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felidacy · 23 days

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Rambles and small ideas for a Batfamily Bloodborne AU

(It is not that cohesive I am sorry and I was forced to make some lore changes. Especially with how it begins. Don't beat me up about it.)

Gotham gets enveloped by a dark shroud that covers the whole city and makes it near imperishable, let alone letting people pass through. The city is forever shrouded in a dark loom with merely a everlasting full moon shining upon them. With no sun and the isolation, it soon takes a tool on the people. They grow sickly and depressed, if not that they become near deranged and highly irritable. Crime rates in the already vicious city steadily increase.

There is a sudden shift then - for the worse. A blood moon occurs and people begin to change. Their bodies twist, grow and even rot away. Meanwhile their humanity seems to decrease. A few attempt to research the phenomenon and hold them captive in facilities like Arkham Asylum or Blackgate Prison, however those are halted when the victims fully cease being humans and transform into eldritch monsters that lash out when the old blood gets overused by the Healing Church. A mass outbreak occurs and the monsters roam the city from then on.

Tim Drake is still in the position of the CEO Wayne Enterprise after the mysterious disappearance of the Gotham Prince (Bruce Wayne) and openly funding doctors and scholars in his tower to research their Gotham phenomenon and the monsters. He takes over the Role of Provost Willem and does not shy away from finding out the truth by any means necessary. He isolates himself because of his hunger for knowledge and shuts people out.

Researchers of his discover the tombs/Labyrinth and the usage of the old blood when coming across Ebrietas, some desperately trying to change his opinion and use blood healing to attain a new beginning. Tim is forced into a position where he needs to give up on his constant desire of evolution and progress, which goes against his nature, for the sake of the people and instead how far he can go sacrificing himself in order to attain knowledge that makes him look beyond the "now". His good-hearted start for the peace of humans turns into a obsession to achieve something which is beyond the capability of a mere human.

Damian has been put in a dire position, a child that hears and dreams of the voices of those beyond that nobody else can comprehend. With his artistic skills he puts down the words after transcribing them, he holds the Role of Runesmith Caryll. He desperately attempts to hold on to sanity as he hides himself away from all prying eyes despite the praise of those around him. He only ever hears the words of the Great Ones now.

Two people Tim trusted most "betrayed" him, Tam and Cass that take on the Role of Laurence as his trusted students that end up leaving him. Cass knew that Stephanie must secretly be alive and after having grown immensely close to her not-sister-not-lover, she could not live with herself if she didn't rescue one she loved. She had lost too many already and followed Tam, along with others. Tam had noble intentions much like Cass, although Tam held more resentment for Tim. Her father was affected by a terrible illness that was since then called the Ashen Blood and even after dozens of years where he was loyal to the Wayne family he did not wish to use the old blood to heal him. He actively even discouraged her. Tam gave her goodbyes one day to never see Tim again and began the Healing Church. To her disappointment Dr. Leslie Thompkins was not one of those that followed after them and when the blood failed to heal her father, instead actively killing him, it were Tim and Leslie that got blamed. Since then Tam began desiring evolving into something greater through the use of the blood in order to bring him back. While Cass worked as a blood minister (later on white Church hunter), Tam focused later on at the work of seeking contact with the Great Ones and became the leading figure of the Choir.

Leslie Thompkins suffers a cruel fate. Her loyalty to save the people and towards Tim cost her greatly and when Tim gets the epiphany that more eyes are needed to understand the Great Ones and evolve, she is one of those that get affected and turn into one of the many hundred eyed monsters roaming the tower and trapping Tim there.

The Healing Church grows in power as their influence in Gotham rises because of their special infected blood that heals those in dire need should they come to them. Gotham citizen began to practically worship the Healing Church when gods they previously believed them did not act and show mercy, others turned away out of fear and that soon enough began to rule the city. The Healing Church becomes a belief, a bloody beacon of hope in their endless night...a cult.

When the sickness of the Ashen Blood spreads the people falsely believe in The Healing Church and that they will save them. Instead the bridges connecting the lands to each other get torn down when they least expect it and watch on as the other half gets overrun by beasts and the ravaging sickness alike. To make sure nobody ever passes through the remains get bordered up. Tim remains on the other half in his Tower overlooking the raging City with a faraway gaze.

They mainly reside in the abandoned underground of Gotham and at the edge of the Bowery, planted right at the opposite site of the Wayne Tower, and gets called the Labyrinth as the layout changed under the influence of the shroud. In time the Healing Church began to change and it split into various branches, the Choir, the school of Mensis and the Hunters of the Workshop that evolve into the Church Hunters.

Jason and Dick had been getting Damian out of old Gotham when the great fire happened and they were unable to return to their left behind sibling. They desired to hid Damian from the Healing Church because of his connection to the Great Ones and there was no better hiding spot than directly under their nose. As such they've become hunters for the Church.

One faithful day Barbara after a long search discovers Damian when he is having one of his seizures, when he dreams of the Great Ones, and she desires to help him. She has been kept in the dark as she had been stuck in the Clocktower until the Healing Church came to free her, which causes her to make unwise decisions by mistakingly trusting Tam and Cass. Unknowing of what occurred with the lack of still functioning technology she was part of the School of Mensis. However upon touching the Great Ones overwhelm her mind and her sanity crumbles. Barbara holds the Role of Micolash. After she becomes aware of herself again she causes the School of Mensis to break away from the Church and just like Tim to find and use an unbiblical cord of the Great Ones.

Stephanie was one of the few that broke through the shroud even when nobody knows why she was permitted through. Trusting her idol and not-lover her ignorance of the state of matter makes her join Barbara. The use of the Cord brings blocked memories back to Stephanie as she recalls that she faked her death because of her pregnancy, just shortly before the shroud fell over Gotham. In fact she does not recall what she had done those months outside of Gotham, neither were the supposed baby was. That is when the Great Ones enlighten her when she connects to Mergo. That child was never born as she went through horrible complications early on and lost it, although there was no body. The child was not of human descent, but of a Great One. Broken apart by this knowledge the Cord pulls Stephanie, Barbara and others of the School into a nightmare state where they remain forever trapped while their physical bodies die. She is the Queen of Yharnam.

Alfred was thought to have died that night when the Great fire happened as he had been away from the Wayne Tower, yet neither with Damian in the Manor. However, as it turns out Alfred had gone to seek out Tam and Cass in hopes to change their minds. When he thought all his wards dead when the land was burning there was no other way than to stay with his last remaining: Cass. And as someone who only ever knew how to work through grief by helping others, he had become the leader of the old Hunters Workshop. He was Gehrmann. Still caught in his own grief the purpose was ripped from him again and he was left alone, a mistake. Like many he called upon the Great Ones and as such started the dream, the start of it all with a promise that needed to be fulfilled.

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itssotragic · 2 months

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12. “Did something happen to you that I don’t know about?” with maybe Rhea/Damian/Dom 🤔

Rated: T Tags: References to past sexual assault, therapy, nightmares.

Prompt List

Quiet nights at home were few and hard to come by. There was always something that needed to be done—unpacking, packing, getting ready for the next show, traveling, training, press. Rarely did the grind stutter to a stop long enough to be still and breathe. But somehow, they'd managed to find one of those precious nights among the chaos—a respite, a chance to simply be and be together. Damian cooked, they ate, then JD and Finn disappeared into the back bedroom with a few soft murmurs exchanged in the leaving. Both had looked so exhausted that Damian had no reason to doubt they really were turning in early.

And so five became three.

They shifted to the living room, where Dom curled up against Damian's side, head resting in his lap as if he belonged there—which, he mused, maybe he did—and Damian held him close as they put on a movie Rhea had rescued from a discount bin somewhere last week. It didn't take long before Dom was half-hidden behind a blanket, peering over the fringe and clutching onto Damian's hand with every jump and pop of noise. Damian was only half paying attention, idly carding his free hand through Dom's hair, his thoughts and gaze both drifting to where Rhea had plopped down on the floor in front of the sofa, meticulously hammering studs and rivets into a trim expanse of black leather. He had no idea what event it was for—he didn't even know if she knew—but he liked watching her work. Once in a while, her tongue would poke out from between her lips, poised at the corner of her mouth, her brow furrowed in concentration as she lined up sharp bits of metal, measured with her fingertips, counted, then swept the whole mess onto the floor so she could start hammering again.

It was hard for him to imagine a more perfect night than this—to have not just one person who fit so well into every crevice of his life, but all of them. The warmth of Dom pressed against him, Rhea always lingering just within arm's reach, Finn and JD safely tucked away in the other room. It was a kind of contentment he couldn't even imagine until he'd met them. One by one, they'd slotted into place, and a sense of peace had wrapped around him like a heavy blanket.

He had half a thought lingering somewhere in the corner of his mind—something he'd been about to say, a notion that hadn't quite formed into words yet—but it was lost in the rustle of Rhea suddenly rising to her feet. She cracked her neck and stretched her arms above her head with a soft groan and a little pop of something somewhere at the base of her spine. Dom reached out and batted at her hip, and she stepped out of the way of the television with a laugh, pivoting on her toes, practically dancing between the piles of tools and fabric and supplies.

"You headed to the kitchen by any chance?" Damian asked, watching as she flicked the hem of her shorts back into place around her thigh.

"I think I need glue," she answered.

"You wanna grab me another drink on your way back?"

"Please," she teased and wiggled her fingers at him as she reached for his empty glass.

He rolled his eyes. "And thank you," he offered, handing it over with a small, fond smirk. Their hands brushed, his touch lingered, thumb grazing over her knuckles before he let go of the glass and let her slip away toward the other side of the space.

Damian's gaze followed her, tracking every movement through the room, lingering just long enough to see her slip around the corner of the island counter. Then he turned back to Dom, fingers sliding into his hair again, scratching gently at his scalp beneath a mop of dark waves. Dom hummed softly, a barely audible noise, tilting his head into Damian's palm and shifting ever closer against his side. His focus slipped, settled, sank—grasping onto nothing in particular, at least not long enough to matter—shifting from Dom to Rhea and back again with ease. Rhea's footsteps pattered softly against the tile, punctuated by the glide of drawers as she rummaged around. But even that faded into the background after a moment or two—a rhythmic pulse like a metronome, a steady beat for him to track her by.

Time slowed to a crawl. The movie played on without him; he didn't care. His eyes slipped closed, lashes heavy, comfort guiding the way towards a drowsy sort of almost-rest. Then Rhea's fingers brushed against his shoulder, cold and damp with condensation off his glass, and he hummed a soft sound of acknowledgment as she passed. He heard her nails scratch softly over Dom's blanket, skipping down his side and hip before he felt the couch cushion shift as she settled down and rest her back against it again. A gentle silence settled over them like a fog, warm and comforting, thick enough to sink into and soft enough to mold around his body.

He drifted, lulled by the feeling of Dom's fingertips brushing slowly up and down the side of his arm, tracing shapes that felt nonsensical at first until one curved and glided just so, and his attention honed back in on his own body. Slowly, the shapes Dom was drawing began to make sense. The swoop and arc of his fingertips traced tangled serpents and caressed the side of Medusa's face, almost—maybe entirely—unconsciously. His gaze was focused on the television, one arm tucked up against his chest, while the other hand simply trailed the lines as if he had them memorized. Damian's fingers stroked down the side of his neck, thumb tracing over his collarbone and shoulder before slipping back into his hair again, and shifted his arm a bit closer, easier to reach.

"Have you seen Adam's show?" Dom murmured, turning just slightly to look over his shoulder at Damian, his big, dark eyes wide and gentle and curious.

He couldn't help but laugh. Of course, to Dom, it was Adam's show, even though he was only in—what?—three episodes. But he nodded, twisting one long strand of hair around his finger. In his gut, he knew what question was probably coming next, but he still offered a soft smile and said, "Yeah, why?"

Dom shrugged. "Just wondering if that's why you got her—" His fingers swooped across Medusa's face again, then down towards Damian's wrist. "Because of the story, I mean."

It was innocuous enough that Damian probably could have skirted around the subject if he wanted to. But it felt—maybe not pointless, but unnecessary. There were parts of himself he'd always kept hidden away—for good reason—and Dom's innocent question brought one of those shadowy things stumbling out of the dark to sit in the center of his chest. And, somehow, it didn't feel as heavy as it once had. Maybe time did heal all wounds or some trite, cliche shit like that; or maybe the salve they'd been applying to it over the last months—years, in some cases—had finally started to heal something. Either way, it didn't feel as deep as it had three years ago when he'd sat down in a tattoo parlor, across from a woman with the prettiest rose-colored hair he'd ever seen, and spilled the entire story over the course of a six-hour session.

He swallowed around the knot that tried to form in the back of his throat, the phantom tingle of needle pricks flaring up along his arm, and nodded again, his smile soft and genuine even if there was a heaviness still sitting just below the surface. But Dom had already seen the flicker in his expression, the slight deepening of the lines around his eyes, the way his fingertips stuttered then stilled where they rest on the arc of Dom's shoulder.

"I'm not supposed to ask that, am I?" he said—timid, a little hesitant, a trace of worry in his voice that he had upset Damian.

But he just shook his head and gathered Dom a little closer, watching Rhea out of the corner of his eye as she set her tools down and shifted around to face them both. "No, no, it's alright, hermano. You can ask. It was a really long time ago, and I'm mostly okay now."

"Mostly?" Dom echoed, looking up at him again, searching his face, trying to find an answer in his expression.

There was no reason to try to hide anything—not with them. They didn't need the pretty version of things—the glossed-over, watered-down, sanitized truth. It was messy and ugly and uncomfortable, but they were safe, and that was the only thing that mattered. Still, he felt that hard throb in the center of his chest, the last dying ember of a fear he'd spent years trying to extinguish and couldn't quite snuff out completely. He'd learned to live with it, to maneuver around it, and it remained largely inconspicuous if still softly smoldering somewhere in the distance. But here, now, he felt like he could pick that ember up in his bare hands and not get burned by it. It was as small a spark as it had ever been.

Rhea leaned her elbow against the back of the sofa, resting her chin on her hand, looking at Damian with a softness that made his heart ache, but he couldn't quite bring himself to meet her gaze just yet. Instead, he shifted a little and tugged Dom upright, coaxing him into his lap so Rhea had space to move up onto the couch next to them. He slipped into the space between Damian's thigh and the arm of the sofa, legs draped over and between his, shoulder tucked just under his arm, blanket folded around their limbs.

He felt Rhea's lips fall against his cheek as she rose and took her place on the other side, her legs tucked beneath her as she reached for him and tangled their fingers together. Part of him was glad it was just the three of them, then. It wasn't that he didn't want Finn and JD to know, just that it seemed easier to deal with when there weren't so many people staring at him. The wound had healed, sure, but it had scarred, and some of those scars were thicker, deeper than others. It was hard to know where to start sometimes. He cleared his throat, blinked a few times, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Truth is," he started, gaze gliding back to the television and the credits rolling there. "I wasn't fully aware of what was happening at the time. There were just a bunch of whispered conversations I don't think I was ever meant to hear, and then, all of a sudden, I was being shipped back to New York. I didn't understand why I had to leave—just that everyone was upset all the time, and all I knew was that I was at the center of it. I thought I was being punished for something, but I didn't know what, and I didn't know how to process everything that was going on either—so I just didn't."

Silence hung heavy for a few seconds, but Damian needed that pause to ground himself—to settle into the warmth that surrounded them, the feeling of Rhea's thumb brushing over his knuckles, and Dom's hand curled softly in the front of his shirt.

"I didn't start dealing with any of it until a lot later," he continued, still staring at some vague spot in the middle distance. "I had a coach who basically told me to get my shit together, then shoved me in the direction of a therapist. I hated it. I thought it was stupid and pointless—that there was nothing I could benefit from knowing—that it was gonna be a massive waste of time. Then, little by little, it started to help—even if, eventually, it opened up a can of worms I didn't realize was actually full of snakes. Once I started digging, I started to remember, and it hit me like a fucking truck. I had nightmares for weeks. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I could barely make it to practice. I was a wreck. And, thankfully, a lot of people gave me a lot of grace while it was happening. They didn't know—no one did—they just knew I was trying to get my head on straight and that, hopefully, I was going to come out the other side of it better."

His throat was dry, and he could feel his voice faltering, but he forced himself to keep going. It was cathartic, in a way, like taking a hot knife to an infected wound and prying it open so the poison could drain out.

"There were things that had grown around that initial memory, though—rooted into it, branched off of it—things that needed to be handled separate from everything else. But by the time I moved to Vegas, I'd gotten a hold of most of that, too. The real bone-deep pain wasn't there anymore. Every once in a while, something still flares up, and I have to sit with it for a bit, but..." he shrugged, "but at least I can sit with it now. I can look at it and acknowledge that it's there, and it hurts, and that's okay. Most of the time, it's just phantom pain, anyway; something that aches because it remembers, not because it's still bleeding."

Rhea's palm slid against his cheek, cupping his jaw as she guided his face towards hers, and he felt the slightest sting in the corners of his eyes. That was residual, too—a reflex left over from all the times he'd secluded himself in some small, dark place, hoping he might feel safe enough to cry through the pain. He blinked it away and leaned into her touch, resting his forehead against hers for a moment. He could feel her eyelashes flutter against his, her fingernails gliding softly through his beard, holding him there as he breathed deep and steadied himself. When he pulled back, he found Dom's dark eyes still watching him, quiet and curious and unassuming—a dozen different questions lingering in his gaze. Damian carded his fingers through his hair, tucking loose strands away from his face, tracing the line of his jaw with his thumb. Dom's lips twitched into a soft smile, and he pressed his cheek into Damian's palm.

"Is that why you've always been so good with me and my bad dreams?" he asked.

He laughed and nodded, his smile finally softening into something more natural. "I'm sure it has something to do with it, yeah. But you're easy to take care of."

His smile faded for a moment as he shifted his hand to curl around Dom's shoulder, holding him snug against his chest. If he'd noticed the flicker of emotion on Damian's face that time, he didn't let on; he just tucked himself in closer, drawing his knees up, and nuzzled into the solid expanse of Damian's chest. Sometimes he wondered how alike the two of them were and how much Dom kept quietly closed off for the sake of everyone else around him—to continue being the bright little ball of sunshine they all knew. But it wasn't the right time to start digging into that. He could only hope that offering this small fragment of himself would be enough that they might also feel safe in unburdening their darkness with him—more than they already had. He pressed a kiss to the top of Dom's head and shifted his gaze back to Rhea, catching the soft, sidelong glance she cast in his direction.

"I'm proud of you," she said, her voice low and warm, gentle as she drew her fingers through his hair and grazed her thumb along his temple. "You know that, right?"

Damian hummed, the sound rumbling in the back of his throat, and nodded, turning his face to press a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "I do," he murmured, reaching for her other hand again. "But it's still nice to hear sometimes."

#damian priest #dominik mysterio #rhea ripley #the judgment day #poly judgment day #wrestling #tragically written #micro fic #no beta we die like men #you should know #i had leonard cohen on #the entire time i was writing this

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polter-heist · 1 year

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Dp x Dc prompt 6

Danny, Mary, and Billy were triplets. After the death of their parents and Mary's kidnapping, Danny was put up for adoption meanwhile Billy was sent to live with Ebenezer. Danny was adopted by the Fenton family.

Now years later, a reunited Mary and Billy set out to find their lost triplet.

#''Damian and Danny as twins'' I RAISE YOU ALL DANNY MARY AND BILLY AS TRIPLETS!!!#but yeah a prompt like this can go in so many different directions #like you could have Danny be a justice league member and watching both of them like ''tf they doing over there''#or you can have them track him down to Amity Park but Danny thinking the jl is coming after him bc of anti-eco acts and just deciding #''HELL NO.''#and surprise surprise!! every time someone with the jl tries to enter amity they black out and decidedly NOT in amity #or something else!#there are plenty of possibilities because i don't think I've ever seen a Billy Mary and Danny triplet story #tragic honestly #oe yeah for the second possible story that i came up with #you could have it be Ghost King Danny and he could have an order of ''No Justice League Members In Amity''#then again Fright Night might be the only one to even consider following it but if you have him promise they can pull some shenanigans #then there might be some fun to have #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #danny fenton #billy batson #mary batson #shazam #polter prompts

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eleanore-delphinium · 1 year

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Dialogues from Damirae Fics I May or May Not Write. I .

Damian: It's you.

Raven: Yes, it is.

Damian: But it can't be. I looked for you everywhere. You don't exist.

Raven: You didn't exist to me too. I searched for you for so long. I didn't want to take you from someone that you already belonged to.

Damian: ...

Raven: Then, I found you, the same as me-- someone who longed for me just as much as I longed for you.

Damian: You're real.

Raven: Yes.

Damian: You haunted my dreams for so long...

Raven: As did you--

Damian and Raven: I longed to meet you.

Raven: For so long... you haunted my dreams.

~~~~~

This is the turning point planned in this fic. The conversation is supposed to also show how the fic is written. I actually do have a title for this fic, it's been in my head since 2020.

And yes, I offer crumbs to keep the fandom alive.

I plan to do this more or less, writing dialogues because, let's be honest, this is probably the closest I get to posting new stuff.

Should I write the scene properly, I have it rather vividly in my head. Anyways this is the gist. Ta-ta.

#Damirae #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #raven roth #damian x raven #dialogue fanfiction #eleanore-delphinium #wip #angst #longing #sad pov and tragic #dialogue part 1 the first crumb #Teen Titans #justice league dark: apokolips war #jldaw #DC Universe #dcamu

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wesavegotham · 9 months

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There are so many fanfictions about Jason meeting a younger Damian in the league of assassins and taking him to Gotham, but where are the stories about Bruce coming across a younger Damian when Bruce is trying to take down Ra's for the nth time and ending up taking the boy to Gotham for one reason or another. But neither of them knows they are related.

#Could be hilarious or tragic #Depending on the direction #Bonus points if the writer goes with the Son of the Demon events and Bruce thinks Talia miscarried #damian wayne #Bruce Wayne

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michaeljoncarter · 7 months

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alright, let's start the betting pool. do we think king can shock us all and do something original or do we think the comic about jon & damian as babysitters is going to follow the formula of every other jon & damian comic and have damian be a weirdly aggressive ooc dickhead who has to be taught by jon, who is perfect and good at everything, how to interact with kids? vote now on your phones

#i lied last time but THIS is actually the last one ok. i promise. for real this time #i hate the way he's characterized in jon's presence soo much #the weird pushing of dick as 'his' bat-character has been cursed in all aspects #save for how it's kept him tf away from damian lol #TRAGIC to see them being forced together again

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fareehaandspaniards · 3 months

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Damian's little brother Jiri

Jiri appeared in my head completely by accident, when I was trying to analyze why Damian is so loyal to Micolash. I had a variant of the idea - that Damian and Micolash share a common thoughts, ideas, philosophy, but to me it would not be enough, because then they are connected purely by business connection, and according to my headcanons - these two are intertwined by secrets, long-lasting friendship, love and faith in Kos. But how did Damian decide for himself that he would follow Micolash anywhere all his life, give him his best years of life and sacrifice everything just for him?

According to my headcanons Damian was a librarian in Byrgenwerth. He graduated from college, but he couldn't become a doctor, and he didn't want to go back to his home estate. When he met young student Micolash, he saved him from the rector's wrath out of the goodness of his heart (a little accident because of Micolash's curiosity). And so their friendship began. But there was something about the black-haired slightly unstable and very intelligent young man that tugged at Damian's heartstrings.

Thus came Jiri, Damian's late younger brother, whose image he holds deep in his heart and loves, even twenty and fourty years on from his death. He was supposed to be just a boy mentioned a few times in the fanfic, but the more I built up the image of Jiri and the circumstances of his death, the more attached I became to him. In the end, I decided to make a separate post for him. I doubt it will resonate strongly with those who subscribe to me - after all, Jiri is just my OC, albeit one that directly influenced who Damian became in the end.

And yet, the boy is too important not to write a post about him, at least for myself. Because when I write fanfic, I forget little details about him and it would be nice to have a peek somewhere. Well since there is also drawing, why not post xd

Jiri is a very ambiguous child. At first I wanted him to be 4, but after working with his image I came to the conclusion that 4 is too young for him to be the way I see him. So he is 6 (almost 7) at the time of his death. This is very important, because at 6 years old he already has his own views on life, his own opinions, the "whys and wherefores" period is over and now the attempts to interact with the world around him begin - in Jiri's case it is a rebellion against the world around him. Damian was 7 at the time of his death.

Jiri contracted consumption when he was very small, almost a newborn. Medicine in Yharnam at that time was quite terrible - the discovery of the properties of blood had not yet happened, and people were treated with herbs, a kind word and prayers to the old gods (And I believe they were. I'm pretty sure the Grand Cathedral, the Cathedral Ward -are all just remodeled cathedrals of the old Yharnam faith. It's just that Laurence and Willem were perfectly able to sweep away the former faith thanks to blood magic and the furor it caused). The doctors diagnosed that Jiri was going to die, sooner or later. Euthanasia was suggested. But the parents refused. I see Damian's mother as a cold and pious woman, living by rules and obligations, and his father as a strict but gruff man. But whatever they were, they were humans. And they did not want their youngest son to die, and at that time they still believed that he could survive.

The years passed, and Jiri grew up. He was very weak, sometimes the disease receded and sometimes it worsened. While he was very young, he was even mobile - he played at age 4 with the neighborhood children and Damian, listened to his mother's stories. He was an imaginative boy - in games he liked to build and break most of all, finding the most inventive ways to destroy. And despite the fact that Damian was a year older than him, Damian was an absolute crybaby as a child. He was very afraid of people, afraid of contact, and so all conversations with other children were taken over by Jiri, who was very responsible about meeting new people. He always introduced Damian first and then himself, and Damian would hide behind him or his mother.

Jiri always wore dark clothes. And slept on dark linens. So the stains from his bloody cough were less noticeable, and it saved his parents money (there was really a lack of money) for laundry and new underwear (by the way, white underwear and clothing is a very expensive thing, which historical fantasy authors often forget :/// It's a symbol of wealth, because white gets dirty very easily. And if you wear white clothes, you can afford to replace them. And when I see a "poor" character wearing white shirts, I just…. …. ……………….)

Jiri was a very perky boy, open, friendly. And his parents had mixed feelings about him. On the one hand - they were happy to have him. But they knew he wouldn't live long. And both were very afraid of the pain of losing him, to which they had condemned themselves. Damian and Jiri also had many older brothers and sisters. Besides the two of them, there were six other children in the family, two of whom died before Jiri.

When Jiri's disease began to worsen around the age of 5, his mom started telling him stories about angels. That one day he would fall asleep and be visited by angels. They would play with him for ages and he would be fine. She told him that only the best people go to heaven, so he should behave well. But she couldn't explain to her son why his older brother Damian (whom he called "Dami") wouldn't follow him. Jiri began to be afraid of angels. Afraid of the frescoes in the cathedrals. He began to wonder what death was. And through the efforts of his mother, who merely wanted to ease his waning life, he began to think that death was a good thing. Jiri even became cruel. He didn't hurt any other child, but he was cold in heart when someone died… And sometimes he tried to kill himself. He watched insects, animals die. He believed what his mom said and convinced himself that everyone would be okay in heaven. This scared Damian and his older brothers and sisters a little (a little, yeah).

Jiri had a rabbit. He was given it when his illness worsened, because Jiri loved rabbits very much and in all the games with other children he was always a bunny. Jiri believed that his rabbit was a miracle. The best there is. But his father often joked that rabbits were better served for dinner. He wasn't a bad man or heartless, he was just of a simpler disposition, to him a rabbit was food, and dogs or cats were pets. Jiri took great offense. And one day his rabbit, which had accidentally escaped from the house, was mauled by the yard dogs. And Jiri saw it. Another little trauma on his heart.

Jiri saw death. Jiri knew he was going to die. Jiri feared it to the point of tears. But in all this his sunshine and light was always little Damian. Damian was never rude as a child, on the contrary - he was very shy and very fond of reading. So he often told Jiri stories from books. After all, Jiri had never been taught to read - no one saw the point in it. The small circles under Jiri's eyes, his thinness, curls and intelligent eyes, his unusual thinking, though sometimes cruel - all this imprinted in Damian's heart an image that would later burn brightly when he saw Micolash.

Damian loved Jiri with all his heart. All his life he remembered how as a little boy he could not help him or realize that Jiri was dying lying in his bed. Damian played toys for him and told him stories. And then, as an adult, he dreamed of turning back the clock and saving him, even though he knew that Jiri would have died anyway.

They were bound together by true brotherly love. And Damian visits Jiri's grave even as an adult scholar at the Mensis School. He left his family, hiding from them in Byrgenwerth, and never wanted to see to his relatives, tho occasionally visiting them. They all died when the curse of the beast began, when the horrors started in Yharnam. But it is Jiri that Damian cannot forget and let go. And his little tombstone stands out very much among the others which are abandoned in the cemetery near Hemwick.

If Jiri had grown up, he probably would have joined the Powder kegs. I see the grown up version of him looking like the painter Karl Brullov,

I don't know why. He would be a very interesting person! Open-minded, bright, perhaps one of the inventors like Archibald… And of course, a heretic. With his mind - he wouldn't like the idea of contacting Great Ones, but still would try to do it himself.

But these are all idle thoughts, for if Jiri had stayed alive - Damian's life would have turned out very differently in my vision. He wouldn't have gotten a wound on his heart, wouldn't have tried to forget his family by hiding behind his work in Byrgenwerth, wouldn't have suffered so much and wouldn't have followed Micolash with SUCH a passion, seeing him not only as a brilliant scientist, but also as his angel and little brother.

My little rabbit king Jiri :'(

#my art #my OC Jiri #mensis scholar damian #I think I may use his hashtag for this??#anyway #not a longpost at all #My first Bloodborne OC! But it seems that I have another one - Ludwig's wife lmao but story there is much more funny albeit tragic #Jiri Q_Q #He made me cry at work because I got carried away in thoughts again #I want to draw adult Damian holding him #bloodborne OC #bloodborne #sort of damicolash stuff? maybe

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