WOAH FIRST POST IN PROBABLY MORE THAN A YEAR, FIRST POST HERE,
hilol i'm samantha elisabeth smith but i go more happily by pepper elisabeth eve or lucifer sam (that's what i put on all my minecraft signs "this is lucifer sam's _____" oh yeah) and i had a girlfriend named emily so i think i win in the pink-floyd-song-title-involvement-department fuck yeahuhhh
uh so yeah hi pinkfloydslash *waves awkwardly* i've been lurking and perving queitly about this community since i think 2010 and lol i typed 2012 on accident while typing this the first time dlkfsmdl just thought i would share that hhaha oh lord i suck
uhmm so yeah i really think entropicalia is this comm's diamond forever yup oh olord she's so dgreat whereissheeee
AND SHE GOT ME HOOKED IMMEDIATELY ON ROGER/SYD
so that's probably all i'll ever write about or post on here
because when i ship something, i ship it into overdrive
interSTELLAR OVERDRIVE-- *shot*
but yeah uh i already wrote this a while ago for FF.net for some reason even though there is like no pink floyd fandom there (why) and so i decided to join here (why did it take me so DAMN LONG) and so yeah
also i have no FUCKING CLUE what colour roger or roger's eyes are. None. I just guessed with Roger and with roger i like a girlfriend's explanation of his eyes being violet
i always associated syd with purple
i have no idea why
oh god i need to shut UP NOW
Title: of gasping cuts and violet eyes
Author: Sergeant Sam
Pairing: Roger/Syd
Rating: PG for some wounds and swearin but nothing bad
Summary: Syd has a mishap while tuning his guitar one day, and Roger, being the sweet, sugar-veined man he is (oh please), he helps Syd.
Disclaimer: fILTH and LIES
well except for syddles getting cut by a guitar string, i know that actually happened at one point or another
Author Notes: OH MY GOD this is so FLUFFFY AND BAD but i'd appreciate it if it got read anyway ; w;
Strings always rust and pop and unwind. Tuning was dangerous. Dangerous. Like a guitar string popping loose and striking you in the face or the hand. Oh, like what was happening now.
His heart skipped as the string popped and dug into his finger, rushing by then cutting into the skin of his third finger and palm in a flash. He could only gasp and drop the guitar, scooting his chair back along the floor, wood on wood squealing protest as he gripped his injured hand.
"Hey!" Roger shouted quickly when he heard all the combined noises, the gasp, the possible yelp, the wood noises, and the dropped guitar. He jumped up from his own chair and put his bass down, going over to his artist.
"What happened?" He asked, concern creasing his face as he knelt next to the younger man.
"The s-string.. it.." The artist babbled breathlessly, dark violet eyes going from the gasping cut in his hand to the concerned bluegreen gaze of his friend. His friend just shook his head slightly and bent in closer to-
"Don't touch it, Roger!" The artist cried, swatting Roger's hand away as it reached to tend to his cut. The taller man rolled his eyes and scoffed.
"You want me to help, right?" Dark violet eyes turned upwards and glared stubbornly at his friend's angular face.
"How the fuck am I s'posed to help if I can't 'touch it'?" The eyes turned away and glared holes into the now quiet floor, and the injured hand was pushed closer to the older man.
'That's what I thought.'
Cuts and wounds were cleaned and bandaged up
(from a torn scarf Roger had and decided he didn't need it-Syd needed it more)
and Roger was now in the bathroom, washing his hands and thinking of his dearest friend, who was now back in the other room, sitting in his chair. Not Syd's chair, Roger's chair. But Roger hadn't a clue.
He blinked when he heard Syd's voice softly sounding from the room, and he turned the water off, wiped his hands on his stupid vertical-striped pants, and walked quietly into the doorway to see Syd
(that's my chair! damnit Syd!)
apologizing to his guitar. His heart tugged and so did the corners of his mouth at the sight and sound. Syd really was the most extroverted, whimsical thing Roger'd ever know, wasn't he?
"It needs a string and a tune doesn't it?" Roger heard himself say, and he saw Syd turn his curly head in shock. He blushed a little, and mumbled something under his breath,
(yes)
and Roger walked over to where he sat.
He noticed Syd was holding his guitar in a deathgrip, knuckles white and eyes staring dimly ahead, face looking intensely concerned about something.
Oh.
"I'll tune it for you, Syd." He offered, and Syd woke from his mental coma, and looked up at Roger, his hypnotic eyes in full effect as they shimmered. Roger felt his heart jolt.
"Really?"
"Anything that'll help you in keeping that hand." Roger laughed and Syd laughed and no one got injured by guitars again, thanks to very attentive Rogers.