Those posts going round about Amazon are not hugely accurate – for a start, the dates are like an entire week off (meaning people reading them will end up doing their delayed buying during the actual Spanish walk out), most of those countries in that one list are not involved and half the articles about Spain are from March – but I considered how exhausted arguing about this with a bunch of 20 year olds accusing me of being some kind of Neoliberal Shill for pointing out factual inaccuracies would be and have decided to just scroll past.
There is an anti-Amazon protest happening today but it’s due to them helping ICE and running their ads on Breitbart.
summary: i’m super close to finishing my degree but i’m broke and need help paying my last semester’s tuition so i can afford to finish it and not drop out when i’m 93% of the way done. need to make $1200, so 24 $50 full-colour waist emergency commissions are open now. please help me out! paypal: sa.bouraleh@gmail.com. for examples of my art, you can check here
hey ok so i have to make $1200 to pay off my tuition for last month to be able to register for the fall term this month since the tuition balance is hella overdue and financial struggles meant i couldn’t sort it out in time and now i’m trying to play catch up before i have to spend another year at home with homophobic af mom (i just recently came out to her) and i’m feeling pretty trapped right now
the $2100 is for the previous balance for last semester, and then i have to pay a $500 tuition deposit for this semester to register for the last two courses i need to complete my program.
i’m 93% of the way completed with this art program and i really really REALLY don’t want to have to drop out because i can’t afford my last two courses after i spent two years working hard as hell to make my dreams as an artist come true.
i’ll try and make the $500 for the tuition myself through my job (i don’t get anywhere near enough hours and i’m looking for another job as well), while also taking care of the bills in this house that are getting left by the wayside while i try to ensure that i can at least continue my education in september. but that’s a problem for another time.
basically right now if i’m to make the $1200, i’m offering to do 24 $50 commissions, 12 $100 commissions whatever the hell you want. the first is probably more realistic, and i can devote more time to doing a good job on them while cranking them out relatively quickly.
i’m offering full-colour waist commissions for $50. 24 slots are open. please provide references for what you’re requesting so i can do my best to give you a stellar work of art.
if it’s possible, i’ll open up four more extra slots so I can make $200 and get a proper passport as well as prepare to get shit in order in case I do have to fly the coop and start over for the first time on my own. a scary prospect, but probably going to be my reality soon. i’m trying to be proactive for once, so please help me out here.
if you can afford $10 or $20 – $25, i’ll do sketch commissions or flat colour instead. whatever works for you.
please reblog/signal boost. help me finish my art degree!
I also take donations obviously but I think I’d prefer actual commissions because it’s good practice for my art skills
Mariah
called Hernán into her
office for a private chat. On her desk was a box wrapped in ribbon.
Hernán
stopped and waited for her to
hand it to him but Mariah did not budge.
“What
are you waiting for? Open
it!” she commanded.
Hernán
walked toward the desk, picked up the box, and undid the ribbon. In
the box was the three piece suit, neatly folded. Hernán turned back
toward Mariah and pulled off his sunglasses so she could see the
gratitutde in his eyes. With all the time they had spent at the
tailor’s measuring and remeasuring, everything was going to fit
perfectly. It was the most expensive piece of clothing Hernán had
ever owned. He made a note to himself not to get any blood on it.
Mariah
called Hernán into her
office for a private chat. On her desk was a box wrapped in ribbon.
Hernán
stopped and waited for her to
hand it to him but Mariah did not budge.
“What
are you waiting for? Open
it!” she commanded.
Hernán
walked toward the desk, picked up the box, and undid the ribbon. In
the box was the three piece suit, neatly folded. Hernán turned back
toward Mariah and pulled off his sunglasses so she could see the gratitude in his eyes. With all the time they had spent at the
tailor’s measuring and remeasuring, everything was going to fit
perfectly. It was the most expensive piece of clothing Hernán had
ever owned. He made a note to himself not to get any blood on it.
“Thank
you,” Hernán said. He leaned in to kiss her but she put a finger
to his lips.
“Not
yet,” Mariah replied. “Take the suit out of the box gently.”
Hernán
nodded and did as he was told. Under the suit was a pair of lacy
black panties and, under that was a pair of fishnet thigh-highs.
“I’ve
always wanted to see you in
a nice pair of lingerie,” Hernán
said with a wry grin as he handed the lingerie to her.
Mariah
returned his grin with a grin of her own. “I did not buy that for
me,” she said. Then she slowly
wrapped a hand around his wrists and
squeezed them together. “If
I wanted to buy lingerie for myself, you would have seen me wearing
it by now.” She pushed his
hands back toward his chest
and leaned forward, pinning
him against her desk. “I bought that for you.”
Hernán felt his
cheeks grow hot before he could stop himself. Mariah’s grin
deepened at the sight of him so flustered. “I…” he croaked, his
throat had gone dry and he could barely get any words out. “I…”
Arousal flooded his mind, banishing his other thoughts.
“You can say thank
you,” Mariah suggested.
“Thank you,”
Hernán repeated. “Thank you and…” he trailed off.
“And what?”
Mariah asked.
“How did you
know?”
****
It was late at
night at Seagate but Hernán and Darius were still awake. They were
in Darius’s bunk, enjoying one of the few moments of quiet they
could get in prison.
“So, when we
get out, what’s the first thing you wanna do?” Hernán whispered.
“Aw shit man,
that’s a good question,” Darius replied before squeezing Hernán’s
hand. “I’d go to Club A and order a tri-tip steak and a glass of
wine. How about you?”
“I’d go to
Harlem’s Paradise, buy a bottle of whisky—top shelf—and party
all night.”
Darius nodded.
“A’ight.”
Their eyes met
and they stopped talking. Darius traced lines across Hernán’ palm
with his thumb.
“I know one
thing,” Darius said breaking the silence. “When I get out, I’m
buying something nice. A silk shirt and a suede jacket. I’m so
godamned tired of this orange. Makes me look like a big black
pumpkin.”
Hernán laughed
quietly.
“I’ll buy
something for you too B,” Darius continued. “A three piece suit
for me, some silk lingerie for you.”
Hernán raised
his eyebrows. “What?”
Darius laughed
and shook his head.“I’m just playin’ man.”
Hernán flashed
him a dimpled smile. “You don’t think I’d look good in it?”He
asked.
Darius returned
his smile and gave him a quick kiss. “You look good in everything
B,” he said.
They kept talking
until Hernán had to go back to his own bunk for the nightly count.
The whole time, he tried not to let it show that Darius made him feel
something he hadn’t felt before.
In the nights
that followed, Hernán thought about Darius stripping him down until
all he was wearing was lingerie and admiring how it looked on his
svelte tattooed body. Then, when Hernán was tired of putting on a
show, Darius would tear the lingerie down to his ankles, and fuck him
until he couldn’t think straight. Yet he never told anyone, least
of all Darius, about how he felt. That is, until Mariah found a way
to coax it out of him anyway.
****
Shades
stormed into a Dominican chop shop with his gun raised.
“I’m
only going to ask you this once, where is the money?” He
threatened.
“I
don’t have it yet, just give me more time please!” The shop owner
pleaded back. He was a balding middle aged man in a wife beater
named…Arturo?…Alberto?…Shades had trouble remembering.
Shades
shook his head. “You somehow managed to cross both the Trinitarios
and the DDP and so you came running to us. Protection ain’t cheap
and it’s time to pay up.”
“I
know I know and I will have it but-”
Shades
turned to give a quick ‘go ahead’ glance to Sugar. His larger
accomplice nodded back, then grabbed a baseball bat from behind the
counter and began smashing the windows of the stolen cars. Shades
could tell from the color draining out of Alberto’s face that his intimidation was working.
“Stop!
Stop!” Alberto…yes! That was it!…cried out.
“Sugar
here doesn’t like working for free,” Shades pontificated. “He
appreciates timely payment, in full for services provided, as
do I.” There was something about Mariah’s suit that gave him an
aura of sophistication he had previously lacked. Knowing how to gain
power over others, and how to wield it, an art Shades had mastered
with decades of practice. It was a delicate balancing act that kept
him alive inside of prison and out. Yet, in Mariah, he had found
someone who he could trust with relinquishing it entirely
“Surely
we can work some sort of deal,” Alberto whimpered.
“Perhaps,”
Shades replied. Then he gave another glance at Sugar, who stopped his
mayhem but continued to hold the baseball bat at his side. There was
something liberating to that trust Shades had for Mariah. The black
lacy lingerie he was wearing under his suit was a reminder of that.
Before he could stop himself, he began to think about her on top of
him, binding his wrists together with his own silk tie, tearing off
his slacks, pulling the lingerie down with her teeth and then
stroking his stiffening-
Then
Shades remembered where he was, and the fantasy stopped. Most of the
time, such thoughts were not unwelcome but he hated it when
they interrupted him during work. He could feel the blush spreading
across his face and a bulge forming in his pants. He would have to
think of something fast before anyone noticed.
He
fired his gun in front of Alberto’s feet. The discharge echoed
through the walls of the chop shop. Alberto’s whimpering and
pleading grew louder.
“Give
me one good reason why I shouldn’t aim a little higher next time,”
Shades asked.
Alberto
didn’t reply, but he slowly turned his head to the desk behind the
counter.
Without
putting the gun away, Shades backed over to the desk and began
pulling papers out and throwing them on the floor. Then he found a manila envelope, reached into it, and pulled out a three ring binder
filled with signed baseball cards. Collateral.
“We’re
taking these,” he said.
“And
the bat,” Sugar added.
“And
the bat,” Shades repeated. “And giving you three more days to
come up with the money. After that, protection ends, you’re on your
own, and Sugar here might come back to play a bit of baseball with
your kneecaps. Understood?”
“Thank
you,” Alberto squeaked.
Shades
returned his gratitude with a smirk. Then him and Sugar walked out.
Another job well done for the Queen of Harlem.
After
Hernán
and Sugar returned to
Harlem’s Paradise, they
had their Wednesday staff meeting. As usual, Mariah had everyone
debrief what they had done the over the week and what they had
learned from it. What was new was how Mariah was looking at Hernán.
She was taking in how he looked in the suit, how it fit every curve
in her body, and she was also
undressing him with her
eyes, imagining how he
would look when the suit was in a pile on the floor. Hernán
let her take it all in.
He wanted to look
beautiful for her, in a suit and in lingerie both.
But
when it was Hernán’s
turn to debrief, the bemused expression on her face disappeared.
“I’m
afraid we are going to have to cut the meeting short today,” Mariah
said. “You may go.”
Mariah’s
accomplices all turned to exit but she put a hand on Hernán’s
arm before he could leave.
“Not
you Hernán,”
she said.
Hernán
stopped and turned
around.
“You
made a mistake today,” she said. “And for that you need a
dressing down.”
Hernán
looked at her
dumbfounded.
“That
means you strip. Now,” Mariah ordered.
The
command went straight to
his groin. All day he had been anticipating the moment when he could
show her how he looked, and that moment had finally arrived. The
shades came off first,
which Hernán
put on Mariah’s desk.
Then, with his heart pounding in his ears, he unbuttoned
his shirt and waistcoat. He folded both of them and put them on one
of the chairs facing the desk. Then he
undid his belt and the buttons on his slacks. He untied his shoes
next, put them off by his shirt and waistcoast, and then shimmied out
of his pants. As he stood before her wearing just the lingerie,
Hernán
became more aware about how the fishnets made his legs look longer
and more shapely. How the panties made his ass and hips look curvier
and his growing bulge more noticeable. Though she would not admit to
it, he
could tell that Mariah
noticed too and the sight was taking her breath away.
Mariah
got up and began to circle around him.
“You
said you intimidated a businessman today, is that correct?” Mariah
asked.
“Yes,”
Hernán
replied. “Because he was late on giving us the money.”
Mariah
ran her hand across his bicep. “I don’t need to hear excuses
Hernán,”
she said.
“Understood.”
“This
isn’t going to be how it was with Cornell,” Mariah continued as
she traced her hand up from his bicep and across his collarbone. “He
had you act like common street thugs. Smashing things, yelling,
beating people up. That will not who we are. Not anymore.”
“With
all due respect,” Hernán
began
while reaching out to put his hands on her waist. “We
have a reputation to maintain.”
Mariah
shoved his hands back to his sides with enough force that he
understood he wasn’t allowed to touch her.
“Yes
we do Hernán,
as a dependable
organization that people can come to for help,” she retorted. Then
she moved her hands across his chest and began to trace circles
around his nipples with her index fingers. They hardened at her touch
and his breath hitched. “You
said Arturo was in trouble with the Trinitarios and the DDP correct?”
“Y-yes,”
Hernán
replied
“That
means he had nobody to turn to, nobody but us,” Mariah said as she
moved her hands toward his shoulderblades and down the small of his
back. “Do you know what happens to people when they are desperate
Hernán?”
Mariah asked as she gave
his ass a light squeeze.
“I…um…”
Hernán
could barely speak.
“They
look to the person who is giving them the most,” Mariah continued
as she moved one hand across the back of his thigh and the other one
down the strip of hair below his belly button. “The trick is to
give them just enough…” she moved her palm across his
cock from the head down the shaft. He bit back a whine and tried to
keep his legs from shaking. “…that they become completely devoted
to you.”
Mariah
dropped her hands to her sides. “So
the next time you find someone in a desperate situation, you don’t
smash up their store or threaten to shoot them. You tell them ‘we
understand, these are desperate times’ and you make them sell only
to you, or you ask them to store your contraband, or you ask them to
launder your money. They will be happy to help and will think you are
doing them a favor.” Then Mariah looked right at him as if
expecting a reply.
“Of…course,”
Hernán
acknowledged breathlessly. His cock was straining against the silk
and he was almost begging
for her to keep touching it.
“You
are patient listener Hernán.
Do you want a reward?”
“Yes!”
he squeaked.
“Mmmm,”
Mariah hummed. Then she sat back on her desk, removed her own
panties, and spread her legs. “Come here,” she
ordered.
An
eager grin spread across Hernán’s
face. He walked up to her and dropped to his knees. Then he hitched
up her dress with his
hands, pushed her thighs
further apart, and
nestled his head between them.
As
he moved his tongue
across her clit, Hernán
felt the fishnets rub
against the carpet and the silk brush against the back of his feet.
He knew that he looked
sexy as he was pleasuring her and, from the times that he looked up
at her, he could tell that she was enjoying the view. She cried out
when he began to lick her entrance, which was already wet from how
she had been stroking and teasing him. She reached out and pushed his
head further into her and she would not let go until she came over
and over. He hummed with contentment as he kept licking and sucking her.
He knew how much he was giving her, and how much she admired him.
Once
Mariah felt like she had enough, she pushed his head gently away from
her. He rested it across her lap and shut his eyes. She ran her hands
through his hair, massaging his scalp.
“You’re
growing your hair out Hernán.
I like it.”
“I
like your…everything,” Hernán
replied into her thigh.
Mariah
laughed before she could stop herself.
“Baby,
you make me feel,” he
continued, the words tumbling out of him before he could stop
himself. “Like no woman has ever made me feel.”
Mariah
leaned over and kissed his forehead. “And how is that?” She
asked.
He
thought of how he looked face down in her lap while
wearing lingerie. It was
a sight that would make most of the women he’d been with laugh at
him, and call
him names he did not want
to repeat even to himself.
Then they’d throw him
out and tell their friends, who’d tell their friends until everyone
knew and his life would be at risk. But
Mariah guessed it was something he would want and, rather
than hold that against him,
she wanted him to wear it. What
could he say that would convey just how freeing
that was?
The “somebody else” King was referring to was immigrants – specifically, brown immigrants from Latin America. Them and their children, for King, represent an existential threat to the American republic. And while King stands apart for the explicitness with which he indulges in racist rhetoric, he is not alone in the construction of immigrant births as threat. The term “anchor baby” – used by Donald Trump, yes, but also Jeb Bush – also presents it as illicit, even dangerous, when immigrants give birth inside the United States.
This is not a post about immigrants, exactly. It is a post about abortion. And particularly, it is a post about the possibility of government actors coercing or compelling women (particularly women under the custodial authority of the state) to have an abortion.
People scuff at this prospect – less based on law than based on their own lack of imagination. Who in government might want mandatory abortions? Why, the pro-life movement wouldn’t stand for it!
Which is why I bring up the view of Mr. King and his cohort. It is entirely plausible that King and his cohort could come to believe that it is permissible – even a national security imperative – that immigrant women not be allowed to birth their “anchor babies” on our shores. They already possess and wield the language that presents the prospects of such births as a wrong, even a threat. Do you really think him and his would really have a problem with someone forcibly terminating an immigrant mother’s pregnancy? Do you really think they’d even struggle to justify it? The only question would be whether they’d politely avert their eyes or outright endorse the practice.
Everything about the contemporary state of right-wing politics suggests that this is not an idle fear. The average conservative hardly bats an eyelash if horrific conditions in ICE custody cause immigrant women to miscarry. Pro-life has never extended that far, after all – it is a movement primarily about controlling women, not saving babies. Forcible births and forcible abortions are two sides of the same coin; the preference depends on the woman involved.
Or take it another step: Remember that infamous case where the Trump administration tried to prevent an undocumented immigrant teenager from procuring an abortion? Judge Kavanaugh’s dissent assumed for sake of argument that the girl had an abortion right, but argued that the government could temporarily refuse to honor it if it could secure her an immigration sponsor with sufficient rapidity. But one Judge, Karen Henderson, went further – in her opinion, undocumented immigrant minors exist in a lawless space, devoid of any rights over their own body at all by virtue of their illegal entry (Judge Kavanaugh, for his part, did not join that opinion). The logic of Henderson’s dissent, at least, would apply equally if the government – whipped into a hysteria that “demographics are destiny” (to use another Steve King-ism) – sought to compel her to abort her child.
The thing is, Roe v. Wade does not protect, or does not solely protect, a woman’s right to an abortion. It protects a woman’s right to choose an abortion – or not. And in a world without Roe, it isn’t clear what judicial doctrine would render it unlawful for a government actor to compel or coerce a woman (particularly a woman under custodial authority of the state) to have an abortion.
Indeed, it’s far from clear what legal principle absent Roe would or could give a woman – again, especially women under the custodial authority of the state (which might include the incarcerated, immigrants, and some minors) – a constitutional right to continue her pregnancy as against a state official claiming authority to compel her otherwise. Roe answers that women have a right to bodily autonomy which vests in them a private right to make reproductive decisions for themselves. Knock off Roe, eliminate the constitutional reproductive autonomy right, and it’s replaced by … what exactly?
I don’t think there’s an answer – at least, not one that doesn’t swing entirely in the other direction and say that abortion is constitutionally impermissible (which, of course, would remain blissfully apathetic regarding the rights of women in favor of waxing lyrical over the rights of blastulae). So imagine this: Roe is overturned. The issue of abortion is, as promised, “returned to the states”. A few months later, a prison guard rapes an inmate and then, to cover up the crime, forces her to terminate the ensuing pregnancy. Is the latter act a constitutional violation? I don’t know that it is. Is it a clearly established constitutional violation (thank you, qualified immunity)? I don’t see how. The constitutional underpinnings that say women cannot be forced to involuntarily terminate their pregnancies rest entirely on Roe v. Wade – if that’s overturned, the best you can say about the state of that right is that it is up in the air.
It’s well known by now that the end of Roe will fall hardest on the poorest, most marginalized, and most vulnerable women – not surprisingly, the ones for whom “liberty” is barely given the pretense of acknowledgment whilst government authority is allowed near-boundless jurisdiction. But even this gives contemporary conservatism too much credit, as it suggests that ending abortion is the point. The fact that pro-life politics virtually never come tied to any sort of tangible commitment to expanding pre-natal care is a clue that the birthing isn’t the key variable – the control is. Sometimes you want to control women via compulsory motherhood, and sometimes … you don’t – but “pro-life” isn’t going to do any real work one way or the other. The tides of the contemporary right – replete with White nationalist themes, anxious to the point of obsession about becoming a minority in “their” nation – hardly are ones inclined to respect the rights of “someone else’s babies.”
Think I’m being hyperbolic? Answer me this: If reports emerged of ICE agents forcing immigrant women to abort their children, would Steve King utter a word against it? Would his “pro-life” instincts kick in? Or would he find that he’s … fine? Okay, even?
We know the answer. And the thing is, you don’t have to think Steve King is the be-all end-all of modern conservatism to concede that he represents a real and growing portion of it – a portion that no doubt has adherents amongst ICE enforcers, amongst authoritarian prison guards, amongst certain extreme (but less so everyday) pockets of fanatical racist and xenophobic authoritarians. If you don’t think some among them aren’t going to start endorsing “extraordinary measures” to ensure no babies get anchored, if you don’t think some among them aren’t going to turn to forced abortions as a means of covering up their own rape culture, you’re deluding yourself.
And ultimately, that’s all that’s necessary, because we won’t be talking about forced abortions as some sort of nationwide policy. We’d be talking about a patchwork of incidents and abuses and cover-ups and “oversights” that just so happen to fall upon the sort of women that the right doesn’t care about in the first place. It will be so easy to ignore them, so easy to say they brought it on themselves, so easy to let the majestic lattice of qualified immunity and formalist textualism conclude that they have no remedy.
I think we’ll see it. I really do (I know that if we do, the great bulk of the American conservative movement will not care one whit about it). It’s not going the only part of a Roe-less future, but it will be a part. Because when your jurisprudence denies that pregnant women have the right to choice what happens to their own body and your politics grows ever more ravenously xenophobic and your acknowledgment that immigrants, the poor, and the incarcerated nonetheless have rights shrivels into nothingness – the result of that cocktail isn’t any mystery.
Mariah and Shades both love the cold blooded nature of each other but also still want the tender affectionate warmth of each other. But at different moments.
Mariah wants Hernán when Shades wants gangster boss lady Mariah and Mariah wants Shades when Hernán wants his Mariah with a heart
YES! It’s so terrible and wonderful at the same time. The two of them will be the death of me.
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