zsasz // bea.

“i knew you were gone.” lars sometimes wondered if he was vocal enough about his affection for beatrice. he knew that she knew that he loved her, but he wasn’t sure that she believed it. she was often seen as trouble, sure, he knew that, but he dealt in trouble. he knew trouble like the back of his hand, and lars would wager that she was less trouble, and more troubled. she could stir the pot, but in lars’ unprofessional, armchair psychologist’s opinion, he was of the belief that a lot of beatrice’s acting out was less intentional than it came across, and was actually just the consequences of self-destructive decisions.

and lars had noticed when she was gone. it hurt that she didn’t let him know she’d be taking off, but it didn’t surprise him. and when she came back, it was just a relief that she came back alive. half of this fear was mob instinct, something he’d learned at a young age, but he also knew beatrice well, and the idea that she would go off to die seemed, to him, like something she would do. “let’s unpack that.” lars said softly, taking her hand properly now for a friendly squeeze. “i’d like to know what that means.”

she took a deep breath, looking up at the sky like someone who actually believed there was some large, omnipotent, omnipresent being playing puppeteer with their lives. it felt weird to look up and almost search for something now, as someone who didn’t believe in anything or anyone, not even herself. it felt foolish to look for some kind of reassurance that her life would make sense one day.  ❝ starting with the obvious, then. ❞ there was a laugh sitting at the back of her throat, as she was painfully aware of how pathetic her upcoming words were. ❝ i know i pulled a runaway bride last year, so this might be surprising to hear, but — ❞ she paused for a second; saying it, admitting the one thing she believed it was wrong, became harder than expected. ❝ i actually believed that i’d marry asher one day. and i know that’s dumb, because i was the only one who prevented that from happening, but...i don’t know. ❞

lysander was really unsure of what to do with himself. as much wasn’t unusual, but it always rendered him a little useless in conversations in which he was uncomfortable. he at least new that beatrice wasn’t intentionally malicious. he never got the vibe that she went out of her way to be mean, only that she had a habit of making mistakes and had very little drive to solve problems when they arose. at least, that was what he’d gathered – if he was wrong, he’d probably never know. he didn’t want to go out of his way to find out.

“you weren’t expecting to see me… at paragon? where i… go to school?” he asked, trying to understand what she’d meant. “what–?”

she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and find herself somewhere else once she opened them. teleport herself out of this situation. but of course, she deserved this. she deserved every little bit of awkward and painful that permeated their interactions. this was her punishment ( or, at least, part of it ), for being such a goddamn reckless idiot, going around fucking with everyone in her way.

* closed starter for @honcybea / “shadows do tend to follow you though, that’s how they work.”

“always the smartass.” classic bea. she couldn’t say she hadn’t missed it. in spite of the comment, sia had momentarily forgot herself and the bounds of their forever new ( lack of ) dynamic - GRINNING back at her. it was hard to remain on edge when the face behind was as familiar as hers, and the younger woman didn’t want to fight that. bea had been a FRIEND, once. the best one that sia had, for a long while. there had been a point where she had never imagined it would come to an end, and while it was true that it still had ; she had always wished things were different. “touche. they also tend to move far quieter, but who am i to point such a thing out? it’s…- i’m happy to see you, bea.”

laughing softly at her whine, lars reached out and touched bea’s hand lightly. it was a gesture of comfort, one of solidarity, and a playful nudge in response to her words. lars loved bea. she was one of his closest friends, and somebody he always felt responsibility for. she was as good as a sister to him, and if he could lighten the load for her, he would do it, no questions asked.

“yeah, go on.” he grinned, looking over at her. she always had something interesting to say, something that was always different to what he would say, and he liked to hear what she was thinking. and if she was upset or hurting in someway, he felt it was his job to fix what he could. face settling into a more somber expression as she spoke, lars hummed. “it’s nice to have you back, but what’s the strange thing about it?”

few people touched bea with no intention beyond comforting her. just the simple feel of skin against skin in the most platonic way, a simple act of recognition, of acknowledgment, was a strange sensation for her. lars meant the world to her, even if she was bad at showing it. she’d never been good at expressing her appreciation for others ( in fact, she was adept at making them believe she didn’t care at all ), but she had always been grateful for lars. no matter how many times she disappeared, how hard she pushed him away, he was always there. the older she got, the less people stuck around her like he did.

already had the dress. might as well wear it.

she huffed, putting her knives down on the counter perhaps a little harder than perhaps necessary. her nostrils flared, but she turned away from bea so the older woman wouldn’t see her face. the word desensitized rushed over the younger girl for some reason brought about a whole boat load of anger she’d been storing since she’d heard bea was dead, and then not dead suddenly. in fact, this anger came so suddenly she had to get it out somehow, so she let out a high-pitched growl, tossing her final knife clattering to the bathroom floor. it wasn’t at anyone, not even a graceful throw, hilt clattering against the ground first, bouncing to the ground uselessly.

“yeah people tend to get curious about zombies, bee. don’t die next time, huh?”

the older woman flinched, taken aback by the sudden outburst. the younger members of the mob ( if they could be called that ) were always volatile, sure. most people from gotham were unexpected and volatile, but she hadn’t expected such a strong reaction from daisy at the mention of a shower. it was more than that, of course, but bea hadn’t thought of it.

‘ oh… it’s you. ’ // @honcybea !!

wow. first he got stuck in an elevator with jason todd, and now this.

not that he considered beatrice zsasz a this; he knew she was a human being, with thoughts and feelings, but lysander genuinely wondered if she could say the same about him. and why would she? why would he mean anything to her, when he only got in her way?

of course, he might not be spiraling so much if he hadn’t already reconnected with quin. the redhead wasn’t not going to let her shoulder her way past him to… to… whatever she and quin used to be. if the two men had not reconnected at this point, he might have lied down and let her win – but not now. not when he was so, so close to getting back on track.

“yes. it is. c-can…” breathe, sandy. “can i help you with s-something?”

like so many people who were much too soft and fragile to be at arm’s length from bea, lysander had been another casualty of her carelessness. she never set out to hurt him, she never did. in fact, she didn’t even know what she did with quin would end up hurting someone else, she had no way of knowing. now, was there guilt ? a little. she couldn’t lie. the zsasz girl was softer than her everything would suggest, and she didn’t particularly enjoy breaking hearts, despite the frequency with which she did it.

‘ it’s been a strange year all around. ’ // @honcybea !!

humming softly in agreement, lars tilted his head back to look at the girl sitting next to him. as troubled and troubling that she was, the mobster would always have a soft spot for her. she was one of the closest friends he had, even if he was one of the many people that didn’t know where she went for long stretches of time. that didn’t matter. not now, not now that she was back for however long she deemed necessary.

“you think so?” his garden was small, but it was nice to lie down on his grass and gaze upward into the skies. it wasn’t often she was soft or vulnerable, but if there was any chance to get her to open up ( even if only a little ), he’d take it. “would you like to share with the class?”

the words had come out of her mouth thoughtlessly ( like everything she said and / or did ). it wasn’t like she had made a groundbreaking discovery, or said something controversial. had any of them lived through a normal year ? ❝ yeah, ❞ she said simply. obviously. like there wasn’t much too it. like there was no deeper meaning to her words, there never was.

daisy groaned, bounced in place, groaning more, “beaaaaaaa,” until she finally gives a large scoff, stomping into the bathroom, “FINE– but i need a towel and other clothes unless you want me running around in the nude,” she calls, beginning the process of pulling out the knives she kept handy, “it’s not like you never smelled blood and mud mixed together, wimpy.”

@honcybea​

“beatrice.” he says her name with the exasperation of someone who has seen an insect in their house when they’d thought they’d rid themself of the infestation. still, there’s something to be said of her resilience—he’s starting to wonder if he should bet on her instead of cockroaches to survive the apocalypse. “i’d heard you were dead. my sources are rarely wrong and i know you would not put so much effort into… anything. so, how did you do it?”

* — TASK 03 // there is a sweetness for us to push our faces into

* — TASK 03 // never losing, only using all your moving parts