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askiisoft · 5 years

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FAN ART FRIDAY: ALL THE WARRIORS, Part 2

And to think I was planning to fit all of the OCs into one week...yeah, not happening. With 50+ entries and counting, I’ll be lucky to fit them all into four parts.

Welcome back to Part 2 of “All The Warriors”, a multi-week showcase of the Katana ZERO community’s awesome fan characters! The volume of submissions for this event has been mind-blowing, to the point where I’ve had to create a dedicated Excel spreadsheet to keep track of them all. If you haven’t submitted your character yet, there’s still one week left! If you have, rest assured that it’ll will be included eventually, so please be patient!

For those who missed it, don’t forget to check out Part 1 of this series.

[WARNING: The work herein is based on fan creations, and should not be considered canon.]

Alpha 13, “Believer” by @DokusatsuMurXer

What is the loneliest number? ‘One’, you say? Nope, it’s 13...Alpha 13, that is.

Being one of the first Alpha-series NULL, it’s likely that Thirteen joined purely out of adoration for the illusive “Great Scientist”—a noble cause compared to the violent psychosis that defined the later Gamma-series NULL. While it’s clear he’s taken lives in service of his one-sided infatuation, it’s hard not to see him as another victim, still pining for his senpai’s attention even after everyone’s graduated and moved away years ago. Why do we always love the one who will hurt us the most?

According to @DokusatsuMurXer’s, the drunken swirls in his Post-war portrait are hiding something much steamier. I can only imagine.

Please, senpai. By @DokusatsuMurXer

—

Beta 6, “Blade” by @Khwany_kawawii

In the Third District, there’s only two ways to get what you need: by coercion, or by force. Beta 6 opts for both, and seems to have a reputation on par with The Dragon amongst hapless goons. Ironically, it seems amnesiac NULL like Blade or Zero are the ones who kept going on killing sprees after the war, instead of throwing in with criminal syndicates or settling into an ordinary day job.

Her giant curtain of hair, while a bit ridiculous-looking standing still, would certainly add a sense of dynamism as she flipped and pirouetted in midair, tossing knives left and right. Also, knives.

“With no drugs, I will die. But with the drugs...I am the Killing Angel.” By @Khwany_kawawii

—

Ema by @Khwany_kawawii

Well, would you look at that. Not only is Ema our first non-NULL OC, but also the first...*drum roll*...Cromag! That’s right—as a child, Ema barely survived a NULL attack that killed her family, and she’s dedicated her life to finding whoever was responsible ever since.

The concept of a private eye in Katana ZERO’s neo-noir metropolis, especially one who suffers from such intense trauma and racial discrimination, has fantastic plot potential. What if she finds the NULL who orphaned her, but they don’t remember it? What if they have to team up? I can’t help but wonder how long an average woman (bionic arm aside) could survive in this dark underbelly of drugged-up super-soldiers...

—

Gamma 4 by @camellia_066

Not every hero dies on a battlefield.

Being a commander means taking responsibility for those under your command. For some that extends beyond wartime, and especially so after the one-way process of becoming NULL; while an Alpha could skip doses of Chronos with nothing more than a nosebleed, a Gamma might require twice the dosage just to stay lucid.

Maybe the weight of New Mecca’s defeat was too much for him to bear. Maybe he knew that a cure for Chronos was a pipedream. But it was better to die for the slim chance of salvation than witness his former comrades slaughter one another for just another dose.

—

Gamma 12 by @wqwrppwu

So this is who’s been stealing my Uber Eats.

The idea of a Gamma-level NULL—especially one as devious-looking as Gamma 12—working as a pizza guy is hilarious to me. I have a soft spot for features like thin noses, wild eyes, and razor teeth that just scream “bad guy, stay away”. Most other NULL would just kill the cashier and take what they want, but Twelve uses his powers to steal booze and cigarettes and get away with it, every time.

It makes sense that he’d be best friends with Alpha 25, “Pomidor” (see Part 1) thanks to their mutual eccentricity and love of mayhem.

Camaraderie at work. By @wqwrppwu

—

Gamma 5 by twink-182

Beta 6 had better be a wizard to claim the nickname “Blade”, given how many Gamma-level knife experts roam the city’s underbelly. Once part of Fifteen’s circle of former NULL, Gamma 5 evidently saw the writing on the wall and decided to leave before his comrade’s vendetta drew him deeper into danger. Otherwise, who knows, we might have had a quick, teleporting knife-thrower heckling us throughout the Headhunter boss fight...yeah, maybe it’s for the best that he’s M.I.A.

I’m guessing the photo and red string is just another point on Fifteen’s byzantine conspiracy board; I hope we get to see the whole thing one day.

—

Alpha 4 by @kym0433

As with any conflict, the end of Cromag War produced massive windfalls for organized crime in terms of illegal weapons, war drugs, and super-soldiers thirsty for Chronos. Luckily for Alpha 4, the Chinese had carved out their own niche in New Mecca’s Chinatown, and they offered him a steady supply of "ke le nuo si”, as they called it, plus a cushy job as a bodyguard; after all, who would dare to start trouble on their turf? Who, but a certain samurai who walked up to the roulette table one day...

While Ted might not be the strongest NULL, he leads the pack in terms of fashion. No musty olive fatigues for this killer—whether it’s a traditional patterned chengshan or tasseled shawl, Ted makes it look awesome. No one would even suspect he’s hiding weapons under there!

By @kym0433

—

Beta 24, “Cecil” by @Tacoyaki86

Contrary to popular belief, the inability to feel pain is not a superpower, especially when paired with a military specialization as hazardous as demolitions and bomb disposal. Imagine not realizing your hands got blown off until you reached for a sip of coffee. That, and you’d be stone deaf from constant close-range explosions and minigun fire.

Knowing that, I can understand Beta 24′s desire to spend a quiet veterancy at a manga café, where the otaku don’t want to chat anyway and the biggest risks are coffee burns and paper cuts.

Also, is that chevron on his beret the same as Headhunter’s? That must indicate rank, or possibly explosives experts. Given Headhunter’s propensity for sticky mines and suicide vests, I’d believe it.

“Detonation successful!” By @Tacoyaki86

—

Gamma 767, “Retana” by @TailWood

Given how many NULL prefer close-range weapons like knives, swords, and bludgeons, having to fire artillery from kilometers away must seem like a crushing indignity for a Gamma like 767: slowing time just means it takes longer for his rockets to hit their targets, and he can’t even collect any trophies to show off to the guys at the bar once they’re off-duty! But hey, someone’s got to do it; I don’t think even the sharpest steel would do much against a tank...

By @TailWood

—

Gamma 9, “Nara” by @couriervictor

Sadism and sharp objects don’t pair well together. It was never explained why Headhunter chose to wear her old uniform everywhere, but in Gamma 9′s case it’s pretty clear: he’s an elite, and he wants you to know it. Lack of physical strength doesn’t matter, since everyone in Katana ZERO died in one hit anyway, and his affinity for throwing knives reminds me of Biker’s levels from Hotline Miami. More knives.

—

Alpha 35, “Sako” by @matsumatsu_kou

For a Gamma NULL, overcoming a debilitating wound is as simple as using their powers to ‘reset’ and try again until they can win the battle without a single scratch. Sadly, that wasn’t an option for their lesser Alpha brethren, as evidenced by Alpha 35.

There have been known cases of NULL choosing to retain scars and other superficial injuries as badges of honor, but if there’s a reason why Sako chooses to fight with a blind eye and busted arm, it’s beyond me. However, if Proto-15 is anything to go by, battle damage is a huge plus for you ferals out there, and it gives him an extra place to store those KNIVES. *snickt*

By @matsumatsu_kou

—

Beta 74 by @cheezysucks

“Take everything from a man but his weapon, and do not judge him thereafter.”

Even in the far-flung future of New Mecca, it seems PTSD still haunts soldiers returning from conflict, even those as exceptional as NULL—if a near-death experience is harrowing, imagine the trauma of countless actual deaths, each instance being dragged backwards in time to start over.

Still, as far as ex-NULL go, Beta 74 chose as honest a job as his ilk can manage, given their stigma abroad. And oh, wow, is he wearing a pair of those funky four-eyed night-vision goggles? Look them up, they’re real, and just as absurd-looking.

—

Gamma 5, “Heatseeker” by 6at

Pour one out for another fallen warrior, Gamma 5 (yes, I know there was already a Gamma 5 earlier, won’t be the last time this happens). Five seems more like a tactical fire commander than your average NULL, with actual combat armor and a bubble helmet seemingly inspired by early concept versions of Headhunter’s gear, replete with a digitized HUD; pretty slick-looking, I must say.

Knowing how far far New Mecca went to cover up the NULL program, I’m surprised they let Five live as long as they did, though his hermetic lifestyle likely made him a minimal risk. I’m guessing he was terminated around the same time the government halted the production of Chronos. Coincidence?

Seems like ‘Heatseeker’ attracted a bit too much heat, heh heh.

—

And that was Part 2 of our Katana ZERO OC event. Is your finger tired from scrolling yet? Not as much as mine...

Click here to read ‘Part 3: Was Going To Be The Finale But I’m Drowning’. Thanks immensely to every single artist who’s submitted their characters and expanded the world of Katana ZERO just a bit more!

By @wqwrppwu

#askiisoft #Devolver Digital #fan art #fan art friday #original character #do #not #steal #katanazero #katana zero

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artificialqueens · 7 years

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Say You Won’t Let Go Part 4 (Biadore) - Fucking Awful

A/N: As promised, a faster update!

For those joining this party now – here’s the link to the first installments:

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Here we pick up in Summer 2015, 3 months after Part 3. **UPFRONT STYLE WARNING** There is a lot of exposition in the beginning, and one totally convenient moment of flashback. They help explain what’s happening here without dragging the story on forever, so #sorrynotsorry

Oh, and as a reminder, the song: Say You Won’t Let Go

I knew I needed you But I never showed But I wanna stay with you until we’re grey and old

Spring 2015. At first, after what Danny would mentally refer to as “The Florida Fuck-Up,” it was awkward. So awkward. Danny was trying to act normal, like nothing ever happened, but Roy was clearly putting distance between them. It may have looked like everything was okay to the casual observer, but Danny sensed the shift.

Still, he tried to rationalize it. Sure, Roy didn’t really talk to him the next day at the Orlando show – but obviously he was just exhausted. And it was totally natural that, at his last BOTS show the next night, Roy avoided Danny completely and got ready in a separate dressing room; he probably just wanted to spend the last day getting ready with Michelle. And it only immediately pulled out of a few international dates with Danny and Shane right after – because he was out preparing and kicking off the tour for Rolodex of Hate.

Yup, all of that was totally normal.

Danny resolved that if Roy was going to avoid him, he would avoid Roy. So, he threw himself into a hurricane of work and travel. Danny was going to occupy as much of his own time as the universe would allow – at least for as long as it took to get over whatever the fuck he was feeling, and for Roy to get back to normal.

Luckily it was a very eventful period in his life. Danny started working on his next album, played live music shows across the country, toured for Drag Race around the globe, made new friends with all the Ru girls, shot music videos he was artistically proud of…he even started dating someone new, but more on that later.

Of course, it wasn’t all good – life’s never that easy. In the aftermath of his father’s death, Danny’s own health got a little out of whack from not sleeping. He didn’t want to think to hard about what was keeping him up at night; Danny knew from a few tries at therapy that his relationship with his dad was better left unexamined. The tours were great to distract him, but the pressure to always be “on,” the grueling schedule, and the constant berating from Michelle – and vicious non-fan girls – wore him down. Danny could familiar feelings of depression creeping through his insomnia.

But when things went south, as if like magic, Roy came back. After a month or so of silence, Roy started writing him every single day. The medium would change – Tweets, texts, emails – but it was constant. Didn’t matter if Danny replied or not, Roy worked his way back to being a constant in his life. And all as if everything was cool and casual.

It took Danny some time to get used to that. Their first real conversation was that June, just before Roy’s birthday. He invited Danny on a group trip to Mexico, a vacation to celebrate his 40th birthday. As badly as he wanted to go – to celebrate with Roy, to hug him for the first time in months, to see his half-naked tanned body sparkling in the ocean – he ultimately said no. Alcohol and hotel rooms seemed to spell trouble for the two of them, and Danny couldn’t trust his own limited sense of self control; if he went, there was a 99.9% chance he’d end up pinning Roy against a wall and embarrassing himself yet again.

So instead Danny sent a gift, and a stupid funny card with a made up excuse about recording dates he couldn’t miss. Roy sent him a string of texts that alternated between Bianca angry and legitimately angry – more of the latter when he realized Danny lied. He must have forgiven him quickly, though, because just on the 4th of July Danny got a surprise in the mail.

–

July 2015. For the first time he could remember, there was a package waiting on his front porch on a sunny Saturday. It was a small box – bright red paper, obnoxious bow twice the size of the box itself. Inside a key – not a regular brass or silver one, but one of those ridiculous things with custom images printed on it. This one had Pennywise the Clown stamped all over it. Underneath, there was a note:

If you’d bothered to come to Mexico instead of being a lying piece of shit, you would’ve heard this in person – I’m getting a place in LA, and planning to be there at the end of July and most of August. Housewarming on July 24th. Be there or you’re dead to me, cunt. Address on the back. Love you, pussyfart.

Danny was thrilled. This was a clear gesture of forgiveness for his admittedly childish behavior – not just for the birthday, but for all of it – and he wasn’t going to wuss out on finally seeing Roy face-to-face. He grabbed his phone and fired off a text.

Danny: Just got your special delivery – admittedly not the kind of package I was hoping to get today, but it’ll do. Wouldn’t miss it for the world, see you in a couple of weeks. Miss you xx

His fingers typed too fast to double check what he wrote. Reading it back, he wondered if the dick joke and the extra “miss you” were mistakes. But his phone pinged before he could think too long about it.

Roy: WOW, I KNEW YOU WERE A LAZY QUEEN BUT I DIDN’T REALIZE YOU WANTED DICK DELIVERED TO YOUR DOORSTEP. MENTAL NOTE FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY. DICKMATES.

As usual Roy wrote it off as a joke. That suited Danny – better a joke than have to unpack any of what was really going on.

But then, another ping.

Roy: CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU. MISS YOU MORE. XX

–

When the party finally rolled around, Danny made sure to come with a crowd. He needed back up if he was going to go in live. Rather than risk being alone with Roy – that was a normal thing for best friends to avoid, right? – Danny made sure to link up with Shane, Justin and Willam for comfort.

“I can’t believe we finally converted that bitch into an LA queen,” shouted Willam from Courtney’s bathroom. He had just finished de-dragging from a Paint Me Bitch, and was checking for last hints of makeup.

“He hasn’t committed to moving here yet. He just got a place out here.” Courtney responded from the kitchen, pouring a final round of Fireball shots before calling the Uber to leave.

“A spot in New York and one in LA? Please, that $100,000 is gonna run out real soon. 2 months and he’ll be LA only, for sure.” Willam paused to rinse his face. “I’m surprised it even took this long, considering how many time I told him he never would. You know he can’t back away from a challenge – first going on Drag Race at all, then moving to LA. Lord knows fish lips can’t turn down a shot.”

Meanwhile, Justin sat with Danny on the couch as they both scrolled through their phones. Danny could see that the party had already started – Detox and Raja were already sending snaps of Roy’s ridiculously nice apartment and the many beautiful men who had shown up to celebrate it. Danny felt a pang in his chest scrolling through pictures of Roy hugging strangers under the kind of romantic lights he’d strung up on his patio.

Who can afford a private deck in WeHo?, Danny wondered. He was trying to cover a pang that felt a lot like jealousy.

He snapped out of it when Willam walked out of the bathroom and said, “I’m serious, you could probably get him to suck your dick just by telling him you bet he wouldn’t do it.”

Both Shane and Justin ever so briefly but so obviously stopped what they were doing and glanced at Danny. He tried to ignore the comment and the looks, but Danny could feel his face go beet red in response.

“What the fuck?” Danny had hoped he missed it, but clearly Willam caught their split second looks and his lingering flush. “I ain’t stupid or hallucinating, can someone please tell me what just happened?”

A couple beats of silence. Danny prayed they would just stay quiet; Willam wasn’t known for patience, and he’d likely change the subject if no one took the bait for a good 30 seconds. He managed to lock eyes with Justin and send that psychic message, but unfortunately it was too late to reach Shane.

“Danny doesn’t want to talk about it!”

Fuck that fucking koala twink, I swear to God I’ll flush him backwards down the toilet, Danny thought to himself.

“Goddammit Shane, can you not keep your mouth shut!” Before Danny could react, Justin was laughing in feigned anger and threw a pillow at the blonde bartender. “Seriously, you are un-fucking-believable sometimes!”

“Hey, watch it!” Shane had successfully ducked the pillow, and now chucked it back at Justin. “You almost made me spill perfectly good Fireball. Some of us can’t show up to this party sober, especially if we have to hide long-suffering crushes on our host.” Shane threw the back of his hand across his forehead at the last sentence, laying on the drama for comedic effect.

Shane and Justin both seemed to find this situation just sooo funny. Danny, on the other hand, was NOT amused. He shot is Doc Marten-clad right foot across the couch, kicking Justin right in the shin with all the strength he could muster. Clearly that had been a lot, from the way he yelped in response.

“What the hell, Lask? Did you tell Shane what I told…well I mean what I kind of told…what we talked about on tour?” Danny had made a conscious effort not to reveal anything about his crush to Shane, feeling it would be totally unfair to but the C in the middle of A and B. Justin, his mom and Chris were the only ones who he’d even sort of talked to about Roy, and he felt betrayed that his road homie Alaska would sell him out.

“Oh relax, Danny. I’m blonde, not blind. You love Roy.” Shane grabbed an ice pack out of the freezer and brought it over to Justin, who was rocking his leg back and forth. Danny was about to object, but Shane steamrolled on. “You looooove him. Who do you think tipped Justin off? We all saw how broody you were on BOTS, practically dying of unrequited love. You had to talk to someone if you wouldn’t talk to me, and figured Justin was as good as anybody.”

Justin spoke through gritted teeth. “It’s not like Shane really had to tell any of us in the first place. Watching you two I was surprised you didn’t fuck like rabbits right there on the tour bus floor. Every conversation you felt like it came out of either a romantic comedy or the first 2 minutes of some really bad porn.” Justin was rolling his eyes at the memory.

Shit, thought Danny. So much for being subtle.

“Alright fuckers, once more for those of us who weren’t on your little tour. What is happening here?” Willam scanned the room, determined to get an answer.

Shane started. “So Danny has a thing for Roy.”

“Duh, I’m not a dumbass. I already knew that. Everybody knows that.” Willam rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by the information.

“What?” The flush was deepening on Danny’s cheeks, making a permanent home there.

“Don’t you read Reddit?” Willam looked at Danny and raised an eyebrow. “Besides, who doesn’t want to fuck him and see if those tired ass ‘big dick and no credit’ jokes are true? Shit, I’ve seen the print in the sweatpants. Everyone going to this party would probably like to take a crack at that.”

“I, uh, think it’s a little more complicated than that. Danny is – “

Justin kept talking, but Danny stopped listening. It was like an out of body experience, astral projection brought on by total mortification.

He could not believe this was really happening. Now all the AAA Girls – God, he hated that stupid name right now – knew the T about his feelings for Roy. Feelings that should be irrelevant, because Danny had a boyfriend now, but that certainly were about to get real relevant, real quickly.

Between Courtney’s well-intentioned blabber mouth, Justin’s inability to lie convincingly, and the notoriously gossipy Willam, there was no way this was going to stay under wraps. Especially not with booze around. Danny was convinced that within the next few hours Roy would know he was in love with him and the whole thing would really crumble. It wouldn’t matter that he’d finally figured out how to move on and just push down his feelings, or that he was making all the effort to be normal with Roy. Danny was only 2 shots of that sugary shitty whiskey in, but he could feel his head getting woozy from the combination of fear, alcohol, and embarrassment.

His reeling mind was interrupted by Shane, who threw an arm around him and squeezed tight. “Danny, babe. Don’t worry about it. Everything is fine. I’m sorry I said anything at all. Your relationship with Roy is your business, nothing to make light of or talk about – unless you want to. Do you want to?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely NOT.” Danny managed to spit out, the laying on a thick layer of resolution to mask the fact that he did want to talk about it. Desperately, in fact. Just not right now. “Besides, I have –“

“Jesus, Court. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it..” Willam reached across the counter and swatted at the back of Shane’s head. He was not the one Danny expected would come to his rescue in this scenario, but life is full of surprises.

Willam continued. “Come on, if he really is all hung up on Hung-lock then why the fuck would he want to talk about it before we go to his party? And, if I’m not mistaken, Danny has a perfectly hot piece of ass to keep him happy anyway. Who needs to talk about an old crush when you’ve got a boyfriend to suck your dick at night, am I right?”

“Ok, well –“

“Ok, well nothing.” Willam cut Shane off before he could even get out a third word. “Let’s take these shots – Redbull for you, Betty Ford –” he gestured to Justin, “and get our asses to this party. We gotta make it there before Jackie leaves for the Early Bird special.”

Shane passed out the shots, while Willam walked behind him topping off the glasses until they nearly overflowed. Justin cracked open his energy drink and they all took deep swigs. Danny could feel the alcohol running through his system almost immediately – he’d barely eaten that day – and was happy that it was finally starting to have the desired calming effect rather than fueling his worries.

“Good work ladies, warm up your throats for the rest of the night.” Willam wasted no time. “Shane, is the Uber here yet?”

“Yup, he’s pulling up now. Grab the stuff we’re taking over there and meet me downstairs, this driver looks cute and I need five minutes to figure out if he’s gay.” Shane grabbed his keys and bolted out the door. His voice descended down the stairs as he called out, “Don’t forget to lock up behind us!”

“Hold up, I already called dibs on any Uber drivers. Do you not understand the concept of ‘Shotgun’ wherever you’re from?” Justin followed Shane, whining as they walked down the stairs.

“Those fuckers are just trying to get out of carrying this” – Willam gestured to the handles of alcohol they were bringing, and several bags of Roy’s stuff he’d left at all their individual apartments over the last 2 years – “down to the car.”

“Doubt it. Never underestimate the dick-pigging of Courtney Act.” Danny retorted.

“Whatever, as long as she wears protection or you drive her to the clinic. You take those, I’ve got the booze and the door.”

Danny picked up the bags and headed for the open door. But before he could cross the threshold, Willam stepped in and blocked it.

“Look, kid, I know we don’t know each other that well yet. But I swear I won’t say a word about this to Roy or anyone else. Swear on my Dolce, on my IMDb page, on Warner – I ain’t saying shit to nobody.” He cracked a smile, a surprisingly warm gesture based on what Danny knew of Willam so far..

“But, if you ever do want to talk about it with someone who will be real about it and not coddle you…that’s what Justin’s for. He’s the Miranda, I’m Samantha.” He stepped out of the doorway and let Danny through.

Danny walked out, calling over his shoulder, “That’s from like Gossip Girl or something, right?” He galloped carefully down the stairs, laughing while Willam ranted angrily behind him.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you Goddamn fetus!”

–

Danny guessed he had been at the party for 2 hours. Time had never been a strong point of his, so he couldn’t be sure, but based on how hard the new shots of (real) whiskey and series of (strong) tokes he’d taken from a few strangers when he first walked in, he figured it must be about 2 hours.

He’d seen Roy for thirty whole seconds in that entire span, just for a quick hug and cheek kiss when he walked through the door with the AAA girls. Roy made a lame joke about no one ever need a 4th A before flitting off to greet more guests.

No matter, Danny didn’t read anything into it. He couldn’t if he wanted to – see: the liquor and weed. He quickly found himself, Jack & Coke in hand, comfortably lounging in a laid out chair on Roy’s fairy light-littered patio. He was there shooting the shit with Detox, Raja, Justin, Sam (the Uber drive that Shane had talked into joining the party), and some guy named John who was clearly D’s trade for the evening. Willam and Shane were off singing karaoke and trying to pretend – not very well, in Danny’s opinion – that they weren’t fucking each other.

“Danny, babe, how’s the music coming?” Raja was packing a bowl so that he could properly smoke.

He closed his eyes and let out a little hum. “Right, I haven’t seen you in a few months have I? Um, it’s going really well. I like the direction these producers are letting me take it, I’m just finalizing some of the first few tracks now.” Raja had put him in his happy place, talking about his work.

“That’s great, brujita. You’re gonna make something really, really great. I know it.” Raja lit the pipe and took a drag, giving Detox a chance to chime in.

“So what’s your vibe on this one? Are you gonna keep up the party thing, or –“

Danny could talk about his music forever. “Nah, not really. I mean, I still want to keep some of that stuff in there, because I know people love it and I know I can do it, but this whole thing is about range for me.” He took the pipe from Raja for a quick hit before continuing.

“They’re letting me write pretty much everything, which is so fucking rad. I’ve got the upbeat tracks in production, and I’m writing some, like, real sexy stuff right now. What I need is something really dark, something kind of angsty. Like painful, grunge-y stuff – very that.” Danny paused for a beat, reflecting on his own writer’s block.

“But I’m having trouble getting that to come out as easy. It’s like I have this – “ Danny raised his hands around his head “ – brain block. I can’t get anything out that feels real. Like, real real. Not fake sad stuff.”

Another pause to shake his head, and run his fingers through his hair – one of his many nervous tells. “But I think I really need that, you know? Something that really chokes your soul. I want to make this some career defining, Nevermind type shit with this album.”

Satisfied he’s gotten his point across, Danny took the pipe back for a third hit in as many minutes. He let his words settle across the group until he heard it.

“Um, what’s Nevermind?” It was that twinky little John kid, looking around the group for any kind of clue as to what Danny was talking about. Raja and Sam laughed, Detox looked mortified, and Danny was ready to pounce. How the fuck could a grown adult not know about Nirvana?

Justin jumped in before Danny could launch into a tirade on Kurt Cobain. “Uh, D, I think you should take the zygote home before Danny goes full Courtney Love or lectures us on the significance of flannel.”

Detox hopped up and grabbed John by the hand, escorting him away from the circle before Danny could formulate his thoughts into a coherent history lesson.

“Anyway…” Sober Justin had a knack for steering conversations for his less than sober friends. “You shouldn’t push yourself to write anything you don’t feel. Just let it flow.” He reached over and squeezed Danny’s hand.

“I mean, it must be hard to to write something sad when your life is going so great, right?!” For the first time since they’d gotten out of the car, Danny heard Sam speak.

On their drive over, he’d made it very clear that he was a huge Drag Race fan – huge enough not to charge them – and spent the 30 traffic-heavy, car-bound minutes talking about how much he loved each of them and his theories on the show. It was a combination of the free ride, full-out nerd-fest – bordering somewhere between endearing and terrifying – and the fact that you could see his abs through his t-shirt and the cardigan on top of it that made Justin invite him to join the party. The guy had just been following him around all night, staring in awe at him – the Alaska effect, Danny called it. He had honestly forgotten that Sam could even speak.

“What are you talking about? You don’t know me like that.” Danny was confused, and his confusion often manifested itself as defensive.

“I – um,” Sam was visibly a little bit shooketh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was…I just mean, it must be hard to write something sad when you’re on top of the world! Like, your last album did so well, you have all these fans…” The poor kid was clearly freaking out, and he just kept getting more animated in his adoration for Adore as he went on.

“Your music videos are sickening, and like everyone around the world wants you to come play in these huge cities, and you’re working on a new album…and on top of that, you have an incredibly hot boyfriend! Like, seriously, you have the best life ever.”

Oh right, my boyfriend. Danny hadn’t thought about Joshua all night, maybe even all day. Certainly not since the earlier conversation about Roy.

Truth be told, Joshua was a boyfriend that basically fell into Danny’s lap at the right place and time…

*Flashback – early April 2015. It was a couple of weeks after the tour ended, when he was still trying every possible thing to get his mind off what happened with both his family and with Roy. A tall, handsome, dark-skinned stranger approached Danny in a Starbucks. He was shocked at first, surprised that someone would have the balls to hit on a stranger in broad daylight in the world of Grindr and DMs…until Joshua explained that he was looking for the laptop charger he’d left plugged in at the table Danny was now occupying. He collected his belongings and left. Danny looked on in total mortification, until Joshua turned around seconds later to properly introduce himself and ask for his number.

Joshua was a PhD candidate, working on his Doctorate in Social Work, who spent a lot of time writing his thesis in that Starbucks. He and Danny both loved video games, the old Batman movies, and tattoo artistry. Their first official date rolled from meeting back at the Starbucks, to roaming The Last Bookstore, to dinner at In-N-Out, to sneaking into the Cinespia showing of Heathers. It ended with a passionate make-out in front of Danny’s apartment, and by their third date they were fucking in between viewings of cult classics and class or the studio.

*Present/Back at Roy’s party. From that first meeting, it was all downhill. It helped that Joshua was buried in his own work the same way Danny as buried in his. He never made Danny feel guilty for long days of recording or late night gigs, because at the same time he was in TA-ing or volunteering or working on his research. The complementary schedules and the complementary interests made it all so…easy.

But easy was getting boring, at least to Danny. They were both so busy that they were seeing each other less and less, and when they did it was just old habits and repeated conversations that didn’t require much effort. In the last few weeks he realized how much he cared for Joshua, but also that he needed more. More spark, more touch, more affection, more fire. He figured Joshua must feel the same way, but be too shy to bring it up. And so Danny had made a concerted effort to get what he wanted.

This week, Joshua was in Mexico with his PhD friends, shoulders deep in frozen margaritas and tanning oil to celebrate end of semester. Before he left, Danny had talked to him about taking their own vacation sometime soon; he hoped that could bring some of the more he was looking for. Joshua hadn’t said much about it, but promised they’d talk about it when he got back. To keep himself excited, Danny was sending him photos and lists of places they could go.

All this to keep the spark alive, and to show Joshua he was taking their relationship seriously. To prove he could have a real relationship without any real resolution to his feelings for Roy. To prove he could just put his crush on Roy behind him and get behind a tall, muscular, sweet guy like Joshua instead…

“How do you know Danny’s boyfriend is hot?” Raja’s half laughing, half startled voice brought Danny’s mind floating back into the conversation. “Or that he has a boyfriend at all?”

“Twitter, Instagram, all that shit.” Sam responded as if it was so obvious. “That hot guy has been in the background of all his posts and Snapchat stories for, like, months. He’s your boyfriend, right Danny?”

“Uh, yeah. I mean, he’s my – yeah, he’s my boyfriend. Was it really that obvious?” Danny didn’t realize he’d made Joshua such a thing on his social media.

“Well, yeah, I mean at least for people like me who are on watch.”

“Watch for what?” Justin piped in.

“All Stars 2, duh.” Justin froze for half a second, pausing mid-sip of his Redbull so quickly that it was imperceptible. “We all know it’s gonna happen, and sometime soon, so we’re watching out to see if any of you guys go dark because you’re off shooting it.”

“And who exactly is is this ‘we’?” Justin asked, looking a little concerned. “Is there some cult of Drag Race out there trying to – “

He was interrupted by a foghorn of a voice – a voice that still shot fireflies through Danny’s body.

“Who cares. It doesn’t matter, they’re barking up the wrong tree if they think any of you losers are gonna get an All Stars call.” With that, Roy plopped down into the seat next to Danny. “No one would watch that fucking show. I mean, I love them, but we all know just how charitable I – “

“Oh my God, it’s been like a year! Can you please get a new joke?!” The words spilled out of Danny’s mouth before he could stop them. He only hoped it came out funnier than the snide, cutting way he’d meant it.

Danny couldn’t see it, but Roy flinched. Roy could always tell when he was serious. But all Danny heard was his half-joking Bianca response.

“Well I’d ask you guys to write some for me, but for that you’d have to be literate.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Danny rolled his eyes and smiled. “Seriously, get some new material. That shit doesn’t age well, and I don’t just mean yo’ face.” As he teased Roy, Danny relaxed into the small but conscientious space left between them. He settled into his favorite position: leaning into Roy’s left side, head lightly nestled on the crook of his neck, right hand resting just above his left knee. It was a position that calmed him, cleared his mind and made everything ok. Danny had half-sat / half-snuggled that way at least a thousand times on the show and on tour, it was so ingrained in his muscle memory that it he’d done it without noticing.

What he also didn’t notice, all of which happened in the blink of an eye: The hitch and then slowing of Roy’s breath. Justin looking at them with a smile. Raja’s cocked eyebrow. And Sam expression of confusion and glee.

Sam’s voice brought Danny back to reality. “Are you kidding? Everyone would die to see Alaska and Adore back on Drag Race.”

Luckily, he didn’t have to stay there long. “Adore DeLaska would crush All Stars 2, no question. The dream team.”

With the mention of teams and All Stars, Sam had managed to fully redirect the conversation. Justin, Roy, Raja and Sam started debating the merits of the team systems in the first All Stars, quickly devolving into loud argument about why Manila, Latrice or Nina Flowers were robbed. The volume drew people over to join them – Willam and Shane after a quick make-out, Detox after sending his boy home, and some other friends – enough that Danny didn’t have to participate. Instead he could stay silently snuggled up, letting the smoke and whiskey swirl, looking up at the fairy lights, and feeling the buzz of Roy’s chest every time he spoke or laughed.

This was their normal, how their friendship had been before Danny fucked it up. It was exactly what he’d hoped for.

–

Time passed. Again, Danny couldn’t tell exactly how much, but gun-to-his-head he would guess another hour. He was getting so sleepy, eyelids so heavy he couldn’t stop them from drooping. It was too comfortable nestled in Roy to move or try to stay awake.

But his vibrating ass slowly drew him out of the twilight. Really it was the vibrating phone in his back pocket, but in that moment it just felt like his butt cheeks were dancing.

What really pulled him out of the daze was Roy’s hand – the hand that seconds before had been gently thumbing circles on his forearm – gripping his bicep to shake him awake. “Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You awake? Your ass is ringing.”

Danny didn’t want to answer. Whoever it was, they should know better to call him at 1:30am on a Saturday night. “Ugh, just leave it. Who the fuck is calling me right now, anyway?”

“I bet it’s your boyfriend!” Sam, again.

“Your what?!” This time it was Roy who sounded angry, hoping it would come off as funny. Danny missed it entirely – all he heard was boyfriend.

“My wha – Oh. Oh! Joshua.” Danny was awake now. Joshua hadn’t actually called him all week – just one word responses to all Danny’s texts – and he didn’t want to miss his first call in four days. He hopped off the oversized chair with surprising agility and sped off, missing the upset and baffled look on Roy’s face. He walked straight through the apartment and out the front door, the only quiet place he could think of. He banked on the door not locking behind him.

Alone and able to focus on his phone, Danny checked the call log. 3 missed calls from Joshua, and a couple of texts.

The first, before he called.

Joshua: Hi. Can you talk?

The second, after two missed calls.

Joshua: Danny, call me.

A third, just a few minutes before the last ring.

Joshua: Where are you? I need to talk to you.

Danny panicked. Something was wrong. Joshua was stranded or kidnapped or sick – it just wasn’t right. He immediately called back, but after a few rings there was no answer. He dialed again. And again. And a fourth time.

After four calls, he resorted to his own texts.

Danny: Babe, I’m soo o so sorty!

His own mistake-laden drunk texts. They flowed in a fast wave.

Danny: At Roys party. Couldn’t here phone. Vibezrate.

Danny: Whats happening? R u ok?

Danny: Are u safe? I cn sent help or send $#$$ just come get u yself.

Danny: Tell me ur ok!?!

Immediately there were bubbles. He’s alive. He can type. Danny allowed the thoughts of relief to calm him slightly.

Joshua: Yeah, I’m fine. You’re at a party?

Danny: Kinda. Roy’s. House warm thing.

Joshua: Ok, let’s talk about this later then. Have fun tonight.

Danny: Nooeeooz! Call me! I miss u!

Danny dialed him again, but there was no answer.

Joshua: Seriously Danny, let’s just talk tomorrow.

Danny wasn’t taking no for an answer. He called again – no answer. And again – straight to voicemail, it didn’t even ring.

Danny: Pick up! Pick up pick up!

No bubbles, no response.

Danny: Com on JOhua, I mss u! Want to talk to u.

Danny: Want to show off my boyfriend

Danny: Thy saw u on my Snaps nd stuff they know you’r cute, I wanna show you off!

And then, suddenly, there were bubbles. Long bubbles. Three actual minutes of bubbles, but to Danny it felt like hours. Why the text message took so long to send became immediately clear.

Joshua: Danny, I - Maybe this is just easier to say now. I can’t do this anymore. When we started this, I told you I was looking for something casual and easy. There’s too much going on in my life with school and work and my little brother moving out here… I thought you understood that. But obviously not, you’re talking about taking trips together and calling me your boyfriend – we never even talked about that! Christ, I’m on your social media and you’re telling strangers before we even talk about it. My friends just showed me all the posts, I feel like I just got fucking ambushed. I just can’t handle this right now. I think you’re so great, but I can’t be anybody’s boyfriend right now and I can’t make a commitment to you.

Before Danny could finish reading the paragraph, two more texts came through.

Joshua: You should have someone who loves you the way you want them to.

Joshua: But that won’t be me.

Danny was actually dumbstruck. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t blink, he didn’t even know how he was breathing. The only think he was consciously doing was replaying the words “But that won’t be me” over and over and over on a CNN crawl.

After a few brief moments of paralysis, Danny tried to call Joshua. He was convinced he could talk his way out of this.

No answer on the first try. He was psyching himself up to call again, reassuring himself that he could get Joshua back – when he realized he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Think this through, he forced himself to pause. Was he, Daniel Noriega, really going to beg for a man who didn’t want him? Joshua was right, really. He deserved someone who loved him the way he wanted to be loved. And anyway, hadn’t he spent the last few weeks worrying about getting the spark back? Maybe there was no spark to begin with. Maybe easy – what Joshua wanted, and what Danny found boring – was all they were.

Easy was never going to be enough for Danny. Ever since he was 5 years old and saw that ridiculous Olsen twins’ movie It Takes Two, he always knew he was going to need that “can’t eat, can’t sleep, reach for the stars, over the fence, world series kind of love.” Joshua had probably just saved him from doing what he always did: trying to make more out of relationships than was actually there.

Really, this is a good thing. Danny thought to himself. His brain knew it, but is heart still heart. He felt the lingering sensation of the wind being knocked out of him, and his eyes seemed to be watering of their own volition. No matter how ‘good’ this was, it didn’t dull the pain of raw, total rejection. Memorialized forever in a text message, no less.

After a taking a few minutes to process, Danny knew then that it was time to start moving. Just like after Florida, he went in search of something to distract from the growing (emotional) wound in his chest. He called this ‘shark mode’ – swim or die.

He made a beeline for the group he’d left just 15 or 20 minutes before, hoping to snatch Roy away from the conversation. Danny could use him as a diversion – seize the moment to properly catch up with his best friend and talk until he went numb or he went home, which ever came first.

But Roy was nowhere to be found – not in the chair he’d left him in, not anywhere else on the patio.

“D – “ Danny slid up alongside Detox, who reached an arm around his shoulders and hugged him immediately.

“Hey baby girl, you ok? Your eyes look a little…” Detox pulled an unpleasant face, but still managed to look concerned for his friend.

Danny could guess why. He knew his emotions had gotten the better of him and that he’d cried just a little, probably making the little bit of eyeliner he had on run, but he didn’t really care.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. I’m fine.” Danny flashed a half-fake smile. “Do you know where Roy went?”

“Yeah, he walked away right after you got up. Looked like he was going inside. Listen, you sure you’re ok?” Clearly Danny hadn’t been very convincing.

“Yeah, yeah. Totally fine. I’ll just – where did he go?”

Then, a voice from the chair below them. It was Shane. “I think I saw him go into the kitchen, babe. What’cha need?”

“I need to – I need – where’s the kitchen?”

“Inside the apartment, first door on the left.” Shane pointed vaguely towards the patio doors.

“Thanks, I’ll be right back.” Danny took off for the door. He was of singular mind: Find Roy. Talk to Roy. Roy will make this better.

When Danny found the kitchen, he was stopped dead in his tracks by an image that would burn in his brain for months – far longer than any text from Joshua.

There was a handsome blonde man standing next to Roy at the double kitchen sink, laughing very close to each others’ faces. The water was running, both tubs were filling with bubbles, and they appeared to be washing some of the dishes from the party. Danny had seen the other guy around – the friend in the background of WeHo girls’ photos, that’s how he recognized him – and guessed he was somewhere in his mid-30s. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt that highlighted his tan, and from his laughing smile Danny could see that he had equally bright white teeth.

And then, as Danny hovered at the door before interrupting, it happened: Handsome Blonde Man dropped the sponge he was holding and grabbed Roy’s face instead, pulling him in from laugh to kiss. Danny was sure that Roy was going to swat him away – that he’d be grossed out by the soapy water, or shocked that this guy had so suddenly made a move – but he didn’t. Roy threw the dishtowel on the ground, grabbed Handsome Blonde Man by the waist, and backed him against the counters behind them. He deepened the kiss as he did so, taking it from surprise peck to full on make-out. Hands started to wander, Danny saw Roy’s hand go into HBM’s hair as HBM’s hand inched towards the hem of Roy’s shirt –

It was too much. Danny slammed his eyes shut, whipped silently back into the hallway, and took very quiet steps away from the kitchen until he was sure he would be out of ear shot. He ended up in Roy’s sewing room, which was thankfully had no windows to the patio, crouching by a dress form.

And then he cried.

Not silent little tears. Not pretty fat mascara drops. Ugly, wheezing, shaking, as much dry heaving as anything else – real crying. He was desperately using his hands to muffle whatever sound he could, barely snorting in enough air to blow it back out in sobs.

Breathe. You have to breathe. Danny was trying to coach himself out of this.

In for 2, out for 2. In for 2, out for 2. Counting wasn’t helping.

You can’t let them hear you. You can’t let him hear you. Fear wasn’t helping either.

Why are you even crying anyway? Is this about Joshua? Or is it because… Danny knew he needed to stop his train of thought quickly.

Luckily, a wild Willam appeared.

“Danny what the fuck is that noise, did you already find somebody to fu—Oh shit.” Willam squatted down alongside Danny and threw his arms around him. “Hey kid, what’s going on? Breathe, breathe, breathe.” He started rocking Danny back and forth, trying to calm him down.

Knowing he’d have to explain eventually, Danny decided to just start lying now. Through sobs at every pause, he was able to spit out half the truth: “I – I just got – text – Ro – I mean, Joshua – Josh - Joshua just broke up with me – on – a fucking – text message.”

“Ah fuck that little shit. Fuck him in his stupid face. Where he at in Mexico? I’ll go down there and kill him.”

He appreciated the protectiveness of his new-ish friend. Again, he spoke between sobs. “No – it’s – it’s ok. – Don’t – Just leave it.” Danny was starting to calm down, and was able to string together full sentences without yelping. “It’s not his fault. He did the right thing.” He wiped away some of his tears.

“Ok, so if that’s true then why are you over here crying like Mufasa just died?”

Danny knew he would just have to ramble his way out of this one. Talking endlessly usually got him out of most sticky situations. “Umm –“ But he was drawing a blank.

“I’m guessing it has less to do with that boyfriend and more to do with your other one. The one who’s in the kitchen right now about to get his dick sucked by a good-looking blonde dude?”

With that, the floodgates opened back up. Danny was back in the throws of tears, shaking and gasping as he curled into a ball.

“Oh, sweetie.” Willam dropped his coated exterior for just a moment. “Shh, shh. It’s ok, let’s get you outta here. Wipe your face, I’ll call you an Uber. Do you want me to go with you? I can get Shane or Jus –“

“No.” Danny wasn’t going to let anyone else into this. “No – I’m – I’ll be – I’ll be fine. Uber is good. I can go al – I can go alone. Just, p – please don’t tell them why I left?” He hoped Willam could keep his mouth shut again.

“You got it boo.” He was already fiddling with his Uber app. “But I gotta tell ‘em something. Can I use the actual boyfriend thing as cover?”

Danny couldn’t tell if he was joking, but he figured everyone would have to find out anyway. Might as well let someone else tell it for him. “Sure, f – fine. Just not –“

“Don’t worry, secret’s safe with me. Now let’s get you up and outta here before you cry on one of these dresses and Haylock comes to murder-suicide you, Shakespeare-style.”

Danny half laughed, half sobbed. Star-crossed lovers was starting to sound about right. Willam helped him up and out the door, fast enough that no one could’ve seen. Danny was grateful for that.

He was still crying when he got into the Uber, but now the wild sobbing had subsided and he was able to reasonably mask the tears from the driver. Letting them flow in silence, he texted Willam.

Danny: Can’t say thank you enough for getting me out of there and covering for me. Muchisimas gracias

Willam: Bitch, I don’t speak Spanish – the fuck you say? Anyway, anytime. Had to take care of my best girl’s best girl.

Danny: Ha, right. Shane’s lucky, glad you know we know.

Willam: We’re not fooling anyone. But I am, right now – story’s already spreading that you went home because of your dipshit boyfriend who broke up with you over a stupid text message. Reasons include: he’s actually straight, he’s ashamed of his small dick, he couldn’t handle you, he’s dying in 6 weeks…

Danny: THANK YOU.

In the midst of their conversation, texts started flowing through from friends at the party.

Shane: DANNY! DANNY! ADORM. I’m so sorry, love. Willam just told us what happened. Are you ok? Call me in the morning xx

Detox: Babe, just heard from Justin. I’ll castrate that Joshua dude in his sleep. Where is he staying in Mexico? Send me his Twitter handle.

Justin: Willam told us about the text. Get some rest. We’ll come by in the morning. Love you, Adore Cilantro.

Raja: Casting spells on that motherfucker tonight, his dick is gonna be real small now.

They kept rolling in – from friends at the party, friends of friends at the party, even his cousin. He had to beg Johnny not to say anything to his mom before he could call her in the morning.

By 4am everything quieted down. But one text never came, the one he kept hoping he would see: one from Roy. That didn’t come through until noon the next day.

Roy: Baby girl, I just heard what happened last night. Sorry, I had to turn in early last night and I missed all the action. Call me if you want to talk about it. Love you.

It was late, and it was a lie. And it made Danny cry all over again.

Danny: No worries, B. Fucking idiot wasn’t worth my time anyway.

–

A week later, Handsome Blonde Man started making regular appearances in Roy’s social media posts.

3 days after that, Danny got the call to do All Stars 2. Roy was the first person he told – via text.

2 days before he left, another package showed up on Danny’s doorstep. Red paper, giant bow. Inside was a black dress – long sleeves, sequins, above the knee. Pinned to it was a note:

Something as beautiful as you are talented. Go kick some ass, pussyfart! We’re rooting for you. Love you xx

Underneath the note was a photo of Roy and HBM, wearing Adore Delano t-shirts.

And it made Danny cry all over again.

—

#fucking awful #say you won't let go #biadore #bianca del rio #adore delano #rpdr fanfiction #submission #sywlg #canon compliant

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