#reveal they don’t know who the gorillaz man is and barely know who the gorillaz are

[whiskeyswifty]

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[wincestisasincest]

Murder in the Blue Morgue -- Part 1

YESSS!

LET’S

GET

SOME

2D DADFIC

Okay, so I’ve noticed that, at least in terms of long-form fanfiction, there’s really not much on 2D being a dad or having kids, especially if you take away the addition of a reader-insert or OC significant other. I find this a little odd, because it’s sOrTa canon that 2D has a couple kids here or there (I say sorta because the email could’ve also been a scam, especially considering how little coverage there was on it in the lore, but screw it, I like the idea and it’s not impossible to believe so we’re doin’ this), and this seems to be a vaguely popular genre with Murdoc, so why not?

Also, this one sorta exists in a weird, out of time Gorillaz universe. All the members are the ages that they are now, Murdoc is there, but no Ace, and it takes place at Kong Studios for the first part, because I forgot how settings work and had already written that part. It’s not that important to the story anyway, I promise.

So, without further a due, let’s get started. Y E E T.

*****

It was exactly the kind of place where she expected a long-lost father to live. You’d figure someone who didn’t want to interact with the kids in his life wouldn’t pick a place with a demeanor that was inviting, and lost-fathers in general have a mysterious, albeit deadbeat vibe. And with that, plus the aesthetic of the band that was impossible to avoid all combined in a perfect storm that could even make someone as determined as she was on edge. And perhaps that was the point, she wondered. Fantastic. The logical part of her mind was smacking her upside the head with reminders that she had nothing to be worried about. She was making a perfectly reasonable request, and it’s not like she would be catching him off guard or anything. It would definitely be something that he could afford, and, if he wasn’t convinced, she did have a few persuasion techniques up her sleeve. And, of course, worst case scenario is that she got declined and asked to leave. Nothing to terrible would happen to her, even in a place like this. After all the band did have a public image to uphold. She would be fine. She took a deep breath, and pressed the button near the door that she assumed to be the doorbell. The black and white screen above her buzzed to life, with the visage of a large, dominating black man meeting her. Him being completely bald and lacking pupils did not put her at ease, even if she did know who he was. “Yeah, what are ya here fo’?” Of course, he didn’t mean to be terrifying, and she could understand that, with all the trouble that the band must get, they would need to be a little harsh with who they let enter Kong Studios. “Um… I’m looking for… Stuart Pot?” The name sounded awkward on her tongue, and who she knew to be Russel could definitely sense it as well. Even though she had had to put up with the name for five years now, it wasn’t exactly the kind of thing that was discussed in the house, and, due to his persona, it especially wasn’t discussed in the context of issues that a normal person would have. “What business could you have with Stu?” While she didn’t know if he intended to be rude or not, the judgement practically penetrated the screen. “I, uh… it’s something financial?” “What?” “It’s something financial, he owes some people money, and-“ “Are you sure about that?” “Yeah, I’m very sure, I,” she could see his resolve to abandon this conversation wipe across his face, “Wait, please don’t go, I… I’m his kid.” “I beg your pardon?” At least she had gotten his attention. “I’m, uh, I’m his kid. He pays, or he should be paying, child support to my mom. And I have something I need to discuss with him. I brought proof.” She flashed the paper with the results of the DNA scan in front of the camera. “Okay.” Was all he said before his face blinked from the screen. She could hear steps from within the building. She took another deep breath. First interaction with this foreign group, and here she was, admitting one of the facts that she always tried to dodge in conversations. Of course, she couldn’t expect to hide anything from his band, but she, at least, wanted to try and see Stuart first, before other member interactions came up. “What’s your name, kid?” The door opened to reveal Russel again, looking down at her, the pinnacle of skepticism. “Uh, Josephine. But people call me Jo.” She shuffled her feet, not knowing if this was an invitation to come in, or perhaps more questions to see if she would slip up eventually. “Why isn’t your mom here instead, Jo?” Crap. “She doesn’t really have a lot of free time, and I’m old enough to be out on my own, so,” the gatekeeper raised an eyebrow, “I mean, it’s about me, so yeah. I’m here.” “And you’re SURE that you’ve got the right place?” He was starting to give in. “Absolutely positive.” Possibly the first sentence that she had without sounding like she knew what she was talking about. Russel sighed and held the door opening, allowing her entry into the elusive building. She took a moment to look around, everything oozing the popular image of Gorillaz. Pictures were sparse, but the way that it was decorated, you just couldn’t match it anyone other than a group that makes alternative music and has a penchant for a more abnormal side of life. “He’s not here right now, but he’s supposed to be back in a couple minutes. You can wait in the kitchen.” She followed him down a hallway as he continued to speak to her. It was impossible not to gawk at the odd idiosyncrasies of the house, the likes of which, even in normal rich people housing, she hadn’t come in contact with before. This was going to be an interesting meeting. They finally reached the kitchen, which reeked of college dorm life, despite the fact that most of the band members were in their forties. The sinks were stacked high with dirty dishes, with a smell wafting upward into the dingy light fixtures that had been around way longer than this building had. The fridge had been subject to so much usage that it looked like one of the after pictures in those before and after drugs ad campaigns. The floor and the rug under the rickety kitchen table gave a visual history of what had gone down in the kitchen, with obvious spills and stains, some food and some possibly not, that one had bothered to clean up. And the trash, though it wasn’t visible, sat, a quiet terror, by itself in the corner of the room, with flies hovering around it. “Okay, I’m pretty busy at the moment with something, but I’m not gonna leave you alone or anything. NOODLE!!” He yelled outside the door and up the stairway. Jo could feel her shoulders get less tense, as she knew who Noodle was, and already much preferred her company to Russel’s, even if she had never met. Not that she was that scared of any of the members, except perhaps Murdoc Niccals, whom she was hoping to avoid as much as possible, but Noodle was close to her in age, apparently, and seemed to have a general happy, kind, comforting, and fun-to-be-around disposition. The young Japanese woman entered the room, carrying a sense of ease with her. She scanned the room tentatively, swiftly locking her eyes on the out-of-place person awkwardly hovering near one of the chairs. “Who’s this?” She didn’t break her gaze to look at Russel. “This is Josephine, 2D’s kid, apparently. Look, I’d love to stick around and chat, but I need to finish work on that bear before it completely rots. Good luck, Jo.” “Nice meeting you…” Her voice faded out as he continued to walk down the hall not waiting for an answer. “Oh, that’s Russ. More concerned with taxidermy than with the family lives of the band. Anyway, I’m Noodle, nice to meet you!” She stuck out her hand, which Jo shook, with the same uncomfortableness that she had in all her interactions thus far. “Well, 2D isn’t here yet, but he should be back soon. Take a seat, I’ll get you something to drink,” she peered through the contents of the fridge, “Are you a fan of orange soda?” “Sure.” With noticeable deftness, Noodle placed a bottle of Fanta in front of her, pulling out Japanese soda for herself. “So,” she removed the bottle cap with her bare hands while Jo held in her shock, “You’re D’s kid?” “Uh, yeah,” Jo weakly screwed off the cap to her own drink, feeling a tad more terrified, “My mom is Kathleen Powell.” “How old are you?” She felt a tad like she was being interrogated, but at the same time, she was just glad to be in the house.” “I’m 15. 15 years. I was born in 2003.” “Where are you from?” “Uh, New Jersey. Lived there my whole life. I live pretty close to New York City, though.” “Why ARE you here?” “Um, I need to discuss something financial with Stuart,” Noodle subtly cringed at the use of his proper name, “I know, it’s more of a mom thing, but she doesn’t really have a lot of free time now, and she didn’t get off on the best note with Stuart, so I figured I would try.” “Does she know you’re here?” Jo was almost sure that Noodle was onto her at this point. “Yeah, of course.” Jo swallowed. Lying was hard. Noodle looked unconvinced. “Well, kid, relax!” Her face melted into a smile as she took a swig of her drink. Jo realized that she hadn’t touched her orange soda, and, not wanting to seem ungrateful, copied Noodle. “You seem nervous, but I promise, ‘D is a really nice guy. I’m sure he’ll be glad to talk to you.” Jo didn’t know her well enough to distinguish honesty from optimism, but either option would’ve done nothing to quell her nerves. “Are you sure, I mean,” Crap. She knew she shouldn’t be discussing this with what were essentially strangers, “I dunno, just like, his kid that he’s never seen shows up? Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t’ve asked that, it’s just-“ “It’s okay. Calm down, kid,” she looked her in the eyes again, this time somewhat less intimidating, even comforting, “As someone who has known him for a long time, you’ll be fine. It might even be nice. And even if it turns out bad,” she smiled again, “I’ll be nice.” “Heh, thanks. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” Noodle chuckled. “With Murdoc at the door, maybe not, but Russ would never turn a teenager claiming to be ‘D’s daughter out onto the street. Why did you show up in person, anyway? I’m sure you could’ve emailed.” “Well, mom’s not exactly liberal with his email, and it would’ve been really slow. It’s kinda urgent, I guess, which is why I showed up in person.” “I see.” Noodle took another swig, and Jo once again copied. “Anyway, let’s talk about you. I’m curious what ‘D’s kids are like. Do you listen to Gorillaz?” “Well, I was sort of getting into them when I was little, but my mom told me, who, uh, who my dad was when I was 11, and since then, it was kinda awkward listening to the music, so not really. But I have friends that play it sometimes, and I think it’s good.” “How so?” “Well, I like how it doesn’t really have a genre, ya know? Like maybe you could call it alternative, but honestly, it just does its own thing. And it’s always a really nice retreat from mainstream music, and, if my interpretation is right, it even criticizes mainstream music sometimes. It’s just so different, I guess.” “Hmmm,” Noodle closed her eyes pensively, “I like you already.” Her eyes slowly opened again, and it was the first time that Jo had felt truly relaxed in this strange building. “And who’s this?” The voice came from a lanky man with spiky blue hair, a gap tooth, and black voids where his eyes should be. Or, as Jo called him, her genetic father. Leaning against the doorway, in front of her. So much for being at ease.

*****

And chapter one comes to an overly-dramatic end!

Please comment! I love it when people interact with my writing.

Tune in next time for an actual interaction with blue boy himself!

[admin-cock-creations]

Effect of Eternity: DAY 1

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Fandom: Gorillaz Pairing: Murdoc Niccals/You Length: 1,886 words Warnings: N/A Other Locations: AO3 || Wattpad

The screeching of your alarm clock pulled you out of a peaceful slumber, the loud noise not startling you in the slightest at you slowly opened your eyes and reached over to silence it. You sighed harshly through your nose as you moved to sit on the side of your bed, your toes curling and uncurling slowly. You blinked tiredly and stretched a few times before standing up fully, giving a loud yawn as you walked over to your windows. Gripping the satin curtains, you harshly ripped them open, revealing the realm beneath your penthouse apartment. The light blinded you for a moment so you turned to head into the kitchen, your coffee pot already sputtering as the last of your morning brew finished trickling out. Grabbing a cup of joe and returning to your window, you waved your hand lazily and one of your nearby chairs flew towards you, coming to a stop as you moved to sit down in front of the open window. A snap of your fingers and the daily paper was in your grip and your beloved slippers were on your feet.

You spent a good hour sitting there, sipping your coffee and working on your morning crossword in front of the large window. Every so often you’d hold out your cup to the side, and as if some invisible butler were there beside you, more of your precious brew refilled the mug. Once finished, you looked over your crossword once more, making sure everything was correct before holding the paper in your open hand, the item disappearing as a harsh flame consumed it in a second. You stood with a grunt, clutching your still warm cup as you got closer to the window. You sipped at the last of your drink before dropping your now empty cup to the side, your sharp ears catching the soft clink of ceramic as it dropped into the kitchen sink. As your gaze focused outside the window your tail twitched slowly, unconsciously, as if you had an unsensed cramp or itch. Speaking of itches, the base of your left horn was suddenly tingling rather uncomfortably, and you quickly raised a clawed hand to soothe the sensation. Standing at the window always made you feel strange, perhaps because you were in the high-class apartment complex near Elysium. Those virtuous, do-gooding, souls always made you anxious. However, you couldn’t deny the view was astounding. You stared out across the lake towards the Isle of the Blest for a moment longer until a small beeping alerted you, making you turn your head towards the sound. A wave of your hand and the object, your wristwatch, appeared in your palm, the alarm signaling it was time for you to be leaving. Without time to dress normally, you quickly snapped your fingers and were clad in your work attire, taking a moment to snap on your wristwatch before heading out the door and to the elevator. On the way down, you stopped at an extra floor, an elderly woman stepping in with you, a basket of orchids in her grip. “Good morning, Mrs. Deschamps. Heading upstairs today?” The older woman smiled, patting you on the arm with a soft laugh. “You know me so well, dear. I see you’re off to work, as well.” You nodded, adjusting your cufflinks as Mrs. Deschamps plucked one of the shorter stemmed orchids from her basket and urged you to lean down so she could place it in your chest pocket. The elevator dinged as the two of you reached the ground floor, allowing yourself the time to walk your neighbor out of the building. “Keep everyone in line, deary.” “I always do, Mrs. Deschamps.” “I know, and you manage it so well, too.” You smiled as she gave your arm another pat, waving her goodbye as you headed up the street towards a large building. As you approached the building with long, smooth steps, everyone else of the street parted in front of you like a hot knife slicing through butter, as if they were afraid of or intimidated by you. You couldn’t pay them too much attention, however, as you had a job to get to, as most of them did, as well. Jogging briskly up the front steps, you nodded to the man who rushed back to hold open the front door for you, his posture stiffening as you walked by. Your perfectly polished shoes clicked against the swirling marble floor, a few murmurs and sounds of paperwork being rustled the only thing breaking the otherwise silent room. A few people greeted you, giving a simple “Morning” while others straightened up and gave you a more formal “Good morning, Sin”, but you nodded in acknowledgment either way. As you neared the receptionists' desk and the rear elevators, the man behind the counter paused in his flawless typing pace to turn your way. “Sin, Madam S. would like to see you in her office.” You rolled her eyes, chuckling dully as you stopped and straightened out your tie while waiting for the elevator. “She always does, Jeeves. She always does.” The elevator finally arrived, a few people scurrying out quickly when they saw you but one or two shoving themselves in the corner as you entered. You stepped in without a word, pressing the button for the top floor and standing in the center of the small space, your arms folded behind your back. The elevator stopped about a quarter of the way up, the two other people squeezing around you to get out before bolting down the hallway, making you smirk as the doors closed in front of you again. When you finally reached the top floor, you made sure your suit was prim and proper before stepping out into the long, dark hallway. Giant paintings from various eras hung on the walls, the walls painted a deep shade of crimson while the floor was carpeted with a pure, plush black. The only sound emanating the area was from the large desks, each positioned on the left and right sides of the grand doors at the end of the hallway. At each of the desks sat a younger woman, one more focused on her work while the other glared up at you, her typing pace slowing a bit as you neared. You caught her gaze and stopped just in front of the doors, noticing both of them had frozen in time as you stared at the woman on the left. Her glare wavered a bit as you raised an eyebrow, not affected by the evil in her eyes one bit. “Something wrong, Ms. Rolvsson? You don’t look well.” The sickly sweet tone in your voice made the woman shrink back in her seat, swallowing nervously as you leaned forward slightly. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, making the woman lose her edge and evil glare. “N-not at all, Sin. I’m fit as a fiddle.” With that, your small smile stretched into a full grin, your sharpened teeth gleaming in the dark hall. Ms. Rolvsson swallowed again, more audibly this time as her shaking hands returned to her work. “How lovely to hear. I’d hate for you to have to be working when you’re ill.” You turned to face the door again, giving a sideways glance towards the woman on the right as you unfolded your arms to rest them at your sides. “Good morning, Mrs. Newman.” The smaller woman jumped a bit, tucking away a strand of hair as you moved to open the large doors. “Good m-morning, Sin!” You barely heard her as you entered the expansive office behind the doors, striding towards the massive desk the sat in front of the wall of windows. You didn’t bother announcing yourself as you sat in one of the plush chairs in front of the desk, tossing one leg over the other and beginning to pick at your claws. Wordlessly, the large chair behind the desk turned from facing the window, revealing the large figure of Satan herself, a thin pair of glasses resting on her nose as she furrowed her thinned brows at the newspaper in her hand. “Sin, what’s a 12 letter synonym for lustful that contains the word-” “Concupiscent.” You didn’t hesitate with the answer, having already solved the morning crossword. Satan adjusted her glasses, tapping her pen against the paper as she filled in the word mentally before nodding and writing it down. “Thank you, Sin. I’ve been fighting with that one all morning.” You looked up at the woman from under your eyelashes, pausing in your claw picking to raise a brow at her. “I trust you didn’t call me up here just for assistance on the crossword.” Satan placed down her newspaper and pen, neatly folding her glasses and tucking them in her shirt pocket before clasping her hands together and looking at you. “Alright then, I’ll get straight to the point. I’m going on vacation for a few years, maybe a decade depending on how things go with the host, but a year or two at the very least.” You nodded, understanding the point of the conversation. “I can tell you already know what I’m about to say, so I’ll just tell you that you’re in charge starting tomorrow morning. No need to show up early, unless someone wants a personal appearance this place basically runs itself.” “No special errands to run or anything like that? Because last time you forgot to mention you had that trial and everything and I had to go take care of that last minute…” “And you did perfectly! I really did forget to congratulate you on how that ended, quite splendid, really. Made the front page and everything. But no, there’s nothing important you need to do this time. Just sit in the chair and let business flow.” You nodded once more, standing from your chair and dusting yourself off before folding your arms behind your back again. Satan stood, rising several feet above you and reached out her hand, shaking yours firmly with a friendly, yet terrifying grin. “Well that takes care of all my business today, suppose I’ll have a drink to start the vacation early. Care to join me, Sin?” “No thank you, ma’am. Had a bit too much the night before, the light still hurts my eyes today. Guess I’ve still got a sour look too based on how everyone’s been glaring at me today.” Satan laughed as she walked out from behind her desk, cloven hooves tapping softly on the floor and large tail sweeping about her as she clapped you on the back. “They always glare at you like that, Sin, you just happen to notice it when you’re hungover. Nonetheless, take the day off. Wouldn’t want my best demon feeling sub-par during work.” With a pleased grin, you excused yourself from Satan’s office, walking proudly down the hallway and back into the elevator, letting the doors close before you teleported yourself back to your apartment in a flash of emerald fire. With a final sigh of relief, you were back in your most comfortable pajamas and falling into your bed, letting the world around you blur and darken as you drifted back to sleep.