JUST LOVE YOUR WORKS MATE, KEEP UP

JUST LOVE YOUR WORKS MATE, KEEP UP 💗🙌🏻 ✨

Don't know if you'll like the idea/request : Graves in his signature light blue grey-ish shaded hoodie written "Her commander" in Silver designed text , holding a bouquet of blue flowers ( any kind to your liking ) *😳*

I sent my fiance one of your recent Graves art to get a haircut like it ..He did it and wore dark blue to a wedding function..looking almost like him.... I was unavailable for 5 business days ...🫠

Thank you so much!!🥹❤️‍🔥 I made some adjustments from the inspiration you provided, hope you don't mind!🥰 I'm glad that my work can be a reference for you😳

BABY’S FIRST WORDS

〔 a fluff piece brought to you by yours truly. domesticity at its finest, featuring the rarity of simon joking and we even observe a rare laugh from him. not without his usual cluelessness and blunt nature though. king! 〕

˗ˏˋ i honestly love him just existing as a dad. learn as you go type stuff, his daughter latching onto him when he wanted it least must’ve done him good. our emotionally stunted husband — someone give this man a hug and tell him he’s alr.

⇀ 1k | no warnings

dad!simon masterlist | masterlist | request info | taglist

Of course. Of course it had happened the only ten minutes of the day you had left her — barely managing one foot in the shower before Simon had opened the door with your daughter in his hands. Not arms, but hands. “She spoke.” He provided lamely, holding her out to you as if she contained a transferable illness. 

You grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your dry body before taking her from him, the smile she made was adoring. “She what.” Brows pung upward, your brief frown at his interruption loosening into a warmth while peppering kisses all across her cheeks. “She—“ 

“She said my name.” 

“She said Simon?” You retorted and he scoffed, taking a step backward to the door, forearm leant on the threshold. “Dad?” She reached for your hair, small fingers pulling on it with a smile when you had begun bouncing her from side to side. 

Simon shifted. “Bit like,” His words were lost for a baby laugh, one that echoed against the bathroom walls. Your hand was against your mouth in milliseconds, finding obvious tears welling in your eyes. 

“What the fuck.” You mouthed, smoothing the hair on her head and Simon raised his brows in acknowledgment of your reaction, the faintest of smiles tugging at the side of his lip. “Sorry, what did she say?” You let a breathy laugh go, one that emphasised your emotionality. 

His eyes switched between you and his daughter, leaning his full weight against the door now. “Da.”

You tilted your head at him. “Doesn’t that make you feel whole?” The baby in your arms began flailing her arms in your hold, reaching for her father as if on cue. 

Simon shrugged, pushing off from the door to close the distance between you and allowing her to poke at his tattoo. “Didn’t think much of it.” He admitted, his eyes landing on yours that had narrowed ever so slightly with an understanding nod. 

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.” He bit at the skin on his top lip, acutely aware of the flaring of your nostrils. A list of potential worries flurrying your mind, ones you would all deem as irrational though Simon probably wouldn’t. It was valid to worry about his reactions. 

His immediate reaction to your daughters first laugh was, “Oh, shit.” The noise being between a baby coo and giggle combined into something that would’ve burst your chest yet only poked at his. He held her outward, stretched forearms while her small feet kicked in the air. 

Then came her first word, one of demand, a strong “Da!” One Simon had told himself meant dad, though it was more likely a protesting noise to be put down. Whatever the noise meant, he granted her outstretched hands, placing her back down onto his knee and bouncing it up and down gently. 

By no means did Simon Riley know what to do with a baby, he was still learning, very slowly — but surely. “What was that?” He mumbled at her, his eyes boring into hers as if she were an adult who could understand his demanding stare. “Tell dad, eh? Say it again.”

To clarify the noise wasn’t made in anger. 

Instead, she grabbed at his shoulder, bunching up the material of his shirt loosely. “Or that.” He muttered, diverting his attention along with her own to Blue Planet that had been on pause for ten minutes since you had left. 

He tapped his fingers in quick succession of the one before, the sofa armrest now becoming a point of interest for the baby who had watched his hand move. Though, right before she could hike off his thigh, he had then decided to take her through to you. You know, just to let you know your daughter had just spoken her first word (noise) alongside a laugh. 

“Did she say anything else?” You asked, pushing a stray strand of hair that had fallen to his forehead only for it to drop back down. 

“Yeah.” He said bluntly, taking her from your hold and looking down to her. “Quantum physics,” 

A pause for your sigh. “Explained it all.” 

You nudged his shoulder, turning to check the shower temperature. “Go put her down. She’s due a sleep.” Your back was to the man, though his expression was easily imagined. “No, I can’t do it.”

Oftentimes, Simon zoned out when doing anything with the baby. It was something he took through future years too, future kids and all ages, arguments at breakfast? Zoned out. Walking with him? Not there. Even talking to him? Meh. 

He put the baby down in a trance, standing over the cot silently praying to gods he didn’t believe in that she would continue her peace. That no cries would break and his headache would remain in its rest, taking slow steps backward when she had shut her eyes. 

“Can't believe she spoke to you.” You had said later that night, leant against a barstool watching Simon cut up an onion in that one way you just couldn’t master. “And not me, that is.” 

“I have a charm.” He pointed the knife on its end, spinning it on the cutting board before eyeing you. “Obviously.”

“A silent-threatening-mediocre type of charm.”

He shrugged, sliding the annoyingly perfect dicing into a pan. “First laugh too.” It was a mumble designed to entice a reaction, and that it did, your arm barging against his after hearing your baby cry on cue. 

“I’ll get something from her yet.” You picked up washing from the bottom stair, beginning up the stairs to go and pacify. 

“Only got the rest of your life!” He shouted for you to hear, gaining an earnest roll of your eyes. 

“I prefer you when you’re quiet.” You spoke aloud, just enough to gain a laugh from him, one you imagined he had let go without permission while aggressively preparing another onion. 

simon ‘ghost’ riley taglist: @vamppxncess @crowbird @tallrock35 @fluffmonster @islanderr @blueoorchid @lea3773 @coldflapjack @rayhawk05 @han11dh @liishook @melovetitties @fallonx @rvjaa @fuckmelifesucks @bhayatsara @takeomisbitch @local-spidey @konigsblog @penutjuice @babychoi03 @sheluvzeren @sparklingtragedy @maviee @wiserebelpartypie @daddylorianisastateofmind @bhayatsara @mistydeyes @writingmysanity @johfaam0 @idkbbyx3 @gressseyy @fwibblefwobble @shibble @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @airghostlyfox @hotgirlsshareaccounts @simpxinnie @dilfdotgov @cliosunshine @bloobewy @lazybutsmexy @maki-z @yyiikes @tieflingteatime @cosmoscoffeee @lilvampirina @cinnabeanz @bubbyblob @spencerreidisbae123

unedited as usual. gonna go over my dad!simon masterlist this week. reblogs and comments are hugely appreciated!

I was thinking about height and names in the wasteland.

Height: I think humanity would slowly evolve to become shorter just like how through the centuries we evolved to become taller.

In the Wasteland, I think, being shorter can help with survival. Or not. But to think about it we started to become taller because our lifestyle became much better than it was before and it, for some reason, led us to become taller means, to me at least, in the Wasteland while struggling with survival the reverse would happen.

Might really do something with survival, like better hiding or something with muscles, someone might know better than me anyway.

Names: Names are pretty important to us. We not only give names to humans, we name... well, just about everything. I think this might be different in the Wasteland. Names might lost their meaning. Some might not even have names. They might abandoned it or was never given any.

And so when you come across generic raider #5 then it might be his entire persona. He might think he is a raider, takes his entire identity as this, and that is all.

Or perhaps they just feel like they don't want to share their names while shooting at... well, anyone.

Also, as a bonus. Many people must have some mutations but not the super mutant kind of. Instead some little ones, what might not even be noticed. I heard somewhere the blue eye and when someone looks into the sun and sneezes is some kind of mutation, I was immediately thinking about it. Even if these 'facts' are not true, for idea they are cool.

Let's say we have Jimmy. Jimmy has, I don't know, thicc skull. The kind you can hit with a damn hammer and the hammer would break. He finds it completely normal because he was always like this, and he just jokes about it with others.

Not every mutation must be a bad kind of mutation because that just makes no sense. To me, at least.

The entire Earth was ravaged through nuclear fire, it become irradiated, many things, if not all, mutated. That amount of radiation caused that. Humans are not the same as they were before the war. They must have changed. In many ways. Those living the longest in the Wasteland, like being the descendants of others who also lived there, means they might have more than those who just recently moved out into the Wasteland.

I am plotting some devious things 😔

we are getting served well the last couple of days 💕

(credits to April Nicol (Roze's model) for this pic)