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When Erik beds down in an alley that night, he reflects that at least he's not a poodle, a sheltie or some other completely inane or poofy breed of dog.
At least as a doberman he still gives off that air of danger that's clung to him all of his life; and if he smiles that manic smile, it's liable to be even more frightening than usual.
That this is a comforting thought says something about how far he's fallen.
~~~~~
Erik gets turned into a doberman.
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Bookmark Notes:
this is real 'dorbs
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Bookmark Notes:
archiveofourown.org/works/321579