#Used Garbage Trucks

[kirrbee]

*that's it, i sentence you to the baby swing!

*dont stare at this creature for too long or he dies of shame 😢

[steevejr]

truly so baffling to me to hear people complain about their electronics like my coworker was complaining that her 2017 Mac was so slow its barely functional and it’s like what do you MEAN your 8 year old Mac is dead? mine is from 2013 and runs flawlessly?? what are you doing to your $1000 machine ??? filling it with peanut butter and TikTok viruses?????

[jimalim]

My favorite type of post on this site (updated version) are cybertruck fails

[bitchapalooza]

Is it weird I'm excited about the idea of wheeling a trash can to the front of the house and a garbage truck picking it up? All the little things about living in a house I didn't know I missed until I began fantasizing about it more....

[madlichen]

[jangillman]

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A post shared by ⭐️ Sylvia | Daughter of Liberty (@simplipolish)

[etcnnante]

anyone else have internet so bad it caused a sinkhole in your driveway

[homunculus-argument]

The grim reaper was initially illustrated as doing a mundane, regular job that everyone has seen done - a reaper swings his scythe and the hay falls, just as easy as people fall as death swings. Now many people who have never been to a farm only know the scythe as the weapon of Death personified, and farmers in most places of the world don't even use them anymore.

Imagine Death personified as someone doing a modern regular, mundane job. Imagine thinking "hoo boy, this is it for me. The Grim Bin Man is coming to collect, hauling my sorry soul into the trash compactor of his great eternal garbage truck."

[kirrbee]

*i was looking through my art folder and found a cute, older doodle of the Sans from an UT/AU of mine

please do not look at my hand writing in pretty sure i was sick-

[niceinchnails]

>listening to nin

>hear a new layer to song ive relistened to over and over

>"wow i cant believe i never noticed this before! i wonder what kind of synth he used. its very forboding in a specific way only nin can achieve"

>pause song to write post praising nin

>the synth specifically keeps playing despite the rest of the song being paused

>look outside window

>garbage truck

[angelesca]

Love your recent fic sm it's so chaotic

Even more bc when Amphoreus first came out, I kept actually calling Phainon Paimon (and then kept doing it bc God in 3.0 DUDE JUST WOULD NOT SHUT UP I wanted to strangle him so bad)

HAHA GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!!💓💓💓

honestly what if this is foreshadowing🤔 they could've gave phainon any other name - like steve or kevinator idk - but they chose one that suspisciously sounds like paimon🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 hoyo im watching you🤨🤨

omg poor yappertron phainon😭😭 (ill be cheering you on anon!!!)

[cynicalclassicist]

And yet people go on about him being a very stable genius. It is all a show with him. He is not one of the people.

Performative waste.

Putting on a McDonald's uniform.

Putting on a reflective vest.

The condescension and superiority are implicit. Trump is not you. He is mocking your struggles for two minutes and a photo-op.

[awkwardexxodus]

you need to teach little kids to love everyone so theyll respect everyone. btw.

[spikeyjo]

Almost got plowed down by a garbage truck 😂

[foldingfittedsheets]

So several years ago I was in Taiwan with my betrothed and two of our other friends, one of whom was Taiwanese the same one who made breast milk soap. One morning we had the bewildering experience of waking up to Beethoven’s Für Elise blaring through the misty morning streets.

We sat up in utter perplexity. We went to a window and watched people trailing after a garbage truck, chucking their trash bags at it while it slowly drove down the street, speakers pumping out orchestral music.

Three of us gathered at the window staring in rapt fascination and the one native friend was like. “Guys, it’s just the garbage truck song.”

Years later I can’t hear it without thinking of the garbage trucks.

So when I was working on Kilonova in our team space with twenty some people and heard Für Elise playing briefly my head popped up and I said, “Oh! The garbage truck song!”

I planned to explain but one of my teammates heads also shot up and said, “Yes!! The garbage truck song!!” I’d forgotten she was Taiwanese and we were both suddenly bonded in our mutual joy of knowing the garbage truck song together.

We then realized the rest of the team was just staring at us like ????

[littlelamy]

title: he tries to come back

warnings: 18+, language, angst, part 1 part 2 part 3

your phone won’t stop buzzing. text after text, call after call, rafe’s name flooding your screen like a goddamn sickness. your stomach churns at the sight of it, thumb hovering over the block button, but you don’t press it—not yet. not because you’re entertaining the idea of listening to his bullshit, but because blocking him feels like an admission that he got to you. and fuck that. he already took enough.

you let the phone ring, his name flashing, vibrating against your nightstand like an incessant mosquito. eventually, it stops, only to be followed by a long string of texts, desperate and fractured:

rafey: baby, please

rafey: i swear it was nothing

rafey: just pick up, just let me explain

rafey: i can’t fucking lose you

rafey: fuck

you squeeze your eyes shut, inhale deep through your nose. the audacity of this motherfucker. after everything—after sofia, after his bullshit excuses, after the way he snapped at you like you were the one out of line—he still thinks he has the right to your time, to your attention. to you.

you sit up, grabbing your phone, thumbs moving before you can second guess it.

you: your shit is at my house. pick it up and leave me alone.

his response is immediate, like he was just waiting, holding his breath.

contact name changed ✓

kook bitch: baby, please, don’t do this

kook bitch: just talk to me

kook bitch: where are you? i’ll come now

you toss your phone onto your bed with a scoff, standing too fast. your head spins slightly, but you ignore it, already moving. you don’t want to see him. you don’t want to hear whatever manipulative garbage he’s rehearsed. you just want him out of your life, out of your space.

so you gather his things. the hoodie you used to sleep in, the cologne bottle he left in your bathroom, the stupid baseball cap he always made you wear backward when you rode him in his truck. it all smells like him, like cedarwood and something inherently rafe, and it makes your stomach twist.

you shove it all into a bag and dump it on the porch.

a knock rattles the door not even twenty minutes later.

you hesitate, breath catching in your throat. then you force yourself to move, to unlock it and yank it open. and there he is—disheveled, breathless, storm-blue eyes scanning your face like he’s searching for a crack in your armor. his hands are shaking.

“baby—”

“don’t call me that.”

a muscle in his jaw twitches. “just—just let me talk, okay? just five minutes.”

“no.” your voice is cold, steely. “your shit is there. take it and leave.”

he doesn’t move. doesn’t even glance at the bag.

“i fucked up,” he says, voice thick, eyes glistening under the porch light. “i know that, i swear to god, but i love you, and i can’t—i can’t fucking breathe without you.”

his desperation is palpable, clawing at your skin, but you don’t let it seep in. not this time. because it’s not love. it’s possession. it’s selfishness. it’s rafe being rafe, taking and taking and never thinking about the wreckage he leaves behind.

you exhale sharply, shaking your head. “you don’t get to say that to me. not after what you did.”

“it didn’t mean anything,” he pleads, stepping closer, hands twitching like he wants to touch you. “i was drunk, i was stupid, i—fuck, baby, please.”

before he can reach you, before he can spill more poison into the air, your hand flies out.

smack.

the sound rings sharp between you, echoing off the house, slicing through the thick, humid night. his head snaps to the side, a stunned silence stretching between you. his cheek blooms red where your palm met his skin, and for the first time, he looks like he understands.

he doesn’t deserve you. not even a little bit.

his chest rises and falls, his lip quivering, but he doesn’t say anything. he just stares at you, his world shattering in real time. and you watch, unblinking, unfeeling.

“don’t ever come back here,” you whisper, voice steady, unshaken. “we’re done.”

he swallows hard, something breaking behind his eyes. but he nods. because he knows.

he knows.

tags: @rafesbabygirlx @namelesslosers @drewsephrry @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @lil-sparklqueen @rafessweetgirl @esquivelbianca @p45510n4f4shi0n @palomavz @cokewithcameron @donaldsonsgirl @yncoded @lilbunnysfics @solaceluna @icaqttt