"I Love Kentucky"

awww love this sm omggg

Change of plan

Price being a dad and Simon being autistic, with a side of Ghoap, enjoy!

Captain Price was absent from training. Actually, every Captain and higher was absent from everything. They had one of those monthly meet ups where they learned about useless things no one wants to know. Maybe it was the administration team sharing their suffering with them?  

Anyways, everyone was dozing off. Some were like teenagers trying not to get caught playing games on their phones, others were taking a nap and some rares were actually listening.  

Captain Price was about to doze off, not fully listening, but not asleep just yet.  

‘’... And as we said last meeting the MREs will be changed for the new formula. The crates will arrive next week so we ask that you help clear out any old MREs, as they will be considered unregulated. ‘’ 

Price’s head shot up when he heard that statement, looking almost terrified.  

‘’Something to say, Price?’’  

The man shook his head, his voice would be too strained to be convincing. Already, he was reliving an old nightmare.  

When the meeting ended, he immediately went to the kitchen to steal every old formula MREs he could find, putting them in a special stash that every staff of the kitchen knew not to touch. He did the same for every other place that gave away MREs.  

The stash looked glorious, if he was honest. But he couldn’t quite be proud of himself, the dread of the coming storm weighing on him.  

And it weighed on him for the next week, when they brought the new crates. Then every day after that. His pile was getting smaller every day, and no one was prepared for what was coming.  

… 

Two weeks later. The stash is empty. It’s about to begin.  

The first meal was given to Ghost, and Price sweated as he observed his (son)soldier. Ghost frowned at the meal that was given to him at the cafeteria. Yeah, usually soldiers are given a plate and warm food if they’re not out in the field. But Ghost was a man of routine, and for some reasons he preferred eating MREs every day rather than break that routine.  

He kept frowning as he sat down next to Soap. He looked at the package, noticing every difference. Opened it, groaned at the unusual side dishes given. Usually, he’d get dry crackers with a nutty paste to put on it, as well as a dry cookie and the main meal. This time, he got a fucking pop tart with a granola bar.  

He threw the offending items aside and focused on the main dish. A ratatouille... Something he’d never been served in an MRE before.  

And Price witnessed Ghost get up without eating, throwing everything in the trash.  

He didn’t show up at the next meal. And the next, Price had to ask Soap to find him and get him to eat at least something.  

The hunger must’ve gotten hard to deal with, because the next day he showed up at lunch and got his usual. He sat down, frowning, and opened the MRE. At least now he knew it would be different. He still grimaced at the pop tart, but at least got the main dish warm and tried to taste it. It was a gratin, hard to miss.  

Wrong.  

Ghost only took a couple of bites before he threw the whole thing out.  

The granola bar was the next victim.  

And Jesus was Ghost annoying when his routine was broken up, even worse when he was hungry. He’d snap at everyone, fight on sight and got more violent the more he felt weakened by the lack of nutrients.  

‘’Price, what’s going on with Ghost? He’s barely eating and he almost broke someone’s arm during sparring!’’  

‘’I know... It’s the new MREs, we just have to endure it until he gets used to it.’’ Price sighed, but Soap’s look of confusion didn’t change. He couldn’t blame him. The first time it happened Price was certain that it was a PTSD attack. Ghost had sent a handful of soldiers to the hospital for simply brushing against him.  

‘’He’s like this because of the MREs? What’s different about them?’’  

‘’I don’t know, ask him he’d probably tell you all about it.’’ Price sounded tired, and he was. He knew Ghost couldn’t help it, but it was still a tiring dance.  

But weirdly, Soap did just that.  

The next meal, he sat next to Ghost and waited for a sign of discontent. It came fast, and Soap asked what was the matter. At first, he received short answers, but it seemed like a dam broke when he asked ‘’What’s so different about them?’’.  

And boy, no one ever heard Ghost speak so much. Soap hadn’t understood all that was said, but he understood that there was too much protein additives into it, changing the taste, as well as American brands forcing themselves in there. There was also something about ‘’changing the classic recipes’’...  

But while Ghost was ranting about it, he actually finished eating his meal without noticing. He was also way less grumpy during the next hours. When the next meal came, he didn’t eat it all, and went back to his gloomy self.  

So, Soap asked the next day. And the day after. Eventually Ghost got used to the new meals and everything went back to normal.  

Except that if anyone dared to mention the weird taste of the MREs, Ghost appears out of nowhere to explain exactly why that is.  

--- 

Bonus:  

‘’... It should take you two weeks, solo, minimum communication. If you do it well it can take one week only. Are you in? ‘’  

Price was looking intensely at Ghost for any sign of emotion in his eyes. They were in his office, lights off.  

‘’I said, are you in?’’ technically, he knew he was in. But he always had to make sure his soldiers understood the mission and accepted to take part. 

‘’I don’t know, Captain. Will the green tea be refilled when I come back?’’  

The green tea?...  

‘’Oh for fuck’s sake Simon!’’ Price had accidentally bought black tea instead of green when he had to refill the box. Actually, it wasn’t on accident, there was just no more of the usual green tea so he took black tea from the same brand.  

‘’You’re a bloody nightmare! Yes it will be refilled properly!’’  

Ghost straightened up a bit, nodding.  

‘’Then I accept the mission.’’ Smug bastard. 

-----

This is 100% inspired by my reaction to new meals

Also I said I wouldn't write anymore but with school I don't have much time to draw, so writing it is

shitpost art study with Ghosty

same GUYS..

I still get excited when my friends refer to me as their friend

"My friend said" "this is my friend" "they're my friend"

Im freaking out inside every time

Ghost: disrespect abounds here

this is my first headcanon/yap so pls dont judge me lol😭 anyway headcanons(?) of what Simon Ghost Riley is like in a relationship🫶

tw: abuse mentioned (no detail)

-

Finds it hard to love and trust, this fear def started from his fathers abuse throughout his childhood, and never actually seen what real love is like w his parents

Somewhat emotionally unavalible, at last in the beginning, id imagine that during an argument w his lover, he'd shut down or get frustrated and say things he doesnt mean. I dont think he would be great at communicating either, often shutting down things that worry/upset him. With all of this i believe w time and an understanding lover he would be a lot better

Definetly would get to know all of his lovers friends, interests, hobbies etc

Very respectful of boundaries etc

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this is kinda short but yeah... these r just my opinions!!! first real post hehe

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIPP

tw// drug od

Oh my god. From the second I started this show I loved Graves’ and Caulder’s friendship.

Watching Caulder’s od scene made my heart break a little. The way Joe handles it makes me wanna curl up and die (PSA: if you know someone is overdosing, call an ambulance ASAP!)

I don’t know if the fact that he told Dharma that he’s seen this before implies that Caulder has od’d and he had to take care of it, or if he’s had to deal with overdoses in general. My guess is Caulder because of Joe instantly asking if it was oxy.

Joe is always taking care of Alex. Flashback to the infamous “your finger or mine” scene LMFAOOOO. But it speaks volumes on both of their characters.

This moment makes me want to DIEEE… I love their friendship. A man who can’t take care of himself and a man who takes care of the ones he loves.

HELP

Ghost wasn’t even looking for you two. He just needed to grab a goddamn med kit. That’s it. A simple in-and-out trip to the supply closet.

But the moment he opened the door, he knew.

Grunting. Breathing. Whispers. The thud of something hitting metal.

He paused in the doorway, completely still, staring into the dim room as his brain registered what he was seeing.

Soap. Shirt halfway off. Neck covered in bite marks. Mouth open in some silent, stunned expression of praise the lord and ruin me more. Hands gripping the edge of a crate like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

And you? Pressed against him. One hand buried in his hair, the other dragging slowly down his back, nails scratching like you were claiming territory.

You didn’t even look away when Ghost appeared. You just kept your body flush with Soap’s, breath brushing against his ear as you looked directly at Ghost and said,

“Occupied.”

Soap finally realized they weren’t alone, eyes wide as he choked out, “*Ghost—fuck—*this isn’t—”

Ghost held up a hand. “Nope.”

Just turned around and closed the door without another word. Stood in the hallway for a moment. Processing.

Then muttered, “They’re gonna burn this place to the ground and call it foreplay.”

He walked away. Found Gaz.

“Don’t go in the supply closet.”

Gaz blinked. “Why not?”

“They’re in there.”

Gaz paused. “Doing what?”

Ghost didn’t stop walking. “Pick a verb.”

pov: movie night with the riley’s 🫶

Me on tumblr.

I love the idea of Simon being a lovey dovey man, but him being more emotionally absent/not *really* there (in a sense that hes physically there but not THERE. yk?) is more realistic, at least before he learns, i can imagine he was taught this way bcs of his father,

simon, who takes you for granted.

simon, who got used to sleeping the problems away, and waking up in the morning to tea made just for him. you always add honey, and he's got used to the aftertaste

neither of you talk about it. he doesn't mention it, for one, and you never seem to hold it against him in the morning, so he always keeps quiet. it's peaceful like that. comfortable

simon, who doesn't feel the need to hold you at night because you're always upset, no matter what he does or what he says, so he gives you space

simon, whose eyes wander from time to time, lingering

you, and the way your hands stop reaching out to him one day

simon, who doesn't understand it when you bring up divorce

you, packing your bags and leaving him with a small smile. you don't text, you don't come back, you give no explanation

goodbye

simon, who can only sip his whiskey, hoping it can numb the growing pain in his chest

and it hits him, weeks later, that you meant it

you're done

simon, who is alone again

buy me a coffee