joke ask: what if Inv?
seen from Netherlands
seen from TĂźrkiye
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia

seen from Japan
seen from United States
seen from T1

seen from United States

seen from Russia

seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from United Kingdom

seen from India
seen from United States
joke ask: what if Inv?

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
(to the murder cat) are u a bitch
Write a story about a guy who really likes a sandwich, so much so that he feels a need to say how much he likes it very often and hurt people who don't like it by making them inferior sandwiches that are also poisoned.
Hello, Large!
This was an admittedly strange ask, but I will nonetheless answer it! Also, you didnât mention a specific character, so I took free liberty to decide which one to write it for!
!SANDWICHES (and poison) AHEAD!
âĄâĄâĄ
⢠America (Alfred F. Jones)
During one bleak, dreary afternoon, our favorite bubbly hero decided to make himself a delicious and tantalizing BLT sandwich.
He was amazed at his own craftsmanship, awed that he was able to make such a scrumptious thing.
The sandwhich was perfect; the white bread was soft, the tomato and lettuce were freshly organic, and the bacon was cooked to a crisp.
It really was the best sandwich Alfred had ever laid his two baby blues on.
But, it was perhaps a tad too flawless. It was simply divine, it didnât deserve to be touched by him, let alone eaten.
So, he kept his sandwich in a glass container for him to admire always, mouth watering just by staring at the tempting meal.
No matter how painful the pangs in his stomach were, Alfred refused to eat the beautiful BLT. He was deeply, hopelessly in love with it, and there was no turning back.
China, or Yao as was his designated human name, then stumbled across an entranced Alfred sitting alone at a kitchen island barstool, chin resting on his hands as he gazed adoringly at the gorgeous sandwich. Yaoâs eyebrows furrowed as he glanced between his blond acquaintance and the moldy, rotting sandwich.
âAmerica, what the heck do you think youâre doing?â Yao questions, crossing his arms and frowning in disapproval. Alfred blearily turns from the sandwich and looks at Yao, his appearance disheveled and worn.
He looks as though he hasnât moved in two days. He smelled like it too.
âWhaâŚ? Oh, itâs nothing dude.â The normally chipper American dismissively returns to his precious BLT, ignoring the fuming maleâs presence.
âNuh-uh! This is not okay!â The brunette stomps over to Alfredâs display case and grabs the sandwich, cringing in disgust at itâs slightly wet feel.
Alfredâs yells of protest fall deaf on the Chinese manâs ears as he stalks over to the trash bin, promptly throwing the sandwich away. The blond stares, wide eyed in disbelieving horror, at the atrocity Yao had just unknowingly committed.
The American feels rage simmer just below his skinâs surface, his hands clenched at his sides in muffled rage. Yao obliviously washes his hands to rid himself of whatever gross stuff was on Alfredâs old BLT.
âB-Bro, youâŚ!â Alfred clenches his jaw, shutting his eyes and biting his tongue to keep from spitting curses and death threats toward his fellow nation. Yao quirks up a brow, putting his hands on his hips.
âI do you favor by throwing that disgusting thing away.â He comments through broken English. Alfred exhales harshly, forcing his normal thousand watt grin onto his face.
âOh, man, youâre right! Thank you so much dude!â Alfred lies. Yao preens under the praise, satisfied. âWhy donât you sit down and Iâll make yaâ something to eat, yeah? A real hero meal!â The hazel eyed man studied Alfredâs face for a moment before shrugging.
âOkay, that fine by me. But if you make me sick I sue.â Yao threatens, plopping down into a chair and looking around the Americanâs kitchen, noting the differences between his own kitchen.
Smiling wickedly, Alfred darts into the kitchen and quickly makes Yao a sandwich; although it wasnât as good as his previous one, of course.
With a flourish, Alfred sprinkles in a bit of poison, flattening down the sandwich with his hand and waltzing back into the dining room, setting the plate down in front of the Chinese man.
âThank you for the food.â Yao says gratefully, picking up the sandwich and inspecting it curiously. Alfredâs fake smile stretches wider.
âNo problem dude! Eat up!â Nodding, Yao takes a bite of the contaminated sandwich and immediately clutches his throat, coughing and wheezing.
âA-AmericaâŚ!â
The brunette begins to foam at the mouth, his eyes rolling back as his body convulses and shakes erratically. Alfred watches for a moment, disinterested, before Yao goes completely still.
Then, Alfred skips over to the trash and gathers the stinking ingredients of his BLT, putting them together the best he could.
Afterward, he strolls back over to the display case and sets the sandwich back into itâs glass, shutting the lid and taking a seat next to the deceased Yao before resuming to once again stare at his beloved.
~ F âĄ