whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!
this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!
warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her.
So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak.
You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work
you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then
nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place.
On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after
it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him.
but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening.
its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail.
Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn
its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench.
there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency.
when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-
all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river
Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay
“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.”
he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself.
but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything
its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found.
Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there.
Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames.
“We’re gonna find her, but not there.”
So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did.
He became a smuggler because of it.
Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way.
But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course.
The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him.
But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles
“You think she would have wanted this for you?”
the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence.
“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.”
All he can do is nod.
It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit.
It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live.
Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago.
its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo”
when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them.
Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands.
He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face.
Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity.
“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?”
Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be.
But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.
“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.”
Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again.
“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.”
He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples.
“One.”
The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun.
“Two”
Wait. No, they both do.
“Three.”
Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins.
“Four.”
Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet.
Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?”
Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless.
Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.
When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same.
She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head.
“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”
He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun.
“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?”
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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 :'(
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