#keep prisoners safe that would have otherwise landed in a lot of trouble with gangs (as in actual criminal gangs).)

[theauthorlives]

OOC: I wasn't to clutter OP's tags but regarding what I just reblogged.

I really did have a moment where I realised there's a chance that my love of G.uzma from 2016 might have influenced my immediate pull to Y.ancy in 2019. They have a lot in common, when I think about it.

[uwuwriting]

TW: Shibuya arc SPOILERS *and my very mediocre writing that’s deteriorating as days pass*

“You’re late.” Chattering and giggles filled the air as hundreds of people poured in and out of the train station, all dressed in their costumes for the holiday awaiting them. Your foot tapped on the tiles as you stared at your husband who was strolling up to you with a sheepish smile on his lips and before you knew it he was dipping down for a kiss, lips softly connecting with yours in a form of an apology. 

“Eight minutes princess, it’s my charm.” He smiled at you again, linking his pinky with yours as he led you deeper underground, cursed energy becoming thicker the further you descended. Intertwining your fingers you gave them a firm squeeze, grounding yourself more than anything else. Of course, he squeezed back tugging at your hand to bring you closer, keeping you glued to his side, head remaining locked on the path in front of him. You could feel his nervousness. He would never show it -and god forbid he ever admitted it- but it was there lingering in the back of his mind. Thoughts of leading you into a situation in which he couldn’t fully protect you, putting you in danger or even worse getting you injured. He couldn’t care less about himself, the only thing occupying his mind while fighting was always you. His palms were getting sweaty and he feared that you could feel it. Maybe he should let go before you make a comment about it. But try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself; he didn’t want to anyways. “It’s gonna be fine.” 

Mindlessly nodding your head, you held on even tighter, almost cutting his blood circulation. The air had become heavy, almost suffocating, as you stepped into the platform, swarms of people occupying the platform, patiently waiting for the train to arrive. Nothing seemed amiss. The huge amounts of cursed energy said otherwise. Scanning the room, your eyes bounced from head to head until they landed on a mop of sky blue hair followed by a pair of mismatched orbs. Mahito was a pain in the ass. His presence meant trouble and lots of it. When patchface smirked at you all hell broke loose. 

Another pair of special grade curses appeared ganging up on Satoru as you were completely ignored, the volcano head that had attacked him a while back going all out on him as revenge for its decapitation. There wasn’t enough space for Satoru to move around freely, screams and yelps coming from the crowd as they watched everything unravel in utter horror, their legs rooted to the floor. Leaping into action you took it upon yourself to distract Mahito who was having a blast disfiguring poor bystanders in an attempt to get Gojo to surrender. The curse mocked you, belittled your abilities as it dodged your attacks, your anger surging with every innocent soul lost to its cursed technique. You could hear Gojo fighting behind you, the other two special grades spewing nonsense at him while blasting out enormous amounts of cursed energy. He evaded every single one, maneuvering his body this way and that making the curses completely miss their target and before you knew it, one of them was exorcised. You watched in triumph as the plant curse crumbled to the floor, eyes locking with Satoru’s in a silent ‘are you okay’ only for a cheeky grin to be shot your way. Rolling your eyes you went back to attacking Mahito, landing a handful of blows before Gojo’s voice boomed through the station.

“Y/N. Behind me. Now!” Asking no questions, you rushed to him, his fingers circling your wrist as he activated his domain, exorcising every minor curse in the span of a few milliseconds, his eyes frantic, an expression you had only seen once before on his face. Gojo Satoru was livid. Making your way through the frozen crowd you noticed him stopping dead in his tracks looking at something on the ground. 

“Prison Realm Open.” And from the shadows emerged a face you thought you would never see in person again. His robes swished as he moved, saluting Satoru before turning towards you flashing his infamous grin. You both could only stare in awe as your dead friend from all those years ago paraded through the crowd, the words leaving his lips falling on deaf ears, your breaths coming out shallow. Dark liquid wrapped around Gojo, forcing him to stay still, his arms glued to his sides and despite his efforts, he couldn’t break free. He let Geto - or the thing that looked like him- blabber away, eyes frantic in search of yours the only thought prevalent in his mind being you and your safety. 

Finally catching your attention, he begged you to go, leave, get somewhere safe, somewhere away from here. When you simply shook your head he mouthed the words which soon turned to whispers, ‘go’ dripping from his lips like a mantra but you didn’t budge, slowly moving towards him in an attempt to get him free. 

“Y/N-chan I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Getou turned to you then, a sick grin spreading across his face when his eyes landed on the matching rings on your fingers. He let out a chuckle before looking back at Gojo. “Time’s up lover boy.” 

Gojo’s last word was ripped from his throat. He wanted to say more. Remind you of his love but he could only scream for you to go before he was sucked into the cursed cube, the tears running down your cheeks being the last thing he saw. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-arcana-fan-fic​​ @angelwritings​​ @threeamwriting​​​ @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses​​ @wolfkid22​​​  @reinyrei​​​ @dnarez​​​ @axerrri​​​ @storage11037​​​ @ysatrap​​​ @angel6786​​​  @aliteama​​​  @yashinosakura​​​ @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron

[bluerosesburnblue]

Your Jacob’s Character by @hufflepunk-asfrick and (spiritually) MC Character Challenge by @cptaincarswell (neither of whom will actually be tagged because the ship sailed on these months ago and I don’t want to clutter their notifications)

Rules: Make a collage of characters that summarize what you headcanon your MC’s brother, Jacob to be like! Tag who you want to see do this

and

Rules: Choose five characters (movie or tv show) that represent your MC/ MC’s different layers.

So uhhhhhhhhhh... here’s the thing. I was tagged in the Jacob Character Challenge by @wilhelminafujita and indirectly by @batgirl-87 a long ass time ago. I was also tagged by @batgirl-87 in the MC Character Challenge but I don’t... watch enough TV or movies to actually do that one all the way! So I’ve gone ahead and merged the two challenges into just a collage of five characters for both of them

Explanations for the choices below!

We’re going clockwise from the top of each collage

Jacob Caradoc Dwyn

Ephemer (Kingdom Hearts series)

I made a direct comparison a long time ago, but tell me if this is familiar: an overly curious boy goes missing while investigating a huge conspiracy and you spend most of the prequel mobile game he stars in hunting his ghosting ass down while he occasionally sends you vision messages

The similarities go way beyond just their roles, though. Ephemer is a big conspiracy theorist who hates not knowing things and will do whatever it takes to hunt down the truth

Most people thought he was absolutely crazy, as you do when someone tells you that they think you’re all secretly being sent into holographic simulations when you go on missions (but he was also totally right)

He’s also notoriously overconfident in combat. You meet Ephemer because he decided to take on a monster way stronger than he was and got seriously hurt. But at least he’s self-aware enough to admit it (but also... is really gung-ho about fighting things in the current arc...)

He’s a genuinely nice guy but not above needling people to get the information he wants from them

Loyal as hell to the people he cares about and protective of them. Like, he really doesn’t know your Avatar all that well but still rushes out onto a battlefield to save you and volunteers himself to go on a potentially deadly mission with you just so that you won’t have to go alone

...buuuuuuut he’s not above going off on his own without telling anyone in an attempt to keep them “safe” and then getting into serious trouble for it

Is currently having a panic attack because he was placed in charge of a gang of teenagers and has to be The Responsible One™ but clearly hates it, which is what I imagine Jacob would do if you ever made him a leader in any capacity

Messy hair and an adorable smile

Honestly it’d be easier to list the things that Jacob and Ephemer don’t have in common. I didn’t intentionally base Jacob off of him but I won’t deny that a lot of Ephemer probably influenced Jacob’s character

Sokka (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Sokka’s on here mostly due to his relationship with his little sister, Katara. Jacob’s relationship with Seren is a very strong mirror to the Southern Water Tribe siblings

He’s really smart, but because he’s also very goofy a lot of people tend to overlook just how much creativity and ingenuity he brings to the table

No, Sokka’s seriously one of the smartest members of the cast. There’s a reason they call him “the ideas guy.” He knows when to get serious and break out the logic and reason. It’s never stopped him from being a loud, boisterous goofball, though

Cursed by the universe to a lifetime of misfortune

Sokka is very loyal and protective to his younger sister, but because she’s generally more emotionally measured it comes across like she’s taking care of him. And he knows that and really loves her for it, but it just makes him want to take care of her more, since that should be his job

They bicker a lot, but in the end they’re completely inseparable

Ellie (Up)

A bit of an unorthodox choice, but Ellie really is the physical embodiment of Jacob’s excitement to travel and Hufflepuff hard-working nature in a lot of ways

Ellie has huge dreams of exploring distant lands and she goes at it with such gusto that it’s completely infectious

Some people would argue that it’s overwhelming, but Ellie doesn’t really care about their opinion. She’s doing it for her own satisfaction!

When she falls in love with Carl, her goal changes to having both of them go on the trip together in much the same way that Jacob would really prefer traveling with his precious little sister, Seren, than by himself because they’re a team

She saves up her whole life for this trip. She never once gives up on it entirely. Despite the setbacks, despite the fact that she passed away before ever even accomplishing her goal, she was always working towards that great adventure

Sherlock Holmes (Ace Attorney Series - The Great Ace Attorney/Dai Gyakuten Saiban)

I am... so glad that I didn’t make this until after the fan translation for DGS came out because hoooooooo boy does Ace Attorney Sherlock give me mad Jacob Dwyn vibes

(I was always going to make Jacob a huge Sherlock Holmes fan so this worked out way too perfectly)

Ace Attorney Sherlock is legitimately very perceptive and good at picking up on minute details, but because he’s so overzealous about his detective work he has a tendency to jump to conclusions a little too fast and usually ends up having to be redirected by his more calm partner

Once you get him on the right track, though, he’s an unstoppable crime-solving machine (with the bonus ability of being really damn good at sleight-of-hand stuff)

He’s also hugely eccentric. Would Jacob Dwyn just hang from the wall by a hook while wearing an expensive tiara for the hell of it during an investigation? Ooooooh yes

Jacob’s a lot less wildly inaccurate, though, because he does genuinely want to solve the crimes to the best of his ability

I am absolutely certain that Jacob wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone he knows about all of the mysteries he’s solved with his sister because guys. Guys it was so cool. Yes, I am THE Jacob Dwyn of the Dwyn Detective Agency please pay attention to my cool job

Sherlock is a Good Dad and Jacob is a Good Brother. Case Closed.

Ant-Man/Scott Lang (Marvel Cinematic Universe - Ant Man)

By this point you should be seeing a pattern. Smart, creative guy who’s also pretty goofy who has a younger female character that he loves greatly

Scott, though, isn’t above doing a lot of really sneaky stuff and taking unscrupulous jobs to get to his (admittedly pretty noble) goals. He adds that slight bit of moral edge we were missing from the Jacob equation. Not much, but some

Like I just think of the scene where Scott uses a bunch of creative methods to break into Pym’s house. Methods that require a lot of knowledge of security systems and science

He also does not let the rules stop him from doing what he thinks is right. It’s how he ended up in prison in the first place

Jacob Dwyn would unironically get very excited about a “Time Heist” and you can’t convince me otherwise

Also, the snark and quips. Can’t forget that Jacob’s an incorrigible sarcastic doofus

What can I say? Scott’s undying loyalty to his daughter matches Jacob’s undying loyalty for his sister perfectly

(We are all very lucky that Jacob wants to solve crimes because he would be way too good at doing crimes)

Seren Aisling Dwyn

Saoirse (Song of the Sea)

It wouldn’t have been right to make this list without including one of the characters that inspired Jacob and Seren in the first place and Seren fit Saoirse better than Jacob fit her brother, Ben

Song of the Sea is an Irish film about the two kids of a Selkie mother and a human father, who hides their heritage from them when their mother disappears (note: Jacob and Seren’s mom does not disappear). This hidden heritage causes Saoirse a lot of physical problems (i.e. rendering her mute, making her physically grow weaker the longer she’s apart from her seal’s coat), just like Seren’s hidden Siren heritage causes her to completely fail to address her additional needs that leads to a lot of unintentional illness in her Hogwarts years

Ben and Saoirse have to try and get back home so that Saoirse can sing the Song of the Sea and sent the Fair Folk home. That’s where I got the idea for Jacob and Seren to go wandering off alone as kids and encountering a bunch of magical creatures during their adventures from

Ben totally hated Saoirse until later in the movie, which inspired Jacob hating Seren after she’s born but warming up to her in a few months

Personality-wise, Saoirse may look sweet and quiet, but she’s a huge ball of sass. It’s just easy to miss because she only conveys it in her facial expressions, which is something that Seren’s always done, too

She also doesn’t follow their grandmother’s rules well. She’ll go along with things to a point, but the second she doesn’t agree she’ll strike off on her own and get it done by herself despite how tiny she is

(A lot of younger!Seren was inspired by Saoirse)

When given the opportunity to leave with the Faeries and her mother, she chooses to stay behind with her brother and father because she loves them, and while Seren isn’t fond of either of her parents, she would stay behind for Jacob

Yew Geneolgia (Bravely Second)

Okay... look, I promise that I didn’t just base Seren off of Yew because I made her before finishing Bravely Second but...

Playing Bravely Second was an experience after making Seren

So my boy Yew Geneolgia is the youngest member of a noble and prestigious house, was never expecting to inherit it because he had an older (half-)brother so he went to magic school and ended up being, like, the smartest student there, to the point where they had to give him a secret special ranking on the school ranking system because he was tooooo smart at magic (*cough* Seren singlehandedly winning the House Cup every year *cough*)

Of course their father doesn’t want to let Yew’s brother inherit anything because he’s not a pureblood noble (and the Dwyn siblings aren’t pureblood wizards). Yew’s brother disappears hunting down a sword in order to earn his way back into the family

Yew goes hunting the sword down to try and bring his brother home and surprise surprise it’s CURSED

(The Geneolgia siblings are not a perfect match to the Dwyn siblings but there are a LOT of similar elements there)

After his brother goes missing again after finding Yew with the cursed sword, Yew decides that he’s just going to try and be his older brother by taking up his place as a swordsman despite sucking at it. In Year 4, Seren decides that everyone just wants Jacob and not her, so she starts modeling herself after him more until she can’t keep it up anymore in late Year 5

So a small, young magic nerd who’s extremely awkward in social situations whose story revolves around a missing older brother that they attempt to emulate, unsuccessfully

Also, Yew is the one making all of the Bestiary entries. He’s clearly got an interest in Zoological stuff and he’s a very good artist since he does all of the illustrations in there, too

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III (How to Train Your Dragon Series)

Hey speaking of Zoology did you know that Seren was into Magizoology and is very good at befriending creatures? It’s true!

Seren in her early years at Hogwarts is very similar to Hiccup from the first film. She’s shy, but undeniably witty and sarcastic. Her self-confidence is extremely low because she keeps getting compared to more successful family members. Her strengths come from her intelligence and being able to look at things from angles others might not, like extending empathy to creatures that most would hate

She’d never be able to hurt a dragon like Toothless come on. He’s too cute. Too sweet

As she gets older she still matches up with Hiccup, though. He finds himself being thrust into a leadership position and having to adjust, but doing so gracefully and with emotional maturity in much the same way that Seren steps up to lead the Cursed Vault crew when she needs to

You have to be pretty fearless to step up to a dragon that could bite your head off and then learn to fly on it, and when it comes down to it Seren is just as fearless in anything that is not a social interaction

I’m sorry, did I just hear SELF-SACRIFICIAL TENDENCIES? Why yes, yes I do believe that I did

And Hiccup will never, ever give up on Toothless no matter what. No matter what the dragon does (or is forced to do in the second film). Just like Seren will never give up on Jacob. No matter the cost

Ema Skye (Ace Attorney Series - Apollo Justice)

I know that Ema was in Spirit of Justice, too, but I don’t know anything about that one so I’m only covering her appearances chronologically up to Apollo Justice

I didn’t realize until watching someone’s blind playthrough of Apollo Justice recently just how much Seren was like Ema

So Ema starts off strong already as A Very Devoted Little Sister who absolutely refuses to believe that her older sister is guilty of a crime despite her sister confessing to it

(She ended up being right and her sister was blackmailed into covering it up which was honestly my default situation for the Dwyn siblings before the Portrait Vault chapter came out. Ema’s sister was being blackmailed with evidence that could implicate Ema with murder, Jacob would have been blackmailed with Seren’s safety. Which is still true, I suppose, but we’ll see how this holds up later)

She’s very passionate about forensic science in the same way that I imagine Seren can be in her own interests like Magizoology and later on the development of forensic magic

Almost a decade later, though, and Ema is... super jaded and grouchy. She’s sarcastic and kinda rude, but lights up again if you get her talking about her interests

She also doesn’t have her dream job but is instead... a detective. though Seren’s a lot more content as a detective than Ema is because she’s got Jacob and a license to do creature-related cases

But just the progression from the innocent kid to the jaded adult detective is... such a good match that I just had to put Ema in here

Katara (Avatar the Last Airbender)

And just like Jacob had Sokka, Seren gets Katara to round it off

There might be something to be said about the Southern Water Tribe siblings and the Dwyn Siblings both being linked to water as an element

I already covered a lot of this in Jacob’s section, but they have a similar dynamic

Katara is a Mom Friend extraordinaire who obsessively takes care of everyone in the group, even when it’s not her place to. A lot of them find it overbearing sometimes

While she’s generally fairly mature and level-headed, when she gets mad she gets absolutely furious and cannot be stopped until she’s satisfied

“You can’t knock me down!” is such an iconic line and very much embodies Seren’s stubbornness and determination to get back up and keep trying no matter what

She loves her brother. She’s not above criticizing him or the occasional jab, but she also knows when to give him credit for the incredibly smart things that he does. Nobody will defend him quite as hard as she will when she has to

The lovable, goofy, intelligent, protective older brother and the equally intelligent, mature, caring, stubborn younger sister. There’s no better way to describe the Dwyn Siblings than that

[caffeineivore]

Mojito

Senshi/shitennou (specifically A/Z this time), AU Angst, Crime, Drinks. Written a few years back for ficathon. PG-13.

--------------------------------

“Every life has one true love snapshot.” - Mitch Albom, The Five People You Meet In Heaven

***

It’s not much of a bar, really. There are no pool tables, no jukeboxes playing twangy country songs about love gone wrong. There are no dance or karaoke stages, no busty shot girls, not even four full walls. The sign overhead is in simple block letters, not a hint of neon lighting to be seen. The Crossroads is an unobtrusive little oasis in the midst of O’Hare’s busy terminals, and Zavier, though he meets and serves people from all walks of life, keeps himself separate from them-- a polite arms’ length at all times. He doesn’t doubt that they all have fascinating histories and tales to tell, but it’s better and safer this way.

He’s just cashing out a harried-looking businessman whose death grip on his iPad wasn’t ever relinquished, even for a second, through the course of two Sazerac’s, when she walks in.

Zavier’s first impression of her is understated class. Quietly expensive sapphire studs in her ears. A slim silver wrist-watch. Her carry-on luggage matches her purse precisely, though neither are emblazoned with flashy hardware or designer labels. A slim figure in a dark blue cashmere coat. Black hair. A heart-shaped face that is all sad blue eyes. Nervous hands with sensibly short nails.

Ten years ago, she would have meant not much more to him than one picked pocket or brandished switchblade away from quick cash.

Now, something about her catches his attention.

“I’d like a glass of Sancerre, please,” she tells him as she takes a seat at the bar. “Or just-- I don’t know-- whatever dry white wine you have available.”

She looks young-- early twenties, perhaps a few years younger than himself-- but that’s not the only reason he quirks a smile and asks for ID. The driver’s license shows her name to be Anderson, Amy M.,with an address in one of the ritzy towers on North Lake Shore Drive, aged twenty-two as of September 10th. She looks up into his face and he swears that he can feel the faint scar-- the location of a former teardrop tattoo and a souvenir of the fateful knife-fight eight years back that had landed him in prison-- on his left cheekbone throbbing.

Instead, he focuses on her, cocks his head to the side. “You don’t seem so sure of what you want.”

“Well, I’m not too much for the party scene, I’m afraid,” Amy M. Anderson murmurs, fiddles with the leather handle of her purse. “I’ve had wine on a few formal occasions, and I know that I like white better than red. I wouldn’t know what to order otherwise, you see? And... this sounds so terrible, but I think I just need a little... boost, if you will. To get on the plane.”

“I’ll make you something nice,” he tells her gently. “You’re usually one who knows what you want, I think. But this-- as you say-- this isn’t quite your scene.” He picks up a clean highball glass and some lime, some mint leaves. Something about her cool, fresh beauty suits a drink with a bit more class, takes a bit more skill, than a typical, ordinary fruity concoction. Many bartenders dislike making mojitos-- there is such a delicate balance when muddling mint and limes to release their essence without damaging them-- they take too much time and effort. The drink he slides across the bar a few moments later sparkles, brilliantly green mint leaves and lime wedges in perfect suspension in the iced soda and rum. She takes a cautious sip, then smiles faintly up into his equally green eyes.

“It’s good,” Amy M. Anderson says as she takes another sip. “You’re good at this. How did you guess? You must have a lot of experience working in bars.”

Zavier chuffs out a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Not exactly. That is a long, boring story. Not good for a busy airport. Where are you headed?”

“Baltimore,” she answers, taking another sip of her drink. “I’m in my first year of medical school there, at Hopkins.” Another sad, sweet smile. “My plane’s running a bit late due to the weather, but that’s not really why I came here for a-- what is this drink called, by the way?”

“Mojito,” Zavier answers. Medical school in Baltimore. A North Side address. For all they might be residents of the same city, it’s a completely different world. And yet he has the oddest feeling that if she knew, she’d never judge him. Nonetheless, he has never been so grateful that the job requires long sleeves. “It’s made with rum and mint, mainly. And medical school is hard. I don’t think it’s unusual to be nervous.”

“It’s not the courseload,” Amy murmurs, staring down into the glass. “I have never been fazed by hard work, or difficult material. It’s just... not quite what I expected. None of my friends are going to school there. I’m okay with being alone, most of the time, but...” A sigh softer than a snowflake landing on a windowsill, “I never expected medical students to be so-- so arrogant, so elitist. We’re supposed to be the best of the best, studying at the top school to learn how to do good work and save lives. Instead, some of them will actually go out of their way to sabotage each other to make themselves look better. One girl in one of my classes had all of her notes for a whole term shredded.”

The cutthroat mentality, unfortunately, is one that Zavier knows all too well. In the mean streets of the South Side, it had been a way to stay safe-- attack before you are attacked, gain equally mean and untrustworthy peers for the protection of numbers. In prison, it had been a way to buck the system, to gain the respect of other inmates. Being hard often meant the difference between survival and destruction-- hitting first meant you were left alone. Any act of disrespect or defiance demanded retribution, and the cycle could be never-ending.

He watches her finish her drink as he ponders what to say. “You can’t let that get to you,” he finally says, idly wiping down the scant length of the bar. His fingers almost brush hers. “That way lies trouble. I know that many times, it’s easier to be angry than to be peaceful. Stay away from those sorts and protect yourself, but-- know that you’re better. And know that you will make it.” He takes her empty glass and meets her gaze, and smiles-- not the typical customer-service smile-- but as though trying to reassure her that there were still good things in the world-- cool drinks and spotlessly white snowfall and a future where she’ll save lives and he... he’ll perhaps make something of himself. There’s less than a foot between their faces-- he has no right to come any closer. So he straightens and wills himself not to stare at the way the rum brings a flush to her cheeks. “Someday, you’ll save those lives and help all the people whom you’ve always wanted to help. And everything else won’t matter.”

She cocks her head to the side and returns his smile, and he has the feeling he’s seeing something rare and precious as her lips quirk up. “You’re quite wise,” she says softly. “I don’t think you’re much older than I am, but you seem like you know a lot. Met a lot of people, experienced a lot of things.”

“Yes.” He doesn’t elaborate. She wouldn’t be shocked and appalled, he doesn’t think, but it is precisely the trust in those wide blue eyes that has him feeling ashamed of his past. Trust isn’t something often handed to him-- he can count with the fingers on one hand the number of people who’ve truly trusted him in his twenty-four years. And never before had it been so easily, willingly given. “I... I suppose I’m pretty good at reading people.” Not really in the best of ways, though, and he can’t bring himself to admit it to her.

“That’s a skill I wish I had more of,” she laughs softly. “Well, I appreciate the pep talk,” Amy M. Anderson reaches into her tidy purse, slides an American Express across the counter. Her signature belies the stereotype of doctors and their terrible handwriting, and she leaves a generous tip. She puts the card back into her wallet, but proffers a slim hand. “Thank you-- and, oh, I never did catch your name.”

“Zavier. Zavier Reyes.” Despite the winter gloom outside and the chilled glass she’d been holding, her hand is warm and soft in his. On impulse, instead of shaking it, he brings her hand up to his lips for a kiss, and is then charmed at the way her cheeks flush crimson. “Perhaps we’ll meet again.”

“I-- I’d like that,” she draws back and picks up her things. “Thank you, again.” She gets up from her seat, but instead of leaving right away, stands by the stool for a moment and smiles. “I feel a bit better now. Maybe someday I’ll be able to return the favour.”

He doesn’t let that give him any sort of hope, but he meets her gaze and nods. “Have a safe flight, Miss Anderson.”

“Amy.” With that, she makes her way out of the Crossroads, and he watches her until she disappears around a corner. He glances up at the big blue screen which lists all incoming and outgoing domestic flights, notes the estimated time of arrival for the next one out to Baltimore, and temporarily puts it out of his mind as he pulls a Budweiser draft for his next customer.

He doesn’t let himself think about it until he finishes his shift, and makes his way from O’Hare to the South Side on the Blue Line. It’s a long trip on a mostly empty train, and it’s easy for his mind to wander. Amy has no idea that the long sleeves of his shirt conceal old gang tattoos, or that he is on the final year of his probation. When she was probably busy studying for her PSATs, he was getting sentenced to five years in prison after pleading guilty to assault with a deadly weapon after a gang fight gone south as opposed to getting charged with attempted murder. Undoubtedly, she’d spent her senior year of high school interviewing with colleges, while he’d spent a good three months of what would have been his in Administrative Segregation in a prison six hours away from Chicago, angry and defiant and unrepentant, getting into fights and running the illicit tobacco racket on the inside.

It had been an ambush by two older, harder felons armed with homemade shanks which had landed him in the hospital wing for more than a month. He’d woken up to see Warden Shana Maynard sitting in a chair by the cot, looking down at him with inscrutable dark eyes.

“You know, Reyes, there’s only one route for you if you keep doing things the way you’re doing right now.” She doesn’t mince words. “I’ve seen people die in here. They’re oftentimes too young, too healthy, to go when they do. It’s never pretty.” Briskly, she hands him a water cup from the stand next to the cot. His hands are chained to the railing, so she holds it so he can sip through the straw. “You almost did, you know. They stabbed you five times. Twenty-seven stitches total, and one of the cuts missed your heart by an inch. You keep doing this, your luck will run out real quick.”

He can’t hold that searing, intense gaze, and looks away. His eyes land on a book on the stand. Hers follow, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see an enigmatic smile.

“It’s called Terra Nostra-- Our Earth. It’s written by a Mexican author-- I think you’ll like it. Learn something about your world, be proud of your roots. I’m leaving it here with you.” Usually, when dealing with particularly difficult prisoners, there are at least three officers on hand when handcuffs are removed. Perhaps the Warden is foolish, or just very brave. Instead of calling in any COs, she stands, an elegant woman in a dark suit who’d look more at home in a boardroom than anywhere associated with the Illinois Department of Corrections, then reaches over Zavier’s wrist and unlocks them herself. “Think about what you’re doing with the rest of your life, Reyes. You’re not even eighteen yet. Don’t be stupid and throw it all away.”

He ends up cracking the book open out of sheer boredom a few hours later. And then doesn’t set it down until lights-out. During his recovery, almost miraculously, a new book would always appear on the nightstand just as he’d be close to finishing the old one. And when he was moved back to his cell, there was a copy of Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment that had not been there before waiting for him.

By the time that he had been up for parole, he’d managed to get his GED and a good start on college-level courses. It had been the Warden who’d introduced him to Damien Churchill, who would become his parole officer, and then Damien who’d found him a job and a place to live.

Now, Zavier disembarks from the Clark-Lake stop on the Blue Line and transfers to the Orange Line, which will take him the rest of the way home. The Osa-P Jewelry Store in Chinatown is only a few blocks down Cermak from his old haunts, but the area is free of graffiti and drive-by shootings. Nonetheless, he wonders sometimes that Mrs. Oh, his landlady, trusts him not to case the place. It’s one of many small mercies that he’s grateful for but has little right to expect, at least not yet.

The snow falls silently outside as he leaves the station, and a nearby clock chimes the hour. Amy M. Anderson, with her delicate hands and her clear, soft eyes, would be in Baltimore by now. Zavier stuffs his hands into his pockets as he treks the few blocks to his flat, and wistfully thinks of his mother’s injunction-- every Sunday when he visits her-- to find himself a nice girl.

He has no right to think of the lovely, wistful Amy M. Anderson in that way, because she’s making something of herself, and it is bordering on sacrilege for someone so tainted to crave something so pure. Indeed, she’s just one of countless people who pass through the Crossroads in O’Hare. He may never see her again.

The wind picks up, and perhaps it is his imagination, but he can almost catch a whiff of fresh peppermint, cool and bracing, and he straightens and quickens his steps. He may never see her again, but if he does, hopefully it will be in a time and place where he can look into her eyes without shame.

Someday...