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    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    🔭 Episode 36

    🎬 “Losing battles”

    ✍️ Written by Jchrist (African Goodboy)

    ____________________________________________
    🎤 Victoria P. O. V

    “At. The. Last. Fücking. Minute.”
    Biscuit groaned, going full-on mope mode.
    “Just smack me already and call me a dirty bästard. I’ll just go home, watch Baywatch and die alone.”
    I was doing my best to keep a stern face as I got up.
    “Come on. I can smack you in the car.”
    He took out his wallet, resigned. The waiter came to our table, looking at the food left on our plates.
    “Is everything alright, madam?” He asked me, concerned. “Is the food not to your liking?”
    I gave him a genuine smile.
    “The food was lovely. I just have an early day tomorrow. We’ll definitely stop by again sometime.”
    Biscuit looked up hopefully. It was plain weird how much he resembled an orphan puppy right then.
    I gave him my best bîtch face.
    He went back to moping.
    We put on our coats, and headed to the front door. Biscuit almost subconsciously held the door open for me and while he didn’t notice the gesture, I certainly did.
    We walked back to the parking lot, him mumbling, me trying my hardest not to ruin this by doing something stupid. Like laughing.
    Not yet.
    The parking lot had a few cars parked, but otherwise it was dark and deserted.
    Biscuit just about to get in the car when I caught his shirt in a fist. I pushed him back against the window glass, one hand on his chest, the other holding his tie. He looked at me in stunned silence : for once, I knew I’d caught him completely by surprise.
    “What are you doing?” He asked, quietly.
    “I’m giving you another chance.” I said, pulling his tie down, so his lips barely touched mine.
    Biscuit’s breathing got ragged real fast.
    His arm snaked around my waist and pulled my body close to him. The other broke my grip and in a moment, he’d hauled me onto the hood, hitching my legs over his hip.
    And just like that, my breath hitched and I was hot in places way too close to his chiselled body.
    I definitely hadn’t thought this through.
    In this light, Biscuit’s hair was dark as the night, his crystal blue eyes saturated with lust. He smelled like cologne and fresh spice. His muscles were tense and he reminded me of a caged animal.
    I felt the cold metal of his ring as he brushed my lips.
    “You told me you wanted a gentleman.” He said, his deep blue eyes darker than ever. “So I’ll give you one last chance to save yourself and find another one. Because we both know I’m not going to stop with one little peck on the lips.”
    I ran a hand through his hair, as he looked at me like I was the centre of his universe.
    “Stick to your playbook then.” I said, sounding bolder than I felt. “Shut up and don’t stop.”

    He didn’t bother being gentle.
    His kisses were hungry and passionate, raw in the wildest sense of the word. His fingers went straight for my shoulders, snapping the chains so the pearls fell to the pavement. His tongue skilfully made me forget everything but him, his hands tracing that low neckline with thinly veiled curiosity.
    My fingers tangled in his hair, as he got me hot, hungry and hurting. I was completely at his mercy, and in that moment, I needed him like the very breath he’d stolen from me.
    I knew then I was the only one who’d lost tonight.
    I’d lost my control, my soul, my very sanity to this adorable, infuriating son of a bîtch.
    As his lips left mine to kiss my neck, I whimpered in annoyance. He smiled in victory, nipping at my tender skin, leaving a mark.
    ” Mia.” He whispered in my ear. “Mia per sempre.”
    I took a deep breath. “What does that mean?”
    I needed to know.
    “You’re mine.” Biscuit said, simply. “You’ve always been mine.”
    I saw no point in protesting it anymore.
    In that moment, he’d created our own little world, he’d stopped time in it, and he’d started a miracle.
    If I didn’t believe in magic, I sure as hell did now.
    Biscuit suddenly let go of me, and I almost fell face first on the ground.
    What the actual fück?
    I was one good explanation away from punching him. I sat cross legged on the car, extremely pissed off.
    “After everything I put you through, that’s all you’ve got?” I was fuming. The saddest part of this being that I was still very much hot and bothered.
    Dear God, I was definitely going to hell . “Some game you talk, mister.”
    He wasn’t listening to me.
    “Do you hear that?” Biscuit asked me, looking around, his eyes sharp.
    And through my heated haze, I finally heard it. The rhythmic muffled beeping. It seemed to be coming from the car’s chassis. I jumped off the hood, looking underneath the car.
    Four glowing red digits stared back at me, counting down.
    00:27…00:26…00:25…
    Fück .
    “The car’s rigged. We need to get out of here.” I almost grabbed Biscuit’s hand. “Go on, do your disappearing gig.”
    Biscuit closed his eyes and I followed suit, expecting that now familiar choke-the-air-out-of-you sensation of travelling a thousand miles a second. When I opened them again, I expected to see the Taj Mahal or something.
    All I saw was a stunned Biscuit stranded in a car park, with a fücking bomb ten inches away.
    “I can’t.”
    The waiter, the wine, all of it came rushing back to me. And suddenly I knew why he seemed so familiar. Why I couldn’t possibly have recognised him.
    I’d never seen his face after all.
    The client.
    I couldn’t help but think about how I got here in the first place : stalking Biscuit in a waitress costume.
    I would’ve appreciated the irony. If I wasn’t scared of blowing up to bits, that is.
    “Run!”
    We didn’t have time, so we ducked behind the farthest car here, hitting the asphalt hard. The pearls on my back bit into my skin and my heels broke, but I didn’t care.
    For the first time, I knew there was a very real possibility we could both die tonight.
    The heat wave followed a blast of light and we were tossed away like paper dolls. I could feel the flames almost licking at my skin and the shards of glass piercing my arms.
    I closed my eyes, feeling Biscuit’s hand in mine, suddenly feeling sadder than I ever had.
    If that bästard dies after all this, I will fücking murder him.
    ***

    Victoria : “Every LIKE saves a life.”

    #1410334 Reply
    AvatarGrace
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    Hope you will survive this…nnext

    #1410364 Reply
    AvatarGoodBoy Jchrist
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    🔭 Episode 37

    💀Death and Wiskipedia

    ✍️Written by Jchrist (African Goodboy )

    ___________________________________________

    Xavier P. O. V

    Pain is good.
    Pain means you’re still alive.
    At least that’s what I kept telling myself.

    Fun fact : most Immortals hadn’t seen death all up in their business, but I had. Death didn’t bring you a bunch of roses, buy you a beer and carry you off to a hunky dory afterlife.

    Death hit you over the head, dragging away your pathetic soul kicking and screaming, while everyone you loved watched you leave this dust mote of a planet.
    At least that’s what happened to my mom.
    Yet being the dumbäss I was, it never hit me once that it could happen to me.
    Until today.
    For all I knew, Death was probably sipping a dry martini on a beach somewhere going, “Well, this is what you get for being a cocky bästard. Tick tock, motherfücker.”
    “Pardon me, but Azrael would never be so uncouth.”
    The voice in my head was familiar and instantly I was reminded of the last time I’d met this guy.
    He was older than time itself and had a fetish for breaking my bones.
    Israfel.
    I opened my eyes, trying not to scream. My body felt like a truck had run over it, and I could barely breathe without hurting something. Everything around me was reduced to rubble and ashes from the bomb’s explosion.
    Everything, except Victoria’s body floating overhead.
    Her eyes were rolled back, and she was barely breathing. That son of a bîtch Archangel was possessing her this time, breaking her wounded body further.
    I knew for a fact death would’ve been an upgrade to that.
    “I could always just ask Azrael to come and get you both, Xavier.” The Archangel said. ” Death is my brother, after all.”
    Let her go, Israfel. I thought, knowing he could hear me.
    “Oh, but I can’t do that.” He said, casually. ” How else would I talk to you, Prince Grigori?”
    Take a nice, long look at me. I thought. Do let me know if I look like I give a fück so I can try and change that.
    Victoria’s body twisted.
    “Disrespectful child.” He tsked, and I heard a bone break. ” If I were you, I’d shut up and listen.”
    I turned my head away, welcoming the pain. If I kept watching him play with her like a rag doll, I’d lose my mind.
    ” I owe you for setting me free .” The Archangel said, with a hint of annoyance. ” And I hate debts. So I traded your soul back from Azrael. With great difficulty, I must add.”
    I would’ve laughed if I could. So technically, I had died.
    Azrael was the Archangel of death, after all.With great difficulty? I thought. I bet he took one look at my soul and “Nah, you can have this one, bruh.”
    I heard a laugh.
    “Again, Azrael talks like he’s Shakespeare’s uncle.” Victoria’s body relaxed a little . “And I don’t know why you believe your soul is tarnished, child.”
    You’re kidding, right? I thought. Or didn’t you see me use magic to turn off a CFL?
    The Archangel scoffed .
    “Babysitting you, believe it or not, isn’t high on my priorities.”
    Why then are you saving my life? I asked him, honestly. And don’t give me all that “I owe you” bullshît. You broke out of that library yourself.
    Victoria’s body went perfectly still.
    “I’m saving your life because some lives are worth saving.” The Archangel paused, not saying anything further about that. “And why would you imbeciles imprison me in a library in the first place? Do I look a fücking Wikipedia to your kind?”
    Israfel was a proud ässhole, but he was the only proud ässhole who could see the past, the present and the future.
    Fair enough. He muttered, letting go of Victoria, so her body fell next to mine. ” Oh, and try not to use your soul to roast marshmallows next time, Prince Grigori.”
    I gave him a small twitch of my lips and he was gone.
    I coughed up blood, my throat feeling like sandpaper. All I wanted to do was collapse all over again.
    But I did my best to stay awake and examine Victoria.
    Her dress was almost entirely ripped and burnt, glass embedded in her skin, a pool of blood under her.
    I forced myself to move closer to her and physically that was pretty much the extent of my capabilities.
    Magically however?
    I noticed that the effects of the wine had worn off.
    Under whatever willpower I had left, her body rose in the air and began healing itself. The glass pieces fell out and her skin closed over her wounds. The blood returned to her body, through the vein she’d bled out of, leaving the dust behind.
    Eventually, she opened her eyes with a scream because forcing half a gallon of blood back into you couldn’t have felt amazing.
    I did my best to set her back on the ground gently. Going by the swearing, I probably didn’t do a good job.
    “Biscuit!” Her voice sounded very far away. “Biscuit! Please wake up!”
    As I closed my eyes again, I was sure I saw a bright light in the sky and a tsking in my head.
    I smiled.
    Tick tock, motherfücker.
    ***
    When I opened my eyes again, I was looking at myself lying on a bed, reflected in a ceiling mirror. I noticed I could cringe at the tackiness without feeling like I was in hell.
    Always a good sign.
    Kiera was sitting on the sofa, and in typical Kiera fashion, yelling at the screen watching F1 without noticing that I’d woken up.
    Victoria, on the other hand, was looking at me from the corner of the room like a ghost.
    I got off the bed, slowly stretching to test for pain.
    “How are you feeling?” She asked, quietly.
    “Good.” I said, hoping that would make her happy.
    I was clearly wrong.
    She stood up from her seat, taking long strides toward me.
    Her expression rivalled Medusa’s on a bad hair day.
    “You fücking idiot!” She yelled, trying to punch me. “You could’ve bloody well died! What in heaven’s name were you even thinking trying to heal me? You idiotic, miserable son of a bîtch…”
    It went on for a while. I dodged her jabs by instinct, not taking into account that I probably deserved it.
    Kiera looked at both of us, startled.
    “I-I think I’m going to go now -” She began to say.
    “Stay!” We both yelled.
    Kiera sat back down, almost in fear. “Aren’t you two glad you’re alive?”
    “Yes.” Still chorusing.
    “Then shouldn’t you sit down and discuss that like adults?”
    “Of course not.”
    Kiera sighed.
    Eventually, I let her punch me. Victoria looked at me in shock, as I rubbed my jaw and winced.
    “Shît. I-I didn’t really mean to. Does it hurt-”
    I laughed, pulling her into my arms and kissed her forehead. Victoria hit my chest, her voice shaky. “Idiot.”
    I ruffled her hair. “You punched me for saving your life and I’m the idiot?”
    “You’re always the idiot.” Kiera said from the sofa.
    “Shut up.”
    Always a good sign when you say it together.
    ***

    Xavier : “Every Like gets a lesson in magic.” XD

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