((Just for the purpose of this one shot, Jaime was released from the Kingsguard after Robert’s Rebellion and retook his place as Tywin’s heir. I did my best to stick to your exact request. I hope you like it!))
Word Count: 2,162
Warning: Some Smut. Definitely. I suppose cousin incest.
You were born to Ser Kevan Lannister and Lady Dorna Swyft
and were raised in the halls of Casterly Rock right alongside your cousins,
Jaime and Cersei. You were beautiful, as all Lannisters are, and you had a bit
of wit and spunk as well. Growing up, you had the typical look of a Lannister
and was often compared to Cersei.
Okay SO. I’m normally not super into writing character/reader fic, there’s really no reason to it. But some of the requests I got in my drabble call were SO sweet and nice, and HECK do I know what it’s like when you can’t find any fic for the pairing you want to read. So this goes out to @randomrebloggingasshole and @thorins-magnificent-ass who asked so dang nicely, I’ll try to do a few more as well, maybe a smutty one?
NOTE: I tried to keep the reader character gender neutral so those that don’t use she/her pronouns can hopefully enjoy as well.
. ¸ . ✩ really sorry for the quiet everybody, I am going through a huge bought of depression because of some personal stuff that is making everything a struggle right now. I don’t want to reply to any of you at less than my best, you don’t deserve that, but this depression low is a doozy. So if anybody wants to send me asks from your character or meta topics I’d really appreciate it! I’m going to try and throw myself at some stuff in my inbox tomorrow, assuming I can get up the energy to do anything other than lay on my face. But even at this low I love all of you, you’re awesome !!
Blue Ivy and North West are the perfect example of how black girls are not allowed to just be themselves. Even before birth, people have been calling Blue ugly and now white gays saying she look like a man. Black men fetishizing North and using her as a reason from why they want babies with non-black women. Little black girls can’t even breathe without you ugly worthless bastards demonizing and degrading them.
Summary: Soulmate!AU/Reincarnation!AU. Female!Reader lives in a world where alien invasions and hordes of death robots occur and past lives and soulmates are very real. Like most people, she gets brief glimpses of her past. although a person’s past lives and their current life may have little to nothing in common, soul mates tend to transfer between lives, the core of a person staying the same throughout the eons.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader
Warnings: Language, violence, death, guns
Word Count: 2,301
A/N: I’m back, friends. I hope you enjoy! Things I never thought I’d be doing at 5 am: looking up gun models and how to shoot them. Also, Steve’s middle name.
You’d thought about moving many times. New York was nice, but way expensive. You owned a small coffee shop in The Village. The property had been in your family for generations. It was stable enough now, after five years of hard work, that you weren’t worried about it falling apart if you weren’t physically there to look after it. You’d looked at some places a little farther north, and even a couple places on the west coast near Seattle, Portland, and San Francisco. A change of scenery was something you needed after living in the Big City your whole life. Now, you’d wished you had.
Debris rained down around you as you ran away from Midtown Manhattan. To where, you weren’t entirely sure. Away from the murderous aliens on speeding hovercar contraptions was a good first step. It was the end of the world, you were sure. Unlike everyone else, who’d gawked dumbly at the sky when a giant beam of light shot up from Stark Tower and ripped a whole in reality, you had run. You’d seen enough horror and sci-fi films to know when shit was about to hit the fan. Some people might have once you thought silly for putting stock into the fantasy world of comic books and movies, but you argued that you practically did live in one with men like Tony Stark and Captain America around. Hell, the Captain even had trading cards.
You weren’t sure how much of a head start you got, but it didn’t feel like much of one. Within two minutes of the portal opening in the sky, the aliens had come pouring through the streets. People ducked behind cars and upturned patio tables in an attempt to survive the barrage of energy blasts coming from the aliens’ guns. Your lungs burned as you ran through the streets of Greenwich Village.
You ducked into your coffee shop, narrowly avoiding the blast of an alien’s gun. A few patrons were cowering under the tables, bags clutched in their hands in front of them like shields.
“May! Get everyone into the back,” you yelled, locking the door behind you. You were thankful you’d sprung for nice, stylish, sturdy metal doors. As much as you missed the beautiful old oak ones, these would hold much better against energy blasts… or so you’d hoped. May and Dean’s heads popped up from behind the marble counter, eyes wide with fear.
“Boss, what’s happen-” May began.
“Now, May! Dean, you start closing the shutters. It’ll be harder for them to get in if there’re metal bars in the way,” you barked. They didn’t move. “Now!” you growled. “Unless you don’t like living anymore!”
That seemed to return the feeling to their legs. May hopped up, urging the customers to follow her into the back room, which led to a sturdy cellar that might hold out if they started dropping heavier artillery. Thank god for World War Two architecture. Dean reluctantly left his spot behind the counter but ran speedily towards the front of the shop and began closing the metal shutters on the two large front windows.
“Turn the tables on their sides once you’re done- they’ll give us some cover and turn into obstacles for those ugly bastards,” you direct him. You pushed past petrified customers and ran into the back room. You silently thanked your Papi for being way too paranoid and a little bit of a hick as you opened the large safe hidden behind some of your store’s merchandise. You punched in the last number and wrenched the door open, eyes scanning the guns inside.
Before he’d died, he’d shown you how to load and shoot all five of the guns. He’d kept a small army’s worth of ammunition inside the safe with them, and as much anxiety as that had caused you once upon a time, you were grateful for it now. You loaded the Glock 26 Gen 3 and placed it on top of the safe as you loaded one of the shotguns- a Remington 870. A hand on your shoulder startled you and you swiveled, ready to fight for your life.
May flinched, arms coming up to defend herself. You breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Sorry, Boss,” she said, eyes wide, dark curly hair messier than usual, obscuring her pretty face.
“It’s alright, May. You know how to shoot a gun?” you asked, picking up the Glock.
“No, ma’am,” she asked, paling.
“Alright, it’s pretty simple. Hold it with both hands, keep your arms straight, aim, pull the trigger,” you said, handing her the gun carefully. “That Glock has no safety. Keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to shoot,” you said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder as she stared at you, horrified.
“Dean, get in here!” you yelled through the doorway. He appeared a moment later, cheeks flushed from the exertion of turning the cafe on its head.
“Do you know how to shoot a gun?” you asked him, picking up the Remington.
“My dad took me shooting once when I was ten,” he asked, looking from you to the shotgun in confusion.
“Alright, do you remember what you used?”
“A handgun, I think?” he said, doubtful.
You sighed. “Alright. This isn’t anything like a handgun except in that it also succeeds at killing things with metal and gunpowder. You see this?“ You asked, pointing to the lower tube. He nodded. “This is the magazine. I have four shots loaded,” A terrifying loud explosion rattled the floor beneath you. May and Dean’s eyes widened in fear, heads swiveling for the source of the noise. “Focus!” you barked. Their gazes snapped back to you. “Four shots loaded. There are eight more on the butt of the gun here,” you said, pointing to the shells strapped to the side. “Keep count of your shots. When you run out or get a minute, you can reload here,” you explained, flipping the gun over to show where one could load it. You popped another shell into the magazine, demonstrating for him so he would hopefully remember. “Five shots, now. Here.” you said, handing it to him. He stared at you blankly, not taking the gun, face pale. You groaned, shoulders sagging.
“I know, Dean. Shit’s fucked six ways to Sunday, but you need to focus. I’m terrified, too. But if you think those alien bastards are going to take me down without a fight, you’re mistaken,” you said, shoving the gun to his chest. “Fight. For. Your. Life,” you said forcefully, staring him down. He gulped and nodded, taking the gun from you. “Good man. Brace the gun to your right shoulder. Stare down it to aim. Pull the pump back to load a shell into the chamber. Push it back forward into place to finish loading it. Pull the trigger to fire. Rinse and repeat,” you said, turning back to the safe to finish loading the last of the guns. You loaded the Colt Python revolver for yourself, jamming it in the back of your pant’s waistband, internally cringing at the breach of gun safety. You loaded the other Glock, placing it on top of the safe. At last, all that was left was the Ruger 10/22 Semi-automatic. You threw its strap over your head and onto your shoulder, gun on your back, and handed May and Dean boxes of ammunition.
“I pray to whoever might be listening that they don’t make it through those doors, but if they do, we have to be as ready as possible,” You said, grabbing ammunition for your three guns. May and Dean nodded. You could see it on their faces; They were determined but afraid. You internally cursed at the travesty of gun safety as your jammed the Glock into the front of your waistband. Desperate times and all that. You peeked into the store. Whatever had caused the explosion hadn’t seemed to affect your store. You took up a defensive position behind the counter. “May, you’re going to be shooting whatever comes through the windows or door, with me. If it gets closer, let Dean take care of it. The shotgun is better at close range- tiny death pellets’ll rain hell down upon ‘em from that thing. You just focus on trying to make sure they don’t make it that far. Keep your head down as much as possible. Try not to pop up in the same spot- they’ll expect it. Got that?” you said, glancing at the two of them next to you, sitting beside each other. They nodded, unconsciously reaching for each other’s hands. Huh. You wondered when that had happened. “Don’t get dead, guys,” you said, standing to rest your arms on the counter to help steady your aim. “If we survive this we’re going out to a fancy restaurant for dinner- I’m buying,” you said winking down at them. They both gave you a brave smile. You turned your attention back to the door, trying to ignore the fear in the back of your mind. You wondered if you had been a soldier in one of your past lives- it might explain why you were able to stay calm even though every nerve in your body was screaming at you to run. But you had a shop full of customers downstairs. People with friends, family. Who had no hope of defending themselves. You refused to stand by and let yourself and others be killed.
The aliens that had been clambering over their dead companions suddenly dropped, lifeless. You stared at them in disbelief, waiting for them to move again. You hadn’t shot them. After a minute, when they didn’t so much as twitch, you rose up from behind the counter slowly. You raised your revolver and fired a round straight into the chest of the one closest to you that had been alive a moment ago.
Not so much as an eyelid flutter or gasp of breath. No hiss of pain.
Next to you, Dean was sobbing, clutching May’s lifeless body to his chest, gun forgotten at his side. His hand grasped hers, his lips placing tender kisses to her umber knuckles and forehead, begging her to wake up. His fingers tangled into her messy mop of curly black hair. Her dark, glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling, seeing nothing.
You sunk down to the floor next to them, adrenaline leaving your body now that there wasn’t an immediate threat in front of you. “She’s gone, Dean,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.
“No, no! She can’t be- She-” he broke off, sobbing as he rocked back and forth, clutching her to his chest. It was like he didn’t see that a sizeable chunk of her chest was missing, vaporized by a shot with one of the alien’s guns. “She was my soul mate,” he whispered in a choked voice.
“Oh hell, Dean… I had no idea. You never told me,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“We only just found out recently… asked to see each other’s soul brand… We both thought it might be each other, y’know?” He smiled faintly at the thought. It slid off his face as he returned the present. “Sure enough, our initials were on each other’s brand. When I saw D.A.H. there on her skin… I was the happiest man on earth. She saw her own initials and-” he sobbed and tears dripped down onto May’s face. “-I’ll never forget her smile. She-” he broke off, unable to stop the sobs as they wracked his body. You wrapped your arms around them both, ignoring the acrid scent of burning flesh coming from May’s body and rubbed circles into his back. There were no words of comfort you could give him. Losing one’s soulmate was nearly worse than dying. And he had watched it happen in front of him. He’d been unable to protect he and she’d died helping defend him. The only comfort they had was that they might meet again in their next lives. But that wouldn’t be very comforting to him. They were both young, fresh out of high school, working at your cafe to save money for college. He would have to go through the rest of his life without her.
You held him as he cried out everything he had, clutching his dead soul mate to his chest. Something in the corner caught your eye. The TV had turned back on, broadcasts returning to inform everyone of the situation. Apparently a group called The Avengers had closed the portal and stopped a nuke from destroying the city. Allegedly, as soon as the portal closed, all of the aliens had dropped dead. If you hadn’t seen it happen with your own two eyes, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. Whatever The Avengers did stopped them, though. You felt your breathing stop as a choppy, grainy video of a man and woman fighting in the streets of New York came on. She worse a suit made entirely of black leather and was expertly killing aliens with one of their own weapons.
The man was who truly caught your attention, though. Even though the outfit had changed a bit, you recognized him immediately. You’d heard rumors he was back, found preserved like some sort of human popsicle in a huge iceberg near Greenland or something. You hadn’t dared to believe. But there he was, fighting aliens on New York streets. Your heart ached, one of your past lives recognizing him as the love of its life. You sighed, melancholy. You glanced down at your wrist. In your mind’s eye, you could see the initials S.G.R written there beneath the scrap of fabric you kept it hidden with.
*Tag list below the cut. I’ve tagged everyone from the previous fic for this chapter. If you’d like to stay on the tag list for THIS fic (Time), please send me an ask, like this chapter of Time, or like thispost. If you don’t do any of these things, you’ll be untagged for chapter 2 :(*
My late contribution to Smite Selfie Day. Sorry I’m so gross in this. Thank you @gorgontears for helping me feel confident enough to do this in the first place. I know I’m ugly, and I’m sorry I tagged you on this ugly ass pic you beautiful bastard.
A/N: So this is my entry for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s Trope Challenge. I had co-workers to lovers with John Winchester, I hope you guys enjoy xoxox Also, this got WAY sadder and angstier than I anticipated but still there’s floof at the end. (Possibly considering making this a series…? Not sure yet) HUGE, GIGANTIC thank you to Mimi for graciously letting me participate in one of her writing challenges <3
Warnings: language (like right off the bat lmao), angst, sadness, tears, lots of pain, mentions of blood, John being a douche, but also fluffy and scared John, violence, harm done to baby wendigos
“Stupid fucking son of a bitch” you mumbled under your breath as you snatched your clothes off the corner of the bed and stomped into the bathroom.
John definitely heard you. He just ignored you because he knew calling you out would just start a screaming match that neither of you had the energy for. To say it was a bad hunt would be the understatement of the century. You would’ve had a better chance at fighting Azazel with nothing but a plastic spoon.
You peeled your dirty clothes off, trying not to close your eyes because every time you did you relived the moment that could’ve been your last. All because John wanted to do shit by himself.
Request: Hello! can you please write a one shot/ imagine for Castiel x Reader when the reader goes to hunt the wendigo, despite what the Dean and Sam said to her, then she gets hurt by the wendigo and lost, but Castiel is the one who saves her and cuddles afterwards. sorry to be so specific, but i want a lot of fluff :D
Word Count: 709
Here you go! I hope you like it:)
“You can’t go by yourself, Y/N. It’s just too dangerous.”
“I can do it on my own!” You insist, folding your arms irritably. Don’t they trust you at all?
“We know, but we want you to be safe.” Sam says, and you huff.
“Fine, whatever.” You turn away and stalk back to your room, already making plans to sneak out.
Less than an hour later, you slip out of the window and make your way towards the dense forest. On a dark, moonless night such as this, you can hardly navigate your way through the trees. You manage, until you hear a very humanlike cry.
“Please, you have to help me! It’s got me! Someone, anyone, please!” It’s followed by a scream and you wince, carefully advancing towards it. It’s probably mimicry, but with a flamethrower in one pocket and a flare gun in the other, you’re not at all worried.
A bit stupid, really.
You find a small cave and grin triumphantly.
“Here, you son of a bitch. I’m cordially inviting you to a barbecue- oh, shit.”
The shadow approaches from behind you, grabbing you and striking a blow to your head. You’re knocked out almost instantly, but not before you see the weapons fall from your pocket and skitter across the floor.
The first thing you hear when you wake up is a quiet whimpering of someone past fear and into pure terror. Your hands are bound above your head and your toes just brush the floor, leaving your essentially useless.
“Psst,” You whisper, twisting to see the person in the darkened cave, “Are you hurt?”
“N-No…” She whispers, and you sigh, “But…Adam!”
That’s when you realise there’s a rather mangled corpse lying on the floor, your shoes brushing in its blood.
“I’m presuming that was Adam.”
“Yes.” She sniffs, letting out a sob. “Who would do this?”
“Not so much a who as a what.” You say, and she lets out a cry.
“We should never have come here! I thought it would be romantic.” She sobs. That’s when you hear the heavy footsteps.
“Shut up.” You hiss, and when she doesn’t, you kick some of the blood at her, “You need to be quiet!”
She yelps, but the sobbing stops as the shape appears in the only lit place in the cave- the entrance. It advances, and makes its way over to her.
It bares its teeth and she screams loudly.
“No!” You tell, wriggling exaggeratedly, “Oi, over here, you ugly bastard! Don’t touch her!”
With any luck, Sam and Dean will arrive in time to save her, at least. It advances on you, and you close your eyes. You feel its claws digging into your ribs, splitting the skin. You yell out, and suddenly, the cave is filled with a bright light. You grimace, tightly closing your eyes, not letting it permeate the skin. You know what it is. And you sure as hell don’t want to look at it.
When the light fades and you open your eyes, the wendigo is gone. It has been replaced by an angel wearing a slightly dirty trench coat.
“Oh.” You cough, “Hey, Cas. Thanks for dropping by.”
He rolls his eyes and with a snap of his fingers, the ropes are gone and you only just manage to stay on your feet.
“Are you hurt?” He asks, and you lift up your shirt to reveal bleeding scratches covering your ribs.
“Just a little, it’s nothing.” You say, but nevertheless, he presses two fingers to your forehead. You blink, and they’re gone. “Thanks.” You whisper.
Suddenly, you’re back in the motel room.
“What about that girl?” You ask.
“She’s currently at home, grieving the unfortunate death of her boyfriend in a car accident.” He says, and presses his lips together. “You can’t risk yourself like that, Y/N.”
“I know.” You say, “But I was so close.”
“No, you weren’t. I’m not saying this because Sam and Dean need you, despite the fact that they do, but I need you.”
“Yes, me.” He pulls you close to him and buries his head in your hair, suddenly. You smile, wrapping your arms around him. “I’ve grown rather fond of you.”
“we are the only ones not drunk at this party. wanna make everyone in here do embarrassing things so we can blackmail them later?” au prucan please? :)
Pairing: PruCan (Prussia x Canada) (Human names used)
Canada (Matthew) as himself
Prussia (Gilbert) as himself
Special guests: Spain (Antonio), Romano/South Italy (Lovino), Veneziano/North Italy (Feliciano), Germany (Ludwig), France (Francis), Japan (Kiku), England (Arthur)
It was New Year’s, and the group had a nice party to celebrate. However, there was one tiny problem; just 30 minutes past midnight and all of the guests were already drunk off their asses. The only sober ones were Gilbert and Matthew because they drank some juice instead. The two could only sigh as they watched the drunken group talk gibberish to each other.
“This is ridiculous.” Matthew sighed.
“So not cool!” Gilbert added.
“…want to make them do stuff for blackmail later?”
“Hell yeah I do!” Gilbert pulled out his cellphone.
“Hmm…” Matthew innocently walked over to Antonio and Ludwig, who were peacefully drunk in their own daydreaming state. “Hey, Antonio, Ludwig.” Matthew started out, smiling. “Remind me again who of the two was the better football player?”
“Me.” Both Antonio and Ludwig stated. The two snapped their heads at each other, growling ever so loudly. Matthew went on to leave his hidden diabolic touch with the other drunk members.
“Lovino, Feliciano, it’s your turn for the kareoke!” Matthew giggled.
“Is it?!” Lovino asked.
Feliciano hiccuped. “Oh about time~”
“Matt, what the hell are you doing?” Gilbert asked. He had no idea what was he doing, but he knew that a storm was being brewed up by his actions. Matthew backed away to Gilbert’s side, and counted down as he began to record with his own phone.
That’s when Matthew’s small actions caused hell to break loose.
“ALRIGHT!” Lovino yelled into the microphone, rubbing his eye gently. “You motherfuckers better sit the fuck down cause we’re about to blow your mind!”
“No one sings better than an Italian!” Feliciano squealed into his own microphone, the two brothers standing on the coffee table as the kareoke machine began to play its music. On the other side-
“DO YOU WANNA GO?!” Antonio screamed.
“HELL YEAH I WANNA GO.” Ludwig screamed back.
“I’ll show you…~ I’m the BEST at football and no one will say OTHERwISE!” Antonio let out a hiccup, picking up a pillow, and throwing it on the floor. The two grown men stood facing each other, the pillow on the floor. A drunk Kiku stood between the two.
“Ready” He took a sip of sake. “Set…GO!” Just as suddenly Antonio and Ludwig began to try to kick the pillow around like a football, failing miserably 80% of the time as they tripped over their own two feet.
“S…Stupid football! Moving around aND SHIT!” Ludwig growled.
Then Alfred came into the room, slamming the door open. He was equally as drunk. “DID SOMEONE SAY FOOTBALL?!” Gilbert didn’t had a chance to correct him. “FREEEEEDOOOOOM!” Alfred screeched as he sprinted across the living room, tackling Antonio down to the ground, across where he stood and right into the singing Vargas brothers.
“I don’t wanna be like cinderel-AHHHH!” Lovino shrieked along with his brother as they fell off their table, Alfred and Antonio on them, the coffee table flipped over to the side.
“TOUCHDOWN!!!” Alfred yelled, standing up as he pulled a now unconcious Antonio by the shirt.
“No~ Alfred that’s your football…~ It’s called goooooaaaal~” Kiku hummed.
“YOU ASSHOLE I WAS SINGING!” Lovino screamed. Feliciano began to cry.
“I miss grandpa Rome!!!” Feliciano cried. Lovino grabbed Alfred by the shirt, about to punch him until Alfred began to sniff him around.
“What the hell are you doing?” Lovino asked.
Alfred stared at Lovino suspiciously. “You smell like tea.”
“HEH?” Lovino asked. Alfred dropped Antonio, picking up Lovino in his arms as he began to run outside towards the pool.
“INTO THE HARBOR!” Alfred screamed, Lovino shrieking as he was thrown right in. A half naked Arthur ran out of the kitchen to the outside.
“Not thE TEA!” Arthur screamed.
“I HATE EVERYONE!” Feliciano screamed sobbing, throwing a pillow across the room out of drunken anger. The pillow hit a fazed Ludwig, which brought him back to reality. Ludwig stared down at the pillow, before his eyes seemed to analyze the item, and then widen.
“DEUTCHLAND!!!!” Ludwig screamed, throwing his arms into the air as he began to cheer, thinking he had kicked in a goal.
Japan gasped, gently patting Ludwig. “Omg Ludwig you shouldn’t call yourself a douchebag.” They heard Feliciano scream, the two of them hurrying over to him worried. “What’s wrong?!”
Feliciano looked down horrified at his pants, which had been tainted with tomato sauce a few hours earlier. But of course, his drunk self didn’t remember. Instead-
“I…I think I’m on my period…!!!” Feliciano whispered horrified. The two grown men’s eyes widened in utter horror and distress.
“hoLY ShIT!” Ludwig huffed.
“What do I do?!” Feliciano sobbed. “I’ve never had my period before!!!”
“It’s ok, Feliciano! We’ll help you!” Kiku said, grabbing Feliciano and Ludwig and dragging them to the nearest supply closet. Inside Kiku searched around for anything that they could find. He took out a mop. “Quick. Shove it in your pants. It will absorb the blood!”
Outside Arthur and Alfred were fighting over the whole tea into the harbor thing, drunkenly of course. A lonely Francis sat at the edge of the pool with a fishing pole, fishing in the pool.
“Wow the fish aren’t biting a lot today.” Francis said between hiccups, his body swinging from side to side. He felt something pull on the line, and he rilled it up, only to fish out Lovino by the hook catching on his underwear. Francis glared. “…that’s one ugly fish…”
“WHO YOU CALLING UGLY YOU BASTARD!” Lovino snapped.
“IT TALKED!” Francis then just dropped the fishing pole, and Lovino into the pool with it.
Gilbert was crying from laughing so hard, hugging Matthew as he could barely breathe from all of the laughter.
“MATT!” He gasped. “I can’t! How! Oh my god!” Gilbert laughed. The best part was he had recorded all of it.
Matthew laughed with him, smiling as he held Gilbert’s hand. “I’m sleepy, let’s call it a night. We can blackmail them tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.” Gilbert said, picking Matthew up in his arms as he carried him upstairs to one of the rooms to sleep for the night.
By the next morning Francis was shaking back and forth in a corner about a talking fish, Lovino had caught a cold, Alfred and Arthur were asleep in the backyard while hugging each other, Antonio was still knocked out, Feliciano slept soundly with Ludwig, the two hugging each other as an awake Kiku stared mortified at the mop sticking out of Feliciano’s pants.
I don’t give a rat’s ass about going to hell. Guess I feel like I’m already there. What I do mind is the thought of being killed by you ugly bastards. I’ve gone my whole life without being helped by anyone else, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let you help me into my grave.