there is something under your skin.

ghulardi:

               “i know. like i said, i appreciate it.” tired, blue eyes shift away for a moment, his lips pursing together as he let’s his hands rest in his lap. he doesn’t want to say what is on his mind. how rudi could be seen as a father figure more than himself due to the fact that you never know what’s going to happen. you never know that when he dies, he’ll get cloned again. that korrok decides he wants nothing to do with him. you just never know when justin will stop coming back. “i hope so. that is until i’m brutally murdered or sucked into another dimension,” 

ghulardi:

               justin doesn’t necessarily have the best memory. that was for sure. perhaps it was because he’s been shot too many times, lost too many brain cells. it doesn’t really matter, though. what is done is done. he can tell he’s not himself. remembers marci describing him as pretty lively. “ya’, i guess.” a simple shrug of his shoulders. “i love her, too. obviously or i wouldn’t come back.” at this point, if he doesn’t come back? assume he’s dead for good. “so, you gonna---....you gonna make sure she’s okay whenever ‘m not around?”

soulrites:

              “well, i like your hair. i don’t think my hair would be good to have, though.” mainly because he’s a ginger but that’s against the point. he doesn’t want his daughter to get made fun of for having red hair or whatever. not everyone has a kink for it, marci. the bundle is placed in his arms and he’s quick to cradle her close to his chest, looking down at her before moving his hand so that blue could grasp at one of her fingers. “hey there, baby blue.” the words are cooed, soft. almost uncharacteristic. “god, please don’t tell her that story. then she’ll know daddy is a dick.” a scoff leaves him. “well, when do you wanna get married? ain’t you suppose to plan shit out? do you want a actual weddin’? with the cake ‘n the dresses?”

decreate:

                “do you know how incredibly misleadin’ you sound right now, yo?” his hands stuff themselves into the pockets of his basketball shorts, head tilting to the side which causes a stray curl to fall into his face. “i can’t help but feel like you think it’s funny that i’m a dad and that blue’s cute. like i couldn’t make a cute baby or somethin’,” 

mechaborn:

              “you see, my situation? you can totally throw away my body.” considering an exact clone of himself usually shows up later. do you know how awkward it is to try to steal your own body from the morgue? it’s really awkward. “better yet? burn it.”