Hello friends! Man, has it been forever! Especially since my last Gorillaz story. 2008's a long long time ago. I sort of left the fandom after a while, but something dragged me back eventually and here I am. Sorry about not finishing most of the non-oneshots I've started in other fandoms since then. Don't worry about me not finishing this one, though. Every little story's a self-contained thing so it's not like you'll be worrying about what happens next.
Essentially it's a collection of little (very little) stories I've been writing for my RP blog z0mb12d3 on tumblr. That's for context and like, showing I'm not stealing anything, I'm not trying to be all advertisey here. Although if you do want to play he'll talk to anybody, including other versions of himself.
Sorry for the long note, I won't be having too many long notes. Too much longer and it'll be longer than the stories themselves! Anyway! Zombie stuff. Fun. That's what the M rating's for, it gets gruesome occasionally. It's mostly in the second person because I like Homestuck and got into it from RPing Homestuck but there'll probably eventually be first and third person stuff too. I think that's all I need to say.
You're hungry.
You walk out the door and set off in a random direction, knowing you'll find something really quickly. One of fame's many perks is that you can pick up just about anybody, anywhere, no questions asked. They might be after something different from what you're after, but it works for you. It's a little shocking how quickly you've managed to get used to this, but here you are, going out to find food almost like a regular zombie. Except regular zombies usually just bite everybody they can. You don't do that.
You don't notice the woman talking to you at first, but when you do you realize you've been standing there for a while. You sometimes have to make yourself act more human, so you're thankful for the fact that you're usually known for staring vacantly into space. You force the open-mouthed expression of hunger off your face and smile at her. "Hey," you say. Good start. She's kind of skinny, but that's good enough. You need to eat and it's best to get the first person you can. (Not person. Food. You need to stop thinking of them as people.)
You make small talk for a while, trying not to let any groans creep into your end of the conversation. You're pretty sure nothing you're saying makes any sense, but she's hanging on your every word. And then finally she says the magic words: "Let's go to your place!"
That's exactly what you needed to hear. You smile and nod. "Sure." You grab her hand and lead her back to the house as fast as you can go. (You've slowed down a bit since dying and walk with a very slight limp thanks to that leg bite, but you don't go slow enough for people to notice anything's wrong, at least not yet.) You lead the woman up the steps (you don't know her name, you don't want to know her name) and then over to your room. You open the door all gentlemanlike and follow her inside, closing the door behind you.
She takes one look around the room, wrinkles her nose, and looks back at you. "What is all this?"
There's a lot you could say about it. Sure, it's a mess, but you could just say you're not that great at cleaning your room, because you're not. But then again she's more likely talking about the blood everywhere. There's a couple of broken skulls in the corner and-hey, there's still some meat on that pile of bones on the bed. You make a mental note to take care of that later. She says something else and your attention snaps back to her. "Er, it's nothing, really," you say with a slight groan. The subtle sound of her heartbeat combined with her human scent is really getting to you, and finally your instincts decide you've waited long enough and you lunge at her.
The screams are loud and long and sort of desperate and you love them. Although you're not sure if it's you you or zombie you, or which one is actually you, or both. You've thought about that a million times and still can't figure it out. But when you're eating none of that matters. Eating is, after all, what you "live" for. Eventually the screams turn to gurgles and then stop as you rip flesh from the bones. Now that she's done screaming you can crack open the skull and get at the brain, your favorite part.
As the hunger subsides (but doesn't stop, it never stops, never), you shove the rest of the corpse into the fridge. Licking the blood off of your fingers, you stumble into the bathroom to get cleaned up.
Being a zombie is hard most of the time, but you could never say you don't like it.
