Not in a Happy Place (Justin)

[ARIANNA "NIXIE" SYMPHONIA]

Angrily, Nixie chucked another damn positive pregnancy test into the sink and then considered slamming her head into the mirror. FUCK she cursed mentally before slamming her hands down on the sink again and making everything around her rattle and shake, some things that were too loose even falling to the floor. She growled and ignored it, she even ignored Marco asking if she was alright in the other room from just outside the door. He should know better. She was as far from fucking alright as a person could possibly get right then. She wanted to scream and kick something. This wasn’t okay.

Her.

Pregnant.

This wasn’t right.

But an actual doctor and not one, not two, but six pregnancy tests all saying positive (except for one rogue test that had said negative and prompted Nixie buying two more to test) couldn’t be wrong. She had finally gone to the doctor in order to find out why she was feeling so damn sick all the time, and now she knew without a shadow of the doubt. It had been morning sickness. Fucking morning sickness from being fucking pregnant. She growled again, unable to help it and debated breaking something. But she had to be fucking careful now.

And to top it all off, the doctor said she couldn’t fucking paint while she was pregnant. Fuck that. She had expressed her, er, disappointment with that in a very violent and expletive manner until Maro had had to come in to see what was upsetting her and then calm her down. He had had to talk to the doc after that and explain that she would probably throw herself out of one of the floor to ceiling wall of windows that she had in her 28th floor apartment if she couldn’t paint. SO he had said it would be alright if she painted as long as it was with certain paints in a well ventilated room. Or if she just stuck to other mediums of art.

Fuck that.

She debated just inhaling her paint to cause her to miscarry. There was no way that Nixie could possibly be a fucking mother. That was the worse idea that she had ever heard in her life. That was like giving a loaded gun to a chimp and sending him into a mall or something fucked up like that.

It turned out that Nixie was nearly two months into this pregnancy, and hadn’t even known it. The doc said that she probably wouldn’t show much if she hadn’t already, and the baby probably wouldn’t be a huge one because of that. Worked for fucking her. She had counted it back and realized it fucking matched with when she had slept with Justin, her match. Which meant that she couldn’t keep ignoring him. He was now the father of their damn child and she had to see him so that she could debate about killing him. Or call Riv over to help her do the job. Fuck she had to tell Riv too.

Dammit, this all sucked fucking bullshit,

Come to my apartment, I need to talk to you. The man behind the desk will let you up

That was all the text message that Nixie sent to Justin said.

Then she moved to change and get dressed out of her pajamas because she was not going to look like a fucking mess in pajamas and her hair all messy on top of telling him that she was pregnant with his damn child. That was not how this was going to fucking work. She would be damned if she let herself look that weak in front of anyone else. She would never allow that to happen. She was Arianna Symphonia, better known as Nixie, the daughter of a wealthy politician, Poseidon’s member of the Council that ruled the continent they lived in, and she had the attitude to back it all up. There was no way in hell she would ever let herself be seen as weak.

That was why she had stopped talking to Justin after all, except for wayward texts here or there to make him think she was just busy and not avoiding him. She didn’t want to be weak. And he was her match. They were supposed to be together, right? He was supposed to be with her. She was supposed to let him in. And letting someone else in made you weak. And that was what she couldn’t allow herself to be. Though being pregnant kind of undermined that, didn’t it. Fuck. She didn’t want ot be fucking pregnant.

She kicked her bedroom door open after storming past Marco who did not just roll his eyes at her. Fucking bastard. She glared at him for that and then slammed her door closed again behind her. Nixie was not in a happy place.

She changed into an outfit that made her happy. She rarely spoiled herself, but she had with this one. It was done in the style of a traditional Priestess’s garb, and in blue and gold to represent Poseidon. She rarely wore it because the gauzy material became see-through when she shifted in certain ways and was in certain lights—and she never bothered with under things when it came to this dress, it simply didn’t work with it. It draped and wrapped artfully around her and made her feel ethereal and light and every bit the representative of her god that she was supposed to be. It calmed her slightly. Also the draping hid her slight baby bump that she fucking hated from view.

And with that, she was good to relax a little until Justin showed up. She ran a brush through her long dark hair but other than that left it down and unadorned and left her feet bare. It calmed her further, which was good because she needed to be sort of rational at least to talk to Justin about this crap that he had put her through, however unintentional she was blaming him.

She told Marco, as she passed him, to let Justin know where she was, and then quietly slipped into a room that was almost hidden from view. Her different types of paints and pencils and charcoal lined the walls in shelves and a few different types of easels leaned against another. Another wall of windows was on the far side, and she pushed one open, rolling her eyes at the need for proper ventilation.

She didn’t care that she was supposed to be careful, she could handle her own art supplies and didn’t think twice about lifting an easel from the corner, placing a canvas on it, and then starting to pull out the paints from the shelves, making sure to stick to the right types of paint for all that she had bitched about wanting to inhale the wrong kinds on purpose earlier. She shook her head with a small frown. No, she was in her to relax before she took off the boy’s head. This was her room. There was even a lock on the door so she could lock herself in if she needed to because Marco had also outfitted it as a panic room so he knew she was safe there on her own.

All set up, she folded herself onto the stool that sat before her easel and got to work, banishing her thoughts of killing others and dancing in their blood as she started to outline the painting in her head.

Words: 1325
Muse: Epicccc I can't wait haha
Comments: Marco is probably just going to point to Nixie's room and tell him good luck when he enters btw

[JUSTIN ALEXANDER FLYTE]

Justin Flyte


Hasn’t anybody told you to sit back and breathe?
You can’t be living life like a loaded gun,
Sing out, sing out,
Things can only get better!

.xXx.

[/color] Justin gave a satisfied, relieved sigh as he flipped a used towel over his shoulder, lightly clapping his hands against one another as he exited the kitchen. The dishes were done, the diner closed, and he was pretty much about free to go. The thought caused a small smile to grace his lips as he approached the counter, throwing the little towel into a smaller basket of dirtied towels and napkins, before slipping on his apron (yes, he wore an apron; no, he was not ashamed) over his head and dropping to hang limply on one of the many hangers lining the smaller wall. He glanced towards the clock, noting the fact it was eight minutes before he was supposed to get off, before peeking into the main dining room with a prodding glance, only to note the fact there was not a soul in the place. He nodded briefly, more in a hopeful thought that he may be able to escape a few minutes early, before collecting his tips, and strolling into the smaller room in which the manager stood, putting a few pans and such away.

“Mind if I head out early?”

He asked easily, his tone-of-voice particularly light, as though he was striking up easy conversation on the street. His boss, after sending him a critical glance and quirking a suggestive brow at his lack of an apron, nodded silently, in which Justin responded to with a large, thankful grin, before heading out the doors without any further delay. He paid no attention as they closed almost noiselessly behind him and instead cast his attention towards his vehicle, as well as the city going ons around him. It was a quieter evening, though not that Justin minded, and he inhaled the fresh air deeply, unable to help himself, especially with the fact he’d been indoors, smelling food all day long. It was a rather good scent when one was in the diner for two hours, tops, but after then, it started to grind at Justin’s nerves. It was just as he opened the door to his vehicle that he pulled out his phone and checked his texts, only to pause, seeing Nixie’s name pop up. He paused, one leg in the car, one leg firmly planted on the ground beneath him, and opened up the message.

Come to my apartment, I need to talk to you. The man behind the desk will let you in.

Justin stared at the message, his forehead creasing with concern as he re-read it once, twice, three times. That didn’t sound very good, did it? The man shifted to sit into his car, though given the fact he was still staring blatantly at his phone caused him to hit his head on the roof of the car with a little muttered grunt. He brought his eyes away from the phone to glare at the place where he’d hit his head in a very offended matter, only before sliding into the seat, and pulling the door closed behind him. He glanced to his phone once again as he slipped his keys into the ignition, before flipping open his keyboard and typing a quick reply. Be there as soon as I can. And after a moment he pressed send, before tossing his phone onto the seat beside him, backing up, and pressing the gas with much more force than needed. He was on a mission, now.

But, what did the text mean?
Was she going to tell him to get out of her life?
More abuse, perhaps?
Or, just maybe, Justin would luck out and get a little funtime?

He smirked slightly at the thought, though only momentarily, soon realizing that wasn’t a likely option. Any form of “we need to talk,” coming from a girl is usually bad news, and Justin knew it. He might as well try and make himself feel better though, right? He would admit, there was one good thing coming out of this whole ominous text situation. He was happy to see her. Whether she liked it or not, he was excited to see her again. Not because he was any sort of dog looking to get some, because he genuinely enjoyed her company. Was that so terrible? She was his match after all, right? It had to be normal. Justin’s brow furrowed once again, lips pursing into a thin line, as he sped towards his residence, doubt relentlessly beginning to cloud his thoughts.

And, a good twenty-minutes minutes later, after a good amount of self-confidence boosting, he was pulling up to where Nixie lived.

He’d taken only a few mere moments to change; a fitted black t-shirt (because a button-up had been far too much hassle last time) partnered with a pair of dark blue, denim jeans. He stepped out of his vehicle slowly, slipping both hands into his pockets after his car was locked, a nervous gesture of his, as he cast a wary glance towards the rather intimidating-looking building before him. It hadn’t seemed to large and forbidding when he’d left a few months back, but now, as soon as he was a wee bit insecure about what would happen once he entered, it had all changed. Justin exhaled deeply, nodding to himself, before walking towards the entrance. Time to suck it up, and be a man.


Justin entered the apartment complex casually, slipping a hand out of his pocket to only open the doors before him, hesitating in order to let the person behind him pass on through, as well. He gave a quick glance around, unsure of where exactly to go, before heading towards the elevator Nixie had pulled him towards, and glancing with a rather confused expression towards the man at the front. He was supposed to help him, right? The ma, seeing Justin’s expression, walked on over, tilting his head. “Justin?” He asked quietly, in which Justin nodded, watching as the elderly man moved to unlock the button that led up to Nixie’s room. He gave the man a small, appreciative smile before pressing the button and giving a brief wave before the doors closed, and he felt the machine begin moving upwards. His stomach churned on the way up, obviously from his nerves, and when the doors finally opened at the top, Marco was there to greet Justin with a silent nod, and unlock the final lock to let him in. “Good luck.” The man muttered as Justin kicked off his shoes, only before slipping out, leaving Justin standing there, lips parted in doubt.

Shit, he was in for it.


“Nixie?”

[/color]


Justin called out softly, his voice somewhat careful; concerned. He peeked around one corner, into the bedroom, and saw nothing, so instead walked over to the other side of the massive room, and turned the corner to see a room full of painting and art supplies of all sorts. Both brows shot up at the large display of working utensils as Justin leaned nonchalantly against the doorway, his eyes flitting towards Nixie, and where she sat before a canvas.

“Hey... Everything alright?”

His voice was, once again, full of concern and tender prodding, as though not wanting to make her upset, but not too scared of the situation. He could only hope for the best.

We’re bound to make a change,
Take some time to hold somebody!
Leat go of fear and all your heartache,
Learn to laugh, and learn to cry!

Words: 1, 295
Muse: Bleh
Notes: SO STOKED FOR THIS THREAD. Hope this is okay? I have a sneaking feeling that it fails. [/blockquote][/size]

[ARIANNA "NIXIE" SYMPHONIA]

Nixie tried to ignore the obvious anger that was seeping slowly into her painting. She was angry, yes, she figured that she had every right to be. She didn’t ever want to have kids, and here she was, pregnant. She didn’t think that she would ever be a fit mother, honestly. There was no way that could be possible. Just look at her own mother, obviously being a mother was not in her gene pool. She would be lucky if the kid didn’t hate her for being distant and detached. Because being a mother involved caring about your kid. And Nixie could never bring herself to do that.

It sounded horrible but it was true. Nixie had trouble letting others into her life. She found herself to be too much of a solitary person for that. I mean, take the example of her match. He was supposed to be her soul mate and all that, the person who was going to be with her for the rest of her life, the one she was stuck with because sleeping with any others would make her feel sick. And she had ignored hers for a good two or more months. Because he was nice.

She frowned, her brush pausing. She was so horrible. But that was just the way that she was. Was it her fault that he hadn’t noticed that she was entirely ignoring him? She didn’t think so. That was his own fault or something like that. She was good at putting the blame that should be on herself on someone else when she had to.

Besides, it was all his fault that she was pregnant.

She scowled slightly. One time. One time and this happened. They had only done this once. That was it, she was never having sex with him again. She frowned at that idea. No. No. She liked sex too much for that to be a rule, and she couldn’t really have it with anyone else. SO sex was not going to be ruled out. They just had to actually remember to use protection or something like that. She couldn’t believe this had happened after one time. Was it because he was her match? Or was it because Poseidon had a sick sense of humor and though because he had a million children, she should to? He did realize that she was female and had to actually carry the child, right?

Oh damn, she would have to go to Council meetings like this. Fuck. She really did not want any of this.

She scowled and forced those thoughts to the back of her head. She was having issues keeping herself calm. She made her brush start moving again and focused entirely on that now instead of her swirling and angry thoughts about this whole situation. He was taking too long, it was letting her think too much, where was he? Wasn’t she clear that she had needed to talk to him?

She frowned.

Either this was her own anger.

Or she was starting to have mood swings.

Fuck.

She shook her head and turned back to her painting again, focusing on using cool blues now instead of the reds of before, hoping that the cool color would do her more good that the warm color had been. Maybe it would be calming enough to make her stop this odd mental tangent she was having, though she highly doubted it. She hadn’t been able to stop it for a while now, even with her painting. A cool breeze wafted in from the window in front of her and ruffled through her fabric, and she took another calming breath as it did so, hoping that this little calm would stay.

It was a lost cause really. She went back to drawing the scene that she saw outside her window, the odd little sky line that was barely seen out of her very high window from the angle that she was at. It was an amusing thing to paint it in the colors that it wasn’t actually in reality. It was her own little way of distorting reality and it calmed her. It made her think that if she could distort this reality, than maybe she could distort the real one as well, and make herself not pregnant or something. She knew that it was entirely impossible, but it calmed her for that small moment.

And then she heard Justin call out. And frowned all over again.

She was going to kick him in the shins so bad. Or maybe somewhere else. That might help them not have anymore kids, right? But that would make sex less fun. She frowned. No, she would settle for just the shins, and keep the other parts in tact because she decided that she wanted those in tact.

Oh fuck she was mood swinging again.

She growled and fisted her hands for a moment, clenching around her paintbrush, which she was carefully keeping away from her very expensive dress that she was only wearing because it made her feel relaxed and pretty. She shook her head and put down her brush on the edge of the easel where the little outcropping was made to hold her paints and utensils. And she closed her eyes. He was coming in here. She still had no idea how to tell him what was going on.

How would he react?

She frowned when he called out all concerned and asking if she was okay. All caring. Jeez. There he went, being caring again. She wasn’t sure how to handle that. Someone being nice to her. It seemed like such a foreign concept. She frowned a little again and then shook her head, and stood, the dress falling and swaying around her artfully. Dimly she wondered if the light in here made it see through but she didn’t care enough. He had seen it all before, so why should she worry about that. Obviously he had seen it all before. That was how she was fucking pregnant.

She shook her head. Was she okay? Not at all. Was everything okay? Nope to that as well. She frowned a little. She wasn’t good at saying that out loud. She wasn’t good at admitting that she was anything less than perfect. Being less that that was admitting that you were weak. And she couldn’t ever afford to be weak. She hadn’t been able to afford that ever. She didn’t like where her thoughts were going though so she looked up, meeting his blue eyes with her own steadily.

”No, things aren’t okay. That’s why I asked you here to talk.” she said with a little frown, not sure how she managed to get herself to say that out loud. ”I got some news the other day…” she said and then she stopped, a little frown playing on he rlips. She wasn’t sure how to tell him…


Words: 1190
Muse: Epic
Comments: Haha Me too