#long live the Fuckwad Jar

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I finally did it yall I made a list of my favorite Cartmanisms bc I do in fact very much enjoy writing his out of pocket ass

“Oh speaking of,” Cartman added, “let’s just sacrifice the Insulin Bitch and the brain damaged hippie to the zaliens so the rest of us can make a run for it.”

Eric was scowling. “Only I’M allowed to make comments about you two gayasses. I say we wipe the floor with those homophobes.”

“I doubt they’ll have a vest in your size, Thumbulimia.”

“Please, I have better things to do than watch the Jew have a Post Traumatic Spider Disorder episode.”

Cartman rolled his eyes, but got up to drop a five in the Fuckwad Jar. “I hate you guys, seriously. Marj, you weren’t even in the room for the Nancy joke.” The lace trim of his robe fluttered as he sat back down, which made Stan laugh again. “What’s so funny, hippie?” There weren’t really words, honestly, but he’d try. “I just… I never want us to change, you know?” “Gay.”

Eric sung a few lines of ‘Jesus Loves The Little Children’ in a creepy horror movie voice and then sprung out from his hiding spot and started blasting on an unsuspecting youth who got too close, chasing him down the field with rarely shown athleticism.

Cartman looked incredibly bored as he clicked the magazine and snapped it back into place. “Well fuck me for being prepared.”

Cartman scoffed. “He’s not doing anything but staring up at you like he’s Sleeping Goddamn Beauty and you just kissed him out of a coma.”

“Awww, looook, you guys! They’re having a gay little hurt/comfort moment again! What, you gonna kiss it better, Kahl?”

Cartman just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “What the hell ever, Jimothy. Go stutter about it to someone else.”

“Okay, fucking first of all,” Kyle shot a glare at Cartman, “no one’s getting sacrificed. Literally, that’s not goddamn happening. AND we’re keeping this discussion CIVIL. It’s five in the morning and nobody’s slept very much. There’s not a single guy here who’s actually thinking straight.” “That would be because half of you are gay as balls.”

“Once again, I’m moving that we leave the hippie behind.” “Cartman, remind me to kick your ass when we’re out of here.” “Good luck on that if you fucking faint like one of those stupid goats again.”

Cartman was out of bullets, but he’d taken out a good chunk of the extraterrestrial undead. “Holy shit, Kahl, you better not die on us. Cockroach, remember? You’re a damn cockroach.”

“Aight, so anyway, what’s JewBot up to?” “Still at work. He’ll be home later. We’re gonna go out to dinner with the Tuckers.” “I didn’t ask for your life’s story, buttplug,”

“Oh JESUS CHRIST!!” Oh, great. Cartman had emerged from his cave. “Did I just walk into a stairwell orgy?”

“Fuck you, Kahl. Your recycled dildo and his weirdo wingman pulled me out of a Klance slowburn.” “WHO the FUCK is reading Voltron fanfiction in 2023?!” “Some of us are dedicated.”

Eric paused his self imposed quest to rob every taco truck in GTA and set aside his controller. “Hellllll no. The vampires don’t get my blood without paying me for it.”

“Geez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.”

“Fatass, if he dies in a car accident because YOU made him freak, I WILL kill you.” “Good luck doing that with one leg and a fever, fleshlight.” But his voice softened. “Just try to chill out until he gets home, Kahl. Then you can be a terrible patient for someone who actually likes you.”

“Yeah, hippie. I wasn’t going to deal with you if something happened to your burning bush.”

A certain abrasive fuckwad leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, the Bubonic Jew didn’t tell you yet? I said he fell on the stairs, didn’t I? He just hurt his knee again, what else is new.” Stan made a noise of surprise and Cartman pointed his beef jerky at him. “By the way, I really don’t get why you get so stoked about lugging him around. He’s difficult.”

Cartman scurried off to inspect a leaf. “Woah, you guys! I think I just, like, discovered empathy!” “You’re looking at a plant.” “Plants have feelings too, Khal! Look at your photosynthesizing dildo back there!”

“Like he needs an excuse to get on his high horse about shit.” “I’ll kick your fat ass,” Kyle warned. “Good luck, tinkerbell.”

Cartman had planted himself into the passenger seat, munching away at that bag of funyuns. He glanced back. “What’s the ‘sitch, Ken-Possible?”

“Because, you pussy,” Cartman said with a false saccharine smile, “you have the biggest TikTok following from your gayass little songs.

“Yep.” Cartman said through a mouthful of eggs. “Plus, Clyde has an affair going with the town vet, Butters is a total twink, and Stanny boy has a boner for the Jew.”

Oh dear god. Cartman was NOT about to babysit the argumentative dickhole while the housekeeper worked. As much fun as he was to fight with, Kyle was a fierce opponent, and Cartman wasn’t really in the mood. He’d had a weird night. The cats had been on edge.

Oh, of goddamn course. The OTHER buttplug. It wasn’t a secret. Well, technically it was, because no one talked about it, but anyone with eyeballs could see that Stan and Kyle had a gayass little private relationship going on behind Craig’s back. Good for them, or whatever, but if the Spider ever got proof…

Cartman just rolled his eyes. “Scott, you glucose gobbling ass bitch, I’ve literally butchered two people. I know the human body, okay?”

“The fuck.” Cartman’s eyes widened. “Every single one of you dildos had better be praying that there’s no internal bleeding.”

Cartman put his hands up. “Gahdamn, you guys. Just trying to lighten the mood in this hot air balloon to Hell.”

“Ay! Hippie! The Jew had to stay for basketball so I’m here with your buttfucking homework-“

Cartman definitely wanted to rip on him for wallowing in his own sadness, but the sooner he got this loser to be a person again, the better. “No shit, asshole. Your fucking fleshlight is even more intolerable without you to hold him back. You need to come back to school.”

“Also, I’m telling your little prince of Egypt that he can come over. It’s not like he’s gonna catch your Sad Bitch Disease.”

Cartman strolled around the corner, now wearing his frilly ‘widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances’ robe.

#he’s so fucking funny #i actually love writing my favorite abrasive fuckwad #south park #eric cartman #why are so many of these OJV or from ITTG lmaooo #him in TWITR was fun too #my shit #Cartmanisms #ao3 shit #my writing #he do be callin people buttplugs fleshlights and dildos #also #long live the Fuckwad Jar

[veliseraptor]

yeah it’s that time again, the time called “there are too many things I want to work on and not enough decision making cells in my body” aka “150 words meme!” send me a number and I will write 150 words in that fic. 

this round we’re talking just NINE fics. trying to keep the field narrow in the hope that I can make substantial progress on some of these.

1. “Kind as your solicitousness is,” he said, brittle, “it’s also unnecessary. If you’d excuse me, I am going for a walk.”

And he went out. He hadn’t eaten anything. Steve rubbed his forehead and grimaced.

“Nice,” Bucky said. Steve dropped his hand and gave him a hard stare that Bucky returned with perfect equanimity. After a moment he raised one shoulder and let it fall. “He doesn’t trust you. Why would he come to you for help?”

Are we talking about him or are we talking about you, Steve wanted to ask. “Any bright ideas?” He asked, a little sharper than he meant to, but Bucky didn’t seem offended. If anything, almost amused.

“He doesn’t trust you, but I think he wants to,” Bucky said. Steve startled, half thinking Bucky was putting him on, but his gaze was level. “That’s his weakness. He’s looking for someone to count on.” (Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains)

2. After another moment of waiting for more, Wanda sat down. “Based on what I heard,” she said slowly, “I thought you and Thor were…”

“At odds?” There was some irony in Loki’s voice. “We were. I had...a shift in perspective. Just in time to die.” He barked a laugh. “And if that isn’t just typical.”

“What is?” Wanda asked. Loki’s eyes slanted toward her briefly, then moved back forward.

“The last two times I came face to face with death,” Loki said, “I had nothing in particular to live for. This time…” His lips twisted. “The universe has an abominable sense of timing. That is all.”

Wanda looked down at her hands. “You asked what Thanos took from me,” she said quietly. “He took the man I loved. He asked me to...to kill him, to keep Thanos from winning. And I did. But it didn’t matter. He won anyway.”

Her chest ached. She bit her lip to keep from crying.

“You were braver than I was,” Loki said after a long silence, his voice quiet. “I was given a choice, too. Between Thor’s life and giving Thanos what he wanted. I chose the latter, and I would do the same again, and condemn the universe so doing.” (Dead Superheroes Walking)

3. “Open your eyes, Francis,” he said. “Your companions are not here. I thought it time for a private conversation.”

The eyes did open, then, though only just. “How kind of you,” Lymond said. Despite his recent unconsciousness and the circumstances preceding it, there was no strain in his voice. “Are we to commence negotiations, then?”

Gabriel laughed. “Negotiations? No. You are here to choose the terms of your surrender.” (gather frankincense)

4. “I appreciate your...solicitousness, Grandmaster,” Loki said carefully. The Grandmaster beamed at him.

“As you should! But you haven’t seen anything yet, sweetness. I’m going to be - we’re going to be very good to each other. For each other.”

Loki raised his eyebrows. “Is it to or for?”

“Why not both?” The Grandmaster’s grin was wide and full of teeth. His hand migrated from the side of Loki’s shoulder up to his neck, and Loki tensed, but the Grandmaster didn’t seem to notice. Or if he did, didn’t comment. (the rapture of that cruelty)

5. Morgause used to say, you can’t trust her. Your chambermaid.

Of course I can, Morgana had said dismissively. Gwen’s the one person I can count on.

Then why, Morgause asked, have you never told her about your magic?

Morgause was right. Morgause usually was. And now Morgause is dead, and Arthur sits on the throne that should have been hers. (Darkness, Darkness)

6. Steve walked back to Loki, who was shivering under the covers, his lips nearly colorless. His breathing sounded wet, and as Steve reached out to check his temperature he started coughing again, deep and productive, his whole body shaking with each one.

When he stopped, gasping for breath, his eyes were open to slivers. “Steve,” he said, half a question.

“Right here,” Steve said. “I’m right here.”

“Don’t go,” Loki mumbled, his voice rasping; his throat must be raw from the cough. “Please don’t…”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve said fiercely, but he wasn’t sure if Loki heard him. (Tremors)

7. “Hm,” Rogers said. Loki couldn’t tell exactly what it meant, but he shifted and moved on a moment later. “So. You didn’t turn me over so that you wouldn’t get caught if people started poking around.”

“Precisely.”

“Huh. All right.” That seemed to satisfy him, at least. “What’re your plans?”

That stung, though it shouldn’t. “As soon as I can stand longer than five minutes I expect I shall return to plotting the downfall of humanity,” Loki said.

“You’re offended,” Rogers said.

“Oh, no,” Loki said. “Not in the least.” (the first steps stumbling forward)

8. Tony wasn’t answering his fucking phone.

There was no way even he had a way of knowing that it was Clint calling. Maybe thought it was spam, but he’d left three voicemails so far telling him to pick up his phone and stop being a self-centered fuckwad, or did you miss the attack on New York?

No answer. He’d have tried Pepper, but he didn’t have her number.

Clint hung up on his fourth attempt to reach Tony and couldn’t keep himself from shouting “fuck!” at the top of his lungs. The side door of the car was open and he could feel Loki staring at him. Spinning around, he snapped, “what are you looking at?”

Loki flinched, which just made Clint want to yell at him more. (the enemy of my enemy)

9. Mildmay and I had not discussed what had happened at the river. I had no intention of doing so. I could only hope he would follow my lead. It seemed likely that he would; communicative was not an adjective that could be comfortably applied to my brother.

A gust of frigid wind slapped me in the face, jarring me out of my thoughts. I looked up, but there was no sign of either Mildmay or the mule, and only my own tracks behind me.

I’d lost sight of him. Wandered off, like a lost sheep. A half-blind lost sheep. (the last glimpse of winter)

#fic excerpt #meme #confessions of a frustrated writer #annnd go

[begrimedchains]

♣

♣ - a fading memory [fairly disturbing hc ahoy, js]

  “Yer crazy, Ev. Th’absolute bat shittin’ sort.”

  There’s bickering overhead–about what in particular, he’s uncertain. But uncertainty is not a stranger below the floorboards, rather–it’s a state of being that blossoms out of another called silence once the owners of the house stir up enough ruckus in its veins for it to creak and carry their concerns to the ear he’d pressed flush to the floor’s underbelly. Raised voices rise louder than their usual hushed and steady tones taken as tame as communion. It’s enough of a disturbance to draw him to the hole, an opening that bled the diseased light of a dusty pantry bulb into his enclosure.

  “What’s crazy is you thinkin’ we can stand to keep feedin’ a mouth what don’t contribute round here. Trust me. You put’im to work, we’ll all be better off for it. Includin’ him.” The higher of the voices clucks while every strand of matted hair along his back bristles belligerently in recognition. Perhaps there was an innate ability in all living creatures to recognize the call of mother even before their sealed eyes opened for the first time, and he is no exception to the rule; it didn’t mean he had to like it or clamber over himself to answer nature’s most ancient of calls. Instead, he waits below his peep hole, eyeing the bags of sugar on the shelves. Once, he’d watched a whiskered thief gnaw its way into one of the bulging sacks of flour, spilling soft powder on his face until he was evenly dusted. He still awaits the day the traps Evelyn set for the vermin are forgotten, and another crafty beast scurries through the Thompson's treasure trove to send more savory spills for him to sample. His usual blend of liquidized leftovers was already bland enough for him to idle below the pantry, slobbering patiently.

  “Work? Christ’s sake, th’boy can’t even talk.” Bottles clink from somewhere deeper in the heart of the house, carrying a sour scent on the slurs that often announced Max Thompson’s presence before his thunderous footfall could manage the same task with less stomach-turning results, of course.

  “And he won’t needta.” Her muffled voice suddenly clears as the door to the pantry creaks and caves in, inviting two silhouettes onto the wall his eyes have strayed on long enough to catch the sudden stain the shadows make against the wooden paneling. “You can’t up and shoot a good idea between the eyes just ‘cause it ain’t ready yet. Give’im a chance. Ev’ry animal we keep’s got ways to provide, and he ain’t an exception.” Her tone lowers in temperature, or perhaps a draft has stolen in through the open pantry door? Whichever the culprit, he tries to shake the goosebumps off his filthy flesh all the same, though rattling his chains only serves to alert the two overhead to his unapologetic eavesdropping below. “Might as well show ya just how well this’ll pan out.” Rummaging ensues. The sound of a jar slowly pried off peppers his ears as a sickly sweet smell causes an uproar in his gut. Restless, he circles beneath the hole expectantly, shouldering the floor at the end of each rotation.

  “Oh, “well” is exactly th’word I’d use to describe ev’ry bar skunk what’s gonna make their way outta here missin’ the tail between their legs.” Unconvinced as ever, Max Thompson drowns the rest of his skepticism, a task that ends in a cacophony of coughs and the sound of a fist pounding his chest.

  “That’s why you hafta sweeten the deal.” Suddenly, the peep hole is filled–eclipsed of its meager light. The broom handle fills it completely, and for a moment, Billy expects the oblong intrusion to thrash in place in the hopes of bashing him over the bridge of the nose for daring to linger and listen in on their garble. Instead, it barely taps his cheek, sticky and smelling of the sweet cream that dripped through the floor once with the morning coffee before a team of  towel and boot could mop it up. Intrigued, he lingers close to the bobbing broom, heaving heavily to memorize the scent that hardly fails to stoke the vicious hunger settled in his stomach. The residue on the handle is soft and supple against the stretch of flesh growing along his jawline, and soon enough, it swivels into the opening of his gaping wound of a mouth. The taste is as sweet as the smell, perhaps even sweeter, and he makes no protest of the broom burrowing a ways past scarred gums to settle at his tonsils.

  “Once he’s trained up, you’ll see.” The words are runny and hard to focus on with his mouth full, but even if they were clear enough to consider, he’s too concerned with suckling his share of the whipped slathering, a task far easier once the handle’s gone still enough for him to enjoy the rare treat coating it. That is, until it suddenly slides free of his gullet and disappears through the hole again, leaving a white ring of frosting caked along the circumference of the opening. Lunging up, he laps quickly at the mess, tongue braving the splinters of the opening to secure the last few licks he needs to clean up.

     A disgusted noise escapes Max, one that isn’t mired in swallowing his own bile for once. “Bringin’ this shit into my house…makin’ whore holes outta pantries. Y’must be outta yer damned mind. M’not comin’ down here fer a late-night snack just t’walk in on some fuckwad humpin’ th’paint off m’floor.”

  “Good thing it’s under your house then, darlin’. ‘Sides. We’ll charge’em extra for th’peanut butter.”

#;nsfw #;boi let me tell you bout billy's first job #;it was a real blow out #;scuse me while i go to hell #╳ ᶜᵒˡᵈʷᶤᶰᵈ ᶠᵃʳᵐ╱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴍᴘsᴏɴ ʜᴏᴜsᴇ; ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏғ ᴀ ʜᴏᴍᴇ #╳ ᴴᶜ╱ ﹙ᴄʜᴀɪɴ﹚ sᴀᴡ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜ

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Woke up from an evil nap and the first thought I had was that one of Cartman’s Jar Crimes that got a double fee via Boyfriend Amendment was calling Kyle “Bone Broth”.

#no I don’t know why I thought of this #but it’s fucking funny #OrangeJuiceVerse #headcanon #long live the Fuckwad Jar #Cartmanism #the fact that 90% of this post will be gibberish to people unfamiliar w the ojv or the jar

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Alright I can’t sleep so it’s time for OJV headcanons that only myself will probably care about but who’s turn is it? Surprisingly not Kenny yet, but

Cartman.

• OrangeJuiceVerse Eric Cartman is an abrasive fuckwad, but he’s not actually Evil.

• He genuinely cares about his friends in his own fucked up way, but he will deny it every goddamn time. Like in hs he’ll give kenny a ride home when his shitty death trap car won’t start but he WILL insult him the whole way.

•this hasn’t been seen in the fics yet, but this mf starts a WEDDING PLANNING COMPANY called, you guessed it, CUPID ME. Marj actually got her degree in hospitality and helps him with it. Both the Style and Kenjorine weddings were GORGEOUS and so personal.

•he didn’t go to college himself but still lived with the group in their weird little house close to campus, and was the one to dubb the place “SP Survivors Safehouse” and named the EXTREMELY dangerous staircase the Widowmakers.

•was the drum major senior year but was incredibly lazy about it, just wanted a “position of power” (only got the position bc he’s an okay clarinet player and his mom slept with the assistant director)

•definitely fights with Kyle growing up ofc because as a child, he WAS truly evil. Like sociopathic. In 6th grade he FINALLY gets some mental help and is surprisingly good about keeping up with the cocktail of antipsychotics and various other shit, plus therapy and trying really hard to empathize with others.

^on that note he still ACTS LIKE A TOTAL DICK most of the time because he thinks it’s funny, but also because he is terrified of anything changing in their group and ya can’t teach an old mr kitty new tricks

• has the most OUT OF POCKET INSULTS ever and is SHOCKINGLY good at naming things. He coined the phrase “Sadsack” too.

• most of them are to mess with kyle of course. Some of his favorites are “pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof”, calling him a burning bush, prince of Egypt, things of that nature. HOWEVER!!!

•the rest of the gang accepted long ago that Cartman was always just gonna call them names and be a general jerk, but they SET UP RULES AS TO WHAT HE CANT DO/SAY!

• in high school, they implement the “Fuckwad Jar”.

• the rules of the jar are as follows: he can rip on his friends, but the SECOND something he does or says genuinely hurts someone, he has to put a dollar in. No exceptions.

• for example, he can roast Stan for being a “tree hugging hippie” and call him a buttplug, “photosynthesizing dildo”, but he CANT call him an alcoholic or try to bring home a taxidermied dog

• he’s not ACTUALLY for real transphobic, but if he tries to make a joke about Marj for shits and giggles, JAR!

• since his favorite target is Kyle, he has the most shit. He DOES still make fun of him for being Jewish, but ANYTHING GENUINELY ANTISEMITIC and ESPECIALLY ww2 “jokes” get the Jar. He’s also not allowed to say SHIT about his body, eating habits, or make ED jokes (this was a rule Stan made on his bfs behalf). Once, he made a concentration camp /ed joke COMBO while only Kyle and Marj were in the room. Kyle completely froze, but Marj went over and FUCKING DECKED HIM. When the other two got home and Kyle got over the initial shock, they all forced him to cough up his entire wallet lmao

• he can call Kenny a perv and rip on him for being poor and “pocket sized with nothing in his pockets”, he’ll call him McWhoremick but the Kenny jar rule is that you DO NOT SUGGEST THAT HES DISLOYAL

•sry I just enjoy the concept of the jar lol

•has a lot of fun living with the gang during his gap year, holding on to that last little bit of childhood normalcy, but eventually he does have to move on. He winds up traveling for a while and eventually settles in Nevada and sets up his business

•has a cat and that thing is SPOILED AS HELL

•tries to send Stan one of those beef jerky club memberships every year for Christmas lmaooooo

#south park #headcanons #ojv #OrangeJuiceVerse #eric cartman #Cartman hcs

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Get your juice cups ready, because it’s time for another orange flavored slice of life! That’s right, fellas, welcome back to the OrangeJuiceVerse with

Extremely Stupid And Incredibly Avoidable

Who wants a 2nd semester of college SP Survivor Safehouse gang going paintballing? How bout some stupid banter? Some nostalgia? Marj perspective? Shenanigans?

Long live the Fuckwad Jar

#south park #I love friendship #OrangeJuiceVerse #my shit #as with all ojv works you don’t need to be familiar w the lore it’s just a bonus they can all be read stand alone #I didn’t even injure anyone ok wow the whumpshot Wizard spared the boys #but in all seriousness this was so heartwarming to write #them #ao3 #ao3 shit #fic link #one shot #marjorine stotch #kyle broflovski #kenny mccormick #stan marsh #eric cartman #main5 #style #sp kenjorine