1. aesthetic stan: probably got a cute url or smth like … 1melon or whatever lmao …… they either reblog aesthetic posts on their main or have a special side blog for it where they post random pictures from instagram…. pretty mobile themes… usually quiet and nice. probably like using heart emojis. have a nice tagging system!
2. loud, extra stan: TAGS TAGS TAGS oh god the tags, they cant live without TAGS, you either Go Full On Caps Lock When You See A Picture Of Ur Ultimate Bias Or You Go Home, enthusiastic, lovely, and humorous! might not have many friends but many people love them and are too shy to tell them usually, they Scream and They Make Memes Probably, “INVENTOR OF THIS COLOR INVENTOR OF MUSIC INVENTOR OF JEANS INVENTOR INVENTOR INVENTOR”, feel lots of things At Once, “OJYMNDNSNDNSKDJNDND”, usually pretty popular stans, have urls that are not forgettable and funny
3. soft stan: theyll never shut up about their bias trust me, will see a picture of two trees probably and go “me and (bias)💘”, actually write love letters to their biases sometimes, really just want the best for their bias, “my baby…. my cinnamon apple😢💕💞💘💗💝💞💕”, uses heart emojis alot whew!, or just emojis in general… they love them, they seem polite, sweet and their presence is usually calming!, probably likes reblogging aesthetic stuff as well!, probably has some url like “(bias)sgf/bf/girl/girlfriend/baby/etc”, usually pretty protective over their bias, probably well liked
4. the ‘i never talk’ stan: never uses tags, never posts, all just reblogs…., they probably like ur posts ALOT, and you kinda wanna follow back, but who… are they even, mobile theme is.. questionable sometimes, i think all they care about is just reblogging the stuff they like lmfao theyre not about that tumblr life probably
5. drama stan: have beef with everyone, probably have a mile long byf page, and a block list lmfao, they usually post aesthetic stuff and maybe have nice urls too, seem intimidating and ‘mean’ usually, “callout post for (insert url)”, petty and nosy as hell, cant mind their own business!
6. the normal stan: a pretty cool person actually, you just think…. Wow i wanna be friends w them bc they seem so tolerant and nice?, uses tags but in a normal way, like “#oh my god #hes the cutest #my heart”, you just wonder how someone can be this chill…, they probably rarely come online too!
7. the multifandom stan: their blog is….. Everything, a pretty MESS, how can they even keep up like dang…, have so much love for so many people… its great!, might occasionally post personal stuff, probably a gif maker, generally liked, friends with the normal stans probably!, a great tagging system usually
8. the NASTY stan: “DADDY😫😫😫”, probably use twitter, thirsty as hell Give Them Water, theyre similar to the extra stans usually, kinky as hell, probably under 18 LMFAO, “i want them to **** ** ** *** ***”, people probably told them to chill before, they usually dont really care, NOOOOO CHILL, loves reading smut probably🙃
9. the gfx stan: SO GREAT, MAKE AMAZING EDITS, come up with great things you just wonder yoooo how they Do That, probably too cool for you, might not talk often! but they get lots of messages probably saying how nice their work is, are just great people like… thanks Gfx Stans For Existing
Why Amethyst not hating herself anymore is not out of the blue - or an Amethyst development analysis season per season
This was originally a reply to another post, but people asked me to write it as it’s own post so why not.
Amethyst’s character development has happened on screen apparently this need clarification since early season 1.
In the episode “Tiger Millionaire”, season 1 is when we are first introduced to Amethyst’s inferiority complex. We learn she doens’t feel appreciated by the gems and uses wrestling to feel better about herself.
In the end, the gems let her wrestle, recognizing how pressured Amethyst felt.
The next important episode in Amethyst’s development is “On the Run”, season 1. We learn how she was made in the Kindergarten and how she sees herself as bad because of it.
She thinks Pearl sees her as “a mistake” and the episode ends when Pearl reassures her that she think Ame’s good and the two reconcile.
You see a sentence
written in cyrillic. Some of the letters are familiar. You see the
meaning shimmering underneath the surface. You almost grasp it, but it slips away. The letters on the page mock you silently.
You know this Czech word. You’ve already learnt it in Polish. It is not the same word. It is a grave insult. Your slavic friends are shocked and embarassed for you when they hear you speak it.
There is a sentence in
Croatian. There is a sentence in Serbian. There is a sentence in
Bosnian. They are all the same sentence.
You have to write about your day in Slovak. You spend the night polishing the draft. You fail your assigment. It’s written in Czech. You don’t know Czech.
P is not what it seems. You have to remember that.
The Croatian sentence
does not mean what the Bosnian sentence means. They both mean the same in Serbian.
That word has a diminutive. The diminutive has its own diminutive. The diminutive of the diminutive also has a diminutive. Nobody knows what the final diminutive of a word is. Some say the knowledge had been lost in centuries past and matrioshkas are the echo, the tangible warning left for us to remember. No living creature should hold the means of diminishing something into nonexistence. Others say you may still find some of them in old soviet textbooks, if you dare to look in abandoned schools of Chernobyl.
Someone is speaking to you. Is that a he or a she? You aren’t sure. It’s an abstract concept. Why does it have gender.
You see a word in a
dictionary. It has seventeen letters and only one vowel. You close the dictionary very carefully not
looking at the phonetic transcription. The shape of it haunts you in
your sleep. You wake
up face damp with tears, a bitter taste on your tongue. The clock blinks 3:03AM. You do not dare look up that word again.
This word means the
same thing in the five slavic languages you’re familiar with. You use
it in the sixth one. That word does not exist in this language. It never
did. There is now a word-shaped void in the fabric of this language.
The natives look at you uneasily. There is a new quality to the silence and your palms start to sweat.
H is not H. H is not H. H is not H. H is not H.
One day you flip through your dictionary. A page is missing. What was the word? You can’t remember. There is pressure building at the back of your head. The clock blinks 3:03AM.
You write my name
is in cyrillic. There are shadows dancing on the walls. They grow
longer with each letter you write down. It is not cyrillic you’re
using. You keep writing my name is. The shadows now bleed from
the tip of your pen. It’s irrelevant. You need to remember the right
N is not N is not N is
not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N is not N
is not… If only you could remember the letters. The letters are important. What was it, that wasn’t N?
There are nine different prefixes
you can add to a verb to change its meaning. There are fifty three different suffixes you have to add to a verb to make it
work. In the end the only thing left of the original is a vague shape
of one of its middle consonants.
You can feel the anguish radiating from the verb’s mutialted form. A desperate sob escapes through your clenched teeth.
You’re so, so sorry, you didn’t meant to. You didn’t. It doesn’t matter.
You now read a text in
Russian. You’ve never learnt Russian. Why are you reading that text? The words burn your eyes,
the meaning searing your mind.
There’s a shot of vodka in front of
you. You don’t drink alcohol. You don’t care. All existence is
meaningless, your soul’s in eternal pain. A broken matrioshka lays at your feet. There is no salvation, she says boring into your eyes. You open your mouth to answer, but there is only a burst of harsh rustle. It dies in whispering echoes a moment later. Your glass is empty again.