nibsysmind - Tumblr blog

[nibsysmind]

twitter clout gives you a god complex. instagram clout turns you evil. tumblr clout does nothing and gets you 20 accusatory anons a day

[nibsysmind]

God I fucking hate Olaf the snowman so fucking much holy shit. Holy shit, every frame he's in, every scene, every gif, every jpeg, he's got this painfully vacant, stupid as shit, fuckass look on his stupid lumpy face. Absolutely no part of his ugly as sin piece of shit character design is endearing. His stupid fucking legs? Who the hell makes a snowman with legs. His dumb flaily fucking twig arms? His shitty, lumpy bastard head? The three thousand percent unnecessary dumbass shitass fucking SNOW BUCK TOOTH that no snowman has EVER FUCKING HAD IN tHE HISTORY OF GOD'S GREEN FUCKING EARTH? God, I hate him. I hate him so much. So FUCKING much. Every time I see a stuffed toy Olaf or an Olaf gif or a shitty goddamn commercial, it ignites my primal rage response and I'm overcome by the need to punt this shitty little homunculus into the fucking sun. "Bhurr blur, I'm Olaf the fuckshit snow fucker, I like warm hugs". Fuck you. Fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you. You look like Tow Mater summoned a patronus. Your dumb fucking twig hair makes your whole shitty head look like a hairy skin tag. I hate your dumb fucking lumpy carrot nose and your stupid, empty googly eyes and your over-the-top goofy ass upbeat asshole personality. Any scene he's sad it invokes all the wrath and fury of a spoiled child having a meltdown over a chocolate bar in a w*lmart checkout line. And I know its irrational. That's the worst part. I know he's just a shitty fucking side character in a stupid fucking children's movie, I know it doesn't matter, I know I shouldn't care. But that's part of the problem. The part where no matter the might and fury of my hatred, the locus of my homicidal intent is alltogether inconsequential. I find myself laying awake in the dark in the early hours of the morning consumed by the spirit of Wrath itself, all the force and might of a flaming hurricane directed at a bottle of piss in a ditch by the highway. The absurdity of it all burns me to my core. What better things could this energy be directed towards? And yet my disdain for this stupid, useless, insubstantial failure of endearing character design utterly eclipses the intrigue of all other pursuits. I hate him. I hate him on a level of my mind reserved for the worst of the world's array of sinners, and I can't even begin to justify it. Shitstick the snow dick is, for all intents and purposes, the animated corpse of all of humanity's saccharine pretenses- every condescending, passive-aggressive statement of meaningless upper middle class suburban drama distilled into a single, hateable form. The fucking. Fuck. I have no words. There is no cuss or epithet in any language that can encapsulate the height of the emotions I am experiencing. God, I hate him so much. I hate him so, so fucking much. I want to light his ugly little dumpster body on fire. I want to graphically beat him to death with his own stupid fucking nose. I want to punch him to death. You know that weird feeling you get, when you see a picture of something so cute you find yourself overcome with the bizarre, inexplicable urge to squeeze it? It's EXACTLY like that, except instead of cuteness it's disgust. The wordless knowledge that his existence as a fictional work is evidence of all the failures of mankind. I find myself possessed by the will of a Holy Angel gone rogue with the belief that God has made a mistake, and I alone must correct it. This is the trial by which Samael himself fell from grace. This wild, meaningless rage. A thousand blades of shining steel cast with inhuman force in the direction of a plastic grocery bag floating on a breeze. What horrors must I have committed in a past life to be plagued by this torment now? I must Unmake this fictional snowman

[nibsysmind]

Would you kill me, my love? For Wakanda? Without question.

[nibsysmind]

Hi everyone! Long time no see! 

I am currently writing my thesis about how people perceive relationships between men interactive narratives (and media) with basis in theories about fanfiction and BL! 

If you like reading and are willing to read my interactive text made in Twine (basically a short story where you control the narrative) and answer some questions in a survey about it afterwards it would mean so much to me! ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ

I believe it is super important to study how lgbt subtext is perceived in our media culture so if you are interested in helping me, please click the link below! It will allow you to download my text and the survey (plus more instructions!) It should take about 15-30 minutes to complete the study!

Thank you so much for your consideration! ;w; 

LINK TO THE GAME AND THE SURVEY:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1q-kvtSCMsaeab9mWX5ED8za2CYAHHZFy

[nibsysmind]

I don’t judge people by their worst mistakes.

Natasha Romanoff in Avengers: Endgame (2019)

[nibsysmind]

we got so familiar.

[nibsysmind]

[nibsysmind]

I used to start my day with a few hours of translating, but my clients have all temporarily stopped their activity, so I found a new project in order to keep my ritual going (the hardest thing about rituals is starting them…) My grandparents both wrote journals of their experience in WWII, and I started translating them for my English cousins who are interested in reading them. I have to say, I rolled my eyes at my president’s “We are at war” speech, yet I am struck by the many similarities I am finding with the current situation:

the “eeriness of empty city streets”, the curfews, the panic buying, the movie theatres closing, the inability to travel to be with family, or even to walk in the street without a written attestation (Ausweis)

French people from the cities being asked by the government to go help farmers with harvest due to a shortage of seasonal labour, just like we are seeing now

(Of course the situation was incomparably worse—I’m not equating the two, I just didn’t expect to find all these parallels)

The most striking similarity is in the way they feel about the events: they both write about how the uncertainty of these times produces a strange mixture of stress and morbid fascination. My grandmother describes the first time she saw the Nazi flag flying above the City Hall, saying she felt “distress, and an incongruous curiosity—how will all of this end?” My grandfather, writing about the dangerous process of changing his identity and obtaining fake documentation to avoid being deported to Germany, says “Tout cela est très éprouvant pour les nerfs. Malgré tout… quelle année intéressante nous traversons.” (“This is all very nerve-wracking. Nevertheless, what an interesting year we are living through.”)

My grandmother writes about how stunned she would feel if “myself from not so very long ago” could get a glimpse of her current life: all of her projects frozen in time, her studies interrupted (“I wish I had been able to finish the year—they’ve had such trouble organising the classes and exams, they gave the Baccalauréat almost to everybody!”), her wedding cancelled, “I am now hiding people in my basement”, and her fiancé, “formerly fond of insect collecting”, now “keeps himself busy planting bombs on railway tracks” to stop freight trains going to Germany.

(She uses a lot of breezy euphemisms; at one point she briefly mentions being interrogated by Nazis re: her fiancé travelling to the ‘forbidden zone’ then starts the next paragraph with “Despite this contretemps—” and moves on to how she still had time to fill her purse with dead leaves on the Champs Elysées so she could light the stove.) 

She writes about the difficulty of getting accurate information amidst all the contradictory news sources (Resistance radio broadcasts, rumours around her, German propaganda, lies from her own government), and about how unsettling it feels “quand la vie ne va plus de soi” (“when life no longer goes without saying”)

I saw French people on twitter joking about how “after coronavirus, we won’t bring back cheek-kissing, okay?” and was amused to find an entry in my grandmother’s journal saying in the middle of all this turmoil, she & her fiancé have started using the informal “you” with each other, and she hopes that when the war is over, French society won’t go back to expecting people to use “vous” until marriage. 

The very beginning of the war, around her 19th birthday, also presents interesting parallels: she is frustrated with her mother who is planning a holiday trip and acting like nothing serious is going on, and is simultaneously still confused about “the events” and wondering if she is misjudging their severity

In April 1944, as she finally hopes to see “this nightmare end soon”, she speculates on what aspect the future post-crisis society will take, when will normal life resume and what will ‘normal’ be? Then she says making conjectures is futile for the time being because “we cannot measure the depth of a derangement that is still under way.”

One last arresting part, in 1942: “Ce que j’ignorais quant aux calamités et bouleversements est que, lorsqu’on les vit soi-même, le temps passe très lentement.” (“What I didn’t know about life-altering disasters is that, when you are living them, time goes by very slowly.”)

[nibsysmind]

[nibsysmind]

thor 1 big sob time

[nibsysmind]

the road to el dorado goldposting facebook group is being invaded by the facebook group that keeps pretending to be ants and im gonna sob

[nibsysmind]

[nibsysmind]

what books were you assigned to read in a class that you still hold a violent and bitter grudge against

for me it’s into the wild and the scarlet letter

[nibsysmind]

can ppl like……… stop having a concept of me in their head ……… no object permanence here…..i only exist when im right in front of you….. no memories allowed. thx for understanding. 

[nibsysmind]

[nibsysmind]

I made a quiz that’ll tell you what kind of gay cowboy you are

why? because i think its funny

[nibsysmind]

hey I’m procrastinating so find out which gay childhood character you are