I’m just here to fuck the popcorn bucket. Completely NSFW diary-esque blog. I don’t care what pronouns you use for me but I’ll use the ones you want for you.
This is the digital log of a CBD/THC, ADHD, and energy drink powered, touch-starved, bi- or pansexual (still trying to figure out), anxious, overly-sensitive, too-much-information-sharing, squirrels-for-brains-having weirdo. I post primarily NSFW and Xx3-esque (no nude media ever) stuff. I tag my fandoms and my TMIs as needed and provide breaks and warnings before anything I think is too 18+ oriented for anyone sensitive to such material. I have the same name on … umm. Literotica, Imgur, Discord, pHub, and Ao3 as AbstractDiagram. I’m on Fetlife as FumbDucker (no full pics or nudes there), Reddit as Mobile-Amphibian4475. I swear a lot. I go off topic. I over use ellipses, parentheses, and em-dashes. Please consider yourself warned if you follow me.
He’d rather I drug myself into a stupor than help in any way. But I’m “his miserable bitch and he loves me.”
Move in with me? Won’t discuss it.
Physical attention of any kind? He “feels gross about himself” so no.
Help sorting/selling/downsizing? If he sells it he keeps the money and he will not come to my house to see anything.
Emotional support beyond “u got this” and “im sorry?” That’s the only vocabulary he has.
I’m gonna get my psych meds changed until I quit caring about anything? “Good idea.”
I’ve typed “we’re done” a thousand times. But I’ve never sent it because once again, I am too fucking invested in the other person’s emotional health to take care of my own and he’d have a break down.
Ummm…. So it’s 0445. I’m playing on my phone looking through old videos. I found this one.
I have never seen that before. I never would have saved that. I don’t use my Instagram - I think I’ve spent 20 minutes total over the course of the existence of the app.
Bad: Nurse Aide calls, “Huddle in 234.” (“Huddle” is our code for “they done fell.”)
Worse: Nurse says, “On my way, let me grab the lift.” To which the NA replies, “I’d rather you come right here.” (Said calmly, to her credit.)
Even worse: Nurse calls, “I need the supervisor in room 234 immediately.”
So I came back from break (literally three minutes in according to my timer) so the NOC Super could go up. Cuz I don’t suck at my job and I can tell that this is not a “normal” fall. So I tell Super, “Must be broken or bloody. Let me know. I’m nosy.”
Shit has hit the fan: Nurse asks, “Super? You on your way? Can you check the code status of 234? She’s on hospice.”
I’m at the desk by then and can look it up faster than they can log back into find out so I called it up. DNR/DNI.
Ok ok ok. Hear me out. I started listening to the Dungeon Crawler Carl audiobooks like a month ago. I’m almost done with book five. At the very first I thought the reader sounded like a Temu version of Patrick Warburton (Kronk from Emperor’s New Groove) and it was almost enough for me to just read the book instead. But it got way way better and the voices the guy created throughout so far are fabulous. So. Yes. I’m obsessed with DCC. Not enough for a tattoo or joining a cult or anything. But in a crafty sort of way. (And in a way that’s pissing off the people in my life that absolutely could not care less about DCC and are sick of hearing about it. But that’s neither here nor there.)
I have a FABULOUS idea and I want to put it out there.
I’m gonna make a Loot Box out of a small, unfinished wood chest thing that I have. The top is going to have this picture Mod Podged onto it.
I have to have the lettering for the front cut for me. I want silver holographic material that just says “Celestial Asshole’s Box” and the rest will just be painted or Mod Podged (depending on how creative I feel and what paints I have) nebulae and stuff like that.
I’m hoping to get started on it tonight so I can have time stamped pictures so that when my friend steals the idea (and, let’s face it, does it better because they just out do everything I can do) at least I can say I was first.
Ok. So. I’m in the throes of being high as fuck and in a creative mood. I want to continue my wound-fucking fic. I had an idea but idk if it’s hot to anyone else.
Through already established methods, the injured is not going to die. (Yet. If this keeps going, he might.) but imagine fucking someone’s slit throat. Wound fucking, breath play/control, and non-con/unconscious. I am a fan of consensual non-con. I wouldn’t find banging someone who was barely alive and out of it any fun. But it works (I think) as I set up in the first story I wrote.
Is the idea of the deepest of deep throat blow jobs while covered in blood and knowing you could suffocate them and all you had to do was nothing a turn on? An ick? An impossible scenario?
Oh! I just realized. The way I’m doing this is kinda consensual non-consent because the guy slit his own throat in an attempt to recreate parts of events he doesn’t remember and he trusted the other to save him this time too.
This is not a particularly original thought (I've probably made this exact post before myself) but one of the bleaker vast cultural gulfs out there is and likely shall remain the one between 'material children can understand and engage with' and 'material guardians and gatekeepers are comfortable thinking about their children engaging with'.
The beautiful but brief period where video stores just threw every animated movie in the same section and vast numbers of parents just assumed all cartoons were for kids was a little golden age in this regard. We need to come up with a new way to trick middle class helicopter parents into letting their 7-year-olds watch Watership Down again.
To this day I am convinced that, while I loved the movie as a child, The Brave Little Toaster is responsible for my teenage obsession with unplugging everything before I could leave the house because I was convinced something would catch on fire.
::speaker bzzzts. Hums and squeals with feedback:: *💨💨* Is this thing on? Hi, yes, this is your Captain speaking. On behalf of myself and the flight crew I would like to welcome you aboard Flight 420, non-stop to NSFW TMIsland. We ask you to observe the emergency exit located below indicated by the downward pointing arrows. Please watch for any discomfort and be prepared to vacate as needed as we do fully expect to run into the following: NSFW TMI YHBW EIYD. The airline takes no responsibility for any negative feelings that the above tags may provoke. Positive feelings, I as your Captain will take full responsibility for. Now. Just sit back, grab your energy drink, and enjoy the flight. Random brain squirrels will begin distribution momentarily” ::more feedback: “Motherfu—“ ::high pitched two second tone. Hmmm bzzt click::
⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️
Why do I use that opener a lot now? Well, because I’m fucking lazy and/or highly distractible and that’s a fast way to put in all the warnings and such that I feel are necessary. I remember how to spell “necessary” because something somewhere (meaning someone on tv) told me something about how it’s one Collar and two Sleeves and that’s how you remember. Wtf who thought that “necessary,” out of the entire fucking English lexicon, was what kids needed to know how to spell. Meh. My mother, who is driving me up a wall, always says “cheap, fast, and sleazy.” I think she called me that a time or two. Not just “sleazy” but the whole phrase.
Bahahhahahhahah! Ok. So this:
There are a few things I’d like to say about that.
1. Those are some of the MOST ICONIC MOVIE KILLERS in recent cinematic history. They are known for being scary, brutal fuckers.
2. They have Kawaii eyes and Ghostface has hearts but no one else does. Ghostface looks like he’s part of a set of Valentines Day cards with cheesy murder-based puns (that I would probably collect TBH).
3. The age range is listed (between two places) as 8-12.
4. The fucking COLOR IS HORROR!!!
All of the above adds up to this thought:
If your eight year old can tell me who at least one character is and knows what franchise they’re from (ha! Not “he’s from.” No, no, no! That is an unspecified Ghostface. And as we elders know, one of the killers in Scream 2 ((yeah, yeah, I think … three or four of them have a female killer now. But I’m (((almost said “OG” but they don’t get much more Caucasian than me))) old and I don’t remember to include 4-Wherever We Are At.)) was female. So that could be a female under that mask, thus: “they’re from.”) bah. I digress.
If your eight year old knows fuck-all-anything about any of those characters then I don’t know if you’re my kind of people or if I question your parenting. Because for a minute I was like “hell yeah, the kid knows” but unless the kid is pretty distinctly saying that they like the character or whatever, then that could be kinda mean to the kid? What if they’re scared and have nightmares because of Billy but they don’t want to tell you because you like Billy? I dunno. I’d be a rubbish parent and at this point my risk of complications isn’t worth it. Well. That. And. I don’t fucking want kids. But yeah. Even if I did want, it’s too late.
Ok. Aaaannnyway. I’m gonna make a playlist on Spotify. It’s gonna be all meme tunes. Like. Not stupid crap “real” songs that went viral. So no “What Does the Fox Say,” “Cake by the Ocean,” “Crazy Frog,” (because it’s called “Axel F” and it was the theme for Axel Foley in the movies Beverly Hills Cop ((four of em now, I think but I saw the third one when I was little and for a long time I only liked three because it was more silly and the other two were boring. The fourth I think is much more recent. (((Hang on. BRB. Ah. Yes. 1984 <I was born that year>, 1987 <bro was born>, 1994 <You do the math. It’s easy.>, 2024.))) and I haven’t see. It.))
) or stuff like that. (Yes, the “)” at the start of this line after the .gif is the closing of the parentheses waaaaay back when.
Parenthesis parentheses. But why couldn’t I find “plural parenthesis” when I searched it? It kept changing my results to “plural ellipsis” and it fucked me all up.
Oh. The songs that WILL be on the list:
1. Badger Badger
2. Chicken Banana
3. Peanut Butter Jelly Time
4. Llama Llama Duck
5. The Hamster Dance
6. Stick Stick (or whatever the hell it’s called)
I’m missing a ton of em. But I don’t remember any of em.
Ok. Anyway. My Hannigram story is calling. I guess they’ve decided they have more ideas of things they want to do and now I’m trying to find a feasible way to write an “ok as a stand alone” piece that also goes with part one AND maybe lets me have a third if the guys agree. But I’ll see if they will give me part two first.
I was helping an elderly gentleman to the bathroom early this morning - 0515ish. He is pretty stable on his feet, but as everyone in healthcare knows, “mostly stable” is not the same as “allowed to be alone in the bathroom.” So I stood with him, holding his gait belt.
Me: “I know you don’t need an audience for this part, but for safety I’ll be standing behind you. I can’t see anything.”
Him: “Oh, honey. Neither can I. It’s like a mud turtle! Goes in deeper the more I need him out. Is that normal?”
I damn near lost it at “mud turtle,” but I didn’t laugh. Instead I said, “well, in 20+ years of health care I have seen a lot of different anatomies. As long as it’s not some shade of blue or as round as a grapefruit it’s probably on the normal spectrum.”
Him, incredulously: “You’ve seen a blue penis?! How’d he manage that? Did he sleep with a Smurf?”
I have, in fact, seen a blue penis. But it was because the dye he used for his pubes colored it. I’m not explaining that to an elderly man. I brushed the question aside and got the guy back to bed and settled.
The last thing he said as I was exiting?
“Well, thank you for not laughing at my innie. You’re a good lady.”
::speaker bzzzts. Hums and squeals with feedback:: *💨💨* Is this thing on? Hi, yes, this is your Captain speaking. On behalf of myself and the flight crew I would like to welcome you aboard Flight 420, non-stop to NSFW TMIsland. We ask you to observe the emergency exit located below indicated by the downward pointing arrows. Please watch for any discomfort and be prepared to vacate as needed as we do fully expect to run into the following: NSFW TMI YHBW EIYD. The airline takes no responsibility for any negative feelings that the above tags may provoke. Positive feelings, I as your Captain will take full responsibility for. Now. Just sit back, grab your energy drink, and enjoy the flight. Random brain squirrels will begin distribution momentarily” ::more feedback: “Motherfu—“ ::high pitched two second tone. Hmmm bzzt click::
⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️
I think that there are two best things that can happen to me while I’m high. 1. I get into a ridiculously creative mode and I write nonstop full steam bullshit galore word vomit that I can then read while sober and have story lines, plot twists, scenes, entire new fics to flesh out. The other thing that can happen is that good artistry - either acting, music, writing, it could be literally anything pleasant - can become arousing.
I have dozens of notes with fic ideas (“Highdeas” as someone named that concept) and dialogue snippets and ship canon info and info about random bits I may need - such as:
“Yeah, I knew he was a fraud.”
“How so?”
“He tried to brag that he had an autographed Eddie from Rocky Horror Funko Pop.”
Why is that a valid thing? Because I got fucked up and was listening to Meatloaf and (remember to ouroboros back here <still can’t fucking spell that word without looking it up.> because it directly relates to point #2) and (it’s kinda weird to note he’s one of the patients on the episode of House MD that’s on) I looked when Meatloaf died - 2022. The Eddie Funko Pop didn’t come out until 2025. Which I knew but also verified because we’re coming into the third state of being possible while high and it’s not a preferred state. I digress. But that’s gonna show up in a fic at some point.
2 - listening to good music and just vibing - singing along like a Krakaren (See future note ⬇️ somewhere for my Dungeon Crawler Carl dissertations which are limited because I’m only midway through book four.) and just getting goosebumps over and over with certain parts. The piano in “I’d Do Anything for Love (But I Won’t Do That)”.
The song “The Dance.”
I don’t know how long that link will be good for. Last I checked Garth Brooks prevented his stuff from being online. This isn’t the best version - there’s one that just beefs up the music and adds so much emotion through it. I think the violins in this are done with steel guitar? There’s a haunting as fuck steel guitar in the best version. It kinda comes through at the end but I swear the other has way more soul.
Music especially gives me goosebumps and makes me play air piano with my eyes closed. And that in turn sometimes makes me suuuuuuuper physically needy. Which suuuuuuuuuucks because a week from this Saturday will be EXACTLY A FUCKING YEAR since I got any sexual attention. And I’m gonna MISS OUT THIS YEAR because I’ll be on my period. And even if it was something he’d consider (he won’t) I wouldn’t do it in the hotel at that time anyway. I don’t want to pay for linens. I mean, ok, it’s not that bad. But. Knowing my luck… anyway.
What’s the opposite of “moot?” Because here’s the thing. “Moot” means (meant?) “highly debatable” and ONE DUDE FUCKED IT UP. 1981. Rick Springfield. “Jessie’s Girl.” The lyric: “I want to tell her that I love her but the point of probably moot.” He meant “no use bringing it up because it’s inarguable.” And ever since that numbnuts used a Rhyming Dictionary but not a regular dictionary we now have BOTH fucking meanings when you look up the definition. So. What’s the opposite of “moot?”
Ok. Dungeon Crawler Carl. I started book one like two and a half weeks ago. I am listening to the audiobooks. I don’t have time to read until after Convergence and I wanted to know wtf all the references mean. Like “Hi Zev!””I will kill your mother!” (That one came up half hour ago.) “Mongo is appalled!” Yep. I know now. I ~hated~ the reader for the first hour or so. I kept thinking that the main voice sounded like a Shasta/Digimon/Shasta (ouroboros!) version of Patrick Warburton doing Kronk. But once he settled in and I got engrossed it didn’t matter any more. I’m digging it so far. Lots of good quotes. Fun wordplay enmeshed with the world building (which is the way to my heart because I ~love~ clever wordplay) and the variety of characterizations are enjoyable. There is one thing that’s been a pattern throughout that gives me pause but I won’t get into it because it is genuinely an odd thing to bristle at. I think the only reason it bothers me is that I try so damn hard to not do it in my own writing because it bothers me.
Ok. It’s 0532.
I want to go play the acoustic and then go to bed.
Tfw it is your monkeys and your circus, but some other ringleader let his monkeys run around in your circus. So now all your monkeys are infected with the asshole behaviour of the monkeys from the other ringleader's circus.
And now you have to sit in the fucking clown car and wait for the other ringleader to get his monkeys and your monkeys under control.
Please, please, please tell me what you think if you read it! I still haven’t watched the show or read any fic. I tried my best. I would love to fix anything out of character if you notice it! Heed the tags please. You are well warned about what you will read. Perhaps overly warned.
I was so excited. A coworker I really loved 20 years ago just got a job at my facility. I bragged about her for two weeks before she got here.
Everyone said I light up when I come in and she’s here.
She wouldn’t give me her number. Never answered the message I sent in messenger. Told me tonight why. 20 years ago she cheated on her hubby with a guy at work. She told me after the fact - her and hubby were fighting and I asked why.
But hubby is convinced I knew and helped cover it up. So he doesn’t like or trust me. There’s no way to tell him otherwise because I’m not supposed to know why she’s avoiding me. She hasn’t even told him I work here too because he hasn’t forgiven her and doesn’t trust her still.
Oh.
So it’s like she’s cheating again and I’m the other guy that has to stay secret.
No thank you. I’m not gonna be a catalyst for that explosion. I’m not getting my shovel into that potential shit show. I won’t call, message, or text. I’ll see her at work. We won’t be friends, just people we pass report to and from. I’m just the NOC shifter.
I’m not losing anything I didn’t lose almost two decades ago.
I’m just not gaining what I had been so excited for.
It hurts.
Quiet Ramblings (nsfw) @abstractdiagram - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
