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Daken Akihiro commissioned by @wheeljack. Thank you for commissioning me!

I had so much fun on this one and I love how it turns out.

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lineless dickroy

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So I was doing some research on Navajo stories, and Coyote scattering the stars really inspired me - Roy reminds me of a coyote, so it feels right. 👍

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LEWIS TAN

COBRA KAI Blood In Blood Out

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The Witcher wanted to get the last one. It irked him like a bruxa's claws against his skin that one was getting away. Maybe he was heartless. Maybe it wasn't a debate. He wanted to leave Alucard to get the last assailant. It wouldn't take long -- man versus witcher. He contemplated it for a moment as he stood at Alucard's feet, water dripping off his body and hitting the wooden floor boards. Lambert looked cold and ruthless and it wasn't just his gold eyes that revealed no emotion. He really WAS contemplating leaving Alucard to suffer. He wouldn't die after all.

It was something about how pitiful the dhampir sounded, how the two met, and maybe SOME sign of a moral compass that kept him there. He could clean the wound and flush it out with water but giving his blood?! Lambert scoffed loudly. If he didn't know better it seemed like a trick. Hiring a bunch of goons just to get a taste of witcher blood? It was ridiculous but Lambert was a cynic and still didn't think too highly of dhampirs. Crouched down to look at the halfing, Lambert snatched his wrist back with a cruel touch.

“Bold of you to assume I'd help you like that. You're NEEDY. ”

Why did Alucard seek his help in the first place? Lambert stood up and grabbed the pitcher of water from the basin in the room. He returned to Alucard's side and without any sort of gentility dumped the contents into Alucard's wound. The jug was surprisingly set aside with care. He then knelt and removed a small hunting knife from a leather holster at his hip meant for skinning smaller animals. A small incision was made along the bone of the wrist to allow blood to flow but not freely. Not near any veins. He didn't flinch when he cut himself. Didn't even blink. He wiped the knife and placed it in the sheath before he gripped Alucard's chin.

“ Tilt your head back. Enjoy. ”

Despite the COMMAND Alucard did it for him too, holding his back and in place. He hovered his wrist over the dhampir's head, not too close, and allowed blood droplets to fall down. Water came with it too but it was mostly dark red splotches in the dark hitting the back of Alucard's mouth, his teeth, and his lips. When he got bored, Lambert let go and stood up. He didn't give Alucard the chance to grab him or retaliate. Was it enough? Gold eyes watched for the verdict as he began carefully tending to his small incision.

Alucard took a step backwards and then another, pressing his hand to the wound and the same moment he felt a wave of both heat and bitter cold rush through his system. Not only was the blade made out of silver, it also had been poisoned, meant to render him immobile and the men closing in on him made their intentions clear: they were here to kill him and they would not show mercy. Panic was bubbling up in his throat as he fell to his knees, he could feel the poison spread through his body, making his limbs feel like they were made out of lead.

He looked to the side just as Lambert was making his escape through the window and for a moment his entire being was filled with dread. Had the witcher really abandoned him? Would he really let the hunters claim the dhampir’s head as their trophy? No. Even if there were no loyalty between them, Lambert was someone who would rather claim the bounty for himself instead of letting these three men have it.

But even though their conversations consisted of bickering most of the time, Lambert did not abandon him. Screams could be heard before a body fell to the ground hard, followed by the sound of steel clashing as Lambert fought off the intruders that remained outside, but there was still one man in the room with Alucard, and said man now approached his prey with a grin on his face. For a moment the dhampir only stared. Why was he suddenly overcome with fear? Why did he feel like he was at the mercy of someone who would never be merciful in the first place? The man had picked up the silver dagger and slowly approached, obviously reveling in the dhampir’s moment of weakness.

Seeing the cruel joy in the man’s eyes brought a memory back to Alucard. A memory of his father reminding him again and again that this was the true nature of humans, that they would kill Alucard when they had the chance, just like they had killed his mother. Humans would never feel compassion for a creature like him, they would rather kill him for some coin instead of trying to understand that he was a person that was stricken with grief but also capable of laughing and happiness, just like every other human.

Golden eyes glistened with contempt for his attacker and Alucard bared his fangs in a weak attempt to hiss, but in this state, he was not much of a threat to anyone, and the man standing before him knew that. When he pulled out a glistening silver sword from the sheath at his hip Alucard felt like a lamb cowering before a wolf. But there was only one wolf here, and it was not the man standing before him.

When Lambert called out for him the intruder froze for a second, as if he were not aware of Lambert’s presence, or like he had expected his companions to deal with him easily, but now that the witcher had returned the man fled through the same window Lambert had used to gain the upper hand in the fight. Yes, the witcher could have easily chased him down, but the thought of being alone in the room, being defenseless while there could be other assailants around, stirred another wave of fear in the dhampir.

“Lambert..”, he whispered, trying to gain the witcher’s attention to prevent him from leaving. In a way it was foolish to let one of them go, because he would most likely return with more men to pick up the fight again, or at least spread the word of where the dhampir had last been seen. There was no time for logic though if one’s mind was caught in agony. The poison would most likely not be lethal, he was half vampire, half human after all, but it still raged through his system, feeling like he was being burned with silver but from the inside.

The stench of blood was heavy in the air and it now clung to the witcher as well. Alucard sighed with both frustration and want. He shouldn’t have come here, he only brought trouble with him wherever he went, but he was very aware that Lambert had fought for him and defended him. Even though he didn’t have to. They came from two completely different worlds, they were basically two different species, but Lambert had killed for him and another foolish part of him found it almost endearing. To have someone as distant as Lambert go through the effort of saving him.

He weakly lifted a hand to beckon the witcher closer, and once Lambert kneeled next to him, Alucard almost gently wiped some blood off the other’s cheekbone. Yes, he was half vampire, but coming back from an injury, plus being poisoned like that would take time, time they did not have. And it would be painful. He needed to cleanse his body from within, replace the stained blood with something fresh, and as he could not feed on the corpses outside..

“Lambert. I need blood..”

Alucard’s movements were slow, not only because he was weakened, but also to give the witcher time to react when the dhampir took one of his hands in his own, fingertips slightly digging into his wrist where he could feel the other’s pulse beating rapidly. Carefully he lifted the gaze of his golden eyes to meet that of the witcher, asking for permission, while also hating himself for having to behave like a monster that would usually be put down by a witcher.

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Piers did not know what Chri-- his commander was thinking when he paired the two of them together. Rather it was more like Piers was assigned to Noah. More like? It was actually that. He was a soldier and soldiers did not question orders, yet when it came to Ch-- his commander, Piers did like looking between the lines even if it was blank. It was most likely blank. Noah was important, part of a mission, and nothing else. Although being a soldier meant protecting people (at least for Piers the two went hand-in-hand) and he had protect people more directly, being with Noah was different.

A little more... domestic and normal if he could remotely consider either. He was interesting and smart in a way which made Piers think. And in a case where he wasn't wielding a weapon or weaving through hostile streets he was given the time to ACTUALLY speak to a person. He knew there were voids in his life but these interactions really hammered in how secluded as his life. Social life was wrapped around work, and though he had never been ashamed or embarrassed it did make him feel flaccid around Noah.

Was that the real story behind Cinderella or was that an artistic and smart way of looking at it? The soldier said nothing but nodded weakly; he did not want to look like a complete idiot. He likely did. Diverting the conversation to what Piers knew made him feel better and he stopped second guessing his thoughts and lack of culture. He held up his tools for the eye to see more clearly.

“ You don't? ”

He wasn't trying to be rude and he knew wielding knives and tools wasn't exactly universal but it still surprised him. It wasn't a sexist thing. It was... what Piers knew, and sometimes he forgot not everyone grew up in a strict military family. He continued working but shifted his attention between Noah and his knife.

“ I can teach you. I can teach you anything you want. I've been doing this since I was around eight. ”

Growing up, he had whittled, tied knots, and started fires before he was given toys. Even when it came to toys it was not his father who gave him any. His mother had bought him puzzles and building sets, and it was other relatives who decided to treat the boy like the child he was. Piers' father didn't take a liking to any of that. Piers had a multitude of knives on him because just two meant he only had one. He pulled a smaller one with a blade of three inches and a lacquered wooden handle out from one of the side pockets of his pants and handed the folded knife to Noah.

“Yes, they're for you. I brought extra of everything just in case. Knives are tools. Not toys. Long as you don't mess around with them you have get used to the weight and how it feels in your hand. Different with gloves on but still useful. Bet you've never skinned an animal either. I can show you that too but only if you want.”

Blood. He had a rocky relationship with it, to say the least.

Before, he thought blood was a lifeline. With his blood, he could give his brother some time. With his blood, he could find a cure, save his sibling, make the world better... But that very same blood could easily symbolize destruction. His boss had taught him as much. He'd splatter blood like it was made to destroy, like it was nothing more than a tool to bring nothingness.

It made him shiver to think about it all. He himself had even fallen for the whims of that encompassing darkness the Monarch loved to summon. Blood... had been soiled and, watching it on something as pretty and seemingly pure as snow made him nauseous. Yet, he was fascinated by it, he continued to fixate on it, as if it were the trace of some god, and he had witnessed something holy and unexplainable.

"I was thinking more like... Cinderella or something. You know, a grounded story about reflecting your best form and becoming... mesmerizing, for a bit." No-ah states and immediately feels wrong about even thinking something like that. Was it clear that he felt subpar with how he spoke about the fairytale and the blood he couldn't erase from his memory?

Though his eyes are more entertained with the offered gloves that he quickly grabs them. He hadn't realized he'd been shifting and shaking to try and keep the cold away, despite the thick jacket and warm earmuffs he had on. He quickly puts the thicker gloves on and immediately feels some relief. The cold was going to kill him some day... Maybe, he'd turn pretty like blood on snow, then.

"Where'd you learn to... do that?" Piers was probably right, snow was better off pristine, but... "I'd like to try it out sometime, myself. Uh, using a hunting knife properly and all that." He blows cold air against his gloved hands now, rubbing them against each other. "Thanks, for these. They're really nice. ...They were for me, right?"

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@halfsovl 😏

Here a censored post of this two cuties lovers 🥴🫶🏻

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hi idk

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repost, since the next season of castlevania nocturen is around the corner <3

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Jason was the only person who could make Roy feel like a million bucks while making him feel like a teenager going through puberty again. Actually Oliver made him feel like that too, but Roy was scraping that out of his mind. Compliments always came with a clause, if that even was remotely a compliment. It was part of Jason's charm -- a sour patch kid was that sour and sweet... and tart and spicy, less on the sweet side truthfully. Roy had enough sweet to go around, and as long as his partner didn't get cavities from it, they were the perfect match.

Roy chuckled awkwardly. What was he supposed to say? That he was just looking to get laid and Jason was convenient. Not his type but here and available. Or Jason was totally his type, and it totally was not weird how much his platonic friend and work partner checked off al the boxes. OR was Roy to admit his feelings were more than platonic or sexually charged? All options seemed disastrous. And with Jason being somewhat of that sour and spicy enigma, the archer didn't know what to say. He looked like he was contemplating the universe.

“ So it was fine when Kori was part of the mix? ”

It almost made it seem like Jason tolerated Roy for the sake of the getting it with Kori. Roy subconsciously scratched his thigh. There it was again, feeling like he was six and being taught a lesson by his parent. Again Roy chose to ignore the obvious daddy issue implications. The red head leaned back and exhaled long.

“ If you don't want to, Jay, you can just say it. My precious male ego won't get bruised. If you need Kori here to spice things up then it's fine. Like I said, I'm down for it and I don't see the harm of releasing steam. Don't you... find me.... attractive? ”

He was being totally normal about this. Yeah, sure, maybe his ego and his heart would hurt a little if Jason said he was ugly. But they were both adults. A rejection wouldn't shatter what they worked so hard to build.

𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃. Christ, he's thinkin' about it. Jason really, really did not like to blur these lines. Especially with people he's close to. Especially the ones he's regulars with. "Roy, you're lucky I like you. I’m trying—trying—not to laugh right now, because that’s a hell of a sales pitch for your hypothetical obituary. ‘Started bricked, ended with empty balls.’ You’re a poet." Hell, he might might be the only guy who could make that sound remotely endearing. Not just a less than curt little way to say 'lemme grab your cock, bud.'

He lets out a sharp exhale, trying to smother the grin threatening to break past his scowl. Jason’s hand is still in Roy’s, the grip firm, but it’s his eyes that betray him—flashing a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. He finally meets Roy’s gaze, green and earnest, and it’s like looking at a living dare. Classic Roy. Push and pull, fire and sarcasm, and more honesty than anyone asked for. It drives Jason insane. And yet… it’s always grounding in its own chaotic way.

"What do we have to lose? That’s your whole argument? Really? Roy, —how many cliffs are we jumping off of today? 'Cause I already fell off the friendship one with you a long time ago when we let it get murky in the dark with an alien princess." He is pretty sure they've made out, several times, mainly with Kori involved, but.. "Whatever this is you're angling for? That's a whole canyon. And I'm not sure I’ve got the parachute packed for it, man."

Jason pulls his hand back, running it through his hair, which is already a mess from the earlier helmet toss. He pauses, then leans forward, narrowing his eyes at Roy, voice low but softer now.

"You sure about this? Like… actually sure? If you just wanna get your rocks off and I'm the closest guy, you can say it, Roy. Don't have to do me any favors either. Unless this is the most ill-timed confession ever, then... you suck." That does make 'em smirk though.

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For the first time in his life, Megumi felt as if he was fighting alone. Of course that wasn't the actual truth. Oddly enough he had felt that sinking, overwhelming feeling of being alone and standing on the edge of death when fighting what it turned out to be his father, then when summoning mahoraga to defeat a blond twink curse user. It had all boiled down to everyone fighting for their lives. He wasn't alone in that aspect, but it was his first time being completely independent and in serious danger without his mentor.

The boy didn't want to be alone and wanted to fill the void in his heart... ironically by the very same man who had carved out the void in the first place. Would Satoru mock him? Would Satoru be disappointed? He wasn't even fighting Sukuna when he summoned mahoraga and he wished to do it again. Being a jujutsu sorcerer wasn't just about strength or luck. It was about wits. It was other people who brought out the best in him however. Megumi wiped away the blood and sweat and breathed in deep.

He looked left and right. Another deep breath. Max elephant bolted away from the curse user and that brief moment of confusion gave Megumi the advantage to lunge. Megumi wasn't looking to get a cheap strike in although he would've taken it. The boy and the curse user met each other hit for hit while max elephant blasted wave after wave of water out of its trunk to shatter all the windows in the neighboring buildings. With the sound of glass shattering the curse user halted and jerked his head around.

It was enough of an opportunity for Megumi to land a kick to his head. Water, also reflective, sloshed around the street as max elephant ran towards the opposite side of the street to smash those windows too. The curse user looked like he was about to use the water to his advantage, but then there was the swooshing sound of air and Toji's behemoth body appeared. Megumi's green eyes, exact replicas of his father's, widened with surprise. The feeling of loneliness disappeared. His father was HERE. The elephant shikigami shook the ground and made a racket as it began smashing more windows from buildings to those of parked cars.

The curse user snorted derisively. Dark eyes darted between father and son repeatedly, then to max elephant, and the curse user was gone. The larger windows were shattered, the smaller shards swept away by the water, but the curse user jumped his reflection into the last bit of water as it and he swirled into the drainage of the sewer. Megumi jumped forward to do something. Anything. Then he stopped. Max elephant returned to the shadows and Megumi turned to look at his father. He didn't drop his guard but all was quiet. Eerily quiet for such a busy part of Tokyo. His father was stained with blood.

“ Thank you... ”

For coming to protect me. For not leaving me.

Toji meant to follow after Megumi immediately, but from above, a massive, beast-like curse came hurtling down from several stories up. It slammed into the ground where he had stood mere seconds ago, the impact shattering the pavement. Toji easily dodged its attacks, though, for something so large, it was surprisingly fast. And worse... it wasn’t alone. It had brought friends. He snorted, unfazed, before launching himself forward without hesitation, meeting their attacks head-on. The curses were relentless, but Toji was faster—more ruthless. Steel flashed, blood sprayed, and one by one, they fell. It didn’t take long. But it took long enough. Megumi was gone. Toji cursed under his breath, sharp eyes scanning his surroundings before taking off down the street in search of his son.

A low, guttural snarl cut through the night. A dog. His pulse quickened. One of Megumi’s shikigami? He sprinted toward the sound, weaving through the wreckage. Then in the distance, he caught a glimpse of spiky dark hair. His grip on the sword Megumi gave him tightened. But his gaze hardened when he saw it. A curse user had appeared behind Megumi, moving with predatory intent. Toji didn’t think he just reacted. A snarl tore from his throat as he lunged, his speed nearly inhuman. But before he could reach Megumi, the crackling hum of cursed electricity sliced through the air.

Another curse user. Toji barely had time to dodge as a wave of lightning surged toward him, the charged energy splitting the air with a deafening crack. He skidded to a stop, eyes narrowing. This one wielded an electricity-based cursed technique. Not good. Not with all the puddles around. The attacker rushed in, and Toji sidestepped at the last second, eyes widening slightly. Fast. Faster than expected. That made sense, someone wielding lightning would be quick. But speed alone wasn’t enough. He stole a glance at Megumi—just for a second. His son was holding his own. Good. But they needed to get the hell out of here. First, he had to take this bastard down.

Then he moved. A blur of motion—Toji vaulted off the ground, closing the distance in an instant. The curse user barely had time to react before Toji was already mid-air, a black shadow against the lightning-streaked sky. Fast. The enemy swung their blade, crackling with cursed electricity, a deadly arc meant to bisect Toji in one stroke. Toji twisted mid-air, his body bending unnaturally to avoid the strike by mere inches.

The blade slashed past, raw voltage erupting like a thunderclap, blasting apart the building behind him. But Toji had already calculated his next move. He landed against the broken wall, feet gripping the crumbling surface then pushed off instantly, using the momentum to launch himself back at his opponent. The clash of steel and electricity sent shockwaves through the battlefield, the air thick with heat and static.

But the bastard was smart. He had coated the ground in cursed lightning, turning the terrain into a death trap. The moment Toji’s foot made contact, a bolt surged up his leg, locking his muscles for a split second. A split second was all the curse user needed. Lightning-fast, he struck his palm slamming into Toji’s chest, unleashing a devastating pulse of cursed thunder. Toji was sent flying. His body convulsed from the voltage, crashing through the rubble before skidding to a stop. Smoke curled from his skin, his breath shallow. For a moment, the battlefield was silent. Then Toji stood up. Slowly. Methodically. His head lifted, and his empty, predator-like eyes locked onto his opponent. No sign of pain. No hesitation. Just cold, murderous intent.

The curse user’s smirk faltered. Before they could react, Toji vanished—no sound, no warning. Then he was behind them. The blade plunged deep, straight through their gut. They gasped, blood spilling from their lips as the sword plunged deeper into them. They struggled, a final spark flickering at their fingertips, but it was useless. Their power was gone. Toji twisted the blade, a strangled cry, a violent spasm, then silence. The body crumpled to the ground, lifeless. Toji didn’t spare it a second glance. Only one thing mattered now. Megumi.

He took off, sprinting toward his son, where he seemed to still be battling the other curse user. Just as they are about to lunge toward Megumi, Toji appears in front of his son, making the curse user stop in his tracks.

“I’m about to teach him how to kill useless bastards like you.” Toji smirks wickedly.

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That boy never minded his own business a day in his goddamn life.

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I FINALLY get the chance to relax and reply to long overdue drafts, which I will get to in order of oldest to newest. Honestly hoping to knock everything out by the end of the weekend.

aaaand if new follows want a meme or three, give me a nice lil poke. I usually send out unprompted memes if our muses are of the same canon or at least share a verse, buuut if I have no idea who you're interested in I usually wait till you make the first move.

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ARCHIE RENAUX as Tyler Harrison ALIEN: ROMULUS (2024) dir. Fede Álvarez

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The mood was an entanglement of mistrust and awkwardness after an uncouth feeding. It wasn't the first for Olrox who had slipped away, or tried to, after having spent the early parts of a night with a stranger. There were those who understood that one night was one night, and then there were those who looked crestfallen as Olrox dressed like it was a matter of life or death.

This exact situation wasn't specifically like any other. No one had fed on Olrox without his consent, and he had never stayed in a dhampir's decrepit castle. Yet the atmosphere of each party trying to decipher the other was relevant. His gaze remained forward and he made no attempt to lighten the mood. It was what it was. He was deeply curious and interested in the dhampir.

Truthfully it was a unique thing being curious in someone or something without the element of manipulation being involved. Being indebted was also foreign and left a bitter taste in his mouth. Only when he was introduced to the guest room did he break the spell of silence. With that unwavering, soul piercing gaze, Olrox surveyed the room and all the dust therein.

“ It will do. Thank you. ”

Even if he only intended to be there for a few days he would clean up the place. Olrox had no intentions of staying for long but there was the urge to make the room more like... home. It truly was amazing how the dhampir inhabited the castle all by himself. Olrox doubted it but the signs of abandonment were obvious. There were no smells of other vampires or humans except for the obvious ones of blood and death. Olrox quickly turned to look at Alucard but held in his thoughts. He didn't like the idea of Alucard doing work for him.

Surely it was a ploy to look through his belongings. Well look all he wanted -- Olrox had nothing to hide. Nothing of true value was brought on this trip. And the only real valuable things he had in his possession were kept in a secrete place. Olrox was vain. He valued his comfort and his comfort meant expensive, tailored clothing and shoes. Was it a test for Alucard? Allowing the dhampir to help him would be Olrox's test. His silky black hair wiped around as he faced away from the vulnerable creature.

“ I appreciate it, Alucard. ”

He didn't even wait for Alucard to depart fully before he was stripping himself of what little clothes he had on. He opened his grandiose chest and dressed himself like he was attending a ball from shoes to knickers to handkerchief. All in hues of cream, gold, and black. He got to opening the closet, the windows, and dusting the bed.

It was strange thing to think about. All vampires usually did was scheme and plot to get to the top of the food chain or at least win the favour of the one that was currently on top, Olrox had to have a plan or expectations when he came here. Yes, he had wanted to see the infamous castle, but to see it damaged and deserted must have been a real disappointment. And now? This ancient and beautiful vampire was content to just stay and explore a little? With no ulterior motives? Alucard found that hard to believe. He doubted that anyone could withstand the temptation that was Dracula’s castle and the Belmont Keep, not even a vampire. There were so many secrets to discover and he just experienced firsthand the corruption the hunger for knowledge could bring, but an experienced vampire wouldn’t desire knowledge the same way two defenseless humans would. Right?

Alucard sighed but then simply shrugged his shoulders as he let Olrox pass. His golden eyes rested on the trunk the other vampire was carrying, it was massive and he held it with two hands, but he still made it look like it was nothing more but a mere parcel. The dhampir himself was still holding the two tree trunks he had collected but he quickly discarded them at the entrance of the castle before he held open the doors for Olrox to enter the castle once more.

“This way. The main bedrooms are on the third floor.”

He was already thinking which bedroom to give to his guest, probably a bigger one with a nice view, though there was not much to see in the near proximity. Once they had reached the third floor Alucard led Olrox down the long corridor, but the moment they passed his own bedroom the dhampir almost froze in his tracks. Even though the door was closed the stench of blood was almost overwhelming. It had not been a day yet since he had murdered the twins in that very room and the blood was not yet dry, there was no chance Olrox did not smell the scent of Alucard’s crime, yet the dhampir remained silent as they passed his room, he just rushed past to lead Olrox to one room at couple of doors down.

It was a rather big bedroom with a king size bed, a huge bookshelf taking up a whole wall, there was a desk sitting in one corner, a rather big closet (though Alucard wondered if it would be able to hold the possessions of two trunks) and a tall window that led to a balcony outside.

“How do you like this room?”, Alucard asked casually as he watched Olrox place his trunk on the ground, but before he had a chance to answer the dhampir was already retreating, almost as if he were fleeing.

“I will go get your other one, you can start unpacking already.”

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Freak-of-nature. Abomination. Weirdo. Those are the words best fitting to describe the supernatural monsters but he had often heard them on the lips of others when they encountered him. There were some who simply thought he was edgy and willingly wore contact lenses to make him look different. That was... well, it was fucking hilarious. Did he look like an eighteen year old going to a metal concert? Did they think the various scars on his face were fake too? The modern world was weird. Werewolves were playing make believe with weak-minded humans.

At least one werewolf was. And, to his credit, he wasn't puffing his chest or barring his teeth with macho bravado. He couldn't POSSIBLY know what Lambert was yet his heart rate increased, his pupils dilated, and there was the stuttering of the words. Didn't plan on getting caught had he, or was it that a freak was put off another freak? It was enough to make Lambert chuckle dryly and that was truly an ugly sight. The amusement didn't reach his eyes. In fact, no emotion reached gold eyes. He scratched the scar running down his right cheek as he listened with abnormal patience.

“ Homeless across the pond, aye. ”

Lambert mocked with a fake accent. It was shitty though it wasn't like he was actually trying. It was just his way of being abrasive. He stepped closer towards the wolf. Even though the witcher wasn't particularly tall he definitely carried an air of dominance and DANGER. He didn't need all the hidden weapons on his person to be formidable, and that put an extra edge of death to his aura.

“ What are they, easy meals or easy targets when you inevitable SHIFT. Alright, listen up, pup, there's a mangy wolf killing people and its trail lead me to YOU. Gonna keep stuttering, bloke? ”

Gabriel continued to move away from the stranger who continued to close in on him. He didn't like it, not one bit. Still, there were no notable weapons, no pitch forks, knives or guns, so the fear remains simply, just fear. Typically Gabriel didn't pay any attention to people who made wild theories about monsters or calling him a werewolf. They weren't real, at least, to the masses they weren't, and this unwanted company was no different, but they carried a strong air of confidence, menacing. Like an alpha of a pack, and the ex-drifter wasn't typically a coward, he'd endured a lot to make it where he is, but something about this man, was different.

Gabriel had slightly more knowledge of the way his disease impacted him, but he was by no stretch of the word 'in control'. He knew some triggers, was still learning. He couldn't smell people the way others who were fully adapted could, he couldn't smell humanity to monster. Smells were just.. stronger in general, and that's where it stopped.

Still, despite his inability to know just who or what was following him, the gold eyes halted Gabriel so hard he nearly tripped over himself. He froze. "I-! uh!! wha- now hold on, wha-what you-! L-look.. mister uhm.. guy." Instinctively he freezes. Gabriel didn't know why, golden hues, cat-like or not weren't necessarily frightening as much as they were surprising, but his visceral reaction told him to stop, and obey. Told him this was an alpha male. In pack dynamics alphas were leaders, and as an unknowing omega Were, he nearly.. trembled where he stood.

"N-now, let's.. let's say.. uh.." Naturally his eye contact wavered greatly, direct contact was threatening, as much as it was challenging, and he wasn't about to challenge anything. "You know maybe, but what's the uh, you know the big idea here? I'm just a homeless b-bloke like many others in our community just trying to make it in life. What's your problem anyway? Why would you do that for? whatta'ya want from me aye?"