Why do you supposed Djura and Eileen remember/know about the Dream? Since Gehrman tells you you'll forget all memories once you reawaken? Also, what's your theory regarding the statue/grave behind the Rune altar in the workshop?
Both Djura and Eileen explicitly say that they remember the Dream. So it’s not really speculation on my part ;)
“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve taken blood. Enough to save an old woman.”
“No more dreams for me. This is my last chance.”
“Yes, very good. I no longer dream, but I was once a hunter, too.”
“I should think you still have dreams? Well, next time you dream, give some thought to the hunt, and its purpose.”
About what Gehrman says… what does he know? I always assumed that he hopes that’s what happens to people when they wake up but he has no real way to know if it’s true or not. Perhaps the Hunter will remember the Hunt but not the secrets they discovered about the Great Ones, the nightmare etc. Perhaps we forget only about the most traumatic experiences, those that would really change our perception of reality as it is and won’t allow us to live normal lives anymore. And since Gehrman himself considers the Dream to be ‘horrible’, it’s only logical for him to assume that we too want to forget about it as much as he does.
Here’s what the protagonist of H.P Lovecraft’s story “From Beyond” says after witnessing the activation of a machine that tears the veil of reality asunder revealing the monstrous beings that lurk unseen between dimensions, just like the Amygdalas:
(…) the doctor told me that I had undoubtedly been hypnotised by the vindictive and homicidal madman. I wish I could believe that doctor. It would help my shaky nerves if I could dismiss what I now have to think of the air and the sky about and above me. I never feel alone or comfortable, and a hideous sense of pursuit sometimes comes chillingly on me when I am weary.
Neither Djura or Eileen seem to know/remember anything about the influence of the Great Ones but they do remember the Dream. And now they’re just going on with their lives doing their business: Eileen hunting blood-drunk hunters and Djura protecting Old Yharnam.
As far as the statue behind the Memory Altar goes, I have a lovely theory based on NOTHING that makes a lot of sense to me and that I just like to accept it as canon for the sake of world building. And because it’s cool. Let me explain:
The “Gods” worshipped by the citizens of Yharnam are obviously the Great Ones but I sincerely doubt that the common people imagine them as the tentacled monsters that they really are. Yharnamites depict their gods as human-like because it’s easier to relate to and understand something that is similar to us than beings that are completely alien. The very idea that ‘man was created in the image of God’ is crucial in most cultures.
The high-ranking members of the Healing Church know the truth, of course, and that is why we can find statues depicting Amygdalas, Celestial Children and even Moon Presence only in places that are kept a secret from the general public or are off-limits like Yahar’gul and Upper Cathedral Ward.
Beasts and messengers, on the other hand, are a common motif throughout Yharnam not unlike gargoyles, angels and dragons are a common sight in medieval cities’ architecture. Messengers may have become some sort of folkloristic legend just like faeries and goblins are to us in the real world since many Hunters visited the Dream and came back with faded memories of their little helpers ;)
So, let’s try to identify some of the gods by looking at their statues:
The one on the left is located in the Tomb of Oedon and the wise-looking guy there seem to be wearing a shroud. Obviously, I do think this fine gentleman to be none other than Oedon as Yharnamites imagine him. Perhaps he was not even seen as a God but as a prophet or a martyr of some sort just like Logarius is. Or perhaps he was one of those Gods that ‘die’ as part of their myth and become the rulers of the underworld upon some other deity kills them, like Osiris.
The statue on the right is the one located on top of the altar in the grand cathedral and I believe her to be Ebrietas! Not only the statue is winged, but it also seems to have long braided hair that may be reminiscent of long tentacles. In addition, the action she’s performing is that of pouring what is presumably the Old Blood down on the altar. And let’s not forget that Ebrietas is Latin for ‘drunkness’ (”Ebrezza” in Italian)
It’s also located right below the door that leads us to the elevator that allows us to have audience with the REAL Ebrietas! :D Coincidence?! I THINK NOT! If you’re a Yharnamite visiting the Grand Cathedral… you are closer to your Goddes more than you think you are!
Long story short, what I want to say is that I believe the statue/gravestone in the Hunter’s Dream to be a representation of Moon Presence! Not only it was initially most likely used instead of lamps to warp back to the Hunter’s Dream…
…but its positioning in the Workshop is also very prominent and right in front of the altar where we pick up the very Umbilical cord that was used to beckon none other than Moon Presence.
“Every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate. The Third Umbilical Cord precipitated the encounter with the Pale Moon, which beckoned the hunters and conceived the Hunter’s Dream.”
(I am intentionally ignoring the pre-patch description for this analysis)
So here we go, that’s what I think about the Workshop statue. Now let’s partake in communion and pray in front of this lovely gijinka of our Moon Mom.
People who are rude about other people's dancing confuse me so much like ?? dancing is literally just an expression of joy, why do you need to shit on other people's fun to feel good about yourself?? Keep dancing like an ogre, keep doing you lovely 🌹
exactly!!!! i feel the exact same way. its pathetic its so pathetic. like i am just having fun !!! more fun than anyone who feels sad enough to criticise someone else to make themselves feel better!!! i have been told irl lovely comments abt my dancing by v nice and cool ppl so i think that outweighs that comment! also if a gal can dance like an ogre….she be a gal worth takin home!! i love skanking hard and being gross and loving the tunes. i have such a passion for techno and bassline and house music so if i look like shit whilst enjoying it and having the time of my life, i couldnt give two fucks!!! :-))) i will dance like an ogre forever dnt u worry!! i encourage u all 2 do the same !!!! keep dancing like shrek. its the way x
also i LOVE your organizational basket. there is so much fucking shit in my fridge it makes me want to peel my skin off but i may have to yoink this from you. right now i use a lazy susan for my condiments but its never enough. nothing is ever enough. im drowning in Fridge Stuff when all i want is to be able to subsist off whatever i suck out of a stick and impossibly rich baked goods
oh my god my life would be SO MUCH MORE MISERABLE without a.) you obviously and b.) Fridge Binz (i’m not typing like an asshole, that’s actually the brand name and they’re all made of the same material so you can use them in your pantry too and they have a million different kinds/shapes) and every single time I’m at a Marshalls/Homegoods/T.J. Maxx/equivalent discount store I buy whatever ones they have- they’re usually so goddamned overpriced everywhere else but last time I bought 4 of them for like $16? $18? and the thrill of it all was almost… perverse
I want everything I own stored neatly and symmetrically in clear acrylic bins, stacked so perfectly and accessibly in their allotted spaces that it would make Martha herself weep
when depression first made a home of me in elementary school, i had a friend who took my hands and held me tightly as she said, “hang in there. better days are coming.”
she was right. i have had days, weeks even, where there’s a spring to my steps, where i am confident and lighthearted and clearheaded. i have had days where i am simply happy, and i think, i am so glad to have lived to see such days.
i think of my friend, and the way her small hands gripped mine, when depression starts gardening in my mind again. everything dies. all my thoughts turn to suffocating black smoke and i can only cry to try to stop the burning in my throat. better days are coming, i remind myself, but i don’t believe it. i can’t see it. living is a marathon, and i am exhausted. there are often days where my dog is the only thing that keeps me going, and in my darker moments, i don’t know if i’m grateful for that or not.
but. better days are coming. i say it over and over and over until i could maybe believe it, because it is the only kindness to be found in this awful mindset. and i will take whatever light i can find, however little there may be.
Stiles Stilinski x fem! Reader
A/N: This is my first ever imagine/x reader so sorry if it’s crap. Feedback is encouraged please!! ALSO ITS REALLY SHORT SORRY
I wasn’t new to Beacon Hills. Not at all. I have lived here my whole uneventful life - well, uneventful up until this point in time. Ive always been an outgoing girl. Always talking and playing. Grade 2 is when it started. Playing in the sandbox with Lydia, when Danny decided to come and pour a bucket of water on me. If that wasn’t bad enough, his best friend Jackson just had to point it out to everyone. Ever since then have been the joke. Always laughs around me, and not the good ones either.
“y/n!” my best friend Em called, waving her hand motioning towards her seat on the bleachers. I strode over to sit with her but tripped on the wires for the lights. And it didn’t go unnoticed, oh no. The entire field - coach, our team, the other team and the bleachers giggled. I got up and walked to Em, ignoring the eyes i could feel on me from every direction.
“l/n!” coach yelled from the field, as I glanced in the direction of the voice “Stop distracting my players!” he yelled smugly. More snickers. The game went on, and we won. Em headed down to congratulate her friend Isaac, and as I followed, me being me, tripped on the bleachers. I tumbled to the bottom and rolled until I hit something. Or at least I thought it was something until ‘it’ fell on top of me with a loud
Embarrassedly, I looked up to see Stiles Stilinski, as in the one and only Stiles.
“YOU TWO” coach yelled, standing above us as people started to crowd, “Can neither of you two stay on your feet?!” he exclaimed laughing as the others joined him. As the crowd dispersed, Stiles got up and held his hand out to me.
“Thanks” I mumbled, wiping the dirt from my once clean pants.
Semester 2. The one with my LEAST favourite class - chemistry. And worst of all, I had no friends in the class, which basically means I’ll make a fool out of myself and everyone will laugh cause that’s how it ALWAYS happens. Okay maybe that’s the second worse- i have Mr Harris. Who loves to make a fool out of me whenever he can. I hurried down the hall, late for my first class. As i darted into the classroom I knocked over a beaker that seemingly had something important in it by Mr Harris’ expression.
“Lovely for you to join us, i’m assuming it’s Ms l/n, as you don’t strike me as a ‘Stiles’” he sighed pointing towards the only open desk. Before I could move to the desk, something hit me in the back, making me fall face first onto the floor, which was covered in glass and the chemical from the beaker.
“Shit, sorry” Stiles voice came from behind me, as he scratched the back of his head.
“Language Stilinski” Mr Harris droned. “You two, that table” he said gesturing towards the table he had earlier. As we sat down, we heard laughing but it stopped as the lesson started.
“Whoever you have chosen to sit next to, that’s your lab partner for the semester.” he turned towards Stiles and I as he added “Lucky me. Any mishaps happen from not following instructions,” he made eye contact with me and then Stiles, “You’ll get detention for the entire semester.”. The rest of the class didn’t go so well. As it turns out, the beaker that I knocked over was vital for our mixture and unfortunately, we didn’t get any because of my mistake. I tried to improvise, using a liquid in the same colour. Realistically, that’s not how chemistry works. The formula bubbled to the top. As it spilled over the edge, it landed on my notes, which caught fire due to the reaction. 2 minutes passed and nothing happened. Stiles and I shared a glance of relief but not even 1 second later the beaker exploded open, spraying purple liquid and glass shards all over the place. People’s clothes set fire and textbooks.
“Y/N, STILES” Mr Harris screamed, getting out of his chair. Stiles grabbed my hand quick and we darted out of the classroom Mr Harris not far behind. We were so close to the door when coach turned the corner stopping us in our tracks.
“Well well, If it isn’t the 2 troublemakers themselves” he snickered, as he looked behind us to see a purple faced Mr Harris, clearly tired from running, “Oh, and it looks like you two are in trouble, so I’ll just leave you here.” he laughed and headed back to his classroom.
“Shit” Stiles and I said in unison, turning to an EXTREMELY angry Mr Harris. As the bell rang, he pushed us down the hall as students left for the end of the day. He shoved us in a science supply closet that was extremely messy.
“Don’t even THINK about leaving until it’s spotless” he said stomping off to his classroom. I turned to Stiles and started to laugh. He started too.
“That was awesome” he stated.
“Thanks” I laughed, “Im kind of a disaster if you haven’t already found out” I sighed. Suddenly, he grabbed my neck lightly placing his thumbs on my cheeks.
“You have some disaster on your face m'lady” he said with a smirk, as he wiped my cheek with his thumb. Then, he came closer, as did I and our lips connected. It was blissful and sweet, and seemed like it went on forever.
“Ahem…” Mr Harris cleared his throat. “I said CLEAN not KISS, now work or you’ll get detention every day after school AND lunch” he said slamming the door. We looked at each other and sniggered.
“He hates us” he smiled.
“I know” I grinned cheekily.
Hey Evan. I've been working on my sv series for some time, almost a year now, And recently Ive rewritten things many times not feeling too satisfied with the results. I genuinely want to keep with this because its fun but im having trouble because i dont feel its good enough to bring out. Do you have any advice to lend?
Write until you’re ALMOST satisfied.
Something that really helped me with season two was that, I had a lot of wild ideas for how it would end but had no concrete one for how we’d get there.
Just look at what you’ve written, see how they can relate, and make your characters do things THEY WOULD DO to get there. After a certain amount of time and effort it starts to feel much more satisfying and “right”, you know?
I have no doubt you’ve already put weeks of work into this - months, even. But there’s no such thing as satisfaction in all this. You do the best you can, for as long as you can (but don’t write for more than half an hour a day!) and you’ll eventually have something you’d be proud to show. That’s how it felt for me, anyways.