apocolillaz - Tumblr blog

apocolillaz · 14 days ago

Text

Chapter One

Warnings:

- Overthinking

- Profanity/brief use of a slur

- Alcohol

[Masterpost]

Four years. That's how long it's been since you left that house and what happened in it. You dont even like to think about it.

You've since moved all the way to London (Uhh if you already live here... Um. Like, pretend you didn't). A lot of the music you like is from British/English bands... The Smiths, Led Zeppelin, The Cure, Gorillaz... They're all great. Plus, you honestly just like the feel of it. Or maybe just the glorified version in your head, but... Whatever. You're currently working as a waiter in a restaurant in a rather busy area of town. You've just gotten off work and are on your way out when your co-worker, Daniel, walks up to you quickly. Fuck.

"(Y/N), hey! Did you see that guy at the counter just now? Did you see what happened!?"

He is eager and you just wanna go home and sleep. But you've pretended to care about people for this long, if you suddenly changed now, it would be horrible. Or worse, you'll be bothered even more about it.

"No. I didn't."

"He kept finding ways to say a bunch of bullshit. Like, 'uhh I'll get some fags- uh, fries with that. Huh huh huh.' and, like, talking extremely loudly about gay people and staring at me while they sat at their table."

You pretend to care as Daniel mocks the guy. You really couldn't give a shit.

"And?"

"...What?"

"You're probably never gonna see them again, and even if you do they obviously don't give a shit about you and see you as a thing to make fun of. Why do you care so much what they're saying that may or may not be about you?"

You cross your arms and he does the same. He opens his mouth to speak but you suddenly become filled with a horrible rage and just turn on your heels to leave. You don't care if his rebuttal would be right or wrong. You felt right in the moment and stuck to it.

On the way down the road a short black car zooms past, definitely over the speed limit. You're startled, but you couldn't care enough to yell.

You stop by Gray's house for your shower. Gray is your best friend, since about two years ago. This is because she lets you shower and sometimes sleep at her place if needed. You met at the park once, she was still living with her parents but she was 18 and able to go wherever she wanted, whenever. After a few time meeting up at the same place, she eventually learned you're technically considered a missing person, and since then she'd been helping you out. While she still lives with her parents, she just gave you bags of food each time you'd meet up at the park. Now that she's renting a place herself, well, with one other person... A roommate... She's able to help you better. Maybe... Well. Yes. She is definitely too nice. And sure, maybe you do use that to your advantage at times.

But it's fine.

Because she doesn't care.

In your shower you have the water nice and warm, and use your favorite shampoo which you had bought yourself. Honestly... At this point, little by little it's slowly become apparent that you are basically living here. Gray originally was just letting you shower there, then she let you sleep there a few times without her landlord knowing, and now since you don't have much stuff she just.. keeps your back pack in her closet. It's convenient knowing someone so nice, but you're always alert in case she starts catching on to you slowly becoming more settled in, and kicking you out. Or even the landlord catching you. But... That's a problem for the future.

After your shower, you put on your loose sweatshirt and soft pants, the same ones you wear right before bed every night. And no, Gray doesn't wash them for you. Of course you can do your own laundry, what kind of person do you think you're taken for, a leech? You step out of the bathroom and meet eyes with Samantha, Gray's roommate. She's... Well, ha. Let's not talk about your feelings about Samantha.

"(Y/N)." She looks at you blankly.

"Samantha." You smirk at her, trying not to giggle. Her stern face makes you feel some sort of way. No, not horny, you dirty little bastards. Just funny. Yep.

Samantha glares at you and walks away. She's not mean, and she doesn't hate you. You guys are chill... At times. She's just, uh, stern. You guess. And she critiques everything you do, or always has some sort of comment about it. She kinda reminds you of your mother.

She's also really tall. And she usually wears thin white tank tops with nothing under it. Peak fashion in your opinion, peak design, peak um... Peak... Hah. You laugh to yourself. She hears you and stops to look back at you, but just shakes her head and keeps going. She's also got long straight hair and usually no makeup. And she has such pale skin. And scary blue eyes. And did you mention how tall she is? She's really tall.

You realize how long you've been standing still and staring at the wall when Gray walks past.

"Hey (Y/N)." She says.

"Hey Gray." You wave, pretending you didn't just snap out of a long internal string of thoughts.

Well, it's not like you ever really snap out of it. You're an amazing person, y'know. Your thoughts never stop yet you can hold a conversation even if it's more complex. Even when the second you stop talking your brain keeps analyzing everything but the conversation, you're still so good that you can come up with a response to whatever the other is saying even then. You love reminding yourself how hard you work, and how much of a good job you do all the time.

All jokes aside, these thoughts make for good music. So while you continue your thinking, you head to the closet at the end of the hallway where you keep your songbook, and start writing lyrics. You've been saving up and you're gonna be getting a computer soon, and being 19 means you've been an adult for a year now and you can be on the internet again, fully. You won't get in trouble for being a runaway. You're so excited. Once you get a computer you can start making your music. For now maybe you'll just post videos to YouTube playing your guitar and your bass, some covers and some original shit. You're pretty sure you can do some basic music shit on some kind of free music studio app or whatever... But you'll worry about that when you need to.

Later on, you hear a knock at the door and do the routine: Hide in the shower, which had a mostly opaque curtain so no one could see that you were there. You bet the landlord talking to Gray.

"Hey Grace. Just thought I'd check in... I thought I heard someone come in here when I could've sworn I saw you and Samantha come home recently."

"Yeah, it was my friend. They were picking up some stuff I was meaning to give them, no big deal." Gray knows to ignore when Cole, the landlord, calls her by her birth name. No matter how much correction, he never cares enough to stop. It's whatever though, Gray doesn't really care enough to mention it anymore.

After some chatting, Cole leaves and Gray lets you know you can get out of the bathroom. Your clothes are damn because the inside of the shower was still wet from earlier, but it's fine.

"So uh, (Y/N)... Samantha has been... Really bored lately. And like, miserable. I'm taking her to the bar down the road tonight, wanna come?" Gray asks nonchalantly. She is pretty monotone most of the time so she always sounds that way, and because of this she manages to both ease your awkwardness and make you nervous at once.

Right, the bar. Well, why would you turn that down? You were planning on drinking tonight anyway. Might as well do it with other people.

"Yeah, alright." You nod briefly and go to Gray's room to look through your bag for your nicer clothes, which you'd bought after turning 18 since before then you didn't want to worry as much about standing out or having your type of style. But as an adult you can do whatever the hell you want. You pick out an outfit (your choice what the outfit looks like) and get dressed. You don't care that Gray walks in halfway through, she's your friend. And people don't really get the title of "friend" with you for nothing. She gets dressed as well, in a short jean skirt - and Satan, she loves jean skirts like no one could imagine - and a loose Garfield shirt with the collar part cut off so it goes over her shoulders. She wears a thicker belt than usual, it's a dark brown color with some black, and just some regular converse with some doodles of dicks and other bullshit on them. She went to the bathroom to straighten her hair and you waited for her so you could do your hair. As you waited, you looked through your bag for any accessories to go with your outfit, and once you were satisfied with your look, you sat on the bed.

What's the point of dressing up?

It only ever catches peoples attention very rarely, unless they have something stupid to say about not liking it.

Why do you even try?

Sure, you don't really care what people think of you. Like, for fuck's sake, you openly worship Satan and wear a pentagram like you're proud of it. You'd much rather be totally honest of who you are to anyone you meet, it's much better that way.

But if you have no reason to care what others think, why do you try at all? I mean, sure, it gives you a good feeling, but you're positive it's probably inherently because of society in some way. Fuck, you're starting to sound like one of those "we live in a society" motherfuckers. You hate that word, honestly, just because of how people use it.

Before you could spiral any further, Gray comes back in.

"Your turn." She smiles.

You nod and go to the bathroom. Even when you know it's pointless, nothing can stop you from pursuing this good feeling that dressing up always gives you. Why would you care if none of the reactions are negative? You love negative attention. Especially from more "normal" looking people. You don't understand why people actually get upset over people saying a few words about their outfit. Even if it's every day, constantly, for you it just gives you a boost and a good feeling. But to milk it, you do like to pretend it bothers you. Maybe that's what everyone else does, and everyone around them just thinks theyre the different one.

When you're done with your hair, you come back out to see Gray, since you didn't actually get a good look at her hair. She straightened it, since it's usually more curly, and she put it in two ponytails. She teased them a bit so they're more messy looking, and it looks good honestly.

"You ready to go? We should check on Sam..." She reminds you.

"Right." You mumble, not fully paying attention.

On the way to the bar, which the three of you are walking to, you only half pay attention to anything the two are saying. You're walking behind them and all you can think about is the fact that the two of them seem to be dressed a lot less... Different than you are. You feel like a scary dog being walked by some normal enough looking person. That's probably what it looks like to an outsider. But to be honest, it's Samantha and Gray they should be worried about. You honestly don't care enough about anything unless it gives you entertainment or benefits you, so you're nowhere close to being considered a protector or a "scary dog" kind of thing.

As the three of you walk into the bar, you straight away go to get some drinks. You're honestly just hoping to get as drunk as you can before Gray stops you. Samantha would probably be entertained by your drunk self so she wouldn't stop you. You look around, eyeing all the drunk people socializing, a couple dancing around with their mates but nothing too interesting. Well, that just means more drinks for you. Hopefully that'll make it interesting.

And fucking hell, it did.

You feel like your wishes have been answered just then, because you swear you'd caught a glimpse of a familiar black hair, green tinted smdark-ish skin, and inverted cross that you know all too well.

"No fucking way." Gray said it before you could.

"I was gonna say that." Samantha says, beating you to that phrase as well, so the only option left was one word.

"Ditto." You mutter, now staring at the man. You're 99% sure it was the real Murdoc Niccals, talking to some girls. And when he tilted his head a bit and did the familiar "Hah-haww" laugh he always does, it sealed the deal. You were looking at the real Murdoc Niccals. He is surrounded by people, of any gender really. Gray and Samantha are on their way over already, so you follow reluctantly. The Gorillaz is your favorite band, sure, but even the Murdoc Niccals most likely has a lot to deal with, having all these fans around him. Then again, what's three more? The only thing is, this band is probably the one rare group of people you actually value the opinions of. And you don't wanna risk him having something to say about you. You actually tried while putting this outfit together. Are you trying too hard to be different? Is he gonna say something about your pentagram? He could think you're a wannabe. You know that's not true, but he doesn't. Height think youre only doing it because of him, despite it not being true.

What are you thinking? Murdoc from Gorillaz is here. Fuck, enjoy the damn moment!

When you arrive over there Murdoc doesn't even notice the three of you at first. He's talking to the people closer to the front, which he can see better. He probably caught a glimpse of Samantha, with how tall she is, but other than that the three of you went unnoticed. You watch Murdoc sign shit, take pictures, and even feel up some of the people closer to him which... Alright. I mean, you knew that's what he's like.

You're still just trying to get a good look when you feel a rough push from someone behind you, and you find yourself halfway through the crowd and much closer to the pickle.

Lmao

You look back to see Gray grinning mischievously and growl to yourself. "Satan bless it..." You mutter. You turn back to see that some of the girls had gotten much closer to Murdoc, and a lot of them were clumsily trying to reach over each other to even barely touch the guy. Why'd he come here and not a more private place? There's no way he likes this much attention. I mean, it must be great having fans, real fans, but come on. This has to be exhausting.

But he seems to be enjoying himself...

You're still standing in the crowd and you feel a familiar hand grab your shoulders and push you through.

"Gray!" You shout back at her, but by now she's already disappeared into the crowd again.

You look up to see your face to face with him, who was now eyeing you up. There were a few other people dressed as strangely as you, but his eyes caught onto a certain spot in the center of your chest. You had actually nearly fell onto him, more than once in fact, because of the crowd being so close and packed. You have no idea how Gray managed to get through it, let alone push you through as well.

"'Ello..." You hear him say over the many, many people trying to get his attention. You realize he's talking to you and your heart picks up speed.

"Hey..." You say, trying not to let your voice crack.

After finally working up the courage to get him to take a picture with you, you get the hell out of that crowd and back to safety, away from the actual bar area where Murdoc had been sitting. Now with the more fat away view you could see there were even people crawling on the table to get to Murdoc. You shake your head and laugh softly.

Samantha and Gray managed to find you after awhile and the three of you just sit at a farther away table, drinking and laughing at the other people sitting at tables, hoping to be noticed by Murdoc and acting clueless and twirling their hair. As is he would even be able to turn his head in that crowd. They aren't special. You know you aren't either, but you're just saying.

"EVERYBODY OUT!" Screams a new voice, coming from where the crowd is.

"Oh no, a crazy one?" Wonders Samantha aloud, but as you look over, you see who had said it.

Pushing through the crowd is a bigger man, with a basic t-shirt and pants and some regular shoes, darker skin. He wouldn't stand out much if it weren't for his purely white eyes. That, and the fact that he's literally Russell from Gorillaz. Within seconds he's pulling Murdoc, who is squirming and grumbling, out of the crowd.

You see Russell's mouth move, as if he was muttering something under his breath, but you couldn't tell what it was. Murdoc catches a glimpse of you and tries to pull away from Russel, yelling something sharply. But the man just dragged him out of the bar and probably into his car to go home. You furrow your eyebrows and drink more of your drink, feeling a little embarrassed after both Murdoc and Russel had looked at you. You assumed Murdoc was just being crazy and drunk and trying to make a joke or something, you don't know.

The rest of the time there you just sat there while Samantha and Gray socialized with people. You couldn't stop overthinking every move you made in front of Russell and Murdoc.

"Can we go home?"

This catches Gray's attention first.

"What?"

"I'm not feeling good. We gotta go." You insist.

"But you haven't even had your third screwdr-"

"I'm not up for it, Gray."

"...alright. Sam, c'mon. We need to get (Y/N) home."

"But they-"

"I know." Gray pulls Samantha, who is pretty drunk, a long with her as you walk alongside them. You hate feeling like the boring one. You never are the boring one. Right now you have no choice, though. You just wanna sleep.

#gorillaz #gorillaz russell #russell gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #2d gorillaz #murdoc niccals #gorillaz band #fanfic #murdoc gorillaz #x y/n #(y/n)#satanist #satanic #hail satan #ave satanas

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apocolillaz · 26 days ago

Text

Prologue

Warnings:

- Horrible, horrible nightmare

- Murder

- Gorillaz won't be introduced here lol.

[Masterpost]

Four in the fucking morning. Yikes. You've checked your phone for the fifth time tonight now, after being woken up by yet another loud, slightly prolonged moan. How long can these guys go, I mean come on. It's only been a week and you've already begun to regret your choice of who you're living with right now. Not that you really have the option to leave. You've been planning this for months, you're finally out of that other, more wretched house.

You turn over and set your phone back on the night stand. You stare out your window, not at anything in particular, and just breathe very slowly. You eventually close your eyes, trying to ignore the sharp moans here and there from your adult friend and his... Whatever the hell. You don't even know. You don't care, you just want a break. You drift off into a calm state, your brain wandering around in squiggled, confused directions and random words. Ants. Light switch. Whiskers. Drink. Television. Three foot one. Hands. Glad.

Glad I did it again.

You inhale sharply, your eyes opening against your will. You sigh and reach over to your night stand, turning to look when you don't feel your phone. Your breath hitches and you look around in confusion, your eyes widening when you see it taped to the wall. "What the shit??" You don't feel like you said it, but if you didn't, who else did? It sounded like you. You get up and step towards the wall, the room feeling fuzzy and unstable around you. Things look different, only by a little. Something isn't right. You step closer and reach out to grab the phone, feeling it's solid texture. It all feels real, it must be. You gently pull it off the wall, peeling off the tape after. You turn the phone on and are almost immediately absorbed into it, the screen having a strange pull to it. But it's all normal, it is a screen after all. You begin typing. If you really thought about it, you can't really see what you're typing, but you know your typing what you need to.

Until your thumb hits the phone only to feel the texture of paper.

You do a double take and begin to panic. You're now holding a rectangular paper, about the size of your phone, with a badly colored pitbull drawn on it, its collar on fire, yet it can't move or take it off, frozen on the paper. Its feeling is so disturbing that you can feel your brain rattling and buzzing with frustration, anger, and helplessness. You start to feel the presence of your eyes and your chest, and you become nauseous.

You already know by now that it can't be real, but you can't wake up. You don't remember how. Screaming rattles your brain and all you can see are a mix of color and jagged lines, your skin is melting and your ears and eyes hurt like hell. You hear the growl and you already know it's too late. You know the routine. It happens every. Fucking. Time.

You turn slowly to see the thing you see every time you have this dream. Its fur coat a shiny black color, the texture smooth and glossy. Its eyes showing no white but the single shiny speck from the reflection of the window. Its collar red as always, the little gold oval shaped tag underneath. Its ears perked his still dangling at the sides of its head. It's expression calm but it's teeth still showing. You see no point in running anymore, it always happens. You've never escaped.

You feel frozen. You want to scream and cry and kill yourself before it can get to you. Everything is silent by now, except the snarling that should be coming from the dog, but it feels like it's happening all around you. You fall to your knees and try to cover yourself, but there's no way to cover your back. And that's always where he goes, without fail. You hear the noises get louder again, but he seems calm and calculated as he approaches, probably running as always.

And you feel it.

You feel his teeth scratching your back, not the good kind of scratching. Why the back? Why not your sides? You're not doing a good job covering them anyway. You have no idea. He just always goes there. You feel his teeth against your now bare spine, and aside from the pain, your entire back has a horrible, torturous tickling sensation. Not anything enjoyable. It nearly burns, like when you rub your hand fast against a carpet, right before it starts to produce heat.

You can't wake up. As always, you feel you never will. But you can't make any noise. You can't move. You just want to die already.

The screaming gets louder until you notice that it seems to be more external than everything else. More real. Suddenly, youre laying on your back. The room around you comes slowly back into vision, but the feeling on your back lingers. You're laying in bed again. You breathe heavily, your face hot and your stomach nauseous. You can't move, and the only things lingering are the screaming and the feeling on your back.

As the feeling starts to leave, as it always does, you turn to your side, seeing your phone on your night stand. You rub your eyes and hug your pillow with one arm, grabbing the phone and turning it on briefly. 6:23 am. And they're still going. You set the phone down.

It doesn't sound the same.

It's never sounded like this, actually. Never. The screaming has died down a little but there's still some weird yelling. "Oh my fuck. No." You mutter in disbelief as you force yourself to get up. This is exhausting more than anything. Not that you're used to whatever you're about to witness, but you don't care as much as you think you should. You're probably just too tired to grasp it yet.

You change your underwear and put on a large black hoodie and some long blue jeans. You had to sadly ditch your cooler looking clothes for more boring shit when you left home. You couldn't risk standing out, as much as you with you could. You put your phone and it's charger in your hoodie's pocket, just in case. You then grabbed the pentagram pendant off the night stand and put it on, putting it under your hoodie. You always did this to not risk being approached by a "concerned" Karen who thinks it's their job to fix you.

Finally, after taking your sweet time to avoid what you're about to see, you leave your room. And you wish you hadn't. You immediately meet eyes with Seth, your roommate, the adult friend who had taken you in, dragging the lifeless, naked body of his nightly fuck buddy... Whatever his name is, into the kitchen. Your expression doesn't waver much except for the slight furrow of your brow, and you look from Seth to the body a few times, Seth not moving much. He doesn't seem like a danger to you, even with a dead body in his hands. He still looks like the silly guy you've known for two years now, he looks like he's been caught being clumsy or forgetting something he was supposed to remember. He doesn't look like a killer.

They almost never do.

Not your Seth. He looks the least like one. You panic inside, but on the outside you just raise your eyebrows, give a dismissive hand wave, and go back to your room. You've always been chill with Seth. Everything he's told you, everything you've done together. And you've done a lot. He's always known you as the one who is up for almost anything. You just have to hope that's enough for him to trust you enough not to kill you too.

He wouldn't kill you. Would he? "Satan, please..." You mutter, sitting on your bed. You listen intently as he scrambles around the kitchen. You hear him bagging the body and dragging it back towards the front door. You don't live in a very secluded area, sure, but it's not a city. It's kind of a wide-spread neighborhood, there's enough space between houses. Seth is probably on the way to the woods behind your house, you could easily get out in about fifteen minutes. You set a timer. You know Seth. He's gonna burn it right now, waste no time. What he does with it after, you don't really care.

You run to his room, which is not covered in blood, and step carefully around all the splatter to avoid getting too much on your socks. You hold your jeans up so they don't scrape the floor and collect blood. You make it to the other side of Seth's bed and open the nightstand drawer, moving his clothes and sex toys to the side to find his wallet. You take all the money you can out and shove it in your pocket. $312. You then go through the pants of whoever the stranger was and find their wallet in their back pocket, taking all the money out of there too. $203. He must have been the one spending money before they came home. In total you've collected $515, but you know there's more. You stand on the bed and take a small box from off the shelf above, taking out the $1,342 you'd known was in there. You'd done your fair share of snooping on your very first day here, just in case. $1,857. That's enough, for now. You go back to your room and sit on your bed, staring at the door.

After what felt like hours of sitting there, unable to stop your thoughts while simultaneously not really being able to have a single coherent one, the timer goes off. You turn it off, put your phone back in your pocket, and grab your bag. You keep everything you need in there in case you ever have to up and leave like now, and anything disposable can stay in the room. You don't give a fuck.

You put on your trusty worn out converse, your favorite shoes, and you rush to the kitchen, trying your best to ignore the blood splattered and smeared around on the floor. You open the fridge and grab a couple extra snacks and three water bottles. You set your backpack on the table to shove the items inside, and then rush out the front door, barely even getting the bag back on fully. The bag hangs over one shoulder as you slam the door shut and speed-walk down the driveway. You have no vehicle so you have to walk, but you don't want anyone to see you running.

You keep up your quick, but still kind of normal, pace until you get to the more populated area a little while away from where you live. Not that far, it's just a little ways with a few turns. If you could dig a huge hole from the hill behind your house down to the road behind and below it, you'd get there in about five minutes.

You're back on the run now.

Your phone isn't activated, and it's just a burner, so you have to wait till you find a place that's open this early. You find a gas station pretty quickly, so you sigh with relief as you go into the small building and towards the bathroom. You lock the door and sit on the toilet, texting your friend. The other option.

[Y/N]

Chelsea plz answer asap it's an emergency. I'm gonna need 2 stay with u.

[This user cannot recieve messages at this time.]

Perfect. She blocked you. Just fucking great. You're on your own.

For the next three years, at least, you're on your own.

#gorillaz russell #russell gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #2d gorillaz #murdoc niccals #gorillaz band #gorillaz

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