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So I still wear a facemask in public spaces. Personal preference. All the ones I own are just these cheap $2 fabric ones from the dollar store. The problem is that they alter my sense of smell and it's fucking weird.
Like I'll be somewhere and be like, I smell weed, and I pull my mask down to confirm it, and you would think the smell would get stronger but no, it's completely disappeared. Wtf?
Like part of my job is to change and take out garbage and occasionally someone will put their discarded takeout scraps in the trash and I'll smell like rancid fried chicken, lower my mask and all that's left is the ambient smell of the fans in the ice machine.
What the fuck am I smelling?
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Hellow everyone I'm here on my monthly Tumblr binge to repost Spider-Man and be a sap.
The other day my partner came to visit and it was the first time we've seen each other after our first major argument that shook us both for about two weeks almost. (I got triggered and it was not fun, nor his fault.)
But that visit was one of the most telling and healing things I've ever experienced. The love that was not only still there but now tempered by fire, the instant relief of him walking though my door, and the care he gave me and I to him.
Not to be TMI, but it was also one of the first times we went to sleep both fully clothed, and I played some solitaire while he read for a bit before we settled in.
I never thought I was going to bother getting married, but I'm going to marry this boy someday. I've never been so at peace with the idea of living a quiet domestic life, but now that I've tasted it, it's all I can think about.
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I've been thinking about making this post for a while but I have no idea how to make it cute and poetic, but my partner collects Legos and physical media, and I collect random trinkets and am also an artist. Our biggest dream is a house with shelves everywhere to put all of the stuff.
I know the economy is shit and and our chances are slim, but I don't care how. Someday.
Someday I'll have him, and a house full of shelves.
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Tbh I actually have the opposite problem.
I have had whole story ideas pop up JUST from thinking of a random title.
But I cannot for the life of me GET IT ON THE FUCKING PAPER WTF.
writing is hard but coming up with a cunty title and catchy summary will slay even god's strongest soldier
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Daily fucking reminder that Luigi Mangione is innocent, completely and fully. He has been convicted of no crime. He has had no fair trial. He is a SUSPECT. Luigi Mangione is entirely innocent and everyone needs to stop parroting this insidious propaganda that he “committed” the crime he is only SUSPECTED of. He is not a murderer. He is not a criminal. He is an innocent man.
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I can be shaped by more than the things that hurt me
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When I told my step mom I was hired to be an assistant manager, she implied I didn't have the guts for it because she said "I would have to yell at people."
Why?
It's so much harder to run a team if you're mean to them.

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As an alternative to 'sugar, spice, and everything nice'
I present: 'salt, vinegar, and everything sinister'
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i like working at plant store. sometimes you ring up someone and there's a slug on their plant and so you're like "Oh haha you've got a friend there let me get that for you" and you put the slug on your hand for safekeeping but then its really busy and you dont have time to take the slug outside before the next customer in line so you just have a slug chilling on your hand for 15 minutes. really makes you feel at peace with nature. also it means sometimes i get to say my favorite line which is "would you like this free slug with your purchase"
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