#vinter speaks

[sirvinter]

finally back to inquisition in my most recent trilogy replay, here are some screenshots of Anaan-asala from my last go at it 🖤

[saltyfilmmajor]

It always throws me off so much that in Rogue Nation, Ethan initally tries to send Ilsa away “before it gets too ugly.” like she wasn’t about to try and break him herself

[vinyls-corner]

About OgPenelope and Vinter meeting, I have some thoughts.

Imagine it would be a very slow burn thing with them. With OG Penelope being wary and distrustfull of him at first due to Eckhart's treatment of her.

Meanwhile, depending on what kind of meeting they have, Vinter would have different reactions. I could easily see Vinter noticing her sadness, and having a scene similar to the story where he tries to comfort her, although she would likely refuse him.

I keep imagining he still trying in gentle ways to look after her, and OG Penelope having a sweet scene where she gets to be happy watching the magic bunnies. Consider a sweet scene where Penelope looks in wonder over magic, one that resembles fireworks, one that doesnt hurt her, and Vinter feels touched over her love for magic and happiness around it.

Another idea, would be they both looking or trying to aid orphans, as Penelope, who had been in their place before, would likely advocate for them as well.

Some ideas, feel free to disagree with them though.

I apologize for the late response

I see them having a slow burn due to many reasons, one of which is lack of trust as you mentioned. Penelope will find it difficult to open up to Winter because of her unpleasant experience in the duchy, Winter who notice this will patiently wait for her to open up because he's afraid that he will scare her away.

It is also possible that Winter has a bad impression of Penelope because of her bad reputation and her attitude but as they get to know each other better, Winter will see her in a different light and maybe he'll show the other side of himself that no one knows and will feel comfortable sharing the deep secrets he had been keeping.

Seeing Og Penelope helping Winter to help the orphans was so cute and heartwarming Because like you said Penelope was an orphan before so she can easily relate to the orphans in the slum (I can imagine her feeling a little bitter because she'll remember her awful past but I think this will also show her soft side) plus it will be a big help to boost her reputation among the people.

Speaking of magic we all know that Og Penelope is a descendant of ancient magicians(spoilers for those who don't know). I'm imagining what if Winter taught her how to use her powers properly it would be cool.

[more-ri]

An Intentional Meeting

Two women stood across from each other, neither daring to break eye contact for even a moment. At their waist was a wooden table that separated the two, cluttered with burlap sacks and paper wrapped boxes, it was all that was keeping the two from lunging at each other. The one behind the table assembled a short stack of boxes. Her hands moved across the table with the dexterity of a seasoned professional, which made her message clear when she paused with her hand resting on the pile, eyebrow raised with a smug expectation. 

The other woman rummaged through her bag, her focus on maintaining eye contact made her fumble through her once familiar satchel .When her hand came to rest on warm metal, she knew she had won. As she placed her coins on the table she flicked one, causing it to roll in a wild vector towards the corner of the table. The eyes of the woman behind the table went wide as she jerked her head towards the coin, slapping it before it had the chance to run off. The cold iron fear that ran through her bones when she realized she’d looked away froze her in place.

“Hah! I knew I’d get you with that one.” The woman who’d won beamed as she collected her groceries. 

The merchant nodded as she put the coin away. “What does that make the score, twenty three to,” She paused, tapping her chin. “six?”

“Oh shush you, I’m allowed to relish my victories just as much as you are.”

The woman turned to walk away, before glancing around and leaning over the counter. 

“By the way, have you heard-”

The two women gossiped, paying no mind to the tall figure that walked past them. 

The figure drifted like a shadow from stall to stall in the merchant square, taking brief looks at their goods and holding even briefer conversations. Wearing dark patchwork clothes, they wrapped their cloak around themselves despite it being the middle of summer. Their pale face was set in a solemn frown, half hidden behind long curtains of grimy black hair. Deciding that none of the produce was worth buying they stole one last longing look at a bottle of wine before turning to leave. It was set much closer to the merchant than any of his other goods, and trying to sneak it out from under him would likely reward them with several bruises and a night in jail. 

Tallying their haul for the week, their shoulders drooped. Half a dozen assorted fruits and a loaf of bread wasn’t anything stellar, but it would do until they were able to hunt again. They began to lose themselves in daydreams of running through the woods when they were interrupted by a sudden voice. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around.”

Leaning against a nearby wall, a short woman leered at the figure. Her sharp gaze was contrasted by a soft face that promised comfort, tanned skin that was burnt in places, and wavy black hair that fell like a waterfall. Draped in an off-white gown that was stained with the filth of poverty, she took deliberate steps towards the figure. 

“Got a name, stranger?”

The figure paused, before the brief spark of interest that held them faded and they continued to walk.

Matching their pace, the woman followed alongside them. The calculating look on her face eased into a relaxed smile. Though she didn’t speak much to the figure, the woman gave greetings and well wishes to many of the townsfolk they passed. In return the two received warm smiles followed by politely masked confusion as their eyes trailed up to her companion, who was attempting to bury themselves in their cloak. Whenever their eyes met they would give her a heated look of annoyance, which was met with a coy smile. 

The woman steered them back to the market district as she began to have pleasant chats with the merchants. The figure’s thin fingers clutched their pack closer to them, the dread of being discovered as a thief built as they looked for potential escape points in-between polite nods. 

“Emilia!” A familiar vinter called out to the woman, waving her closer with a feverish enthusiasm, the old man that greeted them from behind the stall was as aged as the wine he sold. As he and the woman launched into fast conversation, the figure felt their head spin from the noise. 

The old man pushed a bottle into Emilia’s hands, and in that moment of distraction the figure broke away, pushing for the edge of the crowd. Straining against the flowing tide of people suffocated them, and their ears began to ring as they were rocked back and forth.  Breaking free from the market the figure retreated to a nearby alley, stopping a moment to catch their breath. 

To their dismay, a moment was too long to stop.

“Leaving so soon?” Emilia walked up to them, looking barely inconvenienced from navigating the hoard of people. “I was hoping we could talk, properly.”

The figure stood to their full height, towering over the short woman in an effort to reclaim their lost confidence. As they debated between shouting or drawing their blade, they felt a weight press into their chest. 

The heavy weight of a wine bottle.

“I’ll even share, if you tell me who I’m sharing with.”

---

Apostrophe’s head thrummed as he struggled to open his eyes, the harsh morning sunlight was blinding. Managing a squint, he lazily rummaged through the closest nightstand for anything that would ease the dry pain in his throat. Finding nothing but stale wine, he pushed the empty bottles to the floor in frustration before beginning to wrestle with the smooth red sheets that curled around him.

“Someone’s lively today.” Emilia said. Sitting at her desk, she scratched notes into a ledger, occasionally flipping a page or giving the book a murderous glare. ”Once you’ve put yourself together I need some help. It’s been a good year but a couple of our guests started acting up and you need to teach them some manners.”

Winning his fight with the bed, Apostrophe murmured agreement and made his way towards the wardrobe. He managed to get halfway through putting on a pair of pants before his mind began to wander. Running his fingers over the polished wood of the button, his body began to feel icy. A creeping ache began to eat its way through his bones, sending shards of pain throughout his chest. 

A gentle hand touched his cheek, and his vision came into focus. Throwing the tangled mess of emotions into a box, he turned his attention to the lady that now held him. 

“You’ll get to break them down like a big, strong man. You’d do that for me, right?”

[octopationaltherapy]

A Vinter boy Chapter 2

Original Omegaverse fiction. Alpha/Alpha. Alpha/Omega. Omega/Omega. M/M. M/M/M. Background F/F, M/F, M/M relationships.

TW: Eating disorders, past sexual abuse, past child sexual abuse

Alexander had arrived in the evening, only shortly before dinner. Eight pairs of eyes followed his every move, sizing him up.

Read on AO3

OR

Alexander had arrived in the evening, only shortly before dinner. He said little, green eyes darting around to take in every inch of his environment. Eight pairs of eyes followed his every move, sizing him up. It was Margaret who made the first move.

They were in the parlor, the lot of them, enjoying their free time after dinner. It was arranged differently at the time, with ample seating to accommodate the entire student body, and a large, oak desk at one end, from which Darius oversaw everything. He had watched the girl approach, like a cat approaching a wounded bird. Alexander had sat in an armchair in the far corner, watching. He didn’t move a muscle as the girl neared, but his eyes tracked her the entire time.

“Hey blondie.” She drawled, her own, blonde ringlets hanging in front of her eyes as she leaned directly into the boy’s personal space.

Alexander said nothing.

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, persistent. “You don’t sound like you’re from Maryland.”

Alexander exhaled, straightening in his seat, and met the girl’s eyes. The boy knew a challenge when he saw it. Still, he did not speak.

“‘M from Georgia.” The girl says. “That’s way south.”

“Why don’t you tell someone who cares.” Alexander had responded, and Vinter had fought the snort that rose to his mouth.

The boy’s accent was mostly generic: Received Pronunciation, The Queen’s English; but if you knew how to listen, you could hear the Birmingham in it. The sound of the ‘y’ in “why” was said more like the “oi” in “poise.” “Cares” was pronounced like “Cahs,” not with a soft schwa sound like in southern England, but with a short ‘a’ sound, like the word ‘cat.’ Darius exhaled warmly. The boy had not set foot in England in more than seven years.

“What’d you do?” the girl persisted. “To get here, I mean.”

“None of your business.”

“Tell ya what I did.” she grinned. “Burnt down a roller rink. They were gonna send me to a real prison, with alphas and everything, but my lawyer got them to send me here instead.”

Alexander snorted.

“Fitting.” 

“Whatcha mean by that?” 

The boy shrugged.

“Don’t think too hard on it.” He said. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

“You calling me stupid?”

“Shockingly astute, aren’t you?” Alexander snarked viciously. “You talk like a dumb hick, too. Next time, your parents should keep the matchbook out of reach, yeah? These things aren’t meant to be played with by children under twelve, or those with the intelligence thereof.”

“Alexander, that’s one.” Darius called from his desk. “We don’t insult our peers. And Margaret, if the boy doesn’t want to speak to you, do leave him alone. You are already at two, today.”

“He ain’t said that.” Margaret retorted, and Darius sighed.

“‘He hasn’t said that.’” He corrected. “Alexander, Margaret tends to need boundaries laid out plainly for her, and she struggles to respect them even then. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if she won’t leave you alone.”

At that moment, a tall boy with dusty brown hair had risen from his spot on the loveseat and approached the alpha’s desk, fidgeting and nervous. Busy with another charge, he had missed the rest of the pair’s conversation.

“Dr. Vinter.” The omega had said, voice struggling to project above a whisper, as it tended to do in those days.

“What is it, Gabriel?” The alpha responded, attempting to keep one ear on the pair in the corner, where he knew tension was rising. He tried to keep the agitation out of his voice, but he can tell he hadn’t succeeded by the way the boy hunched his shoulders.

“Could I go ahead and go to my room?” He asks. “I’m ready for bed.”

Darius sighed, and turned to face the boy.

“We have this conversation every night, don’t we, Gabriel?” He said softly. “And every night I tell you that the answer is no. I understand that you are anxious, but it is better that you stay and socialize.”

“Not really socializing.” He mutters. “I just sit and wait for bed. What difference does it make, now or then?”

“I can’t force you to socialize,” Darius answered. “At the same time, I will not allow you to worsen your anxieties by secluding yourself in your room. You may go to bed with the rest of your peers, Gabriel, and that will be my answer every night.”

“I worsen my anxieties being out here.” Gabriel had countered, and Darius recalls it as the first time the boy had ever elected to argue with him. “They don’t like me, they don’t want me to talk to them. If neither of us want to be friends, why can’t I go to bed?”

“Frankly, Gabriel, they don’t like anyone very much.” Darius responded with a snort. “They manage to be friendly enough with each other, and they will treat you with the same regard if you afford it to them. They’re here for many of the same reasons you are, you don’t need to be afraid.”

Gabriel had huffed at that, unsatisfied.

“You used to let me.” He pressed. “You used to let me go to bed.”

Darius sighed.

“I had considered it a kindness, your first week here.” He explained. “And I apologize for my poor judgement and the expectations it has left you with. Presently, you will spend the time between dinner and bedtime the same way as the rest of your peers, and that is final.”

“But that’s not fair!” The boy whined in response. 

“Careful, Gabriel.” Darius had warned.

“It doesn’t hurt anyone, though. Just let me go.”

“That is one.” Darius responded. “So rarely do you earn warnings, and punishments even less. Think carefully about how you wish to respond.”

The boy had fidgeted. He changed tactics.

“Please?” He pressed. “Please may I go to bed, alpha?”

“We are about to arrive at two.” Darius warned. “Would you like to talk about it, Gabriel? What are you afraid is going to happen?”

The boy fidgeted. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a shriek pierced the calm atmosphere of the room. Darius looked up to see Alexander on top of Margaret, straddling her, throwing punches at her face with reckless abandon. He rose, rushing to diffuse the brawl.

“Alexander! Margaret! Separate!” He called, voice harsh, as he crossed the room.

He arrived at the brawl, and pulled the boy off by the armpits.

“Enough, Alexander.” He growled..

The boy didn’t listen, delivering kicks to the girl’s side as the doctor pulled him away. Darius pulled him backward, and administered a hold, crossing his arms over his chest. Alexander snarled viciously at the girl, who lay on the floor, covering her face.

“You’re fucking lucky!” He spits, pressed against the doctor’s chest. “Do you know that, cunt? Next time he’s not looking, I’m going to fuck you up! Watch your fucking back. I’m going to fuck you up.”

  Darius sighed.

“Quiet, Alexander.” He said. “Leave her be, you made your point. Margaret, are you alright? Can you get up?”

The girl rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself to her feet. She grinned up at the alpha, blood leaking down her chin from the center of her swollen, bottom lip.

“Peachy, doc.” She chirped, shameless. “Take care of Alex first. I’ll wait.”

“My name is Alexander.” The boy spat, thrashing in the doctor’s arms. “And you should keep it out of your mouth if you know what’s good for you, you white trash, hillbilly bitch!”

“Enough, Alexander.” Darius sighed. “We’re going to my office.”

He pulled the boy out of the room, backwards, and the omega drug his heels the entire time. He addressed the room before he made his way through the door frame.

“This parlor had better be exactly as I left it when I return.” He warned. “Or everyone in it is going to be sorry. Do we understand?”

“Yes, alpha.” The group responded in a chorus, and the doctor left.

He dragged the boy up the stairs, dropping him just beyond the door to his office and closing it behind them. He crouched, level with the boy’s face, and reached for his hands, examining him.

“Did she hurt you at all?” He asked. The omega pulled away.

“Other way around, innit?” He snorted, gaze cast down and away from the alpha. “Innit” was said like “ennit.”

Darius rose, exhaling a laugh.

“Have a seat in the armchair.” He instructed, and found his own seat behind his desk.

“I already know she provoked you.” Darius began, seated. “So go ahead and tell me what happened.”��

“Don’t know what you mean.” Alexander responded easily, slumped in the armchair with his gaze cast to the window at his side. A storm had raged beyond it, low rumbles of thunder echoing beyond the walls of the manor.

Darus snorted.

“Alexander, please.” He said, with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s not play games.”

“Not playing anything.” He responded. “Nothing happened at all, just a couple of friends clarting about.”

“And do you often tell your friends that you’re going to ‘fuck them up,’ Alexander?”

The boy grinned.

“You and I have different kinds of friends, doctor.”

He pronounced “doctor” with the same short a sound as “cares.” Darius hummed.

“You don’t want to snitch.” He said. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Alexander grunted. He said nothing.

“Alexander, when I am done with you, I am going to bring Margaret in here.” Darius said slowly. “And she is going to try to malign you with any accusation she can think of. If you say nothing, all I have to go on is her word.”

Alexander shrugged.

“Sounds like you know what happened.”

Darius sighed.

“I believe I have an idea.” He admitted. “But, I would appreciate the details.”

“Go play detective, then.” The boy snarled. “Think I got some of her blood on the carpet. Maybe it’ll give you one of those Sherlock Holmes flashbacks, like the movies.”

Darius exhaled, fondness in his chest.

“Very well.” He sighed, rising. “In any case, you have earned your first punishment several times over.”

Darius made his way to an armless, red chair situated in the corner of the room, and took a seat.

“Let’s see.I think I counted six separate profanities as I pulled you off of Margaret.” Darius mused. “Five for each would be thirty. Then, physical violence is worth at least another twenty, as well as loss of privileges. I think you’ve found yourself at fifty, Alexander.”

The boy shrugged, saying nothing.

“Come here and remove your trousers.” The alpha instructed, tone even.

The omega snorted.

“They actually do that?” He snarked, venom in his voice. “They take their pants off, willingly, for you to spank them? Spineless fucking bunch of cunts, aren’t they?”

“And soon enough, you will fall in line behind them.” Darius assured. “Two more instances of profanity, that puts us at sixty. Would you like to push for more?”

Alexander had shrugged, glaring out the window.

“I can assure you that things are going to be much worse for you if I have to come over and get you myself, Alexander.” The alpha warned, already knowing the outcome. “I’ll give you one more chance to comply. You have until the count of three. One.”

“Two, three.” Alexander had finished, glaring directly into the alpha’s eyes. “Do whatever you want, but I’m never going to fall in line like the rest of your little dolls.”

At this, Darius had grinned.

“As you wish.”

The boy had fought, of course, with every ounce of venom the doctor had hoped for. His nails had scraped the flesh from the alpha’s arm, leaving lines of blood in their wake. At the end, as was always the case, the omega was bottomless over the doctor’s knee, snarling and spitting insults.

Darius had gleefully added to the boy’s count with every curse that fell from his lips. He hadn’t succeeded in making him cry, as was typically the goal for the first punishment of one of his brats, but eventually, the boy had wised up enough to fall silent. He remembers his body, rigid over the alpha’s knee, trembling with rage as he fought to keep quiet. The best part had yet to come.

“You may get up now, Alexander.” Darius said, having delivered the final blow. 

The omega rose, glaring daggers into the alpha’s face, and reached for his waistband.

“Trousers do not come up yet.” Darius corrected, reveling in the shock that crossed the boy’s face as he spoke. “We apologize, first.”

Alexander’s eyes darted between the alpha and his trousers. Then, he shrugged.

“Sorry.” He chirped, noncommittal, and continued to pull his pants up. Darius snorted.

“We have a specific way of apologizing here, Alexander.” He explained. “If those trousers make their way around your waist before I’m finished, you are going to get another sixty, young man.”

Alexander winced, and dropped his trousers.

“That’s a good boy.” Darius  praised. “I want you to kneel in front of me, and apologize for what you did wrong, Alexander. Can you do that?”

The boy’s lip curled upwards into a snarl, and he stood frozen in front of the alpha, glaring.

“Kneel, or take another sixty, Alexander.” Darius said. “It’s your choice.”

With a growl, the boy dropped to his knees, glaring up at the alpha.

“I’m sorry.” He spat.

“What are you sorry for, Alexander?” 

The boy rolled his eyes shamelessly.

“Swearing.” He said.

“Using profanity.” Darius affirmed. “And what else?”

Alexander shrugged.

“Disobedience.” The doctor answered. “For not laying across my lap when told. What else, Alexander?”

“Beats me.” He muttered. Darius smiled warmly.

“We’re missing a pretty big one, Alexander.”

“There is nothing else I feel I need to apologize for, Dr. Vinter.” The boy replied, a faux-innocence to his tone.

“Nothing at all?” The doctor probed, meeting the boy’s humor. “Nothing that happened downstairs?”

“As I remember it, my actions downstairs were entirely reasonable, Dr. Vinter.” The boy replied. “May I go now?”

Darius snorted.

“Margaret is a brat, a bully, and a constant annoyance, Alexander.” He said. “She is one of the most difficult students I’ve ever had, and you are not the only one here who dislikes her. You are still not allowed to become violent with your peers, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“She was begging for it.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Darius replied. “And we still do not solve our problems with violence. I told you only moments before to come to me if you needed help, did I not?”

Alexander snorted.

“‘We do not solve our problems with violence.’” He muttered, mimicking the doctor. “We tattle instead, so Dr. Vinter can do it.”

“Smart aleck, aren’t you?” Darius muttered fondly. “If you aren’t ready to apologize, I will happily bring you back over my knee.”

Alexander groaned.

“What was it you wanted me to say?”

Darius sighed.

“Repeat after me, Alexander.” He instructed. “‘I’m sorry, Alpha, for using profanity, being disobedient, and using violence against my peers.”’

“Was only one peer.” Alexander muttered.

“I’m starting to lose my patience, Alexander.”

The boy groaned.

“I’m sorry, Alpha, for using profanity, being disobedient, and using violence against only one peer.” He droned, voice flat as though he was reciting meaningless rote. “That's good, yeah?”

“Acceptable.” The doctor replied. “If I return you to the parlor, are you going to behave?”

“So long as everyone else does.”

“If it’s not a yes, we can see how you feel after that extra sixty.” Dr. Vinter offered. “Never too late to add more.”

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

“I’ll be good, okay?” He responded. “She’d just better stay away from me.”

Darius had sighed.

“I will try to keep her away from you for the remainder of the night.” He said. “But she is likely going to make it her goal to remain a thorn in your side. Her behavior cannot dictate your actions, Alexander, and if they do, you will not be spared from punishment.”

Alexander didn’t respond, gaze cast toward the window. Lightning flashed outside.

“Are you going to behave if I return you to the parlor, Alexander?” Dr. Vinter pressed. “Yes or no?”

The boy rolled his head back to look at the alpha.

“Yes.” He groaned.

“Yes, alpha.” Vinter corrected, and Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Alpha.” He chirped, snarking brightly. “If you, alpha, return me to the parlor, alpha, I, alpha, will behave, alpha.”

Darius smiled warmly.

“I’m happy to hear it, Alexander.” He said, rising. “You may pull up your trousers, now.”

The boy rose and tugged his waistband back into place. He followed Darius down the stairs, sulking the entire time.

“Okay, Margaret.” Drarius sighed, leading the boy into the parlor. Then, he stopped short, looking around.

“Where did Gabriel go?”

“Shot up the stairs like a bullet as soon as you left.” Robin snorted from behind a comic book, seated on the floor. He grinned up at the doctor, bright red curls falling into his face, and added. “Trembling, all the while.”

“What is that guy’s problem?” Tom asked from the loveseat, a sketchbook spread over his lap. “He acts like we're wild dogs, like we’re gonna maul him, unprovoked.”

“He is anxious.” The doctor replied gently. “He’s had trouble adjusting.”

“What’s he got to be anxious about?” Collin had asked from behind the thin, round frames of his glasses. “He’s just as crazy as the rest of us, right?” 

Darius had snorted.

“None of you are crazy, Collin.” He replied. “You all know exactly what you’re doing.”

“He’s a pussy.” David replied flatly, flipping through a novel on the couch. “Call it what it is.”

The doctor tutted.

“David, you have just found yourself at three.”

“What? No I haven’t.” The boy replied, looking up with wide, brown eyes. Freckles were splashed across his nose like stars in the night sky. “I only had one, from being late for breakfast.”

“You and Tom each received another for rough housing in the halls before class.” Darius reminded.

David threw his head back, groaning.

“You’re not really gonna count that, are you?” He asked. “He was in on it. We were playing, not fighting.”

“There is a time and place for playing, David, and it is not in the halls of my school while waiting for class.” The doctor scolded. “Perhaps it’s not wise to play this game, using your warnings right up to a punishment.”

“Don’t know what you’re crying about.” Tom snorted, scratching into his sketchbook with a pencil. “The rough housing was three, for me.”

“It was six, if you want to be specific.” The doctor corrected.

“Only goes to three.” Tom replied, grinning. “Can’t count any higher, can you, Doc?”

Darius hummed.

“We could make it seven right now. Couldn’t we, Tom?”

“Doesn’t matter until it gets to nine.” the boy replied with a shrug.

“Then seven it is.”

Samantha spoke up then, tucking her long, tawny brown hair behind her ear.

“I’m gonna save mine up one day.” She mused, hazel eyes narrowed at the doctor. “Then cuss you out and go to bed.”

Darius snorted.

“I think I would call that an automatic consequence, Samantha.”

“Swear word’s one warning a piece.” She replied. “That’s what it’s always been.”

“Consequences are given at my own discretion.”

“You couldn’t cuss him out with only two.” Robin said. “You can’t cuss somebody out and only swear twice. You need like five or six.”

Collin laughed at that.

“Where do you think the line is, exactly?” He asked. “Between cussing somebody out, and just cussing.”

“You’d need twenty or thirty to do it right.” Tom said.

“I think it’s more about the ratio.” Samantha argued. “Like one cuss word for every three regular words.”

“Three cuss words for every one regular word.” Robin countered.

“It becomes hard to form a coherent sentence if you overdo it.” David snarked.

“In any case, none of you are going to be able to test these theories for a while, are you?” The doctor mused.

“I think maybe it would work on my last day.” Samantha said thoughtfully, ignoring the doctor’s comment. “‘Cause then what are you gonna do? My alpha would be coming for me. The two of you would have to duke it out for yourselves, and I could probably just walk out the door. Let you guys fight, and I go get a slurpee from seven-eleven.”

“That kind of optimism could see you through many a rainy day, Samantha.” The doctor grinned.

“Sammy.” She corrected sharply. “No one calls me that but you.”

“Me, and the state of Maryland.” He replied. “Alright, enough. Come along, Margaret.”

Margaret followed the doctor up the stairs, chattering all the while.

“I don’t know what happened, doctor.” She began, faux-shock in her voice. “We was just talkin’, and then he was on top of me.”

“‘We were just talking.’” the doctor corrected flatly.

“Maybe he’s sick or something.” she said. “Like a psychopath.”

The doctor only hummed in response.

“Or maybe it’s, like, sexual for him.” She said, wrinkling her nose in put-upon disgust. “Like he likes me or somethin’”

“Margaret.” The doctor said, tone soft but firm, as they reached the top of the stairs. “Please feel free to prattle on this way, if you feel you must. It’s got to bring you some kind of benefit, or you wouldn’t do it so often. All I ask is that you let me know if you intend to say anything that is actually true, alright?”

The girl’s expression soured, then her eyes caught something behind the doctor.

“Is that Gabriel?” she asked.

The doctor cast his gaze down the hall to see Gabriel, features obscured by the darkness, sitting on the floor against his bedroom door, long legs bent at the knee. His head was dropped between his shoulders, gaze pointed at the floor. Darius turned to Margaret.

“You are to sit in the armchair and wait for me.” He said, turning her towards his office by the shoulders. “And you are not to move from there the entire time. Are we clear?”

“Yes, alpha.” She droned, and Darius watched her make her way to the chair and sit before he closed the door.

Then, he made his way down the hall.

“Alright, Gabriel.” He said softly. “It’s time to go back downstairs.”

The omega looked up with wide, blue eyes, then dropped his head to look at the floor once more. He said nothing, and made no move to rise from his spot. Darius sighed.

“You know,” He said, lowering himself to sit at the boy’s side. “If it were any other student, ignoring a direct order like that would be an automatic consequence, and a severe one. That would make only your second, wouldn't it?”

The omega let out a stuttering sigh, and peered up at the doctor sideways.

“Let’s talk, Gabriel.” Darius said gently.

“Not much to say.” Gabriel muttered. “Said it downstairs. I just want to go to my room.”

“You were about to tell me downstairs,” The doctor countered. “Before we were interrupted. What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Gabriel searched the doctor’s face, then dropped his gaze back to the floor, grimacing.

“Do you think they’re going to hurt you?” Darius pressed. “You know I wouldn’t let them, Gabriel.”

The boy snorted.

“With all due respect, I could take any of them with a hand behind my back.” He replied.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s that we’re not allowed to fight!” The boy exclaimed. “So what am I supposed to do if they mess with me?”

“Ah.” The doctor said, realization hitting him. “You’re afraid of getting picked on by the others, then? Made fun of?”

The boy tilted his head from side to side.

“I’m not like the rest of them.” He said. “I can’t think of that smart aleck shit on the spot like that, but I can fight.”

“Two, Gabriel. Be very careful.” the doctor warned.

The boy exhaled.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“You know you can come to me for help if you need it, Gabriel.” Dr. Vinter said gently.

Gabriel snorted.

“That’s your plan to not get picked on?” He balked. “Tattling?”

“I do also hear most of what goes on in this house.” He replied. “If I hear anyone say something that I think crosses a line into bullying, I will stop them.”

Gabriel tilted his head from side to side again, considering. The doctor took in breath, and continued.

“You are right, however, that the others will likely attempt to get under your skin.” He said softly. “Playfully at times, and hurtfully at others. You could consider this an opportunity to learn another method of defending yourself, one that doesn’t involve violence.”

“Violence has worked pretty well so far.”

“It also landed you here.” The doctor pointed out.

The boy had shrugged, tilting his head from side to side.

“You’re right.” He muttered.

“I often am.”

Gabriel sighed.

“I just feel like they all hate me.” He said. “We have nothing in common.”

Darius snorted.

“You have not spoken to any of them for more than five minutes, Gabriel.” He said. “It’s true that your upbringing is different from the other students, but you cannot claim they hate you before you have even spoken to them. You would probably be surprised with how much you have in common with them, if you gave them a chance.”

Gabriel nodded, but said nothing, gaze cast down to the floor.

“Are we ready to go downstairs?” Darius probed. “I won’t tell the others I let you off easy if you don’t”

Gabriel laughed.

“Alright.” He sighed, rising, “Thank you, Dr. Vinter. I’ll be good.”

Darius watched the boy make his way down the staircase until he was out of view. Then he made for his office.

“Alright, Margaret.” He sighed, opening the door. 

The girl fixed her posture as he entered, sitting up from her slouched position, and Darius made his way to his desk.

“Would you like to tell me what you said to him, Margaret?” Darius asked, taking his seat.

“Nothin’, Doc!” The girl exclaimed, giving her blonde curls a shake. “I was just bein’ friendly, and he attacked me.”

“Margaret.” Darius said flatly, and the girl hustled to compensate for the doctor’s distrust.

“Or, I don’t think I said anything.” She amended. “Maybe it was a misunderstandin’. He’s foreign, you know.”

Darius snorted. He said nothing.

“I mean maybe I said somethin’ by accident.” She said, trying her luck. “Somethin’ that’s normal here, but he took it wrong.”

“Like what?” Darius asked, unconvinced.

“Oh, I dunno.” She said, blue eyes wide and darting around the room. “Did he say I said somethin’?”

Darius sighed, running a hand over his face. He checked his watch.

“Alright, Margaret, it’s nearly time for bed.” He said slowly. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or shall we simply get your punishment over with?”

“I already told you.” She doubled down. “He just jumped on top of me. I didn’t do nothin’.”

Darius exhaled, holding onto his composure.

“Very well.” He said, rising. He made his way to the armless, red chair. “If you don’t want to tell the truth, I will simply give you sixty, the same as Alexander. Sound fair?”

The girl caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“But I didn’t do nothin’.” She persisted, voice small.

“Are you going to comply, or do I have to come get you?”

Margaret swallowed, rising from her seat, and removed her skirt.

Margaret always began crying as soon as she could manage, aiming to shorten her punishment as much as possible. Darius always kept swats even in harshness throughout her entire spanking, to show her that it wouldn’t work. She often squirmed, but rarely swore or kicked like the others, and had never attempted to hurt the doctor. Darius only wished she could behave as well in any other circumstance.

“Alright, Margaret.” He said, having delivered the last blow. “It’s over, you may stand.”

Margaret rose, then dropped to her knees, not waiting to be asked.

“I’m sorry, alpha.” She said. 

“Sorry for what?”

The girl hesitated.

“For provoking your peers.” Darius balked, shaking his head in disbelief. “And lying, Margaret.”

“I swear, I-

“Lie to me again and take another sixty.” Darius snapped. “I am not stupid, Margaret.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“I’m sorry for provoking my peers and lying, Alpha.” She said softly.

“Good girl.” Darius sighed, rising. “Now stop doing it.”

Darius led the girl into the hall, then addressed her, pointing towards the dorms.

“Wait by your bedroom door.” He instructed. “The others will be up for bed shortly, and I promised Alexander I would keep you away from him for the rest of the night.”

The girl ducked her head, and nodded, making her way down the hall. Darius descended the stairs.

“Alright.” He exhaled, as he entered the parlor. He checked his watch. “And that makes bedtime, doesn’t it? Single file up the stairs.”

Eight omegas ascended the stairs, one by one. Darius caught David by shoulders as he passed, pulling him sideways out of line.

“Not you, David.” He said. “You owe me a chat in my office, don’t you?”

David hunched his shoulders, shrinking in his spot, and Darius marched him up the stairs after the others, a hand perched on the back of his neck.

“Wait for me in the armchair.” He told him, directing him through his office door.

“Yes, sir.” David muttered as the alpha made his leave.

Darius made his way down the hall to the dorms and pulled the ring of keys from his pocket. He started at the far end, Alexander’s room, and opened it with a turn of the key.

“You’ve got the single, Alexander, lucky you.” He said dryly. “Your clothes are in the dresser, but I’m afraid your books will have to wait until tomorrow, when the day staff can go through them, since you brought so many.”

Alexander doesn’t reply, walking through the door.

“Then it’s Collin and David.” Darius continued, unlocking the next door. “David will be joining you shortly, Collin.”

Collin responded with a snicker, and entered his dorm.

“Gabriel and Joshua.” Darius said, and unlocked the next door. “Finally that time, Gabriel.”

Joshua, a short boy with light brown skin and dark, coiled hair, stood at the doctor’s side with his eyebrows raised. He held his hands in front of him with his fingertips facing the doctor, a few inches apart, palms facing each other. Then, he brings them together, drawing them closer to himself and orients his fingertips towards the ceiling: the sign for “request.” 

“What is it, Joshua?” Darius asked.

“Laundry,” He signed. “Need to get.” 

“Go ahead.” Darius replied. “It should still be unlocked.”

“Thank you.” The boy signed, and turned to make his way down the stairs.

“Samantha and Margaret.” Darius continued, and unlocked the next door.

“Tell Maggie not to use all the hot water tonight.” Samantha sneered, eyes narrow. Margaret sneered right back.

“You’ve just told her yourself.” Darius responded dryly. “But do try to be considerate of your roommates, and that goes for everyone.”

With that, the girls disappeared into their room, where a hushed argument initiated as soon as the doctor was out of sight. Darius sighed.

“And last is Robin and Tom.” Darius finished, and opened the final door. 

“Why does the new kid get the single if I’ve been here the longest?” Tom asked.

“Because when I find a dorm configuration that is anything less than catastrophic I tend to be reluctant to change it.” Darius snorted. “You and Robin get along just fine, Tom.”

“He snores.” Tom replied flatly.

“Well, you talk in your sleep.” Robin retorted. “In Japanese.”

“I do?” Tom asked. “What do I say?”

Robin shrugged.

“I just said it was in Japanese, dude.” He laughed. “How would I know?”

“Bed, boys.” Darius instructed. “You can have this conversation in your room.”

The pair disappeared behind their door, and Darius made his way to his office for a final time.

“Alright, David, your turn.” Darius yawned as he made his way to his desk.

David sat, fidgeting, in the arm chair. A guilty smile tugged on his lips.

“Would you care to explain your language downstairs?” Darius asked, leaning his chin on one hand. David exhaled a laugh, breathy and nervous.

“I thought it would be funny, sir.” He said, sheepish.

Darius hummed. “And was it?”

“Collin thought it was.” David replied. “But it definitely doesn’t seem as funny now.”

Darius snorted.

“It seems like every time you get in trouble, Collin’s name comes up sooner or later.”

David shook his head.

“No, sir, I chose to do it.” He replied. “It’s my fault.”

Darius tapped his fingers on the desk.

“What happened in the parlor?” He asked. “When I was upstairs with Alexander?”

David shrugged, shoulders knit close to his ears.

“I mean, not a lot.” He answered. “Gabriel ran upstairs, and the rest of us mostly just talked about that.”

“And what did you say?”

“Just that we don’t get what his problem is.”

“And who called him a pussy?”

“Coll-” David began, then stopped short, eyes wide.

“A colleague of mine.” He corrected, earning a snort from the doctor. “And another colleague may have suggested that someone say it in front of you, to see how you would react.”

“And you volunteered because you thought you were only at one?” Darius guessed.

David fidgeted.

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He replied.

“Need to discuss it with your colleagues first?”

“Don’t I have a right to legal counsel?” David snarked.

“Not here.” Darius replied. “You shouldn’t let them influence you, David. You’ll wind up staying here even longer.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” David replied. “How many is this?”

Darius tapped a pen on the desk, upright.

“Let’s see.” He mused. “Profanity is five, and roughhousing is another five. What was one for again?” 

”Being late for breakfast.” David answered.

“Yes, that’s right.” Darius replied. “You get one every day for being late to breakfast, don’t you? The same as Collin. What are you boys doing every morning?”

“Trying to find his glasses.” David responded.

“It takes you thirty full minutes to find Collin’s glasses with two sets of eyes?”

“Only one set of eyes, sir.” David replied. “Because Collin doesn’t have his glasses.”

Darius had laughed at that one.

“He wouldn’t lose them if he set them on the nightstand.” He said, and David snorted in reply.

“I’ve told him that.” He said. “But he falls asleep in them every night, and we find them somewhere new every morning.”

“In any case,” Darius sighed, rising and making his way to the armless chair. “Tardiness is one for every minute. You’ve earned forty, David. Come here, please.”

David always complied beautifully, and almost never argued.Trousers removed, he lay himself over Darius’s lap, and braced himself against the carpeted floor with shaky arms. Darius exhaled, rubbing circles on the boy’s back.

“Deep breaths, David.” He said softly. “You’ve done it before.”

“But it never gets any easier.” David replied, voice small.

“An incentive to behave, perhaps?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try.”

Darius delivered the smacks quickly, and by the end, David trembled in his lap. When released, the boy stood, drawing in shaky breaths, with his arms wrapped around himself just beneath his ribs. Then, he dropped to his knees. Tears shone in his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry for using profanity, being tardy, and rough housing, sir.” He said softly, gaze cast to the floor. Darius gently lifted his chin.

“‘Alpha’ during a punishment, David.” He tutted. “Not ‘sir.’ Try again.”

David exhaled a breathy laugh.

“I always do that.” He whispered. Then, he cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I’m sorry for using profanity, being tardy, and rough housing, Alpha.”

“Good boy.” Darius said softly. “Would you like a hug, David?” 

David dropped his gaze, chewing his bottom lip. Slowly, he nodded.

“Come here, then.” Darius said, and rose from his seat, arms outstretched.

The boy folded readily into the doctor’s arms, and Darius pulled him close. 

“I know you’re a good boy, David.” Darius murmured, and released the boy. “I would like you to act like it.”

“Yes, sir.” David said softly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Darius checked his watch.

“You’ve got about five minutes before lights out, David.” He said. “Your room is unlocked. Hurry, so you can get ready for bed.”

David redressed himself quickly and made for bed; and with that, the doctor’s day was done, for the most part. He collapsed into his desk chair to enjoy the five minutes of solitude available before he had to go back to the dorms and announce lights out. 

And Darius Vinter was excited to do it all again the next day. 

Alexander had arrived in the evening, only shortly before dinner. He said little, green eyes darting around to take in every inch of his environment. Eight pairs of eyes followed his every move, sizing him up. It was Margaret who made the first move.

They were in the parlor, the lot of them, enjoying their free time after dinner. It was arranged differently at the time, with ample seating to accommodate the entire student body, and a large, oak desk at one end, from which Darius oversaw everything. He had watched the girl approach, like a cat approaching a wounded bird. Alexander had sat in an armchair in the far corner, watching. He didn’t move a muscle as the girl neared, but his eyes tracked her the entire time.

“Hey blondie.” She drawled, her own, blonde ringlets hanging in front of her eyes as she leaned directly into the boy’s personal space.

Alexander said nothing.

“Where’d you come from?” She asked, persistent. “You don’t sound like you’re from Maryland.”

Alexander exhaled, straightening in his seat, and met the girl’s eyes. The boy knew a challenge when he saw it. Still, he did not speak.

“‘M from Georgia.” The girl says. “That’s way south.”

“Why don’t you tell someone who cares.” Alexander had responded, and Vinter had fought the snort that rose to his mouth.

The boy’s accent was mostly generic: Received Pronunciation, The Queen’s English; but if you knew how to listen, you could hear the Birmingham in it. The sound of the ‘y’ in “why” was said more like the “oi” in “poise.” “Cares” was pronounced like “Cahs,” not with a soft schwa sound like in southern England, but with a short ‘a’ sound, like the word ‘cat.’ Darius exhaled warmly. The boy had not set foot in England in more than seven years.

“What’d you do?” the girl persisted. “To get here, I mean.”

“None of your business.”

“Tell ya what I did.” she grinned. “Burnt down a roller rink. They were gonna send me to a real prison, with alphas and everything, but my lawyer got them to send me here instead.”

Alexander snorted.

“Fitting.” 

“Whatcha mean by that?” 

The boy shrugged.

“Don’t think too hard on it.” He said. “You wouldn’t want to hurt yourself.”

“You calling me stupid?”

“Shockingly astute, aren’t you?” Alexander snarked viciously. “You talk like a dumb hick, too. Next time, your parents should keep the matchbook out of reach, yeah? These things aren’t meant to be played with by children under twelve, or those with the intelligence thereof.”

“Alexander, that’s one.” Darius called from his desk. “We don’t insult our peers. And Margaret, if the boy doesn’t want to speak to you, do leave him alone. You are already at two, today.”

“He ain’t said that.” Margaret retorted, and Darius sighed.

“‘He hasn’t said that.’” He corrected. “Alexander, Margaret tends to need boundaries laid out plainly for her, and she struggles to respect them even then. Don’t hesitate to ask for help if she won’t leave you alone.”

At that moment, a tall boy with dusty brown hair had risen from his spot on the loveseat and approached the alpha’s desk, fidgeting and nervous. Busy with another charge, he had missed the rest of the pair’s conversation.

“Dr. Vinter.” The omega had said, voice struggling to project above a whisper, as it tended to do in those days.

“What is it, Gabriel?” The alpha responded, attempting to keep one ear on the pair in the corner, where he knew tension was rising. He tried to keep the agitation out of his voice, but he can tell he hadn’t succeeded by the way the boy hunched his shoulders.

“Could I go ahead and go to my room?” He asks. “I’m ready for bed.”

Darius sighed, and turned to face the boy.

“We have this conversation every night, don’t we, Gabriel?” He said softly. “And every night I tell you that the answer is no. I understand that you are anxious, but it is better that you stay and socialize.”

“Not really socializing.” He mutters. “I just sit and wait for bed. What difference does it make, now or then?”

“I can’t force you to socialize,” Darius answered. “At the same time, I will not allow you to worsen your anxieties by secluding yourself in your room. You may go to bed with the rest of your peers, Gabriel, and that will be my answer every night.”

“I worsen my anxieties being out here.” Gabriel had countered, and Darius recalls it as the first time the boy had ever elected to argue with him. “They don’t like me, they don’t want me to talk to them. If neither of us want to be friends, why can’t I go to bed?”

“Frankly, Gabriel, they don’t like anyone very much.” Darius responded with a snort. “They manage to be friendly enough with each other, and they will treat you with the same regard if you afford it to them. They’re here for many of the same reasons you are, you don’t need to be afraid.”

Gabriel had huffed at that, unsatisfied.

“You used to let me.” He pressed. “You used to let me go to bed.”

Darius sighed.

“I had considered it a kindness, your first week here.” He explained. “And I apologize for my poor judgement and the expectations it has left you with. Presently, you will spend the time between dinner and bedtime the same way as the rest of your peers, and that is final.”

“But that’s not fair!” The boy whined in response. 

“Careful, Gabriel.” Darius had warned.

“It doesn’t hurt anyone, though. Just let me go.”

“That is one.” Darius responded. “So rarely do you earn warnings, and punishments even less. Think carefully about how you wish to respond.”

The boy had fidgeted. He changed tactics.

“Please?” He pressed. “Please may I go to bed, alpha?”

“We are about to arrive at two.” Darius warned. “Would you like to talk about it, Gabriel? What are you afraid is going to happen?”

The boy fidgeted. He opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a shriek pierced the calm atmosphere of the room. Darius looked up to see Alexander on top of Margaret, straddling her, throwing punches at her face with reckless abandon. He rose, rushing to diffuse the brawl.

“Alexander! Margaret! Separate!” He called, voice harsh, as he crossed the room.

He arrived at the brawl, and pulled the boy off by the armpits.

“Enough, Alexander.” He growled..

The boy didn’t listen, delivering kicks to the girl’s side as the doctor pulled him away. Darius pulled him backward, and administered a hold, crossing his arms over his chest. Alexander snarled viciously at the girl, who lay on the floor, covering her face.

“You’re fucking lucky!” He spits, pressed against the doctor’s chest. “Do you know that, cunt? Next time he’s not looking, I’m going to fuck you up! Watch your fucking back. I’m going to fuck you up.”

  Darius sighed.

“Quiet, Alexander.” He said. “Leave her be, you made your point. Margaret, are you alright? Can you get up?”

The girl rolled onto her stomach, pushing herself to her feet. She grinned up at the alpha, blood leaking down her chin from the center of her swollen, bottom lip.

“Peachy, doc.” She chirped, shameless. “Take care of Alex first. I’ll wait.”

“My name is Alexander.” The boy spat, thrashing in the doctor’s arms. “And you should keep it out of your mouth if you know what’s good for you, you white trash, hillbilly bitch!”

“Enough, Alexander.” Darius sighed. “We’re going to my office.”

He pulled the boy out of the room, backwards, and the omega drug his heels the entire time. He addressed the room before he made his way through the door frame.

“This parlor had better be exactly as I left it when I return.” He warned. “Or everyone in it is going to be sorry. Do we understand?”

“Yes, alpha.” The group responded in a chorus, and the doctor left.

He dragged the boy up the stairs, dropping him just beyond the door to his office and closing it behind them. He crouched, level with the boy’s face, and reached for his hands, examining him.

“Did she hurt you at all?” He asked. The omega pulled away.

“Other way around, innit?” He snorted, gaze cast down and away from the alpha. “Innit” was said like “ennit.”

Darius rose, exhaling a laugh.

“Have a seat in the armchair.” He instructed, and found his own seat behind his desk.

“I already know she provoked you.” Darius began, seated. “So go ahead and tell me what happened.” 

“Don’t know what you mean.” Alexander responded easily, slumped in the armchair with his gaze cast to the window at his side. A storm had raged beyond it, low rumbles of thunder echoing beyond the walls of the manor.

Darus snorted.

“Alexander, please.” He said, with a roll of his eyes. “Let’s not play games.”

“Not playing anything.” He responded. “Nothing happened at all, just a couple of friends clarting about.”

“And do you often tell your friends that you’re going to ‘fuck them up,’ Alexander?”

The boy grinned.

“You and I have different kinds of friends, doctor.”

He pronounced “doctor” with the same short a sound as “cares.” Darius hummed.

“You don’t want to snitch.” He said. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

Alexander grunted. He said nothing.

“Alexander, when I am done with you, I am going to bring Margaret in here.” Darius said slowly. “And she is going to try to malign you with any accusation she can think of. If you say nothing, all I have to go on is her word.”

Alexander shrugged.

“Sounds like you know what happened.”

Darius sighed.

“I believe I have an idea.” He admitted. “But, I would appreciate the details.”

“Go play detective, then.” The boy snarled. “Think I got some of her blood on the carpet. Maybe it’ll give you one of those Sherlock Holmes flashbacks, like the movies.”

Darius exhaled, fondness in his chest.

“Very well.” He sighed, rising. “In any case, you have earned your first punishment several times over.”

Darius made his way to an armless, red chair situated in the corner of the room, and took a seat.

“Let’s see.I think I counted six separate profanities as I pulled you off of Margaret.” Darius mused. “Five for each would be thirty. Then, physical violence is worth at least another twenty, as well as loss of privileges. I think you’ve found yourself at fifty, Alexander.”

The boy shrugged, saying nothing.

“Come here and remove your trousers.” The alpha instructed, tone even.

The omega snorted.

“They actually do that?” He snarked, venom in his voice. “They take their pants off, willingly, for you to spank them? Spineless fucking bunch of cunts, aren’t they?”

“And soon enough, you will fall in line behind them.” Darius assured. “Two more instances of profanity, that puts us at sixty. Would you like to push for more?”

Alexander had shrugged, glaring out the window.

“I can assure you that things are going to be much worse for you if I have to come over and get you myself, Alexander.” The alpha warned, already knowing the outcome. “I’ll give you one more chance to comply. You have until the count of three. One.”

“Two, three.” Alexander had finished, glaring directly into the alpha’s eyes. “Do whatever you want, but I’m never going to fall in line like the rest of your little dolls.”

At this, Darius had grinned.

“As you wish.”

The boy had fought, of course, with every ounce of venom the doctor had hoped for. His nails had scraped the flesh from the alpha’s arm, leaving lines of blood in their wake. At the end, as was always the case, the omega was bottomless over the doctor’s knee, snarling and spitting insults.

Darius had gleefully added to the boy’s count with every curse that fell from his lips. He hadn’t succeeded in making him cry, as was typically the goal for the first punishment of one of his brats, but eventually, the boy had wised up enough to fall silent. He remembers his body, rigid over the alpha’s knee, trembling with rage as he fought to keep quiet. The best part had yet to come.

“You may get up now, Alexander.” Darius said, having delivered the final blow. 

The omega rose, glaring daggers into the alpha’s face, and reached for his waistband.

“Trousers do not come up yet.” Darius corrected, reveling in the shock that crossed the boy’s face as he spoke. “We apologize, first.”

Alexander’s eyes darted between the alpha and his trousers. Then, he shrugged.

“Sorry.” He chirped, noncommittal, and continued to pull his pants up. Darius snorted.

“We have a specific way of apologizing here, Alexander.” He explained. “If those trousers make their way around your waist before I’m finished, you are going to get another sixty, young man.”

Alexander winced, and dropped his trousers.

“That’s a good boy.” Darius  praised. “I want you to kneel in front of me, and apologize for what you did wrong, Alexander. Can you do that?”

The boy’s lip curled upwards into a snarl, and he stood frozen in front of the alpha, glaring.

“Kneel, or take another sixty, Alexander.” Darius said. “It’s your choice.”

With a growl, the boy dropped to his knees, glaring up at the alpha.

“I’m sorry.” He spat.

“What are you sorry for, Alexander?” 

The boy rolled his eyes shamelessly.

“Swearing.” He said.

“Using profanity.” Darius affirmed. “And what else?”

Alexander shrugged.

“Disobedience.” The doctor answered. “For not laying across my lap when told. What else, Alexander?”

“Beats me.” He muttered. Darius smiled warmly.

“We’re missing a pretty big one, Alexander.”

“There is nothing else I feel I need to apologize for, Dr. Vinter.” The boy replied, a faux-innocence to his tone.

“Nothing at all?” The doctor probed, meeting the boy’s humor. “Nothing that happened downstairs?”

“As I remember it, my actions downstairs were entirely reasonable, Dr. Vinter.” The boy replied. “May I go now?”

Darius snorted.

“Margaret is a brat, a bully, and a constant annoyance, Alexander.” He said. “She is one of the most difficult students I’ve ever had, and you are not the only one here who dislikes her. You are still not allowed to become violent with your peers, or anyone else, for that matter.”

“She was begging for it.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Darius replied. “And we still do not solve our problems with violence. I told you only moments before to come to me if you needed help, did I not?”

Alexander snorted.

“‘We do not solve our problems with violence.’” He muttered, mimicking the doctor. “We tattle instead, so Dr. Vinter can do it.”

“Smart aleck, aren’t you?” Darius muttered fondly. “If you aren’t ready to apologize, I will happily bring you back over my knee.”

Alexander groaned.

“What was it you wanted me to say?”

Darius sighed.

“Repeat after me, Alexander.” He instructed. “‘I’m sorry, Alpha, for using profanity, being disobedient, and using violence against my peers.”’

“Was only one peer.” Alexander muttered.

“I’m starting to lose my patience, Alexander.”

The boy groaned.

“I’m sorry, Alpha, for using profanity, being disobedient, and using violence against only one peer.” He droned, voice flat as though he was reciting meaningless rote. “That's good, yeah?”

“Acceptable.” The doctor replied. “If I return you to the parlor, are you going to behave?”

“So long as everyone else does.”

“If it’s not a yes, we can see how you feel after that extra sixty.” Dr. Vinter offered. “Never too late to add more.”

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut and sighed.

“I’ll be good, okay?” He responded. “She’d just better stay away from me.”

Darius had sighed.

“I will try to keep her away from you for the remainder of the night.” He said. “But she is likely going to make it her goal to remain a thorn in your side. Her behavior cannot dictate your actions, Alexander, and if they do, you will not be spared from punishment.”

Alexander didn’t respond, gaze cast toward the window. Lightning flashed outside.

“Are you going to behave if I return you to the parlor, Alexander?” Dr. Vinter pressed. “Yes or no?”

The boy rolled his head back to look at the alpha.

“Yes.” He groaned.

“Yes, alpha.” Vinter corrected, and Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Yes, Alpha.” He chirped, snarking brightly. “If you, alpha, return me to the parlor, alpha, I, alpha, will behave, alpha.”

Darius smiled warmly.

“I’m happy to hear it, Alexander.” He said, rising. “You may pull up your trousers, now.”

The boy rose and tugged his waistband back into place. He followed Darius down the stairs, sulking the entire time.

“Okay, Margaret.” Drarius sighed, leading the boy into the parlor. Then, he stopped short, looking around.

“Where did Gabriel go?”

“Shot up the stairs like a bullet as soon as you left.” Robin snorted from behind a comic book, seated on the floor. He grinned up at the doctor, bright red curls falling into his face, and added. “Trembling, all the while.”

“What is that guy’s problem?” Tom asked from the loveseat, a sketchbook spread over his lap. “He acts like we're wild dogs, like we’re gonna maul him, unprovoked.”

“He is anxious.” The doctor replied gently. “He’s had trouble adjusting.”

“What’s he got to be anxious about?” Collin had asked from behind the thin, round frames of his glasses. “He’s just as crazy as the rest of us, right?” 

Darius had snorted.

“None of you are crazy, Collin.” He replied. “You all know exactly what you’re doing.”

“He’s a pussy.” David replied flatly, flipping through a novel on the couch. “Call it what it is.”

The doctor tutted.

“David, you have just found yourself at three.”

“What? No I haven’t.” The boy replied, looking up with wide, brown eyes. Freckles were splashed across his nose like stars in the night sky. “I only had one, from being late for breakfast.”

“You and Tom each received another for rough housing in the halls before class.” Darius reminded.

David threw his head back, groaning.

“You’re not really gonna count that, are you?” He asked. “He was in on it. We were playing, not fighting.”

“There is a time and place for playing, David, and it is not in the halls of my school while waiting for class.” The doctor scolded. “Perhaps it’s not wise to play this game, using your warnings right up to a punishment.”

“Don’t know what you’re crying about.” Tom snorted, scratching into his sketchbook with a pencil. “The rough housing was three, for me.”

“It was six, if you want to be specific.” The doctor corrected.

“Only goes to three.” Tom replied, grinning. “Can’t count any higher, can you, Doc?”

Darius hummed.

“We could make it seven right now. Couldn’t we, Tom?”

“Doesn’t matter until it gets to nine.” the boy replied with a shrug.

“Then seven it is.”

Samantha spoke up then, tucking her long, tawny brown hair behind her ear.

“I’m gonna save mine up one day.” She mused, hazel eyes narrowed at the doctor. “Then cuss you out and go to bed.”

Darius snorted.

“I think I would call that an automatic consequence, Samantha.”

“Swear word’s one warning a piece.” She replied. “That’s what it’s always been.”

“Consequences are given at my own discretion.”

“You couldn’t cuss him out with only two.” Robin said. “You can’t cuss somebody out and only swear twice. You need like five or six.”

Collin laughed at that.

“Where do you think the line is, exactly?” He asked. “Between cussing somebody out, and just cussing.”

“You’d need twenty or thirty to do it right.” Tom said.

“I think it’s more about the ratio.” Samantha argued. “Like one cuss word for every three regular words.”

“Three cuss words for every one regular word.” Robin countered.

“It becomes hard to form a coherent sentence if you overdo it.” David snarked.

“In any case, none of you are going to be able to test these theories for a while, are you?” The doctor mused.

“I think maybe it would work on my last day.” Samantha said thoughtfully, ignoring the doctor’s comment. “‘Cause then what are you gonna do? My alpha would be coming for me. The two of you would have to duke it out for yourselves, and I could probably just walk out the door. Let you guys fight, and I go get a slurpee from seven-eleven.”

“That kind of optimism could see you through many a rainy day, Samantha.” The doctor grinned.

“Sammy.” She corrected sharply. “No one calls me that but you.”

“Me, and the state of Maryland.” He replied. “Alright, enough. Come along, Margaret.”

Margaret followed the doctor up the stairs, chattering all the while.

“I don’t know what happened, doctor.” She began, faux-shock in her voice. “We was just talkin’, and then he was on top of me.”

“‘We were just talking.’” the doctor corrected flatly.

“Maybe he’s sick or something.” she said. “Like a psychopath.”

The doctor only hummed in response.

“Or maybe it’s, like, sexual for him.” She said, wrinkling her nose in put-upon disgust. “Like he likes me or somethin’”

“Margaret.” The doctor said, tone soft but firm, as they reached the top of the stairs. “Please feel free to prattle on this way, if you feel you must. It’s got to bring you some kind of benefit, or you wouldn’t do it so often. All I ask is that you let me know if you intend to say anything that is actually true, alright?”

The girl’s expression soured, then her eyes caught something behind the doctor.

“Is that Gabriel?” she asked.

The doctor cast his gaze down the hall to see Gabriel, features obscured by the darkness, sitting on the floor against his bedroom door, long legs bent at the knee. His head was dropped between his shoulders, gaze pointed at the floor. Darius turned to Margaret.

“You are to sit in the armchair and wait for me.” He said, turning her towards his office by the shoulders. “And you are not to move from there the entire time. Are we clear?”

“Yes, alpha.” She droned, and Darius watched her make her way to the chair and sit before he closed the door.

Then, he made his way down the hall.

“Alright, Gabriel.” He said softly. “It’s time to go back downstairs.”

The omega looked up with wide, blue eyes, then dropped his head to look at the floor once more. He said nothing, and made no move to rise from his spot. Darius sighed.

“You know,” He said, lowering himself to sit at the boy’s side. “If it were any other student, ignoring a direct order like that would be an automatic consequence, and a severe one. That would make only your second, wouldn't it?”

The omega let out a stuttering sigh, and peered up at the doctor sideways.

“Let’s talk, Gabriel.” Darius said gently.

“Not much to say.” Gabriel muttered. “Said it downstairs. I just want to go to my room.”

“You were about to tell me downstairs,” The doctor countered. “Before we were interrupted. What are you afraid is going to happen?”

Gabriel searched the doctor’s face, then dropped his gaze back to the floor, grimacing.

“Do you think they’re going to hurt you?” Darius pressed. “You know I wouldn’t let them, Gabriel.”

The boy snorted.

“With all due respect, I could take any of them with a hand behind my back.” He replied.

“Then what is it?”

“It’s that we’re not allowed to fight!” The boy exclaimed. “So what am I supposed to do if they mess with me?”

“Ah.” The doctor said, realization hitting him. “You’re afraid of getting picked on by the others, then? Made fun of?”

The boy tilted his head from side to side.

“I’m not like the rest of them.” He said. “I can’t think of that smart aleck shit on the spot like that, but I can fight.”

“Two, Gabriel. Be very careful.” the doctor warned.

The boy exhaled.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“You know you can come to me for help if you need it, Gabriel.” Dr. Vinter said gently.

Gabriel snorted.

“That’s your plan to not get picked on?” He balked. “Tattling?”

“I do also hear most of what goes on in this house.” He replied. “If I hear anyone say something that I think crosses a line into bullying, I will stop them.”

Gabriel tilted his head from side to side again, considering. The doctor took in breath, and continued.

“You are right, however, that the others will likely attempt to get under your skin.” He said softly. “Playfully at times, and hurtfully at others. You could consider this an opportunity to learn another method of defending yourself, one that doesn’t involve violence.”

“Violence has worked pretty well so far.”

“It also landed you here.” The doctor pointed out.

The boy had shrugged, tilting his head from side to side.

“You’re right.” He muttered.

“I often am.”

Gabriel sighed.

“I just feel like they all hate me.” He said. “We have nothing in common.”

Darius snorted.

“You have not spoken to any of them for more than five minutes, Gabriel.” He said. “It’s true that your upbringing is different from the other students, but you cannot claim they hate you before you have even spoken to them. You would probably be surprised with how much you have in common with them, if you gave them a chance.”

Gabriel nodded, but said nothing, gaze cast down to the floor.

“Are we ready to go downstairs?” Darius probed. “I won’t tell the others I let you off easy if you don’t”

Gabriel laughed.

“Alright.” He sighed, rising, “Thank you, Dr. Vinter. I’ll be good.”

Darius watched the boy make his way down the staircase until he was out of view. Then he made for his office.

“Alright, Margaret.” He sighed, opening the door. 

The girl fixed her posture as he entered, sitting up from her slouched position, and Darius made his way to his desk.

“Would you like to tell me what you said to him, Margaret?” Darius asked, taking his seat.

“Nothin’, Doc!” The girl exclaimed, giving her blonde curls a shake. “I was just bein’ friendly, and he attacked me.”

“Margaret.” Darius said flatly, and the girl hustled to compensate for the doctor’s distrust.

“Or, I don’t think I said anything.” She amended. “Maybe it was a misunderstandin’. He’s foreign, you know.”

Darius snorted. He said nothing.

“I mean maybe I said somethin’ by accident.” She said, trying her luck. “Somethin’ that’s normal here, but he took it wrong.”

“Like what?” Darius asked, unconvinced.

“Oh, I dunno.” She said, blue eyes wide and darting around the room. “Did he say I said somethin’?”

Darius sighed, running a hand over his face. He checked his watch.

“Alright, Margaret, it’s nearly time for bed.” He said slowly. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or shall we simply get your punishment over with?”

“I already told you.” She doubled down. “He just jumped on top of me. I didn’t do nothin’.”

Darius exhaled, holding onto his composure.

“Very well.” He said, rising. He made his way to the armless, red chair. “If you don’t want to tell the truth, I will simply give you sixty, the same as Alexander. Sound fair?”

The girl caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

“But I didn’t do nothin’.” She persisted, voice small.

“Are you going to comply, or do I have to come get you?”

Margaret swallowed, rising from her seat, and removed her skirt.

Margaret always began crying as soon as she could manage, aiming to shorten her punishment as much as possible. Darius always kept swats even in harshness throughout her entire spanking, to show her that it wouldn’t work. She often squirmed, but rarely swore or kicked like the others, and had never attempted to hurt the doctor. Darius only wished she could behave as well in any other circumstance.

“Alright, Margaret.” He said, having delivered the last blow. “It’s over, you may stand.”

Margaret rose, then dropped to her knees, not waiting to be asked.

“I’m sorry, alpha.” She said. 

“Sorry for what?”

The girl hesitated.

“For provoking your peers.” Darius balked, shaking his head in disbelief. “And lying, Margaret.”

“I swear, I-

“Lie to me again and take another sixty.” Darius snapped. “I am not stupid, Margaret.”

Her gaze dropped to the floor.

“I’m sorry for provoking my peers and lying, Alpha.” She said softly.

“Good girl.” Darius sighed, rising. “Now stop doing it.”

Darius led the girl into the hall, then addressed her, pointing towards the dorms.

“Wait by your bedroom door.” He instructed. “The others will be up for bed shortly, and I promised Alexander I would keep you away from him for the rest of the night.”

The girl ducked her head, and nodded, making her way down the hall. Darius descended the stairs.

“Alright.” He exhaled, as he entered the parlor. He checked his watch. “And that makes bedtime, doesn’t it? Single file up the stairs.”

Eight omegas ascended the stairs, one by one. Darius caught David by shoulders as he passed, pulling him sideways out of line.

“Not you, David.” He said. “You owe me a chat in my office, don’t you?”

David hunched his shoulders, shrinking in his spot, and Darius marched him up the stairs after the others, a hand perched on the back of his neck.

“Wait for me in the armchair.” He told him, directing him through his office door.

“Yes, sir.” David muttered as the alpha made his leave.

Darius made his way down the hall to the dorms and pulled the ring of keys from his pocket. He started at the far end, Alexander’s room, and opened it with a turn of the key.

“You’ve got the single, Alexander, lucky you.” He said dryly. “Your clothes are in the dresser, but I’m afraid your books will have to wait until tomorrow, when the day staff can go through them, since you brought so many.”

Alexander doesn’t reply, walking through the door.

“Then it’s Collin and David.” Darius continued, unlocking the next door. “David will be joining you shortly, Collin.”

Collin responded with a snicker, and entered his dorm.

“Gabriel and Joshua.” Darius said, and unlocked the next door. “Finally that time, Gabriel.”

Joshua, a short boy with light brown skin and dark, coiled hair, stood at the doctor’s side with his eyebrows raised. He held his hands in front of him with his fingertips facing the doctor, a few inches apart, palms facing each other. Then, he brings them together, drawing them closer to himself and orients his fingertips towards the ceiling: the sign for “request.” 

“What is it, Joshua?” Darius asked.

“Laundry,” He signed. “Need to get.” 

“Go ahead.” Darius replied. “It should still be unlocked.”

“Thank you.” The boy signed, and turned to make his way down the stairs.

“Samantha and Margaret.” Darius continued, and unlocked the next door.

“Tell Maggie not to use all the hot water tonight.” Samantha sneered, eyes narrow. Margaret sneered right back.

“You’ve just told her yourself.” Darius responded dryly. “But do try to be considerate of your roommates, and that goes for everyone.”

With that, the girls disappeared into their room, where a hushed argument initiated as soon as the doctor was out of sight. Darius sighed.

“And last is Robin and Tom.” Darius finished, and opened the final door. 

“Why does the new kid get the single if I’ve been here the longest?” Tom asked.

“Because when I find a dorm configuration that is anything less than catastrophic I tend to be reluctant to change it.” Darius snorted. “You and Robin get along just fine, Tom.”

“He snores.” Tom replied flatly.

“Well, you talk in your sleep.” Robin retorted. “In Japanese.”

“I do?” Tom asked. “What do I say?”

Robin shrugged.

“I just said it was in Japanese, dude.” He laughed. “How would I know?”

“Bed, boys.” Darius instructed. “You can have this conversation in your room.”

The pair disappeared behind their door, and Darius made his way to his office for a final time.

“Alright, David, your turn.” Darius yawned as he made his way to his desk.

David sat, fidgeting, in the arm chair. A guilty smile tugged on his lips.

“Would you care to explain your language downstairs?” Darius asked, leaning his chin on one hand. David exhaled a laugh, breathy and nervous.

“I thought it would be funny, sir.” He said, sheepish.

Darius hummed. “And was it?”

“Collin thought it was.” David replied. “But it definitely doesn’t seem as funny now.”

Darius snorted.

“It seems like every time you get in trouble, Collin’s name comes up sooner or later.”

David shook his head.

“No, sir, I chose to do it.” He replied. “It’s my fault.”

Darius tapped his fingers on the desk.

“What happened in the parlor?” He asked. “When I was upstairs with Alexander?”

David shrugged, shoulders knit close to his ears.

“I mean, not a lot.” He answered. “Gabriel ran upstairs, and the rest of us mostly just talked about that.”

“And what did you say?”

“Just that we don’t get what his problem is.”

“And who called him a pussy?”

“Coll-” David began, then stopped short, eyes wide.

“A colleague of mine.” He corrected, earning a snort from the doctor. “And another colleague may have suggested that someone say it in front of you, to see how you would react.”

“And you volunteered because you thought you were only at one?” Darius guessed.

David fidgeted.

“I’m not at liberty to say.” He replied.

“Need to discuss it with your colleagues first?”

“Don’t I have a right to legal counsel?” David snarked.

“Not here.” Darius replied. “You shouldn’t let them influence you, David. You’ll wind up staying here even longer.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” David replied. “How many is this?”

Darius tapped a pen on the desk, upright.

“Let’s see.” He mused. “Profanity is five, and roughhousing is another five. What was one for again?” 

”Being late for breakfast.” David answered.

“Yes, that’s right.” Darius replied. “You get one every day for being late to breakfast, don’t you? The same as Collin. What are you boys doing every morning?”

“Trying to find his glasses.” David responded.

“It takes you thirty full minutes to find Collin’s glasses with two sets of eyes?”

“Only one set of eyes, sir.” David replied. “Because Collin doesn’t have his glasses.”

Darius had laughed at that one.

“He wouldn’t lose them if he set them on the nightstand.” He said, and David snorted in reply.

“I’ve told him that.” He said. “But he falls asleep in them every night, and we find them somewhere new every morning.”

“In any case,” Darius sighed, rising and making his way to the armless chair. “Tardiness is one for every minute. You’ve earned forty, David. Come here, please.”

David always complied beautifully, and almost never argued.Trousers removed, he lay himself over Darius’s lap, and braced himself against the carpeted floor with shaky arms. Darius exhaled, rubbing circles on the boy’s back.

“Deep breaths, David.” He said softly. “You’ve done it before.”

“But it never gets any easier.” David replied, voice small.

“An incentive to behave, perhaps?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll try.”

Darius delivered the smacks quickly, and by the end, David trembled in his lap. When released, the boy stood, drawing in shaky breaths, with his arms wrapped around himself just beneath his ribs. Then, he dropped to his knees. Tears shone in his brown eyes.

“I’m sorry for using profanity, being tardy, and rough housing, sir.” He said softly, gaze cast to the floor. Darius gently lifted his chin.

“‘Alpha’ during a punishment, David.” He tutted. “Not ‘sir.’ Try again.”

David exhaled a breathy laugh.

“I always do that.” He whispered. Then, he cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I’m sorry for using profanity, being tardy, and rough housing, Alpha.”

“Good boy.” Darius said softly. “Would you like a hug, David?” 

David dropped his gaze, chewing his bottom lip. Slowly, he nodded.

“Come here, then.” Darius said, and rose from his seat, arms outstretched.

The boy folded readily into the doctor’s arms, and Darius pulled him close. 

“I know you’re a good boy, David.” Darius murmured, and released the boy. “I would like you to act like it.”

“Yes, sir.” David said softly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Darius checked his watch.

“You’ve got about five minutes before lights out, David.” He said. “Your room is unlocked. Hurry, so you can get ready for bed.”

David redressed himself quickly and made for bed; and with that, the doctor’s day was done, for the most part. He collapsed into his desk chair to enjoy the five minutes of solitude available before he had to go back to the dorms and announce lights out. 

And Darius Vinter was excited to do it all again the next day. 

[queenmeriadoc]

12 and 17 for the OC asks <3

12. In 5 words or less, what are your character’s opinions on ikea?

Ensign Sol: What is an "ikea"? M. Vinter: It's store that sells furniture, it's great, but I prefer thifted things. Merry, who lives in Middle Earth: At least you acces to one.

17. What is your muse’s favourite Taylor Swift era?

Merry: Speak Now, I just love it. M. Vinter: Lover, obviously. Ensign Sol, who is from the future: Just you wait for the Reputation (Taylor's Version), especially the vault songs, they are epic.

OC asks

[allthatisleftinthedark]

"Sino...Can I ask what you find attractive about me? I mean...I'm curious. Plus, you know, I did just tell you what I thought was attractive about you. Albeit, in a more precise fashion."

He's just curious. It feels like this is a better step to go off of, though he's already outed himself as thinking about kissing her.

unprompted asks | always accepting | @offrozenmemoirs

The instant Seraph chokes on his drink is the moment the elf witnesses Sino's famously large and mischievous smile on her face. The corners of her lips curl wider, reveling in the abrupt plunge of his composure. In eight words and less, the lancer unravels! Unhooking her thumbs from her pants, she rests her hands on the generous arch of her body that was wisely noted by Seraph. 

Her airy and playful laughter gives way as her dulled yellow eyes watch his expression morph. In her focused observation, his lips tuck into his mouth, his eyes skittering away. Yet a residual courage emerges as their gazes meet once more. Unaddressed matters, which Sino wryly dubs "complications," lay bare as the door to its secret was pried from its hinges to reveal the truth behind it. Almost emerging, unresolved, and unwelcome feelings peek from the enshrouded room. 

With the minstrel, her banter serves as a buffer, a deflective dance that evades the blatant while retaining the balance of the comfortable knowing that stays unspoken. As carefully as she navigates one, as she does with the man of the cloth. Words quieter yet with a sharper edge, she speaks to him softer with undeniable care. Aiding him to navigate through his legitimate grief and rancor, the gnome had always fashioned a seat beside him. She clutches that strategy close to her heart. 

No life is sweeter than the one lived now. To be consumed by rage, then emptied and hollowed, is not to live at all.

As Seraph hides behind his hands, coughing, the room settles into a long silence. His eyes search for the Elven absinthe, the embarrassment still making him quench. Sino is all too familiar with the sensation and has a memory attached to it. Instead of a lavish hotel room with only one bed to spare, there is a bed of snow and the low crackles of an outside fireplace. Her gaze softens, drifting back to the bitter cold that bit her fingertips and the flickering shadows of the fire's glow. 

Back to the Lenoir manor, a haven in the snow. 

Watching the snowfall tucked away in the barren outdoor gardens of Lenoir Manor, Sino was Seraph's rock. As the elf shares their confidence, the gnome's initial thought comes: How fortunate you are to see this world! His countenance wilts; the imprints of a hand are still fresh on his neck. Do not rob yourself of the chance to see a world so new to you; I do not want you to miss out on so much you missed. She recalls the vulnerable slump of his shoulders and the underlying fear of a boy's helplessness. Ironic, as at that point, he walked among Pharasma's servants, entities seemingly above a mortal concept. 

Seraph De Vinter is anything but fragile. Every month since joining the party, he has been besieged with earth-shattering trials. It began with the alteration and concealment of his memories and the realization of his falsified childhood. Then came the dawning of his existence as a spirit, not an elf. Now, he questions trust, love, and fidelity from his confidants. What awaits on the horizon is the impending confrontation about the circumstances that robbed and hid his past and the one responsible—the one who orchestrated it—the man, his own father.

Silent talks and a night of debauchery helped mitigate the catastrophe upon catastrophe that seemed to be in the form of champions of balance. Liquor-heavy in the brain, Sino finally sat alongside someone from her party for the first time after a great tragedy. Still more cognizant than the deathwatcher, she looked at the stage and the miserable, foreboding presence lingering over their shared table. With the band barely touching their instruments and Millicent towel-drying the tankards, she pushed herself from the table, glancing at Seraph before heading to the stage. 

Ignora was saved, and it was no pyrrhic victory. Another breath to have is another minute to live. Life may continue again. The details of the night blur, but some details stand. She recalls speaking to a pianist at the bar, exuberantly speaking in Nihiranian with her parse verbiage. She folded her coat and removed her shoes, putting them on the side of the stage. The waves moved her around the place, her arms following her as she serpentined. Other patrons perk their heads up before clapping along, even being helped on the stage by Sino. 

Almost white eyes looked at her. Seraph. She saw the invitation and pulled him on stage. 

'Let me show you...'

They danced and danced the night away.

The laughter fades, and Sino's eyes return to the here and now, again meeting Seraph's. She blinks; her grasp on reality weaves her back to the present. Sober and somber to delighted and drunk, each memory sharing the same feeling as before: liberation. 

Screw your head on right! All he asked about was what made him attractive. Figure out something to say without all of that vomiting out. It's about physicality, not how he makes your insides feel warm and squishy. Mind not the fact he just stated crush! No! 

"Honestly, I might echo things you would've heard from Soup." Sino rubs the back of her neck, her back facing Seraph. As much as she attempts to conceal herself, the mirror is an unwitting conspirator, revealing her secrets. In the glass, he would see her gaze downwards, staring at the floor, and her brows furrow together in contemplative fixation. Lips parted once as if to reveal more, only to press together—a silent struggle as she sifted through her thoughts, piecing together something that needed deliberation and extensive planning. 

"By the hells, I am now guilty of repeating you, but you're undeniably attractive. It's beyond being charming. Time and time again, so many people have liked you. Something deeper and more intrinsic to who you are draws people like moths to a flame. They can't help but notice those big, broad shoulders, bright blue eyes, and that composure that comes naturally from you. Then there's something else—something more. They come actually to learn of you." Sino slowly reaches for the end of her ponytail. Her gloved fingers twirl a lock around her index finger.

"Everyone sees the depth of your sentiment beneath that steel and stoicism. Not everyone notices, but I see how your ears give you away—they vibrate slightly with excitement or flatten when you're bashful." Her voice softens; one could hear the corner of her lips turning upright. "...like what happened minutes ago. Though I'm fairly sure you're aware of that by now." 

Her other hand reaches her hips as she shakes her head. "For someone set on initiating and beginning things, which I greatly relate to, you have a remarkable way to keep things stationary. I struggle with connecting to the day-to-day, yet you embrace it wholeheartedly. You reach out decisively with what you want to do." 

"And when you commit to something, you stand unwaveringly by your word. It's no coincidence that the Lady of Death picked you, out of all of her devotees, to join the ranks of the Deathwatchers. She recognized your strength—those shoulders built to bear weighty burdens—and decided not to waste the opportunity to use them. And," Sino pauses, a note of playful teasing entering her voice. "Soup's rather well-acquainted with their sturdiness, isn't he?" 

Unrestrained laughter fills the space between them. "Haha! You know, it's remarkable—nobody ever doubts your word. No one questions your actions. You exude an air of genuineness that I don't have," her voice meanders, "that I can't have." Though high, the mirth in her voice is tinged with bittersweetness with each last and upcoming word. "Is it such an odd comment if I say you're so utterly authentic? You're so in touch with everything and connect with the world, especially with how new you are to it." 

Sino's attention drifts away, her fingers absentmindedly combing through the tips of her hair. In the mirror, sorrow shines in her eyes. Undeniable melancholy festers, and she murmurs. 

"By the gods, you're too good for me." 

[princesssarcastia]

in this land of milk and honey, we're too shy to say we're thirsty

here, have 1.5k of fic i just wrote about mission: impossible: rogue nation.  AU of the scene where Ethan Hunt wakes up a captive of the Syndicate, where Ilsa Faust gets to run the interrogation the way she wants to, instead of being interrupted by the Bone Doctor.  title from “Little Mercy,” by Doomtree. read it on ao3 here.

“What Vinter and the rest of his stupid ilk never realize is that torture doesn’t work, especially on their own kind.  Pain is cheap.”

-

Ilsa grabs her tools by rote memory, uninterested in taking any care in the work she’s about to do. This isn’t the first time she’s worked someone over for Lane, and it won’t be the last time; she needs to stay numb to it, numb here in the moment and numb after his latest acquisition bends and twists, numb when she has to stand there in the aftermath as the others move in to take what they want from him, numb to the part of her that wants to perk up at the praise following a job well done.

The door groans under its own weight when the guards push it open for her, and she sees the man tense ever so slightly where he’s tied to the post.  Conscious, then, but not quite awake.  Her heels click in the silence after the door slams shut. 

She leaves the lights off; the shadows help, sometimes, with some agents.  Paired with the right kind of drugs, the right kind of touch, darkness can add a dreamlike quality to an already intimate process.  People like them feel safer in the dark.

This one is dangerous. Lane wouldn’t take such a personal interest if he wasn’t.  So, she slips off her shoes, sets them on the table with her tray and her jacket, unbuttons the top button of her shirt and rolls up her sleeves.

Ilsa turns around and—

He’s awake now.

He’s staring at her.

She stares right back.

The moment yawns and stretches between them, arching languidly.  Ilsa breathes in sharply, quietly, and takes a step toward him, still caught on his eyes—although the rest of him is hardly a chore to examine. 

He doesn’t move, focused intently on her.  Assessing. Calculating.  It feels—it feels a little like when Lane looks at her, like he’s cataloguing her expressions and picking apart the things that make her tick.  But it doesn’t make her want to curl up and hide when this man does it. 

“Nice shoes.”

Ilsa blinks, then quirks her brow, amused.  That’s a new one.  

“American intelligence, yes?”  A soft opener. 

He tilts his head, silent, but clearly not buying that she doesn’t already know.

“But not the CIA,” she continues, moving closer in even steps.  “No, you have too much personality for that, I can already tell.”

Now he’s amused, letting his lips twitch, but he keeps his silence.  She starts turning his reactions in her mind, letting her gaze fall over the whole of him to catch them all.  This one is a talker; she just needs to get him started.  And stop getting distracted by his eyes.  There’s something about them that draws her attention, but Ilsa can’t figure out what.

“How long have you worked for the IMF?”  She stops well outside of his reach but still close enough to see his chest rise and fall minutely with each breath.  If she focuses, she imagines she might be able to see it twitch with the beating of his heart.

“How long did you work for British intelligence, before you turned traitor?”  He fires back.  Right on the money.  Not that it’s a difficult guess, given where he is and how she speaks.

“Twenty years,” she says calmly, and watches him mentally turn on a dime, reassessing.  “They recruited me right of secondary school. I imagine it was much the same for you. Sometimes, they catch people later, but MI6 knows how to recognize a good asset in the making fairly early.”

Ilsa takes a step closer. “The agency was my whole life.  It consumed all my time and energy.  My waking hours and my sleeping ones.  And I was…eager to please.  An excellent agent, willing and capable of doing anything they asked of me.  It was hard, sometimes, but in the end it was worth it because I knew everything I was doing was for queen and country.  The greater good,” she adds, letting her mouth twist wryly. 

He watches her for a moment, and she lets him, lets the silence sit, lets it build.  It’s an obvious enough cue, and he’s curious enough now to take the bait.  He wants her talking as much as she wants him talking, neither of them in control nor sure they have the upper hand, yet. 

“What changed,” he asks finally, and Ilsa’s gaze catches on his eyes again.

“I woke up,” Ilsa takes three steps to her left, changing the angle of approach.  “I realized, one day, that I only thought I was fighting for the right side because it’s what I chose to believe.  None of my experiences actually supported that conclusion.

“Have you ever killed an innocent person, Ethan?”  She doesn’t wait for his answer.  “I know I have.  On accident, sure, as an unintended casualty of my mission; but on purpose, too.  Sometimes it was the mission.  To make things easier for MI6, for my handler, for England.  For their convenience.”

Now he shifts, the cuffs on his wrists and ankles clinking.  He doesn’t respond, but she can see it in his eyes.  He has.  Of course he has.  No one in their line of work hasn’t. 

That fact of life actually bothers him, unlike Lane and the rest of the men here.  The same way it bothers her when she forgets to be numb.

She knows what it is in his eyes, now, that’s pulling at her attention. 

His eyes are kind.  He looks kind. 

It’s impossible. 

“I realized I was only loyal to them because of a lie I was telling myself.  And that loyalty certainly wasn’t returned.  The agency doesn’t exist to care for its agents, it exists to use them up until there’s nothing left.  How many times did they leave me out in the cold, dangling in the wind, to survive or die under nothing more than my own ability?”

“That’s the job,” he says, with a hint of condescension.  It grates.  He probably means it to.

“That doesn’t make it right, the way they treated me.  The way your government treats you.”  

His eyes shift.  He knows her game, now, has mapped out the path she wants to take, the weak spots she’s aiming for.  The muscles in his limbs tense and relax minutely, imbued with the strength of surety, surety that what she’s trying to do won’t work. 

But his faith in himself is misplaced, because now she can tell he hasn’t realized yet that what she’s saying is true.  He’s like her, two, five years ago: unable to value his own life.  What his handlers do to him doesn’t matter because he doesn’t matter; you can’t hurt someone if they don’t see themselves as person capable of being hurt.  It’s fine if they use you because you’re letting them.  You’re a tool; if you’re not being used, then what’s the point of you?

The truth is, it does matter.  It does hurt them.  And they only let themselves be used because the right people broke them at the right time, cracking them wide open to let someone else in to twist them into knots.

Truth will out.  It’s more powerful than people like them, steeped in lies and deception, ever expect, which is why Ilsa is so fond of using it.

Faster than the eye can properly see, she lunges for him, sinking her needle into the meat of his bicep and depressing the plunger.  Too quick for him to stop, although he pulls his legs up to kick her in the chest and send her sprawling.

Truth will out.  But of course, the drugs help. 

His kind eyes blink rapidly, then slowly, clearly tensing to try and fend off unconsciousness that isn’t coming.  Oh, it won’t knock him out.  Unconscious is no use to her.  But it’ll ease the way for the truth; make him more pliant, more sociable, more open to suggestion. 

What Vinter and the rest of his stupid ilk never realize is that torture doesn’t work, especially on their own kind.  Pain is cheap.  Their bodies are disposable, their lives are disposable.  Ethan Hunt would happily die for the IMF, for the greater good, probably even for his fellow agents.  He’s a fighter, this one.  He’ll die before they break him. 

But if Ilsa can lay the truth of their lives out in front of him in ways he can understand, it will plant seeds of doubt his lived experiences can’t help but nurture.  Doubt is more dangerous than pain.  

Ethan Hunt and his kind eyes will never work for Solomon Lane, not after Lane shot that poor woman in the head in front of him.  Not after Lane made him feel helpless—and she’s sure Lane did, it’s his favorite way to make people feel, and he’s spectacularly good at it.  

She just needs to make sure Ethan doesn’t work against them.  Finding the ways his handlers have made him feel helpless is a good place to start.

Ilsa waits for his pupils to blow wide and his pulse to slow in his chest and neck before she starts. She stays where he put her on the floor, only shifting enough to sit up.

“How long have you worked for the IMF, Ethan?”  She asks softly.

One breath.  Two breaths.  He blinks again, licks his lips.  

 And tells her.

[sirvinter]

i need to post more about my ocs! both art, sketches or just text posts. tag memes are also fun! regardless if others find it interesting or not its fun to share </3

[randoimago]

happy pride month!!

Happy Pride!!

Bout to blast Lady Gaga all month (not that I need a reason to do that~)

If anyone goes to any parades this month then do your best to stay hydrated, I know I will if I can find one that's close and I have that day off! 

Dehydration is homophobic so stay away from that (I'm half joking, seriously guys please drink water)

[iamnotreliableicomeandgo]

[kibo-ichiro]

Okay, well if this is the place to put our AUs of the Second Prince getting closer to Penelope, then here’s mine: for whatever reason (maybe because he is still technically descended from the Golden Dragon?) the Second Prince remembers the time loops. I’d like to preface this by saying that this is less “Second Prince falling in love with Penelope” and more “they become friends but everyone else assumes they’re in a romantic relationship.”

The very first one he experienced was after Penelope died at her coming of age celebration and Callisto goes mad, killing the rest of the Imperial Family. And for all the rumors about Callisto’s brutality, all his mother’s stories about his savage ways and how unfit he is for the throne…the Second Prince doesn’t see a monster when Callisto goes to kill him.

Just a man, finally broken by grief and hopelessness.

Of course, this realization makes the Second Prince very uncomfortable, having been raised to see Callisto as a lunatic. So it’ll take a couple more loops before the Second Prince actually starts to try to look past all the rumors about his brother and see the man. Once he does, and realizes how messed up the Second Queen and Emperor’s treatment of him is, he starts trying to help Callisto in subtle ways (anonymously tipping off Callisto or one of his people about an upcoming assassination attempt, maybe taking on more work so Callisto doesn’t have to deal with so much, etc.) After Callisto meets Penelope in the garden maze, the Second Prince even starts leaving romance novels for Callisto to read since he does remember hearing about his brother’s awful attempts at courting in that first loop lol.

I’m thinking he stays for the Hunting Competition, tries to sabotage the assassination (maybe he only manages to switch out the poison for something that has a well-known antidote? I dunno) but the trial still ultimately happens. He speaks up for Penelope instead of Vinter. Afterwards, when Penelope thanks him for his help, he slips up as they talk and confirms that he remembers the time loops. Penelope is shocked that someone else remembers. They start to share their experiences with each other during Penelope’s stay at the palace (and he is horrified at just how many loops Penelope has lived through). They start planning on how to deal with Leila, but now rumors are flying about how Penelope must have broken up with the Crown Prince to be with his brother. I imagine that Cedric would probably tell Callisto when he’s still pretending to be asleep to get sympathy from Penny, and he just bolts out of that room like “NOT ON MY WATCH.”

That’s all I have for now and this got so long, I’m so sorry

Headcanon #39

[Attention! Non-standard Relationships! The Second Prince/Penelope Eckart] Σ(°ロ°)

After Callisto's return to the empire, the Queen is desperately trying to figure out how to strengthen her position in the palace and elevate her son in the eyes of the nobility. But perfect military campaigns and unquestioning execution of the emperor's orders ruin all her plans to expose the Crown Prince in an awkward light and deprive him of the status of heir.

The Queen decides to take a risky step - to lure Duke Eckart to her side. She understands perfectly well that the Duke will adhere to neutrality, ignore any provocations and take his position, regardless of either side. But this "shield" had a small flaw -the Duke's adopted daughter. There were many rumors about her, and the Crown Prince was head over heels in love with her.

The Queen ordered her son to make a Penelope fall in love. Thereby creating a reason why the Duke would be forced to go over to her side and protect his daughter from the unrequited Crown Prince, who would fall into a deep rage if he found out that the woman he fell in love with had gone to brother.

The Second Prince wants to play with Penelope's heart. He had enough favorites and ladies with whom he dated, so he was sure that a woman like Penelope would instantly melt from his charms. But here's the bad luck - she didn't care about him, his gifts and flirting.

Every time he tried to start a conversation with her and translate it from official to unofficial, Penelope easily waved him off and left.

Not only anger and petty capriciousness grew in the Prince, but also curiosity. Gradually, he begins to fall in love and change, that is, to grow up, leaving the image of a mama's son. He begins to argue with the Queen and tries to take care of Penelope, thereby coming into conflict with Callisto.

[ceo-of-daichi]

heres some random daichi hcs cause..why not?

hes from florida, hes learning french, he would try to play geoguessr but fail misserably, he is allergic to cats but wanted one when he was 7 but when he turned 9 he started liking dogs and got a Chesapeake Bay Retriever, now he has a German Shepherd.

Oooo I can see Daichi being from Florida if he was American actually!!! And he is definitely a dog person! I love these🥺🥺🥺

[octopationaltherapy]

A Vinter Boy Chapters 3 and 4

Original Omegaverse fiction. Alpha/Alpha. Alpha/Omega. Omega/Omega. M/M. M/M/M. Background F/F, M/F, M/M relationships.

Lots and Lots of Spanking

TW: Eating disorders, past sexual abuse, past child sexual abuse

Read on AO3

OR

Asher groans when Darius clicks the light on, and he knew the boy would. It is seven o’ clock. This was the time his boarders had awoken when his school was in session, so it is the time Asher wakes, too.

“Time to get up, Asher.” Darius says dryly and the boy covers his face with a pillow.

“Now, Asher.” Darius warns, and pulls it easily from the boy’s grip.

Asher looks up at him bleary-eyed. A whine breaks from his throat.

“Tired.” He signs and Darius snorts.

“I bet you are.” He replies easily. “Whose fault is that?”

Asher doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls another pillow from the nest in front of the headboard, and uses it to block the light.

“You seem confused, Asher,” Darius says. “So allow me to clear things up. You are going to get out of this bed whether you like it or not, your choice is in whether that happens with or without a spanking.”

Asher pulls the pillow away from his face and looks up at the doctor, one ear raised. 

Really? It’s a question.

“I am serious, Asher.” Darius says simply.

With a groan, the boy tosses the pillow back into the pile and rolls onto his front, stretching his limbs like a dog awoken from a nap. When that is done, he rises from the bed, and looks at Darius expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“Good boy.” Darius praises.

Breakfast is already prepared when the pair arrive in the kitchen: a pot of oatmeal left on the stove to warm. Asher takes his seat at the table without being asked, sitting in a slumped, pouting posture, and Darius fetches a bowl for each of them.

Asher pushes it away when it is set in front of him.

“Half.” Darius says firmly, sliding the bowl back in front of the boy. “Anything less will find you at one.”

The boy picks up his spoon with a huff, and begins to spoon the porridge into his mouth at a snail-creep pace. Darius notes with satisfaction that the food does make it to the boy’s mouth, however.

He is about to take his own seat at the boy’s right when the doorbell rings. Darius checks his watch, and feels disappointment creep into his chest; twelve hours have indeed passed.

“Stay seated and eat while I answer the door.” Darius instructs, and makes for the foyer.

“How was he?” Allison asks when Darius opens the door, foregoing a proper greeting.

“Better than I expected.” Darius answers, voice low to keep the boy from hearing as he leads Allison to the kitchen.

“I knew if anyone could do it, it was gonna be you.” Allison is saying as the pair cross the threshold. She says more, but Darius’s attention is drawn to the inu at the table behind her.

He had been waiting, expectant, for the pair to enter, spoon poised over his bowl of oatmeal. When Allison came into view, a grin spread over his face and his tail began making quiet thumps against the chair’s wooden frame. As Allison speaks, he makes eye contact with Darius and drops his spoon into his bowl, slumping back against his chair to abandon the meal.

“Allison.” Darius says at once, cutting the beta off mid-sentence. “I beg your pardon, but could we please speak privately?”

Allison blinks, caught off guard.

“Sure.” She says. “In the living room or-?”

“On the porch if that’s alright.” Darius answers, and leads the beta out through the french doors on the sidewall of the kitchen.

The air is cool when they step outside, and wet with morning dew. Darius watches The hybrid through the French doors as he speaks.

“What placement have you secured for the boy?” He asks.

Asher is sitting with his arms crossed, head turned away from the pair, but one ear points backward, no doubt listening to their conversation.

“Respite houses.” Allison says flatly.

“And you expect him to stay in the respite house for how long?”

“Not house,” Allison corrects. “Hous-es. I’ve got three lined up to take him, and I’m just hoping that will see him through to Tuesday Morning, so I can spend Monday making calls.”

Vinter watches the boy through the glass panes. His tail begins wagging, gently, at the mention of alternative housing.

“You only need him housed until Tuesday, then?” He asks slowly.

“For now.” Allison replies. “I can’t do anything until the offices open on Monday. I’ve taken the whole day off just to make phone calls.”

Darius watches the boy, whose tail slowly stills. His other ear points backward.

“I don’t think it would be too much trouble to keep the boy until Tuesday morning.” He says. “If it would buy you some time.”

“Really?” Allison asks, voice light and breathy with relief. “Darius, that would be amazing!”

“Just until Tuesday.” Darius reminds. 

“Of course!” Allison agrees readily. “Thank you, Darius, really. It’s such a relief to know he’ll be in good hands until I can figure something out.” 

Asher, in the kitchen, has stilled entirely,  hairs bristled on the back of his neck. He turns his head to look at the pair on the porch, wide-eyed and anxious, in the silence before Darius speaks. 

Darius meets his gaze and smiles, victorious, and the inu drops his gaze to his lap.

“It would be a pleasure to keep the boy a few more days.” He says, still watching him.

“May I ask what brought on this change of heart?” Allison asks, humor in her voice. “Though, I can probably guess.”

“Guess correctly, I’m sure.” Darius snorts. “It happened just after two in the morning. I caught him trying to pick the lock on the front door.”

Allsion snorts.

“Ballsy.” 

“That’s not all.” Darius says, gleeful, turning his head to look at Allison. “He spoke to me!”

The beta’s eyes widen.

“He spoke?” She asks. “You got him to speak?”

“I did!” Darius boasts, ecstatic. “He told me to eat shit and die.”

Allison snorts.

“Before or after you put him over your knee?” She asks.

“During.” Darius replies. “And, honestly, that was the least of it. That boy has a foul mouth.”

Allison laughs.

“Did you get him to apologize?”

“I did.” Darius says. “But not in the typical way. He has periods of echolalia, did you know that?”

“We did not.” Allison answers. “But the insults, that was real speech?”

“I believe so.” Darius says. “Though it’s difficult to tell so early on. I do believe he’s on the spectrum, though.”

“So does everyone else.” Allison snorts. “But we can’t know if he won’t comply.”

“Yes, well.” Darius says, grinning. “In any case, I think we ought to break the news to the boy. He’ll likely be a bit disappointed.”

“Likely.” Allison agrees, and the alpha leads the pair back inside.

“Alright, Asher.” Allison says warmly, and the boy looks up with a jolt, eyes darting between alpha and beta. “Dr. Vinter is going to take care of you for a few more days while I figure out something more permanent, okay? Be a good boy for him.”

The boy’s mouth opens, then closes, as he looks between the pair.

“Is there anything you want to tell me, Asher?” Allison asks with a tilt of the head. Her voice is lilted high and almost sing-song in faux sympathy.

Asher shakes his head.

“Then, I’m off.” She says. “Bye Asher, bye Dr. Vinter.”

“Goodbye Dr. Flowers.” Darius grins, and takes his seat at the head of the table as the beta sees herself out. 

“Finish you breakfast, Asher.” He says, and grins at the miserable way the boy picks up his spoon.

Chapter 3

In those days, Vinter rose at half past five in the morning, and his brats rose at seven. He always rose early, however, for the first breakfast of each boarder he took.

The morning was a treasured time for the doctor. Many thought of him as strict to the point of cruel with his boarders, as delighting in their misery and celebrating the opportunity to discipline them. Such assumptions were not without merit, but Vinter enjoyed doting on his omegas as much as he enjoyed penalizing them- perhaps even more.

Outside the manor walls, it wasn’t known that the doctor prepared all of his omega’s meals from scratch. It wasn’t known that he took note of favorite foods and birthdays, as well as texture aversions and allergies, and planned an ever-changing menu around them. Not even the traditional students, who witnessed the doctor rearing his brats firsthand, who were in the doctor’s charge themselves for three hours a day, five days a week, knew exactly how intricately he nurtured the boarders during their stay at his manor.

The doctor got little time to himself, which made the hour and a half alone in the kitchen even more precious. At times he would play music, low and quiet so as not to disturb the omegas upstairs, who were often fitful sleepers; most often, however, he kept the kitchen quiet and dark, using only the light above the sink to illuminate the room, and enjoyed the stillness of the manor. 

The manor was so rarely still, always buzzing with laughter or yelling or arguments (good-natured or otherwise). There was hardly a calm moment during the day; even when the manor was quiet (and it sometimes even managed to be silent!) it still vibrated with the unease and frustration of teenage omegas, plucked from the lives they once knew and placed into one too rigid for their comfort. 

Vinter wasn’t as heartless as his charges tended to believe. He did pity them, especially in their first weeks. Every boarder was different, but the doctor expected them to be quiet and fidgety when they arrived, the stench of stress following them as they tread from room to room, large, round eyes watching everything around them. At certain times with certain students, it was difficult not to want to comfort them physically, to hold them and scent them in the crook of his shoulder until their heartbeats settled and their pheromones receded; though he knew it would be neither appropriate nor productive.

He poured his affection, instead, into cuisine. Each of his boarders had filled out an interest inventory prior to their stay, and for good measure their parents or guardians had filled one out separately for them as well. It listed favorite foods, favorite colors, hobbies, and interests, as well as things they disliked, or that they were afraid of. He surprised each of them with their favorite breakfast the morning after their first night, and relished the looks on their faces when they, many having come from hospitals or juvenile correction facilities, received the first piece of evidence that Dr. Vinter’s care was different in more ways than one.

Alexander’s interest inventory was blank.

It was returned, with a date and the signature of his foster mother in the bottom corner, but the boy had not answered a single question. Additionally, he had been placed in the home only a week before, so neither of his foster parents were able to answer the questions either. Vinter had thrown his head back and groaned when he’d found it, mirroring the gesture he’d seen hundreds of times in the armchair across from him

The boarders were still tucked into bed, none rose this early. It was an advantage of his alphan biology; the doctor only needed about six hours of sleep each night, while an adult omega needed closer to ten. As adolescents, his boarders’ bodies craved even more, still growing as they were. It was one of the more convenient facts of biology, a holdover from primitive societies wherein alphas served as hunters, betas as gatherers, and omegas cared for children. Omegan bodies were best served by a biphasic sleep cycle; a long sleep at night and then a shorter one midday. This worked well to keep them safe and warm in the homestead with the little ones; and it worked well to keep them out of Vinter’s hair for a few hours of the day so that he could get some work done.

 It was just past four in the morning, the windows were still dark, and Dr. Vinter sat at his desk in his office to plan the day ahead. Alexander’s file lay open in front of him.

 The boy’s file was thick, as was the case for most of his boarders, detailing a history of violence and petty crime dating back to his childhood in England. He’d had a few stays in hospitals, and one in juvenile corrections, but mostly he was handed off from foster home to foster home for infractions that, while bad, warranted neither an intervention from the justice system nor a behavioral health institute. Most often, it was bullying- or, rather, suspected bullying.

The boy was a loner by all accounts, and all of his cohabitants were afraid of him by the end of his first week, wherever he went. The hospitals detailed plenty of physical altercations, but it was often unclear who started them. The corrections facility noted less fights, but made up for it with the contraband found in the boy’s bunk. The foster homes never caught any of it, and were only able to piece together uninformed hypotheses using the accounts of his tight-lipped victims, and the bruises on their skin. With no evidence, he was simply shuffled off to the next one.

These kinds of stories were nothing new to Vinter. Every brat who passed through his care had their own file, filled with stories that ranged from concerning to entertaining. He hadn’t met one he couldn’t tame yet, and found the details of their misdeeds mostly unimportant. He took such care to obtain a piece of the omega’s lives beyond their wrongdoings because without it there was simply nowhere to start. 

His goal, after all, was not simply to extinguish the undesirable behaviors of his wards. He could do so if he wanted, and likely in half the time it took him to rear one of his brats, but it would leave them depressed and afraid- and worse, accepting of whatever conditions found them when they left his care. To properly train an omega, you had to nourish parts of them and prune others. You fed their hearts, their wit, their closely guarded vulnerability, and you kept your sheers sharp enough that they hardly noticed when their anger and cynicism fell from their stalks to the ground. Any connection he could glean from their intake paperwork was an angle to try, something that could be nurtured into an actual relationship; a rapport. Without such a bond, trying to get them to do anything at all was hopeless, or close to it.

Alexander’s file was completely devoid of anything besides transgressions and diagnoses. Darius Vinter was without an opening gambit.

He tapped his fingers on the desk and tried to recall anything he had learned about the boy since meeting him. Excluding his ill-fated argument with Margaret, he hadn’t talked to anyone, though David and Collin had extended an appropriate amount of friendliness and Tom, seated next to him at dinner, had helpfully explained the schedule. He hadn’t seemed afraid, either, which was its own angle to play. Instead, he seemed mostly irritated and withdrawn- and perhaps impatient, as though biding his time until some kind of promised reprieve. His clinical interview hadn’t been much more enlightening, his answers as limited as he could manage around the doctor’s probing. There was an angle, however; solitary and feeble though it were. 

The boy had arrived the night before with three garbage bags of belongings. Clothes filled about half of the first, and the rest was filled by books. Two and a half trash bags filled with books! Vinter had found himself impressed. He had boarded the occasional bookworm, a more quiet type of defiant than he was used to, and always a challenge compared to the more outgoing ones; but he didn’t think he’d ever had a student who lugged such a collection from placement to placement. If there was a place to start, it was within the three garbage bags downstairs.

He’d left them at his desk in the parlor. When the day properly started, a tech would be seated there, and would search through them to ensure that none had been hollowed out to smuggle in contraband while Darius attended his wards. There was no reason he couldn’t take a peek earlier, though.

The bags were tucked under the desk, kept out of sight and hopefully out of mind of the boarders. The first, open and half-empty with the boy’s clothes removed, sat on top of the pile, and Darius reached for it.

He pulled the first book from it, and was pleasantly surprised to find it was a copy of Wuthering Heights. He flipped through it, and found that it was annotated throughout with the boy’s handwriting in blue pen. He paused to read a couple of the notes, and found that they ranged from insightful commentary to childish jokes. He placed it on the desk and reached for the next, which was A Tale of Two Cities, and found its margins to be filled with its own set of annotations in the same blue ink. He reached for the next, and then the next, and then the next.

The boy’s entire collection consisted of classic literature, mostly English. He had the entire bibliography of Dickens, Austen, and the Brontë sisters, including short stories and lesser known works; but plenty of more obscure authors featured alongside them, such as Wilkie Collins and Elizabeth Gaskell. The boy seemed to have a love of Victorian fiction, especially melodrama. 

The half-empty bag, as well as the one that followed, contained books that were, as Vinter would describe them, “well-loved.” Their covers were worn, their pages soft, and many had the boy’s scent (chamomile and vanilla) embedded deeply into them. The last was full of books the boy had never touched, at least as far as Vinter could tell. Some were shiny, new and hardback, but most were used- slightly worn and smelling like a consignment shop, the dusty smell these things default to when they contain too many scents to be parsed properly. They were the same kind of dense literature as the first two bags; War and Peace, Crime and Punishment, Madame Bovary. There was not a Hunger Games, or Harry Potter or even Chronicles of Narnia among them; nothing contemporary, and nothing for children or adolescents. 

Darius Vinter was surprised. Darius Vinter was impressed. Darius Vinter still had no idea what to make the boy for breakfast. He sighed aloud, and replaced the makeshift library under the desk.

He pulled out his phone to consult Google, but the terms “English breakfast foods” only returned recipes for a Full English aimed at Americans who were unfamiliar. “English breakfast for children” returned the same in smaller portions, alongside nutritional information regarding children from British institutions for health. He finally tried “English pastries” and found a few promising results, though few  were truly English. He decided, finally, on Chelsea buns, filled with custard and dried apricot. After all, no omega would prefer a full English breakfast over a pastry.

Pastries from yeast dough were a favorite of Vinter’s to make. The time it took for the dough to rise, for the dish to bake, allowed him to get some work done, and they were always a hit with the boarders. Omegan palettes were suited for carbs, and anything sweet appealed to them. Their bodies were designed to prioritize storing fat the way the doctor’s own was suited to build muscle. Vinter could never resist an opportunity to show off for them.

Vinter slid the tray into the oven exactly as the microwave’s digital display, switched over to seven o’ clock, and then he was up the stairs to wake his brats. 

Morning was announced with a shout down the hall and a knock on each door. From there, the boarders’ punctuality was their own responsibility. Some were already awake, waiting for the doctor’s call to signal that they were free to leave their dorms. Some never woke on time, and were pulled from their beds only when they were sufficiently late to breakfast. Alarm clocks were kept on the nightstand next to every bed, but setting them before half past six was forbidden, and many of the grumpy risers preferred to enlist the help of their roommates instead. As the doctor descended the stairs, it was only Samantha and Gabriel that padded behind him.

”What’s for breakfast?” The girl yawned

”Chelsea buns.” The doctor replied.

”What’s that?”

”It’s similar to a cinnamon roll.”

”But different how?”

”It’s filled with dried fruit along with custard.” Vinter answered as the trio filed into the kitchen. “You’ll like it, Samantha.”

“Who’s the nurse today?” Gabriel asked.

”Marcy.”

”She here yet?”

”Yes, but she only just arrived, so give her a bit of time.”

Gabriel snorted.

”Marcy always needs time, doesn’t she?”

”Better than Deb.” Samantha responded flatly, gathering her hair over one shoulder.

”At least Deb is fast.” Gabriel retorted.

Samantha rolled her eyes.

”Maybe I like being late for group.” She snarked, “Ever think of that?”

”Careful what you let slip, Samantha.” Vinter warned. “And the only reason you lot don’t like Deborah is because you can’t wrap her around your fingers.”

“Sometimes when my head hurts I’d like to be given a Tylenol, Vinter.” Samantha replied. “Instead of being told ‘you’re fine, go back to class.’”

”It wouldn’t hurt as often if you drank more water.”

The others filed in one-by-one, and formed a queue outside the nurse’s station to have their vitals taken. Margaret arrived well-dressed and fully made up, as always. Tom came downstairs freshly showered, and Robin followed shortly after in lounge clothes (he had learned early on that he would not be permitted to spend the day in pajamas). Joshua was in line before Vinter had even known he was awake, creeping through the manor quietly as he did. David and Collin scrambled down the stairs with fifteen minutes to spare, and the latter skidded to a stop in front of the doctor.

”Who’s the nurse?” Collin asked.

”Marcy.” Vinter responded.

”Marcy.” Collin repeated, wincing, and filed into the line behind David.

”I’ll try to be quick.” David whispered as Collin reached his side, but it didn’t seem to improve his disposition.

That left only Alexander.

Dr. Vinter prided himself on maintaining a certain amount of rigor in his practice, but if there was a time for leniency, it was within the first twenty-four hours of a student’s stay. It was a lot to take in, he knew; more rules, more structure, and more responsibility than most of them had ever known before, and he wanted things to be fair. This is what he told himself as he ascended the stairs for Alexander.

”Alexander!” He called, knocking on the boy’s dorm. “Are you up?”

There was no response. Vinter furrowed his brow, and took deep breaths in through his mouth, scenting the air. The boy’s chamomile scent was present, muted behind the door. He was in his dorm, but not answering, perhaps asleep. Vinter knocked again.

”Alexander?” He called. “It’s time for breakfast.”

Nothing, still. He knocked again, and turned the knob.

”Alexander, I’m coming in.”

The door swung open to reveal Alexander, awake and dressed, sitting on his bed.  He had a book, small and thin enough to fit in his pocket, open in his lap. He spoke when the doctor entered the room, with the audacity to sound annoyed.

”What do you want?”

Vinter narrowed his eyes.

”Didn’t you hear me knocking?” He asked. “Why didn’t you answer?”

The boy shrugged.

”Didn’t feel like it.”

Vinter hummed.

”Well, that’s one.” He said. “And you’ll be receiving another shortly when you end up late for breakfast. We’re off to a bad start, aren’t we?”

”Not late for breakfast.” Alexander rebutted, gesturing to the digital clock on his nightstand. “It’s seven fifty and breakfast is at eight. You should know, it’s on your schedule.”

”Yes, but you’ve got to see the nurse for vitals.” Vinter replied, grinning. “And David and Collin are in front of you in line.”

The boy exhaled a growl as he rose from his bed, and stuffed the book into the pocket of his slacks.

”We have to do vitals?” He muttered. “I thought this wasn’t a hospital.”

”It isn’t.” Vinter replied, closing the boy’s door behind them. “It’s also not really a school and not really a corrections facility. It’s a hybrid of all three, and we use practices from all of them at my discretion. You would know if you had paid attention at dinner.”

”Yeah, yeah.”

”You were also supposed to submit all of your belongings to be inspected by staff when you arrived last night.”

”I did.”

”Not the book in your pocket.” Vinter countered. “Give it here.”

Alexander growled, and pulled the book from his pocket, holding it out for the doctor.

”It’s Sherlock Holmes.” He spat. “Pocket edition. Perfectly appropriate. Was I supposed to go to bed without anything to read?”

Vinter took the book from the boy’s hand, and flipped through it. It was, indeed, a pocket-sized edition of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It’s spine was bent, front cover trapped in a permanent curl towards the back so that it couldn’t properly close. Satisfied, he handed it back.

”One night would not have killed you, Alexander.” He responded flatly. “And you ought to be very careful with that attitude, one more slip of the tongue will find you back over my knee.”

Alexander didn’t respond, taking his place in line behind Collin, now the only person waiting outside the nurse’s station. Vinter made his way to the oven, and pulled out the tray of pastries. They were a perfect golden brown.

”Doctor!” Came a call from the nurse’s station, mousey and quiet. Even when she was shouting, Marcy’s voice sounded more like a whisper.

”What is it Marcy?”

”What’s for breakfast? I need to know for David’s insulin.”

”Ah, yes. It’s Chelsea buns.”

”What’s a Chelsea bun?”

”It’s like a cinnamon roll.” Vinter replied. “Four units ought to do it, he’s usually low in the mornings, yeah?”

“Got it!”

With that, the doctor began plating breakfast. He walked them, four at a time, to the table, balanced on his arms. He placed them in front of Margaret, Gabriel, Joshua, and Robin, then looked around, brow furrowed.

”Where’s Samantha?” He asked. “She was up this morning.” 

“She said she left her journal in her dorm.” Tom replied, cutting into his pastry with his fork. Vinter sighed.

”Well, she’d better find it before she finds herself late.”

David took his seat then, finished with the nurse.

”What’s a Chelsea bun?” He asked. “Something sweet?”

”It’s like a cinnamon roll.” Vinter replied, making his way back to the stove to retrieve a piece for David. As he placed it in front of the boy, Collin came clambering up to the table.

”Time?” He asked.

”Seven fifty-eight.” Vinter grinned, checking his watch. “You’ve made it, just barely.”

It was a quarter past eight when Alexander finally emerged from the nurse’s station, collapsing into a chair at the end of the table without a word. Vinter noted that he had selected the only seat that had no one next to it, an empty chair separating him from Robin. He was plating a pastry for the boy when he heard Samantha’s footsteps pounding down the staircase, and plated a piece for her as well.

”Mind if I sit?” She asked breathlessly, standing behind the empty chair next to Alexander.

”Do what you want.” Alexander responded flatly, and Vinter heard the chair scrape the tile as it was pulled away from the table.

”I thought it was pretty awesome.” Samantha said, voice low and heavy with the importance of a secret. “When you kicked Maggie’s ass last night.”

Vinter stilled at the island stove, peeled his eyes upward to watch the pair, and waited. Alexander sat with one arm slung over the back of his chair, and eyed the girl up and down. A grin broke over his face.

”Oh, you hate her, don’t you?” He asked, his own voice a whisper.

”I share a room with her.” Samantha responded, wrinkling her nose. “It was about time.”

Alexander snorted.

“How’s your stay so far?” Samantha continued. “I bet Vinter tore into you for that.”

Alexander shrugged.

”It’s fine, it’s whatever.” He said, gaze cast down. “I won’t be here long.”

”What makes you say that?”

”Oh, I’m never anywhere long.” He replied. “I give it two weeks, the doctor will get sick of me and pass me off to someone new.”

”Good luck, dude.” Samantha snorted. “That doesn’t work on Vinter. The worse you are, the more he likes you. The only way to get out is to be good and bore him”

Vinter took this opportunity to cross the room, placing the pair’s breakfasts in front of them.

”That’s exactly why I’m so fond of you, isn’t it, Samantha?” He grinned. “And you’re at one for profanity, and two for tardiness.” 

He turned to retrieve his own breakfast, and the pair’s conversation continued.

”Is there a word said in this house that that man doesn’t hear?” Alexander asked, dour.

”A few, but not many.” Samantha snarked. “One day there’s gonna be something you’re glad he overheard, though. He’s really not that bad when you get used to him.”

Alexander only snorted in reply.

”I’m not gonna ask what you did,” Samantha said after a moment. “Since you punched Maggie for it, but it must have been pretty bad, right?”

“Maybe.” Said Alexander, noncommittal.

”It was.” Samantha replied. “The out-of-state students are the worst, I think, he only takes them if they’re really bad. If you’re from England you must have done something crazy.”

Alexander was quiet for a moment. He tapped his fork against the tablecloth.

”Who’s out-of-state?” He asked.

”Robin, Tom, and Maggie.” She responded. “Tom’s pretty chill, but he’s been here a while. Based on what he’s said, he was out of control back in New York. Robin’s from Chicago, he’s mostly just quiet but he has a lot of crazy stories. And then Maggie is Maggie.”

”That she is.” Alexander sneered. “Which one is Robin?”

”Redhead.”

”Can I help you?” The boy in question asked.

He was seated next to Samantha and  he leaned his face on his hand, elbow propped on the table. His tone was flat, unaffected, and his expression was bored. 

“Keep hearing my name.” He said.

”Just telling the new kid you’re the worst one.” Samantha grinned, and the boy grinned back.

”That’s not true.” He replied in the same flat tone. “I’m a good boy, right Tom?”

“I don’t want to get a warning for lying.” Tom responded, not looking up from his plate.

”Good choice, Tom.” Vinter chirped, playful, from the head of the table.

”I’m good, Vinter, right?” Robin pressed. 

“No one is good or bad.” The doctor replied. “You choose to behave well or poorly, that’s all.”

“He doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Robin whispered, wrinkling his nose. He pushed his plate toward the girl. “Sammie, you want this?”

”You don’t want it?” 

“Too sweet.” He replied. 

“But you‘ll be hungry.”

”I ate my dairy and my protein. I’ll be fine.”

”Sure, then.” She replied, and the boy slid his untouched pastry onto her plate.

“You like these, right?” Samantha asked. “I’ll give you half if you want.”

”Chelsea buns?” Alexander asked. “They’re alright. Bit sweet for me.”

Vinter grimaced from his place across the table.

”He usually makes something special on your first day.” Samantha replied. “What did you put on your sheet?”

”Sheet?”

”The interest questionnaire thing.”

”Ah.” The boy replied. “Didn’t fill it out.”

”What?” Samantha asked. “And he just let you?”

The boy shrugged. 

“Hasn’t brought it up, yet.” He said. “Besides, it won’t matter much, since I’ll be leaving soon.”

Samantha snorted, but Robin turned to face the boy.

”What’s your plan for that?” He asked, voice low and gravely serious. His eyes, so brown they were almost black, watched Alexander’s face with intense scrutiny. Alexander fidgeted in his seat.

”That’s just what always happens.” He replied. “They always send me somewhere else before a month is up.”

“Happens why?” Robin pressed, voice still low as he glanced over his shoulder at the doctor, who kept his gaze averted to disguise his interest.

”Conflict, mostly.” Alexander snorted. “I don’t play well with others.”

Robin said nothing. He kept his gaze fixed on Vinter, and tapped his fingers against the tabletop. Then, he exhaled, and resituated himself to sit facing forward.

”Fighting wouldn’t work.” He muttered under his breath, but he didn’t seem to be speaking to anyone in particular.

Alexander turned his focus back to Samantha.

”What did you say Robin did?” He asked.

”You have to ask him yourself.” She replied. “We get in trouble for sharing that stuff. It’s a HIPAA thing.”

Alexander watched the redhead, his own eyes narrowed. Robin looked up, expression dour, and gave a sarcastic wave. Alexander turned back to Samantha.

”What about the others?’’

“That’s Josh.” She said, pointing, “He’s mute, but he can hear. Vinter’s going to make you learn some ASL, so get ready for that. He’s pretty cool, pretty laid back. The tall one is Gabe, he was a day student, but he got moved to boarding for fighting.”

”Gabe’s an omega?”

”Yeah, he’s just tall. Vinter only works with omegas.”

”What about Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?” 

“David and Collin?” Samantha asked, laughing. “They’re cool. David’s really nice, and Collin is funny but he can be annoying.”

Alexander tapped his fork on the table.

”Is David the narc?”

”What?” Samantha asked, caught off guard. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”

”He’s got that look about him.” Alexander answered, gaze cast across the table. “And he sits right next to Vinter.”

Samantha tilted her head from side to side.

”I’ve seen him cover for Collin.” She said. “I don’t think he’s like that, but he is kind of a goody-two-shoes, I guess. Maybe I wouldn’t know.”

”David’s not a rat.” Robin replied. His voice was flat, and he looked at neither of them as he spoke. “He’s just a good kid.”

“Do you know what he did?” Alexander asked Samantha, ignoring Robin.

”I know what Collin did, he’ll tell anyone who’ll listen. I don’t think I’ve ever asked David.”

”What about Josh?”

“I think Josh was fighting.”

”Careful, Samantha.” Vinter warned from the head of the table. “You know you can’t share those things for other people. Perhaps we should choose a more appropriate subject for discussion.”

”Sorry.” Samantha called back, and a moment passed in silence. Alexander watched the doctor.

”So ‘careful’ isn’’t a warning?” He asked.

”’Careful’ means you’re about to get a warning.”

”And after three warnings he spanks you?”

”Usually, but not always.” Samantha replied. “He’ll do something else if spankings don’t work.”

”How do you make a spanking not work, then?” Alexander asked, voice an eager whisper.

Samantha snorted.

”Talk to Robin.”

Alexander eyed the redhead for a moment, silent. Then, he spoke, voice hushed.

”Robin, how do you-“

”Call him ‘Daddy’ during.” The boy grinned, and a blush rose to Alexander’s face.

”Samantha, Alexander, and Robin, is that conversation appropriate?” Vinter called from across the table. Alexander began to stammer.

”Sammie and me are just trying to explain the rules to the new kid.” Robin replied easily. “It’s a big adjustment, you know.”

Vinter hummed. 

“That isn’t what it sounded like from here.” He responded. “Do we need a warning for lying, Robin?”

”Not lying.” The boy responded. “Ask Sammie.”

“Samantha?” Vinter probed, and the girl startled, peering back with wide eyes.

”He’s telling the truth.” She said. “He was making a joke about it.”

Vinter tapped his fingers on the table.

”Let’s be more careful with our jokes from now on, Robin.” He said, and then returned to his conversation at the other end of the table. Robin turned to Alexander.

”Not a joke.” He whispered. “But the other stuff is worse, just so you know.”

_

After breakfast was group therapy. When the school-year rolled around, this block would be replaced with finishing lessons for both the boarders and day students; and Vinter would hold group in the afternoon, when the day students had gone home and he was alone with his brats. 

Vinter preferred to hold group in the parlor, where he could see all of his students easily, and that was where he held it today. With adequate pleading (and appropriate weather), he could be convinced to hold it outdoors; and Samantha had asked, as she always did in the summers, but the ground was far too soggy and the furniture too wet from the previous night’s storm. Besides, if he did it too often, it stopped serving as an incentive to behave.

His boarders filed up one by one to his desk for their day sheets: a worksheet they filled out every morning after breakfast and every evening just before bed. The sheet asked them to rank their mood on a scale of one to ten, list any physical pain they were in, and set a goal for the day. Similar sheets were used in hospitals and intensive outpatient programs, and Vinter found them useful for his boarders, who, more often than not, struggled with some form of mental illness alongside their behavior disorders.

”This is your day sheet.” Vinter said to Alexander as the boy reached the front of the line. “You’ll fill one out every-“

”I’ve done it before.” Alexander responded curtly, and snatched the paper from the doctor’s hand. Vinter smiled serenely.

”Careful, Alexander.” He warned, sing-song and gleeful. “Keep in mind that you reached two before breakfast.”

Alexander said nothing in response, which was one of the smarter options he had at his disposal. The rest of the boarders took their sheets one by one until Samantha, at the back of the line, reached Vinter’s desk. The girl took the paper he held out for her, pinched it between her forefinger and thumb, and then she hovered there, eyes narrowed, and didn’t move.

”Do you need something, Samantha?” Vinter asked dryly.

”You’ve got marks on your arm.” She said, barely above a whisper, and grinned.

”Find your seat, Samantha.”

”Those weren’t there yesterday.”

”Be careful, Samantha.”

”Was it nails or teeth?”

”That makes three, Samantha.” Vinter grinned. “Find your seat.”

The girl huffed, and turned from the doctor’s desk.

”Vinter’s got new marks.” She called as she made her to her usual seat: A sofa pushed against the right wall. “Who did it?”

Vinter hummed.

”And now we’re at four.”

”How deep are they?” Collin asked. “‘Cause it was probably Tom.”

”That’s bullshit and you know it.” Tom sneered, seated on the other sofa, which sat catty-corner by Vinter’s desk. “I’m trying to get out of here”

”Trying, but not very hard.” Vinter sighed. “That’s one.”

”But you’ve got your little X-man claws.” Samantha argued. “You’d be the most likely.”

“It wasn’t me.” Tom huffed. “If my claws got him you’d know it. He’d need stitches.”

Samantha tapped her fingers against the coffee table in front of her, upper body bent over her lap.

”Who all got punished yesterday?” She asked. “‘Cause that was when it happened.”

”David got it right before bed.” Collin said, failing to answer the question.

”It wasn’t David.” Samantha dismissed. “Maggie got it, too, right?”

”Me and Tom got it after lunch.” Robin said from Tom’s side, voice low and flat. Samantha shook her head.

”It had to have happened later.” She argued. “After dinner. I bet it was Maggie, she keeps her nails long.”

”New kid got it, too.” Tom pointed out. “Could’ve been him.”

Samantha looked over at the boy, who sat in the armchair in the back, left corner. The seat was angled to sit against a large window that looked out to the front yard, as well as a floor-to-ceiling bookcase that lined the wall. It was the same seat he had chosen last night, when Margaret had approached him and it was the most private seat in the room. The window separated it from its nearest neighbor.

”Alexander.” She sang, drawing out the last syllable of the boy’s name. 

Alexander said nothing.

”C’mon.” She pressed. “Was it you?”

Alexander said nothing, still.

”I bet it was him.” Collin said. “‘Cause it wasn’t David and it wasn’t Tom.”

”Could’ve been Maggie.” Tom reminded.

“Maggie, was it you?” Collin asked flatly, and the girl grinned.

”Might have been.” She drawled. “Don’t really remember.”

”If Maggie says it was her, it wasn’t.” Collin said with a matter-of-fact tilt of the head. “It was the new kid.”

”I didn’t say it was me.”

”Alright, enough.” Vinter interrupted, finally. “It’s not any of your business what happened or who did it. Next person to speak on the subject gets a warning- and Samantha, you’re already at four.”

”But it was Alexander, right?” Samantha pressed.

”Five.” Vinter sighed. “And before you can try for six, let’s start group. Who wants to share?”

Everyone’s eyes cast downward to the floor, as they always did when this question was asked. Vinter knew better than to coax or goad his wards, however. A long enough silence could always extinguish the problem itself. It was Tom who broke it this time.

”Tomorrow I’ll have been here two years.” He said, gaze still cast to the floor. 

His posture was hunched, elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped in the space between his knees. His right leg bounced rapidly, heel tapping quietly against the rug beneath him. His sketchbook, which he was never without, sat closed and upright, wedged into the crevice between his own cushion and the one next to it, where Robin sat, with an ink pen marking its place. Robin shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and turned his body face away from his neighbor. 

The boys were a sharp contrast, seated next to each other as they were. Tom was the oldest, then, taller by a full head, and broad in the shoulders the way omegas typically weren’t; and Robin was the youngest, a mere fifteen years old, with pale, Irish skin, and thin, frail limbs. Tom’s fox-like eyes peered down at the floor, brow furrowed, and Robin’s, wide and frightened as a doe’s, looked up and around, searching for something inoffensive to rest on. Vinter leaned his chin on his hand, and clenched his jaw to push the reassuring scent of an alpha into the room from the glands on his neck.

”Two years.” He repeated, gentle. “How are we feeling about that?”

Tom huffed, shrugging aggressively. David, one seat to the right in an armchair, hunched his shoulders.

”I mean, not happy.” Tom muttered, avoiding the alpha’s gaze. “But I already know what you’re gonna say.”

Vinter hummed, and flexed his jaw again to soothe the brood in front of him.

”And what am I gonna say?” He asked.

”That it’s my own fault, and I know what I need to do to get out.”

”I don’t think I would phrase it quite that harshly, Tom.” Vinter replied, keeping his tone gentle. “And I think I would remind you that this program is long-term by design.”

Tom huffed, and turned his face away from the alpha to look out the window on the back wall.

”Alright.” was all he said.

Vinter inhaled, and let the room sit in silence for a moment. Then, he pursued the conversation again.

”What is it you find so upsetting,” Vinter probed. “About coming up on two years?”

The boy fidgeted. He unclasped his hands, and ran the right one through his hair; thick and black. He spoke then, leaning backwards as his fingers combed through his hair.

”It really sucks to watch everyone leave.” He said. “It’s a whole new group now, there’s no one here who was here when I got here. I hate that.”

”And what do you hate about it?”

Tom huffed again, and collapsed onto the arm of the sofa, one hand supporting his chin. His gaze remained pointed out the window.

”It’s like-“ He said, and then stopped. His foot began tapping again.

Vinter simply waited.

”It’s like, you get here, and it sucks, but then you get to know everyone and you learn how everything works and it’s not so bad.” He said. “And then everyone leaves, and it’s like a brand new house. You have to get used to everything all over again! And it’s like, ‘oh my god, how many times am I gonna have to do this?’ Like, what if I’m here forever?’”

“Gee, I hope so.” Samantha deadpanned, slouched on her sofa. “I hope I never have to leave, this place is fuckin’ Disney World.”

“Six, Samantha.” Vinter scolded. “And seven, for interrupting. Sit quietly and behave.”

The alpha stared the girl down, but she retained her slouched, insolent posture, glaring into the floor. He surrendered his gaze with an exasperated sigh.

”Once, Tom, to answer your question.” Vinter said gently, returning his attention to the boy. “The house will only reset like this once. Hopefully, at least. Remind me, Tom, who was here when you arrived?”

Tom cast his gaze towards the ceiling, remembering,

”Abby, Cole, Nate, and Jenna.” He said, then added. “And Trevor.”

Vinter tapped his fingers on the desk, smiling.

”One more.” 

Tom cocked his head to the side.

“Who?”

”Trevor had a roommate.”

Tom furrowed his brow.

”Was it the kid who left really soon?’”

Vinter snorted.

”It wasn’t soon for him.” He answered.”And his name was Lucas. He graduated the semester before you came but his alpha asked that I hold him a couple of months later for practical reasons.”

”Okay,” Tom replied with a roll of his eyes. “What’s your point?”

”My point is that, more or less, every student who passes through these halls follows the same path.” Vinter answered. “When you arrived, Jenna was about where you are now. She’d been here a year and a half, do you remember how she was?”

”I liked Jenna.” Tom said thoughtfully. “She was nice.”

Vinter hummed.

”Helpful, yeah?” He agreed. “Told you the rules, explained the schedule.”

”Not just me. She did the same for Josh when he got here.”

”And not just the two of you.” Vinter replied. “By the end of her first year, she had a habit of taking new students under her wing for the first week or so. Sort of like you did for Alexander last night.”

Tom turned his head, casting his gaze to Alexander, sat in his lonely armchair in the corner. Alexander slouched further in his seat, and lifted his gaze to meet Tom’s: a warning. Tom turned back to the doctor with a roll of his eyes.

”So what’s your point?”

”When did Jenna leave?” Vinter asked.

”May, like everybody else.”

”And for her that was three and half years.” Vinter replied. “She spent three and a half years in these halls. You’ve spent two, almost.”

“So your point is ‘wait a year’?” 

“My point is Jenna was very different when she arrived than she was when you met her.” Vinter replied. “By the time you arrived, she had learned a lot, been in my office plenty of times.  The same is true for you, now.”

Tom snorted.

”Well I have had plenty of trips to your office.”

”Less and less with time.” Vinter grinned. “Your time is going to come around just like Jenna’s did; and, in the same way, someone else is going to be in here lamenting the way the group has changed when you leave. You’ve made more progress than you think you have.”

Tom sighed and dropped his head, bringing one hand up and around to rub the back of his neck.

”So you’re saying I’m on track, then?”

”More or less.” Vinter nodded. “Your role has changed now, as well. You’ve got to be a role model to the younger, newer students, the same way Jenna was to you.”

Tom tilted his head from side to side, considering. 

“What was your goal today, and your mood?” Vinter asked, pressing forward.

”Finish at least one unit in math.” Tom replied. “And I think I put a four or five for mood.”

“Excellent goal. Maths is hardest for you, yeah?”

”I’m more of a creative.”

”That you are.” Vinter grinned. “Who goes next, Robin or David?”

David had volunteered after a moment of silence, which was expected since Robin rarely spoke in group without being asked directly. They went on that way, then, counter-clockwise around the room. After David came Collin, and Samantha had interrupted them both with some flippant remark, earning eight and then nine warnings.

Then it was Samantha’s turn, sat next to Collin on her sofa. Margaret was seated to her left, an empty armchair in between them, holding space for the disdain the pair held for each other. As Vinter turned his attention to her, the warm smile he had offered Collin dropped off his face.

”Alright, Samantha.” He sighed. “Your turn now. You’ve wanted my attention all morning and now you’ve got it. Mood?”

”Ten out of ten.” She said flatly. 

“Yes, as always.” Vinter replied, dryly. “Ten out of ten, every morning.”

”I love it here.” She spat.

”Happiest place on earth.” Vinter snarked back, and grinned.

The girl only glared in response. Vinter pressed forward.

”Fine.” He said. “Ten out of ten. What was your goal?”

”I wanna climb Mount Everest.”

The doctor groaned, and dropped his head into one hand.

”Must we do this every morning?” He asked, trying to rub the budding migraine out of his forehead. “Do we need yet another warning for refusing to take group seriously?”

”I don’t know what you mean.” Samantha shrugged. “I’m serious. I wanna climb that mountain, die on the way down, and have my body used as a landmark like Green Boots.”

“No, you don’t.”

”I do!” Samantha insisted, rising in her seat. She was playful, now, enjoying the game. “I just feel like it’s a way I could give back to others, you know?”

Vinter stared down at the girl, but his gaze was more tired than intimidating. She only grinned back.

”Alright, we’re at ten, then.”

”For what?”

”For refusing to take group seriously.” Vinter answered. “And now we’re at eleven, talking back.”

”I was asking a question.”

”And that one can bring us to twelve.” Vinter grinned. “Suppose we’ll just keep going, yeah?”

”Going where?”

”Thirteen.” 

“Thirteen for asking where we’re going?” Samantha snorted. “How will I know what to pack?”

”And now fourteen”

She turned to Collin, at her side, and gestured to the doctor, as if bewildered.

”This guy, am I right?”

Collin snorted.

”Don’t bring me into this.” He muttered, slumping in his seat

”Good boy, Collin.” Vinter hummed. “Fifteen, now, Samantha.”

”Just wanted to know where we were going.” She muttered, slumped back low against her seat. “Might’ve been Disney.”

”And the callback brings us to sixteen.” Vinter sighed, smiling tight-lipped. “Are we ready to stop?”

Samantha considered it, Vinter knew. He could see it on her face; the cost-benefit analysis she was running in her head. In the end, she sighed, and let it go.

”Fine, fine.” She muttered, noncommittal. 

“Good girl.” Vinter hummed. Then he turned his attention to the tittering in the lonely corner.

Alexander had fought laughter through the girl’s entire routine. He sat in his chair and covered his mouth, shoulders shaking. And he fought it still, as the joking drew to a close.

”Alexander, is there something you find funny in your corner over there?”

The boy stiffened, and his expression soured in an instant.

”I didn’t say anything.” He spat.

”You didn’t need to.” Vinter replied, smiling warmly. “Samantha’s funny, isn’t she?”

The boy only shrugged.

”I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Vinter pressed on. “Collin does, too. Right?”

Collin startled, and stared back wide-eyed behind his glasses.

”Um.” He stammered.

”Is Samantha funny, Collin?” Vinter asked, leaning his chin on his hand. “It’s a yes or no question.”

”Yes, sir.” The boy replied, looking at the floor. 

”David, what do you think?”

”She can be.” David replied timidly, eyes peeking up at the doctor before dropping back to the floor.

“Tom, what about you?”

”I think it’s more annoying than anything when she wastes all our time in group.” Tom replied, and Samantha stuck her tongue out in his direction.

”Seventeen.” Vinter grinned, then sat back in his chair.

”Let’s take a vote.” He beamed, “Raise your hand if you think Samantha is funny.”

The group shifted nervously, exchanging looks.

”Aw, go on.” Vinter coaxed. “No one is going to get in trouble for saying so.”

Slowly, hands raised; Collin’s went up as high as he could hold it, and David’s raised half-heartedly, bent at the elbow. Tom kept his down, holding his sketchbook in his lap, waiting for a moment the doctor’s eyes would not be on him to open it. Robin raised his hand, elbow propped up on his knee. Joshua raised his eagerly, grinning, and Gabriel gave a noncommittal raise of his first two fingers. Maggie kept hers down, arms crossed over her chest, and moped, furious that the other girl was the center of attention. That left Alexander.

Alexander sat, slouched, and tried to pretend he did not notice the conversation at all. His position did not change when the doctor addressed him.

”Come on, Alexander.” Vinter goaded, gleeful. “You have to think she’s funny, you were laughing the whole time!”

”I remembered something from TV.” The boy muttered, and Samantha stifled a snort of her own.

”We’ll count Alexander as half a vote.” Vinter said, and grinned with a wrinkle of his nose. Then, he sat back into his chair, and counted hands with a gesture of his pen.

”Let’s see.” He began. “One, two, three, four, five. And Alexander makes five and a half.”

He turned to Samantha and grinned.

”Multiply that by five, you’ll take  twenty-eight extra swats for everyone you’ve entertained.”

”Twenty-eight?” Samantha balked.

”Rounding up.” Vinter nodded. “Because you can’t have half a swat, that’s just silly.”

”That’s not fair!” The girl argued.

”It doesn’t have to be.” Vinter shrugged. “And that’s twenty-eight on top of those earned by your seventeen warnings, which we’ll parse out upstairs.”

Vinter sighed, satisfied, and leaned his chin on his hand again.

”Have we got what we wanted, now?” He asked. “Are we ready to proceed?”

Samantha sighed, and ducked her head.

”Yes, sir.”

”Good.” The doctor exhaled, voice dropping its put-upon glee for the stern tone he’d wanted to take since the girl began her charade. “Because we’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? What qualities does a goal have to have to be appropriate for group?”

”It’s got to be achievable by the end of the day.” Samantha droned.

”That’s right.” Vinter affirmed. “And can Mount Everest be climbed in one day?”

”I think I could if I had enough caffeine.”

Vinter sighed.

”Samantha, you aren’t acting as carefully as I would expect from someone who’s already earned sixteen warnings and twenty-eight extra swats.”

The girl huffed.

”No sir, it cannot.”

”It’s also got to be something that doesn't break house rules.” Vinter continued. “Such as leaving the grounds unsupervised; which you would have to do in order to travel to Nepal, because I'm not coming with you. What else?”

”It can’t be detrimental to your mental or physical health.”

”That’s right.” Vinter chirped. “And your goal sounded pretty detrimental to me; dying and being used as a landmark and that. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, sir.”

”So why don’t we try to make another goal?” The doctor suggested. “One in line with group rules.”

”My goal is to have fun and be myself.” The girl said flatly, head lolled to the side to look out the window. Vinter let out a groan.

”Yes, of course it is.” He said dryly. “Same as yesterday and the day before.”

”The fun never stops.”

”Depends who you ask.”

They went on to Maggie, then, who tried in her own way to capture the group’s attention, but got embarrassed shortly into the bit, as she always did. Then, they moved on.

They could have gone to Alexander, then, separated from Margaret by the window which allowed space for his own disdain for the girl; but Vinter liked to give new students as much space as he could reasonably allow. So, he went on to Gabriel, whose chair was sat catty-corner along the border of the rug, in front of Alexander. Then, it was Joshua, whose seat was a mirror of Gabriel’s, and who signed his responses.

”Mood today, Joshua?” The doctor asked.

The boy held up his right hand and tapped his pinkie and thumb together: “six.”

”Six?” Vinter asked, more for the clarity of the other students than his own. He had known the boy for more than a year now, and was quite proud of his progress in ASL, slow and clumsy as his signing was. 

Joshua nodded in response.

”Bit low for you.” The doctor pressed, signing slowly as he spoke. “What’s got you down today?”

Joshua didn’t respond for a moment, sat slouched with his arms crossed over his chest. His foot began to bounce against the rug in front of him. Then, he answered.

”Homesick.” He signed. “Today is my dad’s birthday.”

Vinter hummed.

”It’s your father’s birthday.” He repeated. “And you’re here instead.”

Joshua had exhaled, puffing out his cheeks in annoyance, and nodded. Vinter hummed, and pretended not to notice the attitude.

”And we’ve said before that’s the hardest part for a lot of you.” He said. “That life goes on without you while you’re here.”

Joshua sat silent for a moment, tapping his own foot the way Tom had earlier. When he brought his hands in front of his face to sign, his movements were erratic, angry.

”I can’t see them until August visitation.” He signed. “And they missed last week because of some kind of work thing. And I don’t get phone calls every night like everyone else because half the time the Wi-Fi is so bad that you can’t talk.”

“Hold on,” Vinter said, urgency in his voice. He spoke faster than he signed. “You’re not getting your phone call every night?”

Joshua sighed.

”It lags.” He signed. “The video freezes, or cuts out, so I can’t see what they’re saying. Audio still goes, I can hear them on the other side, but we can’t talk, because they can’t hear me!”

He emphasized the word “me,” driving his forefinger into his chest with a large, sweeping motion.

“Joshua, you should have told me that.” Vinter replied, tone gentle in both voice and sign. “You should get to call home nightly, like everyone else.”

“Wait, why can’t he?” Gabriel asked from his side. “What did he say?”

”The video cuts out on his calls.” Vinter replied. “Or lags, so he can’t talk to his parents.”

”Then why doesn’t he just call like everyone else?” Gabriel asked. “He can talk, I’ve heard him before.”

Joshua turned to Gabriel, and signed angrily. He finished by clapping his hand against his chest, fingers positioned in an “OK” gesture. Vinter snorted.

”One, Joshua.” He said. “I know what that means now.”

”He deserved it.” Joshua signed, looking away.

”Perhaps,” Vinter allowed, smiling warmly. “But profanity is not allowed in any language, no matter how deserved.”

Gabriel’s brow furrowed, blue eyes darting between the doctor and the boy to his left.

”What did he say?” He asked

”He said he can’t speak to his parents on the phone because they’re deaf, Gabriel.” Vinter answered. “And then he called you something rude.”

”His parents are deaf?” Gabriel asked. “You said he was a selective mute.”

”He is, sort of. That’s what they had called him at his school.” Vinter said. “But it’s really sort of different. His first language is ASL. He knows English, but ASL is easier, more fluent. He’s a native signer, that’s why he can sign so much faster than the rest of us. Well, that and the fact that you lot don’t really study.”

”So what’s this?” Collin asked, and brought his hand against his own chest the way Joshua had before. “Which word?”

Vinter snorted.

”I’m not telling.”

”Josh, finger spell it.” Samantha said, sitting up in her seat. Her interest was piqued, now.

“Don’t.” Vinter warned. “Samantha, aren’t you in enough trouble, already?”

”Come on.” Josh signed, grinning at the doctor. “She barely knows the alphabet, anyway.”

Vinter snorted.

”Call it a test, then?” He snarked. “Anyone who’s studied enough gets to know?”

”Yes.” Joshua signed eagerly, nodding behind his words.

”Try it if you like, it’s your behind.”

Try it, he did. He faced the girl and began spelling, slow and deliberate. She narrowed her eyes and watched.

”A-E-E.” She said slowly, and Joshua huffed.

”No.” He signed, and started over.

”A.” She said, and he nodded. Then, “E-E?”

Joshua shook his head again, wiggling his fingers in mid-air as his gaze cast to the side. He was thinking, trying to come up with a way to explain. 

“You.” He signed, pointing at the girl.

”Me?”

He nodded.

”First letter you.” He signed, deconstructing the language into a broken version of itself that mimicked the grammar of English, in the hopes that the girl would understand.

”One?” She asked.

”I think it’s ‘first.’” David said helpfully.

Joshua pointed to him, nodding.

”Ok, first.” Samantha continued. “Then ‘something, me.’ I don’t know the middle one.”

”Letter.” Joshua signed again, slower, making the letter L with his right hand, then tapping his thumb with the forefinger of his left.

”I know this is ‘L.’” Samantha said, timidly, and made the sign with her own hand. 

Josh groaned and collapsed against his seat.

”It’s ‘letter.’” Tom said curtly. “‘Letter,’ and you’d know if you ever practiced.”

”Letter.” Samantha repeated. “‘First letter you.’ First letter you?”

“He means your name, I think.” David said quietly.

”S.” Samantha said. “Oh, it’s ‘S!’”

Joshua sat back up, excitement rekindled.

”Yes.” He signed, and began to finger spell again.

”S-E-E” Samantha said slowly, and Joshua deflated, groaning.

”He already told you the first letter was ‘A’!” Tom said, incredulous. “It’s the next letter you had wrong. You always get ‘E’ and ‘S’ confused.”

”A-S-S.” She said. “Oh, it’s ass.”

Vinter hummed.

”You’re at seventeen now, Samantha.” He said dryly. “And that isn’t right, not entirely.”

”It’s not?” She asked. “Keep going, Josh.”

Joshua began spelling for her again.

”G?” She guessed, and the boy groaned again.

”H.” Tom corrected. His sketchbook was open now, spread across his lap as he scribbled into it with the pen. This charade had been identified as an opportunity to sketch.

”H.” Samantha repeated. “Oh, it’s asshole.”

Josh nodded, giving two thumbs up.

”Solved it, then.” Vinter grinned. “That’s eighteen for you, Samantha, plus those extra swats, and two for Joshua. I hope it was worth it.”

With that the doctor checked his watch, and pressed forward.

”Alright, let’s finish group this morning, yeah? We’ve got thirty minutes.” He said, and looked up. “Who’s next, Robin or Alexander?”

Neither boy spoke, both looking intently at the floor in front of them. 

Alexander sat slouched in the far armchair, arms crossed over his chest and knees apart to take up more space; male omegas in Vinter’s care often sat this way, mimicking their betan and alphan counterparts to feign confidence- or display authentic aggression. Outside of the manor’s walls, this kind of posture was uncommon for any member of the gentle dynamic. 

Robin sat in a position more typical for an omega, knees drawn to his chest and thin arms wrapped around them to draw them even closer. He rested his chin atop his knees and cast his gaze downward; his objective was the opposite of Alexander’s: to appear even smaller than he was.

Vinter tapped a pen against the desk, held upright, as silence failed to crack either of his wards. He sighed before speaking.

”It’s got to be one of you.” He said. “Everyone else has gone.”

Neither spoke, still.

”If no one goes, I’ll choose.”

Nothing, still. Robin turned his face away, pointed to the wall behind Tom: a gesture of submission. Vinter sighed, and tapped his pen again.

”Robin, then.” He said, tone firm but gentle. “Since Alexander is new.”

Vinter watched the boy tense, the sharp scent of his stress washing over him. He was seated perhaps three feet from the doctor on the catty-corner sofa, the first seat on the other side of the desk. The sofa formed a little corner behind itself, blocked off from view, which Vinter had created to discourage students from finding their way behind the desk. That was Robin’s preferred seat, hidden from view next to the doctor’s desk, on the floor. 

Vinter had fought it when the boy first arrived, tried to force him to sit on the provided, appropriate seating with his peers. They had reached an agreement in June, the boy’s second month, that he could hide in his corner during free time if he sat properly during groups. The boy adhered to this agreement, but not enthusiastically.

”I’m doing okay.” He said softly, voice flat and unaffected as it usually was. “I put a seven, I think.”

”You seem anxious for a seven.” Vinter pointed out.

”Was less anxious when I wrote it.” Robin replied, smiling tight-lipped.

Vinter hummed.

”Lot of high emotions this group, yeah?”

”I guess.”

”And you’re not one for conflict, are you, Robin?”

The boy said nothing, only gave a half-hearted shake of his head.

”But we know we’re safe here.” The doctor pressed. “And we know we’re here to get better. Don’t we, Robin?”

The boy inhaled, and lifted his head slightly to nod.

”Can you answer me properly, Robin?”

”Yes, sir.” The boy said in his flat affect. “I know I’m safe here.”

”Good boy.” Vinter said softly. “What was our goal today?”

”Be social.” 

Vinter grinned.

”And you were a bit, at breakfast.”

”A little.” Robin said, exhaling a breathy laugh. His posture relaxed some. “I’m trying to put my energy into progress, ‘cause I won’t get anywhere doing the same things I’ve always done.”

”And that’s a wonderful attitude.” Vinter said, gentle and warm. “You’ve been here how long?”

”Came here in May.” The boy said, resting his cheek against his knee. “The twentieth.”

”And it’s fourteenth July.” Vinter said. “So we’re almost at two months, yeah?”

Robin said nothing, only shrugged.

”Tom, do you remember when you were that new?”

Tom startled, and shut his sketchbook, pen left in to mark its place.

”I remember being new.” He said. “I couldn’t tell you by month.”

”What was it like, being new?”

Tom exhaled, and gave an unsure kind of shrug.

”It was hardest at the beginning.” He said. “‘Cause, you know it’s long term treatment, but I don’t think you can have a real idea of what that means for a while.”

”How long of a while?”

Tom snorted.

”I feel like I only really got it when Jenna, Abby, and Nate left all at once.” He said. “They had told me they’d been here for years when I got here- Wasn’t Nate here for like four? But I didn’t really get it. Or, I didn’t apply it to myself.”

“Nate was here five years, and that isn’t so unusual.” Vinter corrected. “He came at sixteen. Most come a bit older, but I get plenty that young. Everyone’s got to graduate or go somewhere else by twenty-one though, because you can no longer be classified as adolescents.”

Tom snorted.

”Well, that’s reassuring.” He said. “Only two more years, no matter what.”

”Well, make it your goal to graduate,” Vinter snarked back. “Because it is entirely possible to discharge you elsewhere than home.”

“Have you ever had to do that?” Margaret asked, wide-eyed, from her seat by the window.

”Not yet.” Vinter replied. “But I’m sure it’s a matter of time. I’m very grateful that every student I’ve had so far has graduated and either been placed with a mate or returned home.”

”Everyone?” Collin asked. “”No one dropped out or anything?”

”A few day schoolers have been pulled by their parents, but I haven’t lost a single boarder.” 

Tom hummed.

”I could be the first.”

Vinter grinned.

”Try whatever you like.” He dared. “We’ll see who folds first.”

The doctor straightened, then, and returned his attention to Robin.

“Anyway, Robin, I brought Tom into the conversation to illustrate that the same I said for him is true for you.” He said. “You’ve got to get through your first months like everyone else who’s passed through here has had to. Your time’s going to come around, just like Tom’s is. It was nearly two years, he said, before he even understood what his treatment entailed. You’ve been here two months, it’s just going to take time. You’re doing well already.”

Robin said nothing, gaze pointed away from the doctor. He didn’t seem reassured by that answer.

”Alright.” Vinter sighed, pressing on. “You’re up, Alexander.”

“I don’t want to share.” The boy said flatly.

”I’m afraid participation is required.” Vinter responded easily.

”What happens if I don’t?”

”Automatic consequence.” The doctor grinned. “We’ll make a detour to my office before finishing lessons. I’ll see you just after Samantha.”

“Zero.” The boy said bitterly. “And my goal is to stay out of trouble.”

”That’s a good goal, in light of last night.” Vinter said, softening. “Why are we at zero this morning?”

”Because I’m here.” The boy said flatly. 

”And I’m sure you’d rather not be.” Vinter snorted. Then, he straightened, projected his voice, and addressed the rest of the group. 

“Raise your hand if you’re excited to be here.”

A moment of silence passed. No one raised their hand until Samantha, recognizing an opportunity for a laugh, stuck hers up as high as she could raise it, grinning smugly at the doctor. Alexander disguised a snort as a cough, and Vinter sighed, turning to the boy with a warm smile.

“Looks like you’ve got company, Alexander.”  He said brightly. “But we’re all here for a reason, aren’t we? Everyone wants to go home, and everyone wants to go home quickly, but it simply doesn’t work like that. Keep your focus on yourself, put your energy into your own progress and your own growth and things will get easier. You’ll earn privileges, have a little more freedom to move about, and you’ll get to go home for holidays and special occasions if you behave.”

Alexander snorted.

”No, I won’t.” He spat.

Vinter hummed. 

“Try it and find out.”

”I won’t.” The boy rebutted, meeting the doctor’s gaze with a glare. “No matter what I do or how well I behave, I will never get to go home, because I haven’t got a home to go to, doctor.”

Vinter so rarely found himself without a response, but he found himself that way now. He took in a breath, and steadied himself, seeing how David and Robin fidgeted in the corner of his vision.

”Let’s process that, then.” He suggested, refocusing to a problem he could fix. “How does that make you feel, to not have a home?”

Alexander growled in response; a real growl. Most omegas couldn’t, or could only do so in a quiet, raspy kind of way, like a singer trying to hit a note out of their range. Those that could manage the noise typically learned to do so in childhood, before presenting; and growling was typically not the only aggressive behavior they learned in that time.

Anxiety rippled through the group in response. Gabriel, closest to the boy, only shifted slightly, mostly unfazed. Margaret, on the other side, ducked her head forward, so that her hair covered her face, and watched the boy sideways with wary eyes. Samantha exhaled a sigh, not quite nervous and not quite annoyed, but something in between; and Joshua leaned forward, folding his upper body over his lap. Collin, next to Samantha, turned his face away and began bouncing his leg; and David, to his left, gripped his elbows in his hands, pulling himself into a sort of hug. Tom seemed to have hardly noticed, sketchbook back out and open across his lap, but Robin, next to him, turned his face away to look at the wall behind the doctor, one hand winding wildly through his red mane of hair.

”Doesn’t make me feel any sort of way.” Alexander muttered, bitter and petulant. If he noticed the reactions he’d elicited, he did not acknowledge them. “Just the way it is.”

Vinter hummed, chin resting on his hand. He’d been soothing the group since the sound escaped the boy’s mouth, pushing his calm, assured, alphan scent out through his scent glands with clenches of his jaw, but it only worked so quickly. He allowed a moment of silence, and watched out of the corner of his eye as postures seemed to relax. He would speak only when the atmosphere was sufficiently calm.

“I would argue you do feel some way about it.” He said, finally. “Based on your reaction to that question.”

Alexander said nothing, only shrugged.

”You don’t have to share anything about your personal life that you don’t want to, Alexander.” Vinter said gently. “But if, as you say, you haven’t got a home, you’ve got one now. This program is long term by design, barring a life and death circumstance, no one will get out before a year has passed- and most will stay several times longer. This structure and stability could be an opportunity for growth, if you’ll allow it to be.”

Alexander didn’t respond, but shifted in his seat to face the window rather than the rest of the room. It was a sign of submission, a mirror of the one Robin had made not thirty minutes before. The doctor didn’t know whether or not to consider it a win.

The door from the kitchen opened with a clamor, then, drawing the doctor’s attention as well as the wide eyes of his already stressed wards. It was Ben who came through it, a dark-skinned beta with rectangular glasses and dreadlocks that fell down to his shoulders. He was looking at his phone as he entered, a stack of mail clutched in his other hand as it hung at his side. Without the keen sense of smell of an alpha- or even omega- he was the last to realize the thick air of unease that filled the room. He looked up at the room full of wide, round stares, and shuffled backward through the doorway, sheepish.

”Sorry.” He said. “I thought you’d be in finishing lessons by now.”

”Finishing.” Vinter repeated, and checked his watch. “No, you’re right Ben. We’re late.” 

He stood, then, and addressed the group.

”Alright.” He said. “We’re late for lessons, so everyone please make your way upstairs. If you need to use the restroom, Ben can unlock it for you, but let’s try to be quick.”

[queenmeriadoc]

Man watched cute barista make coffee from across the room

Man unable to speak when it’s his time to order because of said barista

Merry Vinter: Louis? Coffee?

Louis Oakley: Huh?

[allthatisleftinthedark]

As Maisie attentively listens, she acknowledges the updates regarding the other party's world with occasional, soft nods and quiet commentary like "Is that so?" With composure retained, she remains relatively unchanged throughout his talking, though her gaze occasionally flickers from the now-dressed elf to the surroundings behind him. 

Despite the limited view in the mirror, the gnome learned early that every interior can tell a story. The bathroom showcases exquisite marble walls and tiles, each exterior beading with fresh dew and steam wafting over the surfaces. Droplets gently roll down a sizable pillar to the furthest left corner. Though Maisie cannot gain a full scope of the room, she glimpses the ceiling that rivals the soaring arches of churches and temples she has seen. A closed door is visible to the left of the pillar, likely leading to the bedroom. Hopefully, it is livelier than this room's dreary and completely monochromatic white palette. For a moment, her calm expression cracks as she grimaces. It only serves as a reminder of that city, with spires breaking the sun's rays and splitting apart clouds. That place is a black mark on the sun.

From his peripheral vision, the champion may notice that Maisie rests one of her hands on her upper thigh while the other remains out of sight. Her serene countenance is a picture of tranquility. However, the reflection intermittently distorts, rippling with small waves, and the intervals between each ripple are regular and precise. The "line," as Maisie termed it, changes after each tide.  "Mister De Vinter, do not mind the attunements," Maisie pardons herself. "Tethering the connection means that the image becomes clearer."

In the night's backdrop, Seraph can now distinguish the distant pinpricks of stars instead of the earlier blurred twinkles in the night canvas five minutes ago. Looming behind the gnome is a tree of impressive stature; its robust dark trunk is marked by several deep fissures, supporting a dense, deep green canopy large enough to obscure daylight, leaving only dappling shades as evidence that the sun is out. However, it is the time of shadows now. The only sign of life emanates from the tree, which is dual-toned ku-ku. Beyond this solitary giant, the land hints at either being on the edge of a forest or nestled within a secluded clearing in its depths. All too apparent is that the tree is at the heart of the meadow, and Maisie Doscedar is in its presence.

Despite the warmth in good company, that revelation chills her blood, sending a shiver down her mortal body. Names so forbidden they are considered taboo. Maisie considers them akin to fables meant to scare children. She thinks once upon a time, at least.

When Makoto's eyes mirror the same red hue that devotees cry at the battlefront for the throne, she feels all the smaller and isolated. It serves as a reminder of how much her life has changed and how many others could be affected if she isn't careful. The precarious nature of war and any future entanglement with it will have dire consequences that ripple outwards.

"Mister Igarashi did indeed inform me that he had spoken with your companions during your coma." Maisie unwittingly reverts to formal manners. "However, he omitted that you three were dragged into that realm." She stops, her lips pressing together in thought. "Perhaps he deemed it inconsequential for me not to know such details," she says, her eyes diverting.

Why would he feel compelled to disclose such information? His reluctance and belligerence at the tower made that ever more evident. He has been pushed before and shouldn't be again; no one should be forced to talk about what they don't want to. 

As the conversation returned to the subject of Makoto, her eyes flitted back to Seraph. "He speaks, acts, and even visits on his terms and time. There are no set expectations, and I would rather he not feel under compulsion to divulge more than he is comfortable with. All I hope is that he knows he can talk freely with me about anything, no matter how profound or mundane the topic may be."

A knowing hum rings from her, "Mister Igarashi is aware that he's always welcomed the Doscedar home. Why else would he frequently fly from Rivera to visit?" 

Upon mentioning that name, the woman falls silent as if something stings her. She responds, "Of course," without indicating whom she refers to.

Seraph may spot how quickly Maisie's attitude ricochets from afar to glee upon the last question asked. She is already adjusting her posture and sits upright, both hands resting on her thighs. Almost as if she's preparing for a lecture. 

"Unlike your party, nothing melds us together. No divine intervention or anything mundane placed us in those circumstances. Obligations tether us to our paths, and none of ours converge. If my course sees that I must travel alongside 'Koto, then it shall be. But my duty is here while his in his father's court." 

With a delighted sigh, she rests one hand above her heart, beginning her tale, "Officially, I am the ambassador to Dewburrow. I serve on behalf of my village... Well, our village, really. It's a quaint settlement in the northwestern-most part of Argyll right before Sidheanholm." 

"Understandably, emissiarial duties are conflated to a township's political interests as most would make surface-level assumptions." Her hands take turns moving, returning to rest on her legs before she rolls her wrist or flattens her palm. "Not only would the one responsible keep this in mind, but they are also representatives. Cultural and social aspects are extensively considered by virtue of the fact that we are extensions and placeholders for an entire community. It's a common saying that we're bridges from our small place to the rest of the world." 

She leans in slightly. "In reality, I am like an abutment that supports a bridge. One cannot simply lay out bricks, call it safe passage, and expect people to pass through without the threat of it collapsing. Being an ambassador is about more than diplomacy and negotiations. We are tethers." 

"For most, this would be straining, and I do not deny how sensitive my work can be. Alas, this is my duty. For what the village has provided and given to me, it is the least I can do." She ends with a content sigh, though her eyes linger elsewhere on the ground as she speaks. 

"Now, concerning you," her gaze returns to Seraph, her gloved and closed hand rests against her chin. "Are you three eating well? Are you managing to get enough hours of sleep and all that?"

"Well, as far as things go...I'm busy trying to figure out all of my new abilities...For the time being, I've lost my ability to fly, but in it's place, I can jump up to forty feet in the air. I can still cast magic pretty damn well."

Seraph hadn't really gotten a good look at Maisie back in the tower, but now, he finds himself taking in her features. The first thing that strikes him is the color of her hair, much brighter, fuller than his companion Sino's. Of course, he knew about the bleaching and what little Sino has talked about in regards to her past...He's come to understand a bit more, though he's been trying to learn more on his own. Then there's the outfits that Maisie wears, robes, more befitting someone who uses magic, though he's aware that she's trained in the use of a rapier, evidenced by their battle against the Red Raven within the tower.

Sino's got an outfit more befitting of long periods of travel, and close combat. Though he knows she hangs back and takes enemies out from afar. She's also got a bit more muscle than Maisie. Though Maisie certainly travels as well, but with her more formal clothing he assumes she has some sort of experience in diplomat work. He does note the goggles in her hair. He's a little surprised at that, but perhaps she needs them depending on where she goes.

"Things are definitely interesting...I spent two weeks in a coma, talking with he who shall not be named and...It's definitely interesting. I'm surprised Makoto didn't tell you that we were dragged into his realm. However temporary it might've been...It's not something I'll forget any time soon."

He hadn't mentioned talking to Khorne to the others, no need to give them more things to worry about in regards to him. He feels his skin crawling at the memory of Khorne wearing his face, though of course...He made some modifications. More befitting of what he felt would fit Seraph. Rippling muscle, horns grown from the side of his head along with sharper teeth and a lot more scars than he currently held. Blood dripped from clawed hands, and the smile on his face was far too wide and filled with teeth for his liking.

"I know he's a handful...But I think you can read him well enough. Sino certainly knows how to read me, and I'd be surprised if you weren't the same with him. Just...Give him time. He'll open up eventually, if he's anything like me, when he wants to be, he can actually be pretty personable."

[Though, I don't have anything approaching the body count he has. I shudder to think about how much blood he has on his hands, even if...Even if it's from war.]

"Keep an eye on him and the other one, Salphan. I know that they get along with each other like oil and water, if his bleeding thoughts are any indication."

Seraph doesn't mention that Makoto views Salphan as competition of some sort. Though that was more subtle than the overwhelming annoyance he held for the black haired elf who had basically insulted not only him, but his father. He thinks about how dragons can hold on to grudges, and it was the same for dragonborn. Combined with his "brother's" legendary lack of patience for others on a good day, nature as a demispirit and Khorne in his ear...He's surprised Makoto hadn't gone off and tried killing the other yet.

"So, what exactly do you do Miss Doscedar? I know that you don't travel with Makoto, because you two just met, right?"