This post has content warnings for: late series steven universe spoilers, rough chuckles, not actually really CW just using this as a spoiler tag.
well, it's bea
- she/her
- ko-fi.com/popidol37544
well, it's bea / multifaceted megafauna / mixed-race lebanese / plural, median (✨: Sylvia /🔔: Rime /🎙️: Alex / 🥊: Stella) / over 30, still not tired of our bullshit / 🔞 / no flirting unless explicitly cleared to do so / PFP: Daikanu
posts from @hystericempress tagged #shitposts
also: #shitpost, #shitposting, #shitchost, #shitchosting
...and you have to determine based solely on context clues whether they're discussing Land of the Lustrous, Steven Universe, or both, before deciding whether or not you think they're completely off their rocker
✨I loved this moment in Season 2, Episode 16. And this one in Season 3, episode 4. Oooh, and the one where this happened in Season 5, episode 12? That was GREAT!
✨ We're lighting up 7-barreled jackal hive drone warfare kush. I gotta get back to Phobos and the only ride that'll take me there is a latex-uddered cowgirl wired-up with a deadman switch. I hit that shit harder than bosons bouncing off a cybergoth vixen's fat titties. Fella tried to step to me outside the Tannhauser Gate. I lit him up with a hypermemetic doom fractal and smoked him like a malamute thunderfuck pickle surprise spliff. Last thing he saw before St. Peter welcomed him to oblivion was a ten gallon hat and the smoldering fragments of his own psyche evaporating into the ether. I don't give a FUCK.
✨🎙️I'm smoking three umbilical cords out of an old boot. Call me Fed-Ex, I've got so many messengers riding my dick. I'm that Charnel Lane powder kegged fucker nightmare-tripping on madman's knowledge. This shit ain't nothin', man. I was doing hits of afterbirth off the ritual chalice before Pthumeria was a glint in Queen Yharnam's pussy. If you think I gave a fuck you need more insight to see how few fucks I ever gave. The Healing Church must have amnesia, Laurence, they forgot that I'm him!
✨We're snorting 9 Mohs scale cabochon super boof, they make it out of powdered rutiles. We're doing lines of it straight off my facets, 84-carat untreated. Call that the Galaxy Warp because it annihilated Tunguska. My tectonic forces put a shine on your cleavage's critical angle, that's why they call me the rock tumbler. Don't ask to see the price tag; you can't afford me, you stupid piece of shit. My cut is so clean it's geologically imperceptible, I'm moving like James Hutton.