”Nice to meet you, too!!” Angel stands on their hind legs and places their forepaws on the desk. “I’m the leader of Team Sunshine! My partner and I have been doing this for about nine years now! How about you two??”
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Archie is no longer available for questions.
Pan, Phoebe, and Scout are still open for questions, though!
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Los Angeles Department members (and those who can travel): you’re cordially invited to check out Spotify's library installation of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT April 16-18 from 10am-9pm at The Grove. 🤍📚
Entry is first come, first served and access is not guaranteed.
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Taylor Swift - The Eras Tour - Arlington, TX 03.31.23
photo by me. if using - credit @holdingfocus on tumblr & @amymckeonphoto on twitter/instagram
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How Fragile We Are
After Lilah's death, Wesley reflects on his own mortality and the fragility of life.
Lilah doesn't get a headstone. In all of the chaos and confusion she get's the same treatment as any stinking demon would have gotten. She's buried, head and body and there's no number left to call. If she has family somewhere they don't know she's gone.
Wesley is alone in his grief because no one else cares. What they had. . . he still doesn't even have a name for it and now he doubts he ever will.
The others don't understand. . . and it's not their fault they don't. He doesn't understand either but it hurts and he understands pain.
He understands it well but he's always been good at baring it so he does here, knowing she'll have no head stone and no flowers.
She might have liked flowers but only some dead women get them and she wasn't sentimental and she doesn't like anything any more.
The dead don't care if they get their flowers or stones, only the living care but he failed her in every way possible he thinks, so what's a few more failures on top of the heap?
A few more drops in the bucket?
He thinks about her some nights now, unable to free her from her contract with the devil. . . unable to save her even in death. . . these devil's laughing at him. . . their ancient, leering faces unforgiving and cruel.
All of his training to be a Watcher wasted. . . all of the years spent after meaningless. Lilah dead and whatever was between them gone like smoke in the wind.
These are Wesley's thoughts to bare. He doesn't have anyone to share them with and if he tried he's not sure he could even put them into words. How do you explain what you can't describe?
If they had had more time it might have been different. . . if they had been other people it might have been better and he can briefly imagine a fantasy where things were different but if they had been other people then it's unlikely they ever would have come together. Such thoughts are wasteful and useless. Impotent.
So Wesley bares his pain by himself, his grief that the others don't understand and don't want to understand. . . this thing that sets him apart from them. That probably always set him apart from other people.
He wonders if he'd ever had an inkling that he'd become like this and thinks back to school but it seems impossibly long ago and no, he never would have imagined it. He'd been so sure of himself back then. So arrogant and now he's ashamed of the useless fool he'd been then.
He wonders what he'll get when he dies.
He finds he doesn't much care if he get's his stone and flowers. He won't for sure then but even now he can't make himself care. Why should he? There are so many more important things to think about and he's lived with death for a while now. He's lived this way and he knows grave stones and flowers are meaningless. After all, what's he done worth lingering for? What's he done worth putting in stone except fail?
He think's he'd prefer to be cremated. Leave no trace. Like he was never here, like he never failed and fucked up.
He almost looks forward to that day.
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“Hey, there!” Angel greets the Pikachu and Luxio with a big, friendly smile. “My name’s Angel!! I’m part of a team, too!!”
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Scout, Phoebe, Archie, and Pan are still open for asks!! 💥
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