Help Me Get a Service Dog to Live a Better Life!!!
I have been waiting for years for and an opportunity like what I have just been given. I have been researching service dogs extensively for years, and now I have an opportunity to get a prospect for one…… but in 2 WEEKS! I need help funding the cost of the puppy as well as the flight ($2500 approx) to get across the country. While this has been on short notice please know that this has not been a rash impulse choice, this all has been in the making for sometime now, and there is already a dog picked out that is perfect for my needs. My community is ready and willing to support me through this process of training a service dog and think it could be one of the best things for my health.
Having a service dog would allow me to work a traditional job again, would allow me to have more freedom and autonomy, this is going to change my life in a very impactful way. I want to be able to leave my home without fear of passing out and falling, I want to be able to work again, I want to be able to get out and be a human being again, to finally have the ability to do things by and for myself!\ For the first time in a while I have hope for my future, hope that my quality of life can improve, hope to feel like me again.
Please if you can share and donate! This is vital to my health, my quality of life and future.
$2,600 GOAL!!!!!!!
CA: $sleepyhen
VN: wildwotko
Dm for Paypl
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you know what’s absolutely terrifying???? having to cut a baby’s nails………
Katsuki has to cut your baby’s fingernails when he discovers a tiny little scratch by her eye one morning. it’s barely there, a small thing, but it’s there, marring her little face nonetheless. he frowns at her when he holds her the next morning, her dreamy eyes alert and blinking up at him, she smiles.
“Now I gotta cut yer claws down,” he mutters to her, voice quiet as to not wake your sleeping form in the bedroom. he pads throughout the house with her chubby face resting on his shoulder, her gums gnawing at his bare skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.
he finds himself in a conundrum though, once he realizes just how fucking—how sharp the damn clippers are. they’re tiny, lavender in color, but they’re meant to cut though the nail with such precision. and yes, he’s a pro hero, has had to adopt the title of EMT, firefighter, emergency surgeon a few times in his life when need be.
but…those people weren’t his baby girl. they weren’t this tiny and precious, and they never looked up at him with a face so similar to his, it makes his heart squeeze tight in his chest. he frowns at her again, even deeper, and this makes her hiccup a little giggle, gummy smile spreading wide.
“You’re only gonna wear mittens from here on out,” he grumbles after a while, finally daring to pick up a tiny hand that she instantly curls around his thick finger. it’s the cutest image, he thinks to himself, but he catches sight of the jagged nail, the culprit. his heart squeezes even tighter though, when he realizes that he can’t protect her from every hurt in the world, even if the hurt comes from her own hands. and the realization is an aching one, but he tells himself that he, at least, can patch her up.
you walk in minutes later, find Bakugou curled over your daughter in the rocking chair he built for her room. his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. your daughter babbles to him the whole time, her sweet voice cooing the softest little noises that he responds back to.
“I know, I know,” he mumbles to her. “Ya don’t like baths, and don’t like your nails cut, either. What other shit do you hate, huh?” he asks, and she seemingly responds with a long, sighed out coo. it makes him smile, despite the way his hands slightly shake when he cuts the next nail. he’s terrified, of somehow hurting her even more, of cutting too close, of scratching her. but he treks on, and kisses her fat little fingers every time he clips another nail.
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Another crazy idea because I love toxic men, ghost and reader get into an argument and reader throws something at him so he shoves her into a wall. And then the next morning when things still havnt cooled off yet, ghost catches a glimpse of her back while she is getting in the shower and sees BRUISES ALL UP HER BACK and then he is like immediately sorry and tries to comfort her and apologize but reader is still shaken up because she never thought Simon would lay a land on her
you know what this made me sad and this makes me think of a ghost who is so angry, so detached from being simon riley that he still brings ghost home. can't separate it from himself, couldn't even bring himself to try. this is a ghost who has not reflected, not healed. so all he does is keep hurting things. this is the toxic ghost you asked for? this is the toxic ghost you'll get <3
(warning: dv themes and toxic/abusive relationships + a lot of references to the ghost comics. ghost is not a good man, fem!reader)
you're not even sure who started it at this point. it was probably you, as it usually is. when ghost comes home, he barely gives you the time of day. tells you "i love you" but it always feels like he doesn't mean it. can't look you in the eyes when he says it anyways. you think you've forgotten his touch.
your voice is raw and it hurts to tell him that "for the last fucking time, simon! all i'm asking is for you to just..."
"just what, huh?!" he rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. he doesn't know why he's this frustrated. doesn't think it's at you. has no choice but to direct it at you.
he has wounds still needing to scar over. you know of this. one of the first he decided to work on it with, thought it might help him get back to how it was when he was happier. when he didn't have all these ugly scars. when he still had his family. when he was still simon.
but you keep calling him that name. that stupid name, because that's who you're begging for. begging for him to show through that mask of his.
"you just... hurt me! i feel like you never even want to be here anymore, simon. i keep trying with you but you always push me away!" you're yelling again but he barely hears it.
"s'cause you're so fuckin' annoyin'," he mutterrs under his breath. that statement makes you pause. you grit your teeth as you stare at him through angry tears. it's the first time you've been quiet all night. he still doesn't give you another glance, just sitting on the couch and staring at his hands.
he knows you're trying to help him and love him like you want to. he knows that you do love him and that it's dwindling with every passing day at his own fault. the way you're so adamant on staying and helping him like he did with his mom and his brother. he's just not used to someone doing it back for him. 'sides, he's got nobody left now.
still has nightmares where he hurts women, especially the ones he cares about. and he's living it right now. for the first time, he looks up at you and takes in your hurt expression. he pities you. and he laughs.
it makes the hairs on your arms and neck stand up, raising your hackles and baring your teeth. you grab a random item from the shelf and swing it at him with all your might in hopes it'll crack him and he'll go back to being the simon you first met. maybe you could fall in love with him again. and it seems to snap him out of his stupor but it sends him into a frenzy.
his military reflexes, combined with something that strikes pure fear into you, make him surge forward and grab you by the collar. he pushes you against the shelves and gets into your face. the way you're pinned against the shelves has a level digging into your neck, another just below your shoulder blades, and your lower back. it hurts, maybe a little more than the way he looks at you. just barely. like he can't stand the sight of you. and you know the person in there is not your simon. that's ghost.
your ears are ringing and your survival instincts are going through the roof. you're not even sure what he's saying to you as he shouts and spits in your face. then he just looks down at you shaking like a leaf and realizes that all the fight in you has been beaten out of you. it sends the ghost to the back of his mind once he realizes there's nothing to fight against anymore. he finally gets to take you in. admires the brave face you put on even though you look like shit.
and he just walks away.
can't bring himself to say anything to you. knows none of it is going to help. doesn't have the decency to offer you the bed and make you sleep in the same room he attacked you in. he'll come up with a way to talk to you in the morning. he doesn't sleep anyways and he doesn't expect you to either.
in the morning, he finds you asleep in the kitchen instead. you couldn't bear to be in the living room after the echos of your shouting still bounced off the walls into your ears. so you are laying on the dinner table, arms folded, and a blanket and slipped off you and onto the floor. he grabs the thin blanket from the floor and that's when he sees them. your hair doesn't well conceal the bruises on your neck. his eyes trail over to the place where your shirt rides up and shows some light bruising on your back. he knows if he lifts it any higher than it might be an array of different shades of blues and purples.
"simon?" you rasp out and slowly lift your head. it's not in a sleepy way and more of a cautious way. similar to how he rises when he gets up from those night terrors, believing the skeletons to be back in his room with him.
"s'me," he says quietly. "should go shower." and he retracts from you since you're awake now. no sense in putting the blanket on and making you still sleep in an uncomfortable place. it's his way of trying to say sorry. like he's shuffling around it awkwardly. he knows if he does try to comfort you then it'd be ingenuine.
sensing this, you nod and get up to shuffle away to the bathroom. you stand in the doorway and try to come up with something to say, perhaps ease the tension. no matter how rattled up you were, how much you didn't want to believe that he raised his hands against you and berated you so easily... you wanted to hold onto that tiny sliver of hope for him and pray you could fix him.
"i still love you." you weakly put out. ghost just stares back at you and processes the words. he isn't sure how to respond to that, unsure of what answer he has at the ready. would he even mean it or would he be saying something to appease you?
"i don't think i'm good for you, luv." he tries to talk you down as if you're a scared child. he thinks in a way you are. but you still manage to impress him with the way you are so insistent on proving him wrong.
"can't we... can't we try, simon?"
it's something in the way he stares at you when you say it. sends you into a new realization that you'd been missing. for who knows how long. maybe weeks? months? since he first met you?
you'd thought with the way he was readily showing you his wounds and scars that you might have been close. how he so badly wanted to settle down after his brother did and even tried a go at it since his nephew prodded.
you thought that maybe you were his first love. but the way he looks at you with such sadness... confirms to the both of you that you won't be his last.
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