I’m actually pretty in love with you, it turns out.

what if we lived in a haunted manor together in the 80s and fell in love and then moved away and opened a flower shop together and got married and then i sacrificed myself to a 500-year old ghost in a lake to keep you safe? haha just kidding. unless???

Non-spoiler thoughts on The Haunting of Bly Manor

Specifically, about its reception.

Critics are saying “it’s not as good as Hill House” because that’s the lazy, empty argument they always go to when criticizing a sequel or sister series like this is. It makes a snappy headline and it’s always easier to make surface-level comparisons instead of giving genuine, critical thought to a piece of media. 

It’s especially frustrating to see with The Haunting of Bly Manor because this series is very clearly a different kind of story than Hill House, with different priorities and themes and tone. It’s not Hill House, it’s not trying to be more Hill House, it has very little in common with Hill House, and it’s unfair to compare apples to oranges.

“It’s not as good as the first thing” is a bad faith criticism. It judges content based on how it compares to something else rather what it is on its own. If Bly Manor appeals less to your personal tastes, that’s fine. What’s unfair is judging it as less because it’s different. What’s unfair is disregarding its unique merits and implying its differences are inherently flaws. What’s unfair is expecting it to be something it isn’t trying to be.

Hill House was a horror story. Bly Manor is a gothic romance with horror elements. It’s not fair to criticize it for being less scary when invoking fear isn’t a priority for this story. Hill House’s ghosts were frightening and induced trauma because it was a story about trauma. Bly Manor’s ghosts are less scary and more tragic because it’s a story about tragedy.

Hill House is about grief and overcoming trauma. Bly Manor is a story about love and all the forms it takes - true love, tragic love, possessive love, star-crossed lovers, sibling love, love between parents and children. It’s a very different story, it’s a very good story, and it deserves to be judged on its own merits rather than being compared to another piece of media it isn’t meant to resemble in the first place.

being in your early twenties is like [grocery shopping alone] [having instant noodles for dinner] [remembering random details about that one friend you haven't spoken to in five years] [feeling overwhelming guilt for every purchase that isn't strictly "necessary"] [having midday naps] [finding out through facebook that the girl who was mean to you in high school has a husband and a baby] [falling a little in love with every stranger on public transport] [pretending you're not afraid of being alone] [wondering when you'll feel like a fully realized person] [listening to bands you liked in middle school] [blinking and it's suddenly december] [failing to imagine yourself ten years from now] [feeling like you're running out of time]

I recently finished the nanny and made these.

coloring psd credits: https://www.deviantart.com/txrrao/art/Psd008-By-Aloicon-854760383

reblog if ur tired and want to make out w/ a cute girl

I have to admit. I am not living la vida loca

horny, but for cuddles

a mood

life should really just be *wakes up refreshed* *drinks some coffee* *eats some oatmeal* *reads a book* *eats some stir fried vegetables* *reads a book* *eats a cookie* *reads a book* *drinks some soup* *reads a book* *goes to sleep content* *wakes up refreshed*

I needed this.

Thank you to all the people who posted this so I ended up seeing it. I really needed this right now. Thank you!

Yeah… Not gonna lie… I cried…

We need more people like this

Goddamn it stop making me feel human

The therapist I wanna be.

Text in the image:

“I’m a therapist and keep this poster in my waiting room, apparently it’s saved a few lives.”

I don’t like the phrase “a cry for help.” I just don’t like how it sounds. When somebody says to me, “I’m thinking about suicide. I have a plan: I just need a reason not to do it,” the last thing I see is helplessness.

I think your depression has been beating you up for years. It’s called you ugly, and stupid, and pathetic, and a failure, for so long that you’ve forgotten that it’s wrong. You don’t see any good in yourself, and you don’t have any hope.

But still here you are: you’ve come over to me, banged on my door and said, “HEY! Staying alive is REALLY HARD right now! Just give me something to fight with! I don’t care if it’s a stick! Give me a stick and I can stay alive!”

How is that helpless? I think that’s incredible. You’re like a marine: trapped for years behind enemy lines. Your gun has been taken away, you’re out of ammo, you’re malnourished, and you’ve probably caught some kind of jungle virus that’s making you hallucinate giant spiders.

And you’re still just going, “GIVE ME A STICK. I’M NOT DYING OUT HERE.” “A cry for help” makes it sound like I’m supposed to take pity on you, but you don’t need my pity. This isn’t pathetic. This is the will to survive. This is how humans lived long enough to become the dominant species.

With NO hope, running on NOTHING, you’re ready to cut through a hundred miles of hostile jungle with nothing but a stick, if that’s what it takes to get to safety.

All I’m doing is handing out sticks.

You’re the one saying alive.

I legit cried at this. I’ve needed to hear it put this way. Bless this post.

Every time I see this post I stop to read the whole image. It always helps — even on the good days.

Because it wasn’t weakness. It wasn’t shameful to seek help. It wasn’t pathetic to “cry for help”. I was looking for a stick, be that from myself or from someone else. I was trying to find a way out. I was trying to heal myself.

this is fuckin incredible. 

I’m sorry if I repost to many of these, but if it could be someone’s “stick” then it’s worth it

For anyone that needs to read this today. 

-FemaleWarrior, She/They 

They also have this one and I think quite a few others but these two I keep on my phone and pull up on my bad days.

Text in the second image:

“Why are you so lazy?”

But you’re not lazy. Lazy is when you shrug things off because you can’t summon up the give-a-damn. When you’re curled up tight on your chair, at your desk, alone and grey and desperately wishing that you had your life in order, that you did all those things that you had to do, that it didn’t feel like breaking rocks just to feed and clothe yourself and get some sleep, that’s not lazy.

People don’t understand. You tell them “It’s Hard.” They tell you, “No it isn’t. You’re just lazy.”

You start to wonder if they’re right. Is breaking those rocks easy for everyone else? Are they that much stronger than you? They don’t look like they’re struggling. “Just try harder,” they say. But you’re trying. It’s not working. Breaking boulders in your path until you’re spent isn’t lazy, and you do it day after day.

You’re not lazy. Most people don’t have those rocks to break.They don’t even know what it’s like to have to break rocks to get things done. They don’t understand how hard you have to work, and how hopeless you feel, when you try and fail to do what they do easily. Things hard harder for you, they really are. And if those people had to deal with your problems they wouldn’t be doing any better.

You’re not lazy. You’re not weak. You’re fighting hard. I guess I just want you to know that I know that.”

End image text

Second image made me tear up.

That scene in Goodfellas where Henry runs his hand over Karen’s body…

twice…

Bless you and your children and your children’s children, Marty.

— Karen Hill, Goodfellas

Dr. Jennifer Melfi // 5.01 Two Tonys

Someone tell Lorraine Bracco I love her very much