the weirdest thing is remembering or bringing up some innocuous element of your childhood/ your cultures everyday life for the first time in years and realizing…..its racist af
ive taken the leap, and mineapple is tabling (table…ing? table-having? verb please) at the Artist’s Alley at this year’s Supanova Brisbane!
alongside my friend and fellow nerdy artist subatomicbetty, i’ll be selling prints, bookmarks, and stickers of my art, so if you’ve seen any of our stuff and found yourself thinking hmm, i sure would like to see these collections of pixels brought forth into the physical plane then drop by and see what we have!
Hello! This is your F.I. anon (the one who keeps sending fics haha), and I wanted to send in some of my headcanons, if that’s okay! I was going to send an ask, but I thought it might get too long…
1. Kolivan is the first one to notice his feelings, but he will deny them to the bitter end. At first, it’s just admiring how well Keith fights and how willing he is to put everything aside for their missions, but eventually, he starts noticing how pretty Keith is, and how he seems to care about everyone more than (Kolivan thinks that) they deserve. And he starts associating Keith with really pleasant things, like being comforted or being appreciated. Or just being able to sit in silence without having to constantly think about Blade-related stuff.
2. Kolivan absolutely thinks that Keith is adorable. All of the Blades do. He’s just so tiny and feisty. He’s like a kitten to them, but one that could easily hold his own in a fight.
3. Once they get closer, Kolivan is a huge nuzzler. He just wants Keith to smell like him, and he doesn’t want anyone else thinking that Keith is available either.
4. A lot of times, they just sit together quietly, but sometimes Kolivan tells Keith about Galra customs. Keith likes learning about the more mysterious side of his heritage, and it’s nice sometimes for Kolivan to remember a time when things seemed so simple.
5. Secretly, Kolivan is jealous of Shiro. He doesn’t do anything super brash about it, but he always makes biting comments about it when they’re done making plans with the Voltron Paladins. He tells Keith once, “Your admiration for the Black Paladin is going to cloud your judgement one day.” and Keith’s like, “Oh? But whatever we have going on is just fine?” But eventually, he realizes why Kolivan gets so pissy after those times and tries his best to make him feel better. (In very Keith-like ways haha)
6. Kolivan and Keith are 100% that power couple where if someone messes with Keith and Kolivan steps in, the other person is like, “Oh, you gotta stand up and defend your little boyfriend?” and Kolivan’s like, “Actually, I just wanted to warn you about him.” Keith don’t need no man to defend him, you know, and Kolivan definitely likes that about him.
7. Even though Keith is, well… Keith, the human side of his lineage still makes him less volatile and more expressive than the rest of the BOM. He breaks up fights among the other Blades and always manages to get a handle on his own temper while most of them might lash out more. And he also shows that he cares for them, and mourns his fallen soldiers. He’s the Mom Friend of the group, no matter how much he hates it, and they all end up having a soft spot for him because he’s (somehow) the most affectionate one out of all of them. (The first time that he tells Kolivan that he did a good job on a mission, Kolivan is so confused and flustered that he doesn’t talk to him for the rest of the trip back to their base)
I was working an overnight shift at my job in Reynosa, Mexico, where I was cutting metal for parts used in assembling flatscreen televisions. I was working in my usual area, and the boss was pressuring us.
“I want you to work faster, because we need the material urgently,” he said.
I was moved to Machine 19, which can rip and cut metal and takes two hands to operate. It is heavy, weighing at least one ton, maybe two, and no one liked to work on it because it was too difficult. They always seemed to assign it to me.
I started work at 11pm. Around 2 or 2:30am, I was positioning metal inside Machine 19. My hands were actually inside the machine, because I had to push the metal in until it clicked into place.
That’s when the machine fell on top of them.
I screamed. Everyone around me was crying and yelling. They stopped the assembly line on the female side of the room, but the men were told to keep working.
Meanwhile, I was stuck. No one could lift the machine off my hands. They remained trapped for 10 minutes, crushed under the machine.
Finally, a few fellow employees created a makeshift jack to lift the machine up just enough for me to pull my hands out. I wasn’t bleeding very much, because the machine actually sealed the ends of my arms and forged them to the piece of metal. They took me to the hospital with the piece attached to my hands. The doctors were surprised when I showed up like that. I remember saying, ‘Take the piece off. Take it off.’ But they didn’t want to.”
My hands were flattened like tortillas, mangled, and they both had to be amputated. I lost my right hand up to my wrist and my left a little higher. I didn’t know how I’d ever work again.
Immediately, I started to worry about my children. I have six children at home, who were between the ages of 9 and 17 during the accident, and I am both mother and father to them. How would I take care of them now?
Working six days a week, I made 5,200 pesos a month ($400). Without my hands, I knew I wouldn’t even be able to make that much.
After five days in the hospital, I checked myself out. But I didn’t go home first. I went directly to the factory where I worked for HD Electronics. I asked to see the manager. He offered me 50,000 pesos ($3,800).
“I’ve lost both my hands,” I said. “How will my family survive on 50,000 pesos?”
“That’s our offer,” he said. “Stop making such a big scandal about it and take it.” I eventually got about $14,400 in settlement money under Mexican labor law, an amount equal to 75% of two years’ wages for each hand. But I knew I had to do better for my family. So I looked across the border, to Texas, where my former employer is based.
I found a lawyer with a nice office in a good part of town. I was sure he would help me. Instead, he said, “Go up to the international bridge and put a cup out and people will help you.”
I was devastated.
That’s when I decided to tell my story on television. That led me to Ed Krueger, a retired minister who vowed to find me the right lawyer. That lawyer was Scott Hendler at the law firm Hendler Lyons Flores, in Austin, Texas. Even though I could not pay, he helped me file a lawsuit against LG Electronics, which contracted with the factory where I worked. Finally, about 18 months after the accident, I had hope.
Then the judge in my case threw out the lawsuit on a technicality, saying LG had not been properly notified. I wasn’t even given a chance to respond.
It’s been four years since I lost my hands. I have trouble paying my mortgage, and I wonder: Was that first lawyer right? Will I end up on a bridge, holding a cup out in front of me?
I constantly wish that someone with a compassionate heart could help me get some prosthetic hands that are flexible, so I could actually do something. Right now, I can’t do much. I can do smaller things, and move some things around, but I can’t do anything for myself. I can’t even take a shower. My family is surviving on a small disability benefit from the government, the kindness of friends and because my oldest daughter is now working instead of pursuing her education.
I’ve worked in factories most of my life. I know I am not the first person to be injured. But more needs to be done to help the workers who are making the products that so many Americans buy. We don’t ask for even a tiny share of the billions these companies make. We are just asking for enough to take care of our families and, when we are hurt, to take care of ourselves, too.
I’m honored that I’ve been asked by Public Justice, a wonderful legal organization fighting on behalf of workers like me, to share my story. And I’m humbled that they’ve selected me to receive their Illuminating Injustice Award. That’s just what I hope to do: shine a light on the stories of workers, like me, so that the people who buy the products we make can understand a little about our lives, too.
I hope someone, somewhere, will hear or read my story and help prevent this from happening again. Because, while my hands are gone, the injustice for so many remains.
