my Neil banging out the tunes fanart :)

You've met Neil! He's a long-time passionate musician as has been well documented:

This second version of the post has bonus content and blog lore under the cut!

@chaos-has-theories: You know, it's Neil Banging Out the Tunes Day today. Me: Oh, right. Damn, too bad I'm too sick to draw him. Me: ... Me: ... Me: ... Me: Oh, who am I kidding, I could be dying and I'd still draw Neil banging out the tunes.

And so now here we are, interrupting the alphabet rats for this national holiday. Fun fact: Neil is the first rat I drew entirely digitally! No real life pen sketch involved! Which is why I don't have an original scan to share, only a copy with all the color layers turned off.

And one without the carpet because why not

And last but not least, because I felt weird not having a 'just Neil' version on my blog for some reason, a lineart version of that too:

One last fun fact: I believe Neil might be the only hairless rat I've drawn so far, which is really weird since I quite like hairless animals. Oh well, I guess Neil is just extra special that way <3

HAPPY ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY TO RETICENT‼️‼️

All the sillies whqidhqkdhkd I love them all sm!!!

I think I said everything I could really say in the end notes for Chapter 10 (which is out right now, go read it if you haven’t yet), but once again: Thank you all for supporting Reticent over the past year, whether you’ve only just found out about it or have been here since the beginning. I appreciate every single bit of support I’ve gotten from the bottom of my heart. Especially all the comments on the fic and the fanart I’ve received, I look at it all from time to time whenever I’m down. I’ve never been this motivated for a project before and honestly I owe it all to you guys. Thank you again.

I was just going to post this piece for it since I wasn’t exactly sure what else to do but I thought they all deserved fancy outfits so!!!

I wanted all the anniversary art to be Season 1 compliant but maybe I can draw smth cute with Leo and Donnie soon! (Maybe even write a pre-Reticent fluff piece if I’m feeling nice)

I hope you all have a lovely rest of your Neil banging out the tunes day and here’s to another year of Reticent‼️‼️‼️💖💖💖🫶🫶🫶🌸🌸🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂‼️‼️‼️

P.S that last Ret Leo drawing is the best I’ve drawn him in months idk how I managed to draw his face for once it’s a genuine mystery bdsjgdjwgdj the only thing I can think of is that the art gods have allowed me to draw him well today as a little treat since they haven’t let me draw him well since the day I made him GCJSBXKBSNC

Campe fucking Diem - introduction

This is my Camp Camp fanfiction with my OC’s, please don’t hate. This is the introduction, I was thinking of posting my story on here but I wanted to see if anyone would be interested so please let me know if you are.

A dark skinned boy in a blue hoodie and green eyes crouched behind a bush, next to him was a scrawny looking boy with an Afro of brown hair and a yellow turtleneck who bore resemblance to a nerdy beanpole. Crouching on all fours like a feral animal waiting to strike was a girl with teal hair in two ponytails, she wore red overalls over a yellow shirt. “Okay guys, when the bus gets here with whatever new fucked up campers sent to die in this hellhole, we run and jump in while David is distracted probably doing some heartfelt fucking speech about this camp.” The dark skinned boy - Max - informed them like he was exposing the secret plan to a mission (which in a sense, he was). “Got it.” The nerdy kid - Neil - and the teal haired girl - Nikki - echoed together, expressions of determination on their faces. Nikki punched her fist into her hand, practically vibrating with excitement, she held out a fist, then two fingers up, the action of some people walking, she continued making weird gestures, trying to convey a plan and- oh look now she’s doing scissors paper rock…. Okay, she lost, against herself. “Nikki!” Max hissed in frustration. “We- we don’t need. Ugh, whatever - bus is here, quick lets get out of this shitty camp.” He noted the bus’ arrival. David’s face was shining in excitement, his eyes stretched out with - was that stars twinkling in them? The bus pulled to a slow stop, the doors slowly opening like some sort of dramatic introduction ( ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) but before the rip off of every action movie ever could continue Nikki jumped out of the bushes, charging at the bus with a wild war cry. In the bushes Max face palmed before yelling, “for FUCKS SAKE! That wasn’t the plan Nikki!” And ran out behind her, Neil following with a less than confident war cry. “Max!” David scolded, halting their progress by grabbing the backs of their shirts and lifting them with ease, Max slumping in his hoodie and muttering his former yell ruefully, “for fucks sake.” “Language.” David scolded, Max bristling, ready to explode in his face when the doors of the bus opened with a jolt, the Quartermaster was hunched over the buttons, pushing them impatiently, “stupid door.” He grumbled. He looked up as he heard the door opening to see David holding up Max and Neil and yelping as Nikki bit his foot savagely like a dog, hanging off it as he lifted it of the ground in pain. “I hear pain.” A low voice announced with a tone that sounded like the owner was the incarnation of those dark, evil, villain laughs in movies. A girl then stepped into view, trudging down the steps of the bus to the ground with cool disinterest, she wore a grey beanie, a black shirt and pants and an unzipped dark hoodie, contrasting her pale olive skin tone, her blond hair was cut short at the back, the ends just barely peaking out from her beanie, like a boys hair cut and the front side bangs swept over her right eye, one lock of dyed red hair. She stepped to the side and another figure appeared at the top of the steps, this one seemed to be a walking guitar, taking up most of the small space, the guitar lowering itself down the steps, attempting to leave through the door only the find it was blocked by the narrow space. The guitar backed up a step and tried again, hitting the door frame with a quiet, dull thud. The goth girl stepped back in front of the door to push the guitar back and turn it to the side so it could go through, when the guitar finally plopped onto the ground clumsily it stood to the left, they could now see the top of a light brown head of hair and small pale hands holding either side of the guitar. The guitar was set against the side of the bus and they could finally see the owner, a pale girl with cute baby fat and her light brown hair in a braid, some locks on the right side of her face were free showing her hair was wavy. She wore rectangular glasses and a white shirt with a unicorn on and long grey pants, her and the goth girl stood expectantly - well, she did, goth girl was busy carving a pentagram on the side of the bus. “Hello, happy campers!” David cheerfully greeted, dropping Neil and Max as the bus sped off, leaving Max staring after it angrily. “This. Is music camp?” The girl with glasses questioned disbelievingly, surveying the camp. “Well. At Camp Campbell, we have a number of camps. If you like I could sing you a song~” David slowly raised his guitar prompting a quick “oh please fuck no.” From Max. “We’re good.” Goth girl spoke up quickly, David pouted sadly before turning back to the girl with glasses. “You must be Marina.” Marina grinned a cheesy smirk and finger gunned the overly eager attitude, “‘sup.” He turned to the goth girl, “and you’re-” “Avis.” She cut him off, “got any rope? ‘Cause I’m about fucking ready to kill myself.” Max raised an eyebrow and smirked while David’s smile wavered, he kept it up determinedly, “now now happy camper, why not give Camp Campbell a chance? You could meet some new friends. In fact, how about these lovely campers show you around!” He gestured to the three standing beside him. Both Neil and Max looked repulsed by his happy attitude. “This is Max.” “Fuck off.” “This is Neil.” “Help me.” “And this is Nikki!” “Hi, wanna go poke frogs with me?” Max and Neil had their eyes narrowed while Nikki was practically vibrating with excitement, bouncing on the heels of her feet, bobbing up and down. Marina and Avis shared an apprehensive look before Marina picked up her guitar and Avis picked up the knife she used to carve a pentagram which had fallen from her grip when the bus sped off. Marina was humming a tune as Nikki led them to a clearing full of what looked like stalls with labels, there was a rickety cardboard tower, a skateboard ramp, a wooden lab, a place full of easels and paintings and more. “Oh, I get it. This is a rip off.” Avis said, eyeing the multiple 'camps’, David hastily shushed her, “ah-ah, Camp Campbell is not a rip off-” “yeah, and I’m not gay.” Marina interrupted, “huh?” David turned to her, “huh?” She echoed back innocently. David smiled obliviously and introduced them to the campers with had begun to gather curiously. “This is Erid.” “'Sup dudes.” She drawled from the top of the skate ramp. “Dolph.” “Hallo! I am currently drawing the Reich.” “What?” Marina and Avis asked, concerned, Dolph turned the painting towards them and they could see it was a bowl of rice, painted off of some rice placed on a stool in front of him. “Nice.” Marina offered weakly and Dolph seemed happy at the praise, Avis looked put off, “is it just me or is he-?” “Yeah, it’s fucked up.” Max informed her, “well then at least this camp reflects my life.” She humoured dryly and Max looked at her sideways, smirking. Marina was talking with Dolph, obviously slightly put off by his atmosphere making him seem… Natz-so normal. “This is Harrison.” “Would you like to see a magic trick?” “Yeah, you can make me disappear.” Avis commented under her breath, David remained oblivious to her sardonic tone and took it optimistically, “that’s great! You’re already participating!” He applauded her and she leaned to Max warily. “Is he always so…” “Optimistic?” Max guessed irritably at the same time she said, “fucking annoying.” Max looked at her in surprise then grinned. “Every fucking day of my life.”

Tagging some people in case anyone would be interested in me posting more chapters? @gogetsomesnacks @miss-lee-lee-fan @cajs0037 @aphcanadaiscool @bluestripedshirt

Six Strings & Skinny Jeans - EP Review from Jacob Wood

Jacob Wood presents Six Strings & Skinny Jeans”

                                     EP Review

William Rodger (Rodger That Studios)

Jacob Wood, formerly of ACM Guildford before COVID 19 rugby tackled 2020, is a man of many talents.

Not only is Jacob the front man (with the hair and axe to match) of rip roaring Guildford locals Dirty Shirley, he’s also been working on 5 instrumental offerings (that’s putting it lightly) expected on all major streaming services on 01.06.20

Before we get into this good and proper I’ll just say this.

Jacob Wood did not pull any punches. If anything, he added them. Thousands of them.

It’s live. Sit down, strap in and prick up your ears.

The Eagle Has Landed

This track begins with those immortal words from Neil Armstrong. Along with a rapidly building tsunami of noise and anticipation, before the audio cuts out and the Gibson’s, drums and drive pedals practically punch the listener in the face.

You see this is the ideal introduction for Jacob to make. This song is, much like its creator, loud and proud. The drums are exemplary here, but then they are throughout thanks to the practically limitless talent and versatility of  one Mr. Euan Crawford-mckee, not to mention the behind the desk mastery of Mr. Matt Turner, whose noble work throughout makes sure this rollercoaster is a comfortable ride. That said, this is Jacob’s work and drive through and through, and its a hell of an introduction.

Get it yet, people? This was only track one and even my lyric filled brain knew that these tunes were going to be love letters to good old fashioned music, with all the guns, roses, solos and white snakes you could dream of.

Guitar (and drum and drive) porn, if you will.

Pub Fight, in my humble opinion, is the MVP of this admittedly kick ass collection. The track begins as abruptly as an actual bar brawl, with some choice words from a mysterious voice (some choice, and explicit words). Then you’re in the thick of it, guitars screaming, drums pounding, eardrums probably bleeding. The first time I listened to this thing I plugged my MacBook into a Vox Valve and the volume damn near knocked me to the ground.

But thats what makes it so wicked.

This kind of manic eardrum assault is exactly what people want from a heavy rock song, isn’t it? People don’t listen to this kind of music when they feel like following the rules. This is music for heavy drinking, mosh pitting and yes, even pub fighting. And to be honest if you were having a genuine punch up with Pub Fight in your ears you’d probably get punched to the floor, jump back up, dust yourself off, say thank you and dive straight back in.

Hahaha

Pubs? Remember them?

We continue with Cairo’s Crypt. A cryptic (ha) and slow burn of a tune that features some god tier guitar harmonics. I was fondly reminded on first listenings of ‘One Way Ticket’ by The Darkness, a song about a cocaine fuelled bender, which made a lot of sense actually, because Cairo’s Crypt is like exploring the Egyptian exhibits at your local museum while you’re off your nut on various illegal substances.

What an effort from Jacob, who channels his own inner darkness here and smashes it out of the ball park. Its mysterious, and it slows the listener down from the pandemonium of track one, like a low section on a rollercoaster, or the calm before the storm.

Fuck. Yeah.

New Kid On The Block made me feel like a god damn cowboy. The track moves into your head and your ears like a sheriff into a saloon. Its guitar is typically stellar, and when compared to the more breakneck paced tunes on this tapestry it provides a frankly brilliant glimpse at Jacob and company’s musicianship.

I felt the energy here, beyond the musical moustache twirling. This song was mature beyond its origins.

It’s Red Dead, but Jacob Wood doesn’t need no Redemption.

We draw the curtain on this worlds loudest debut performance with Chainsaws For Arms.

BEST. TITLE. EVER.

And the song ain’t half bad either, with some of the EP’s finest solo guitar work on show here, another ludicrous performance on the kit, and a mix and master so smooth you could spread it on toast.

Of course bear in mind that when your EP is made up of 5 perfectly executed sonic powerhouses, it’s kinda hard to compare them to each other now isn’t it.

I can only imagine the energy and spirit that was magically captured when this song was recorded. Everything here is turned up to 11(million), and Six Strings & Skinny Jeans goes out with a bang bigger than an oil tanker in a whiskey factory. If tracks 1-4 were natural disasters, then CFA is the Tsunami that fucked Japan up in 2011.

Its an incredible feat that Jacob Wood has created a brutally honest portrayal of his solo style. indeed,  It should be greatly applauded and admired by everyone who checks this out that a man as talented as Jacob is able to surprise us with each roll of the dice.

Take a bow, sir. Jack and Coke is on me when the world isn’t broken.

SS&SJ drops on all main streaming platforms this Monday (June 1, 2020). Keep up with Jacob here (Facebook) or here (Instagram) to find out how to listen.

WR

Spelling Dad from ADD.

  “How do you feel about children?” he asked me on that magical Christmas Eve in 2008. We are at too large of a table for two people on a patio of ribbons, decked halls and twinkle lights. Ooooh, pretty lights sparkle so. We waited for our coffee drinks under trimmed trees, gay apparel donned. The crowd at Aroma Café was heavy with packages, burdens from the shopping that is a draw to the Tujunga Village part of Studio City. I love the idea of a hamlet in the land of hams. I need more irony in my diet. People banged about like cattle down a chute. Calling Temple Grandin.

 My ADD is self-diagnosed and provides me ample amusement; sometimes others get to share in the joy that is my rambling. The stream of consciousness that I surf regularly makes me a fine Improv actor but an ineffective bureaucrat. Years later someone would shout “Squirrel” and I completely understood a cartoon dog’s pov.

 Christ, he just asked me something. Focus, Hubble, focus. If my self-narration annoys feel free to substitute Neil Patrick Harris voice or Sara Jessica Parker’s. My patter might be more palatable. How do I feel about children?

 Michael’s bright blue eyes, red cheeks and pale pallor defined the ‘Richie Cunningham’ description our mutual friend Rob had promised. Ha. Red, white and blue. He’s pretty cute, shivering in his p-coat. The lyrics to “American Boy” popped up. Stifle, silly ADD, stifle. Listen to the cute boy who is saying all the right things. I had arrived early to the date. I had armed myself viewing all the pictures he had posted on his MySpace. He had a butt-load of friends and loved the beach. I knew we had at least that, Tom & Rob as common denominators. He was tall, handsome and quirky. Our previous phone conversation confirmed quirky.

 “Hello, Villa Cosa Nostra, Michael speaking, how may I help you?”

“Is this Michael Vinton?”

“Tis I” Tis I. Tis I? I’m calling a boutique timeshare and got transferred to a Renaissance Faire Restaurant?

“This is Tony Spatafora, Rob Hahn’s friend.” Beat. Beat.

“Oh. Hi..”

“I know you’re at work, is this an okay time to talk?”

“Let me put you on hold for a second? Thanks.” Boom. Gone.

 He is so Googling me now. I think. Or he’s shuttering his work-hag so he can come back to the call a little more centered. I can’t wait to hear what comes back on the line.

 “Heeeeyy, “ a much cooler cat returns. “How ya doing?”

“Fine. “ Eyeroll. Stop Spats, don’t be such an egotistical putz. “Rob Hahn said to give you a call and that we should probably get together.”

“Yeah. He said.” Ice, ice baby. Who sang that, I wondered “So, what’s up….”?

Saints preserve me.

“Listen, I know you’re at work. Why don’t you give me a call when it’s convenient and we can set something up?”

“Cool, man.” Oh, this kid is killing me. Did I mention that my angel is 14 years my junior? Yeah. Apply considerable mockery here, I deserve it.

“I’ll just get your cell, and get back to you.”

“Fine, ” I’m not finished playing with my food, “but let me ask you three things: Dog or cat?”

“Dog.” He’s confident.

“Boston or New York?”

“…New York.” He vacillated.

“And finally, like garlic or love garlic.”

“LOVE garlic.” He wins. I spit game like no other. Who sang that damn song??

“Okay. You may call me back.”

Laughter.

 I thrive on acid tests and omens. I believe The Universe will give you signs when you are falling behind in it’s choreography. You are encouraged to free style only so often. Don’t waste your moment to jump in the abyss. Your pants can only get wet one of two ways when you dance. Go big or go home, I think I’d read that on some ones Friendster. I am so full of myself I should hang Charmin off my belt.

 I had seen him heading to the café from a quaint store in the Village. In fact he had stopped in the window in front of my to check his hair. The afternoon was windy. Norman Rockwell snow falling lightly would have completed the picture. Oh, my. He is a cutie. Those eyes were so blue. I stalked him down the sidewalk praying there would be more preening to mock later to my besty Sue. He walked like a man, firm and grounded while sporting an angel’s face. These omens are good. I couldn’t wait to hear from ‘Tis I’ what made this guy tick.

 Michael turned around in front of Aroma to find me, hot on his heels. He laughed and I gave him the big loving hug I like to share with my nearest and dearest. I wanted to warm his heart on this holiday night before we both had to race back to work. I would learn later that he really welcomed that hug as it was to be his first Christmas away from his wonderful family in Charlotte, NC. He was a little sad and in need of some familiar love. The guy has the big heart of a softie I would learn. Tick tick tick, boom goes the heart.  

 I thought he was shivering. He kept squirming over his shoulder then craning his neck back to me. Does he have a tic? He kept exhaling over his shoulder. I was intrigued; did I step in something while hunting my prey down the mean streets of the San Fernando Valley? He finally calls out the chair dancing he’s doing as being gassy today & also he is from a very gassy family. I got a fuzzy image of the holidays with the family. He was trying to subtly burp. I got that. Cool.

 “How do I feel about children? You mean as a family or laborers in my families sweatshop in New Haven?” More Charmin, senator? Truth was I did want a family. More than anything else I have ever wanted. I wanted to focus all that I am into people who would hopefully, one day, go out and use their powers for good. I have the biological family, the chosen family, the work family, and the Partridge family. I had a lock on “Back-up singers” and caregivers that all had a special place in my heart. I was finally ready at 40 to have a family unit. Children, progeny attendants whatever you want to call them. I was ready to raise.

 I hoped that in raising children, I would raise myself. I had always been a selfish impulsive prick. I could leave disaster in my wake better and brighter then most boobs my age. I’d been there, done that and brought back the t-shirt in two sizes (for my fat + fit days) Glib is an understatement to describe me, Crazed is another. Children would allow me to put all the attention I had put into myself to a positive end. My epic life experiences and families would help lift the children up; it takes a village I have been told.

 I had always seen myself with a large family. That was how we grew up in CT and I wanted to create something similar. Economics and Biology being what it may, it was going to take extra work and love but above all it would take the right mate to accomplish this with. Michael told me he had seen a similar vision but did the typical blanch one does when finding out there might be five more just like me out there in the world. Silly man, he has no idea.

 All of my wonderful family had paired up and reproduced. There are thirteen amazing nephews and nieces with birthdays to remember and events to celebrate. Being as far away as I am in Los Angeles can fray the nerves. The day to day growth of the kids gets away from you when updates aren’t delivered regularly. It is much easier to share around a family dinner table or a get together in state. Time flies and raising kids seemed to occupy and awful lot of it. Notes for later, I would record. I wished for a village that can act locally and think globally I guess.  I have a Village People cd I haven’t played in a while.

 And sometimes it takes a Village Idiot. Burpie and me made nice and I dropped a few more witty pearls of banter. We clicked on many levels. We had both thought we would have been priests, except for that annoying celibacy thing. We loved music. Our families were the most important things in our lives. Our dreams were huge. We wanted to see the world but above all wanted children. Oh, and grandchildren too.

 Well this was going to be tough, being two men and no little lady. We appear to be Biologically Adjacent to speak Angeleno, in the act of conception. There were to be a few extra steps to get our family unit to the amazing holiday card ready cast that my friends had biologically created ad nauseum. We would have to decide about Adoption; Domestic or International? Foster to Adoption; how old the child will we go? Surrogacy; who’s friend to raise a turkey baster to in this above generous gift they were providing? Surrogacy when not related in love or blood; do we find these people on Craigslist, Angie’s List, Facebook? There was to be much to learn but I had a feeling that Michael was the one to make the journey with.

 Real it in Spats, I chanted. Let’s not put the station wagon in front of the horse. If this really was a ‘traditional valued’ gay man I couldn’t rush the situation and would have to let this unfold. Guys like this were few and far between. Chill baby, baby, chill baby baby. Really ADD? Vanilla Ice? I’m hipper than that.

 Actually, I’m not getting any younger as people would tell me and FYI get a move on when they stop telling you this. It might be the Universe giving you a reality check to start listening and fall into line. Tick Tock, Tick Tock goes the biological clock. Wait, what? I was forty but determined. Many great people I knew personally had started their families late in life. I have energy to boot and an inner monologue that wouldn’t shut up. I am going to rock this fatherhood thing into the next stage of my life and hum show tunes for lullabies.

 I held his hand as we walked out of the café. It was in part a thank you for sharing so much of his sweet soul as he had his time on a crazy Christmas Eve. His eyes are illuminating. There was a sense of promise in one so gassy. I saw a fuzzy family unit off in the future, a pin prick of light, each day growing closer and larger. It came into frame and I saw the tall person in the image was wearing a p-coat and an enormous, toothy smile.

 OH, SNAP! It wasn’t Vanilla Ice, it was C & C Music Factory. Mmmmm. Things that make you go Mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm.  I am too old for ‘oh, snap’ I remind myself. Yet I’m not too old to learn. Papa, Dad, Daddy; I like it. I wonder what I’ll be when I grow up.

 Cue the music.