#gorrilaz

[hugerottmntkick]

Truth though

Couldn’t stop laughing when I saw this

[kulturegroupie]

[carcrashbaby]

Damon Albarn Interview (1996)

[valkierrie]

𝙿𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): Swearing.

Plot: After the purchase of a new polaroid, Damon and Y/N can't get enough of snapping pictures of one another.

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: Hope the person that requested this enjoys it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was meant to be a minor purchase.  

Damon had begged me to stop at a small store, he wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just wanted a look around. I wasn’t in the mood, but how could I say no when Damon’s blue eyes gave way for that look, the one he gave me whenever he wanted something, the kind a child gave their parent when they wanted sweets or a new toy.  

The store was small and barely lit. It was cramped, looked quite run-down, like a place that hadn’t been cared for, for years. A small black polaroid caught Damon’s eyes at once, I could tell by the way they lit up. It was such a small thing, the colour was slowly getting lighter, and it looked a bit worn out, like it was definitely used. I couldn’t possibly understand what he saw in it, but I wasn’t too surprised. Damon had a knack for seeing things in the unusual. Whatever those ‘things’ may be. 

“Just this, please.” Damon flashed a charming smile at the cashier, a short woman who clearly hadn’t been having the best of days. 

She rang us up, the small thing didn’t cost much, just a few quids. Damon held the camera in his hand as we left the store. There was a boyish grin on his face, the type that made it almost fucking impossible not to smile back. It hadn’t even been a minute after we stepped out when Damon was ready to put his new toy to use. He moved the polaroid up to eye level, jogging backwards. The lens were pointed towards me. 

“Move a bit left...” Damon gestured, flapping his hands side-to-side towards his left. “No, your other left .” His gestures were as confusing as his directions were vague. He waved his hands excitedly, like orchestral conductor. 

“Not now, Damon,” I shivered, my voice waivered slightly under the dropped temperature. The parka and beanie I wore did extraordinarily little to keep out the cold. 

Damon moved the camera down a bit, a small frown on his face. He stuck out his rosy lower lip. “C’mon, love, just one picture.” He pleaded, his Essex accent being exaggerated and stretched out for optimal effect. “It’ll be quick.” 

With a sigh, and an eye roll, I complied. Damon pout morphed into a victorious grin. 

“Move near that tree over there.” Damon pointed towards a small isolated leafless tree towards the end of the sidewalk, opposite from the road.  

I moved towards it. Damon followed, still staying a few feet behind. I crossed my arms, letting my upper body lean towards the tree. 

Damon moved the polaroid back to eye level. “Give us a smile, then.” 

I gave him a tight-lipped one, to which he responded with a chuckle. “That works too.” 

With a click, the camera flashed, a small photo slid out of the slot. Damon shook the developing film. A fond smile played at his lips as he stared at the photo. 

“Oi, don’t hog it, let me see.” I moved towards Damon, standing beside him to take a look at the picture. I had to admit, it looked nice. 

That was only the beginning of Damon’s stint with the polaroid. After that day, Damon had been attached to the hip with that camera. Our small, shared flat became the setting of a photoshoot, minus all the carefully elaborate settings. The only settings Damon’s photos had, were those of a messy living room with Damon’s socks strewn all over as well as a kitchen with that was always full of dishes.  

Strangely, one morning, Damon was still in bed. It was half past nine, usually he was the one waking me up, with a soft shake or a jolt—it was a 50-50 chance. 

I sat in the living room, tinkering about with the small device, trying to figure why it had captured my boyfriend’s attention. In the process, I had accidentally captured some unflattering photos of myself. I placed the developed film to the side, hoping the throw them out later without Damon knowing that I had wasted them. It took only a few minutes for me to get the hand of it. I smiled as I brought the camera to eye level, snapping shots of random things in the home. The small vase beside the window, the old television, or some shoes. I had to admit, it was fun. I went into the kitchen and took pictures of the cupboards and food left haphazardly on the counters.  

I was about to take another one, but the sound of a door opening and closing interrupted me. Had to be Damon.  

Sure enough, he emerged from the bedroom, in his light blue boxer briefs, it was cute, it went with his eyes. His light hair stuck out in all directions; his expression a tired one as scratched the small hair on his stomach. He exuded a loud yawn from his mouth, making no effort to cover it. 

“Mornin’, babe.” I greeted, an amused smile playing at my lips as I drank his visual in. 

Damon muttered something I assumed was meant to be some form of a greeting, but it was too laced with fatigue for one to be able to tell. It took a short stride for him to enter the kitchen, he placed a lazy kiss on my forehead before reaching high in the cupboard for a cup.  

“Why are you up so early?” 

“It’s not early, Damon, it’s almost ten.” 

“Same thing.” He grumbled. 

He placed the kettle on the stove and leaned against the granite countertop, tea cup still in hand. He looked beautiful, majestic even. It was done so effortlessly. I couldn’t comprehend it, even in his messiest state, he looked gorgeous. The way the light that poured in from the blinds illuminated his figure, it made him look angelic.  

I couldn’t help myself. I lifted the camera up to eye level. Damon’s brows furrowed, confusion overtaking his tired expression. 

With a click, the camera shuttered, it’s flash going off. The film slipped out of the slot. I shook it until it developed.  

“You takin’ photos now?” Damon teased. 

“I had a good shot.” I shrugged. 

Damon shook his head, placing the cup on the counter. Having nothing left to do in the kitchen, I wandered back to the living room, Damon trailing close behind. I settled on the sofa, he followed after, wrapping his arms around my waist, while his chin rested on the crook of my shoulder. His touch sent small, gentle warmth spreading through me, settling in my chest. I loved moments like these. They were rare with our busy schedules, but when they happened, they were truly moments I was grateful for. Smiling down at him, I picked up the camera. I wasn’t sure how I was going to capture this moment, but it was worth a try. I turned the lens towards us, with another click, the camera’s flash went off, making me blink rapidly. I shook the film, watching as the photo slowly developed. It was blurred, moreover, Damon and I were barely in the frame. It was expected. Damon chuckled when I showed him the photo.  

“In the future, you reckon they’d make it easier to take photos like these?” Damon pondered, examining the photo. 

I shrugged, “Who knows,” I placed the camera down on the coffee table. I adjusted my position, pulling Damon closer, putting my arms around him, “and who cares.” 

Damon pulled my face down, our lips meeting with a romantic and soft touch. When our lips touched, I was reminded just how much the soft, quiet moments meant to me. 

“I love you, Damon.” 

“I love you too.” 

[leaawrites]

She's the one I'm running with

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: when everything falls apart, at least they still have each other.

Warnings: the press, fluff, maybe messed up timeline and behavior

Wordcount: 1.2k

Masterlist

“Do you ever wanna run away?”

A simple question as that had started it all, well maybe not everything. The press was there first, as always. Whether it be in front of a restaurant they were eating at one night or outside the studio whenever the band recorded a new album. They were there to take pictures of every situation, hoping to capture just the slightest glimpse of unintentional imperfection. Something more raw than laughter on a TV show or dumb comments in an interview or on stage. They wanted the real faces of every celebrity and they’d do anything to capture just the right moment for a new headline. They’d write anything to have their name printed as a footnote under the newest headline.

‘Damon Albarn, cheating on long-time girlfriend? Is there trouble in Paradise for the power couple of Britpop?’

Everything was a question and over the top. Everything was what it was never meant to be. A bloated stomach was a pregnancy and a new ring was an engagement or secret wedding. Everything one did, when it was seen by the public, was a form of violation. Whether it be against the fans or the own closest circle, someone always had to be hurt. Something always had to be dramatized.

The newest of them all finally drew the line for Damon, it made him ask that one specific question.

“In what sense?” she’d asked, playing with the sleeve of his grey shirt and looking up at him from her position on his chest.

“Just go,” he answered with his hands tangled in her hair. “Let’s just pack our stuff and go somewhere quiet. Without all the cars and people, just us.”

“OK.”

And that’s what they did the next morning. Damon called the band, saying that he needed some time off and that he wouldn’t be available for the next three weeks or so. Let’s say, they weren’t all too happy with his call. Y/n asked for the holiday she’d been putting off and her extra hours, before starting to pack their bags. Not too much, not too little. They wouldn’t be doing much, she knew that. He hadn’t actually told her what he’d planned for them, but she was willing to follow him anywhere.

She was sure of that at last, when she climbed into the car and looked over at him. His face highlighted by the golden sunlight that was still rising above the buildings, catching all the little details and making him stand out for her like he did the first time she’d seen him.

Taking out the film camera that was hidden in her bag just in case, she captured the moment, hoping it’d come out alright and good enough for her to put it into the box with all the others she’d been collecting over the past two years.

At the sound of the shutter going off, Damon turned to her with a slightly playful grin on his face. He hated the pictures others took, but hers, he loved them. He’d let her follow him with a whole film crew if it meant that he got so see the smile spreading across her face whenever looking at him or the video she took, the photos she gave him at every end of the year since they met in college and became close friends. At first it were mostly of the band at rehearsals, where she’d been invited to by him in particular, or at gigs, where Damon invited her as well to, but over time and as the friendship blossomed to something more than light banter and occasional flirting, the pictures of him became more too until they filled the whole album. He’d look at them on nights when he couldn’t sleep or was feeling lost for inspiration and read through the small notes or poems on the side of every page with a smile on his lips - he still did that - wishing that her words were only meant for him and no one else in the band, until they were.

And now she was his and he was hers just as much, a dream come true.

“What?” Y/n asked, looking at him with knitted eyebrows and an unsure look on her face, like she waited for the hour long speech about pictures once again.

“Nothing,” Damon simply shrugged, starting to tap his finger to the beat on the steering wheel and looking at the road ahead. “Your smile is just absolutely beautiful.”

The drive to their destination was an hour and a half, all in which they were talking or singing or sitting in silence, solely enjoying the other’s presence with them. Stopping the car, Damon looked from the little cottage he’d rented over to the girl in his passenger seat, asleep. He couldn’t just wake her now, could he? Deciding on the easiest way to get her into the warmth of the house, Damon went over to her side of the car and picked her up, carrying her inside.

Opening her eyes, Y/n was greeted by the fireplace burning in front of her, her body slumped against the cushion of the sofa and Damon nowhere in sight. Sitting up, she looked around the little space out of wood until her eyes landed on the figure standing in the kitchen, staring puzzled down between a small piece of paper and the pot boiling in front of him.

Not noticing his girlfriend waking up, Damon almost let out a scream as he felt a pair of arms wrapping themselves around his chest and a head nuzzling itself into his back, inhaling the scent of his shirt. Looking down at the hands clasped around his middle he smiled, recognizing the ring. The one, whose meaning the press weren’t wrong about.

“Hello, love. Slept well?” He asked, continuing to try and cook the pasta like it was scribbled down on the little paper by her mother.

“Yeah,” she answered, not moving.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

“If it tastes good,” she teased.

“My food always tastes good,” Damon argued back, looking over his shoulder to see her stifle against his back and shaking his head at her behavior.

“It’s not even that bad,” she complimented as she tried the first bite, her nodding in approval as she was still chewing.

“Thank you, chef,” he answered with the same attitude she had been talking with earlier.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about something,” Damon said into the middle of silence, blowing out the smoke of his cigarette, before handing it over to her.

“About what?”

No matter how much people might deny the fact that she was supportive of her boyfriend and complain about how little times she was seen at gigs or festivals, she truly cared about everything going on in his mind and how he chose to express it.

“A new band,” he answered, making her turn her head in his direction.

“What about blur? Don’t you wanna try and keep that up? I mean, you’re so popular.”

“I wanna try something new, you know?” She nodded in understanding, aware of the fact that he’d been trying out different styles for quite some time now. “Blur is good and all that, but I believe there’s more in my creativity than ‘Britpop’. Do you remember that guy Graham was obsessed with, Jamie Hewlett or some? He’s the comic artist and we’ve talked about music as such these days and all that. What do you think of a band made out of comic characters?”

“What?” The idea sounded absurd, unimaginable even. With all those people around that were catching on fame, all those real people everyone liked to talk about when life got too boring for them, how would a group of fictional characters fit in there? Though, the more she thought about it, the more it intrigued her. An real fictional band in a world so unreal. It made sense of some sorts.

“Tell me more.”

“We have some vague ideas as of now, nothing solid though.”

That’s how they spent the next few weeks, talking and brainstorming ideas, sometimes with Jamie on the phone. Falling asleep between scribbled notes or with an open song file lulling them to sleep. It wasn’t their ideal idea of a holiday activity, but at least they got to do something just for them for a little while. It would be available to the public in time, but at least now, nobody could ask them about it.

It was just theirs.

Their little world to hide away from reality in. The one they could run away together to.

[evangelionshitposting]

[drizzledrawings]

I love that every year I remember that Gorillaz exist and have a passion for life again

[throatofdelusion12]

choose

[cartasde]

♡

[sweetstarart]

2 digital pics, one day! When does that ever happen!

[duckwithadream]

Happy Valentines day!! <3

[valrozwell]

Soooooooooo... I had to do it That was my first thought when I saw them

(And from Leo in a wig I have vibes of Jareth the Goblin King from the Labyrinth........... Tell me that I'm not alone plz)

[carcrashbaby]

Pulp Common People Comic (1996)

Comic by Jamie Hewlett

[valkierrie]

𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐧

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warning(s): None.

Plot: It's Damon's birthday and Y/N makes him feel special.

Word count: 1.1K

A/N: I'm a little late to the party, but it's a special happy birthday post for Damon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as the first sliver of light slipped through the worn-out blue shutters, I was already up.

I did my best to shuffle out of Damon’s grasp. Lifting his hand, which had been draped over my waist in a possessive manner. It was as if holding onto me kept him tied to reality even as he was off in dreamland—like he couldn’t be apart from me.

It was sweet.

Really.

He was the type of lover who’d never keep anything from me, always expressed what was going on in that beautiful mind of his, but it was also the little things that had me weak at the knees. The way his hands would instinctively grasp mine whenever we were out and about; or when his jacket found itself draped over my shoulders if I so much as shivered near him. Small things—and yet, it only made my love for him that much stronger.

I smiled down at his sleeping stature, pressing a soft kiss on his forehead.

He deserved this.

I crept into the kitchen, making sure the wooden floors didn’t creak.

I opened the cabinets, bringing out all the ingredients and materials I needed. Placing a pan on the stove, I turned it on. I whisked the ingredients together until the batter was smooth against the whisk, then poured it into the heated pan. I watched as it sizzled and formed small bubbles. One by one, I flipped them until the buttermilk batter was golden.

The process was repeated until I had four to five hot pancakes on a plate.

Placing the plate of pancakes on a silver tray, I grabbed a glass cup, pouring an orange juice three-fourths of the cup.

I picked up the tray, ready to go back into the bedroom and present Damon with breakfast in bed. In my excitement, I forgot one of the most important parts. Syrup.

I grabbed a bottle of maple syrup from the pantry,  pouring webs of syrups all over the pancakes.

Satisfied, I picked up the tray and left for the bedroom.

Damon was still very much sprawled out on the mattress, snoring without a care in the world. I placed the tray on the nightstand, beside Damon’s side of the bed. I gently shook him awake. 

Damon stirred, omitting a low and tired groan. 

“Damon, c’mon, wake up.”

Damon cracked open an eye and groaned, staring right at me. “What’s the fuss for? S’too early.” he muttered.

“Get up.”

“No. Gimme five minutes—no, an hour.” He turned his head away. 

I shoved him, pinching his arm. 

“Oi!” He gasped, “Alright. Alright, I’m getting up.” He sat up, his bare back pressing against the headboard as he rubbed his face. 

His gaze fell onto the food on the nightstand. “Breakfast in bed? What’s the occasion? You poisoning me?”

I gave him a look.

 Damon recognised the look. It was a very unimpressed look, like disappointment. “Oh, uhm—is today an anniversary?”

“No, Damon.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s your birthday, you div.”

“Ah,” he chuckled. “Sorry, it must’ve slipped my mind.”

I shook my head. Of course that was the case. When it came to me, there was never any forgetting from him—except our anniversary, apparently. But, remembering anything about himself was always a challenge.

I picked up the tray, placing it on his lap. “Eat up.” I kissed his cheek.

“Thanks, darling.” Damon smiled. 

He ate up quickly, but still held space for the flavor, savoring it, whilse humming some bits of Coffee and TV. When he finished eating, he was surprised to find that there were more surprises that laid ahead. 

“Breakfast was the bare minimum,” I told him. “I’ve got more in store for you.”

We found ourselves at an ice ring. Something that seemed like a good idea a few weeks ago, but clearly I hadn’t thought things through. We made it work—which meant clinging on to each other and the glass walls as skaters zoomed past us. 

“Look at us,” Damon said, his arm interlocked with mine as he felt around the glass wall. “Reckon we’re getting better, eh?”

“Right.” I deadpanned. 

We were about to make a full clockwise rotation, when suddenly a small girl zoomed past us, causing me to fall and pulling Damon down with me. 

Damon burst into laughter, properly cackling. It was infectious, and for no particular reason I was laughing too.

The small girl looked back, shooting us a judgemental look. 

Perhaps adults with the mental age of toddlers just didn’t appeal to her.

After embarrassing ourselves some more, Damon and I stopped at a small bakery. A French one. 

“Open wide.” I instructed, pointing a fork-stabbed pain-au-choc at Damon.

“This your master plan to fatten me up?”

“Depends,” I smirked. “Is it working?” 

Damon rolled his eyes, leaning forward to eat the pastry, but before his lips could touch the fork, I swerved it away. Damon raised a brow.

“Is that how we’re gonna play?” He asked.

“No.” I giggled. “I’ll stop.”

I allowed him to take the food from the fork, wiping the remnants of chocolate that had stained the corner of his upper lip.

When the evening rolled around, we were back at our flat and I had one more thing in store for today. 

Damon settled on the sofa, knackered. “One more thing? You’re spoilin’ me.”

I shrugged, leaning back to pull open a drawer. I grabbed a small black box I’d tucked in there weeks in advance. With a smile, I handed it to Damon. “Go ahead, open it.”

Damon did so, finding a bracelet. It was made of a variety of colours and materials, beads all around—-almost like the necklace he had around his neck.

“I wanted to get you one that matched your necklace. And—” I picked the bracelet, holding it up, showing the two dangling letters.

“Our initials?”

I nodded. “You like it?”

Damon grinned as he slipped the bracelet onto his wrist. “I love it.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you?”

“‘Course not,” His smile grew wider, looking at me like he couldn’t quite believe that I was there. “Y’know, you’re pretty amazing.” muttering, almost to himself, but I caught it.

I was taken aback by the comment, I hadn’t done anything extraordinary, and yet—with his head propped up by his hand and a lazy smile on his face, he just casually said that; it was as if there was no thought about it, no question.

He pulled me close, locking his lips onto mine. It moved slowly with fervent and passion. He poured his love into it. With the way he was kissing me, he didn’t need to tell me that he loved me. He was showing it to me.

When we pulled back, that look hadn’t disappeared from his face. We didn’t say anything, simply wrapping his arms around his shoulders and nuzzling close.

[leaawrites]

Heyyy,could I maybe request a Damon x reader where Damon feels a bit down and tired ,so the reader comforts him and it’s all sweet it’s Christmas time btw .I love your writing so much!!!!!(some people are really creative in requests I had to dig out my skull to formulate a proper sentence)

Movies

Damon Albarn x fem!reader

Summary: a quiet night, where frustration is eased through christmas movies.

Warnings: fluff, none other

Wordcount: 0.7k

Masterlist

Looking up at the wall from her place on the floor, she rolled her eyes as the same melody began playing again. Groaning in frustration as she heard Damon do the same in the room next door.

They’ve both been busy the whole day, whether it be work or last minute Christmas preparations. Both tired and their minds repeating the same melody over and over again like a broken record.

The melody they both began to hate over time.

“What’s wrong this time?” She asked, leaning against the door frame. Watching him slump in his chair with his hand over his face, shaking his head in answer.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he finally said, turning towards her and stretching out his hand for her to walk over.

Standing in between his legs, her hands found their way into his hair, running her fingers through it and trying to make him relax. It wasn’t the first time that they’d been in this situation. Damon frustrated over a verse, chorus or melody and her ready to calm him down and get a clear head.

“Okay, then don’t talk about it.” Taking his hand in hers, moving them from her thighs, she pulled him up to his feet. Dragging him towards the living room where a tower of wrapped presents were already waiting for him.

“You’re not gonna make me wrap presents, right? Because you know how terrible I am with it.” It was more of a joke, though the fear of the possibility was visible in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’m already finished,” she said, shaking her head in assurance that he didn’t have to do anything.

Sitting down on the sofa, she made him settle down next to her, pressing play on the TV.

“Oh no,” he groaned, rolling his eyes behind closed eye lids, still she could see it. “Do we have to do this?”

“You never watch any movies with me, and when you do, you always fall asleep. So, you’ll watch some Christmas movies with me now,” she insisted, excitement lacing in her tone as the start credits began playing.

“I have this thing-” Damon pointed back to the room where his project was still open, waiting for him and new creativity to make it right.

“The thing you can’t get right? Get your head out of that and at least let me try calm you down. Movies are the best way to shut everything out. Just, watch.” Bumping her elbow with his arm, she raised her eyebrow in suggestion. “I swear, my taste isn’t as bad as you may think it is. Just because I’m younger doesn’t mean I don’t like older things,” she said, winking at him.

A low blush creeping up on his cheeks still. “It’s not that I don’t like your taste in movies, I just don’t like movies as much as you do.”

“Just sit down and try it.”

Reluctantly he settles down next to her, throwing his arm around the head of the sofa and sinking into the cushion. His head already lulling back in wild anticipation.

A low melody began filling the space between them as she settled down and got comfortable next to him. Cuddling into his side and throwing one of her legs over his, which were sitting on the top of the table in front of them.

“If you don’t like it we can turn it off and do something else,” she started talking, overthinking her decision and wondering if it was too much. Was she too persistent in making him watch movies with him?

“Pshh,” he made her go quiet, laying his finger over her mouth to make her shut up. “I’m trying to watch something here.”

Her eyes crinkled as she laughed at his behavior, pressing her face further into his side to stifle her giggles.

“I love you, you know that?” She asked, looking up at him with her head resting on his chest. A bright smile on her face.

“I know,” Damon said, smiling too and leaning down to press a quick kiss on her lips. “I love you too.”

Pulling her closer with his hand around her waist, they focused on the screen in front of them. Letting the scenes play in their order and the story unfold without their input. It wasn’t their story, but it was one to enjoy just as much. The time filled with laughter and reactions of joy and exclamation.

When everything failed to relax, at least movies could make you forget for a few hours.

[notagayman]

Haven't drawn this rat in a while..

(Spooky 2d below)