#thank u ..

i met someone at a concert and saw them again at a group they were facilitating at my old workplace. we got coffee the other day and it was okay but, while they are nice, they recently came from burning a million bridges in another city and the only conversation they seemed most comfortable having was about having moved here for Healing and Creating Community and sociopseudotherapeutic talk. if that makes sense. very pnw. but basically it seems they are increasingly involved in my community and they just texted me saying they enjoy my company want to see me again etc etc. (friendshipwise i believe)

YAAY

nice two years idiot is my fill in the blank fic for Joker between that opening cutscene and then the Rest of me2 .. just my space to play with the ideas I have for Joker + his friendships with James and the Cortez’ + allowing me to write Steve/Robert and have it be In the main body of the story .. + just how he got pulled into Cerberus

Excerpt :

“Jeff?”

He jumped in his own skin, eyes peeling open and arms trying to push himself up into a more respectable pose, trying to steer clear of setting an alarm off or irritating one of many healing wounds.

He knew that voice. Knew it well. Even when the light of the hall blurred the edges of the figure in his doorway. Joker has had things slip from memory over the years- sands of time, clock marches onward, whatever- but some you can just never forget.

It was a struggle- a small one, to be fair. But a struggle all the same. The owner of the voice stepped quick to his bedside. Boots squeaked on polished floor, jacket undone and the smell of shuttle oil embedded in the fibres. A hand found home, resting on the junction of his shoulder, doing little to slow Joker’s attempt at freeing his legs from a thin, scratchy cocoon.

“Easy, man.” The voice called again, Joker pausing from the nightmare that was blanket tired around his ankles syndrome, and finally looked the visitor in the eyes. His mouth was still dry, and the attempt at a hello, or a good to see you or thanks for the visit died, blending into a rough rasp that sat in his throat. “No need to try to act tough, let me adjust your bed. Hey- Jeff. I don’t want you to do anything, yeah?”

Half frozen, body still trying to force itself to dangle its legs off the side of the bed and brain almost willing to slip back under the covers and rest. When he did try to go back to fighting with the devil called blanket, and felt the hand find its way back against his shoulder again, he had to concede.

Joker was stubborn, this was a fact of being, but he was lazy too. Two opposing forces, at a constant war. And as he shifted to lay back, hearing the whirl of moving parts and feeling his world shift bit by bit, Joker was willing to bow his head to laziness. Hands holded neat on his lap, might as well echoing in his head.