#i sent them some sort of ask about the gorillaz

[snobgoblin]

Don't be shy, share those cracker island theories

x omg ok ok so, I had a lot like a lot a lot and some of them are hard to find. but the ones I was just looking at included.......a lot of paranoid ramblings AS WELL AS

theories that the woman in cracker island was the Evangelist (<- iirc that wasn't my original idea, someone sent it in an ask and I RAN with it)

theories that Noodle was really flying home to get Cyborg Noodle for her plan to overthrow Murdoc during a concert

theories that Russel was posessed by Pazuzu and he wasn't just making it up (we never uhm...... to my knowledge we never got closure on Russel and the pink eyes. has anyone been following that?)

maybe they would expand on what made 2-D a pure soul, and maybe it had something to do with his blue hair (that's a pretty odd reaction to a concussion) and constantly being compared to an angel, as well as having unexplained odd magical powers. this would also make sense if he was part angel just for.... foil reasons, to Murdoc's demonic ties

Paula would return

Ace would return, he would make a breakthrough in the bunker about the apocalypse and realize he needed to take out Murdoc and the cult to prevent it, since they were waking up something they just didn't understand

the cult was in some way tied to the ppg episode See Me, Feel Me, Gnomey <- that was a whole thing

the cult was Murdoc realizing he would be dragged to Hell, and trying to prevent this by making up his own religion and jumping ship, as sort of a breakdown thing like plastic beach

yeah and that's what I remember right now... like I said I really went wild with theories in the beginning but as the radio silence dragged on from Gorillaz my excitement very much died out and i stopped following it as closely ykwim

#gorillaz #asks #anon #tw cult

[peppermint2d]

F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

Chapter 1:

When you took the job at the Essex Enquirer, you had hoped to work in your speciality, investigative war journalism. Since every taxi you tried refused to take you to Kong Studios, right now, the only war you're dealing with is the fight you're having with your GPS. The winding road, plus the rain, and the fact that your company car was ten years old caused your GPS to think you were driving in circles. Luckily, you could see your destination already. In fact, most of Essex could see Kong Studios, the haunted building on top of a great hill.

As a sort of hazing, all new employees get assigned to local entertainment news. You cringe when you heard about the guy who had to write about the mysterious appearance and subsequent disappearance of the shit statue in the city centre. Thankfully, your assignment was much tamer: you only had to interview a local band. You bought their EP "Tomorrow Comes Today" and have been blasting it on the way over. They sounded amazing, and with each repeat of the record, you became more and more excited to talk to them.

But with each kilometre you drive closer to Kong, you become more and more nervous about the surroundings. The heavy rain that was coming in was not helping anything either. There were thunderstorm warnings for that weekend, but it wasn't supposed to be for another day, so you hope the rain will let up soon for some outdoor shots of the band. You stop your car in front of the gothic gates that spelt "Kong" out in the metal bars. You push on them and they do not budge. You see a little intercom box and press the button, a loud buzz signalling that the thing still worked.

"Huh? Who's there?" A gruff voice answered your call.

"Hi. Mr Niccals? I'm here for the interview."

He grumbled. "Right, yeah. Forgot about that." Another buzz punctuated his sentence and signalled the opening of the doors.

You were soaked to the bones as you finished the drive up to Kong. You couldn't tell if your shivers were because of the fact that you were cold or because of the fact that you were driving through a cemetery.

You park your car and rush under the cover of the doorway with your camera and notepad. You knock on the double doors, and although you let your host know you were there earlier, it was a couple minutes before he even opened the door, shirtless, which you filed away to be included in your article.

His eyes looked you up and down "So you're the reporter, eh? I figured they'd over some crazy bat for local news, but I guess I'm special, right?" He smirked at you, his eyes hungry.

"I suppose so. May I?" You gesture to the doorway that he was blocking.

He stepped out of the way, closing the door after you. "I could give you a tour and find the rest of the band?"

"Was I unexpected? I'm so sorry." You flush. Your first assignment and your boss forgot to tell your subjects. How professional.

"It's alright, pet. We get so many journalists that we are always prepared." He slung his arm around your shoulders, leading you around the ground floor.

"So, Mr Niccals, how did you come to own Kong?"

He frowned. "Call me Murdoc, babes. Mr Niccals is my father."

"Right, sorry, Murdoc?"

He hummed, "Just like that." He cleared his throat. "I found it online about two years ago. It was supposed to be a short-term thing, but the owners, they just threw me the keys and left. So I figured I was the owner then. The bowling alley is right in here, by the way." You hurriedly scribbled what he said down.

Your interview continued like that, you asking questions ( "Have you been in any other bands?") and Murdoc answering them ( "Loads. None quite matched my skill though.") while you walked from room to room ( "Here's the recording studio. Found that pelt myself, I really think it brings the room together.") and took notes (Murdoc does not wear deodorant and should).

"Here's the best room of the house. Our very own carpark."

"An eighteenth-century mansion has a carpark?" you asked in disbelief.

He led you inside the space. "I think the biker gang put it in. Crazy bastards. At least now I have a spot for my Winnebago! Want to see it?"

"I'm fine, Murdoc. I don't need to see your private quarters for the article."

"Who said anything about it being for the article? I have real Egyptian silk, mmmm." He started to lead you to his Winnebago.

You stopped walking with him, causing him to stop as well. "Interview first, yeah?" You didn't know any other way of turning him down without running the risk of him cancelling the interview altogether. You start to head over to a doorway that you thought led back upstairs.

"Those go to dents-for-eyes' room. This way takes us upstairs, pet." You climbed the stairs with him. "Up here's really only the kitchen, lounge, and Noodle and Russel's rooms."

He was right, the stairs led directly into the kitchen. All of the rest of the band was gathered there, huddled around a stack of pizza boxes. "Oi! Where did the pizza come from?"

"We ordered it when you were playing dress-up." One of the band members said, and judging by his accent, he was from America.

Murdoc stomped. "I was not playing dress-up! I was trying on costumes for the show!"

You got out your notebook and wrote that down. You could feel the attention of the band on you now. "Oh sorry, I'm here to interview you!"

"Oh, cool. I'm Russel," The American said, "that's Noodle," he pointed at a child who was claiming an entire pizza pie for herself, "and the blue one's 2D."

"Konichiwa!"

"Nice to meet yew!"

You smiled back and greeted them both. The blue one, 2D, was certainly blue, or at least his spikey hair was. His eyes, on the other hand, were pitch black, none of the whites of his eyes was visible. It gave him a unique look and you wonder if it was done intentionally.

Noodle picked up a slice and was about to eat it when you said "I hate to interrupt dinner, but if you could pose for some pictures before you eat, I would really appreciate it. None of that pizza sauce on your faces."

Noodle grumbled but complied, putting the pizza down.

"Where'd yew want the photos?" 2D asked.

You look at Murdoc. "Would it be alright if we take them in the studio?" He shrugged his shoulders and led the way downstairs.

The band posed like they were in the middle of performing. The only issue was that 2D was so tall, that, from your angle, he covered Russel. You spent a little bit of time repositioning them until it was perfect. Just as you were about to take the photo, the lights in the studio went out. The lights everywhere went out.

"A bleeding outage? Right now?" Murdoc fumed.

"I'm sure it will turn on again soon, in the meantime, I guess you can get back to dinner." From somewhere in the darkness, Noodle cheered. "But someone is going to have to help me out of here, I can't see anything."

"You and 2D" Russel chuckled.

Only Murdoc had a phone on him, so he used it to light the way. It especially came in handy when everyone grabbed their food and sat at the table. Murdoc sat at the head, of course, with Noodle and Russel on one side, and you and 2D on the other. Everyone started to eat and you watched them all, mentally taking notes on their habits. You were not surprised that Murdoc chewed with his mouth open. What did surprise you was that the other men actually used their napkins properly.

"'ave yew 'ad dinner? Would yew like some?" 2D offered some of his pizza to you, but you declined. You were bound to get home soon anyway and it would just be unprofessional to eat your guest's food.

"She doesn't need your pizza, Face Ache, she will be getting plenty of my sausage tonight." Murdoc snickered, but no one else at the table joined him.

You awkwardly cleared your throat. "Would you guys be okay with answering some questions while you eat?" They all hummed in agreement while they ate. "So how did you all meet?"

The table became a little tense and all of the members looked at Murdoc. He set his pizza down. "I met 2D first, hit him with a car. Then he joined my band."

"Tell the 'ole story." 2D grumpily persisted.

"Fine. My buddies and I were looking for some keyboards. We crashed into where 2D worked and I hit his eye, proper breaking the thing and sent him into a coma. I had to oversee the poor little mutt as my punishment. I took him to a Tesco and was pulling some wicked tricks that the girls loved. Apparently one of my doughnuts was too fast because 2D went flying through the windshield and hit his face on the curb, breaking the other eye. When he stood up, he was so powerful, I knew I had to have him in my band."

"I 'ad no choice in the matter."

"As if you would say no."

As they start arguing over 2D's involvement, you were still processing the story you heard. Murdoc doesn't seem to be the best person. Murdoc doesn't seem to even be a good person. He seems actively dangerous, and you don't want to be around him longer than you need to. You make note of the whole story and add in a personal note to look up his criminal record.

"So, Russel, how did you join Gorillaz?"

"Murdoc kidnapped me."

That's really not helping his case. "Please tell me that Murdoc had nothing to do with Noodle's joining?"

"Nah, she just randomly showed up one day in a FedEx crate. Played the best guitar I've ever heard and only said her name. Everything else is just Japanese." Russel looked over to Noodle, who nodded, understanding exactly what you guys were talking about.

This was certainly some band. You ask a couple more questions, as required by your boss. "Which song on the EP is your favourite?" "Tomorrow Comes Today." "When can we expect a full album?" "Soon." "Are you surprised by the attention you're receiving?" Murdoc, of course, thought he deserved more, but the other members were much more humble.

After you finish that up, you tell them to pretend like you're not there to get a grasp of their dynamics. They eventually went back into their normal rhythm of banter, but that doesn't stop 2D from trying to include you in their conversation.

They finish their food and 2D gets his portable DVD player and puts on some zombie movie. You're surprised that they let Noodle watch it considering how young she is, but she seems the most enthusiastic. You don't join them on the couch, opting for the floor where the light from the player illuminated their faces. Since you didn't get a picture, you may need to have a drawing instead. You're nearly done when Murdoc announces a piss break and gets up, Noodle and Russel, grabbing snacks.

2D stayed behind on the couch. "Yew know, yew make funny faces when yew draw."

"You were watching me? Oh god, that's embarrassing."

"Seen dis movie loads before, so I got bored and 'ave been watchin you the 'ole time. Sorry, I forget about the 'ole no pupils fing. Freaks people out. Nofing up 'ere to remember that wif though." He gestures to his head.

"No, no, no you're good! I was just too busy drawing to pay attention." you laugh and try to play it off. In reality, it did startle you a bit initially to learn he was staring at you, but honestly, you don't mind and just got to get better at guessing where his focus is.

He smiles wide, showing off his missing teeth, and it lits up the room as if the generators were back on. "Soda?" You nod.

2D and the rest of the band return to the couch, having to wait for Murdoc who apparently has a bladder the size of a horse. He hands you your soda, peeps a glance at your drawing, and gives you a thumbs-up of approval.

You drink the soda and start penning what you think your article may look like. However, the sugar high fades quickly and you're exhausted.

Sharp pain in your side wakes you up and you yelp. You hear the band laugh at what's happened, everyone, except for Murdoc who is groaning on the floor beside you. "Bloody 'ell! What the fuck are you doing on the floor?"

You gulp. "Sleeping?"

"You can do that in my Winnebago with me instead of on the ground, love," Murdoc suggests, wiggling his eyebrows.

"I'll settle for the couch over the ground, if you don't mind me staying over that is. So, where are your duvets?" The band members look around and collectively shrug. "No blankets... I'll just suffer the cold."

"My offer still stands." It did sound slightly better now, but the prospect of him also being there upset you.

"I can survive the cold for one night." Famous last words.

It was freezing in Kong Studios. Your teeth were chattering and you couldn't feel your toes. It's been like this since you woke up after only sleeping an hour.

How are you supposed to warm up? You tried exercising, which was good until you sweated a little and that cooled to ice. Now you're even colder than before. Perfect.

You start to walk around, trying to warm up and think. You couldn't start a fire, not only do you not know how to start a fire, but you also do not want to burn the studio down. And they didn't have blankets... but maybe they have big coats?

You retrace your steps from the tour of the place, heading to where you hope was their rooms. You really only remember trying to get Murdoc to stop leading you back to his Winnebago. You inadvertently walked to the carpark since it was really the only place you could remember to navigate in the dark. Kong Studios certainly didn't feel homey before the lights went out and now the hairs on the back of your neck are standing on edge.

It was pitch black in the hallway, so you ran your hand along one of the walls, yelping every time it touched the edge of a picture frame. You feel the wall take a right and you follow it down, seeing a sliver of light emitting from under a door. Light? Such an unfamiliar sight now. You pray that it was not the bathroom with Murdoc and scented candles inside as you gently knock on the door. You would even prefer Noodle, who would be the worst suited to help you, than Murdoc. The light is certainly coming from a scented candle. A heady scent of vanilla has slipped under the door and is extending into the hallway. Your knock received no answer so you tried again, this time louder.

Louder.

Louder.

At this point, any louder and you would have woken up the other members. So, you open the door a creak to peek inside.

What a sight to behold. The light from the candle made 2D's hair shine a bright azure and cast huge shadows on his far wall as he danced to his cassette tape. His dancing was awful but endearing; he looked like a baby dear that was still getting used to using its limbs. Abruptly, he stopped and you thought he finally noticed you, but then he rushed over to the papers by the candle and wrote something down, which you could only assume was a lyric.

Without any warning, he looked up and made eye contact with you. You stared at his black eyes, waiting for him to say something. He hummed and crossed out a part of the writing.

You had watched him for long enough, so you knocked again, which gained his attention. "Noodle? Is that yew?"

You opened the door further, "No, uh sorry to bother you so late..."

He began to tidy up the papers he was working on, tucking them behind him. "Hiya! What can I do for yew? Got more questions?"

You're so glad that he didn't mind your intrusion. His light smile put you at ease. "Yeah, I suppose I have one. You don't have anything to keep warm with? Like a jacket maybe?" You were surprised that he wasn't bothered by the cold, only wearing a T-shirt over a thin long-sleeved shirt.

"Oh. Yew cold? I might 'ave somefin! May swallow you 'ole though." His voice cracked as he spoke as he started digging through the piles of clothes on the floor, looking for something. He pulled out a blue jacket, not unlike the colour of his hair, and held it out. "This is one of me favourites! I fink it looks punk, don't yew?" You nod. It did indeed look wicked. "Go on, put it on! I would like it back when yew're done, if that's alright." He looked so nervous asking for his own property to be returned.

You smiled warmly at him. "Of course 2D, you have my word." You slip it on, and he was right, it was way too big on you! Most noticeably in the arm length, where the edges of the sleeves hung off your arms. It was heavy and warm and smelled like cigarettes and something else, something you could only imagine as 2D. It felt like a safe hug. Maybe 2D should be nervous about you keeping it. "I see why it's your favourite."

He scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. I 'ope to wear it in a music video! If Murdoc lets me, that is." At this point, he sits back down again. "Wanna stay? I've gots more zombie mofies! Like Dawn of the Dead... or Evil Dead... or Zombie Flesh Ea'ers!"

"Sure, but I'm winded." You yawn and snuggle deeper into the jacket.

"Don worry! I'll pause it if yew fall asleep." He grins and pats the ground next to him, where you join him. "Which ones 'ave you seen before?"

"None of them. Which is your favourite?"

"NONE OF 'EM? Well then, we gotta watch Dawn of the Dead, it's the first Zombi mofie!" He loads the film and puts the tiny player in front of both of you, turning off the candle to make the lighting better. "I'm so excited for yew to watch dis! It's been a couple monfs since I saw it meself."

He lets the movie play, occasionally pausing to explain why a certain scene was so impressive in horror movie history. You barely watch the film, rather you pay attention to 2D, mentally tracing the look of excitement on his face and committing his hand gestures to memory. You never know what may be important for your article.

#2d gorillaz #2d stuart pot #2d x reader #stuart pot x reader #2d fanfiction #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom #phase 1 #stuart pot

[oliverwoodmarrymepls]

I posted 2,323 times in 2021

817 posts created (35%)

1506 posts reblogged (65%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.8 posts.

I added 1,652 tags in 2021

#sarah the one who hates the muppets - 376 posts

#monique my dialogue dealer - 336 posts

#jess shut up - 281 posts

#zoya the wonderful human - 176 posts

#queue seem star shaped <3 - 117 posts

#erin my fellow football men hater - 101 posts

#lena my bestie who i’m in love with - 97 posts

#jess’ 100 celebration <3 - 74 posts

#taja <3 - 55 posts

#anon <3 - 39 posts

Longest Tag: 92 characters

#not being able to go watch gorillaz song machine tomorrow has actually sent me over the edge

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

wow wow wow what?? so i don’t know how there’s 100 of you but thank you very much. i love you all. literally all i do is talk about oliver wood, so thank you for putting up with it <3

about me !!

as this is my first celebration, i obviously had to do a britney spears theme - she is my queen after all <3 send in as many asks as you want, you don’t even have to be following.

CLOSED !! ily all thank you for participating <3

oh when it comes to what characters and stuff, anyone from hp is fine, i don’t know many marvel characters well so maybe try to avoid them, and i like friends so maybe some characters from that? idk <3

i’m shit scared that no one is gonna interact PLS

🎀hit me baby one more time : song ratings (send me a song and i’ll rate it, and i’ll give you a song i think you’ll like)

🌷oops…i did it again : ships (send me a few facts about yourself and i’ll ship you with a character from harry potter - please specify gender and era)

💄toxic : fmk (send me three characters and i’ll say whether i’d fuck, marry or kill them, or any fmk variant if you want to shake things up)

🌺womanizer : cym (give me things to cast my mutuals as)

🦩criminal : mini playlist (give me a character and i’ll give you some songs that remind me of them)

👠if u seek amy : !moots only! (send me this emoji and i’ll give you a song that reminds me of you)

👅gimme more : headcanons (give me a character and i’ll give you a random hc - specify sfw or nsfw)

my wonderful wonderful moots who i love so very much:

73 notes • Posted 2021-08-21 15:19:37 GMT

#4

damon albarn

singing ‘Country House’ on Top of the Pops (1995)

88 notes • Posted 2021-10-28 02:01:22 GMT

#3

Contentment in Stolen Jerseys

Oliver Wood x gn!reader

Warnings: swearing (like one word), reader being kind of awkward, just comfy fluff <3

Prompts:

“You could stay here, tonight. For as long as you'd like.”

Your lover is resting their head on your lap, falling asleep whilst you are playing with their hair.

You are wearing your lover’s clothes when they say, “Can I get my shirt/hoodie back?” and you say “No.” or “Come and get it.”.

a/n: this is for @heloisedaphnebrightmore’s 3.5k writing challenge!! it took me forever to write and it’s a little on the short side but here it is — and for the sake of the fic, there’s a sofa in your dorm, lucky you

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

With Oliver’s head situated in your lap, you felt calm. You always felt at peace with Oliver. The two of you were in your dorm; You sat at one end of the sofa while Oliver was sprawled out across the rest of it, his head resting sweetly on your lap. Mindlessly, you ran your fingers through his soft brown hair, causing the boy to slowly drift off.

“So how was practice earlier? You didn’t say,” You decided to break the silence, the comfortable silence, and pull him from his dreamy state.

“Good! I reckon the team have finally sorted themselves out- finally taken my brilliant advice,” You giggled at his casual self-confidence. You found the boasting that caused everyone else to roll their eyes oddly charming. “Bloody freezing today though,” He added, getting a mere hum in response from you. “Shame I couldn’t find my jersey,” He remarked, opening his eyes just in time to see your own eyes widen.

“Shit! I didn’t realise—”

“It’s okay,” He chuckled, cutting you off, “I’m happy to suffer in the freezing cold for you any day.” He looked up at you through his eyelashes innocently, a faint smirk etched on his lips. “Only if you keep playing with my hair like that, it’s nice,”

You took his remark as a prompt to continue idly twirling his hair around your fingers, watching as his eyes gently close; His former smirk seemed to disappear, a content look painted his face instead. You studied his features. His effortless beauty was bewildering. He managed to take your breath away even when he was just resting. A small smile made it’s way onto your face as you traced his eyebrows, watching Oliver relax under your touch. You simply allowed the comfortable silence to fill the room; His presence was more than enough for you.

His eyes fluttered open for just a second as he glanced at the window. “S’pose I’ll have to get going soon, aye,” he sighs, noticing the sunset. As beautiful as it may be, it always disappointed him; Anything that forced him away from you couldn’t really be that beautiful, could it? You take a second to reply.

“Or, you could stay here, tonight?” You suggest, “-for as long as you’d like.” Your voice came out as more of a mumble. Truthfully, you hadn’t expected to say it at all; You felt your cheeks heat up as the feeling of embarrassment and awkwardness crept up on you.

Oliver’s eyes shot open. “Really?” he spluttered, sitting up to look at you properly. A wave of relief washed over you as you saw the corners of Oliver’s mouth turn upwards into a smile. Though you could still feel your cheeks burning, at least the awkward feeling had subsided.

“Yes, really!” You giggled, “if you want to, that is.” You barely had time to finish that thought before Oliver had launched himself forward, his lips meeting yours.

He broke the kiss seconds after. “Of course I want to, I’ve been waiting for you to ask,” he breathed, a clear smile on his face. It wasn’t his usual cocky ‘I win, I’m better than you’ grin, either; There was a soft genuine smile on his face, the kind that said “I’m so lucky to have you” without him saying anything at all.

His face inches away from yours, he briefly looked down at your jersey-clad chest before bringing his eyes back up to meet yours. “Could I, by any chance, get that back?” He queried. You thought about it for a moment before replying.

“Not a chance,” You answered. It was your turn to host the smirk.

“You little-“ You cut him off by pulling him into another kiss, overwhelmed by the pure feeling of your relationship taking the next step.

𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧

Thank you @velvetcloxds for reading it and inspiring the title <33

and here is your requested tag @sheraayasher you wonderful human

89 notes • Posted 2021-11-07 11:02:24 GMT

#2

👅 oliver teaching you the rules of quidditch with salt and pepper shakers and whatever else there’s on the table. (Not sure if this is enough to write a headcanon. If u don’t like it, don’t worry about it, I can either send you something else or you can just discard it)

i literally adore the thought of this and i got a bit carried away with it and wrote something even though i’ve never written anything here before so enjoy please

@velvetcloxds i’m coming for your crown i’m joking never stop writing me dialogues please

“me? play quidditch?!” you scoff at the boy’s absurd suggestion.

“yeah! it would be fun to play together, don’t you think?” he replied, slightly confused by your reaction.

“i’ve never even picked up a broom, let alone read the rules or how to play,” he stared at you in complete shock, baffled at how someone could live their life not knowing how to play. it didn’t take him long to shake away the shock.

“well then,” he started, sliding both of your plates along the table, “we can start with the rules,” he quickly scrambled some items together; two forks, a salt shaker, a pepper shaker, a candle stick and a grape sat in front of you.

“i don’t remember seeing a candlestick on a quidditch pitch,” you remarked, rather sceptically, as you picked it up to inspect.

“this-“ he huffed slightly as he took it from you, “-is our goal actually.” he placed it front of you both as he placed the salt and pepper shakers down, one in front of the candle and one just in front of him. he paired the shakers with a fork each.

“okay..so if that’s the goal, then these-“ you pointed to one of the shakers.

“-are our players, granted there’s usually seven, but two will do to teach you a little” he finished your sentence, reaching to pick up the grape. “and here is our quaffle,”

“that’s the main one, right?” you queried, trying your best to show you had some understanding of the game. he smiled at your attempt at contributing.

“why, you don’t need me at all do you?” he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “you’re my little quidditch expert already,”

join in on the fun! <3

93 notes • Posted 2021-08-24 09:15:13 GMT

#1

Hey can you make one where reader and Oliver are together and the twins just teasing them

hello lovely anon! of course i can, but bare with me please, writing is hard

i hope you like it, sorry it took me so long <3

Oliver took his place next to you in the great hall, kissing your temple softly as he sat down. “Good practice?” You inquired as he took your hand in his own. He simply hummed in response before continuing. “I missed you though,” He added, leaning forward to trap your lips in a gentle kiss.

You giggled as he pulled away, both of you unable to wipe the smiles from your faces. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Fred queried, leaning into his twin. “I’d say so,” George replied, the same childish grin plastered on both of their faces. “Captain’s whipped!” they exclaimed as they chuckled. Oliver rolled his eyes, though his grip on your hand didn’t loosen, as he shifted slightly to face the pair. “I’ll have you know that I am not ‘whipped’ as you say.” He stated, quickly turning back to you.

“You know I don’t mean that though, right?” He whispered as he leaned into you, squeezing your hand ever so slightly as he worried that you may have take offence to his statement. Clearly he hadn’t whispered as quietly as intended since you could hear two familiar giggles echoing behind Oliver. You were the one to roll your eyes, this time, as you peered around the Scot.

“Have you got a problem with two people in love?” You asked bluntly, glaring at the twins, only getting a mere snicker from Fred. “Awww, you hear that Freddie? They’re in loooove,” George replied with a mocking tone, ignoring your question.

don’t mind me just tagging the lovely monique @velvetcloxds

150 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 06:32:34 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Hey! I've seen cul(t)chie be used to tease. I doubt non-Irish folk know it, so I wouldn't call it pejorative. Or maybe it was and I'm too young to know. I selectively forget and disown my ethnicity if I want to and have a habit of stealing accents or slang, especially when I sing, so I'm not nationalist enough to say. My accent is also very light (Think Rob Sheehan). If I find out my favourite celebrity is half-Irish or I'm reading a Wilde book, I'm very Irish. And if I'm talking to a nationalist or a cute English boy, I'm suddenly global and assimilated. Haha.

You don't really have to worry about looking ignorant. I think most people won't notice and find it endearing that you're interested, not to mention the UK is so full of cultures that almost everyone is clueless about half of it and pretending not to be. Most people I meet use Americanisms because they grew up on American telly. It's just a part of life. I've always enjoyed your writing because you take such joy in concepts that most British people are derisive and bored with. Makes being British seem enjoyable and nostalgic almost. Lmao.

I'm still struggling to untangle my feelings about ethnicity and all of that rubbish (who belongs here and who speaks like this and who grew up in my primary school and whose parents have this skin colour and whose great-great-grandma worked in the mills and who assimilated and whatever), so I'm not an expert on anything. Whole thing gives me a right headache and I strongly consider walking around with a full face mask because I don't want to be arsed identifying with anything or anyone some days.

I can never find believable slang when I'm writing either, so I know how you feel about that. If you're interested in checking out more British things, there was this comedy in the 90s (around the time Gorillaz was set) called Stella Street, which ripped the piss out of British celebrities and actually starred Phil Cornwell, voice of Murdoc. I remember watching it when I was younger. Not sure if this ask sent, so if I'm sending it twice and look like a tit, that's super. Best wishes!

First, I am so sorry it has taken me well over a week to answer you-- I don't like to let things sit for so long, and especially not something so friendly and personal. I didn't want to rush out a response between work tasks, and blah blah blah, all of that's just yammering, but I am sorry for the delay!

Thank you for your personal experience with the word cul(t)chie, that really helps to classify how a word is used. It must sound bizarre but it really can be quite difficult to get a realistic image of how often/when a slang term is used, and in a lot of cases, how offensive a word may be; in any culture there's going to be a massive sliding scale on which the language & dialect sits, and as native speakers we sort of take for granted that innate knowledge of when a word sounds cool or funny, or when it sounds horribly inappropriate but you're taken pity on as an ignorant outsider. For instance, 5 years ago, I don't think any Americans knew the word "chav"; 2 years ago, a percentage of small-time comedians online picked it up; now, we are still in the, uh, developing stages of an even smaller percentage learning there's context to words and it's not necessarily an okay thing to say all the time. Yet even as I say that, if my friends ask me to explain "rude British words" to them, I very much still don't have an innate understanding of how each and every one ranks and who is more likely to say what, if anyone genuinely says it at all. It doesn't help that the slang dictionaries which take on a fairly literal dictionary style will sometimes forgo words like "insult" and "slur" (which you'd assume may indicate some level of severity) and instead categorize everything from berk to nonce as "pejoratives." You well know that there's a big gap between calling someone those things, haha. And on top of that, more than once I've run something by Danni ElapsedSpiral or done some research on dead Livejournal "Britpick" communities and found a word to be much milder than it seemed, or much more offensive than I originally thought. I know I'm rambling on now but I've genuinely become really really engrossed in this subject-- if I were some kinda smart guy getting a degree (author's note: I am not that, I am in fact a dummy) I'd want to do a paper on the subject or something, haha.

Anyway! I understand that split feeling (inasmuch as one can understand though a different lens of experience.) At least for myself, I really root it in my own contrarian tendencies, haha. I have a compulsion to not agree with whoever's talking loudest. Like any younger liberal person, I spend most of my time criticizing America, associating patriotism with nationalism, dreaming of what life would've been like living in some "idyllic British countryside" town, feeling such a sense of shame for how the country's insulation has impacted my growth as a person... with those qualifiers, it's bizarre how one insufferable comment on a Reddit thread makes me start mentally compiling points for my terrible thesis, haha. Listen, it was a mistake having countries. It ruined a pretty cool planet. I wish I could be perceived alongside people I agree with socially and politically rather than people I'm actively voting against and actively vote against me just because we're on the same massive hunk of dirt.

For what it's worth, Robert Sheehan's accent is incredibly charming. I'm sure you were not asking for my input on that at all, but on the chance you were saying that your accent is light or that you borrow accents with any apology, I certainly don't think you should feel like your accent needs to be made lighter or heavier or more or less regional, or that you should or shouldn't sing any particular way. I think it's quite cool to pick up accents and phrases while still bringing your own unique voice to the mix for others to admire and pick up on themselves! Kumbaya and all that, but it's nice to think in the modern internet age we could sort of have this evolving, mishmash global culture without stepping on and disrespecting individually important heritage. I have a complicated relationship with my own accent; I hated it when I was young and really trained myself to speak without it. It comes out when I'm just with my family or partner, but I'd never let myself be recorded speaking with that accent-- I really have to be so distracted that I'm not thinking about my voice at all to have an accent, and I am much too high-strung of a person for that to easily happen, haha. So the one or two recordings that exist of me on here are me doing my "public" voice.

I know it's all rather heavy subject matter and I don't want to give the impression I'm being flippant about something that weighs heavy in your mind-- it's just quite different, "interesting" in a decidedly uncheerful way, to observe the unique struggles regarding assimilation and identity in the UK, coming from my admittedly uninformed perspective. It isn't something we're very privy to. There is a huge problem in the American perception of the UK and Europe as a whole (sometimes including the UK under that umbrella, sometimes distinguishing it) as a quirky fantastical mono-culture. Even among the anti-nationalist, progressive kids online, they grow up resenting the cult of patriotism and bigotry in their backyard, and they idolize what seems more romantic without understanding all of the distinct cultures or the familiar xenophobic depth of division between them. I try to talk about these things and hear about lived perspectives so that I can have both a healthier appreciation and a broader unglamorous knowledge. Just as I appreciate a warts-and-all character study, I don't find it personally difficult for opinions, fondness, failures and truth to co-exist in a bigger, more precise, more realistic picture. My only aim is knowing. I don't like looking at the picture less when I can see more of it.

Thank you for the recommendation! I'd like to say I've watched it all since you've sent this but I haven't actually found it anywhere yet. (When I first looked it up, Google's top result was... Stella, from A Streetcar Named Desire.) I'll keep an eye out though! I'd love to hear Phil acting in something pop culture-y with a similar Gorillaz tone, as the only other work I've heard from him has been the polar opposite of Murdoc, haha. That's fun in its own way, but I'd like to hear him doing what I could maybe imagine as a less absurd Murdoc. (Though by your description, it sounds like the show may not actually be less absurd, haha.) As an aside, I've got a few British pop culture books on my holiday list so I'm looking forward to reading and reporting back anything of special Stu-y/Murdoc-y interest, which I gladly invite you to chime in on!

Thanks for your message and I'm sorry again for the delay! And thank you for your opinions, kind words, and listening ear! I hope this was sensible enough to you and doesn't make me look like a raving lunatic. Best wishes to you!

#anonymous

[slayfics]

Car Ride

Murdoc shares some dark thoughts on a car ride home.

Possible suicidal ideation triggers.

It was later then you expected to be heading back home. Murdoc dragged you on a last minute adventure to pick up a specific part he needed for whatever machine he was building. He was keeping it a secret from you and the rest of his band. You were trying to keep your eyes open on the drive back to the Gorillaz HQ in the red Chevrolet Impala, but you felt your eyes getting heavier every second and it became increasingly harder to bring them open again after you blinked. 

“Thank you for coming with me love.” Murdoc said.

“Of course.” You said coming out of your sleepy daze and turning to look at him for a moment. Your eyes quickly became heavy again though and you leaned your head back against the head rest. 

“I never got to ask how you day went did I?” Murdoc asked as you were just beginning to doze off.

“Oh no you didn’t.” You say.

“Well then… how was it he asked?” 

“It was alright I guess. Just getting more stuff sorted out at my job. I don’t really care to talk about it now. I feel like I’m just constantly having to stick up for myself there.”

“If I may say so… I think you have grown a lot. You’re not letting anyone step over you like before and we’ll I’d like to think a lot of that came from being around me all the time. You’ve really learned to tell people what you are worth and make sure they give you what you deserve.” He said. You laughed a bit.

“I like that you just took my accomplishments and attributed them to yourself.” 

“Right.. well I didn’t mean to. I just think… you’ve grown a lot and it’s really pleasant to see. You deserve it love. No doubts about that at all.”

“Thank you Murdoc. I do think I’ve grown, and I’d go as far as to say some of that growth did come from your influence. Satan knows you’ve got enough confidence for twelve people so I do think I’ve soaked some of it up. Just in time too. I really needed it.”

“Feel free to take more whenever you need it love.” He said with a smirk growing across his face. You closed your eyes once again and began to be lulled asleep by the bumps in the road barely holding on to consciousness. 

“You know…” Murdoc began. “I would go as far to say you’ve helped me out too love.” He finished and turned over to look at you. You were waiting for the rest of his response though so you didn’t move. You wanted to ask him how you had helped him. Surely he was the one with the fame and experience so how could some ordinary girl help him out in anyway? But you were extremely exhausted and stayed quite instead. A few moments of silence passed before Murdoc spoke again.

“I know things were tough when I had to go back to London and you had to stay here for your work. We talked almost every night for a good while…. Until we started speaking only weekly, but our phone calls really grounded me and kept me sane. I mean I’m still as charismatic as ever but… I made a promise to Noodle, Russell, and most of all 2D to be better… It’s not easy.. but talking to you made me feel like it was. Being with you I… I think I’m the person I’m supposed to be. It’s simple like breathing…. But sometimes it was hard being so far. It felt like I didn’t have my conscious again to tell me right from wrong. Yeah that’s it. You’re like my conscious you keep me from falling back into that person I used to be. Of course.. I had relapses while I was away.” Murdoc turned to look at you. You were barley awake hearing every word but not animated enough to react. 

“I guess the worst day happened when I was left behind. Yeah. That was the worst of it. You see the others planned this boat trip but I guess they couldn’t be bothered to let their good pal Murdoc know about it. The twits left without me.. without even inviting me. I guess I got to thinking that day that… maybe Gorillaz doesn’t need me. They sent out a whole record without me. Don’t get me wrong Ace is my good mate but.. I just got to thinking you know? A record without me and now a whole boat trip… they really could be just fine without me around… maybe even better perhaps and I..didn’t really see a point anymore if what I was working on my whole life didn’t need me anymore. The people I love they just given up on me… I was just really down you see? Not seeing the point of it all.. having myself a nice proper pitty party on the couch I was, but then you called me. We hadn’t talked in quite some time and you were so cheery on the phone asking how the project was coming long and I just couldn’t be gloomy hearing your voice. I lied to you said I was having the time of my life.. but I was right melancholy at the time. I was brushing off tears telling you how I was doing. I don’t know why I wasn’t just honest. Said I was having an awful time that my band or this world didn’t need me anymore but.. hearing your voice I just seemed to chirp up again. Remember who I was I guess. I wish I would have told you though. Would of been nice to talk through some of those thoughts..” Murdoc turned to look at you but you hadn’t moved. “And here I am now telling you after you’ve fallen asleep. It’s just so hard to bring myself to say these things but I don’t think I could’ve made it this far without you. You kept me sane while I was away, and most importantly kept me accountable to the man I said I wanted to be and I’m trying to be everyday. I guess what I really want to say is I love you.” Murdoc laughed. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to say all these things when you’re awake but just know till then.. It keeps my mind right talking to you, even if you’re asleep I still feel listened to. I hope you’re having some fantastic dream.” Murdoc finished

“Oh I am.” You said without moving. “I was just dreaming about some zombie gorillas.” “Wow that’s some dream.” Murdoc said trying to hold in his obvious nervousness from realizing you were awake this whole time.

“Yeah it was… by the way, I love you too Murdoc and you can talk to me about your thoughts anytime.” You say and finally drift into sleep. 

#murdoc niccals #murdoc gorillaz #gorillaz fandom #gorillaz #gorillaz fanfiction #murdoc x reader #murdoc faust niccals #murdoc fan #fluff #murdoc sfw #murdoc fic #gorillaz sfw #gorillaz x reader #gorillaz fanfic

[grlz-babe]

Gorillaz TikToks

Murdoc

I’ve made a post about his tiktok presence before so I’ll be brief

Basically he’s always shirtless and/or crying

50/50 on whether he’s playing his bass or not

He posts sporadically

All his posts have 10k+ views and comments are turned off

His most recent post was uploaded last November

Noodle

She was not the first to get on it, that was Murdoc, but she was second

Lots of teasers for upcoming projects

Sometimes she plays some of their old songs

Katsu has a side account dedicated to him

It has more views and followers than Noodle’s main

She also has another side account where she shows off different outfits/makeup looks

At least one video from that account has gone viral

There’s a lot of comments telling her she looks like the guitarist from Gorillaz

She thinks they’re hilarious and sometimes replies like “i get that a lot”

And now let me Nuace for a sec

Also on her fashion account, she’ll duet Ace

They always have fun planning videos together

The first time they reunited after he moved out of the house, she made a tiktok about flying to him

It’s extremely wholesome

Noodle posts at least five times a week

2D

He was in one of Murdoc’s tiktoks and started his own account after that one blew up

Most of his videos consist of him singing the band’s old songs or talking about how they were written

He has the most followers out of anyone in the band and is the only one who’s verified

He’s insanely flattered by this small fame

It sort of goes to his head, but he learned his lesson about abusing it

One time he asked Noodle to help him become an E-Boy

It turned into a five-part series and those are his most viral videos

Later on, he tried to recreate the magic by doing a three-part VSCO Girl makeover

Those were also kind of popular but not as popular as the E-Boy ones

He’s the only one who streams out of the entire band, and he usually uses them as a way to talk to his audience about the band

Also he has a snake plant named Gertrude that he features in all of his videos

2D also has a lack of a posting schedule, though he tries for at least two videos a week

Russel

Russel only downloaded the app so he could try to understand why Noodle likes it

He ended up learning a bunch of dances on accident

His posts are for the most part either tiktok dances or small cooking stuff, the latter because I will die for the chef Russel headcanon

On occasion, he’ll talk mental health, activism, and LGBT+ positivity

He avoids interacting with his audience but he loves reading comments

Literally this man will sit there and read comments for three hours because he loves them so much

Has only turned off comments once because people were being so negative

Hates the fluffy coffee trend the most and will not do it on a principle, even though his audience constantly asks for it

Duets Noodle’s fashion account with behind-the-scenes stuff and a ton of encouragement

And now for a moment of 2Russ

2D wanders into his cooking videos pretty often

He’s always sent back out of the kitchen with a snack/drink and a kiss

This has been a moment of 2Russ

He posts every two days

#Gorillaz #Noodle #Russel Hobbs #2D #Stuart Pot #Murdoc Niccals #tiktok #headcanons #i'm in a MOOD

[a-trainers-tale]

Hello there! I'd like to request a paid pokemon team description if you please! I had previously sent in the ask for the free one but changed my mind and decided to pay for one instead. Hopefully that's alright. Lol. So where to start. I'm a 21 year old female Leo. Personality wise, I would basically boil it down to, I’m an amiable introvert. I’ve always been really shy and quiet around strangers, maybe even a bit cautious of friendships as I’ve had too many experiences in the past of (1/?)

toxic friends. However, once I perceive a person to be real and genuine, I can open up to them easily, becoming who I truly am around them: fun-loving, excitable and talkative. I have MBTI personality type INFP also known as The Mediator, which makes sense as I'm definitely the peacekeeping type. In my small group of friends, I'm basically the one who keeps them from getting into fights with each other or other people. I'm also the one who diffuses situations. I myself dislike conflict and (2/?) will do everything in my power to actively ignore it, which may be one of my downfalls. For more positive traits, I have a high level of patience, meaning that I won’t give up on people easily even if everyone else has. I’m also very nurturing towards the people I love. I love raising people up and giving them all the support and affection I can. I’m definitely a hugger. However, more negative traits include my stubbornness and pride. These two go hand in hand really. I pride myself in my (3/?) ability to lead and keep a cool and level head when stuff hits the fan but sometimes even a situation can be too much for me and I’ll quickly begin to crumble. However, in an effort to still appear as the cool, kind leader everyone looks up to, I’ll straight up lie about how I really feel and oftentimes will refuse help. This isn’t just with feelings either. It’s with anything from homework to projects, etc. It’s probably worth mentioning that I can also be incredibly lazy sometimes. My (4/?) bursts of hardworking spirit can often be met with equally long periods of me just going, “Meh…” My hobbies and interests include my top three: Drawing, writing and playing video games. I draw mostly cartoon looking things with maybe a dash of anime sprinkled in there. There’s definitely a lot of video game fan art in there too. When it comes to my writing, I generally like to write a lot of fanfiction (the non-cringy sort. lol.) about different video games and of course, I write my own (5/?) do, so much so that sometimes the story never even gets written. My favorite kinds of video games range from adorable friendly things to horrifying video games. Things like RPGs, strategy, action, horror, etc. I don’t have any consoles so I mostly play PC and mobile games. My top three favorite franchises are Pokemon, Animal Crossing and Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney. I also enjoy Minecraft, Destiny 2 and Tomb Raider. I’ve also been playing Pokemon since Generation 2 with my first game (6/?) Pokemon Silver. Other things I love include baking, reading (especially history), movies (love studio ghibli, anime, horror, action, thriller, comedy, etc.), TV shows about true crime, history and the paranormal. Speaking of, I'm a huge fan of the paranormal and come from a family of people spiritually sensitive to those sorts of things. I also love animes like Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, Hetalia and My Hero Academia. My favorite music includes hardstyle, edm, pop, 80’s/90’s hits, etc. (7/?) My favorite artists consist of Gorillaz, Melanie Martinez, Fleetwood Mac, Journey, etc. I also love going on hikes, swimming and just getting to experience nature. I will admit, I’m a kid who loves to snooze. Sometimes when there’s nothing else left to do, nothing’s better than curling up in bed with the blinds closed and room freezing cold with a warm blanket. I think the reason why is because I’m a vivid dreamer. Most of my inspiration comes from the things I dream up of and my dreams (8/?) always provide me with what may not be obtainable in real life. I’m currently going to school to become a preschool, elementary school or daycare teacher. I’m glad knowing that someday, I could make a difference in a child’s life with my kindness. I love Pokemon because it's given me a sense of joy all these years later after initially discovering it as a child. It's the one thing that had always stuck. This had been a lot of asks but I hope it's enough. Thank you for your time. (9/9)

Trainer class: Nurse

You have a naturally nurturing and caring heart and mind. You like to be able to help people and take care of people, this comes from both a genuine desire to help and also a likely subconscious desire to hold that kind of power in any relationships you have. You have a lot of patience and are willing to wait for things. Nurses do not initiate battle, they will wait for people to come to them directly, and after the battle will heal their opponent's pokemon. This is similar to how you approach your relationships with people, you wait for them to come to you and then dedicate yourself to listening, helping, and diffusing problems. Some people might not really understand you and think that your way of life seems boring or irritating but the way that you view it, helping others is also helping yourself. By not going out of your way to be a rockstar pokemon trainer, you are able to better focus on what you care about, namely helping those who need help and bonding with your pokemon who are safe in your care. Your determination comes and goes, some days you are content to relax with those closest to your and your pokemon, but other days you are out trying to find new methods of helping trainers and pokemon alike. You are creative in how you help pokemon and you pride yourself on your work when you are feeling passionate

Starter: Chikorita

Your starter pokemon is Chikorita. Like you, Chikorita really loves laid back activities and taking naps. Chikorita is often found sunbathing and relaxing in comfortable spots outdoors. Chikorita spends a lot of time looking for the perfect nap conditions and once it finds them it is hardpressed to leave before having its fill of a wonderful afternoon nap. You and Chikorita spend a lot of time relaxing and napping together, and you bond over enjoying simpler activities. Chikorita's lower energy makes it a good fit for you, and it doesn't often pick fights so it will never be a cause for concern for you. 

Partner: Steelix

Steelix is also a very patient pokemon, living for over 100 years sometimes, these pokemon will slowly become harder than diamonds. Steelix is also a very stubborn and very individualistic pokemon, which makes it somewhat of a challenge for you to get it to work with your other pokemon sometimes. You relate to your Steelix's desire to hole itself up in a cave somewhere and ignore any responsibility it may have, but you also relate to how it very often pulls itself out and helps out the rest of your team with you. Steelix is also fiercely protective, you so never have to worry about your other pokemon getting into trouble with Steelix around.

Team: Meganium (starter), Bastiodon, Darmanitan (zen), Dragonair, Hatterene

Hometown: Icirrus City, Unova

Your hometown is Icirrus City in the Unova region. This town is very humid and covered in wetlands, so most of the buildings are on higher ground and there are a lot of inclines. This town is also nearby Dragonspiral Tower, which is the oldest building in Unova and is said to be the home of legendary pokemon Zekrom and Reshiram. Because of your early life consisting of brave trainers venturing here to seek these legendary pokemon, and people fighting over the right to study and unearth these pokemon, you came to realize that you prefer to stay out of the mess most of the time and sometimes help people stuck within it. Your dedication to yourself and your pokemon is very rooted in your decision when you were younger to live a simpler life than a lot of the people who came through your hometown. You also gained some creativity due to growing up in an area that required creative architecture. Your experiences with rather difficult terrain and an interesting social climate made you the kind of person you are, namely that you keep your head when things get weird and you are willing to wait and be patient when others are more inclined to rush in head first.

Battle style: Slow and steady wins the race

You are a very patient and slow battler. You take your time and are very cautious. You tend to come overprepared, with lots of healing items and stat boosting items. Your pokemon are not necessarily hard hitters, but you prioritize their ability to be reliable and predictable for you to use. You prefer pokemon who will consistently do a set amount of damage, for instance, over a pokemon who might or might not do a ton of damage in one hit. You prefer pokemon that work well in groups, you like a team that can work together and help each other over individualistic and self reliant pokemon. You help your pokemon learn to work together and learn to love being a team instead of competing with one another. You enjoy being able to take your time in battles and observe your own pokemon and your opponents for areas they could be more creative or more consistent. Your pokemon all trust you deeply and know that if they take any damage or have any conflict they can't solve themselves, you will be there to help them out of their bind and comfort them after the fact. 

#pokemon #pokemon trainer #pokemon request #steelix #chikorita #unova #ajarfullofink

[supposed2bfunny]

It’s a collaboration for Murdoc’s big day!! @trashfrog99 and I worked together to produce this art and story to celebrate our favorite Satanist! Also, I must credit @elapsed-spiral for the concept of Murdoc’s gift being a sort of “Kong 2.0″ (her words, her story Yearz). That chapter was a huge inspiration for what this story would morph into. Rating: T Warnings: None Murdoc’s grand plan to sleep until approximately four in the afternoon was dashed by the tentative knock on his door around lunchtime. “Boss?” Ace’s voice called, “you up?” He fumbled around blindly until he found a bottle opener on his bedside table and threw it at the door to communicate his annoyance. “I am now,” he growled, sitting up and smoothing his disheveled bedhead as best he could. “Give us a tic, you twat, I’m not decent.” After the pre-birthday celebration that he’d had with Stu, that was a wild understatement. The cap to a bottle of lube and a veritable parade of condom wrappers scattered across the floor as he threw his bed sheets aside and groped around for something to wear. A full two minutes later, he was zipping up a pair of jeans and trying to sort out his rattiest Prince tee-shirt, which seemed determined to remain inside out. “Yeah, what do you want at the ass-crack of dawn anyway?” he asked, opening the door and half-expecting Ace to have vacated already. But the American stood there, sunglasses hanging from the neck of his tee and a smile on his boney face. “Happy birthday, bossman!” he replied, punching Murdoc’s shoulder (he was strong for such a scrawny guy; it hurt). “Fifty-three, bet you never expected to make it that far, huh?” “That’ putting it mildly,” he responded, but he smiled, and he knew that of all people, Ace felt no discomfort with the cryptic humor. “Now can I go back to sleep, or did you want to sing that insipid birthday song to me?” “Actually,” Ace ducked forward to look over Murdoc’s shoulder, then back the way that he had come up the stairs to make sure they were alone. “I wanted to give you a little something. Something the rest of the crew might not appreciate too much, if you catch my drift.” “Gang stuff?” Murdoc asked, perking up and feeling awake for the first time. “Is it drugs?” “No!” the younger man snorted. “You know I don’t do that shit no more. Now hold out your hand.” Murdoc agreed, expression suspicious as Ace reached into his back pocket. A moment later, he dropped something cool and heavy into the bassist’s palm. He withdrew his hand and Murdoc’s eyes widened in amazement. “Brass knuckles? The Gentle Green Giant owns a pair of brass knuckles?” “Owned. Want you to have ‘em, boss.” Murdoc slipped them on, impressed at their weight. He’d never worn a pair before, though he’d known plenty of people in his life who’d owned them between his drug-filled youth and many days in prison. “You never used these,” he accused. “Same as your switchblade. It’s all for show.” “Used ‘em exactly once, actually,” he corrected. “Back when I had my crew in Townsville, some junkie came after one of my guys, Lil Arturo. And little Artie was just a kid, see? I had to protect him. I panicked: punched the guy once, twice, saw blood, ran,” he pushed his long black hair behind his ears. “You know I was never really much of a fighter. But these have been used to protect family, and that’s why I want you to have ‘em. After that experience is when I decided to quit the gang shit and pursue music more seriously. And opening for Gorillaz? That was my first official gig that landed me some cash so’z I could turn my life around.” He took a deep breath and pointed at the brass knuckles. “Those’re significant to me. And all you’ve done to let me stay with you guys, even after you came back from the slammer, well…it’s been significant to me too…” Murdoc could see that Ace was becoming emotional, and though there was a day where he would have laughed at the younger man, he instead placed a hand on his shoulder. “Pretty cool gift, I must admit. Not as great as some blow, but it’ll do.” “They’re not for violence, got it?” Ace looked at him seriously. “They’re symbolic. Using those things changed me, set the course of my life in a new direction!” “Right, right, great life changes and all that, got it, Ace,” he looked into the younger man’s eyes. “You’re uh, you’re all right. For a ‘guido’.” “I’m the one who taught you that word!” Ace snapped, misty eyes suddenly fiery with anger. “You don’t get to call me that! That’s practically a slur, you know!” “Right, riiight, if this little heart-to-heart is over,” he replied, “I’m going to go get some breakfast.” “It’s past noon. That’s lunch, you stupid old man.” “Youth is wasted on the young,” he replied, but he made sure that Ace saw him slip the brass knuckles into his pocket, a new treasure to keep close at all times. In the kitchen he was greeted first by the strong smell of frying bacon, and then by Russel standing at the stove, spatula in hand. “You’re normally up earlier’n this, Russ,” Murdoc commented, eyeing the sizzling bacon with interest. “Everything all right?” “I’ve been up, Muds. This is for you.” “What? A man turns fifty-three and suddenly everyone learns how they should have been treating him all along, huh? I quite like this worship.” “Don’t push your luck. But there’s beans in the microwave; get those out and grab a plate.” “Russel, I could kiss you.” “I can smell your breath from over here, man; you’d better not even think about it.” Murdoc cackled and did as he was told, fetching a plate and finding a Pyrex container of baked beans warmed in the microwave for him. As he spooned some onto his plate, Russel came over with the frying pan, offering him several slices of one of his favorite foods. “Bon appétit.” “Now you wouldn’t happen to have gone the extra step and made—” Russel turned back to the countertop and grabbed two mugs of coffee, sliding one over to the bassist. It was his favorite mug no less: one that had been sent to Stu from someone alleging to be his child, a tired ‘World’s Best Dad’ print across it either a deluded or a very ironic statement. They’d never determined which. While Stu had begged to throw it out, Murdoc had adopted it with glee, smirking every time the singer glared at him for using it. The drummer had a cup himself as well, and they each took a sip, nodding in approval at the taste. Russel had always been of the philosophy that no one should have to eat a meal alone, so he kept the bassist company as he ate, a comfortable silence falling, interrupted only by the sound of silverware scraping the porcelain plate. “We’re getting old,” Russel finally said, watching Murdoc push his plate away with finality although he hadn’t cleared it. His appetite, which had never been big, was even smaller these days. “Yeah, well, not like we’re slowing down,” he countered. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Not when there’s still so much left to do. I mean, you’ve got that bloody non-profit for immigrant kids who want to learn tambourine or whatever.” He pulled a face. “Crass, Murdoc, very crass. But yeah, I have a lot of work cut out for me with the Kids with Drums foundation. I was also thinking that we still have a lot more music to create.” Murdoc paused, clicking his teeth against the ceramic rim of the mug. It was the first time that Russel had been the one to propose more music. “You thinking another album, big boy? Gorillaz or…solo?” Russel smiled enigmatically. “I’m thinking sky’s the limit. But hey, I have a lot to do before tonight’s big dinner, so I’ll leave you to your coffee.” He rapped his knuckles against the table and pushed himself up to leave. “Oi, Russ?” He paused, mid-stride. “Yeah?” Murdoc poked at the remaining beans on his plate with a fork, watching them slide through bacon grease. “You’re the only one in this bloody house who isn’t afraid to fry this shit to a crisp. Well done.” The drummer shook his head. “See you later, asshole.” Once he’d finished his coffee, the bassist carried his dishes to the sink, looking out the small window and into the backyard. First Ace talking about the past and how he’d changed careers, then Russel being all vague about making new music. It felt like they were giving him subtle warnings of change to come, and the bassist felt apprehension begin to coil in his gut. They were offering clues to him, clues that seemed to suggest change. He wasn’t ready to retire yet, and it wasn’t until he dropped his mug into the sink, causing a harsh clatter, that he realized his hands had begun to shake. “Snap out of if Niccals,” he muttered. He was jumping to conclusions, that was all. He hoped. He double checked that the mug had not cracked, and, satisfied, left the dirty dishes for someone else to take care of. He made his way to the screen door in the back of their house, hoping a smoke would calm his nerves. Before he could make it outside, a pair of arms wrapped around his middle from behind and he jumped slightly. “Happy birthday, Dad.” “I appreciate the sentiment, luv, but you only call me that about twice a year.” “Christmas and birthdays, right?” The guitarist asked, squeezing him just slightly, reminding him that in spite of her small stature, she was strong enough to snap him in half if she wanted to. “Proper submarine daughter you are, popping up to show face then disappearing again for six months. Relax, I haven’t written you out of the inheritance yet.” She laughed and turned him around to hug him properly. “Your breath stinks.” “So I’ve been told,” he said with a shrug. “If you think I’m going to brush my teeth on my birthday you’ve got another thing coming. Live with it.” She pretended to gag, but grabbed his wrist, placing something small and metal in it with a simple “here’s your gift.” He looked down to see a house key and again, a wave of nervous energy hit him. “You changed the locks?” he looked at her. “Noods, what happened? Everything okay?” “I can’t tell you all the details; it’s not my story to tell,” she replied, patting his arm. “But don’t worry. I promise you’ll be happy when you hear the whole story. Just don’t lose this key, okay? I have no patience for you tapping on windows asking me to let you in at four in the morning after a night of revelry.” “That only happened once or twice!” he cried in indignation. “Once or twice that you can remember,” she corrected, crossing her arms over her chest. “Happened way more than that. Lucky for you, I forgive you for disturbing my beauty sleep.” “Very generous of you,” he said, pulling out a pack of Lucky Lungs and placing one between his lips, offering her one as well. He really didn’t love that she smoked, but he knew there was no stopping Noodle from doing what she wanted to do. “I’m good,” she replied, holding up a hand. “Care for some company, or was this Murdoc Meditation Hour?” “Was actually looking to sort my thoughts out if it’s all the same to you,” he answered, nodding towards the door. No need to risk slipping up and showing the poor girl how unsettled he was on a day that was supposed to be happy. “Seems that everything is starting to change, have you noticed?” “Change doesn’t have to be bad, Murdoc. Issun saki wa yami. You’ve got the support: whatever comes your way, it will be kind.” “No idea what you just said, but it sounds nice. Thanks, pet.” “Looking forward to dinner tonight,” she said brightly, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. “Don’t make yourself sick with cancer sticks: the restaurant is supposed to have amazing desserts.” “I don’t—” “Desserts so good even you will like them!” she corrected herself as she headed back upstairs, presumably to find her partner in crime, Ace. Murdoc sighed and headed outside, enjoying the warmth as the sun broke free from the clouds for a moment. He took a seat on one of the aged folding chairs on the patio, lighting his cigarette and trying to control his thoughts. Something was coming, and he was terrified. Even more upsetting than the promise of unwelcome change however was the fact that he hadn’t once been able to speak the words he wanted to say. To Ace, to Russel, to Noodle. They’d all spent time with him, they’d all been so kind. This time last year, he’d been certain that his moments of fame had ended. Alone in prison and with no contact from his mates, he’d listened despondently as news came through that Gorillaz were producing a new album without him, and he’d smuggled in enough technology to be able to watch in real time as many fans took to social media, celebrating the band’s new bassist and suggesting it was a new era for Gorillaz. A better era. Murdoc shuddered at the memory of his cot in prison, of the time spent reflecting on how quickly the world seemed to forget about him. He’d thought frequently of his father, who had died alone and miserable in his home in Stoke, no one to mourn him, no one to express sympathy for his passing. He’d been so certain that he was destined for the same fate, and that he’d been delusional to hope for a better outcome. Murdoc stubbed out his first cigarette, having smoked it down in record speed. He lit a new one, eyes fixed on the grass sprouting up between cracks in the patio. Stop it, he willed himself. Stop working yourself up. You have to put on a show for the others in a couple of hours. For the love of Satan get it together! The sound of the screen door shuttering open and closed startled him from his thoughts, and he heard someone approaching him. He recognized the ungainly gait by sound alone instantly and searched his anxiety-rattled brain for a dry comment to make. Stuart beat him to it, singing softly, looking ahead at the backyard rather than at his boyfriend. “Why you rolling waves over me now, that’s all I need, dreaming,
waiting on a lover, come find me, be forgiven.” Of course. That bloody song. The most overt declaration of love that the singer had ever offered him, the one that had signaled to Murdoc that their relationship was not irreparable. A fucking beacon of hope when he’d been at such a low point in prison. The bassist drew his lower lip between his teeth and stared doggedly ahead, not wanting to break down although he felt his walls crumbling under the soothing sound of his lover’s voice. “I’ll be a regular guy for you, I never said I’d do that,
why you looking so beautiful to me now when you’re so sad?” Stu turned to look at him as he sang, and although he still didn’t look at the singer, Murdoc felt his eyes grow damp, felt the wetness hanging on his lower lashes, threatening to spill over his cheek. Pathetic. “I will always think about you.
That’s why I’m calling you back
on my way through. I wanna stay with you for a long time, I wanna be your stone, love. 
I wanna see it lay in your eyes when I’m leaving with your love. I will always think about you.
That’s why I’m calling you back
on my way through.” Murdoc sighed, exhaled gray smoke through his nostrils. This man was going to be the death of him, really. He was simply too perfect. “Why you looking sad to me now, on the day of your birth, luv?” he asked, wording it so he could maintain his cadence. “Enough with the damn singing mate.” He grit out, relieved when his voice didn’t crack or waver. “Seriously, answer the question.” Stu replied. “What can I say? Your voice is so angelic it moves me to tears every time.” “Bullshit,” Stuart reached over and plucked the cigarette from between his fingers, taking a puff for himself. “Muds, you were fine this morning. What’s wrong?” The bassist took a deep breath and blinked rapidly until he felt certain he wasn’t going to loose any tears. “Just, feel like a lot is happening these days. Between you and me, I think Ace is getting ready to move on from the band.” Stuart handed him back his cigarette and furrowed his brow. “That makes no sense. He’s signed a contract to remain a studio musician for us for the next few years. I think he’s happy here. Don’t think he’s going to be leaving anytime soon.” The bassist shrugged. “Just a sneaking suspicion. He opened up a bit to me this morning and was being extra nice. And Russel too!” The singer actually snorted at that. “You think Russ is leaving too? What, he and Ace gonna start a new band?” “Mate, I don’t know, but he was being all friendly and chatty with me too. The man is up to something. These Americans, I swear to Satan they’re hard to understand.” “That’s why you were out here sulking? You’re afraid we’re all drifting apart?” The younger man took his boyfriend’s hand, laced their fingers together in the way that always made Murdoc melt a little. “I think you’re just assuming the worst.” “Even Noodle was acting off. She gave me a new house key. You know anything about that, by the way? Why’d she have to have our locks changed?” “She didn’t change the locks on the door.” “Then why this key?!” he snapped, reaching into his pocket and showing it to the singer. Stu looked at it, then looked at his high-strung bandmate. “Muds, why don’t you come inside?” he suggested. “Sure you don’t want to break up with me first, just to keep things fresh?” “Don’t joke like that,” he said sternly, standing up and offering his hand out to the older man, who took it, allowing himself to be pulled up and into a hug. “Murdoc, babe. It’s okay.” “I’m just mental, aren’t I?” he asked. “I feel like a bloody spring about to snap and I don’t know why!” “I think there’s reasons why you might be upset,” the singer argued. “You’ve got a lot of bad memories from last summer. We all know how susceptible you are to PTSD. Are you nervous because this time last year you were alone?” The connection made perfect sense as soon as the singer said it, and Murdoc felt like an ass instantly. “That’s it!” he practically shouted at the poor singer. “That’s why I’ve been so off. My brain is doing that fucking thing that it does. Shit, I’m such a mess!” “Hey, I’ve told you to be kinder to yourself,” the taller man chastised. He had a habit of talking like a therapist sometimes, the result of all the therapy sessions he’d attended. At first it had been annoying, but sometimes Murdoc secretly felt safe in the knowledge that Stu could help him navigate his mind a little bit. “You’re not a mess. You’ve had a tough year. That’s part of why we’re going to celebrate tonight,” he paused to kiss Murdoc with no warning, and the bassist gasped against his mouth in shock. “Gonna spoil you rotten,” he promised gently. “I…” Emotion was flooding through Murdoc’s system once again, but this time, he didn’t feel as panicked. He needed to speak, needed to say what he’d been meaning to say all day. “Oi, old man,” Stu interrupted him, “have I told you today that I love you? Because I do, you know. More and more every day.” “Thank you,” Murdoc garbled. It was somewhere between a prayer and a sob. “Thank you, Stu.” “Of course,” he murmured, stroking the older man’s bangs out of his eyes. “Murdoc. Let’s go inside now, okay?” The bassist allowed himself to be led back inside, his hand gripping the singer’s so tight it had to hurt a little, but Stu didn’t complain. In the living room, he found the other three, Noodle and Ace both splayed out on the couch, occasionally holding up their phones to show the other memes. Russel sat back in his recliner, smiling when the two came in. “There’s the birthday boy.” “All hail,” Ace commented without looking up from his phone. “Har har,” Murdoc responded. “So let’s cut to the chase: is it terminal? Will I live, doctors?” He tried to keep his voice light as he joked, but his hands had begun to shake again, and he could feel Stu’s fingers tighten around his even more, a silent I’m here. “Yeah, we’ve got a big surprise for you,” Noodle said, sitting up straight. “In case you were too dumb to figure it out, the key I gave you isn’t for this house.” “It’s for our new one,” Stu said, letting go of Murdoc’s hand so he could instead wrap an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. “Our what now?” “Rumor has it that back around 2007, Kong Studios burned down under ‘mysterious circumstances,’” Russel said. “And knowing a thing or two about criminal activity, I can confirm that that’s code for arson,” Ace quipped. “You cashed in on the insurance money and produced an album,” Noodle continued coolly, and Murdoc tensed at the allusion to Plastic Beach. “And due to its history of zombie invasions, shitty weather, and a whole lot of burned garbage left after Kong was melted down, local governance has had an unbelievably hard time selling that chunk of land that you abandoned.” “So recently, I had this idea, and I think you’re smart enough to fill in the rest.” Stu finished, pressing a kiss to his temple. Everything clicked, and a shiver of excitement ran up Murdoc’s spine. “You mean to tell me you’ve bought the property? The hill in Essex? It’s ours?” “Oh Murdoc, don’t sell me short,” the singer said with a pout. “Not just the land. I spoke to EMI. Well, they want me to call them Parlophone, but it’s EMI, right? They wouldn’t grant me a pence without some sort of contract, so I’ve agreed to their terms. Something in the ballpark of six tours and two albums over the next eight years or something. Pretty manageable by our standards, frankly. Some merch, here and there. I’ll leave that up mostly to Noodle and Ace since they know what the kids like.” “EMI gave us money for this?” Murdoc clarified, feeling dizzy with the news. “Murdoc, darling, they’ve built us a new studio,” he said gently. “We’re going back to England, and we’re going to do amazing things there.” “That key I gave you,” Noodle said. “It’s for our new home. Just like at Kong. It’ll be our living space as well as our music space. We need to make up for the year we lost without you and El Diablo.” “Holy shit…” he reached into his pocket for his Lucky Lungs, only to realize that he’d left them in the backyard. With nothing for his hands to do he could only tremble, too overwhelmed to meet his bandmates’ eyes. “This is too good to be true.” “It’s true,” Stu promised, hugging him tight, doing all he could to comfort him physically. “Happy Birthday, Murdoc. Ready to start the next phase of our lives together?” “Y-yeah, alright,” he agreed, voice watery. “We’re going to get it right this time,” the singer assured. “We’re gonna go back to where it all began.” “We’re ready to crash the music scene with you once again, boss,” Ace promised. “I’ll be there to help out, but this band needs their number one bassist back.” “The goal is to move back by the end of the summer as long as you’re okay with it,” Russel explained. “That way you have time to pack and say goodbyes. And maybe start writing down new ideas so we can hit the ground running.” “Are you happy?” Noodle asked, seeing the bassist’s tense body language. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I think he’s a little overwhelmed,” Stu explained, stroking the older man’s hair. “Give us a minute?” “We were here first—” Ace started, but Noodle smacked his arm and they both rose to leave the house. “Fine, fine! We’ll go. By the way, check out Twitter and Insta, Muds. Hundreds of hits from fans drawing you in your skivvies with cake. It’s hilarious!” “We’ll be back in a few hours to get ready for the dinner reservation,” Noodle promised, shoving the American out the front door and blowing a kiss. “I’m gonna take a walk around the block,” Russel said, patting the bassist’s shoulder as he passed them. “Start mentally preparing to say goodbye to America again.” The front door clattered and the two were left alone, Stu’s hand still smoothing the bassist’s hair as Murdoc took deep breaths to keep himself calm. “Too much?” The singer asked once he was sure they had privacy. “No! This is…this was all…” Murdoc waved his hands, lost for words. “I can’t understand why you lot would do all this for me.” “I mean, it’s really for the whole band,” Stu reasoned. “We wanted it to be a surprise for you though. Because you’re a vital part of the band, and we want you to know that. I know you doubted it, even if you don’t ever admit that out loud. I hope this proves how serious we are about keeping you in Gorillaz, Muds. The reason they were all so nice to you on your birthday…it’s because they all care about you, same as me.” The older man smiled up at him. “I guess I should have thought of that,” he admitted quietly. “But! I can’t believe we get to go back to the place that started it all. Out of the ashes, Gorillaz will rise again like a bloody phoenix!” “Like from Harry Potter?” He was able to laugh now, leaning up to kiss Stu in all his quirky glory. “I’m ready to start again, do it right this time. With my soul mate.” The singer’s cheeks turned pink instantly. “I love when you call me that.” “Yeah,” he stole another kiss. “I know.” “Hey, give me one more! That was too fast!” So Murdoc smiled, wrapping his arms around the singer’s waist and pulling him in for a slower, deeper kiss. “It’s like the song goes,” Stu whispered, arms wrapping around the bassist’s shoulders. “I’m calling you back.” “But what came first, your grand plan to rebuild Kong, or Souk Eye?” They both laughed, giddy with the prospect of a fresh start, of more music. Of more time to learn to say the things they’d been feeling for many, many years.

#2doc #2docweek #2docweek2019 #day6 murdoc's birthday #2doc fanfiction #KAIRU IS SO TALENTED GO TELL HER SHE IS AMAZING PLS

[abyssal-lix]

hey hey love your writing!! so i’ve been listening to bad guy by billie eilish and oof it’s got me feeling some type of way... + i was wondering if you could give it a listen and write something about trying to take the dom postion from jun, seokmin, or seungcheol (or whoever you can picture the best tbh bc i’m here for all the boys) after an awards show party where you get him riled up after he says something a little offhand about you to the guys. thank you!!!

this honestly took me forever, like i had a vibe from the song but i struggled to fit that into a concept i could just write, so i used a few other songs like nao’s trophy, gorillaz charger bc they give me dom!female vibes. so hopefully, i got it right.

warning: this includes consentual violence (basically jun likes being shoved against the floor and slapped and things like that) and there is talks and usage of a color system.  

the comment was something flippant, not something one should even think about for more than a few seconds. yet for some reason, it seemed to annoy you as you sat besides jun, watching as the boys laughed along in unison at the remark made on your offense.

you brushed it off until the two of you were alone, slipping out of lavish outfits into ones of comfort and wiping off your make-up that you felt junhui pressing himself against your back.

“babe, please-” he murmured against the crook of your neck mouthing there in a shy way of telling you he wanted more.

you scoff, eyes rolling until you can take a few steps away, strutting until your standing closer to the bed. “after what you said to the boys during the award show? i think not dollface.”

he couldn’t help but follow you closely his hands settling on your waist before he was running his hands over your form casually, trying to push you over the edge. yet you only stared at him blankly, “junhui, no,” a small grumble emerged from his throat as he let a pout encompass his lips.

he stumbled over his actions, so used to you melting at his touches yet you remained firm, pushing back against him. his eyes lowered for a moment.

“want me to say sorry? because i am sorry, i shouldn’t have joked like that, it was harsh of me,” he whispered dipping his head down to nuzzle it against your collarbones.

“sorry doesn’t cut that darling, show me how sorry you are, junhui.” 

his gaze was strong with a hint of defiance in them. your eyes narrow harshly until his eyes lower from yours. “knees.” watching as junhui scrambles from his standing position until he was settled on his knees, hands splayed out against his thighs. 

placing your foot lightly against his sternum, it took little force until he was sent crashing into the floor of your shared bedroom. “again, knees.” he eased back onto his knees. “good job junnie.” again, you sent him back against the wood floor, he stared at you with his pupils blown wide, dragging deep breaths through his lungs. “color?”

“green, please, keep going,” he begged desperately getting back on his knees without being asked. 

your head cocks to the left, smirk upturning the corners of your lips. it takes only a moment for your hand to come down across his cheek with a solid slap. barely giving him a chance to recuperate before slapping his opposite cheek. 

“i didn’t like listening to you joke around about me to your friends, wasn’t very nice of you. i thought junnie was a good boy, but i guess i was wrong…” you muse watching as he can only stare up at you before beginning to stumble over his apology while begging you to get him off. 

“desperate slutty boys don’t deserve to cum, should’ve thought about that before you talked about me to the boys.” 

you murmur as you begin to leave him sitting on his knees cheeks red and warm. entering the bathroom, you get a small washcloth wetting it with cold water from the tap before bringing it back to him. you kneel for a moment before him pressing the cloth to his cheeks to cool them down and to give him some relief from the sting. you help him up from his knees, getting him on the bed where you stay level with him to minimize any sort of power dynamic. you press a small kiss to his forehead. with a quick check for injuries, you ask him if he hit his head against the floor and he shakes his head no. you ruffle his hair a bit before snuggling with him. 

#ask #request #junhui #jun #junhui smut #jun smut #junhui blurbs #jun blurbs #jun imagines #junhui imagines #svt #seventeen #svt blurbs #svt sm #svt imagines #seventeen blurbs #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #wen junhui smut #wen junhui #svt junhui #junhui texts #junhui fics #kpop smut #kpop blurbs #kpop imagines #yanhaohui #greenmetalroof

[snobgoblin]

Will next gen be a comic or something of the sort? (I realise if just sent a different ask a second ago but I’ve had this on my mind for a while)

I dunno yet! it's mostly just an au I talk about, maybe ill make some interviews with the characters but that went horribly last time, you know something I've always liked about Gorillaz is you don't have to show so much as you just tell, so I'm just happy doing that. but if it's comics you want, I've made a handful (I hope these links work right

Flower Angst

Haha Gaslighting Murdoc

Noodle launches Ace across the ocean for bullying Tucker Yes Clickbait

Barb Angst

Skinny Y2K jumpscare but messing with Cyborg Tuckers functionalities

ok there are more but they're old and out of character with outdated designs so I won't link them (the art gets worse as you go down the list btw)

basically Next Gen is conveyed in whatever medium I think is best for the thing I'm trying to convey in the moment u know what I mean. next gen is like a terrarium in my brain im just telling u guys what's going on in there not to sound pretentious u know

#yeah every time ive tried to sit down and make a comic for my aus thats been a death sentence i never stick with it #daftydill #asks #gorillaz next gen

[mahreemari]

mari’s collection of perfectly safe 2nu goodness

collection of safe 2nu fics i filtered through both ffn and ao3 to find. will be a total of four to five separate postings. first will be completed works on ffn, ao3, and then the incomplete works in the same posting order. 

if i made a mistake, please notify me asap so i can fix the list, i tried my best but i’m just one person and something might slip my eye by accident. at the same time, if there is a fic that i missed, please let me know so i can add it! as well as new publications. suggestions to improve the list are appreciated. 

noodle must be 19/20 minimal during the romance period in order for the fic to be included. any underage is prohibited. 

here are all the completed works from ffn:

Rated K/K+:

Behind the Mask – Rated K+ –  After a four-year absence, Noodle has finally returned but what is she hiding behind the mask she wears? 2DxNoodle

Black Eyes, Blue Hair – Rated K+ – Noodle's view on her blue haired bandmate. Rated K

Blue Haired, Green Eyed Freak – Rated K+ –  Murdoc may have gone too far. He has made a clone, named Natalie, using 2D and Noodle's DNA, and it's convinced it's their daughter. 2DxNoodle pairing. Be gentle, my first Gorillaz fic. Please read! COMPLETE.

Early Conversations – Rated K – Just a short story that came from I and Cooliochick5 RP. Noodle is six months pregnant and wakes up finding 2D talking to their unborn child. Pure fluffiness!

English Rose – Rated K – "You know very early on where you belong and who you're meant to be with, 'D. That's not something that can ever change. Those people and places will always come back." 2nu.

Far, Far Away – Rated K+ – For a while, both 2D and Noodle have been sad, have been in pain...but finally, after being reunited on Plastic Beach, Noodle confesses to 2D what she's been thinking about for a long, long time...

Nightmare – Rated K+ – Noodle's had another nightmare. And this time, she's made herself bleed. A bit of a 2DxNoodle, but more brother/sister. First 2Nu fic! Noodle's POV

The Steadfast Black-eyed Soldier – Rated K – Some sort of the re-telling of the 1976s cartoon "The Steadfast Tin Soldier", but with "Gorillaz" characters on the roles.

unconventional – Rated K+ – For a couple years and a half, they lived in Honeymoon Avenue until Noodle had to leave again. Almost five years later, she's close to accomplish her mission and more than ready to go home. / An "end of phase 4" family reunion.

You Are My Medicine – Rated K – 2D always needed his pills to take care of his migraines. But someone can also take the migraines away from him too.

Your the Best Present – Rated K – It's 2D's birthday! And of course 2D forgets that it is his birthday. But Noodle is also sad about something. Sorry, summary sucks.

Rated T:

A Midsummer's Wedding – Rated T – Noodle is getting married... but not to 2D. And he's not taking it very well, poor guy.

A Step Too Far – Rated T – Noodle catches the end of an argument between 2D and Murdoc. One that ends with 2D punching Murdoc and in trying to figure out what happened she learns of Paula. Confronting 2D about it seems like the only way to get answers even if they lead to an unexpected ending.

Bleeding Out – Rated T – "FACEACHE! Faceache, holy shit!" Murdoc yelled, pulling him from his bunker to the lift. "What? What's going on?" 2D squeaked, following the bassist. "It's- It's Noodle! Somethin' ain't right with her!" (2nu-centric, but not actually 2nu.)

Blimey, You're TwentyOne Already! – Rated T – It's Noodle's birthday and she has a special request. What on earth is 2D going to do?

En Route to the Vending Machine – Rated T – En Route to the Vending Machine that I'm Pretty Sure Doesn't Even Exist. Yep. That's all.

Fisticuffs And Frozen Peas – Rated T – Murdoc Niccals has the innate ability to get on the wrong side of everyone. Picking a fight is just the way he communicates. But picking a fight with Noodle? that's a different story. Contains some 2DxNoodle fluff, Oneshot. R&R xX

Gravity – Rated T – Oneshot. 6 years have passed since the release of Plastic Beach and the band reunited. Everything is going great and the Gorillaz are enjoying being together again as they prepare to release their new album. But what happens when 2D finds a letter to him inviting him to Paula's funeral? What will he find when he gets there? And more importantly, what had Paula been hiding from him?

I Promise – Rated T – It wasn't until 2D's head began to feel extremely light, and his eyes rolled back until he realized what he was doing, but there was no turning back now. Warning: Suicide Attempt and Aftermath

Just Say The Words – Rated T – 2D has a special surprise planned for his beloved Noodle and something to ask her. But it seems that he just can't find the time or place to tell her.

Louder Than Words – Rated T – '...They both felt safe and happy with each other...But now she was feeling an old worry tug at her mind's corners again…' The small trials and triumphs of a new relationship. 2DxNoodle. One shot, rated due to mild fluff.

May 23, 2011 – Rated T – Her presence in this stoic world he'd created sent him into an emotional spiral that brought about the worst of his migraines. The emotional detachment he'd grown fond of now mocked him, & he was forced to hold his tongue because it was too hard to speak.

May 23rd – Rated T – It's 2-D's birthday, but no one remembers, well, almost no one.

Melancholy Hill No More – Rated T – Noodle had always been good at finding 2D's secret spots... 2DxNoodle

Memories and Chocolate Pudding – Rated T – A short story I wrote as a request from a friend. She wanted a cute story that had to do with Phase 1 Noodle and 2D, something brother and sister like. Of course I added my own 2DxNoodle touch in the end. 10 years later of course. ; Enjoy.

No Rain – Rated T – If Noodle stays with him, then he's really gonna have it made! 2DxNoodle Song Fic.

Nursing a Flu – Rated T – 2D is sick, but he has a certain guitarist to take care of him.

Plastic Beach: Phase Three – Rated T – A 22 page story we had to type for my English class. It could be about anything we wanted so I chose this. 2DxNoodle.

Something's Up at the Spirit House – Rated T – Something is very wrong with the Gorillaz new home, and it's driving 2D mad. Will he and his bandmates be able to handle the mysterious forces at work at Saturnz Barz? A story to tie together the music videos and events of phase 4. Will be a little silly, a little eerie, and contain a dash of 2/nu.

The Meaning Of - Salt Skin Drafts – Rated T - A series of one-shots revolving around 2D and Noodle and the growth of their relationship between phases 2 and 3. Would-be continuations to my discontinued story Salt Skin. Friendship/Eventual Pairing.

Ups and Downs – Rated T – Noodle and 2-D both have strong feelings for eachother, but can there relationship take the challenges life throws at them? 2-DxNoodle COMPLETE!.

When You’re Close to Me – Rated T – Noodle has returned home to her boys, and is ready to face the feelings she'd had while away.

Rated M:

A Look I Used To Know – Rated M – He bit his lip as his eyes returned to her, studying her unsure movements while she tried to ignore his presence as he watched her. He felt his heart ache as she stood to her feet, the dejection in her body unclear to most was a scream in Stuart's ears...

A Simple Understanding – Rated M – Their grief was eating away at them, but all it took to save them was a simple understanding of feelings. 2DXN

Another Story – Rated M – This is not based in kong nor plastic beach. In fact this is just based between 2D and Noodle. Russel and Murdoc are mentioned but not by name. Please read and review!

Awake – Rated M – After a night out, 2-D awakes with a familiar face next to him, and very little memory of what happened the night before. A 2Nu fic. Rated M for strong language and sexual content.

Confessions – Rated M – 2D wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk threatening to break out. "Yeh think yeh better than meh?" Noodle scoffed. "Of course I am, 2D, I could beat you at any game you throw at me." She tried to ignore the fact that he had edged much closer that he was previously sitting. "Well," 2D breathed. Noodle swore she could feel his breath tickling her face. "Wah 'bout this one?" STRONG LANGUAGE

Just Passing Through – Rated M – A reunion between two band members after four years apart. 2DxNoodle. Rated M

Plastic Beach Romancing – Rated M – 1st fanfic ever! Yay. Everyone from the Gorillaz. So Noodle makes it to Plastic Beach and finds 2D just before he overdoses. I'd love to get comments please. Noodlex2D! 3

Reuniting – Rated M – To make matters worse, somehow, some way without Noodle's consent or knowledge, the three men had thought it would be amazing to vacation in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, while staying in a log cabin of all things. This is a gift fic for WreckTangle. Rated M for sex...you've been warned. 2DxNoodle. O.o

She's My Collar – Rated M – Noodle and 2D have a secret that they feel has been kept long enough. They want to figure out a way to tell the others and come up with something rather creative. When Russel and Murdoc hear the lyrics to "She's my Collar" for the first time what will their reaction be? Can 2D and Noodle defend themselves or will their secret affair become just a memory? Rated M.

That One Day – Rated M – This fan fic has the song "Girl Gone Wild" in it by Madonna because it fits the plot lol. There is also an outside character by the name of Marcus that is mentioned. Rated M for lots of sexual scenes lol. Enjoy!

The Rube Goldberg Effect – Rated M – Poll winner! 2D has fallen asleep on Plastic Beach. His back now lobster red, he's in desperate need of relief. A hot summer day, a sunbite, a bottle of Aloe, and a bathing suit covered body. So what's Noodle have to do with this?... Aloe can be fun, too

#gorillaz #2d gorillaz #noodle gorillaz #2nu #2nu athenaeum #fanfiction

[our-smooty]

If It Ain’t Broke

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Mature

Relationships: None

Tags: suicidal thoughts, self harm, drugs and alcohol

Summary: 4 times Murdoc needed help and the one time he accepted it

Murdoc held the lighter to his skin, watching the flame burn. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have thanks to the copious amount of alcohol and speed in his system. Honestly, he was a little disappointed; the pain was one of the best parts. Quite quickly a reddened spot appeared, getting worse and worse until the Satanist couldn’t stand the heat any longer. What was left after he flicked the lighter closed was an anger blister, one of numerous on that arm.

FuckingDisgustingAddictPoserPieceOfShitNoOneWouldCareIfYou--

A rapid, loud banging on the washroom door broke him out of his trance. He’s nearly forgotten where he was.

“Hey asshole!” someone called through the wood. “People are waiting out here!”

Murdoc swore gruffly. “Piss off! Go find another shitter. We’ve got lots of them!” Why had he thought throwing a house party was a good idea? Now it sounded like the guy outside was kicking the door. The bassist really didn’t have the energy to deal with this, though that could be fixed with a bump of speed.

He let the idiot keep smashing on the door as he got his fix and cleaned himself up. Pulling down the sleeves of his grey shirt and fiddling with the lock, Murdoc swung the door inward. The dullard on the other side was mid-kick, and the sudden removal of the door caused him to stumble forward onto the bathroom floor. Murdoc cackled.

“Serves you right,” he snarked, stepping over the fallen man and out into the hallway. The others in line for the loo were quiet now that they realized who had occupied it. The bassist leered at partygoers as he passed, stalking off to the living room where he knew his bandmates would be.

“Murdoc!” 2D cried as he walked through the doorway. The singer had a bird under each arm and a joint in hand as he lounged on the sofa. Russel was sitting at the--normally cluttered-dining room table playing cards with a group. Noodle was nowhere to be seen, though that wasn’t surprising, given that she was only 10 years old and the house was full of drugs and other illicit activities.

Murdoc didn’t answer the kid, choosing instead to head straight to the liquor cabinet and grab a bottle of whiskey. His high from the speed was kicking into gear and his knees were shaking, though he never would have admitted it out loud. Instead, he slunk over to the other couch and sat slouched into the peeling leather.

“Where’d you go, Muds. We missed you!” Satan did the singer ever shut up? Now he had the girls cooing and tittering over in his direction. Normally he would have slid over and stolen the birds from the other, but his heart just wast in it tonight.

“None of your sodding business,” he snapped, swigging from the bottle. 2D continued to smile--the simpleton probably didn’t even know he’d been insulted. Murdoc watched him go right back to chatting with the ladies without a care in the world. His arm burned and he resisted the urge to scratch.

“What crawled up your ass and died?” Russel asked from the table. Murdoc’s nails dug into his palms and the skin under his sleeve throbbed. He felt the familiar heat of rage bubbling up from his stomach into his throat.

“Fuck off lard-arse!” he felt himself screaming. Before he knew it he was throwing the bottle, smashing it against the wall beside the TV. The women on the sofa began to shriek, and 2D jumped up, hands flying all over the place.

“Holy Hell, Murdoc!” he shouted, taking a step towards the bassist, and then back again with his hands outstretched. Murdoc was panting now, though he wasn’t sure why.

Russel stood and set his cards down, motioning to the others at the table to leave, then turned towards Murdoc. “Are we gonna have a problem, Murdoc?”

The drummer was so much bigger than him, and had already proved himself of taking Murdoc down. His nose was a testament to that. But still he was so angry for no reason and his heart was pounding. Maybe a fight would help him calm down. With three quick steps, he was up in the drummer's face, swinging wide.

He didn’t even remember hitting the floor.

“Where is Murdoc?”

Noodle was standing in the center of the studio, guitar plugged in and ready to play. Russel sat behind his drum kit reading a magazine and 2D was fiddling with one of his keyboards in the corner. The only member missing was the bassist.

“Probably still sleepin’,” Russel sighed, flipping the page. Noodle frowned.

“He knew we had practice this morning, yes?” she asked. Stu looked up from his keyboard to nod and shrug.

“I told him, but you know how he is,” he answered. This was so like their oldest member; make promises and then completely flake. She was getting really tired of his attitude.

Noodle threw off her guitar and stomped out the studio door. Neither Russel or 2D tried to stop her, they knew better than to get in her way. She could probably take them both out and barely break a sweat.

The guitarist strode through Kong towards the car park, the heels of her boots clacking loudly. No longer was she the little 10-year old running through the halls. Noodle was a force to be reckoned with now, something that Murdoc would come to learn in a few minutes.

When she got to the carpark it was silent. Normally when Murdoc was in his Winnebago it was filled with the sound of loud music and other debauched activities. It looked like 2D was right when he said the bassist was probably sleeping, though that wouldn’t save him from their youngest members wrath.

“Murdoc!” she shouted, banging on the door with her fist. No sound came from inside, but the door was locked so she knew the bassist was in there. “Murdoc! You are late for our practice!”

There was significant rattling and clanking from inside. The door swung open and Noodle only just had time to step back to avoid getting hit. “Who the fuck is poundin’ on my soddin’ door!”

Murdoc was a mess. As usual, he was mostly naked, though Noodle was eternally grateful he was still wearing underwear. His cape was missing, and he only had one boot on. His normally tidy but greasy mop-top was in disarray, and the bags under his eyes were ten-fold. But that wasn’t what Noodle noticed most.

“Kore wa Nan desu ka? You are injured!” she grabbed at his arms, pulling them forward. There were cuts and burns dotting both of them and covering up old scars. A trickle of fear and concern broke through her previously furious mood.

Murdoc flinched and pulled back, retreating into the Winnebago. Noodle followed him before he could lock the door, stepping over debris and clothing. The bassist was rifling through said clothing for something to cover up with, muttering to himself.

“What are you doin’ here Noodle?” he asked, voice rough as he pulled on a long-sleeve shirt. The injuries disappeared under the cloth, and she had to wonder how she’d never seen his scars before.

“We have band practice,” she answered, watching him. “You promised you would be there.”

Murdoc swore and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit. I forgot.” He was stumbling around now, hopping into a pair of trousers that looked well beyond their lifespan.

“I’ll be there inna minute, Noodle,” he said, still not looking at her as he fumbled around for his other shoe. It was a little sad, and her concern increased.

“Are you alright?” Some of those injuries looked recent and swollen.

“Perfectly fine, Noodle-girl. Jus’ slept in a lil’, that’s all.” He was most certainly lying. He’d opened the door much too quickly for him to have been passed out after a night of drinking. She frowned.

“Do not treat me like a child,” she insisted, striding towards him and grabbing his arm again. “I am not stupid, Murdoc.”

He deflated a little, the fake smile he’d plastered on sliding from his lips. Pants on but not buttoned he sat heavily on the bed, hanging his head.

“I don’t--Can we not talk about this?” he asked, gaze trained on the floor. She knew that he knew what the injuries were, where they’d come from. But she didn’t know what to do about it; for all her eagerness, she was still only a teen. So she sighed and nodded, turning back towards the door.

“Please, be careful,” she asked before walking down the Winne steps. He didn’t say anything as she left. Before swinging the door closed the looked back at him. “Do not worry about practice, we will reschedule.”

When Noodle got back to the studio, 2D and Russel were jamming, riffing off of each other in a lazy sort of way. They stopped when she entered, obviously looking at the doorway behind her. It was obviously empty.

“Did you kill him?” 2D asked, and the warble in his voice gave away that he was only half-kidding. Russel chuckled.

“He will not be joining us today. We will have to practice tomorrow,” Noodle informed them neutrally, moving to put her neglected guitar away. 2D shrugged and started to pack up while Russel tossed his sticks to the side.

“What, was he too drunk to bother showing up?” he asked. Noodle wasn’t sure what to say to either of them. Should she tell them what she saw? Should she keep Murdoc’s secret? It felt like she had half the pieces to a puzzle, with the other half nowhere in sight.

“He is ill,” was what she settled on. For now Noodle would keep Murdoc’s secret, at least until she could figure out what the best thing to do would be.

2D was settling into life on Plastic Beach, if you could call it that. After the first week he discovered that most of the time, Murdoc forgot to lock him in his room or order the Cyborg to do it. So he spent most of his time not recording wandering the island avoiding the foul-tempered bassist.

Sometimes though, he wasn’t so successful. It had been at least two weeks since Murdoc sent the Cyborg for a supply run, and he was getting tired of eating cereal for every meal. They hadn’t been recording anything either, so the singer hadn’t had the chance to ask if and when they’d be getting more of anything. If he wanted to find out, he’d have to seek out the other willingly.

“Uh, Murdoc?” he called, knocking on the other’s bedroom door. Cyborg was nowhere to be seen, which made him uneasy. It was always creeping around making those God-awful mechanical sounds.

When he heard nothing from inside he tried the handle--it was unlocked. Very slowly he pushed the door open just enough for him to stick his head inside. It was dark, as usual, and empty. Plastic Beach wasn’t exactly massive, where could  Murdoc be hiding?

He got his answer in a loud clattering coming from Murdoc’s en-suite bathroom, followed by Cyborgs usual beeps. Taking care to not step on anything important the singer made his way over to the bathroom, peering through the doorway.

Inside Cyborg was standing in front of the tub, an open first aid hit at its feet. On the edge of the tub sat Murdoc, shirtless and bedraggled and most certainly drunk. 2D stared as Cyborg meticulously wrapped one of the bassist’s hands in gauze. His other hand was still unwrapped and sat bloody and bruised in his lap. Had Murdoc gotten into a fight? There was no one else on the island since they’d finished with the last contributor. And fighting didn’t explain the other scratches and scars littering his entire upper body.

“Please give me your other hand, Master,” Cyborg said, placing the wrapped one down. Murdoc winced as he held it up, looking longingly at the half-empty bottle of rum on the floor. As his eyes slid over the rest of the bathroom, his gaze landed on 2D peeking in through the doorway. Stu gulped and stepped back, sure that he was in for a beating.

“That you, Faceache?” Murdoc sounded tired and cranky, never a good sign. 2D could probably outrun him, but then who knew when he’d seen the man again. And he was really, really tired of cereal.

“Y-yeah, it’s me Muds,” he answered, stepping into the bathroom fully. The smell of antiseptic stung his nose. Murdoc swatted the Cyborg away and stood with some effort. He was much drunker than the singer first thought.

“Th’fuck d’you want?” he slurred. 2D had the sinking suspicion that if Murdoc hadn’t been so uselessly drunk he would have been spitting mad.

Hands drawn up and fingers twiddling, 2D warbled, “W-well there’s no food, ‘cept cereal a-and expired milk.”

Murdoc wobbled dangerously, and the Cyborg shot a hand out to support him. A sick feeling ran through the singer as he looked on. Murdoc had been frightening and intense when they lived at Kong, but now he looked like an old, unstable drunk. It was honestly sad, and Stu felt a stab of pity for the other.

“Y-y-you,” Murdoc stuttered, pointing a shaky finger in the singer’s face. “The fuck d-d-’you know?”

2D raised an eyebrow, still wary but not as scared. He could definitely get away from Murdoc right now if he had to; it’d been a long time since he saw the other this drunk. “I think I know when the cupboards are empty, Muds.”

Cyborg took this moment to pipe up. “It has been approximately 15 days since the last supply run.” Murdoc growled

“I knew that, y-you bucket of bolts!” 2D flinched. This wasn’t going at all like he’d imagined. After seeing the bassist in this state, 2D was less worried about supplies and more worried about his health.

“Murdoc, a-are you alrigh’?” he asked, reaching out to put a hand on the Satanist’s arm. Murdoc winced and drew back, nearly falling into the tub.

“I’m fu-fuckin’ fine,” he said, face going pale.  Blood began to drip from his untreated hand. Not two seconds later he was pushing 2D out of the way and retching into the toilet bowl. All that came up was bile and, presumably, alcohol.

“I dunno... you’re hurt an’ you look pretty rough, mate.” Was Murdoc even his mate anymore? He’d beat him and kidnapped him and treated him like shit for years now, but something about seeing the other man so broken made 2D forget most of that. His mother had always said his kind nature would get him into trouble one of these days. “Why don’t you go lay down for a bit?”

“Sod off!” Murdoc shouted, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and staggering to his feet.

2D persisted. “I don’t think that’s a good idea mate…” But Murdoc was angry now, advancing towards the singer with a hard glint in his eye. 2D recognized that look and decided it might be time to make his escape.

“Get the fuck out!” he screamed, making a grab for the singer’s shirt. 2D dodged and scampered out of the room with a small squeak. So much for trying to be nice, or getting more food. It looked like he’d be eating cereal for a while longer.

One of the main perks of being so huge and living on the roof was that Russel had a good amount of privacy from the rest of the band. Minus the occasional car and passerby, it was almost peaceful. Well, at least it usually was.

For the last couple of weeks, at around 3 am every morning, one of his bandmates had started causing a racket. It was mostly thumps and bumps, like someone pounding on the walls, and in general, he could sleep through it, but he was still curious. 2D and Noodle weren’t usually the type to be so discourteous, though sometimes the singer would forget the expected social niceties. Russel had his suspicions that it was Murdoc making all the noise, but he hadn’t been able to catch the man in the act. Until one night.

As usual, the banging began around 3. Unusually, Russel was still awake, having been in the clutches of a transient spell of insomnia for a few days. It was definitely coming from the part of the house where Murdoc’s room was, and this time Russel was determined to tell the older man off. Carefully he leaned down to his bedroom window, using one giant finger to tap on the glass.

“Yo Muds,” he whispered, “what the fuck are you doin’ in there man?”

The banging stopped abruptly, and Russel tried to see inside to locate the other man. It was incredibly dark like the bassist had intentionally removed all the light fixtures from the room. While squinting through the window, the drummer was caught by surprise when Murdoc appeared at the glass, yanking the dirty pane up and open to stick his head out.

“What’re you shouting abou'?” he drawled, the unmistakable stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke leaking from the open window. Russel’s nose crinkled in disgust.

“I’m asking you what the hell you’re doing to make all the noise every night,” he repeated. Murdoc rolled his eyes and took a drag of the smoke he was sucking on.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, Russel.”

The drummer huffed. “Like hell you don’t.”

Murdoc blew his lungful of smoke out the window, and subsequently into Russel’s face with a smirk. “Did I disturb your beauty sleep?”

“Fuck you,” Russel snarled, choosing to return to his rooftop and ignore the disgusting man. As he retreated he could hear Murdoc’s croaky laugh echoing into the night.

But the drummer wasn’t going to give up that easily. Still unable to sleep the next night, he lay and waited for Murdoc to start up again, and like clockwork, the banging began. This time, Russel was quiet about it, leaning down to peek through the window and hopefully catch the other in the act. He looked through the glass, willing his eyes to adjust and see whatever was going on.

Like the night before it was completely dark, but that didn’t stop the drummer. He was patient, waiting until his eyes adjusted enough to be able to see into the room. Inside he could see the piles of trash and other junk that was omnipresent in any space Murdoc stayed in for long. In the far corner, there was a bed covered in lumpy sheets. As Russel watched, the sheets shifted violently, a green arm coming into view for a brief second.

He was about to look away, almost certain he was about to see something he really didn’t want to when he heard a muffled, shout that sounded far from sexual. Suddenly, Murdoc sat up, his arms flailing and bumping into the walls, making a familiar banging noise. Had Murdoc been having nightmares this whole time?

“Sweet Satan!” the bassist screamed upon noticing Russel lurking outside of his window. Russel winced--he really should have seen that coming--and opened the window with one massive finger.

“Uh, hey Muds,” he said, a bit embarrassed to have been caught. “Sorry I scared ya.”

Murdoc had the covers draw up over his chest, eyes wide. He wasn’t even trying to play it cool, Russel had scared him silly. “W-w-what the fuck are y-you doin’ at m-m-my window!?”

“You were thumpin’ around again so I decided to check up on you.” Really he’d wanted to catch the bassist in the act and tell him off, but now that he knew why Murdoc was making so much noise…

“Are you OK man?” Russel asked, watching Murdoc try to quell the shakiness of his limbs. The drummer couldn’t help but feel a little bit worried. Murdoc might have been horrible and rude, but he was still Russel’s friend.

“I’d be a lot be-better without you starin’ i-in my sodding w-window!” The bassist said through chattering teeth. Russel wondered if he should push, or if he should knock on 2D or Noodles window and let them know. But then Murdoc was swinging his legs out of bed and walking towards the window, fist raised and lips drawn back in a snarl. He banged the window shut and drew the curtains with such force one of them ripped off the rod.

Russel didn’t waste time staring at the swaying fabric; if Murdoc wanted to be an asshole, then fine. He huffed and lay back on the roof, staring up at the stars. It wasn’t really his place to be getting into the bassist’s business anyway. Murdoc had made it clear what he thought about the rest of the band.

It was over. He’d made it through the fire to the other side, and he was exhausted. Murdoc had managed to get home to the Spirit House, apologize to the band, and make it safely to his room before breaking down. Finally alone, he crumpled to his knees, ugly but silent sobs bursting from his chest.

Despite the things he’d said online, prison had been absolute hell. He honestly hadn’t thought that he’d make it out alive--and almost didn’t, after his stupid stunt. It might have been worth it to tell the others, to let them know, but every time he tried, he couldn’t get the words out. He’d been close when they’d greeted him with hugs and kind words, so so close. But at the last minute he’d choked up; how do you tell your family about the things that had happened? Story of his life.

But he didn’t want to think of that now. All the awful things he’d done in the past, or had done to him were always in the back of his mind and it was so easy for them to come bubbling out when he was already upset. It was nearly impossible to stop the tears now, and it was getting harder to stay quiet. Shakily, he shoved a knuckle between his teeth, biting down.

He didn’t want to do this anymore, he couldn’t do this, he couldn--

Of course, just as he felt himself shaking apart, there was a quiet knocking at the door. The bassist went stock-still as 2D’s twangy voice filtered in through the wood.

“You in there Murdoc?” he didn’t answer, but the singer didn’t seem put off. “I saw you come up here and I wanted to make sure you were alrigh’.”

Murdoc gasped in an effort to quell his crying and find his voice. Unfortunately, 2D had never been the most curtious person when it came to personal space, and the doorknob was already turning, revealing the singer staring down at Murdoc’s pathetic form.

“Oh uh, what happened?” he asked dumbly. If Murdoc hadn’t been in such a state he would have said something nasty, but as he was all that came out was a choked whine. “Are you hurt?”

He shook his head, finger still jammed between his fangs and dripping blood. 2D finally caught sight of it after the blood began to dribble down the bassist's hand. Immediately, he shot forward, gently pulling the skin away from Murdoc’s grasp and sitting beside him. “Jeeze Muds, don’t hurt yourself.”

Now he had the smaller man’s hand in his, and Stu began running his thumb in comforting circles. “What the matter Murdoc?”

“I-I-I--” He was shaking so bad it nearly looked like convulsions. 2D’s eyes went wide, then softened as he leaned in to slowly wrap an arm around the bassist. It made Murdoc realize how long it’d been since someone actually hugged him.

“Take your time mate, it’s alrigh’,” 2D assured him. Murdoc nodded, though he felt like a complete idiot the entire time. When did he get so soft?

Eventually, he got the shaking under control, mostly thanks to the pressure of Stu’s arm around his shoulders. If he’d been on his own it could have taken hours to calm down, and not without a good bit of alcohol. But 2D was there and warm and familiar in a way Murdoc desperately needed right now, so he let himself be weak just this once.

“Feelin’ better?” the singer asked, giving Murdoc space to shift and get comfortable. Again, he nodded, opening his mouth and taking a deep breath.

“Not really, no.” His voice was wrecked and gruff. “I feel like a total prat.”

“Uh, why?” 2D asked, cocking his head to the side. Murdoc wanted to punch him, but he was afraid he didn’t have the strength to really lift his fist. Instead, he weakly gestured to himself with a sigh.

“Jus’ all of this, s’not d-dignified.” He sniffed and rubbed at how eyes until he saw stars. “Why’d you bother knockin’ if you were jus’ gonna barge in here?”

2D chuckled nervously and shrugged. “I had a gut feelin’ you weren’t doin’ alrigh’ when I saw you downstairs. And then I came up here and your door was locked…” He angled his body toward the bassist, making it clear that the older man wasn’t getting out of this conversation without a fight. “You don’t have to deal with this stuff alone, Muds.”

Murdoc laughed wetly with a grimace. “Y-yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Spare me the--”

“I’m serious!” 2D interrupted. “Murdoc we’ve known each other a lot of years. And we have a lot of history. But we’re still family, and I don’t like t’see you hurtin’. I care about you, you old sod.”

The truthful tone made Murdoc squirm a little. He’d never been very comfortable sharing his emotions with others, but he really was at the end of his rope. Taking another steadying breath to stave off the tightening in his chest, he looked up at 2D.

“I-I-I don’t know how.”

Stu smiled a little, probably glad Murdoc wasn’t screaming in his face. “You could start by tellin’ me what’s got you so worked up, and then we could go back downstairs and watch a movie with Russel and Noodle.”

He could feel the exhaustion in his limbs and behind his eyes. “I-I don’t think-- I’m tired, D.”

“Maybe you should get some rest then, and we can talk tomorrow?” That sounded incredible.

“Y-yeah, that’d be good,” he agreed. 2D got to his feet and held out a hand to the bassist, crouching down a little because of his height. Murdoc thought about getting up on his own, something about the way the singer kept trying to help him made his stomach churn. But he was also so tired, and he didn’t want to keep pretending to be something he wasn’t, so he took Stu’s hand and let himself be pulled up. It felt like making progress, in a weird way.

#gorillaz #fanfic #murdoc niccals #Stuart Pot #Russel Hobbs #noodle #tw suicide #tw DRUGS AND ALCOHOL #tw self harm

[greywindys]

Um

Okay so I’ve been receiving a number of asks about what’s going on with Murdoc in prison, and why the entire prison storyline like, isn’t my favorite. If you were someone who sent an ask along these lines and were wondering wtf happened, I apologize! I haven’t had a lot of time to sit down and write it out, and it’s also not the happiest of topics. Additionally, I feel like I can be downer about most things so, idk...I was putting off talking about it at length. But since I have the day off today...

trigger warnings for discussion of sexual assault and csa.

Starting with the current phase, most of this resurfaced with the Murdoc bot, which references an “unfortunate incident in the showers” Murdoc experiences at the end of the first conversation. I guess you could argue that this could mean anything, however, I put together the sequence of messages and idk, I think it’s pretty clear (read from left column to right column).

Like, ymmv as to the extent of the assault, but like, at the very least this is strongly implying that he was attacked. For additional context - “Soap Sisters” is a reference to the phrase “don’t drop the soap” which is a reference to prison rape (a quick google will give you more history if need be).

So, yeah! Kind of a bummer! And it’s enough of a bummer as a one time thing but they’re like, keeping this narrative running as something that’s a constant presence in his current environment. See this screenshot of an answer from the most recent update:

And this screenshot of the letter from the Free Murdoc package:

And for further history, Murdoc has been subjected to this sort of treatment before when he was in prison in Mexico where he was threatened with becoming “the prison bike.” See this excerpt from Rise of the Ogre:

And finally, though not directly related to his prison experiences but still relevant, Murdoc is a CSA survivor. I think at this point, this is pretty common knowledge but in case you need reference - another Rise of the Ogre screenshot:

So basically, he’s the one character in Gorillaz who’s been subjected to ongoing sexual violence, even before the developments of phase 5. It isn’t discussed very often, but it’s, imo, a significant part of his trauma history and something I consistently consider when writing about him. It also makes it difficult for me to laugh at what he’s going through as “karma” or w/e it is people are saying because that’s like...not an ideal way to think about things for so many reasons? I can’t exactly get on board with the “maybe he’ll learn the error of his ways in prison” line of thinking either because one, statistically speaking that NEVER happens. People often leave prison with more trauma than when they come out, recidivism is also A Thing; and two, positing that being subjected to *more* abuse would be the defining event to make him “better” and kickstart a theoretical redemption arc is like...not an ideal narrative at all, imo.

Tl;dr it would be a lot easier for me to go along with them if they’d just like...leave him alone in this regard? It would be one thing if they were planning to seriously address this and include some recovery, but like, so far all they’re doing is playing it for laughs and if that’s what they’re going to do I’d rather they leave it out completely.

On another note, we also know that he’s been getting badly injured from physical altercations. So he isn’t doing well.

#personals. #discussion #so yeah #my pipedream is for murdoc to get to experience recovery in some capacity but #ref

[ccwandco]

Person of Interest: Panda

I was just looking through our old text conversations from a year and a half ago. Boy, were we ridiculous. Typing in all caps, all the time, using weird emojis. I can hardly believe I used to type like that. Then again, I never type to you anymore, except the jumbled apologies I tend to spew out at 3 AM when I’m crying over old times.

Like the day we met up for the first time.

“We’ll be in each others’ lives forever!”

Oh, to be in the summer of 2017 again. To be in my sophomore year of high school. To be before my awful job that constantly drains my energy, day in and day out. Before the pain of relationships gone wrong. Before depression set back in and I started doing that thing where I cut everyone out of my life in a manic episode.

Before anybody else came into the equation, it was me and you, Panda. I was a lonely girl about to go back to my former ways until you showed up. I was drifting apart from my other best friend, mostly due to her parents’ divorce. I’m glad I took a chance and tried to make new friends instead of wallowing in my sorrow of being alone.

Every conversation we had was so smooth, so unforced, so entertaining. I never needed to put on a facade for you. Even when I doubted myself, or doubted your love for me, you’d come in full force with a long paragraph to convince me otherwise. We handled rumors, crazy girlfriends, annoying preteens, and even suicide. I exposed myself to my mother for you. I don’t regret any of it, even if some of the people you dated made me incredibly stressed.

I no longer feel any resentment toward you, more so the way things turned out. I should’ve never blamed you in the first place. You’ve done nothing wrong, but with my angry past and Panther’s constant shit-talking, I had to find a villain for the pain I was feeling. It is what it is. Though I do wish I hadn’t let somebody else get in the way of us.

It’s true that I’ve known Panther longer, but he could never fill the space you’ve left. You were the shining light 15 year old Celia so desperately needed. Our list of inside jokes still continues to make me laugh. I have memory after memory of the nights we spent watching low budget movies about people getting trapped in buildings, sending unfunny memes that still managed to make both of us crack up, or discussing our plans for the future. We wanted to live together. Even when things between you and Panther began to get serious, you still wanted me there. I’m not so sure he did.

I’ve sent you apology after apology, even though I know it isn't necessary. You aren’t frustrated with me, you blame yourself. I know that you shouldn’t, but I also know that there’s nothing between us to fix. We don’t have any problems, but we can’t go back to being the best friends we once were. I sometimes wonder if you’re too far gone in your despondency to give an effort. It certainly seems that way these days, but I suppose I’m not much better.

Or maybe we just grew apart, as people often do. My music taste no longer aligns with yours, after all. But what does that really have to do with our friendship? Can’t we just talk about how awful the current Gorillaz is and call it a day? Praise Marina? Curse Titanic?

When I saw you last summer, it felt the same as it always has. We went to a record store, got ice cream, and I got stuck on the train while you managed to make your way off. I remember you crying after I finally came back. You were so worried about me. When it was time for me to go back to the Airbnb with my parents, we embraced for at least seven minutes. I counted. I didn’t want to let you go. I didn’t want to forget about the Salvation Army, the cheesy movie about Bigfoot, your dog coughing up underwear, the hot weather, watermelon Twizzlers, North Carolina, everything. Maybe I knew it was the last time I would see you. Maybe I wasn’t ready to become my own person yet.

I still have hope that I’m going to see you again someday, that we will laugh and be ourselves again. We’ll forget about Panther, and we’ll forget about everything we said and did as dumb teenagers. I don’t care if he hates your new boyfriend. If somebody makes you happy, I’m all for them.

“I don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future, but all I can say is that I hope to GOD we’re still best friends, because I genuinely couldn’t imagine my life without you for even a second. I hope we can live together and just constantly like blast music throughout our home until our neighbors yell at us. You mean the universe to me and I love you so fucking much. I just can’t explain it. Whenever you feel sad, I want you to read this and remember that I love you so much and I wouldn’t trade you for the universe. I know this might not seem like too much because I’m just one sad teenage girl, but gosh, I just can’t express how much you mean to me! I could go on about you for days. I’m running out of space so I gotta go, but I love you so much.”

I don't know if I ever told you, but you left your star-shaped choker here at my house on that first day. I decided to keep it as a sort of...souvenir. And memory of the best day of my life so far. A couple months ago, I gave it away as a gift for Rabbit. She loved it. I knew she would. It was a rather impulsive decision, and I immediately felt a pang in my stomach as Tapir helped tie it around her neck, but I couldn’t just ask for it back. I haven’t seen her wear it since. If I do see her wearing it, I think I might trip and profusely apologize to you again.

I still have your letter, though. I’ll be bringing it with me when I leave in August.

Why do we have to expect so much from the beginning?

#person of interest #panda

[tothedarkdarkseas]

What do you think is the REAL difference between Stu and Murdoc? Is it upbringing, age, personality, or cocktail of things?

I’ve gotta tell you, of all the kind asks you sent (and what a nice thing that was of you to do, thank you, they were fun to ponder!) this is the one I’m like… jittery to answer because there’s just so much to be said. Put under a cut because it ended up kinda stupid-long.

I mean, what has to be determined first is– are Murdoc and Stu that different? I tend to think they’re not, not as much as they are alike. That’s actually what I like best about them and something I usually play to when I can, how much they both resemble a certain stereotype but with their own twist. Many of their differences are a little superficial, like Stu being a bit more geezery with his football and all, and Murdoc being less uptight with his hobbies (be it involving cheeky GTA or a gimp mask.) I joked the other day that the biggest difference between the two is just that Murdoc does uppers and Stu does downers, and that’s pretty much it. I do think on a “deeper” level, like a more innate behavioral level, they’re a lot more similar than they actually realize.

But with all that being said, of course they’re not identical, and there’s a lot that contributes to where exactly they differ. I think that everything you said is absolutely relevant to that!

Let’s start with age and upbringing. The age difference between Murdoc and Stu is actually fairly stark when you just look at the years, but it never feels quite that bad to me because Murdoc and Stu are both so emotionally stunted and immature. There’s a line in Bojack Horseman than I think is incredibly on-point here, about how “the age you are when you get famous is the age you stop growing.” I think for Stu, it absolutely damned him to become famous at around 20, it locked him mentally into an age where he should’ve been learning everything wouldn’t be given to him, and instead it was just… given to him. In excess. If you follow that reasoning Murdoc’s sort of odd though, in that he never actually achieved fame on any major scale until he was in his 30′s. It seems more like Murdoc’s exaggerated sense of self-importance (probably a response to knowing, very much knowing, that he was not in fact something towering and impressive at all, and there’s like… something absurdist in really choosing to think he is. That’s almost the ultimate form of his Humor As A Shield– what could be a bigger joke than not hating himself?! Ha! It’s funny because it’s sad!) set in way before he actually became famous. It’s more like his maturity is stalled at the time he started trying to be famous. Stu didn’t actually try to pursue music at all before, while Murdoc spent a decade absolutely convinced that it had to work and doggedly not accepting when it wasn’t. It feels like these two approaches enabled (or damaged) them in different ways, but both end up with the result of men who don’t act their age for many years and have hedonistic, stereotypically rockstarish ways of living far beyond that of their bandmates. Stu can barely claim he knows better though and is perhaps more… people are gonna yell at me for being so hard on him haha, but more spoiled and therefore more ignorant because he never actually lived a responsible adult life. (Does that mean Stu hasn’t had difficulty in that life? Absolutely not. The man has at least three counts of massive head trauma and was in a coma for an undetermined period of time, he has a permanent physical impairment that likely impacts his vision, I think he’s earned a few perks.) Murdoc on the other hand is very aware of what it was like to be a failure, to be conventionally unemployable, and to have so little to lose that he’d make incredibly stupid decisions that could’ve ended his free life. His indulgence now is frankly more extreme, but Murdoc has an even greater sense of believing he earned that and he owes nothing (whether that’s completely true or not.) 

And that’s just touching on the ends of their “upbringing,” not the actual 18+ years that went into it. It goes without saying that Stu and Murdoc had very different home lives– Rachel and David Pot are suggested to be rather precious with Stu out of some probable guilt for his first head trauma, in complete contrast to Sebastian’s humiliation and neglect– but on top of that, what seems to be glossed over at times is how they grew up in very different regions at very different time periods. I’m far from an authority on this or on anything (as always I really suggest asking @elapsed-spiral if you want better information, don’t let the hiatus thing fool you, Danni’ll still talk about British Shit Innit) but I’m told the British school system Murdoc would’ve endured in the 60s and 70s was unremittingly bleak and damaging to a child’s development. Despite his immaturity and my feelings that their age difference isn’t really so pronounced, Murdoc is older than Stu and unfortunately he experienced a much colder and rougher school environment, and it’s tough to argue that didn’t have an effect. (Though on the flipside, Stu was in school during Section 28, a thing I’m also not an authority on. Go figure a working class and very closeted bisexual man in the 80s might internalize some homophobia! The go-go 80s aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.) It’s not exactly surprising that Murdoc, who grew up on the lowest end of working class, in council housing, in an unglamorous Northern town like Stoke with a neo-fascist brother and a neglectfully-abusive alcoholic father, would come away an emotionally repressed and embittered person. It’s almost a bit bold that Murdoc is as “flamboyant” as he is (even if it comes with a hefty side of toxic masculinity)– he could’ve become hateful in a more stony way, but instead he’s like a giddy-cruel showman out of spite. You can argue that Murdoc’s lack of support system results in him feeling much more unfettered. He has no one to thank for getting him out of that and no one he credits for getting him where is. He very much has the mentality of “I take what I can and do what I want, because the world owes me everything.” And in a way, I can see where that’d come from.

He’s wrong though. Because Stu’s there. And Stu owes Murdoc nothing.

I know I’m really running on here, and I think you probably already have a picture of what I see Stu’s upbringing and childhood as. Rachel Pot is the unsung best character in Gorillaz, Stu was quite coddled by his parents, and Stu admits to being largely unmotivated and rudderless. It’s notable that Stu is in fact also working class but he’s presented like he’s not, I think just as a result of looking a lot better in comparison to Murdoc and us Americans not fully knowing the details of the British class system as compared to ours. (I don’t want to condescend to you anon, you may be British and know all this a lot better than I do. But because I am American, what would be more American than assuming everyone’s American?) I would say Stu’s family places on the higher end of that though (again, council housing for Murdoc, Stu had a garden with what must’ve been a decently big tree for him to fall out of) and isn’t portrayed as struggling in the same way. His job at Norm’s seems more like something he does because he’s not allowed to sit in the house all day, and he likes messing with the keyboards and he likes having spending money because he’s too old for allowance, and girls he’s fooled around with occasionally pop in to his work and bring him a pastry from the Tesco Express she works at and they make out in her car. Stu comes away from Crawley with quite a few “tethers” that disallow him from feeling as “loose” as Murdoc– he has a good relationship with his parents, a handful of mates, probably a handful of girls he wasn’t on bad terms with, at least one who’d end up becoming his girlfriend. So why does he have some of the same “cruel showman” qualities as Murdoc? Why does his entitlement end up looking much the same? That’s all personal interpretation of course, but I’d say it’s because Murdoc drove a car into his face and stole an unspecified amount of time from his life. I’d say because he’s out of his parent’s house for the first time in his life, and he’s going full throttle into being this person now. I’d say that in one night, and many unconscious nights following it, Murdoc smashed that same embittered attitude into the front of Stu’s skull. To be clear, that isn’t writing off Stu’s faults on Murdoc; it isn’t to say Murdoc made him egotistical or promiscuous or immature. But the attitude that you are fucking owed something is really only an attitude they share because Murdoc gave Stu someone to spite where he didn’t have that before.

(I recognize this whole dynamic isn’t for everyone and I do get it, and for what it’s worth I think it’s totally correct to say Murdoc gave Stu all the best things in his life. He just also gave him the worst bits too. The reality is neither would be here without each other, for all the good and bad that implies. It’s true that Stu’s famous because of Murdoc, but it’s also true that Murdoc’s famous because of Stu. What a tangled web!)

I’m sorry, I’m so off the question now, I just love this stuff. So, personality! That’s unquestionably a factor, the answer to the nature vs nurture debate will always be a little bit of both. I think if you tallied up all of Stu and Murdoc’s traits, desires, and behaviors after they’ve been living together a few years, you’d find a longer list in the similarities column than the differences. The environmental influence doesn’t just stop at where you’re raised, I think the environment you live in and the people who inhabit it continue to have an impact on you pretty much throughout life; even if moving to a richer city doesn’t “change” you, it changes the way you look at things, understand things, respond to things. It just inherently does. Still, I recognize that’s my own characterization of them and if you just look at the characters in canon, you’d be hard pressed to say they seem like the same guy. There are things about them that are just innately different, some of it learned through their upbringing and some of it dictated by… the way they’re wired.

Which is a point I’m really hesitant to comment on too much, but– mental health. It probably doesn’t look the same between Stu and Murdoc. There are other blogs who will discuss in more depth their neurodivergent headcanons and I see nothing wrong with that, I don’t really think there is any case that can’t be made, but I’m not especially confident making those cases myself. What I’ll say is that I don’t necessarily read Stu as having any specific learning disorder, because I fear it’s a little… iffy to have so many jokes in canon about him being thick or being slow. I think it really is just that, even prior to the injuries I reckon Stu was “a bit thick.” Head trauma doesn’t help that, though. Lifelong migraines and impaired motor function came about from the brain damage, absolutely, and I do imagine he must’ve suffered some neural response slowing, but his “lower intelligence” I feel a little less comfortable casually ascribing to anything and more to just Stu being Stu. Murdoc is also a case to be careful with, but within phase 3 it seems fair to say Murdoc suffers a psychotic break and is dealing with some delusions. Dangerously, I kind of lean into thinking this isn’t something that “just happened” because of the events of El Mañana and Plastic Beach, and that Murdoc had perhaps needed to be on an anti-psychotic like lithium well before that point. Again, I don’t want to insensitively represent this so I try not to really put such a fine point on things, but… I’m a little inclined to think Murdoc went undiagnosed in his young life and still may be demonstrating some effects of that. So, y’know, make what you will of it, but there’s that.

Sorry I nattered on about this, I do really enjoy examining both characters. Jokes about the drugs and stuff aside, I’ve always felt that the biggest difference between Murdoc and Stu is that Murdoc is adaptable, and Stu is malleable. Where that stems from is probably a combination of all these things. Murdoc knows what he wants and has no loyalties, he’s been without a future, he does what he can to succeed because he’s already done what he can to survive; Stu doesn’t know what he wants and he does have “loyalties,” but he has no sense of purpose, and he’s easily nudged in the direction you need him to go. While he can be stubborn, just like Murdoc, he’s also more sincerely shaped by his experiences even later in life into multiple, sometimes disparate versions of himself– I might even wager that’s why Stu becomes such a contradictory character without any of the contradictions feeling inauthentic. The two of them “being what they need to be” is part of the reason they accomplished as much as they did. But it’s also hard to say that they really “held on” to each other through the years, or if they just melded together in parts.

#Anonymous #sorry i'm late with this but i can't shut up #headcanon posts

[garageradios-blog]

Stuart/2D Surfer AU Character Page

Stuart Pot - Joined the band after it was formed by Murdoc and Russel, Vocalist

Basic information:

-2D is a generally happy young man, never really becomes too angry unless he feels like he has to

-He’s 23, lives with his parents or crashes at Murdoc’s or Russel’s place

-”2D” is more or of a stage name, his bandmates mostly call him Stu, but sometimes they’ll say 2D or Stu-D

-Murdoc and 2D don’t have a feud in this au. At least, not more than regular friends would have. They hang out and write and make music together, no abuse.

-He’s the closest with Noodle, in a sort of fatherly way. He’ll go shopping with her when she needs something and make sure she doesn’t go sketchy places alone

-Russel is the guy 2D goes to talk to if he’s upset or needs to get away from something, or share a beer with and talk about literally anything

-Stu works at a gas station

Backstory under cut

Backstory leading up to current:

Stuart was a pretty happy kid growing up, but he was also decently quiet and put most of his emotions into music. He grew up an only child with his parents, Rachel and David who were and are always supportive and loving to him.

When he was 5 years old, he went out on a boat with his father on a fishing trip and was swimming around until a shark came up and started chomping at him. The shark went away after a couple bites but Stu was still left with permanent scars, especially on his arms and legs but he’s got a few evident chunks taken out of him on his stomach and his thighs. He’s not ashamed of his scars and never has been.

During primary, kids at school would always assume he was a boy because he kept shorter hair and was given a boys uniform, despite the fact that he’s an assigned female at birth. Stu felt more comfortable in the uniform and never complained about the mess up, he loved it and it was one of the most life changing things he’s experienced in terms of being himself and loving himself.

Friends of David and Rachel would also assume that Stuart was their little boy and at first they’d correct them.

“Oh, actually she’s our little girl. But she really loves her comic shirts and short hair, she says skirts and long hair get in the way when she’s playing.” Rachel smiled politely, but received a rather nasty look in return.

“You let your girl wear boys clothes? I would never let my son wear a skirt no matter how much he begged.”

Rachel got the most grief out of Stu’s parents because “it’s a mother’s duty to raise her child the right way.” Rachel didn’t agree. Why would she raise her child in a way that made them unhappy?

Eventually they stopped correcting people and just said that Stu is their happy child and if someone says that they have a beautiful boy, they say their thanks and let it be. Stu never minded being called a boy.

Next on the timeline, Stu started learning guitar when he was 8 and then keyboard at 13. Guitar is more something he’ll play when he’s sad or depressed, but keyboard is the instrument he’s always spending time on learning cover after cover until eventually getting into songwriting, but it was all just hobbies.

Stu but has never been, for lack of better word, a female. He never felt comfortable being treated like one or ever considered himself a female, it was just natural to him to “act like a boy.” When he was 14, he came out to his parents as trans and that he wanted to be thought of as their son. Rachel and David were supportive and they hugged him, told them that they were proud of their beautiful child, and that they will do whatever he needs to be himself.

Deep down his parents knew Stu wasn’t a girly child and it wasn’t their place to decide who he can and can’t be. They started him on the T immediately.

Along those lines, Stu has a pretty open sexuality. He doesn’t label himself but if he were forced to, he’d probably have to go with pan simply because he doesn’t have a preference who he dates, more so how he’s treated. But being a transitioning female to male, it was hard getting finding a fully stable relationship when he was in school. He was in one relationship in high school with a boy but they separated after a little over a year because they graduated and the boy had plans to move away. After that, Stu’s only relationships were one night stands or dates that would only last a month, but that didn’t start until he was nineteen.

When Stuart was 16, he got in a car crash when he was out with two of his friends. Everyone came out okay, except Stu who came out with a fracture in one of his eyes from his face hitting on the door that sent him into a 2 week long coma. When he woke up from his coma, he was nursed back to health in a couple days but he was left with chronic headaches that would affect him the rest of his life.

Four months later he damaged his other eye while working with his dad at the fairgrounds while repairing a broken bumper cart. He got too close to a power drill and it kicked back into his eye and gave him a second fracture. His left eye is mostly black and red, but his right eye has a couple visible white spots. It took him a while to get used to the change in depth perception, but like his scars, he’s not ashamed of his trauma marks

Stu graduated high school with pretty good grades, but didn’t enroll in college and remained at his parents house and got a job to save up some money while considering what he might want to do for a living, but it wasn’t long before one night changed his life.

He was driving home after a long day at work and found a stranger passed out on the side of a very blank and empty road. Stu pulled over and found a man with a beer in his hands, laying unconscious yet still alive in the gravel beside the road. Here he had to contemplate: was this a man that needed help or was this a man that put himself in this situation? Either way, Stu didn’t believe that he should leave the man there so he quickly hurled the man into his car and took him back to his parents house to let him rest until morning.

The man didn’t wake up until the afternoon the next day. Stu found that the man’s name was Murdoc and that he went through a hell of a night but that he had his own place and a job and that he didn’t need help, but thanked Stu for his generosity. Before Murdoc left, Stu gave him a plate of leftover grilled chicken from the dinner he made, warm tea to soothe him, and a couple aspirin to make his head feel better. They talked a little about themselves and shared a couple likes and dislikes and then Stu drove Murdoc back home and Stu gave him his number and said to call or text if he needed a last resort. Murdoc gave him a last thanks and went back to his apartment. Murdoc contacted Stu a week later, but not because he needed to, but because he was bored and wanted to see if Stu wanted to hang out.

(see Murdoc’s page for their character progression and how Mudz got better)

Murdoc gave Stu the nickname of 2D after they started hanging out. Soon after Murdoc and Russel started to hang out, Stu was introduced to him, then a couple weeks later to Noodle when Murdoc mentioned that he was starting a band. He was fascinated with the idea of a band and when Murdoc asked if 2D knew of a vocalist, Stu said he wanted to give it a shot. He had some experience singing but never anything serious, now was his chance to do something with his talent.

They met up one day to try working something together, Stu very nervous to sing a song that he didn’t write himself but he was determined to do his best. He was a bit shocked after he sang when everyone was staring at him. Fear filled him but when he was instantly given praise for his singing, he smiled and thanked them with tears in his eyes. This was the beginning of Gorillaz.

#stuart pot #2d #gorillaz #surf starchie #character page #moss #important