Ok. I moved the entry here to my neglected LJ cuz it was wayyy too long for my dA page xD;

Here's a few Kuri/Scribbles ones I did (Kuri belongs to :devcrysatl: ). They all have the same words in them (except for a few where I changed one of the words) though cuz I just refreshed the page instead of starting over because it's late and I are sleepy |D

And I also just did 2 political ones in celebration for PA's upcoming primaries and a very wrong pokemon one n___n;;;;

To Niftily Lick

Scribbles and Kuri were celebrating a limey Valentine's Day together. Scribbles had cooked a hairy dinner and they ate on steroids by candlelight.

"My darling," Kuri said, stroking Scribbles's nose, "I have something for you." He gave a box to Scribbles. "It is but a voluptuous token of my skanky love."

Scribbles opened the box. Inside was a slutty pimp! She gazed at it half-assedly. Then she gazed at Kuri half-assedly. "It's succulent," Scribbles said. "Come here and let me lick you."

Just then, an algebraic crone sprang out of hiding and cackled like a hobo with ADHD hopped up on caffeine and sweet n' low. "Your happiness will not last!" she said in a hot as a black bear on an outdoor basketball court in the middle of July voice and dropped a piece of paper onto the dinner table.

Kuri read it. "It's a page from a diary. It says...it says that you're my sister."

They stared at each other roughly as the crone cackled some more. Scribbles's tail began to tremble. Then Kuri shrugged, pulled out a card game, and hit the crone on her middle finger. She fell over dead.

"Problem solved!" Scribbles said and kissed Kuri stupidly. "This is a fat and gay Valentine's Day!"

They sexily burned the diary page in the candle and never told another soul.

And then they licked each other all night long.

The Slutty Stranger

The sun was high and the trees stirred lightly in the breeze. Scribbles strode along the path, making for Skanky Castle with all speed. Hidden from the eyes of man and beast, she carried the Fat and gay Card game, which no other must touch until it could be delivered into the safekeeping of the Wizard Buttock.

A rustling of the dried leaves beside the path gave her warning and she drew her algebraic barrell of monkeys just in time to face the succulent man who flew at her with such grace that she was almost dazzled.

The man struck niftily, and Scribbles barely raised her barrell of monkeys to meet the attack. They fought long and half-assedly until all the air rang with the sound of their conflict.

At last, Scribbles found herself forced to one knee, the man's barrell of monkeys pressed to her hot as a black bear on an outdoor basketball court in the middle of July middle finger. "I am Kuri of Skanky Castle," he said. "You are an unworthy guardian for the Fat and gay Card game. Prepare yourself, for I am about to send you on steroids."

But Scribbles had been waiting for such a chance and, bringing up her barrell of monkeys with a twist, overpowered Kuri and pinned him to the ground. "What say you now?" Scribbles said, looking down upon him.

Kuri's tail shimmered like a hobo with ADHD hopped up on caffeine and sweet n' low. "I have underestimated you, Scribbles. I was sent to test your fitness for this task. To you I pledge my loyalty...and more."

Scribbles's desire was enflamed. Her middle finger throbbed and all her thoughts were to lick Kuri like a blue eyes white dragon. Scribbles caressed Kuri's voluptuous tail and he responded. They came together stupidly, and their joining was as limey as their battle, and also much louder.

"Ah, my sweet pimp!" Scribbles groaned and licked Kuri as roughly as she could.

"Ouch!" he yelled. "What the hell is that?"

"Oh," Scribbles said. "That's where I put the Fat and gay Card game for safekeeping. Sorry."

When they had finished their romp, they drowsed sexily on the grass, forgetful of all but their hairy love. "We will stay together forever," Kuri said, and they began all over again.

And so it was that the Wizard Buttock never got the Fat and gay Card game and the forces of evil overwhelmed the land and nobody was happy ever again, at least until the sequel came out.

The Voluptuous Terror Of The Snow

It snowed a foot overnight. When they woke up, Kuri and Scribbles went out to play. First, they made snow angels. Then they had a snowball fight and Kuri hit Scribbles in her tail with a big succulent iceball. It hurt a lot, but Kuri kissed it stupidly and then it was all better.

Then they decided to make a snow man.

"We'll make a really algebraic snow man!" Kuri said.

"Why don't we make a snow woman instead?" Scribbles said. "That would be more skanky and politically correct."

"I know," Kuri said. "We can make a snow blue eyes white dragon. That way, we don't have to worry about gender politics."

So they rolled the snow up niftily and made a hairy snow blue eyes white dragon. Kuri put on a pimp for the buttock. The blue eyes white dragon was almost as big as Scribbles.

"It looks limey," Kuri said roughly. "But it seems like it's missing something."

"Here," Scribbles said and held up a hot as a black bear on an outdoor basketball court in the middle of July card game. "I found this on steroids." She put the card game onto the blue eyes white dragon's head.

It was perfect. For about a minute. Then the blue eyes white dragon, even though it was just made of snow, started to move and growl like a hobo with ADHD hopped up on caffeine and sweet n' low.

Scribbles screamed half-assedly and ran but the snow blue eyes white dragon chased her until she tripped over a tree root. Then the snow blue eyes white dragon licked her sexily.

"Nobody does that to my little Slutty Barrell Of Monkeys," Kuri screamed. He grabbed an icicle and stabbed the snow blue eyes white dragon through the middle finger. It fell down and Kuri kicked it apart until it was just a bunch of snow again.

"You saved me!" Scribbles said and they shared an embrace in the snow before going in for hot chocolate.

The card game lay in the yard until a fat and gay child picked it up and took it home.

1000 Card Game Blue Eyes White Dragons

Scribbles paced stupidly back and forth. Skanky dread filled her heart. Kuri should have been home at least an hour ago and it wasn't like him to be late. Oh, my hairy love, Scribbles thought. Where could you be?

Just then, the phone rang. It was the police. Kuri had been taken hostage by Algebraic Middle Finger, a supervillain who had the city in a state of hot as a black bear on an outdoor basketball court in the middle of July terror. Scribbles fainted away, like a hobo with ADHD hopped up on caffeine and sweet n' low.

When she came to, there was a bump on her tail and the skanky dread had returned. "Kuri, my slutty honey bunny," she cried out half-assedly. "What is Algebraic Middle Finger doing to you?" Probably torturing him, laughing roughly as he licked him in the nose.

In the midst of all the terror and tears, Scribbles remembered a story her grandmother had told her. If you fold 1000 card game blue eyes white dragons, then whatever you wish for will come true.

Scribbles ordered in a supply of card game and set to work, folding blue eyes white dragons until her tail was sore and she could hardly see. It took a week. She was just finishing up the very last blue eyes white dragon when Kuri walked in the front door.

"Kuri!" Scribbles screamed and threw herself into Kuri's arms. "It worked! I folded 1000 card game blue eyes white dragons and it brought you back to me." She was so happy, she felt like she was dancing on steroids. She kissed Kuri niftily on the nose.

"Actually," Kuri said, pulling away sexily, "I was rescued by the Limey Barrell Of Monkeys. She's a new superhero in town." Kuri sighed. "And she's really succulent."

The skanky dread came back. "But you're fat and gay to be back here with me, right?"

Kuri checked his watch. "Sure. But I've got to go meet the Limey Barrell Of Monkeys for coffee now to, you know, say thanks for saving my life. Stay voluptuous, baby." He left and the door banged behind him.

I'm Dreaming Of A Slutty Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. Barack Obama sat graciously on the road to Veridian City, sipping passionate eggnog.

He looked at the erotic campaign manager hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Hillary Clinton had hung it there, just before they looked at each other corruptly and then fell into each other's arms and voted each other's tushy.

If only I hadn't been so doofy, Barack Obama thought, pouring a dumb amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Hillary Clinton might not have got so funny and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away an itchy tear and held his -censored- in his hand.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a looooong voice lifted stupidly up in song.

I'm dreaming of a slutty Christmas

Just like a gorilla in a room full of 50ft deep, banana filled swimming pools


Barack Obama ran to the door. It was Hillary Clinton, looking dull all over with snow.

"I missed you fattly," Hillary Clinton said. "And I wanted to vote your tushy again."

Barack Obama hugged Hillary Clinton and started to sob.

"I think you're drunk," Hillary Clinton said.

"I think so too," Barack Obama said and they voted each other's tushy until they knocked the Christmas tree over.

On Christmas Day, they ate roasted donkey foot and lived quickly until Barack Obama got drunk again

Erotic Love

Barack Obama finished packing. Ever since Hillary Clinton, his own true love, had been lost at sea, Barack Obama had been passionate.

There was nothing left for him anymore, nothing voted him, all was itchy. So today, Valentine's Day, he was going on the road to Veridian City to become a looooong ballots.

Just then, there was a dull knock at the door. Barack Obama opened it and stood there graciously for a moment, before falling to the floor in a swoon and bruising his foot.

When Barack Obama came to, Hillary Clinton was holding his -censored- and looking slutty. "My love," Hillary Clinton said quickly, "I'm sorry for the dumb shock. I've been shipwrecked on a doofy island for the last ten years, living like a gorilla in a room full of 50ft deep, banana filled swimming pools. I was only rescued last week." She paused. "I lost my tushy in the wreck. Can you still love me?"

Barack Obama could hardly believe his Hillary Clinton had returned. "I will always love you, tushy or no tushy. Besides, you can cover it up with a Bill Clinton."

They embraced fattly and vowed to never be parted again.

And all was funny.

A Thong In Time

On a smexy and smexy morning, Ash sat in heat. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His butt ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Brock to love someone with a smexy rear?

Sexily, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a smexy smexy thong, all on a summer's day. I wish my Brock would sex me, in his own smexy way..."

"Do you?" Brock sat down beside Ash and put his hand on Ash's hiney. "I think that could be arranged."

Ash gasped sexily. "But what about my smexy rear?"

"I like it," Brock said sexily. "I think it's smexy."

They came together and their kiss was like a virgin touched for the very first time.

"I love you," Ash said sexily.

"I love you too," Brock replied and sexed him.

They bought a pokedex, moved in together, and lived sexily ever after.

To Sexily Sex

Ash and Brock were celebrating a smexy Valentine's Day together. Ash had cooked a smexy dinner and they ate in heat by candlelight.

"My darling," Brock said, stroking Ash's hiney, "I have something for you." He gave a box to Ash. "It is but a smexy token of my smexy love."

Ash opened the box. Inside was a smexy thong! He gazed at it sexily. Then he gazed at Brock sexily. "It's smexy," Ash said. "Come here and let me sex you."

Just then, a smexy crone sprang out of hiding and cackled like a virgin touched for the very first time. "Your happiness will not last!" she said in a smexy voice and dropped a piece of paper onto the dinner table.

Brock read it. "It's a page from a diary. It says...it says that you're my brother."

They stared at each other sexily as the crone cackled some more. Ash's rear began to tremble. Then Brock shrugged, pulled out a thong, and hit the crone on her butt. She fell over dead.

"Problem solved!" Ash said and kissed Brock sexily. "This is a smexy Valentine's Day!"

They sexily burned the diary page in the candle and never told another soul.

And then they sexed each other all night long.

...I do say I'm rather immature at times...like when I was making these...and I hate how I don't make sense when I'm tired...like when I was making these...and right now.