Victor Creed

This is a mature themed, 18+, blog.

Your responsible for yourself, I'm not here to play by your rules. This is the only warning you get before moving on.

“Ya can’t convince me yer deep enough in yer cups ta start with the existential questions kid.” Creed voiced back with a mocking tone in his voice, making light of the question as if subjects like that held no thought in his mind. A scoffed escaped him as he shook his head slightly and raised his whiskey glass to his lips.

His lips lingered on the glass a second longer than usual, expression dropping, eyes looking distant. Then it was over, his glass dropping back to the bar, his usual cocky and confident expression replacing the nearly inscrutable expression of daydreamy wants and what ifs.

What if he could be free of the weight of guilt coming from the atrocities committed by his own hand? Would he do it? Could he do it? In his reality it seemed everyone just saw him as a monster. The father. The lover. The friend. The endless war hogs knocking at his door with offers to satiate the deep bloodlust constantly scratching at the back of his mind like a rapid animal so long as he played the part of pet. So he played the part everyone expected of him, and there’s no denying that he’s good at it.

Believe it or not, Creed had a hard time believing he could be something different in this what if world. The heavy thought that he’ll eventually disappoint someone, that he’ll eventually fail, haunted him.

Creed looked down at his hand curled around the cool delicate glass; deadly claws for nails, strength in each finger capable of slicing sinew and bone. That what if world jerking away from him with reality burning like fire. He was sure he’d be a monster in every what if world.

This is a really weird question, but how the hell do you get into your bodysuit. (The yellow and black/brown ones). From my knowledge, it’s just a very big bodysuit and for whatever odd reason, you don’t even have shoes on. It’s just a bodysuit. I’ve drawn you before, and every time I get an aneurysm trying to find out how you put your suit on.

Maybe there’s a zipper on it. I don’t know. Or maybe I’m just stupid.

Please explain how you change into that suit. Maybe then I could get a full 8 hour sleep.

Thank you.

(Or just ignore this. LMAO. I KNOW ITS A STUPID QUESTION BUT I MEED THIS EXPLAINED.)

Ah Romantic , the eating of eachother.

I think I need to go back to bed.