Toast the Unknowing

It’s a beautiful day in the Shire and you are a horrible heroic goose

Organised crime? Nah girl I'm into disorganised crime. If a goon doesn't have ADHD they aren't getting hired

Cops can't stop us if they don't know what we're doing, and they can't find out if we have no idea either

Minions stop this post from reaching 1k

On it, boss! Gettin' this post to 10k, just like you said!

“I don’t like this song because I can’t relate to it” skill issue. I’m mad at my husband I love my girlfriend I’m a lone cowboy I’m growing old I’m growing up I’m depressed I love my friends I’m perpetually horny I’m drunk at the club I love my husband again

joe biden should do another stimulus check where the ira sends me a lox bagel. with cream cheese please

irs.

Working an office job will truly make you have the wildest enemies, bc why is my nemesis rn a woman I’ve never met and who exclusively haunts me by sending diabolical emails, and also a specific guy who left my company before I even worked here and made the system so fuckass that it ruined procedures for like a year

I hope John Boyega finds a franchise that deserves him 

You can tell a lot about a person by entering their mind palace and encountering their greatest fears and darkest hopes in a labyrinth reflective of their subconscious thoughts.

oxidized copper is such a beautiful color palette. The rich reds with the cool teals. Such a vibrant combo. No one is doing it like her.

one of the best parts of making up increasingly wild and specific aus with a friend is sending them posts like "this is sooo blorbo in torture chamber au number 15" and they reply back like "YESSS btw have i told you about my latest idea for how to torture them even more" and you get to enjoy a little snack and kick your feet with glee

one time I went over to a friend's house and their housemate was making paper in the living room, and we saw this big tub full of water they were using to dissolve old scrap paper into a slurry, and everyone was immediately like "oh, you need scrap paper?" and started turning out their jacket pockets and producing expired coupons and bus tickets and crumpled receipts and old shopping lists and whatever else they'd been carrying round with them for no good reason, and passing it all to the paper-making housemate to make sure it was suitable before it got torn up and dropped into the tub, while people took turns stirring the slurry with a big wooden stick. it was strangely ritualistic, like presenting an offering to some kind of temple elder for inspection before placing it in a watery shrine to be devoured and reformed. pulp for the pulp god.