Liz. 23. She/her. I swear I used to do art. So far the only thing consistent about this blog is that it's hella gay and that I can't spell. Icon and Header by laberintodeofelia
If you would report an undocumented immigrant to ICE you would have reported me to the Nazis and I don’t fucking trust you
A note:
I live in a state where you “have to” report anyone you suspect of being undocumented (that wonderful hellhole of Arizona). Now in practice this law has fallen far short, thank goodness. But if you live in such a place and they start enforcing it, here is how you get around it:
Assume everyone who doesn’t speak English is visiting.
Never ask about their job, because if they tell you they work here then you know they’re not visiting. You see them a lot for several weeks or months? Hm. Someone in the family must be ill. That’s terribly tough. They always dress in old, ratty laborers’ clothes? I feel you, my dude, I can’t afford new clothes either, and my dad has the fashion sense of an aardvark, so sometimes it’s not even about “affording” them. They say they’ve been here for years? You must have misunderstood. Spanish isn’t your first language, after all. First and last name? It never came up, or you don’t recall–you meet a lot of people.
And then, if you’re asked: no, you haven’t seen anyone residing illegally in the United States. Just people visiting.
Almost impossible. Herculean effort. There are dents made, for sure, in the very soft part of your soul and psyche that makes it hard to continue to, you know– it’s hard. It’s hard, it’s not for the faint of heart. Being a person.
shuri constantly teases peter about how much more advanced wakanda is and he usually can’t tell that she’s kidding. he’ll be like “i should get some sleep now” and she’s like “you still have to sleep? lmfao” and peter lays awake trying to figure out if that was a joke
