dear_mun | OC with a complicated app to write, planning on going to Asgard

Hold on, babe. Seriously. Hold the fuck on.
You're telling me, that you're suddenly going to take all this development you've got for me from "other scenarios" and scrap it all in favor of something new.
Won't lie when I say it's pretty fucking badass for you to suddenly decide that I'm this pseudo-immortal fucker, as you like to call it.
But what's with this whole, can't be fucking killed bullshit? You've got it all organized that I've been shot in the skull, I've overdosed, I've been disemboweled--so, come on. How the fuck do you expect me to ever die? Because you've already ruled out old age, thanks to this me stopping-aging-at-nineteen crap.
So, what? I've got to explode?

[Yes actually, Anton.]

Wow, babe, you are fucking nuts.
But, hey. Going to a city ruled by gods? Sure as hell beats the second Cold War, am I right?
No way my dad's gonna find me there, right? Right? No? Good, you better fuckin' stick with that shit.
'Cause if that jackass shows up? Shit, babe. I don't know what I'd do with you. Maybe I'll rig myself with explosives and blow myself up and take you with me.
Heh, you think I'm jokin', doncha?
Remember, babe. You're the one who said that I'd stop at nothing to find out what could kill me.
So, don't test me, kay?