Doo-dee-doo. More crap from me, just what you always wanted.
Some stuff up top that might be ID material one day. And by that of course I mean the snorfblatterwaddlemelon. Just for you, Red. (:
Drunk Daubenmire. You have no idea. Watching an intoxicated shapeshifter makes you
feel like the one who's smashed. And yes, Morgan, we know you've been blessed with the power of flight, shut up.
That's Rebecca braiding Vra'kriss' hair for him, but you can't tell and whatever. Bah.
Eric wants to say thank you to *FroudTheXenophile
for reminding me that he exists. Looking back at my old drawings I realize I've been too nice in the past, he's the incarnation of gluttony, he's supposed
to be a fatass. I imagine that's why he looks so happy with me right now. He'll get over it.
Also, his three beloved doggies, Bacchus (Alaskan malamute), Wolver (golden retriever), and Morrigan (beagle). It's not entirely certain they're aware Eric's the same person in his monster shape but they certainly get excited during his shifts as it means Master can't sit in front of the glowing box all day (the computer, Eric's a freelance digital artist by trade and his big fluffy monster mitts kind of make working tedious) and long walkies in the park and all-out wrestling match dogpiles in the living room are eminent.
He'll be the first to say he looks pretty ridiculous out walking his dogs in monster shape, then, he looks pretty ridiculous out walking in monster shape. It pays to have a sense of humor when you've been cursed to eternity as a deadly sin.
Talking too much again.