father took him to the United States. Within a year and a half, Mason's father had remarried. There weren't too many problems until he was eight years old. Work became stressful, his father began to take his stress out on his family. He argued a lot with his wife - someone who had never wanted children, so never treated Mason as such - and things trickled down toward Mason. His efforts in school and at home just weren't "good enough" and life just wasn't enjoyable. He wasn't physically abused, though. It was mainly emotional, getting yelled at, told he wasn't good enough, that made him turn more bitter. At the age of fifteen, he and several of his friends formed a band, practicing in the garage. This allowed him to get out of the house more, away from his family, but that didn't help much with the tension when he was home. Eventually, he moved in with his best friend to avoid the conflicts that frequently arose from his parents. Life began to improve and, at the age of sixteen, Mason was emancipated from his parents legally. His band, Mock Soldier, stunningly, gained a fanbase rather quickly, and released their first album. After getting signed with Resurgo, a record company looking to make a name for themselves, Mock Soldier announced that they'd be going on tour.


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Post  Atlas Sun Feb 01, 2015 6:50 am

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Name "My name's Ryder West, pleased to meet you."
Age "I'm 19, just turned recently. I'm the oldest member of the band, but not too old. My age stops me from getting drinks legally, but I still do it. Honestly, no one gives a flying fuck."
Gender "I'm a dude, obviously."
Instrument"I play two instruments. In the band, I'm the drummer. I play another instrument, but I don't like telling too many people. You really wanna know? Alright, it's violin. Yes, a rockstar plays the violin. Embarrassing, I know."
Birthday "I had my birthday a few days ago. I was born on October 9, 1993."

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Physical Description

Ryder doesn't look like your typical rockstar. Most rock drummers have multiple piercings, crazy hair, tattoos, and are decked out in black clothing. Ryder looks like your typical guy off the street, not standing out too much. He is attractive, however, but he just doesn't fit the rock stenotype. His hair is brown and floppy, swooping just over his eyes and framing his face. His eyebrows have an arch, even his face out quite well. His eyes are a bright blue, showing an almost youth-like quality. He stands at 5'11, making him a pretty tall guy. He isn't too buff, but his arms are well-developed from smashing drumheads. His teeth are white and straight, thanks to the braces he wore from 6th to 8th grade. When he opens his mouth to smile, it's brilliant and wide; likewise, when he's annoyed or upset, his eyebrows contort to become the anger of Hades. His skin is tan, due to the amount of time he spends outside trying to keep a good body. Now that he's rising to stardom, he'll need to appeal to the fans more than ever before.

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PersonalityRyder is often known as "The Rock," holding everyone together under hard times. Mason has always been their leader, but it seems like Ryder was always a deep-rooted anchor of the foundation. He stands strong, ready to tackle any problems that came in the band's way. He is able to effectively solve problems and resolve fights between the band members and the crew. He knows how to handle himself, and he never asks for anything. Ryder does not feel the need to voice his opinions much, but when he does, everyone listens and usually agrees. Overall, Ryder is an influential member of the band, holding them together and facing up to adversity. Emotional is one of his key words that comes into his personality. He cares about everyone, whether they are a fan, band member, or roadie. He enjoys spending time with his friends, and he cherishes it over anything. Even though the life of a rockstar is exciting and thrilling, Ryder would prefer to kick back and chill with his friends.He is a very calm guy, not easily angered or annoyed. Insults or stressful demands usually roll off of his shoulders. It is rare for him to be shaken to the point of an outburst. However, he does have his ugly side. Jealousy is seeded in his heart, and if his band is taken out of the picture, he gets ugly very fast. Drinking is also a problem of his, and he's been known to get very drunk after concerts. He hates how quickly they rose to stardom, and how his own band was almost cut out of the picture. In addition to jealousy, Ryder is very stubborn and hard-headed. When he gets the idea in his head that something has to be a certain way, he will not stop until it is the way he wants. Overall, though, he hates change, in any way, shape or form. The new life f a rockstar is great, but if everyone is in his face 24/7, the boy is bound to snap.


LikesSpending time with friends, preforming, music sleeping, relaxing, writing music, reading, video games
DislikesInterviews, crazed fans, Passing Decade, rushed schedules, not having time for himself, change
Positive traitsCalm, friendly, caring, passionate, motivated
Negative traitsEmotional, hard-headed, resists change, jealous
FearsNot being able to play how he used to, car crashes, failure, rejection
SkillsVery good drummer and violinist, cooking, resolving feuds
StrugglesConfidence issues, difficulty coping with death, playing with his injured arm


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History

On October 9, 1993, Ryder entered the world. The son of a moderately-successful accountant and a full-time secretary, Ryder soon learned the definition of 'busy.' From the time he was a toddler, he began to notice the absence of his parents, and when they were present, the absence of their attention. They were always focused on their next interview, their next number-crunch. Not only this, but Ryder was also the fourth child in his large family. As much as his parents loved them equally, there simply wasn't enough time to be devoted to each one. The youngest of the West pack, he often had to prove himself to his siblings. They'd often give him a hard time for small things, such as being the quieter kid. However, Ryder slowly started to prove them wrong, and bond closer together with them. He had a complete family- well, except for one.

Throughout elementary school, Ryder was a bit of a loner. He had a few friends, but often he'd stay at the edge of the group, just staying silent. He'd joined various sports, in order to be like his brothers. However, he was dispassionate about them, as dispassionate as a 6 year old could be. Throughout elementary school, though, Ryder eventually came to know his best friend, Mason. Once these two had established a friendship, it was almost impossible to see them apart. Mason became known as Ryder's other brother, almost, through the close friendship they shared. Oftentimes, Mason came over to Ryder's house. Many times, in fact. Ryder never really questioned why Mason always came over, and why he never went to Mason's. He was just glad to be his friend.

Around fourth grade, it was time to pick an instrument. By his own forgetfulness, Ryder had forgotten to bring the form along for which instrument he wanted to pick. So, he was forced to choose one of the leftovers, and that was the violin. at first, he was embarrassed and angry about it, as he'd wanted to play the trumpet. He was teased mercilessly by his brothers, and by a few kids at school. His parents encouraged it, though, and after this encouragement from his busy parents, he wanted to continue. He became first chair in his fourth grade class, and kept that position almost all throughout his education, from elementary school to high school. As time went on, though, Ryder began to notice a change in his best friend. Something was definitely wrong. However, Ryder was blind to Mason's home-life, and was left to puzzle over what was wrong with his best friend. In this time, Ryder started to pick up another instrument. His brother had left for college, leaving behind a drumset. he'd never let Ryder breath on the set, much less play it. In his brother's absence, though, Ryder began to give it a spin. he banged and clamored, until he fell into his own rhythm. It was just in time too, as he, Mason, and two other close friends from school had started to form a band. This garage band was just a time for them to relax and try things out. This was the band that became the original Mock Soldier.

During this time, Mason was finally able to tell Ryder his problems. He moved in with Ryder, Ryder's parents graciously accepting him. They'd taken after Mason, and were appreciative of how close the two were. Until they graduated from high school, Mason lived with Ryder's family, becoming an extension to them. This was the time that Mock Soldier had begun to get serious. When they were only juniors in high school, they were already being offered promising record labels from various  music businesses. they got signed, and soon made their first album. Things were going great -- he and his best friends were fucking famous. Shows, a large fanbase, and a record. What could be better than that?


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Theme songs

Black Water Falls -- The War on Drugs
You're Not Stubborn -- Two Door Cinema Club
Come on! Feel the Illinoise! -- Sufjan Stevens
Buenos Aries Beach -- The War on Drugs
With a Little Help From My Friends -- The Beatles
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Post  Fool on the Hill Sun Feb 01, 2015 7:39 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Open |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"I can't stand it when you do this to me."

Mason furrowed his eyebrows and paused his music, pulling an earbud out. As he recognized his own voice over the radio, he scrambled to his feet, dumping a dog-eared book onto the floor. He'd almost missed the words to his own band's song because he'd been listening to movie soundtrack music. However, he'd recognized the song, having played it countless times before. The band had to know. "Holy shit! Guys! It's on! We're on the radio! 'Incomplete' is on!" He scrambled down the bus stairs, long legs flailing as he nearly tripped over his own feet. He was still growing, albeit a bit sluggishly at this point, and never seemed to adjust to his height and lanky figure.

They were at their first venue, waiting for the stage to be set up for a soundcheck. Mason had elected to chill on the bus, claiming to want to rest up before the show, but really, it was because he was nervous. He didn't understand why he might be so uneasy, because he'd played dozens of gigs before, but this was a show. As someone had once put it, the difference between a gig and a show was that one made him sound like a musician, the other made him sound like a successful musician. He'd liked that and decided he'd borrow the saying.

Even so, he'd found himself hiding on the tour bus, listening to movie soundtrack music, and reading some book he'd picked up at a discount store a few weeks back. He had no idea where his bandmates were, but he'd find them soon enough. Or, maybe it'd be the other way around. It was possible that they might hear his shouting and come running instead.

He found Savannah first, lounging in the catering tent with a ham sandwich in hand. She was also taking video on her phone, likely for Instagram or some other social media platform that she was on. She was talking about how excited she was for the evening when Mason interrupted. Brief annoyance at the disturbance was quickly replaced by excitement and she took off in search of the other band members, as did Mason.
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Post  Atlas Mon Feb 02, 2015 12:37 am

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Thrilled, nervous ||Location~Outside||_________________________________________

In apprehension, Ryder was stomping his foot on the ground, as if he were stomping on his drum pedal. He'd been on the stage, helping out whenever he could, even if it wasn't his responsibility. He was beyond nervous; his tan face was slightly pale, and even starting to look a bit green. Usually Mr. Calm and Collected, Ryder was nowhere near that now. His stomach was twisted into knots, and his voice was slightly shaky. In all of their bar gigs, he'd never been this way before. Those were just bars; no one was actually listening to them. This, however, was their very first show, and with their rising popularity, there was a big attendance expected. They had nearly sold out too, a brand new feat for their newbie band. In order to try and ease his nerves, he'd been helping out with everything possible, and trying to distance himself from the band. He definitely did not want them to see him like this.

It seemed as if everything was now done, with the soundcheck winding down and the hustle and bustle calming. Trying to seem at ease, Ryder put his hands behind his head. This was to no avail, though, as he looked even more green. "Shouldn't have eaten all of that pizza...," he muttered to himself, shutting his eyes in distress. What if they fucked this up? What if he, in his nervousness, caused the band to get off beat? Or what if he broke a drumstick? Did eh even have any extras? These questions kept assaulting his mind. "I'm being so stupid," he muttered, his eyes still shut. While all he saw was darkness, he tried to picture in his mind the masses of people that would soon be in front of them. The screams, the shouts, the euphoria. Truthfully, his biggest fear was to disappoint the fans. He knew there were bands that sounded good on the radio, but when push came to shove, sounded terrible in concert. What if they were to have that destiny? Almost instantly, he berated himself for doubting his friends. Mason was a great singer and guitarist with an infectious personality, and Jayden was the cool, laid-back heartthrob. Savannah was the fun, peppy girl... And who was he? Just Ryder. With a long sigh, he eventually opened his eyes, the empty room soon to fill to the brim.

His thoughts of doubt were quickly broken by shouts that came from his best friend, Mason. Instantly, he thought something had gone wrong. Had Mason broken his leg or something? That would be a disaster, right before their tour. In anxiety, Ryder snapped his head up, but he soon could tell that his friend was happy. He was babbling about their song being on the radio -- their song! Eyes widening in shock, Ryder ran out of the arena, and to the vans where Mason had been relaxing. No doubt he'd been having nerves too. "It's on?!" Ryder echoed, his voice shouting and rising, the palish green color melting out of his face. They were on the radio, the fucking radio! It was surreal, as four high schoolers had rose to top the charts. Well, maybe that was stretching it, but being on the radio was no easy feat. Honestly, Ryder would have never imagined that they'd make it this far. "Oh my god!" he breathed, burrowing his smiling face in his hands. "We're on the fucking radio!" he yelled once again, as he heard the familiar voice of Mason the the crooning guitar smashing out of the speakers. Jayden and Savannah came running too, the shock just as evident on their faces. "This is incredible!" he chuckled, the boy still refusing to stop smiling.

However, it was eventually over, but the awe remained on Ryder's face. he was like a little boy on Christmas Day, eagerly grinning and feeling much better. "I still can't get over how awesome that was," he muttered. "I wonder how many people were listening?" With a glance that fell on each of his friends, he tried to gauge their feelings. Jayden and Savannah looked relaxed, and Mason looked... alright. Now that he was with them, Ryder needed to force himself not to look so uptight. "I see you slackers have been off eating sandwiches and jamming out," he teased, smirking a bit. "I've actually been productive, setting up n' shit. The soundcheck is soon, right?" Jayden confirmed this with a grunt, and even though he tried his best not to show it, Ryder could tell his friend was just as nervous. "We should invent some stage ritual or something," Ryder proposed. "All of the mega bands have them. But it can't be something lame." He turned to Mason, wondering if the leader of their band would suggest anything. Honestly, Ryder just needed to get his mind off the show.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Mon Feb 02, 2015 4:46 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Mason ducked around another corner and nearly collided with Ryder as he made an unexpected appearance. "Dude, holy shit. I can't even begin to express my excitement. Like, I knew our song was on the radio, but to actually hear it or myself. I just-" Mason broke off, voice shaking for a moment. He was such a sap, getting emotional because of his excitement. "We gotta text Mom! She has to know." Mason had gone over to the West household so many times growing up that he began to jokingly call Mrs. West 'Mom' and it became pretty much true. He'd wound up moving into the Wests' house a few years ago, and she'd been more of a mother than he'd ever had with his stepmom.

He was already pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts until he came to 'Mama West', to which he proceeded to tell her in all caps that their song was on the radio. He then opened up his Twitter, where he had already amassed a decent following. He had already tweeted that he was excited and nervous for their first show tonight, but he had a new update to add.

GUYS. I just heard Incomplete on the radio! WHAT? Psyched!!

Mason couldn't fight off the stupid grin on his face, and frankly, he didn't want to, either. He glanced at Ryder again, and then Jayden and Savannah, but didn't get a chance to say anything as Ryder spoke. He knew his best friend was just joking, but he responded anyway. "Dude, no way! I was being productive! I was chilling, relaxing so I don't go onto stage all exhausted or anything. That'd be a boring show. Imagine watching this awesome new band and oh, the lead singer falls asleep on stage. What a snorefest." Mason made a face, raking a hand through his hair.

When Ryder mentioned that they needed to have some sort of pre-show ritual, he frowned, but nodded slowly. "Green Day usually get together into a circle and thank God and usually end by saying how God wanted to see his favorite band perform," he supplied helpfully before shrugging and pursing his lips thoughtfully.

"You know what a haka is, right? Like, if you've ever seen Lord of the Rings: Two Towers, at the start of the Battle of Helms Deep, the Orcs have a Haka. And there's some New Zealand team that does a haka. Basically, it's kind of like tribal yelling and kind of like a battle cry. It's wicked." Mason sounded pretty excited with his suggestion, and he glanced across to Savannah. She was staring at him, giving him a funny look. It wasn't a surprise he'd bring up Lord of the Rings. He was a pretty big fan.

"Don't like the idea? Any ideas? Ryder? Jayden?" Mason couldn't think of anything else. There were some bands that did do prayers, but he wasn't really the praying sort. That didn't mean he didn't believe in God, but he wasn't really a practicing Christian or anything.
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Post  Atlas Wed Feb 04, 2015 1:40 am

Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Thrilled, nervous ||Location~Outside||_________________________________________[/center]

Mason was even more emotional than Ryder, almost unable to convey his words. Smirking a bit at his friend's shaking voice, but on the inside, he felt the same. Hearing your recorded song on an album was one thing, but hearing it for yourself on the radio was completely different. It almost didn't feel like those strangers on the radio were them, they sounded much too perfect and on beat. Performing their songs live, they sounded nearly identical, as they used no autotune or any of the fake shit in the studio. Still, it was completely unreal, and Ryder just gave his friend a friendly little shove. "Don't cry man, you'll have your mascara running like Pete Wentz," he teased, his chocolate brown eyes narrowed in amusement. "You know I'm just kidding, but I'm feelin' that way too." Mason suddenly exclaimed that they needed to text mom, and by mutual understanding, Ryder knew that Mason didn't mean his mom. he meant Mrs. West, who had taken Mason into their house early on in high school. Over time, Mason had just began calling Ryder's mom his own, something that he never minded. It made them sound like brothers, and that wouldn't be too bad.

"Oh yeah, we totally do! You're the better son, you send it," he chuckled, looking over as Mason hurriedly typed out a few of the words on screen. His mother would be delighted, no doubt, as would his father. He couldn't wait for the compliments, as Ryder always needed to fight for attention with his siblings. Now, who was in one of the new and upcoming greatest rock bands of all time? Not John, Katie, or Trey. It was him, him and Mason, and not them. Who would be jealous now? He couldn't help but smirk more form this thought, as he pictured the incredulous screams from his sister, Katie, and the guwwafs and huffs from his two other brothers. No doubt John would claim that Ryder owed all his fame to his brother, as it had been John's drum set that had gotten him started. However, John stayed in a dirty, little garage band, and Ryder and Mason had soared.

Mason got off his phone soon enough, and Ryder had recognized the light blue reflection form his phone. He'd probably tweeted the news on their Twitter account, as it was usually him or Savannah that kept up with the social media. Ryder would pop in with a few witty tweets every now and then, but he mostly liked to stay out of it. He loved their fans unconditionally, but he believed their needed to be a fine line between his rock star life and personal life. Mason kept up the friendly, joking manner, and Ryder felt like they were in grade school once more. Neither could keep the ever-growing smile off of their faces. "If you fell asleep onstage, that's be the end of it," he snorted. "I don't think any amount of clashing cymbals or screams could wake you up. But whatever, "relax" all you want. Maybe I'll come and join you, since I've done my fair share of work for the day."

The whole group murmured their agreement for a ritual. It was their first show, so there was time to make up traditions. Mason immediately delved into Lord of the Rings, and Ryder was perfectly familiar with the haka. They'd watched Lord of the Rings so many times together that he'd lost count. Savannah gave Mason a funny look,as if he'd said something too nerdish to ever come from the lips of a rockstar. Jayden kept up his cool exterior, neither agreeing or denying the suggestion. Jayden was just too damn cool for his own good, but Ryder could tell the other boy thought the suggestion was a pretty good idea. Ryder could easily read everyone like the back of his hand. "Hmm, sounds good to me, if you guys can't think of anything. I can't," he noted, his mind trying to desperately think back to what the other bands did. All he could think of were group huddles, and personally, Ryder thought crazy screeching would be way more fun.

Jayden shook his head, and Savannah didn't seem to suggest anything more. "Well, you guys wanna do a haka then? It's pretty badass, I can assure you." Jayden nodded and smiled, the lip rings on his face shining in the sunlight. What a nerd fest; only Mason would suggest something like that. "Well, rockstar, looks like you've won the ritual. Don't blown your voice out," he chided. It was true though; if Mason ruined his voice before the show, that would suck. "Wanna do it now, or backstage later? God, they're gonna think we're lunatics," he laughed, the features of his face pulled back into their usual grin. Whenever he was around his friends, he felt so relaxed, and already, he felt the pressure of the show lifting off his shoulders.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Wed Feb 04, 2015 7:01 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Mason couldn't help the fact that he was a little emotional over hearing one of their songs on the radio. He knew that they were starting to really grab attention, but hearing it on the radio was the most real thing to happen so far to him to confirm that Mock Soldier was going to make it big. Another moment would happen tonight as he looked out into the audience and saw hundreds of screaming fans. He almost voiced his anxieties about the crowd, but Ryder began to tease him, and he snorted in laughter. "Pete Wentz wears eyeliner, not mascara. And the only time I've worn eyeliner was for a photoshoot. The makeup ladies swear by it, apparently." Mason rolled his eyes at the thought. There was no way in hell that he was performing a concert with any makeup on.

When Ryder told him to text his mom because he was the better son, he cast him a weird look, but didn't say anything. He was fully aware of his best friend's insecurities and drive to gain a little attention from his parents. Mason himself had never really struggled to gain attention from his own parents. If anything, he'd just wanted to be left alone and paid as little attention to as possible, because their attention usually wasn't good. Or, rather, his father's attention wasn't good. His stepmom hadn't really given a rat's ass about him, so long as he did his chores and didn't talk back. He pushed the thoughts away before they could ruin his great mood. His parents weren't a concern of his anymore. He'd gotten emancipated, or declared independent of them a few years ago, though at that point, he'd already moved into Ryder's house.

Ryder seemed amused by his joke about falling asleep on stage, and added his own teasing in. Mason's mouth opened in a mock offended look, and he raised his hands in the universal 'what the hell' sign, before rolling his eyes. "I had to become a heavy sleeper with you fucking snoring like a chainsaw all night." He was exaggerating just for the sake of trying to rile Ryder up a little bit.

Mason didn't get to celebrate his triumph when the others eventually agreed that a haka sounded pretty good, for one of the techs and their tour manager approached to announce that it was time for a soundcheck. Mason confidently followed after the tech, glancing back at Ryder. "I won't throw my voice out, man. Promise. I've got a handful of remedies up my sleeve in case my voice gets rough. None of them are pleasant, but they work alright." He'd already had to use them a few times in the past when Mock Soldier had driven around in a van cross country to do a string of gigs. That was their pre-tour of sorts. This was their first official one; a tour organized by their new label.

Upon reaching the stage, Mason grabbed up his first guitar, running his hands over the black lines that stood out against the white background, and he began to strum at it. His guitar tech had already tuned it, and he played a few chords, listening, before he nodded in satisfaction and changed that guitar out for his second guitar. It was another white guitar with black accenting, but it was rather plain. Mason planned to ask Savannah to sharpie-art it. In the meantime, he'd affectionately nicknamed this guitar 'Savannah' as well, mainly because it was funny and confused people.

Mason waited patiently for the sound tech to give directions. The mics had already been checked by the soundcheck, but only to ensure they were on and sounded clear. The levels would be adjusted to their singing. Mason listened as the sound tech spoke over the godspeaker, instructing them to play so he could set the initial volume. From there, everything would be fine-tuned to both the musicians' liking, and to the front of house's professional opinion.
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Post  Atlas Wed Feb 04, 2015 11:16 pm

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Thrilled, nervous ||Location~Outside||_________________________________________

As soon as they decided on the haka, one of the soundcheck guys came to round up the herd. On the way to the stage, though. Ryder kept talking to Mason. It was essentially the only way he could keep the show off of his mind. He couldn't help but notice the confident swagger in Mason's step, in retrospect to his own slink. Maybe if he acted more confident than he felt, he would gain more confidence? He'd heard of people doing things like that; maybe he'd give it a go. Developing his own sort of confident step, he soon fell into pace, his lanky back straightened and a fake, cocky grin on his face. It was all artificial (and felt stupid), but he knew he'd need to appear confident, especially in front of the fans. No one wanted a wimpy and unsure drummer. Mason snorted in laughter to his comment, causing Ryder to snort back in response. "You know all there is to Pete Wentz, don't you? Biggest fan?" Ryder was one to talk, though, as he'd really looked up to the rockstar during his junior year.

Ryder never noticed the weird look Mason had given him as he'd mentioned about being the better son. It was true though, as Mason seemed to be closer than Ryder was with his own parents. It never really bothered him too much, and when it did, he'd try and convince himself otherwise. he knew Mason's difficult life with his own parents, and he knew how much moving in had positively affected his life. Sure, Ryder got jealous, but he always refused to act on it, with mMason at least. With his siblings, though, he became moody and detached from them when their sports games or activities took precedence over his orchestra concerts or gigs. He could count on his fingers the number of times his parents had actually shown up to important events in his life, and although he understood, it still hurt. So, it had been no surprise when his parents couldn't attend their first snow, or any of them, it looked like. It was always work that came first, and then usually his sister Katie, older brother John, or Mason.

"If I snored like a chainsaw, then what were you? You were not a kitten, I assure you," he teased back equally, sticking out his tongue. "I swear, you talked nonsense in your sleep like 5 times a week. It was either that there were aliens invading, or that you'd lost your favorite pair of underwear." Like Mason, Ryder was exaggerating a bit, but they both knew it was on good fun. Mason also assured him of throat memories, which was a comfort to know. Ryder couldn't imagine having to sing every night; it sounded like a huge pain in the ass. Plus, he didn't have the best voice to begin with. Smashing things repeatedly for hours could get tiring, but singing and talking constantly were ten times worse. "Glad you got your remedies, dude. It'd really suck if your voice got screwed up. It'd break millions of hearts across America." To this, he gave Mason another grin, grasped his shoulder briefly, and then hopped on stage.

The entire soundcheck process was a pain in the ass, yet also really important. He made his way over to his assembled drum set, and hopefully it had been tuned by one of the drum techs. Putting his ear close to the drumheads, he gave them a few quick beats with his sticks. So far, so good. The techs were off to a good start so far; he'd have to thank them after the show. However, the subject of volume still remained, and if they wanted to be heard over the crazed fans, they'd need to pay attention. In the process they'd done it before, the drummers usually went first. As Mason investigated his guitar, Ryder began to hit his drums harder, and louder. He checked the kick and snare drums, playing as loudly as they'd rehearsed. Barking commands came from the head sound tech, and Ryder adjusted his volume every now and then. Ultimately, they deiced that the drums should be slightly louder, since the beat would be hard to hear over all the noise. His sound monitor was on his ears, yet not turned on yet. They'd have to tweak that as soon as all of the other instruments got out of the way. Eventually, Ryder and the soundcheck were able to get the volume of the drums up to the desired and practical sound level. For now, his work was done, and it was Savannah's turn to get her bass up to where she needed it to be. Ryder didn't want to talk much, so he wouldn't disrupt the concentrative setting, but he caught Mason's eye and proceeded to put his hand up to his neck, pretending to strangle himself in dark humor. Honestly, he couldn't wait until they were ready to go; every moment in the soundcheck was painful.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Thu Feb 05, 2015 6:21 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Mason had adjusted his pace to drop to walk beside his best friend. He'd noticed the change in stride that Ryder made as he suddenly began to walk with more confidence. He didn't comment on it, however, and just let it slide. It'd do no good for him to question Ryder about his sudden and newfound confidence. He might appear relatively graceful at the moment, all lithe and smooth as his long legs carried him forward. That wasn't always the case. In the event of climbing out of a vehicle or navigating stairs, he couldn't seem to control his legs very well. He'd been teased and likened to a newborn giraffe now and then, and was seemingly just as clumsy at these times. So long as he wasn't climbing out of vehicles or going down the stairs, he could be described as having control of himself. Running was another thing that he lacked grace in. He was all flailing limbs without any real sense of form.

Ryder teased him about his knowledge of Pete Wentz and he shook his head. While he knew Ryder was just poking fun at him, he felt he needed to defend himself a little. His pride was at stake. "No, man. You've got it all wrong. I'm not Pete's biggest fan. I haven't googled his junk like girls did back in like...what was it...2007 when photos were leaked of his dick? No thanks." He shook his head and skipped forward a few steps. "Anyway, I know the difference between mascara and eyeliner. Lashes are different than just around the eyes. Everyone knows that, dumbass." There was no heat in his voice when he called Ryder a dumbass. It was purely affectionate at this point.

Ryder seemed to rile up at Mason's comment about him snoring like a chainsaw, and immediately cracked a joke of his own. This, of course, got Mason laughing, mouth wide open and cheeks dimpling. "Oh, gee, poor you. Having to listen to me talk non-stop. That's pure gold though. From what you say, there are a few gems in what I've said." Apparently, back in ninth grade, when Mason was sleeping over -for this was before Mason had moved in to the West household- he had begun to recite small snippets from Romeo and Juliet, and still occasionally made references to Hamlet, too. He was a literary lad through and through, and another frequently used phrase of his was "old sport" from The Great Gatsby. It'd earned many teasings from the other three members of Mock Soldier, but Mason didn't care. He still thought it was hilarious.

Mason nodded at the mention of having his remedies, and tactfully chose to ignore the comment about breaking millions of hearts across America. That was a huge exaggeration. He wasn't that loved. "Yeah, well, I'd be shit out of luck if I didn't know a few remedies. Vocal strain is my biggest concern during this tour. But I guess there's Throat Coat, which is a tea that, from what I hear, is very unpleasant. There's always honey, but that's just more for sore throat. Aloe vera. I learned that from some girl in choir." Mason shrugged. He had a few more remedies in mind, but he didn't bother to name them all. "And you, man. You gotta take care of those arms. Without you, we're screwed." Mason could play drums, but not nearly as well as Ryder. He could keep a beat and all, and improvise his own rhythms, but he could never play with the confidence that Ryder had. If they had a drum off, which would be insanely fun, he knew, he'd have his ass handed to him by Ryder. Still....it was an idea to keep in mind.

"What if we had a drum-off one of these days for the concert? Fall Out Boy does that. Their lead singer was a drummer before his talent for singing was discovered. So he and their drummer have a drum-off." So much for storing the idea away for later. Typical of Mason, he just blurted out his thoughts without giving them much more thought. Savannah rolled her eyes as Mason mentioned Fall Out Boy. It was fairly evident that he was quite fond of the band. He counted them among his influences.

Mason briefly checked the sound of his second guitar 'Savannah' to ensure that it too, was in tune, before he fell still and silent to watch the soundcheck take place. Ryder seemed quite confident at the moment, perched at his drumset. There was always a certain level of freedom in the drummer's face as he played, and Mason always found himself smiling as he watched his best friend rock out. Music had always been an escape for Mason, and it seemed to be one for Ryder as well. He had real talent and he was making it big in a way that his older brother never would. One day, Mason hoped Ryder could see just how brilliant he was. He had such potential and that could only be improved upon, if he only realized it for himself.
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Post  Atlas Sat Feb 07, 2015 4:13 am

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Somewhat excited, amused ||Location~On stage||_________________________________________

Ryder kept up his confident stride until they reached the stage, with no comments from Mason, luckily. Mason's astute observations were quite correct; when it came to any sort of stairs or running, Ryder looked like an awkward, discombobulated giraffe. The tall boy had difficulty controlling his lanky legs and flailing arms, often making him look ridiculous. When seated, though, he developed a completely different aura -- one of confidence and stability. With a grin, Ryder noticed how Mason continued to back up his position. Laughing lowly, Ryder just listened; he'd let Mason win this one. "Well, dumbass," he started, throwing back the affectionate insult at his best friend,"At least I know the difference between Macbeth and Hamlet. Remember when you used to recite that shit? I swear, in the middle of the night, you suddenly went on about "that damned spot" or your Romeo. God, how in the hell did you do that?" he continued to laugh, bringing his face into his hands. As they continued to speak, they got dirty looks from the sound technician, who was busy working with Jayden and Savannah.

There were a shit ton of vocal remedies, ones that Ryder had never even heard of. He listened pointedly, just in case Mason would ever need to sue these. His bushy eyebrows rising in surprise, he uttered,"Aloe Vera? I thought that was just for your skin? Well, I guess you learn something new every day. Yeah man, definitely take care of your voice. You wouldn't want me taking over." To this, he snorted a bit, wincing slightly at the idea of his rough voice singing into a microphone. It would be a complete disaster; that's why they were skilled at different things. "My arms?" he echoed, looking slightly surprised at Mason's response. Well, he'd never thought of it before, but yes, keeping his arms in good condition would be important. never before had he thought of playing night after night; he practiced a lot, but he always gave himself breaks in between. On the road, there would be no breaks. What if he sprained something in his arm? That would definitely suck. Perhaps Mason could cover for him, if it came down to it? He knew Mason was pretty good, but he had no idea if he could sing and play drums at the same time.

Once again, his eyebrows shot up at a challenge. Although it was clear who would probably win, Ryder would love to. "Yeah yeah, of course I know about fall Out Boy. You jabber about them every day." However, a wide grin was upon the boy's face. Thanks to growing up with tow brothers, he had become very familiar with challenges. These often ended with him loosing to his brothers, but he enjoyed them all the same. Even though he knew he'd probably beat Mason, it would be fun to see how close Mason could come to the drummer. If the tables were turned, and it were a guitar or sing-off Mason would hand his ass to Ryder. They both simply had different strengths, to which contrasted perfectly. Ryder liked being pushed to preform his best, on the one thing he knew he had for sure talent at. "A drum off? That sounds like fun!" To this he gave a little rattle to his cymbals, which had stayed perfectly in tune. "When do you want to meet your maker? Now or later?" Another frown was shot their way by the sound technician, and Ryder refuted,"Consider it warming up!"

Ryder kicked back on his drum seat, trying to make himself as comfortable as he could as the sound check painfully went on. He grinned widely like Ryder, the ghost of the childhood boy. Just like Ryder had the illusion of confidence on stage, so did Mason. Whenever his best friend opened his mouth to sing, or whenever he played a simple chord on his guitar, the crowd went wild. Although Mason's back was usually facing him whenever they played, he could tell by the minute movements in Mason's back and shoulder's, the wide, long jumps and fanatic handclaps; he was totally free. he went wild, much to the dreams of the crowd. In short, he was the perfect frontman for a band, with both the personality and the appearance to shoot them to stardom. "Feeling in the mood to try the drum-off tonight? It would be a good way to rile up the fans. Sounds like a good "first concert" sort of thing." If they even were to do a guitar off, Ryder knew few chords and simple riffs to get his point across. However, he'd inevitable loose to Mason's hefty guitar work, so they'd look evenly matched onstage. "Your choice dude," Ryder said with a little shrug, the sparkle of excitement in his eyes. Now, he was feeling a different emotion for the concert, and that was the excitement and thrill of playing with his best friends.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Wed Feb 11, 2015 10:45 pm

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Mason rolled his eyes at Ryder's additional input to his sleep-talking. He had no idea why he sleep-talked so much, or how he could possibly recite Shakespeare in his sleep, but had difficulty doing the same in class. He might be able to memorize song lyric stanzas and sing those on stage with confidence, but in class, he had a strange inability to recite Macbeth in his eleventh grade lit class. His teacher had thrown a small fit about that in class once when Mason froze up and blanked out. By then, Mock Soldier had already done a performance at their school's talent show. His English teacher had been one of the judges, so she'd seen the band perform. She'd spent a good five minutes ignoring the rest of the class and asking him in ten different ways how he could play a guitar and sing song lyrics that he'd memorized, but couldn't recite simple Shakespeare. Thankfully, she didn't know about the sleep-talking, or she'd likely have ranted for twice as long.

The lead singer nodded in agreement when Ryder repeated one of the remedies. "Yeah. I haven't used it yet, but from what I hear, it's pretty nasty stuff to gargle." He grimaced at the thought. Gargling anything was not ideal to him, but then, Mason had his own problems. He had a relatively quick gag reflex, and he was fairly positive that if he had problems gargling salt water when he had a sore throat, then disgusting aloe vera was going to be a huge problem. He was distracted from the thought though, as Ryder expressed surprise about is arms, as if he hadn't considered that his arms might be important, being a drummer and all. Mason flexed his arms as if he were a weight-lifter showing off his muscles, and dipped his head. "Yeah, man. Your arms. If your arms fall off or something, we're screwed. You're irreplaceable." He sounded rather sincere, but, because it was Mason, he had to tack on something else. "Plus, y'know, you might look a little goofy if your arms just dropped off during a concert or something. The audience would be screaming, but not because we rock."

A wry and somewhat sheepish grin crossed Mason's face when Ryder insisted that he talked about them all the time. It was true, of course, but it was always kind of awkward for Mason when others pointed out that he talked about them -and other bands- constantly. He shrugged one shoulder, but excitement shot through him when Ryder agreed that a drum-off would be pretty cool. He was instantly sidling closer, at least so he wouldn't have to talk so loud, and perhaps placate the irritated sound technician. He was fully aware that he should be quiet, but there was no need to be so hostile. Even still, he did near Ryder, resisting the urge to pluck at the chords on his guitar. Even a light contact to the strings produced some sort of sound, and he particularly enjoyed the soft, metallic whine-squeak as he dragged his finger over a string. "So, drum-off," he began, and leaned forward. "I definitely don't think it should be tonight, because we don't have time to put out another drum set, and, not to mention, our whole set list is already done. The techs will flip shit and that pyrotechnician guy and the light guys probably won't appreciate it too much if we do this, because everything has to be as visually appealing as it is...sound....appealing." He stumbled over the words, unable to think of the synonym for sound.

He did think that there should be a drum-off at some point in the tour, but it probably wouldn't be for another few stops. He would use that time to brush up on his drumming skills. He would more than likely steal Ryder's drum pad and a set of drum sticks and do that during down time. He nodded to himself and turned when his name was called. It was his turn for the soundcheck, finally, which meant that, after this, it'd just be vocals and they could relax for a few more minutes before being called to stage for the concert.

He followed the sound tech's directions, waiting until told to play a few chords. "Is that enough monitor?" He asked, glancing toward the other band members. They'd need to hear his guitar in their earpieces so they could all stay together. It sounded good to him over his earpiece, and he flicked out his tongue for a moment in thought, while something was adjusted. Finally, he was permitted to play a quick melody on his guitar. Everything, thankfully, was going quite smoothly now that Mason was focused on his music for the time being. He had, for the time being, forgotten all of his nerves about their first big concert.
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Post  Atlas Tue Feb 17, 2015 7:17 am

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Somewhat excited, amused ||Location~On stage||_________________________________________

From teasing to actually caring about each other, they'd gone full-circle. Ryder placed the drum sticks upon one of his drum heads as he politely crossed his arms and listened to Mason's throat remedies. Ryder had to gargle fluoride every morning, and he couldn't imagine having to gargle anything more than that. In sympathy, he screwed up his face as Mason described how bad Aloe Vera could be. Suddenly feeling glad that he wasn't a singer, Ryder mussed his hair and grunted in agreement. "I can imagine it must taste like shit. Man, that's going to suck big time when you have to deal with it." His arms didn't even seem like a big deal in contrast. sure, if they didn't have a drummer, the band would fall apart, but... The likeliness of him injuring his arm compared to the chances of Mason straining his voice were very slim. However, Mason seemed pretty sincere as Ryder continued to ponder the subject. "Guess I never really thought about it.. We'll all just have to be careful, I guess." By nature, Ryder wasn't cautious, but at all costs, he wanted to preserve their bodies for the fans. Their bodies were temples, and needed to be treated as such. However, the good-natured joke from Mason sent a snort through his mouth. "I'd be some lost, misplaced t-rex with no arm capability," he chuckled, his white teeth drawn back into another one of his famous, cheeky smiles. This was one main reasons why Mason was his best friend; he could make him feel better by laughing, and already, the fore coming concert seemed like only a distant thought.

Mason seemed sheepish and slightly embarrassed as Ryder insisted that he was obsessed with his bands. However, Ryder saw why, and he was obsessed with them too (but not to the same extent as his friend). Mason hadn't teased him (too badly) for his reverence and love of the famous violinists like Joshua Bell and Itzhak Perlman. As much as rock music and drumming were important to Ryder, the violin was equally important, and Mason never teased him too much. For that, Ryder was grateful, so he decided to back down a bit on Mason's bands. Everyone needed someone to look up to. The topic had now changed to the drum-off though, and Ryder had now picked up his sticks again, and was eagerly twirling them around in his hands. His excitement was unperturbed as he kept considering the possibilities of their drum off. He and Mason would be doing the same thing, both enjoying themselves beside each other. Ryder wouldn't be in the back; he'd be right next to Mason, sharing the same spotlight as him. He'd never admit or acknowledge it, but deep down, he knew he was slightly jealous of all the attention Mason got. He didn't notice it too much yet, and overall, he was okay with it. However, things are bound to change, and unbeknownst to hi, he'd feel very differently as time went on.

It wasn't meant to be for the first show, though. Ryder understood, slowly nodding his head. It would be unprepared and last-minute; they couldn't do that to the rest f the band. Jayden was looking stressed enough as a guitar tech came up and attempted to help with with a bust string. Mason inched forward to Ryder, as the attention was now focused off of him. They were talking like to mischievous school boys, eager to avoid punishment and continue conversing. "Yeah, I agree," Ryder chimed, feeling slightly less excited, yet still pumped for the upcoming drum-off. His hair was swooped directly above his eyes, bouncing back and forth as he nodded and talked. He had washed it for a long time the previous night before; he needed to be attractive for their lady fans. Who wanted an ugly drummer? "Bob doesn't look too happy," he chuckled lowly, as he glanced over to the cross, overweight sound tech, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "I guess the rest of the band wouldn't be too ready either. Besides, you need to practice if you want to get anywhere near me," he teased, sticking his tongue out slightly. "When you're ready to challenge me, though, I'm always ready." He could never remain serious for too long. Their sound would need to be synchronized, though, with the lights and pyro explosions. At the sudden thought of fire, Ryder teased,"Also, another thing to add, young grasshopper. When you're running across the stage, make sure you don't singe your eyebrows off. I can't imagine the fans would like that." However, the small thought of fire being potentially dangerous was somewhat concerning. They'd never had pyro technicians before, as their others shows had been small bars ones. Would it be possible for something to go wrong? However, he quickly brushed it off his mind; there was no need to get worked up over something so slim. But then again... Hadn't Michael Jackson gotten badly burned at one of his shows? It seemed as if he just couldn't get his mind off of the impending show.

The sound tech came back over to Mason, and they were shortly interrupted as Mason checked some chords. The monitor was raised, and fro a few minutes, Ryder fell silent as Mason got his guitar into order. Once the boring chords were done, Mason started to playa quick tune on his guitar. He was immensely talented, that was for sure. Almost instinctively, Ryder joined in with his own beat, improvising as Mason continued to play his notes. A small smile made its way onto Ryder's face as the two, best friends and nearly brothers, jammed out with each other. With each downward stroke of his stick, he felt more empowered and at ease, and it was as if Mason felt the same. "Can we just play now?" Ryder called out over the crashing cymbals and crooning notes. He hoped so; he just wanted to play and chill before they started.
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[ ρɾεlυḋε ] ✖✖✖ { a 1x1 between Atlas and Fool } Empty Skipping to the Concert...

Post  Fool on the Hill Tue Feb 17, 2015 8:04 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

The soundcheck had seemed to last for ages, at least in Mason's opinion. And yet, at the same time, it'd gone by too quickly. When they were ushered off the stage for another twenty minutes, Mason had headed for the refreshment tent. He'd been too worked up to eat anything since breakfast that morning, but he was still so nervous that the very idea of eating a sandwich of cold cuts had his stomach turning. He had, instead, nursed a water bottle, sipping at it while he sat, knees bouncing nervously. As the minutes ticked by, he could feel the tremors increasing, and a highly unpleasant jolt of adrenaline shot through him as he was called to the backstage area. Nearing the stage, just hearing the sound of the audience beyond that was terrifying. His face paled and his hands shook as he accepted his guitar. He double-checked that the strap was on and he glanced toward each member of the band, trying desperately to conceal the panic gripping his face. He was so nervous, and oh, shit, they were being told to go on stage. He drew a deep breath and forced himself to put on that sunny facade of his, bounding out onto the stage.

He almost stopped dead at the size of the crowd, breath catching in his throat. The volume increased as they came on stage and something in him seemed to settle. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. He leaned closer to the microphone and spoke into it, relieved when it, did, in fact, work. It'd be a perfect disaster for the mics to malfunction at the start of their first concert on tour.

"Alright, guys. Let's say we get this show on the road, yeah?" Cheers met his words and he let out a soft, short laugh, before strumming the opening chords to the opening song on their album "Prophet." The music was, in a way, similar to Fall Out Boy's Phoenix off the Save Rock and Roll album, though Mock Soldier's own song had been released the year prior. It was only similar in the way that it had a heavy beat and driving line to it, something to really amp the crowd up. The melodies were entirely different, and yet, they gave that same feel. It pulled the listener in, inspired excitement and energy, and that was exactly what Mason needed.


"Let me out now. Let me out now. I'm crying, get me out now."




Mason was honestly stunned by the crowd's reaction. He'd nearly stumbled over the lyrics to 'Incomplete', when everyone began to sing along. He hadn't realized that so many people would listen to their music enough and care enough to sing along, and something in his chest had loosened. The audience seemed to hang on every word he sang, and their bodies moved in time to the beats that Ryder laid out. They sang over the heavy bass and rocked to the complicated guitar chords. They actually loved the music and Mason was trying not to conceal his glee and shock.

He glanced back over his shoulder at Ryder and then toward the rest of the band, before leaning back toward the microphone. Sweat clung to his skin and his hair was damp, curling ever so slightly and sticking to his forehead. "We're going to slow things down a little. Do you guys know 'Mother?'" The song was something rather bittersweet. Mason had written this one himself, every last note. The fans might not realize the meaning behind the song, but it was Mason's way of dealing with the utter shit he'd been dealt through his own parents. Granted, the majority of it had been from his father, but Mason's stepmother hadn't exactly hidden her unwillingness to be a parent from Mason. The West family had been the only true family that Mason felt he had.

That song was emotionally draining and Mason was quiet for a moment after the last guitar chord and cymbal died out. He let out a soft sigh, just barely caught by the mic, and ran a hand through sweaty hair. "God, you guys are fantastic! Anyway, I just wanted to thank you all for being so great and making our first stop on our first real tour so memorable! You already know from the banners and your tickets and all that jazz, but we're Mock Soldier. I just want to take a moment to introduce this crazy, wonderful band. These guys are my family and I am so lucky to have them. Over there on the guitar is Jayden. He's a cool guy and ladies, he's single right now." Mason winked, though he wasn't sure if the audience would even be able to see from that far away. The gesture was implied, however, and several girls screamed, hands thrown in the air.

"This pretty lady over here on the bass is the incomparable Savannah Bo Banana. Just kidding. It's just Savannah. She's one tough girl, putting up with all of us. Right, 'vannah?" She flipped Mason off good-naturedly, and he grinned broadly, laughing a little. He blew a kiss in her direction, and she turned her back on him. It was all in jesting manner, however, and the crowd seemed to love it. That was a talent of Mason's. He was able to get a rise out of people in exactly the way he wanted. He grinned and turned back to the mic, waiting a moment for the noise to die down a little.

"That guy in the back is the drummer." It seemed like that was all Mason was going to say about Ryder, for he stepped back for a moment, as if he were done. Suddenly, he leaned in again. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is my best friend and brother, Ryder West. Don't know where I'd be without him, but I certainly wouldn't be on beat." Again, Mason managed to draw a laugh from some of the audience, and he grinned proudly when the crowd cheered for Ryder. He let out a soft hum and stepped back, finished with what he had to say. He wasn't about to introduce himself to the crowd. He'd just go on and on about how great he was, jokingly, of course, but he figured, somewhat cockily, that they probably knew his name already. Savannah had said his name earlier, after all. He needed no intro.
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Post  Atlas Fri Feb 20, 2015 11:30 pm

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Somewhat excited, amused ||Location~On stage||_________________________________________

The clock ticking faster, and no matter how many slices of pizza Ryder ate, the concert was no farther away. at the beginning of the day, it had only been a small thought, buzzing back and forth in his mind like a fly. Although it was persistent and annoying, their first show on the rise to stardom wasn't too prominent at first. Now, though, in the mere hours leading to it, Ryder felt positively ill. Mason didn't look too great either; he'd opted out of eating, nursing a small water bottle in his arms. Ryder kept up his calm and collected facade, but on the inside, it felt as if he was spiraling out of control. Under careful observation, one would notice that Ryder's hands were trembling, and his face a greenish tinge. However, he kept up the jokes at the table, lest someone notice his nerves. He was the drummer; he needed to keep everyone on track. If the others knew how scared he really was, they would never let him live it down. He always made fun of those who got worked up for gigs; his calm nature never allowed him to be anything more than uneasy. Now, however, he couldn't process any other emotion.

To his dismay, it was time to get the show on the road. He followed the rest of the band silently; only the screams of the massive crowd could be heard. Mason was ahead of him, his back facing Ryder. For all of hi bounces and prances, Ryder knew he was just as scared. Everyone was, from himself to Jayden, the two most relaxed people in the band. Ryder felt like a racing horse in the race stalls, ready to bolt. Any moment more spent backstage would drive him crazy. He needed to face his fear. Mason moved out first, denying Ryder the opportunity to give his best friend a little pat on the shoulder. While the rest filed out to the front, Ryder was left alone in the back. For fuck's sake, he didn't want to be alone. He wanted to be up with Mason, Jayden, and Savannah, his best friends. not the guy just stuck in the back corner. Upon walking out on stage, the roaring in his ears was drowned out by the frantic screams of the fans. His eyes were temporarily blinded by the bright stage lights, and for a moment, all he could do was stare expressionlessly and blindly at the stretching seats. How many people had come to see them? Ryder had never seen so many people in his life.

Quickly, he took his seat at his drums. Trembling, he lifted his drumstick. Oh god, what if he couldn't hold it correctly? What if he let go and it flew off stage. "Calm down man," he muttered to himself while he fiddled with his cymbals. Mason had already started, and despite his nerves, eh sounded confident. His voice was met with a scream from the fans, causing a small smile to come upon Ryder's face. Maybe it would't be too bad. If anything, their mistakes might be forgotten by the hysterical fans. However, he couldn't afford to think about that now. It was time to begin, and time for him to set off the beat. "1, 2, 3!" he counted, mimicking the countless drummers he'd seen counting off. Then, he let his body take control, and mind ebb away. The boy brought down his arms with a powerful crash, thus beginning the song. He hammered away at each drumhead, while his foot tapped the pedal to the beat. It wasn't so hard, once he started! Mason started ripping out chords, while Savannah and Jayden strummed and danced to Mason's voice. The crowd was grooving along to the beat, nodding their heads as the melodies of Jayden and Mason's guitar playing crept into their ears. Mason's voice soared and rocketed, powering through the amphitheater. Over the noise, Ryder's sharp ears were able to detect the voices in the crowd, singing along to incomplete. An earth-shattering grin broke across his face, and his beats steadied themselves. This was an utter boost of confidence, to hear these people singing the song. They knew it almost better than he did. Soon, the concert anxiety disappeared, and Ryder was having the time of his life, hitting things and preforming with his friends.

They powered their way through their setlist, leaving them at a slower song called 'Mother.' Ryder though it was extremely brave of Mason to play this song live, as it was very personal. Ryder knew Mason had been at one of his worst times when he'd written the song about his abusive and neglectful parents. If Mason hadn't moved in with them, he had no idea what would have happened. Ryder gave the slow, calming beat as Mason's now-vulnerable voice crept across the stadium. Save for the singing and the instruments, it was now dead-quiet. Although the fans might know exactly what the son was about, they could tell it was deeply personal. None o them were talking, on their phones nothing. their attention was focused on Mason as he moved from lyric to lyric, each heartbreaking. Ryder felt for him, sympathized with him. Ryder had met both Mason's father and stepmother on a few occasions, and they were not nice by any stretch of the imagination. Once Mason was finished, it was met with more screams form the fans. Many had gotten emotional, with girl's makeup running down their faces. It had truly been emotional, and although the song was slow for a rock band, it had been one of the most impactful and memorable songs from the entire concert.

The night eventually wound to a close, with Ryder shaking from a combination of exhaustion and satisfaction. Their first show had succeeded, and with flying colors. Mason went to thank the fans for such an incredible night, and Ryder gave a little rattle of his cymbals in agreement. The fans screamed and laughed at this little display, making Ryder feel happier than he had in ages. Finally, Mason got his way around to addressing the members. He went from the cool and attractive Jayden to the firecracker-like, beautiful Savannah. The tow had some playful stage banter, with Savannah flipping off the lead singer. A laugh and goofy grin were the response form Ryder; seeing the two good-naturedly go at it was hilarious. When he got to Ryder, Mason was brief. It was weird; he'd expected for Mason to say his name, at least. Maybe this was Mason's way of getting back at his teasing from earlier? Just as it looked as if Mason were to walk away from the mike stand, Ryder heard his amplified voice again.

Mason made a longer introduction for Ryder, and at each kind word Mason said, Ryder couldn't feel happier. Everything Mason said was the trust; they were truly brothers. This uncharacteristic display of emotion was overwhelming, after the crazy night. Ryder stood up from his seat and made his way out to the front of the stage, where everyone else stood. "Thanks man," he murmured in Mason's ear as he gave him a hard, yet friendly hug. It was quick and manly, not suggesting anything more than a close friendship. The crowd was hysterical at this display of friendship but Ryder couldn't care at the moment. It was just him and his best friend. After he'd quickly let go, to make sure it wasn't awkward, he made a little bow. The show was over, and Ryder could honestly say it had been one of the best nights in his life. Mason never introduced himself, so Ryder took the honors. It was the first thing he'd said to the fans all night. "And here, ladies, is your attractive singer, Mason Wells. He stole my thunder a bit, but that's okay. He's truly my brother -- we've been through thick and thin. I couldn't ask for a better bandmate, or best friend. We're so glad you made time on your busy evenings to come see us. Me and my friends can't be any happier. Thank you so much! Goodnight!"

They were led off stage, as a crashing euphoria was sent through Ryder's body. "We actually did it," he murmured in disbelief. It felt so surreal, one moment being in a crowded noisy room, and now to be in the silent backstage. Ryder looked eagerly to every band member his eyes eventually resting on Mason. "Oh my god, we kicked ass! That was so amazing." He drew his sweaty hands through his damp hair, trying to make sense of it all. This was their first show, of many more to come. If every one of them went as well is this, it would be a miracle. "Who wants to celebrate? I've got some beers in a cooler on the bus." Ryder wasn't yet of age, but there was no one to stop them. Their manager was chill about drinking, as long as they weren't intoxicated when they preformed. Ryder felt a great need to relax and goof off with his friends, and there was no better way to do it than drunk. He walked over to Mason, gave his hair a little affectionate ruffle, and grinned. "Great job dude, you were great. You all were." He felt like some father, proud of their child. He'd never felt this way in his life, so exhausted, yet happy. There was no going back to gigs now.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Sat Feb 21, 2015 4:24 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Before the concert, Mason had been fully aware of how uneasy Ryder was. As much as the drummer liked to think he was Mr. Calm and Collected, Mason knew him well enough to read into how nervous he was. He didn't say anything as the drummer scarfed down slice after slice of pizza though. He might have liked to warn him not to eat too much before rocking out, but figured that it wouldn't help if he said as much. Just so long as Ryder didn't wind up projectile vomiting on the stage. That would not go over well with the audience and especially not for their first real show. That'd end up on YouTube and that's all Ryder would ever be known for.

Stunningly, the concert had gone very well. There hadn't been any issues with lighting, sound, or, thankfully, pyrotechnics. Mason was rather glad that he would walk away without his eyebrows singed off. He'd been so nervous just before the concert that he'd felt that familiar, horrible tightening up of his chest, but he'd managed to hold it together. Everything had begun to dissipate as soon as they began to perform, but nothing had fully hit Mason until the audience had begun to sing along. He'd almost gotten choked up hearing the audience sing right back at him, hands in the air. The rush of happiness and just sheer awe had threatened to sweep him away, but he'd managed to smile through it and continue his performance. He'd cast glances back at each band member often during the performance and, had, during solos or breaks in singing, wandered the stage, interacted with his members, made sure to include Ryder. He'd neared the drum stand, facing Ryder, and made faces while he strummed at his own guitar, made as if to steal a drum stick or two, and then returned just in time to sing. It'd been fun.

After Mason introduced the band, he expected to simply walk off the stage, but Ryder had slipped away from his drumset to come stand by Mason. When he thanked him quietly, Mason grinned and punched his arm lightly, in affection. He was, however, stunned, when the drummer leaned forward to speak into the mic, introducing him. He likely would have flushed if his cheeks weren't already quite red from the heat and exertion of performing. He didn't mind the sweaty hug either, because he was in equally rough shape. He almost spoke after Ryder finished to tease him about getting a bit sappy as he spoke, but was ushered off stage, so he only shouted a last farewell out to the crowd before he joined his bandmates off stage.

His guitar tech approached and Mason gratefully handed the guitar over, knowing that his guitar was in good hands. The other guitar had already been removed from stage and put away in its case. It lay backstage, waiting to be packed back up into the trailer. Ryder was talking excitedly about the concert and how well it'd gone. He gave his agreement, albeit a bit tiredly. He felt a little weird now that the concert was over. The adrenaline had yet to leave his system and he felt a little too shaky as he removed his ear monitor and handed it back in to the sound tech that stood offstage. He felt as if perhaps he needed a moment to himself, just to process what'd happened, and put himself back into order.

When Ryder neared him, announcing that they should grab a few beers, and playfully ruffled Mason's hair, he grimaced. "I want a shower so badly. Ughhh. I think this venue has a few showers in the back for us rockstars. No offense, man, but you need a shower. You reek! We all do, though." He gestured to his own sweat-dampened shirt and how hair clung to his forehead and stuck up in damp, light curls. He wanted to change into some fresher clothing after his shower, and then, perhaps, join his best friends for a beer or a couple. He didn't drink often, as he didn't love the taste of beer, but he'd drink if everyone else was.

Mason eventually excused himself from his group, heading for the tour bus to fetch some clothing. He only wished to take a quick shower while everything was being packed up, and then he'd head for the bush immediately after. It only took about five minutes between leaving the band to grab his clothes and actually jumping into the shower. Unfortunately, it didn't run very hot, but that suited Mason well. The cool water helped him clear his mind and stem off that odd panic that wanted to start up despite how well the evening had gone. Even after he'd sung for a good long time that evening, he still felt like singing in the shower. Ryder had made fun of him multiple times, but practicing was how he got better, was it not?

"Screen falling off the door, door hanging off the hinges. My feet are still sore, my back is on the fringes. We tore up the walls, we slept on couches. We lifted this house, we lifted this house. Fire-crackers in the east, my car parked south. Your hands on my cheeks, your shoulder in my mouth. I was up against the wall on the west mezzanine. We rattle this town, we rattle this scene. Oh, Anna Sun!"

He didn't shower for long, just enough to clean the drying sweat from his lanky frame, and wash his hair out before he was stepping out. It didn't take more than a minute to pat down the water clinging to his body, and scramble into his pants. He absently slung his shirt over his shoulder and carried his belongings out toward the bus. He didn't have a lot to show off under his shirt, for he wasn't particularly built, only leanly muscled. Jayden was the one with the six pack and the toned muscle that girls swooned over. Ryder had more muscle definition, too. He had to, whacking away at the drums, too.

He waltzed onto the bus, feeling quite a bit better after his shower. He shook excess water droplets that he hadn't succeeded in drying out, and threw himself down onto the bench beside Ryder, bumping shoulders with him in the process. "What a night, what a night. D'you think any of our fans stuck around in hopes of seeing us? Assuming they actually liked us?" He grinned at the thought. He kind of looked forward to the idea of interacting with fans, signing autographs and taking pictures with them and just receiving a little attention. So long as it didn't turn into some serious Beatles and the Beatlemania shit that'd gone down. Those fans had been crazy from what he'd heard.
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Post  Atlas Sun Mar 01, 2015 7:56 am

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Somewhat excited, amused ||Location~On stage||_________________________________________

The night had gone by like a dream, and now Ryder felt like he was slapped with reality. Like Mason, he was experiencing similar symptoms of post adrenaline rush. The cold air rushed upon his face, soft and tingling, drying the accumulating sweat on his cheeks and on his shirt. His hands trembled and his fists were still clenched, as if he was holding an imaginary drum stick in his hands. The corner of his vision was blurred, everything rushing past him as if he was flying at high speed. In fact, he felt high. 100% high, and he'd never really been high before. Other than a few marijuana trips with Frieda, a notorious drug addict, he'd decided that just wasn't for him. Drinking was more of his thing, and every existential moments yearned for him to have a cold drink in his hand. Nevertheless, his face was still shining and exuberant with joy.

He gave Mason a playful hair-ruffle like he frequently did, earning a little tease from Mason. They were definitely worse for the wear, sweat plastered to their shirts. Personally, Ryder smelled quite ripe, so Mason's jests were in the right. Snickering, Ryder nodded his head in agreement. "Yeah, you don't exactly smell like a patch of strawberries yourself. Well, I'm off to the showers too. Watch out, make sure no girls have snuck into your bathroom." He gave his friend a playful wink, and a gentle, friendly shove before making his way towards the venue bathrooms. It was a foreign concept to him, actually having several showers at venues. At the bars, they'd just have to sit and suffer through their sweat until they got home. "Fancy livin', here we come," he muttered to himself, still grinning at the prospect of having a nice warm shower to relax in.

Ryder changed, turned the faucet, and let out an audible sigh of content as the warm water gushed over his body. He took about twenty minutes longer than usual. He just wanted to stand, relax, and think. All of the fans seemed to have a good time; the question that remained, though, was whether the rest of the shows would live up to this caliber. Ryder puzzled and puzzled this over, until he noticed the accumulating steam on the mirror. No doubt the rest of the band would get annoyed if he used up all the hot water. So, Ryder quickly finished his shower, dried off, and changed into come more casual clothes. From the shower room across the hall, he heard Mason's familiar voice drifting across the hallway. He was singing "Anna Sun" by Walk the Moon, a nice fun, summer song. This brought another snicker to Ryder's face; he always liked to give Mason a hard time for singing in the shower. However, his voice was very good, and it wasn't embarrassing like some other people he knew to sing while in the shower. Ryder did not have a very good voice to boot; it was quite average and somewhat annoying after a while. That's why he left such things to Mason, the attractive singer who had it all.

Ryder strolled out of the bathroom, his hair still slightly wet. He would have never imagined a shower to be so relaxing. Now, he felt properly calmed down after such an exhilarating night. The shakes and surreal feelings had felt his body, the familiar and usual calm coming back to him. Oh, how good it felt to be calm and collected again, as he usually was. Being so nervous was a foreign emotion for him, one that he did not like in the slightest. Hopefully it wouldn't happen too often; he could tell that the others had noticed, even though they hadn't said anything. Lively chattering could be heard from a few steps away as Ryder made a beeline to the bus. It would certainly suck to get left behind. Inside, he heard the excited chatter of band members and roadies alike, It seemed as if he was the last one to get on -- Mason had beat him to it.

Now that they were properly cleaned up, they could talk. Immediately, Mason began to excitedly chatter about the fans. "Do I think they stuck around? I think they might be glued to that floor the whole night. They were cheering long after we left the stage." Ryder chuckled, slicking back his smooth hair, feeling pretty cool. "Man, I thought I saw a couple girls swoon, after the way you looked at them. Granted, I mainly saw your ass prancing around, but when you came back to my little corner, I definitely saw it. Hell, they loved us. They're gonna start some sort of cult, mark my words. Hey, Emerson!" Ryder turned away for a brief second and swiped an unopened can of beer from a roadie. He received a dirty look, as he was an underage drinker but there was no one to re-enforce the rules. In his eyes, Ryder could do virtually whatever he wanted. After popping open the tab and taking a refreshing drink, he already felt the warmth spreading over his body. He'd probably end up going for two, but just enough to make him a little tipsy. As much as he loved drinking, he wasn't a moron. He'd never have a hangover the day of a show; that was irresponsible showmanship.

"You gonna drink?" he asked Mason politely. He knew his friend was never too into the drinking scene, but sometimes Mason liked a sip now and then. No matter, Ryder wanted to kept babbling about the concert. He could talk about it forever. "That really... Was fun." He especially liked how Mason ran back to his drum set, singing, messing around, and including him. Although Ryder would never verbally admit it, he knew Mason probably was aware of his gratitude. Sometimes, being stored away at the back got a little lonely for him. However, with Mason rushing back and forth, it made Ryder feel included, and a part of something bigger than himself. Ryder took another sip as he reflected this, and said afterwards,"I just hope the rest of the shows go this well. That was truly kick-ass."

The bus gave a lurch, signifying that they were already on the way again. Some nights they were going to sleep in the bus, and for others, they would get a hotel. Ryder had no idea what night it was tonight; all he knew was that he wanted to crash, and soon. He was usually a party guy, but after such an ordeal, he was plain exhausted. Ryder plopped himself down upon a couch, waiting for his bro to sit back down next to him. "Think we should text mom? She's probably spazzing out right now." Checking his phone for the first time in a few hours, he was greeted with a bombardment of text messages and social media notifications. His mom had sent him 8 various texts, some of them "Good luck, I'm so proud of you honey!" to "Oh my god, I hear you're onstage now!" texts. No doubt they brought a smile to Ryder's face, and he reported,"Looks like she texted first. 8 times to be exact." There were also the Mock Soldier Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram pages, which were bombing up with pictures of happy fans and concert descriptions.

"We were a hit man!" Ryder showed Mason his cracked iPhone 4 screen, where he scrolled rapidly down with his thumb. Normally, Ryder didn't bother much with their band pages (it was more of Mason and Savannah's thing), but he liked to check in occasionally. This was definitely he night to check, as fans were excitedly reporting their experiences. "This is gonna give us such good publicity," he stated happily, crossing his arms back and leaning his head on them. "Best night ever, man." He held out his fist, waiting for Mason to give the appropriate fist bump. "And just think, we'll do it all again tomorrow." Ryder's eyelids began to become heavy as he fell into a state where he was half awake and half asleep -- awake enough to feel pleasure, but asleep enough to already be dreaming about the next night of fun with his best friends.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Sun Mar 15, 2015 5:49 am

M a s o n
     W e l l s

| 18 years old | crush;; open | male | Position;; Frontman/Guitarist/Lead Singer | tags;; Ryder |
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Mason could never take for granted how wonderful a shower was after a show. He knew that there would be times when they didn't get to shower for a few days, when venues didn't have showers and when they didn't stay at a hotel. He grimaced at the thought of sleeping in three day old sweat and blanched. He didn't like being sticky with sweat and he didn't love the idea of body odor, either. However, at the moment, he was clean and he smelled quite nice, if the approving sniff of one of the female roadies was anything to go by. She was only a little older, and he was almost positive she'd said she sold merchandise, but she seemed content to sit on one side of Mason. She was testing her boundaries, that much was clear. She had a drink in hand and had let one hand creep up to Mason's knee. He paid little mind, thought little of it. His attention was more on Ryder at this point as he returned.

Ryder was definitely convinced that the crowd had been sufficiently entertained by their performance, which pleased Mason. "Bro, I still can't believe it. We're actually doing this. Holy shit. Wow." He straightened up, dislodging the merch girl's hand in the process, leaning in toward his best friend. He made a face of outright disbelief when Ryder insisted that some girls swooned. Clearly, he didn't believe he was half as charming as Ryder seemed to think. "Nah, I'm pretty sure you're the only one that swooned." He prodded the drummer's ribcage with his elbow and leaned forward. "Admit it, you enjoyed the view of my...what did you say? 'Ass prancing?'" He let out a loud laugh, head tipping back in the process, before his expression sobered up a little.

"Ahh...I don't know. I might have one...Looks like Jayden 'n 'vannah are drinking. Hell, everyone is. I might as well." With reluctance, Emerson passed Mason a beer. He grimaced at the taste, but nonetheless, drank a little. He hadn't ever gotten drunk, as, if he did drink, he always limited himself to just the one drink. He didn't doubt that Ryder would eventually try to corrupt him and get him wasted; that or a crew member with less inhibitions might try to. He gingerly nursed his beer in the meantime, sipping now and then with a disdainful expression on his face.

"I am willing to bet that not every show is going to go so well. Shit happens. Tech fails or the fans just aren't feeling it, or, maybe one of us just isn't. We're all going to be stuck together on this bus for the next two and a half months, right? We're bound to piss each other off a bit." Mason absently turned the beer can in his hands, one finger plucking at the tab in thought. He set his beer aside and reached for his phone at about the same time that Ryder did, and he smirked.

"Shit, she left me three messages. Who's the favorite child now, huh?" Mason himself had more notifications from social media than Ryder, but that was because the drummer didn't do as much social media or interacting. Mason, on the other hand, was like Savannah, and kept track of everything, updating often. "The messages are about the same. 'Good luck' and the likes." He sent a quick text back, thanking Mrs. West before wishing her a goodnight, announcing that he wasn't staying up late. That'd reassure Mama West that her boys weren't getting into too much trouble.

Mason took another swill of his beer before deciding that he really wasn't in the mood, and he let out a heavy sigh. He would need to brush his teeth hard to get that taste out of his mouth. "You gonna finish my beer or should I just waste it down the drain?" He figured he might as well ask Ryder before he dumped it. He could tell that Ryder had a light buzz starting and that he was starting to feel sleepy. Mason himself was worn out. He'd planned originally to screw around on Twitter for a while and retweet a few things, but that could wait until morning. He really was tired. He shoved the beer into Ryder's hand without waiting for the answer and almost missed the fist bump that'd been aimed toward him. He tapped fists before heading off to find his toiletries kit. He just wanted to brush his teeth real quick and crawl into bed.

He quickly discovered how difficult it was to brush his teeth on a moving bus and smacked his head on the sink when his toothpaste tube fell onto the floor and he bent to retrieve it. He also succeeded in dribbling toothpaste onto his shirt and almost speared himself in the eye with his toothbrush when the bus driver slammed on the brakes. "Christ Almighty, man!" Mason protested, peeking his head out of the minuscule bathroom. It took only another moment for him to finish brushing his teeth and rinse before he was stumbling toward the bunk. He'd opted against the top bunk as it was difficult to climb into, and had chosen a middle bunk directly across from Ryder's.

He dragged himself up into the narrow bunk and adjusted himself until he was comfortable. He'd been surprised to find enough space for his long legs and body. There'd been doubt that he'd fit in, but he often slept in a scrunched up position anyway. With a soft sigh, Mason rolled over and pushed the small shades open so that he could look out the small window on his bunk, watching the city lights flash by.
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Post  Atlas Sat Mar 21, 2015 6:05 am

||♬Ryder West♬ || ||Age~ Nineteen || ||Position~ Drummer || ||Tagged~Mason | ||Feeling~ Somewhat excited, amused ||Location~On stage||_________________________________________

Mason was still so unable to come to grasp with their success, as was Ryder. It seemed like days ago when they were just practicing in their garage, or playing their instruments on the sidewalks in an attempt to garner money out of passerbys. Now, they had played their first big show, in an actual stadium. They had thousands of avid followers on Twitters, and thousands of views on their Youtube videos. All in all, they were quite successful. It had been a quick rise to stardom. Hopefully, they wouldn't crash under the pressure. However, these thoughts were far from Ryder's buzzing mind. He just wanted to talk with his best friend about their success, drink, flirt, with the girl next to Mason, and drink some more.

"Dude, tell me about it. It's some insane shit goin' on here." with a glance at his phone, Ryder added with glee,"All of the money we rake in might actually go towards a new phone for me." He flashed around his banged up iPhone 4 with a grin, the cracked screen reflecting the fractured image of Mason and the girl sitting next to him. It was no surprise when Mason had dislodged the girl next to him. Mason was charming, but not desperate. As pretty as this roadie was, Mason could do much better. And honestly, Ryder would find it offensive if Mason had acted any other way. Long ago in middle school, they had established the arcane and unbreakable vow of teenage boys -- "Bros before hoes." Nothing aimed at the merch girl, though. She was acting just like anyone would in the presence of a rising star, and an attractive one to boot. However, first things came first, and Ryder was glad that Mason realized that.

"Dude, I don't hand out compliments easily. Take it and run, from such a sincere and charming guy as myself." He gave Mason's shoulder a little pat, all while grinning. "Your ass prancing was absolutely majestic. I'm so glad that I got to witness such a feat." To this, the girl sitting next to Mason screwed up her face and exchanged glances with the two of them. This was just how they teased with each other, with them being so close. "Didn't you know, sweetie? We're dating. He's my gorgeous boyfriend." However, at the last sentence, Ryder burst out laughing, nearly spitting out his drink in the process. He couldn't even finish his sentence; it was so ridiculous to think about. Mason was basically his brother and thinking of him as any other way was absurd. The girl on the couch seemed to realize it was a joke and gaze a little uneasy laugh, et she had been thoroughly creeped out. She rose from her position and sauntered off, probably to Jayden. Other than Mason, Jayden was the one that was always scooping up girls. With an open spot on the couch, Ryder swept in to take his place.

"Nice work there, wasn't it? I'm like a chick repellant," he chuckled as he took another sip of his beer. The more he drank, the more talkative he got. Whether his joke were actually funny or self-deprecating, he'd still make them anyways. No girls had come to talk to him yet, but he didn't mind. It was way better to talk to his best friend than some drunk chick that probably couldn't tell him apart from another guy. Mason didn't opt out of a beer as Ryder expected, causing him to raise his eyebrows in surprise. Mason wasn't a prude in the slightest, but when it came to drinking, Mason usually liked to stay sober. Ryder was much more of a drinking enthusiast, drinking so much on occasion that he needed to be carried home. Unfortunately, Mason had to bear the brunt of these episodes. Now that he was older, though, he could control himself. Ryder would never drink himself to death, especially never on their tour. A hungover drummer could be unravelling of the foundation of the band.

"You're actually gonna drink?" Ryder teased as Mason grabbed a can of beer from Emerson. "Kids sure do grow up fast these days," he gave a fake, theatrical sob and pretended to wipe away a tear. Mason took only a few drinks and Ryder knew that it would be the extent of his alcohol intake. Someday, Ryder would open Mason's blind eyes... "It's a start," he noted with a nod, acknowledging Mason's still more-than-full can. "Such a waste," Ryder continued to tease, giving a mock sigh and shaking his head. He didn't miss the disdainful expression on Mason's face at all. "Man, you've got to have messed up taste buds, cause this shit is dope," he continued to praise the substance hat was making him feel warmer and warmer, closer towards being drunk, yet not exactly making it yet. It was a good thing that Mason was here to keep an eye of him. Perhaps Ryder's self-control wasn't as strong as he thought it was.

They could talk for hours. Now, it was Mason's turn to talk. He expressed the doubts of every show, and the grim reality that not every night is perfect. Ryder agreed with a grunt -- he highly doubted that every night would be filled with hugs and butterflies. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't help but feel hopeful. The beer wasn't helping, increasing his confidence and overall optimism ten-fold. "Yeah, shit happens," Ryder admitted with a sigh, leaning farther back on the couch cushions. "But if it's gonna happen, there's no point in worrying about it. When it comes, it comes. I remember when I had one of my first dorkestra concerts as a kid and I bust my E string. It was right before we started and the teacher didn't have time to put a new one on for me, so I basically faked the whole concerts. Even though it sucked and was the most traumatizing experience of my childhood," he stopped in between to chuckle at the memory of his giant eyes and speechless mouth. Now, it made for a great story. He continued,"it made me a better player. The more you're ready to anticipate, the better you become. Like, 'What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger' shit," he finished, referencing Kelly Clarkson's infectiously catchy song. Even Ryder had to admit that he couldn't pass up Kelly now and then. "Anyways," he finished trying to find some sort of point in his drunken ramble,"Shit happens, but it makes us better. That's enough from your philosophy and music professor tonight, though."

Mason picked up his phone, which had three messages form his mom. Well, it was more like their mom. Funny enough, Ryder didn't have anything. However, he just shrugged this off. He supposed that his mo probably didn't feel like making two different texts to say the same thing. It wasn't personal; she was a busy woman. "Haven't you always been the favorite?" he teased while giving Mason's shoulder a playful jab. He came precariously close to spilling his drink on top of his best friend, yet managed to somehow control his actions. "Whoops, sorry man. Nearly got you there." As a more measured effort, Ryder placed his drink down on the table. It was his second one so he decided that he needed to slow down, lest he wanted to have a hangover the next morning. Mason sent their mother a text and Ryder hastened to do the same. She'd feel very pleased if both did so. Besides, secretly Ryder missed home. As hectic as it was, it was still home, and no other place could ever be that.

They were both fading fast, though. The beer had just slowed down Ryder's senses more, and already he was wishing he hadn't drank so much. Mason was done with trying to enjoy it, and eventually he just pushed it into Ryder's hand. However, at this point, Ryder was much too exhausted to drink it. In a very un-Ryderlike fashion, he just handed the beer to a roadie wordlessly. Like Mason, Ryder felt the need to go to bed and sleep off the euphoria. As amazing as the night was, he was ready to crash. At this point, most other people were clearing out as well. "Shit, glad I'm not the only party pooper," he muttered to himself, his lanky legs stumbling and his clumsy feet tripping over each other. He felt his way down along the hallway until he got to the bathrooms. Mason must have just been there -- the counters were still wet from his toothbrush. Ryder followed suit, dragging out his own toilet tree kit and disinfecting his mouth. After a quick brush, he felt so much better. After all, he needed to keep his teeth nice and white for interviews. After preforming all other necessities, he stumbled into their bunking quarters. They were definitely cramped, something the lanky boy wasn't looking forward to.

Mason was already curled up in a middle bunk. Personally, Ryder would have snatched up the top, but he knew Mason usually didn't like climbing all that way. Middle was just fine, considering all bunks were essentially the same. Ryder climbed his way up the old stairs to the middle bunk. Once he got there, he crawled into the comforting warmth of the sheets and pillows. This here was true security. "Damn, this feels so good... I never thought a crappy old bunk bed would feel this nice, cramped as it it." Mason's eyes were glued to the flashing lights of the cars outside, and for a few minutes, Ryder's eyes gravitated towards the powerful sight as well. Everyone was rushing to get somewhere, with their own lives and destinations. What was theirs, though? The end of the road? What would lie in store for the band?

After several minutes of silence, Ryder sleepily and nearly deliriously murmured,"I feel just like a kid again in these beds... Remember that time you went to Disney World with us? Well, one of the times. We've gone so many times I can't be specific. But it was when we went on the Dumbo ride. I just felt so happy, like I was in control of my own flying elephant and everything. And honestly, no matter what happened, whether I got squirted by those fake camels or whether I got tired or upset... Everything would be alright. That's kinda how I fell now. And for once, I wan't alone on that Disney trip with my siblings. I had my best friend to keep me grounded and that was all that mattered." By now, Ryder had faded out, and he felt his eyes slowly closing in pure bliss. Nothing was greater than this.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Mon Apr 06, 2015 9:30 am


Mason paid very little attention to the slurred speech of his best friend, already half-asleep himself. He was vaguely aware that it was something to do with Disney World and their friendship, but beyond that, nothing else stuck. He sleepily thought about Disney World, recalling just small snippets of memory, before he was fading off to sleep completely. Between being tired after performing a show and the lull of the moving bus, he found everything to be surprisingly soothing. He'd had his fears that he wouldn't get any sleep while traveling, because he normally had trouble dealing with changes, but maybe he was just too tired to care, otherwise.




Morning started for Mason at 5:45am, when someone shook his shoulder. He squinted in the darkness, for none of the overhead lights had been turned on, and opened his mouth to ask their manager why he was waking him up when it was still dark out. The manager leaned close to the gap in the curtain that he'd drawn back, before whispering," You have a phone call. Just you. Radio station just wants a snippet because they plan to play another of your singles later today."

Mason mumbled something incoherent but pushed his privacy curtain all the way open before slipping down off of his bunk, and then making his way over to the little front lounge area. He accepted the manager's phone, drawing his knees up to his chest. "'lo?" He slurred his greeting before clearing his throat, anything to get rid of the evidence that he had just been sleeping. He wanted to sound awake and alert on the radio, after all. When the radio host greeted him back, he perked up, listening when the host told him pretty much what he'd say.

He managed to give a perky-sounding," This is Mason Wells from Mock Soldier. You're listening to 101.9 QNQ FM. Here's our new song 'I've Got You.'" Mason was glad that this song had made it as a single. It sounded like a love song, and it was probably going to be taken that way, but really, it had more meaning to Mason as a way of thanking his best friend for always having his back. He hadn't said anything about it to Ryder yet, but he figured at some point, it'd come up in an interview, and he'd tell it as it was. He was pretty sure he'd told Savannah once, because she'd cornered him and pestered him into admitting that, no, he wasn't crushing on someone and trying to woo them with a song. Jayden, on the other hand, was oblivious; the song's meaning wasn't that important if he could rock out.

A brief interview followed, just asking questions about the upcoming tour and what he looked forward to, and then he was hanging up and shoving the phone back in his manager's hands. He was still so tired, and it was only five after six in the morning, so he made his way back toward his bunk, but found himself continuing past the bunks, to the small back lounge area. He settled himself onto one of the benches, turned on one of his playlists on his phone, and tried to fall back asleep.



He slept for another hour and a half or so, before he was waking up. Something had woken him, but he was too incoherent for the first half-minute to process anything other than the faint ringing in his ears and the heavy sleep-headache he had from waking up earlier for the radio interview. He stumbled through the bunk area and into the front lounge area where the kitchen area was. His stomach was beginning to rumble, but it didn't appear that anyone was going to try to make breakfast at the present time. Some of the crew were already awake and in the front lounge, sipping coffee from a Starbucks. They must've stopped at some point to grab coffee, which he supposed made sense. He didn't drink coffee himself, hating the flavor, though he did tolerate an iced capp on a rare day, which had earned him even more teasing, saying he was more of that stereotypical white-girl than Savannah was. It never bothered him, though.

Mason retrieved a little paper bowl and poured some Cinnamon Toast Crunch in, before grabbing a half-gallon jug of milk that was in the little fridge. He stood with legs braced to keep his balance as the bus bounced along, halfway regretting his decision to try to pour milk on a moving bus. He concentrated fiercely, pouring small splashes every few seconds as he tried not to spill everywhere. It'd be his luck, of course, but he could try nonetheless to not tempt the fates.

Savannah must've woken up shortly after, for she stumbled into the front lounge and sank down beside Mason as he began to eat. She, like Mason, was slow to wake up this morning, and she absently tucked herself in against his side, resting her head on his left shoulder, knees leaning in to rest against Mason's thigh. He gave a quiet greeting but stuck mostly to his cereal. Were his hands free, he might play with her hair a little, something that he was wont to do on the rare occasion.




[ Getting rid of the header, too much work. Sorry for not posting sooner. Also skipping ahead a little. ]
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Post  Atlas Sat Apr 11, 2015 7:14 am

Ryder was never much of a heavy sleeper. Thus, the bus didn't work out well for him. Throughout the night, at every bump and rattle of the bus, Ryder was jolted awake. And in most cases, the lanky boy his head on the top of the bunk. However, around early morning, things had calmed down. He'd been asleep for three solid hours, his sides slowly rising and falling underneath the crumpled bed sheets. He was so wiped; running on three hours of sleep definitely wouldn't be good, especially with their show. The vagabond lifestyle of a band had not quite sunk into his head yet. There would be many more nights just like this one, and a tired Ryder was a crank one. So, he was not very pleased when Mason received a cell phone call at such an ungodly time in the morning.

The lumbering footsteps of their manager into his room were the first sign of awakening. Unconsciously, Ryder pulled his sheets on top of his face, in order to muffle the sound. Then, whispered words. Then, Mason pulling himself out of bed and stepping outside into the lounge, where there were already noises of hustle and bustle. "Ngghhh," Ryder let out a low groan, exhausted and highly irritated. What the hell was that for? However, he was up now, and there was no point in attempting to sleep again. His eyes grumpily opened, revealing the dark circles underneath them. he still hadn't learned his lesson, and before thinking, the tall boy quickly sat up in his bunk. He was whacked hark by the wooden top of his bunk, yet again. Letting out a loud stream of curses, it was a good thing there was no one else in their room. "God dammit!" he bellowed, rubbing the sore and tender spot on his head that he'd bumped like 50 times throughout the night. Now that he was awake, he felt like utter shit. There was a light headache pulsing in his temples, as well as some ringing in his ears, and overall exhaustion.

Checking his phone, he winced at both the bright screen and the time on it. Now, the time was about 6 o'clock in the morning. If he just could've gotten one more hour... "But nooo, Mason decided to fucking get up and talk at this ungodly hour. No, you know what? It's that bastard manager's fault. Who the fuck does he think he is?" Ryder continued to grumble as he clamored out of bed, wobbling over to the right as the ratchet bus made another swerve. "Whoever is in charge of driving this hell on wheels is going to kill us," Ryder went on, feeling grumpy by tenfold. He didn't even bother to get changed or brush his hair out; there was before the show for that. If he had to be awake, he'd rather just go eat something in the kitchen, and give Mason a piece of his mind for the early bird call.

He held onto the walls of the bus as he tumbled out into the lounge, where most were talking and starting to make breakfast. Jayden and Savannah weren't up yet, but Mason was. Pouring his cereal and milk with care, Ryder felt the urge to knock the box out of his hands. But no, that wouldn't be nice... They didn't need to fight on their second day on the tour. They didn't need to become Fleetwood Mac or The Beatles, constantly going for each other’s throats. Ryder stopped by Mason, his arms crossed and a little pout on his tired face. "Dude, that the hell was that for? 5 o'clock in the morning? Seriously?" He sat down in the chair next to his best friend and sighed into his hands. He'd definitely need a little nap. Well, once the stupid piece of trash stopped rolling he guessed. It wasn't long until the rest of their band mates filed into the lounge. Savannah came to the other side of Mason, leaning her head into his shoulder. Had it been anyone else, Ryder would have teased Mason for having a little girlfriend. However, it was just Vannah, and Ryder knew she did this with mostly everyone. She was just friendly, that's all, and more like a sister to him. "Morning Vannah," he greeted groggily, just about awake as she was. As soon as Mason had finished with the Cinnamon Toast Crunch, Ryder stole some of it and the milk for himself. There had been a bowl and spoon conveniently nearby, and while Cinnamon Toast Crunch wasn't his favorite, he was much too lazy to actually get something else.

Jayden was the last to appear, looking just about as rough as the rest of them. Ryder had nearly fallen asleep face-first into his milk bowl, until Jayden gently shook him. He gave the stoic guy a grateful smile, one that Jayden returned. He wasn't all that emotional, but Jayden could really pull through and be a nice guy when he wanted to. Now, the whole gang was together, looking as if they'd gotten hit by a bus, only a better one than they were riding in. "So, did you guys sleep well? I sure as hell didn't, because of Mister Yacker over here." He made a little face at Mason, still a bit annoyed, but mainly amused. There were worse ways to be woken up that was for sure. Now that he was up, though, Ryder felt the need to be productive. He wanted to take his beautiful violin out of the velvet case and run his fingers along the sooth wooden neck, while his other hand held up the delicate bow. However, blasting out violin at such an early time wouldn't be pleasant either. Not to mention, he was still embarrassed about the whole thing, but he couldn't help take it along for the ride.

"So, we got an agenda? Or can we just sleep until the show? I could sleep for a lifetime," he muttered, his hand still rubbing the soar spots on his head. "And I'm totally taking the topmost bunk tonight. I can't begin to count how many times I smashed my head on that stupid wood." Maybe this was the reason for his headache... "Anyone got Advil or something? My head is pounding away a storm." Despite the exhaustion (of only one day!) Ryder couldn't be happier. The grumpy bear would wake up eventually.


Sorry it sucks! Wasn't sure what to do...
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Post  Fool on the Hill Wed Apr 29, 2015 6:46 am

Mason finished his meager breakfast and, upon having his hands freed up, he began to run his fingers through Savannah's hair. Her eyes drifted shut and she shifted until she was leaning against Mason. He let out a quiet hum in response, and allowed his eyes to flick over to his best friend. Ryder was pissed and Mason wasn't quite focused enough to really figure out why, until he snapped about how early it was.

"Dude, it's not my fault. Jack's the one that came in and woke me up. He didn't tell me ahead of time that I had a phone interview. I did try to be quiet, y'know. Not my fault you didn't buy some earplugs or put your earbuds in." Mason scowled in response. He didn't enjoy being yelled at, and especially not when it was something that wasn't his fault. He focused on Savannah's breathing beside him, and how it deepened as she dropped back off to sleep. It was still extremely early and Mason was tempted to go back to sleep.

"C'mon, man, just sit down, grab some earbuds, and try to sleep a little more. Or eat a damn Snickers bar. You're not you when you're hungry." Mason tried to crack a joke, but didn't put too much effort into it. He was still a touch wigged out from Ryder's scolding, but covered it up the best that he could.

"No, there's no agenda so far as I can see. We're on the road for the next couple of hours. So, we're stuck on this bus for a while. You can sleep as much as you need." He was staring at a small whiteboard that'd been mounted on the side of one of the cabinets with a tentative schedule for the day written up. The manager, Jack, had put up the new schedule the day before. His writing was surprisingly neat, especially considering that the bus had been moving at the time that it'd been written.

Jack had already gone back to his bunk, only staying long enough to make sure Mason was started on his interview before he'd disappeared. "Hey, dude, d'ja bring any Tylenol or anything? Or, okay, well, you just asked if I had anything. So, no. We're both fucked." True to form, Mason had gotten a headache, the pain blossoming behind his eyes and around the sides of his head. He experienced headaches on the occasion and, according to his father, suffered migraines like his real mother. He didn't really know her though, as he hadn't seen her in years.

Savannah drowsily reached a hand up, making to pat Mason on the head, and instead missed, tapping his shoulder before her hand dropped back down. "You're precious, Banana." He kissed her head immediately after and then sighed quietly. Savannah had been Mason's friend for several years, though not as long as Ryder had. Even still, Mason had grown extremely close to the bass player. She was a constant fascination. There was nothing romantic in their interactions, though. Mason had dashed that the first time Ryder brought it up to him.

"Go ask Jack. Wake him up. Get revenge on him. Ask for something. I don't know." The suggestion was half-hearted. "Dude, I want Poptarts. I swear, I saw some Poptarts in the cabinet. Go grab me some Poptarts. And I'm pretty sure I actually have Tylenol in my bag. Bring me some, too." Mason wasn't going to get up and get anything himself. He was far too lazy, but his excuse was that he had Savannah curled up against him. He could tough out a headache and he'd already eaten cereal but he was a teenager. He could always eat more.



[Sorry that my post was so late and crappy.]
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Post  Atlas Tue May 26, 2015 6:42 am

Maybe he went a little too hard on Mason... It was early in the morning, after all. They were all cranky after the long show the previous night -- Mason most likely wasn't pleased about the early cellphone call. Mason snapped back appropriately, explaining the situation throughly. A pain of guilt sunk in Ryder's heart, as the situation hadn't really been Mason's fault. At least Ryder was able to (sort of) fall back asleep after being awakened form his slumber. But no, Mason on the other hand had to introduce some song on the radio. Damn, did Ryder feel like a piece of shit... It was weird though, having Mason snap back at him so quickly -- they rarely fought, the last fight stretching back to almost a year ago. Ryder was acting unlike himself, as he was usually that kept the fights from breaking. Now, he was causing him. Running his fingers through his messy hair, he apologized. "Yeah, I know. Sorry man, I didn't mean to snap like that. You can't control when Jack wants to bother you, I get that. Investing in some earplugs will definitely be my next move." Tentatively sitting next to Mason, he hoped their little spat was over. Teasing and messing with each other was fun, but fighting never would be.

Ryder observed as Mason played with Savannah's hair, his head barley held atop by his hand. Mason and Savannah were quite close, and interactions between them like the one being displayed were common. For the first couple years, Ryder was convinced that the two had a secret relationship. Years had passed, and although Ryder was finally able to believe Mason's claims, he still felt as if there was more chemistry between the pair. "I don't know. Sleeping on a moving bus is harder than I thought,"he mused, following Mason's instructions and sitting down on a spinning chair. He spun several times around in the chair, until nausea began to set it. Maybe spinning at 8 o'clock am on a moving bus on an empty stomach wasn't the best idea... Mason made an attempt to crack a half-hearted joke, and despite the lack of effort, Ryder let out a small smile. "You're right, I'm feeling like some bear that just woke up out of hibernation." As if to emphasize this, he let out another yawn. Mornings were the band of his existence, as he was infamous for sleeping past even two o'clock in the afternoon.

"No agenda? Good, I can't see myself doing much today," he responded back, his eyes sleepily following Mason's to the whiteboard schedule. Some notes were written on it, but they were primarily intended for the crew. So, it seemed as if the band got a few hours off... "We should probably be productive though," he muttered, rubbing his eyes in an effort to keep them open. "We have to be on top of our game. It has to be like last night, but even better." Ryder was usually very relaxed, but now he felt the urge to please the fans. After all, who wouldn't want to relive the amazing experience of the previous night? Ryder was sure the rest of the band felt the same way.

Jeyden came up to the group, finally making the incarnation complete. Apart, they were strong, but together, the group was unstoppable. Jeyden leaned against the countertop, sticking his tongue out as he observed Mason and Savannah so close. Jeyden supported Ryder in his belief that the two were secretly dating. However, Ryder gave Jeyden a little punch on the arm and a steely glance -- he didn't want anyone else to mess with each other so early in the morning, where the tensions were high. As the troublemaker of the group, Jeydan understood this familiar warning and backed down. To both of their dismays, Jack had gone off. As the band manager, he had responsibility over the not-yet adults, so he had some of their medicines. Of course, they all broke the rules, with Ryder drinking frequently and Jeyden always finding himself some weed. Still, Jack liked to possess at least some semblance of control over the group of crazy, now famous teens. Prelude was the band of circus freaks, and Jack was their ringmaster.

"Well, that sucks. We're fucked," Ryder agreed, nursing his pounding head. Mason had it far worse, though. He was prone to awful migraines, and Ryder only hoped it would go away soon. Maybe food could help? Mason seemed to have the same thing on his mind, and ordered Ryder to grab some pop-tarts. "Aye aye captain," he joked, giving off a mock salute. Groaning slightly, the lanky boy rose to his feet and shuffled his way across the moving kitchen. Being an awkwardly tall, giraffe-like boy didn't help, and after several close calls of bumping into both people and objects, he made his way back to Mason, pop-tarts in hand. Upon returning, Ryder got to witness a kiss planted on Savannah's head. "Shit guys, get a room," Ryder lightly teased before sliding the pop-tart box over to Mason.

Jeydan swooped his way in a took the first pack, stating, "You snooze, you loose. More like, you make out, you miss out, in your case." The heavily pierced bad boy made a face at Mason, then alternatively messed with his hair.

Jeyden took his place next to Ryder, who was now waiting for Mason and Vannah to take the next pop-tarts. If Ryder could do anything, it was share. Well, mostly. He could share almost everything but attention.

"If you get the brown sugar kind, give them to me," Ryder addressed, his stomach rumbling at the thought. Most seemed to like the chocolate or strawberry kind, but Ryder was very different. It was brown sugar or nothing for him. "So guys, do you want to actually practice for a bit? Or do you just want to chill out? I'm good for either, but I'll probably go mess with my drumpad. Just a fair warning, in case you plan on sleeping." Ryder turned to Mason, waiting for their leader's input. Hopefully their little spat was in the past now -- it was time to work.
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Post  Fool on the Hill Tue Jun 02, 2015 7:37 am

Perhaps Ryder had realized that yelling at Mason wasn't the best course. He knew enough of Mason's past experiences to know that he'd been emotionally abused by his own father, yelled at for not being good enough, and for other various reasons. Mason had been handled roughly, grabbed up by his shirt and pinned to a wall as his father yelled in his face, had a hand raised at him. Mason, naturally, flinched back from confrontations and often completely withdrew from everything when his anxiety reared up following raised voices. Ryder knew that, and so he apologized to Mason. In return, Mason offered a weak half-smile, nothing more than a tug at the corner of his mouth. He wasn't mad at Ryder, but he'd get him back somehow to let him know he wasn't totally off the hook. More than likely, it'd just be some obnoxious prank, or him sharing an embarrassing story at the concert later in the day.

"So, if you have such trouble falling asleep, why don't you take melatonin or valerian root?" The natural supplements were supposed to help people sleep, being a safer and less addictive alternative to sleeping aids. He could understand what Ryder meant when he mentioned how difficult it was to sleep on a moving bus. He found it difficult to sleep in strange places unless he was dead-tired, in which case, he wound up sleeping in the most ridiculous places. "Bro, you're going to fall asleep somewhere stupid and I'm going to tweet ridiculous pictures after Jayden gets his hands on you." He grinned over in the direction of the bunks, where the guitarist had yet to appear from, certain that Jayden wouldn't mind helping out with a few pranks. One plan Mason had was to wait until Ryder was crashed out hard, before moving him to a completely different place. His confusion would likely be hysterical.

Mason groaned when Ryder suddenly perked up, announcing that they ought to be productive. "It's early as fuck. I don't think we have to do anything right this minute. We have hours. Just try to take a nap. Here, do you wanna cuddle up on my other side and I'll play with your hair like 'Vannah's?" He let out a barking laugh, one that caused their pyrotechnician, Hale, to poke his head out of his bunk, casting an irritable glare in their direction before retreating back behind his curtain. Mason shot a guilty look his way before the shit-eating grin drew back on his face, eyes flicking back toward Ryder.

Upon the actual arrival of Jayden, Mason observed his expression. He knew that Ryder and Jayden still sometimes thought that he and Savannah had a thing. Trying to again bring humor in, he gestured toward the guitarist. "Ooooh, c'mere, cutie. You can sit on our laps. Come to Mama." Savannah rolled her eyes and elbowed Mason in the side, drawing a sharp squeak of alarm, before he drew away, arms guarding his sides. It was a pretty well-known fact among the band that Mason was ticklish, but only on his sides. Anywhere else and he would just clamp down, glowering at their attempts. Sometimes, the most god-awful sounds slipped past his lips as he reacted to the sensation, and he'd been known to kick out in retaliation, once giving Jayden a bloody lip.

"So, hey, depending on how I feel after tonight's concert, I might hang back with the fans for a little bit." Mason said quietly, glancing around to see if any of the other three members would jump in to agree. Savannah, however, decided now was the time to mess with Mason. "Mason, they'll get tired of your ugly mug. A concert is long enough. No one is gonna stick around to listen to you jabber away for a second longer, sweetie." Savannah sounded completely serious, but anyone that looked at her face would see the mischievous sparkle in her eye. Of course she didn't mean that. She was known for being extremely sarcastic and perhaps a bit coarse at times, too.

"Damn. You cut me to the core. I'm wounded." Mason withdrew his hand, mussing up the bass guitarist's hair before he shoved himself to his feet. The bus lurched at that moment and he lost his balance, stumbling straight into Ryder before toppling to the floor with a wild shriek. "Damn this bus! I really need to get used to this." The technician stormed into the main room at this point, dark eyes bloodshot. "Keep it the fuck down in here. Some of us are trying to sleep so your show runs smoothly!"

[Sorry about the shitty reply. Also, Hale's an ass in the morning when he's tired. XD]
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