burningdiotoir

The wooden wheels of the traveler’s carriage creaked as they rolled over the damp dirt road. Criminally lacking in suspension, the old technology made sure that the occupants inside felt every rock, pot hole, crack, and bump in the most spine shattering fashion. “Do you think he could TRY and avoid at least one bump?” grumbled Esse. Appearing as a young woman no more than 30, Esse was as serious as they come. Brown hair in a tight bun. Clothing clean and pressed. A sharp tongue to point out faults and correct mistakes. A severe case of resting bitch face. Esse felt that the world is out to get her, and if one had access to all the facts, they might agree. A particularly large bounce only solidifies the scowl on her face. “He must be doing it on purpose…” “Don’t overthink it, babe,” responded Zyntris, the second occupant. A younger girl of 27 and much more lively, this girl was focused on picking a complicated multi-stage lock she snagged in the previous town. Zyntris kept her hair

{A Pokemon Stuffing Fanfiction} {Stuffed Characters are 18+} Those who lived in the Galar region were very familiar with Team Yell and how they're fans of Marnie and would do anything to ensure that she came out on top. This led to them doing all kinds of stuff to impede Marnie's competition, which was very annoying but overall harmless, so most people didn't see them as an actual threat. This perception of them quickly changed, though as they changed their tactics for how they went about impeding trainers, going from simple nuisances to something that was more of a mild threat. Which didn't seem like much change at first glance, but trainers who had an encounter with them recently would tell you otherwise. What sounded like a silly tactic on paper proved to be their most successful tactic for impeding trainers, being a plan that involved restraining a trainer that they found and stuffing with as much curry as they possibly could on the spot. By the end of the stuffing session

Y’know, some people will put on a few pounds, and they’ll do the craziest things to try and get rid of them. Not that Dr. Harleen Quinzelle, formerly licensed therapist (heavy emphasis on the “former”) liked using that word. Or really anything about that sentence, in light of the fact that she was the one who had put on a few pounds, and that she was the one who had done the crazy thing in question in hopes of losing them. Honest-to-gawd, she had been paying far more attention to the treadmill part of the whole “cosmic treadmill” thing when she had the idea. Since she was playing nice with the Justice League (for now, anyway) it only made sense (in her mind, anyway) that the Flash wouldn’t have any objections to helping her stay in fighting shape. She was busting heads out in Gotham just the same as any bat brat, so why shouldn’t she have gotten a little help now that she had bleached her sheets? “I hope you’re hungry, Catnip~” came the dulcet tones of Pam Isely, Harley’s