#rogerwaters

A humble return 😋🔥

Err, kind of! Just wanted to post some recent bangers I've drawn since my disappearance off Tumblr! I highly suggest following me on insta so see me go on stupid tangents abt Roger.

(I'm a fucking freak no cap. 🧢)

First two are a bigger WIP project of my Roger Collage. (Tryna figure out what to add!) :]

And the last one is semi ship art (it's my own cringe and I'm happy w it.) It's so called "Marshger" the stupid ship of myself and Roger 😭😭💖 it's all in good fun

But for the love of fuck I would appreciate if the ship isn't a free for all 🙏 I just feel uncomfortable because that's my persona and I don't want him fetishized. Fanart of him is appreciated tho!

(My sona is a completely different design. It doesn't have Roger's face LOL)

3rd one is a shitpost!

Anyways. Good to be posting again! 😋 and while I'm at it here's this first edition of my Roger Waters Collage!

I alr posted this one on insta! This one is a free for all enjoy 🪱🗿

I'VE GOT A BIKE

Synopsis: Pink Floyd as kids have a bike race, but something goes wrong

Characters: Roger Waters, David Gilmour, Syd Barrett

Hello everyone! I don't know what this is, it's a small something I wrote after dreaming of it. Hope you enjoy!

***

Cambridge 1953

"George, wait for me!"

But the boy continued pedaling at breakneck speed, faster than the wind that ruffled his brown hair, and he didn't even hear the call from behind.

He reached the large oak tree on the lake, braking sharply, and raised his arms in victory. "First!"

A minute later, David joined him, panting. His blue eyes shone beneath his dark blond hair, plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"And Roger?" George asked, looking around.

David got off his bike. "He fell. He hurt himself."

George snorted—after all, he was the oldest, and his mother had warned him to watch out for his younger friends. So he picked up his bike again and they rode back together.

On the asphalt was Roger, curled up against his bleeding right knee. His dark curls fell into his eyes as he tried to hold back the tears.

“What happened?” George asked.

“I fell.”

“Let me see.”

He checked his knee: it was covered in blood, dirt, and dust, but nothing more. “It’s nothing, just a scrape. It’ll heal soon, you’ll see.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” George smiled, ruffling his hair.

Roger sniffed and slowly stood up. “Shall we have another race?”

“Yes.”

The three of them positioned their bikes and mounted them.

“Whoever gets to the sweet shop first, wins” David announced.

But before they could set off, he held George with a hand on his chest and whispered, “Let him win.”

George looked at Roger, still limping but ready to go, and finally nodded.

“Ready? One… two… three… go!”