We Interrupt This Program [Closed RP]

"Please standby, we are experiencing some unexpected interruptions [static]."

Warning: This roleplay may include swearing, confusing references, time, grief and loss, light gore, and discussion/mention of suicide.

This is a reboot (of sorts) of the 2018 Stay Tuned roleplay, which can be found here. Unless you are one of the users listed below, we ask that you please refrain from commenting, however we welcome you to sit back, turn your radio on, and enjoy the show. Feel free to privately contact one of the hosts if you wish to leave feedback.

Hosts: User #80380 // User #79219 // User #98451 // User #64927

The Band: Mason Wilkins, [redacted], bass /// Auberon Simmons, 18, drums /// Outlaw, [redacted], electric guitar /// Chance Robinson, 17, guitar /// Bailey Johan, 17, backup /// Rylee, 16, tech 

We are now entering early 2019.

"...Coming up next, the latest hit by rising artist Misfit Toys."

Mason
 Mason was bouncing on his feet a little as he ran his fingers through his hair yet again, leaning over the sink to get a closer look at his reflection, a lopsided smile beaming back at him. Finally, he stepped back and straightened himself up, grasping the edge of the marble countertop as he met his own gleeful eyes in the mirror. He could feel that buzz he always felt when he was excited begin to trickle from his brain into all the rest of his body, and he bounced some more without realizing. Would you believe he hadn't had a drop of alcohol? He hadn't, and he was dimly aware that he'd rarely if ever played a show or gig before without a drink beforehand, but he didn't really seem to need it and he cared even less. His smile twitched at the corners. This is it.
 Before they'd left, he'd mailed a ticket to Em up in New York - or at least, he'd mailed it to what her address had been the last time they'd spoken, which for all he knew was not hers anymore. In hindsight he seriously doubted it would have arrived in time for her to come down to see the show, but he vaguely remembered promising her he'd keep her posted on his band activities once they reached some level of fame, so he figured it was only right to have at least tried.
 On their very last night in town, he'd taken another ticket to the cemetery for Joey on his own and left it buried beneath a thin layer of dirt with a cigarette and an unopened beer can placed gently on top. It hadn't been as hard as he'd expected it would. Driving there was the hardest part.
 But in the hotel bathroom none of that was on his mind. His smile tightened into a determined, enthused smirk, and, still bouncing, he threw a few punches at the air in front of him like a boxer warming up for a fight. Then, with some effort and a final futile smoothing of the hair, he composed himself enough to stop moving in place so much and open the bathroom door.
 Slowly, he stepped out, taking a deep breath as he scanned the room. His mind was humming like a metal fence in a lightning storm. He felt good. This is it.

Last edited on 2021-06-14 at 17:53:01 by Raptor

Chance
He was nervous. Pre-show restlessness was a norm for Chance anytime he performed, but this time it seemed heightened. His hands fluttered to his shirt, slipping over it to make sure it was free from wrinkles, to make sure the fabric lay smooth and flat. He couldn't waste too much brain power stressing over his appearance or he'd slip up on stage, and he was using some of that brain power to prevent himself from opening his guitar case (again) to make sure the instrument was tuned. Three times was enough. It was tuned. It wasn't going to untune itself unless he was massively unlucky. Which, frankly, he couldn't outrule, so of course he would be checking for a fourth time right before going on stage. 
Chance leaned back on his hands simply to give them a job other than fidgeting. It struck him how he hadn't thought about the little notebook nestled in the pocket of his guitar case yet that day. And then, of course, he realized that he had just thought about it. Regardless, the fact he wasn't hesitating everytime his eyes scanned past the pocket was progress. He didn't feel the need to write in it as often. But, for the sake of luck, he sent out a thought like a prayer in the hopes it would reach the intended audience. 
Maybe he was excited. He couldn't tell quite yet. What he did know was that this show, this time, would tell him for sure. He couldn't explain it but the feeling stirring about in his stomach indicated that it would. 

Last edited on 2021-06-14 at 21:10:25 by oswin

Outlaw
She sat quietly on a chair in the corner, electric guitar safely in its case beside her, and watched her bandmates go through their range of emptions. She was not excited like Mason, nor nervous like Chance, she was simply.. numb. Feelings had forsaken her long ago, but she plastered on a half way excited expression for her bandmates sake, and cracked open another can of soda. 

Auberon

The couch was becoming increasingly uncomfortable to lay on, or perhaps it was the position he was sitting in. Regardless of reason, Auberons's sleep became disturbed due to the discomfort and his eyes eventually fluttered open to see the ceiling above him. It took a moment to realize he was awake; his body still felt numb and his mind couldn't decide if this was a dream or the reality he had been escaping from. It's probably both, he thought as he sat up cautiously. He had all but forgotten where he was by that time. Why was he there again? His mind flashed back to the day he got dragged into the band, and he sighed quietly at the overwhelming emotions and thoughts that had also occurred that day. 

Mason
 He nodded briskly to Outlaw as he passed her chair before his eyes settled on the figure on the couch; he cracked a mischievous smile and jogged over (despite the cluttered narrowness of the path there), unceremoniously jostling the drummer out of any sleep he may still have been in with a rough mussing of his hair like some relative you haven't seen in a year might do on Thanksgiving. "Wake up, sleepyhead! We've got, like, half an hour tops to get out there. Well actually I'm not completely sure I'm bad with ti- Wake up!" He couldn't help rambling a little in his present state.
 It was then that he remembered there was another person in the room too, so he turned to face Chance, forcing his feet to remain fixed on the ground as he looked up at the dark-haired guitarist. "How long is it till we're on?"

Chance
Outlaw opening her soda reminded him to drink some water to soothe the dryness in his mouth. Chance snagged the bottle sitting next to him that he'd almost forgotten about and sipped at it as he watched Mason waking Auberon with some relief. He didn't know how his bandmate was still asleep this close to the show but he'd been unsure about whether or not to wake him up. At Mason's question, he glanced at the little hotel clock on the bedstand. "Thirt-- forty five minutes." 

Auberon

The boy swatted at Mason's hand, curling back up on the couch to avoid being touched again. "I swear to God, Mason. Don't touch me or I'll throw your fragile, old body off a bridge." The tone of his voice was level and not at all threatening, but not exactly joking either. It seemed to lack any sense of emotion, but that was to be expected of anyone who had just woken up. "What are we doing again? Or more importantly, why are we doing it? I still don't recall ever actually signing up for this. I want a refund." 

Mason
 Mason lightly swatted Aub on the side of the head in response, but was still addressing Chance when he spoke. "Alright, cool. Cool." A pause, in which he stuffed his right hand in his pocket and curled his fingers around his old pocket watch out of habit. "You feelin' ready?"

Chance
He shrugged, considering it for a moment. "No?" Chance wasn't entirely sure if the response was acceptable, and not entirely sure of the answer at all. "What about you guys?" he tacked on, the words a little rushed, leaving it open for anyone in the group to answer. 

Auberon

Aub sat up with a half-wailed groan, glancing up at Mason before he chucked a pillow at him. "I said not to touch me, sir," he said, much more lightheartedly this time. He seemed to have not heard Chance, but replied with a lazy, "I just want to go back to sleep" without looking at the boy.

Mason
 He just barely had enough time to take his hand out of his pocket in time to block the pillow; instead of successfully sending it back toward Aub, though, all he succeeded at doing was making it slide anticlimactically down his side rather than hit either of them in the face.
 "Oh, please, Chance, we all know I was born ready," Mason answered overdramatically as he turned away from Auberon and started making his way toward where he'd left his bass; even he wasn't entirely sure if what he'd said was meant to be ironic or not. He picked up the instrument and settled its strap over his shoulders, tugging the red denim jacket he'd bought at a discount store the week prior down a little so the strap wasn't caught under a button. "Anyway, how do I look?"

Outlaw
"Ready to roll." She said calmly as answer to Chance's question. She took another swig of her soda before digging in the pocket of her black trench coat for a cigarette. "You look fine" she added to Mason around the cigarette in her mouth. "Where the hell did that lighter go.." she mumbled to herself, digging through the many pockets on her coat again. 

Chance
He decided against questioning Auberon's apparent apathy for what to him seemed like a very momentous occasion. As Mason stood, Chance's eyes tracked him, and he pushed away the small twinge of envy that popped up upon seeing the other boy? man? with the instrument slung across him and poor hotel lighting casting objectively complimentary shadows. If he could look anything close to that while on stage he would be happy (though perhaps not exactly like it). All he actually said was a somewhat awkward, "Good" . In the corner of his eye he saw Outlaw rummaging around and, opening the small bed stand drawer, pulled out a lighter - whose, he wasn't really sure - and passed it over. "This is, uh, a no smoking room." 

Outlaw
She accepted the lighter, and shook her head at Chance's words. "Who the hell booked a non-smoking room?" She grumbled as she rose from her chair and headed for the door of the ground floor hotel room. She exited the room. and after closing the door, lit the cigarette. She leaned back against the brick building, one boot propped on the wall, smoke swirling around her scarred face. She pulled out a small copy of a Louis L'Amour western novel from her trench coat's inner pocket, and lost herself in the world she had been born in while smoking.