Stan Pez For Clear Skin.

This blog is dedicated to collecting receipts of Ableism and ableistic users.

I am not here to start or engage in discourse, just collect receipts of Ableism that I see.

If you see an ableistic post, note, thread or user, just @me on the ableistic thing you want me to look at and I will look into it.

The ask box and submissions are open. Submissions are for screenshots of Ableism, the ask box is primarily open for suggestions of ableistic users to look at.

Some things to keep in mind:

The owner of this blog is mentally ill and mentally disabled in multiple ways.

They are also a minor.

This is a side blog and not my main.

Aizawa tells Eri fantastical stories about how he lost his leg.

“A dragon bit it off,” He tells her with a nod at the cane that’s already decorated with Eri’s stickers. “I barely felt it.”

He isn’t sure if she believes him but at least she doesn’t know the truth.

He can’t bring himself to ever tell her- that the real reason it’s gone is because he had to cut it off himself to stop the spread of the quirk erasing bullet, a bullet made from Eri’s own body.

He’d much rather her think that a dragon bit it off, as illogical as it sounds.

No one else is allowed to tell her.

“What kind of dragon was it?” Eri presses him one morning when Aizawa’s still in the rehab hospital. “What color?”

“Red,” Aizawa immediately answers. “It was a big one. It didn’t breathe fire but it had the biggest teeth I’ve ever seen.”

“It didn’t breathe fire?“ Eri is incredulous. For a six year old, she’s smart. She’s probably never heard of a dragon that doesn’t breathe fire.

So Aizawa tells Mic to get her a book on dragons and he brings back a huge, thick hardcover book that Eri immediately delves into.

The girl can barely read and she’s got her nose in this huge 500-page book filled with pictures and stories about dragons. Aizawa has to help her with words every few seconds and eventually she curls up with him on the hospital bed so they can read together.

At one point, Aizawa sees a picture of a giant red dragon with huge teeth.

"That one,” He says, pointing at it. Next to him, Eri startles, turns her wide red eyes to the drawing. “That’s the one that bit my leg off. But I won.”

“Woah,” Eri cooes, staring at the picture as she holds the giant book in her tiny little hands. “Those teeth are big. Did you kill it?”

“No,” Aizawa says, thinking of Shigaraki. “But he won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

At least, that’s what he hopes.

Aizawa can hope, can’t he? He can as long as Eri’s here, curled up at his side, her mind full of ideas and images of dragons. She’s probably picturing the battle right now, of Aizawa fighting a giant red dragon.

It doesn’t hurt her to let her believe this.

But it would hurt her if she knew the truth.

So Aizawa lets her believe that some fantasy creature bit his leg off- because he doesn’t want her to know that it was a bullet made from her own body that made him cut it off.

As long as Aizawa has a say in it, she’ll never find out.

Whenever she becomes skeptical…

…He’ll just make up another story for her.

“i complain about tumblr but i refuse to leave unless the site itself deactivates” squad

You just said you had a problem with contraception, you think people can’t read now?

I said i don't agree with it

You said i don't allow women to make choices for their bodies.

Right...

I don't know why you are taking things out of context.

Rewatching "The Boiler Room Job" and they really did just give Eliot a machete and set him loose in the jungle with an asshole conman ceo huh

all azhar does is exhibit authority issues, act dramatic, plot revenge, set shit on fire, commit atrocities, simp for ella and cry

WHAT IS WRONG WITH US?

Holding rag in this darkness, I keep cleaning the rotten carpet of ethics. Knees are bruising, But my hands keep moving, The mind can’t comprehend how to stop. Eyes can’t adapt to the pitch dark. But ears are alert, Realization dawns, You all are here too.

Some scratching softly, Some rubbing too vigorously. I know that I’m not alone. How come there are so many of us? Trying to remove these stains in the darkness, and hoping for a glimpse of white. Cleaning this tainted carpet of ethics.

What is wrong with us? This house is full of bodies without guts. Few are dancing like puppets, freed on the condition of being muppets. Some keep peeing all over it, Others keep cleaning all their shit. The smell of this home is atrocious, It makes me nauseous.

They are covering the skin of God in red, and if we whispered, we are bad. If and only if, I can know about their scale, I might try not to fail.

Let’s get a new carpet. Stop dreaming about turning this obsidian into white.

LEPTIR CHAHAR

g…gritty did what now…