#phase 2 gorillaz

[colossaldood]

PHASE 2 GORILLAZ!! I love these guys so much and Hewlett is major inspo. By far my fave phase other than Plastic Beach era phase 3.

Will try doodling some DanDaDan later :)

[alienduckbonez]

An Abbey Road x Gorillaz piece I completed recently :>

Lil detailz:

Green tint references O Green World.

Noodle's got her bro's hat on.

Each member matches the Beatle who played their instrument (or sang) in the original photo.

[maryn-jpeg55]

Sometime around 2005

[beadsandboops]

Phase 2 murdoc and his fuckass bird (I love you Cortez)

[sammym332]

ehhh.,.. walk with me in the rain will you?

[whoiselliot]

Uhhhh....random Murdoc + SOFIA ISELLA drawing that I finished at 2 in the morning.

[tobiornottobi777]

woohoo. When i feel heavy metal

2D reference art by glowrillaz!!

[galorak]

The Solstice of Stuart Pot | 2D x Gender neutral reader

A small gift tucked into a pocket ensures that even as he disappears into the mist, he isn't forgotten.

Chapter rating: General Audiences

Relationships: 2D/Stuart Pot x Gender neutral reader

Chapter Four - Look up

[Chapter one]

Outside, the grey sky began to lighten up. It was the sort of sky that felt sleepy, in a way. The angry clouds had parted just enough for the sun to shine through again and the rain began to shower instead of pelt.

Stuart lingered at your shoulder for a second too long, his chin hovering near your shoulder. Then, as if a wire had finally snapped him back to reality, he blinked and straightened up.

"Right," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The sheepish grin was back, but there was a new brightness in his eyes that hadn't been there when he was staring at his melting ice cream. "I, uh... I suppose the ghosts won that round. They're cheats, really. Don't play by the rules."

"We almost had them," you said, stepping back just enough to let the cool air return between you. "Six figures is impressive."

"Yeah?" He looked down at his shoes, then back at you, a shy, fleeting look. "I'm alright with me fingers. It’s me head that gets a bit muddled sometimes."

He gestured vaguely toward the exit, where the sky had turned a bruised, heavy purple. The rain was drumming against the corrugated metal roof of the arcade, a metallic patter that made the whole world feel small and enclosed.

"Not much point goin' back out there yet," he noted. "You’ll get soaked through, and then you’ll look like a drowned rat. Not that - I mean, you’d be a nice lookin' rat." You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. It wasn't mocking, just genuinely charmed by the absolute train wreck of his compliment.

"Thanks, Stuart. I'll take nice looking rat as a win."

A bit of the tension left his shoulders, and he laughed too, a soft sound that was nearly lost to the arcade’s noise. He started walking toward the back of the building, not looking to see if you were following, but slowing his pace just enough so that your shoulders occasionally brushed as you navigated the narrow aisles of claw machines.

Every time your arms touched, a tiny spark of static electricity jumped between your sleeves. It was probably just the cheap carpet and the salt in the air, but neither of you pulled away.

He stopped in front of an old, dusty machine tucked in a corner, far from the flashing lights of the main floor. It was one of those vintage "Fortune Teller" booths, with a wax woman behind a glass pane.

"Me mum used to say these were rubbish," he whispered, leaning his elbows on the wooden ledge. He didn't look at the fortune teller; he was watching your reflection in the glass. "But sometimes, I think they just tell you what you already know. Like... 'You’re standin' in 'ere because it’s rainin'.' Dead easy, innit?"

You looked at his reflection, his blue hair, the dark, bottomless pits of his eyes, and felt that "ghostly familiarity" tugging at you again. He felt like a song you’d heard a long time ago and forgotten the lyrics to, but you still remembered the melody.

"And what do you think it would tell us right now?" You asked softly. Stuart reached into his pocket, fished out a lone, battered 10p coin, and held it out to you. His fingers didn't quite touch your palm as he dropped the coin into your hand, but the warmth from the metal where he’d been holding it felt like a deliberate message.

"Dunno," he said, his voice dropping to a shy murmur. "Maybe that the rain isn't the worst thing that could've happened today."

He gave you a small smile, the kind that didn't reach for a "high score," but felt like a win all the same.

The coin was cool against your palm, but the weight of it felt significant, like a secret passed between two people who had only just stopped being strangers. You turned toward the machine, the glass reflecting the two of you standing in a pocket of time that didn't quite belong to the rest of the world.

"Well," you said, your voice low to match the hum of the arcade. "Let's see if your mum was right."

You slid the coin into the slot. The machine let out a mechanical, wheezing groan, the kind of sound only something made of rusted gears and old dreams could make. The wax figure inside didn't move much, just a slight, jerky tilt of her hea before a small, rectangular slip of card hissed out of the dispenser. Stuart leaned in, his shoulder brushing yours with that same static-filled spark. You picked up the card. It wasn't a fortune, at least not a traditional one. The ink was faded, the edges yellowed by the sea air.

"The best views are found after the steepest climb. Don't forget to look up."

"That’s a bit... literal, isn't it?" You murmured, turning the card over. It was blank on the back, save for a smudge of blue ink that looked like it might have been a thumbprint from whoever stocked the machine decades ago. Stuart took the card from you, his long fingers careful, as if it were made of glass. He squinted at the words, his head tilting.

"Look up," he repeated softly. He didn't look at the ceiling of the arcade. Instead, he looked at you, a strange, thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I think I’ve been doin' a lot of lookin' at me shoes lately. Might be why I keep trippin' over things."

"Is that why you're here?" You asked. "To look up?"

He let out a short, airy laugh and tucked the card into the pocket of his denim shorts.

"I'm 'ere because...well, just wanted some peace, I s'pose."

He started to move toward the exit, the rain having slowed to a rhythmic, gentle tapping against the glass doors. The sky outside was a pale, washed-out gold, the sun struggling to reclaim the afternoon.

"I best get back," he said, gesturing vaguely toward the arcade's entrance. "Dad'll be wonderin' if I’ve been carried off by a giant squid. 'e gets worried, y'know? Or annoyed. It's hard to tell the difference."

You walked with him toward the doors, the transition from the neon-lit interior to the soft, natural light of the afternoon feeling like waking up from a very specific, vivid dream.

"Will you be back?" You asked as you reached the threshold. It was a simple question, but it felt heavy in the air between you. Stuart stopped, one hand on the heavy glass door. He looked out at the shoreline, then back at you. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out something small, a silver gum wrapper, folded neatly into a tiny, lopsided star. He pressed it into your hand.

"Keep that. It’s a... well, it's a star, innit? For when it’s too cloudy to see the real ones. If you're still around when the dodgems start up again, maybe we can see if the ghosts are still cheatin'."

He didn't wait for an answer. With a final, shy wave, he stepped out into the mist, his blue hair catching the pale sunlight. He walked with that same peculiar, rhythmic gait, disappearing into the crowd of tourists who were only just beginning to emerge from their cover. You stood there for a long moment, the silver star in your open palm and the memory of static electricity still buzzing on your sleeve. You didn't know his last name, or where he lived, or why he looked so familiar. All you knew was that the rain really hadn't been the worst thing to happen that day.

You looked down at the gum-wrapper star. It was a small, fragile thing, but as you tucked it into your pocket, you realized you were already looking forward to the clouds clearing. Looking out again, you wanted to follow him, but decided against it. You were here for one more night and hoped he'd bump into you again.