i know that people being on their phones has become like a symbol of apathy and uncaring but so many people i know use social media to share love. like yesterday i got to watch a wedding livestreamed to everyone who couldn’t make it. i’ve seen my friend slowly learn how to cope with being a teen mom because of a massive outpouring of “mumblr” support + tips. i’ve seen my friends come out as gay, learn to cook, discover the flaws in their feminism, work for social change, make good life choices, go to amazing places, develop passions, form educated opinions, learn to love themselves. i’ve seen people post the bravest recovery posts and shy political posts and everything in between.
and i don’t honestly care how edgy you think your art is. what you’re telling me when you draw grey people looking at a white screen is that you don’t care what happens to the other people in your life.
but i do. i care about the boy i’m in a long distance relationship with, but i also care about people i’ve never met. i’ve been following some people for three years and genuinely care about their experiences. i’m glad you’re still in touch with the people you love, even if you’re not paying attention directly to me! i get happy when you finally dump him! i’m sad when your cat gets sick! i give a shit.
i don’t think technology is taking empathy away from us. i think it’s changing it.
I’ve seen a lot of fanart and fics where aged up Lance has scars on his skin,
and man do I dig that aesthetic, but what if it’s the opposite? What if healing
pods not only repair injuries to the point where there’s no scarring, but they
also repair old damage? Like, say, regenerating tissues and cells to the point
where the whole body is like brand new.
scar that Lance’s sister gave him when he was four? Gone. The old burn he had
when he was twelve and touched the stove? Like it was never there in the first
place. And siblings fight, and Lance has a lot of siblings, so he’s bound to
have many “battle” scars, but they’re wiped away, one by one
like they were
never there, like his past with his family never happened.
maybe at some point, when he only has so many scars left, Lance starts fearing
taking an injury, not because of pain and blood, but because that means another
trip to a healing pod. Another mark of his past, proof that he really is a boy
from Cuba, washed away like ocean foam. Maybe at some point, even if the injury
is severe enough to warrant a visit to the pods, but not quite severe
enough that it’d keep Lance from piloting Blue, he denies Coran when he
suggests he visit the infirmary. Maybe he wants to heal naturally, welcoming
new scars to join the old ones.
he learns to accept it, maybe he doesn’t. Maybe the birthmark on his hip is one
day wiped away, replaced by unblemished tanned skin, and maybe Lance stays up
till two crying because there’s so little left of who he used to be. What’s
left of him that hasn’t been stomped on by parades of war and sullied with
blood, tears and duty?
maybe, when years have passed and the universe is finally well off that they
can return home for a few vargas, maybe… Maybe Lance still looks the same.
Maybe all his visits to the healing pods; being exposed to their magic and
quintessence has regenerated him to the point where he still looks exactly the
same as he did when they snuck out of the Garrison that one oh so fateful
night. Maybe it’s been two years, maybe it’s been ten, but the Paladins all
look the same, to the dot, like they’re untouched by time. But Lance’s family doesn’t. His little sister, who used to only
reach Lance’s hip, all pigtails and freckles, maybe she’s now tall enough to reach his chest and
better at math than Lance will ever be. Maybe she has new scars Lance has never
seen or kissed away.
Maybe his mom has worry lines and grey hairs Lance knows she didn’t have when he last saw her, and maybe she talks less than he remembers. Maybe she has to pinch herself when she first sees her son after however many years, because he hasn’t changed a bit. Maybe she breaks into tears at the sight of him, and her hug is just as warm and three times as tight as Lance remembers.
Maybe his siblings give him a new scar to cherish before there’s another planet, another crisis that needs Voltron.