#plastic beach 2doc

[plasticdazed]

“Sardines Taste Better in the Tin.” (And other musings from 2D)

In which 2D writes in his journal, the only think keeping from going mad on this island. Appropriate for all ages. Journal entries are in brackets!

Slight 2Doc in the end

Sardines taste better in the tin.

2D squinted against the bright sun, perched on the rocky edge of Plastic Beach. The waves crashed gently, the distant sound a constant reminder of his captivity. He had attempted to escape before, but each time Murdoc found him and dragged him back, more menacing than ever. So now, he spent most days in solitude, contemplating the vast ocean before him.

Spotting a flock of seagulls diving into the water, 2D's stomach grumbled. Hunger gnawed at him, and the thought of fresh fish brought a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could catch a few sardines or somethin', just enough to fend off the hunger pangs.

With a sense of determination, 2D stood up and headed toward the shoreline. He spotted a few rocks jutting out into the water and decided they'd make a good spot to try and catch some fish.

But, as it turns out, 2D wasn't exactly a skilled fisherman. He tried splashing the water with his hands, making all sorts of silly noises, but the fish just seemed to ignore him, swimming away like they knew he was bad news.

[ S'pose fish aren't too keen on me catchin' 'em. I must've looked right daft tryin' to splash 'em out of the water. Murdoc would've laughed his arse off if he saw me like that. ]

2D's frustration grew, but he refused to give up. He decided to try a different approach. Searching along the shore, he found a rusty tin can that had washed ashore.

"Now, this might just work," he mumbled to himself, a glimmer of hope returning.

He filled the tin with a bit of seawater and placed it near the water's edge, holding it steady with a rock. Then he sat back, waiting patiently, hoping that the fish might swim into the can, somehow thinking it's a safe hiding spot.

2D watched with glee as a couple of sardines took the bait, swimming into the tin one after another. With a swift motion, he scooped them out of the water, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. He thanked the fish quietly, somehow grateful for their cooperation.

As he returned to his makeshift cell, clutching the tin with his meager catch, he couldn't help but think about how life had changed so drastically. Once a carefree musician, now a captive on this deserted island, forced to record songs the one man who had ruined his life time and time again; Murdoc.

[ Y'know, I used to dream 'bout fame and bein' a rockstar, playin' for crowds all over the world. But here I am, stuck on this bleedin' Plastic Beach, singin' songs for the man who keeps me locked away like some sort of pet. ]

2D sat alone in his dingy cell, the tin of sardines by his side. He stared at the fish, reflecting on the irony of his situation. These sardines were just like him, trapped in a tin, their freedom taken away, and yet, they still tasted better than he did. It was a bitter thought, but it brought a strange comfort to his weary soul.

[ Maybe sardines have it all figured out. Maybe they're better off in their tins, away from the danger of the ocean, just like I'm better off stuck here with Murdoc. Sardines taste better in the tin, don't they? ]

The waves never stop talking, but I can't understand a word they say.

[ The waves never stop talkin', and I reckon they've got a lot to say. But the thing is, I can't understand a word they're on about. It's like they're speakin' a language of their own, and I'm just an outsider, lost in translation. ]

2D sat cross-legged on the sandy shore, his eyes fixed on the rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves. The sound was constant, a soothing background noise that accompanied his every moment on Plastic Beach. He'd been stuck here for what felt like forever, and sometimes, the waves' chatter was the only company he had.

"I wonder what they're talkin' 'bout," 2D mused aloud, his voice carrying in the breeze.

He leaned in closer, as if hoping to catch a whisper of their secrets. But all he could hear was a soft, continuous murmur that seemed to hold some sort of wisdom.

[ I've tried to listen, ya know? I've leaned in, I've strained my ears, but it's like they're speakin' another language. Maybe they're discussin' the secrets of the ocean or the mysteries of life. Or maybe they're just gossipin' about the seagulls' latest escapades. ]

One day, when the waves seemed particularly lively, 2D decided to try and communicate with them. He raised his hand, waving hesitantly at the sea, as if saying hello.

"Hey, waves! How's it goin'?" he called out, hoping for some sort of response.

The waves, of course, didn't respond in a way he could understand. They just kept coming and going, as if they hadn't heard him at all.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, 2D found himself spending more time by the water. It was as if the waves held some sort of mystical power over him, drawing him in with their constant chatter.

He'd sit for hours, lost in his own thoughts, wondering what the waves might be saying. Were they telling stories of far-off lands or recounting the legends of forgotten sailors? Or perhaps they were simply sharing their joy at being free to roam the vast expanse of the sea.

[ I envy 'em sometimes, you know? The waves just go wherever they want, free as can be. ]

During one particularly stormy night, 2D found himself drawn to the crashing waves. The thunder roared above, and the waves responded with a ferocity that matched the storm. It was as if they were angry, voicing their frustration at being confined to this place just like him.

2D stood on the edge, feeling the spray of saltwater on his face, and for a moment, he felt a strange connection with the waves. They, too, were trapped in a never-ending cycle of motion, just like he was.

[ I think the waves are angry sometimes. Angry 'bout bein' stuck here, just like me. But at least they get to move and make noise. All I can do is sing. I had this silly idea today. I asked Murdoc if we could have a song with just the sound of waves on the beach, thinking maybe someone out there could understand what they're sayin'. But, of course, I got smacked with a shoe for even suggestin' it. Murdoc said I must be drinkin' too much sea water to come up with such rubbish. Maybe he's right, and I'm just losin' it. But sometimes, I can't help but wonder if the waves are tryin' to tell me somethin', somethin' that's beyond my grasp on this plastic prison. Maybe I'll never understand the waves, but I'll keep listenin' anyway. ]

Sea breeze and salty hair sound poetic, but they're just messy.

[ Sea breeze and salty hair may sound poetic, but let me tell ya, they're just messy. And you'd think they'd be a problem for all of us here on Plastic Beach, especially for Cyborg Noodle. I can't help but wonder how she even operates on this constantly wet island without glitchin' out or gettin' sand in her servers. It's like she's made for battle, not for sittin' around in the salty air and playin' in the waves. I remember when Murdoc brought her here; she was like a sleek, deadly machine. But she's changed, hasn't she? She's still dangerous, but there's somethin' more there now, somethin' that makes me wonder if she's more than just Murdoc's war machine. I wonder if she's got a soul too, if she's trapped here just like me, doin' Murdoc's biddin' without question. But then again, maybe I'm just anthropom antropromofizis pretending shes the tiniest bit human, seein' somethin' that ain't really there. Either way, I can't help but feel sorry for her, stuck on this plastic island, just like the rest of us. ]

She moved with an eerie grace, her metallic body gleaming in the dim light of the recording room. Her once vibrant blue hair had turned a sleek silver, a stark contrast to her sharp red eyes. She was Murdoc's creation, built to be a war machine, to guard the island and do his bidding without question.

2D watched her from a distance, curiosity mixed with a hint of fear. She was cold and efficient, carrying out Murdoc's orders with a robotic precision that sent shivers down his spine.

[ I remember when I first saw her, all shiny and new. She was like a ghost, silently guardin' this place with her arsenal of weapons. I'd watch her from afar, wonderin' what it's like to be made like that, without any emotions or free will. But now, it's like she's changed. Maybe it's just my imagination, but she seems more... human somehow. I never thought I'd say that 'bout a cyborg, but there's somethin' different 'bout her. I wonder if she ever dreams or feels trapped like the rest of us. ]

As days turned into weeks and weeks into months, 2D noticed subtle changes in Cyborg Noodle's demeanor. She was still deadly, still the war machine Murdoc had designed her to be, but there was a certain softness to her movements, a hint of something more.

He'd catch her staring at the horizon sometimes, her red eyes fixed on the endless sea. He wondered if she ever yearned for freedom, if she longed to break free from her programmed chains and feel the sand beneath her feet.

He once caught her sitting on the beach, her metallic fingers gently tracing patterns in the sand. It was a strangely human gesture, and for a moment, 2D felt a pang of sympathy for her. She was a machine built for destruction, but maybe, just maybe, she wanted something more.

[ Today, I saw her sittin' on the beach, just like a regular girl, her fingers playin' with the sand. It was such a human thing to do, and it got me thinkin'... does she ever dream of escape too? Is she more than just a war machine? Maybe I'm just bein' daft, but I can't help but wonder. I hope, somehow, she's got somethin' more than just fulfillin' Murdoc's dark desires. ]

Wonder if Murdoc misses me when I'm not singing for him?

[ I can't help but wonder if Murdoc misses me when I'm not singin' for him. It's a strange thing to think about, I know. But when you're stuck on Plastic Beach with no one else around, you start to wonder all sorts of things. I don't care if he likes me or not, or if he's angry with me. It's just that... I want him to think of me, even if it's with hatred or anger or somethin' more. ]

The memories of their early days on Plastic Beach were hazy for 2D. He remembered waking up in the unfamiliar surroundings, not fully understanding how he ended up there. And then Murdoc appeared, grinning like the devil himself, with that same old glint in his eyes.

2D had tried to escape at first, to run away from this madman who had kidnapped him and brought him to this desolate place. But each attempt was met with force, and soon, he realized there was no escape.

2D found himself singing for Murdoc, day in and day out. He couldn't explain why, but there was something strangely comforting in Murdoc's presence. Maybe it was the familiarity of the man he had known for years, or maybe it was the isolation that drove him to seek any form of companionship, even if it was with his captor.

[ It's not like I want to be here singin' for him, but I can't help feelin' a strange sort of comfort in his presence. I've known him for so long, and maybe that's why. Or maybe it's just the loneliness drivin' me to latch onto anythin'. I can't explain it, but when he's around, it feels like I'm not alone on this plastic prison. ]

As the days turned into months, 2D found himself thinking about Murdoc more and more. He wondered what Murdoc was doing when he wasn't with him, whether he thought of him at all when he wasn't singing. He tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that it didn't matter what Murdoc thought of him, but deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling of longing for some form of connection with the man who held him captive.

[ I don't care if he likes me or not, it's just that... I want to know if he thinks of me. It's a strange thing, wantin' any form of connection with the man who kidnapped me. I must be goin' mad from drinkin' too much sea water. ]

One day, when Murdoc seemed particularly agitated, 2D dared to ask him if he ever thought of him when he wasn't around.

"Do you ever... think about me when I'm not singin' for ya?" 2D asked timidly, not sure what to expect.

Murdoc chuckled, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "Why would I waste my precious thoughts on a useless git like you, eh?" he replied, his words like a dagger to 2D's heart.

[ He laughed it off, said he wouldn't waste his thoughts on me. And maybe that's for the best. I don't know why I asked, to be honest. Maybe I just wanted him to acknowledge my existence, even if it was with cruelty. I must be losin' it, really. ]

[angryplebianart]

Happy birthday Plastic Beach!! This will (hopefully) not be my only art for the anniversary, but I figured I would get this out quick before I went to bed 😁🩵💚

[12d3noods]

[murdknux]

for the return to plastic beach movement 🚤

[stuartsspot]

my personal headcanon is that pollution on plastic beach made 2D’s eyes start turning white

and the first time he woke up with white eyes it freaked the shit out of him

so he goes running to murdoc even though he kidnapped him 🫶🏻

[bugslaststraw]

One morning 2-D, lead singer of Gorillaz, wakes up without a headache. This is so surprising to him that it instantly shakes him conscious, and leaves him staring wide eyed and fully alert at the ceiling. In gentle but overwhelming disbelief, he tries sitting up, thinking that something will change.

It doesn't. Nothing starts to throb behind his eyes. He blinks experimentally. Nothing happens. It's gone. The migraine, which usually requires reaching over to the bedside table for the pill bottle and another half hour of sleep to fix, is just gone.

In the gloom, he looks over to the bedside table, where the bottle usually stands.

It's not there either.

In short, 2-D has the best worst three days of his life.

[lumcoy]

PB

[akiira-a]

Mi buen amor

(⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠)

[lyric-central]

StockHolm syndrome kills.

[tothedarkdarkseas]

Summary: It puts him in mind of seeing his parents or his old girlfriend after the accident, their eyes glassy and voices trembling. He remembers how he’d blinked through the dull red film that coloured his hospital room and said he was sorry. Sorry for what he put them through.

It felt unfair then. It seems unbearable now.

A character study of Stuart as he records The Fall during the American leg of the Plastic Beach tour, reworking the Gorillaz plot around the real touring timeline; or, thoughts on trauma in transit, who we are to strangers, and the link between sugar cravings and opioid dependence.

Rating: Explicit (references to sexual content and explicit substance abuse.)

Warnings: Quite a few, please check AO3′s warnings for more detail. Primarily substance abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms born of an unhealthy relationship, and mental health issues.

This is it, the white whale of a fic finally conquered. I’m nervous, and excited, and disappointed in old writing and proud of new growth. It’s a lot of emotion for a story, I know. More notes are provided on AO3, but I’ll just add-- thank you for the support, and I hope you’ll enjoy.

[sunnymelonpan]

I can’t believe that “Stylo” from Gorillaz was uploaded 12-years ago. Still love that song after all these years.

[plasticdazed]

Crimson Love

Warnings: Heavy angst, disturbing themes, blood, coercion, unhealthy power dynamics, blood drinking, and toxic behavior. 18+. Minors do not read or interact.

Description:

On the desolate shores of Plastic Beach, 2D finds himself trapped in a sinister game orchestrated by Murdoc. The pressures of recording the next Gorillaz album have left Murdoc mentally drained and on edge. As 2D loses his voice due to overuse, Murdoc's patience wears thin. Instead of his usual outbursts, Murdoc resorts to silent control, which terrifies 2D even more.

The waves crashed relentlessly against the shore, mirroring the turmoil within Plastic Beach's gloomy interior. In a dimly lit recording room, 2D stood hunched over the microphone, his voice hoarse and strained from countless takes. The pressure to deliver the perfect performance weighed heavily on him, but he knew better than to complain. He had learned the hard way that voicing any form of protest invited wrath he couldn't bear.

"2D, mate, you're sounding more like a bloody walrus than a singer. Get it together!" Murdoc's voice growled from behind the soundboard, his eyes fixed on the blue-haired vocalist.

"I-I'm trying, Muds," 2D stammered, his voice barely audible, "Just need a moment."

Murdoc scowled, his patience dwindling rapidly. "Moments are for the weak, you daft twit. We have a schedule to keep, and your laziness is holding us back."

Desperation clawed at 2D's heart as he pushed himself further, trying to appease the volatile man who held him captive. His voice cracked, and then something inside him snapped. Blood trickled from his lips, staining the microphone with crimson droplets.

The sight was shocking even to Murdoc, and for a moment, his face softened with concern before morphing into something darker. "What have you done to yourself now?" he growled, his pupils fixed on the singer’s bloodied lips.

2D clutched his throat, coughing violently, blood dripping through his fingers. Fear and pain danced in his eyes as he glanced at Murdoc, who seemed to be filled with something disturbingly akin to fascination.

"You've gone and ruined your voice, haven't you?" Murdoc's pupils dilated, his voice lowering to a dangerous tone. "But you know, 2D, you're mine, and everything that belongs to me is my responsibility."

Confused, yet aware of the twisted connection they shared, 2D nodded weakly. He knew better than to resist Murdoc's whims, and if Murdoc wanted his blood, then that was what he would give.

The bassist moved closer, licking the blood off 2D's lips with a macabre intensity. A shiver ran down 2D's spine as Murdoc dipped his tongue into his mouth, tasting the remnants of his strained throat.

In this strange, eerie moment, a chilling bond formed between them. Murdoc's lust for control merged with 2D's desperate desire for safety, and for a brief moment, they found an unsettling harmony.

Murdoc's grip on 2D's throat loosened, and he stared at the singer, a mix of triumph and satisfaction in his eyes. "There. You see? Even in your pitiful state, you're good for something," he mused darkly.

Despite the disturbing encounter, 2D couldn't help but feel a strange sense of connection with Murdoc. In this bleak and twisted place, they found a peculiar understanding, a macabre intimacy that neither would admit but couldn't deny.

Plastic Beach, with its haunting beauty, became the stage for a dark symphony of unspoken melodies. In the face of silent control and manipulated terror, 2D and Murdoc danced to a melody they never wished to hear, bound by their own demons, trapped in the web they both helped weave.

[stu-art192000]

I had my fans on my YouTube ask my Plastic beach a.u Murdoc 2d, and cyborg noodle questions! These are the few I’ve gotten done so far 😁

(note: this a.u is 2doc related. If you don’t like that, cool I respect you. But please treat me with the same respect. Have a nice day 🫶)

[12d3noods]

[2dorn0t2d]

A little 15 min thing I made based off of an rp with someone.

[stuartsspot]

plastic beach angst is my food 🪸⚓️🐋