Hello, those of you bothering to read this story. To the few bothering to read this author's note, I am A.R.C. (of Awesomeness) and this is my first story which right now I am currently editing. I'm happy to start my fanfiction journey with Gorillaz as I knew of this band around the time they were doing their Escape to Plastic Beach tour. Me being a child only surrounded by annoying pop, rap, and Spanish music, found the band interesting, but hadn't gotten very into them, as I never knew their songs titles or the band's name. It wasn't until while watching WatchMojo's "Top Ten Gorillaz Songs" that I decided to listen to their music again. I couldn't get enough of them and watched all the music videos, G-bites, interviews, and live performances. I even listened to the Rise of the Ogre audiotape.
I'm happy to start my fanfiction experience with you fans. Gorillaz quickly became one of my favorite bands, and I adore everything about the characters this band is made up of from Murdoc's perverted, fame, and fortune geared mind to young Noodle as she became the groups ray of sunshine. I understand the fanfiction community for this is a bit small, but I hope whoever is willing to read this will give their comments of how I can improve my writing, whether I'm not sticking enough to material, or anything of the sort.
If anyone has problems understanding conversations, I'm trying to keep as much to the dialects as possible. 2D has a Cockney accent, which is strange as there's a region between London (where Cockney accents are heard), and Crawley. However, it seems that in southeast England there is an accent called Estuary English, which sounds extremely similar to Cockney. However, I will write most of the people Stevie speaks to with Cockney accents, as it requires less research, and I've heard Cockney accents. If some are confused why there are certain phrases Stevie and her mother use, it is because I've given them "true" Cockney accents, which involve the "Cockney rhyming slang", in which two or more words are used to describe or replace one word which that phrase rhymes with. I've not given her father one, as it wouldn't make sense how he was raised in London and gained a fairground in Crawley. Thank you the 1% of you who read this entire author's note from beginning to end.
Now to begin: Gorillaz does not belong to me. All characters and songs belong to creators, Jamie Christopher Hewlett and Damon Albarn. The only person technically belonging to me is Stevie and any character I create.
Chapter 1- Hello, My Name is St- . . .
As I started growing up I just got used to being Stuart almost all the time. I think I even got comfortable with it faster than most people would assume I would have, even me. Truthfully, because of how much of a tomboy I was back then there didn't seem much of a difference between being Stevie and being Stuart - well besides the obvious difference in gears of course. We listened to the same music, we had the same interests and hobbies, we played with the same toys, we liked the same instruments. The only real difference was whom the two of us would talk to. Stuart had a whole slew people to talk to: he had friends, his teachers, his classmates, kids in the upper and lower grades that liked talking to him. Stevie on the other hand . . . I didn't really give Stevie many chances to talk to a lot of people besides my parents, my family, and my doctors. That second one doesn't even count since my mom used to force me to talk with them at parties unless I just decided to come to play with my cousins who didn't really understand the situation. I guess I was just going through so many lengths to make sure Stuart's life was practically perfect I just kept pushing aside Stevie's life. Her was so incredibly dull but Stuart's made up for it all I thought.
To put it simply, this was what Stuart's life basically was:
"'ey, Stu-Pot, yew wan' ter go see a film tonigh'?"
"Stuar', we're gonna go ter the park, latah. Are yew comin'?"
"We just 'eard dis new band. Ya've got ter listen ter 'em!"
"Are you comin' ter tha' par'y goin' on this week?"
This was Stevie's:
"Alwigh' Ms- er, Mr. Pot. It looks loike you'll be able ter take a smaller amount his week. Yewr progress 'as increased and it looks loike ya might not 'ave ter take these pills again if this continues."
"Sweetie, could yew take out the laundry? I'm makin' loop the loop right now."
"I advise yew ter take deese pills from now on. Since the uvver pills 'ave been ter strong, deese should 'elp wiv yaaahr 'eadaches but not give yew any dizzy awer sickly feelin' after."
"'onestly, Rachel, why 'asn'' tha' girl ov yaaahrs go''en through wiv dis ye'? I thought da doctor said dis was just a phase."
That last one happened when I was around seven, I think. A friend of my mom had invited us to her son's seventh birthday. I showed up in some of my more boyish clothes, and told my mother they were more comfortable, and I didn't want to ruin my nicer clothes if I was gonna end up playing with the other kids. It wasn't even that boyish now that I remember! There were pictures taken and I was in this bright blue blazer, a white shirt, black slacks and shoes. It wasn't bad. Everyone thought I was a boy, which I didn't see the problem with. I guess the kid's tosser of a mother remembered my mother, Rachel, only had one kid who a girl going through a "phase". I caught that bit of what the bitch had said when I went to use the bathroom and I saw my mom being pulled inside by the mother.
I had had a lot of words to say about that woman. Many, many words did I have to say! Like a polite young "gentleman" though - something the resident pickle-man around here should learn how to be- I didn't say anything though I wanted to use her face as a dartboard. Thankfully my mom was willing to say a few words to her, and my dad drove us back home after we stayed long enough to sing and eat a piece of cake.
"Stevie, Stuart, whomever ya decide ter be at this moment and beyond, you're always me child. I won't throw ya away simply 'cause ya don't decide ter be loike ovver people of the bloomin' Posh 'n' Becks ya were born as." That was what my mother said as soon as we got home. She had a tear hanging on to the edge of her eyelash. I appreciated what her mother said but I didn't completely understand what she meant. Stuart was me. It was a side of me showed to people who weren't close to me, but it was still me. I couldn't even tell when I was just being myself or when I was being Stuart because they were both me and I barely felt any shift.
Puberty made it a bit easier, while also making my life a lot shittier.
My mom made me take down the exact date and time I ended up getting it. It was on a Sunday morning just a few months after the part that it finally came. I was having a lot of stomachaches for the past week. I even ended up having to skip lunch, give up recess, and playing with Stuart's friends after school! I used to eat a lot for my age back then. Anything that tasted good to me I would eat. Somehow I managed to stop myself from eating any foods that make my stomachaches worse. The pains still wouldn't go away though, and they just kept getting worse and worse every day that week.
So, you would assume that the most logical thing for me to do after waking up feeling like my body was being torn apart from the inside and a puddle of blood on my bed sheets, blanket, and my pants' crotch? Scream bloody murder of course! My parents ran inside my bedroom as though hell was on their heels, and I couldn't stop screaming for another few minutes when my father started screaming and waving a bat around.
I managed to say a few words explaining what happened, "Blood . . . stomach . . . 'urt . . . bad," and my father's, David, worried face quickly fell and he looked at my mother. "Sorry love, but you're the bleedin' nurse. This is your jurisdiction. I'll be in bed if you need me." As soon as he'd said that he stumbled back into bed. It did make him seem a bit of a bastard, but he'd only gotten back from work just a couple of hours ago, and I was in too much pain to bother being offended.
After that, my mother went on to explain the "delightful joys" of womanhood and the new "friends" that would be joining me. Apparently I was going to be having something called a menstrual cycle. Since I was young it apparently would only occur every few months and last for a few days. I quickly learned at about age eleven or twelve it gradually increases to the point where I would bleed for about a week or so every month. Just that was terrifying enough for me to hear. Hearing about the cramping and bloating I would face just made the entire thing worse. I was about ready to faint after that, and trying to go to the loo and wash myself of the blood was making me feel like I was about to die from how painful it was. Any young woman who is reading this and recently started menstruating or any woman who remembers when it began will know I'm not exaggerating.
It wasn't until I was clean, wearing a pad, and on my bed with elevated feet, a heating pad on my stomach, a large glass of water on my bedside table, and eating a bar of bitter dark chocolate that I realized what was going on. My body was changing. It was starting to become more and more like a woman's, like my mother's. I didn't want that though. What would happen if I was playing with my mates and it just decided to appear? It wasn't just something I could wave off, the blooming thing hurt like hell. If my body was developing, did this mean that I was gonna end up getting a chest like my mother's? While I will admit that my mom has a rocking pair of tits, I prefer seeing other woman with that rather than having one myself as I'm sure you understand already knowing of my past relationships. Either way, I just couldn't deal with that crap! Bleeding from down there was one thing. Having to deal with two globes of fat on my chest that jiggled and bounced every time I moved was another.
I just moaned and groaned in pain and frustration at this. How could I possibly deal with this at the moment when it felt like my stomach had a hundred- no scratch that out, a thousand different things trying to hurt me from the inside and all I wanted to do was cut myself open to get rid of the bad stuff inside. I hated this. It was even worse that as Stuart I'd have to pretend that he didn't have to deal with blood painfully coming out of his should-be-nonexistent fanny. What was I even going to do when I got back to school? All of my teachers knew me as Stuart. It wasn't as though I could just pull them to side, tell them I was actually a girl, had been hiding my sex years, and ask them if I could leave the class when I had to because I just got my period.
The next few days resulted in an awkward amount of breaks in the middle of class to use the loo, skipping out on physical education, sitting out during recess, and refusing Stuart's friends insistence for him to go out and play. All throughout those days I felt like crying my eyes out from how painful the experience was of trying not to scream bloody murder while I wished I could just transform my body at will so I could have a Peter instead of a fanny. How was I going to continue being like this? I started taking almost three times the amount of pills I usually had everyday to lessen the pain but they didn't seem to be doing anything. All that I wanted to do was curl into a ball and mope.
All I needed was something to keep my mind off of this. Just something that would get rid of at least a few of my problems or at the very least cause me less stress. It wasn't even like I could just to anybody about what was going on or how I felt. Sure my parents tried to understand but I knew they couldn't. All they could do was except this was just how I was. I couldn't even find any books or guides for this damned situation.
It had been a week since my menstrual had passed. I was still moping around and lying in my bed after school. Stuart's mates had asked to play with him and I did show up sometimes, but more often than not I didn't. I'd just sit in bed watching whatever it was I could find, and oddly I found myself watching a whole bunch of zombie movies since my TV was busted for some reason and the only channel that would play was a horror channel. The fake blood on the black and white movie strangely didn't bother me and neither did the organs. That day was pretty much the day that I ended falling in love with zombie movies.
"Love, come daahhn the stairs. I've go' summit for ya. I fink you'll loike it a lot."
I poked my head out of my bedroom door, and wondered what my father was calling me down for. I shuffled down the stairs in sock-clad feet, trying to make sure my lanky legs and arms wouldn't get out of control and cause me to trip up and fall. Even back when I was young I grew unnaturally tall for my age at 4 foot six and a half inches at the age of eight, already making me more of an eyesore and causing some of the things I easily did before to be impossible like hanging from the monkey bars.
Reaching the main, room I started rubbing one of my dry eyes. "What'd ya get, Poppa? Please don'' tell me it's anovver . . ." My sentence trailed off at the sight of the object in my father's hand which he proudly showed.
"Isn'' i' amazin'! I go' i' on sale for a lil' over forty quid." Thrusting it up to my face, the strange keyboard-like contraption gleamed brightly, seeming to have been polished earlier with shining small white and black keys held together with a black frame. On one end of the object was a small hole. "It's a melodica. You blo' aahht from this end usin' this mouthpiece," he paused to fish out a small see-through bag from his pocket, which held a small plastic reed-like object. "Just stick this in the hole and ya blo' through it. It works a lil' loike a piano since ya go''a learn 'ow ter play deese keys, but it's actually more loike a reed 'cause each key ya opens a hole 'n' a diffen' sound comes aahht of each one."
I gingerly took the instrument in my large palms. I carefully turned the melodica to looking at the craftsmanship. Up close I could see it wasn't in absolutely perfect condition. There were a few scuffs and scratches lining the sides and back of the glossy black surface, and the leather strap where I assumed I held the instrument was a bit frayed, but it was still in rather good condition.
"Thank you," I choked out, still shocked at the gift. I had been into a lot of different music but I wasn't sure if I'd ever heard a melodica. I thought maybe if I heard what noise it made I'd know. I carefully inserted the reed until she put it in correctly. Placing my palm between the strap and the instrument, I held it so the keys faced me, and tried to remember what it was I remembered in music.
"If this is a loike a Joanna, then that Brenda Lee should start at C, wite?" I thought. Turning my hand, I held the instrument so my palm was on the keys and were hopefully on the same keys the teacher taught us to play a simple piano tune on, and the reed was facing me. "Here goes nothing."
Woo-wooo woo-wooo woo-woo wooo, woo-woo woo-woo woo-woo wooo.
The sound was a bit odd, and I could barely recognize it was "Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star" I was playing. It was somewhat like listening to a harmonica, but there was a slight an edge to it. It was strange . . . but I liked it a lot. I think that was probably why I resonated so much with this particular instrument as it fit my personality nicely. It was an oddity that wasn't often recognized, but it was truly unique with its strangely familiar bloopy-like noise.
"That was amazin, 'un. I guess ya just 'ave a natural talent."
"If ya want me ter I could score a Jackday and Rook that could teach ya 'ow ter play this. Do ya wanna clock if any classes 're available?" my mother said.
A bright smile lit up my face. "I fink I'd loike that a Hoppin' Pot!
Loop the loop – Soup
Posh 'n' Becks – Sex (Gender)
Clock – See or regard an object (This one isn't a Cockney Rhyme)
Hoppin' Pot – (a) lot
If anyone bothers to read this story, I hope that you will give me a review. Tell me what I should improve and I will happily take into consideration what you've stated. This is as I said before my first fanfic, so I will be happy to except all reviews as long as they are not too flammable. Also to notify anyone who wants to continue reading this story, I am editing all the chapters I have posted so far and I will hopefully finish posting the next edited chapter in another two or three days.