#( amelia oshea )

[crimsongodss]

open: to all, neutral territory 

Some poor guy’s left his wallet on the bar and quick fingers manage to swipe it up. Amelia turns to lean against the cool marble counter as she thumbs through the contents of the leather wallet that’s been forgotten abandoned. 

Next to her; the ice in her Negroni melts, already a relic of a meeting that went well enough. Her guest is at least ten minutes gone and she’ll linger if only to have a moment to herself (certainly not for the drink.) But if peace is what she’s looking for, she’s always been bad at it; Amelia finds that one thing will always be true:

Idle hands are the devil’s playthings.

ID, gift card, photo, business cards - She feels eyes on her. Her hands still as she peers over the health insurance card that she holds. Amelia raises an eyebrow and keeps a stoic expression.

“This yours?” It wasn’t. “I was just about to return it.” Lies. “I’ve never really had a stomach for petty theft.” She smiles. 

[crimsongodss]

She inhales at the sight of the gnarl of scars. She hates that tricky thing called nostalgia and doesn’t let it prick the corners of her eyes. Amelia has a cooler head than that, but it doesn’t stop her from remembering standing here, years ago, almost falling into the river, because she just had to touch it.

Truth be told, she’s not sure if she wants Red to be right here, right now. In the past few months she’s had nightmares of her father crawling from his grave to judge her for her actions; the reality that stands in front of her is somehow worse. Her father would have been disappointed in her, but Red? Red, it seems, forever look at her with acceptance - and Amelia can’t stand that.

She takes a step closer, because she’s always been one to look her fears on the eye. She scans his face and then pokes him once in the chest with her index finger. “It seems death didn’t treat you too kindly. I —“ She pauses, words caught somewhere in her ribcage. She clears her throat. “Well. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the dead don’t stay dead. You know all about that don’t you Liam?” Her gaze stays on Red thought, worried if she looks away, he’ll slip through her fingers like sand.

“What happened?”

@crimsxnsins

crimsxnsins‌:

When Amelia told him she needed him for backup, he was there by her side in a heartbeat. Regardless of if she was gone for days, months or even years, Liam would be by his sister’s side no matter what. When she told him why she needed him, specifically who she was meeting, he actually thought he was losing his mind and heard her wrong. There was no way she said she was meeting with someone claiming to be Red; all the O’Shea kids knew Red died a long time ago and anyone after the fact heard the “Legend of Red”.

Liam thought this whole meeting was crazy and a waste of time but that didn’t stop him from having his gun in the waistband of his jeans. He was anxious about this whole thing and when he got anxious, as he now learned, made the wound in his stomach hurt a little more; on top of that, the anticipation of this meeting rose the closer they got to the meeting point. Liam could see Amelia readjusting her glove and was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one on edge about this. Liam spots the man and it really did feel like he was seeing a ghost, “Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath.

@polcrity​

in cuba, they don’t do this whole emerald sea thing. in cuba, they do… well, nothing. because in all honesty? red’s pretty sure he was the closest thing to an irishman in cuba before a few weeks ago. there’s a warmth in his chest that comes along with the memories of a little girl with blonde hair shoving her fingers into the water– and a younger red with a little more hair and a little less flesh around his midsection saying don’t tell your daddy i let you play over here, okay?

it’s like a movie, the whole thing. their distorted shadows stretch and stretch against the wood panels of the pier and if red leaned just the slightest, he could make them all touch like some sweet family portrait. maybe he’s getting too nostalgic again— they were mason’s kids, not his. 

he always was too emotional.

“If you two kiddos make me cry,” he starts. the cigarette previously hanging limply between his thumb and forefinger contorts under a grinding pressure of nervous fingers. “I’m flying my ass back to nowheres-ville fast.”

and with that, he turns. 

the look on his face should read happy, but instead it falls somewhere between nauseated and just plain terrified. brows knit, marbled skin scars pull tighter– if that’s even possible– over the left half of his face.

“Now I know I’m not as pretty as I used to be, but try not to make that face.”

@crimsongodss​

[richieoshea]

Richie waits in the back seat of the car, not trusting himself to drive. After Gio’s head count and Gerry’s disappearance, he just knew. It should concern him that his first thought was not of the man the practically helped raised him but of the information he holds, specifically those of which that concern his new plan with the kinahans. Gerry leaving would damage everything he’s trying to build and that’s not something Richie can let fly. Besides, if it gets back to Liam, it might just prove how he’s unable to manage his own projects. That will not do. 

It’s also a big disrespect against his family with Amelia’s actions a giant rug pulled under them. Richie has to rectify that. He’s sure Saoirse would bring results. With Gerry, though, he has to be a little hands on. 

The driver’s seat opens and Richie’s greeted with Gio. “Who else is coming?” The tone of his voice is something he’s never recognized on him but familiar with those he’s worked with. It doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as it would have before. “I think Gerry defected,” he says, hating the way his heart clenches as the words leave his lips. “He has something I need and I have his location. Are you ready?”

closed @crimsxns​ @holden-mercer @gerald-oshea

[crimsoncityhq]

Welcome back, REY ! You have 12 hours from the time this is posted to get your account sent in, or your character slot will be reopened. We’re super excited to have you and please be sure to follow the checklist !

( blake lively, thirty-five, cis female, she/her, sibling ) Did anyone else just see AMELIA O’SHEA? I hear for the O’SHEA family they can be a bit RUTHLESS & CRUEL. But I also heard they can be CUNNING & AMBITIOUS. If you dare I hear they frequent NORTH COAST FINANCING in their spare time when they aren’t being an CEO of NORTH COAST FINANCING/FORMER OSHEA LEADER. Tread carefully or else you might be next on their list ! ( rey, she/her, 25+, pst, none )

[forgcdsecrets]

You have successfully reached the voice mailbox of Christopher Evans, unfortunately he is unable to take your call right now. Please leave a message after the beep. 

Hello Mister Evans, this is the Chicago Northern Hospital. We have tried calling you serval times as Samuel Mason O'Shea was admitted with us as three-thirty am this morning. You are his first emergency contact and we wish to inform you of the situation as it was made clear to us by Samuel that you were not aware. His second contact brought him in, Amelia, and we request that you contact her and the hospital right away. Hoping to hear from you soon Mister Evans.

End of voice message, to listen again press one. To erase press two. In order to hear your other options press three. 

—————————

He’d been so engrossed in a case he had been working for the past week that he barely had enough time to even see Sammy. Or even Hayden for that matter. This case had been extremely tricky, he knew in his gut that the husband did it, but of course there was no evidence. Which is why it took that much longer; He was in the office going over the case files when he decided he needed a break. 

He pulled out his phone and realized that he had many texts to respond to as well as a few missed calls. There hadn’t been anything from Sammy, which was the weird part, but rather than calling him, he listened to his voicemail first. 

His heart instantly dropped when he listened to the woman on the phone tell him about the fact that Sammy was in the hospital. He didn’t even bother calling the hospital back or Amelia, because he was grabbing his keys and heading out. Within moments he was in his car, and the only thought going through his mind was what the fuck happened?? over and over again, all he could do was think that he was going to be fine. Of course he was going to be fine, it was Sammy they were talking about. He’d been shot last time, had his ear lobe blown off and he was fine. “He’s fine.” he told himself before racing through the streets of Chicago.

In time he reached Chicago Northern Hospital, didn’t even bother looking for parking as he pulled up at the front, his badge ready to show anyone and everyone that he was not here to play. He approached the front desk, and asked for Samuel O’Shea. It took a while longer but the nurse was able to give him a room and rather than waiting for someone to lead him to Sammy’s room, Chris was already on his way. 

He didn’t wait for the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until he reached his floor. He looked around to see if he could find a familiar face, anyone really that could tell him what the hell happened and what the hell Sammy was doing in the hospital, but there was no one he knew. He’d ask the questions later, for now he walked to the room Sammy had been assigned to and didn’t even bother knocking. He was still hoping to find someone at his bedside that could explain all of this. In the end he knew he’d have to contact Amelia – as his voicemail had explained that she was the one to bring him in, but for now, all he could do was slowly approach the bed and feel his heart beating fast. 

The only person he’d ever been worried about this much was Hayden, which is why he couldn’t find himself to say anything. Not yet anyway. The cop side of him wanted to pull his phone out right now and contact his family, ask what the hell happened, but the rational side of him wanted to stay and be there when he woke up. 

“Dammit Sammy, what in the hell did you get yourself into?” he asked quietly before taking a seat. He’d wait. 

He’d wait until a doctor came in.

He’d wait until a member of his family walked in.

He’d wait until a nurse walked in.

He’d wait for him to wake up.

He’d just wait… - @samuel-oshea​

[crimsongodss]

amelia ✉ red: aopz pz h zljbyl spul

amelia ✉ red: doha fvb zhpk av tl pu vul vm vby wylcpvbz jvuclyzhapvuz ohz illu vu tf tpuk h sva shalsf

[crimsongodss]

after rain I amelia & sammy

@samuel-oshea​

He’s the first person she tells because she’s never been able to keep anything from him.

There’s no complications getting to his hospital room, she’s the one that brought him in after all. She’s registered as his emergency contact too (always is), so no one disputes the matter. Amelia’s throat grows dry at the memory of picking Sammy up, bloody and broken, and delivering him to the doorstep of the hospital. She remembers them telling her, not once, but thrice: ‘Ma’am we think you should go home. We’ll tell you if there are any developments’ before it finally sticks. Amelia finds it ironic that Sammy is so angry at her for leaving when he’s so quickly willing to throw himself on death’s doorstep and leave her behind in the land of the living.

“Hey.” She says as she steps into the room. With a click! the door shuts behind her. She has the card Matty’s made for her in her pocket, but she’ll leave that for the end because, quite suddenly, Amelia finds she can’t say much more. Her lungs turn to paper. Razor blades are in her throat. Her recent decisions terrify her but she’s always been resolute. She is not herself if she is not decided.

‘Come with me,�� she thinks loudly as she says, again: “Hey.”

[crimsongodss]

the times I amelia & sloan

Times, they are a changin’. Dylan’s onto something, Amelia thinks as her visitor is welcomed into her office and offered a seat across from her.

It’s mid-day - high noon, If you wanted to be dramatic about it - on a work day, because Amelia is doing everything in her power to make this seem like a very above board meeting. No shady back-alleys, no guns in pockets. This request for a general meeting shows up in her inbox suddenly, and the fact that it happens so quickly after those changing times, has her interest more that piqued; Sloan Washington has her full attention. And thus, Amelia O’Shea is willing to play nice. 

Amelia stands up from behind her desk to shake Sloan’s hand. She reiterates her assistant’s offer for “Water? Tea? Soda?” Before returning to settle in her seat. She and Sloan had always  existed in each other’s peripheries, but familial obligations had kept the a safe distance apart.  

Until now. 

You would think Amelia’s a different person between the four walls of North Coast Financing, but she’s really not. Still distant, still cold, always professional. But Amelia thrives in this element and so there’s no hiding the that layer of comfort that comes with doing what you’re good at.

“Mayor Washington. I appreciate you stopping by and taking the meeting here, I wanted to ensure that we were in a place where we had the freedom to talk about whatever.”

Alright, so she’s in no way being subtle. But Amelia wants to know sooner rather then later whether she’s just signed up for an interrogation.

“How have you been?”

@crimsxnbeau​

[crimsongodss]

She’s a woman who likes to stay two steps ahead of everything but this, this has taken a certain toll on her. But if her blue eyes are tired, it’s impossible to see it. Not a hair out of place, not a crease in her blouse. Amelia sits neatly in the chair offered to her, as cold as ever. She’s oh so aware of the metal of her watch that sits against her wrist, the tick of the second hand like a bomb.

She’s spent weeks sitting on this decision, weeks planning, weeks preparing. Nothing Amelia does is without weeks on weeks of thinking - so this meeting isn’t a negotiation. This is a kindness. A courtesy born of love - even if takes Liam, Aurora and Richard a while to understand this. There’s a thousand ways this could have gone down and this is one with the least collateral damage. Her father might actually call it soft, but isn’t that what this is all about? Amelia was always most like her father and even that six feet of dirt and his death didn’t make her forget it. 

She feels far from him now. 

“I’m leaving.” Amelia says abruptly, with all the warmth of a blizzard, when she has the rooms attention. She’s all business, take no prisoners.

“And to be clear, I’m not leaving Chicago. I’m leaving you.”

@crvmsdecorum​

[crimsongodss]

Amelia never attends these things with an ounce of ease anymore. Quite plainly, this ain’t her first rodeo. Sloan stands in the corner of her eye, and Amelia, who is here with her as a friend, finds it refreshing that both women are the exact kind of independent that the don’t need to be within proximity of each other for the entire night.

Still - Amelia keeps an eye out. Cause she knows how these things go. She wants to terribly be proven wrong that there will be no trouble tonight. Professionally, her future partnership with Sloan exists in a grey area, one riddled with land mines that Amelia navigates the same way she navigates everything - with care and precision. Personally though, Sloan is possibly the first friend she’s had in a while that’s simply been there for the sake of camaraderie. That, coupled with the track record of the city, has Amelia memorizing every escape route, every weapon (intentional or not), and every threat within the square feet of this arboretum so that should something go down, she has a plan. She remembers her text message to Gerald earlier, where she had shared blueprint layouts of the entire space -

Always have a plan.

She finishes her turn of the room and approaches Sloan with a drink for each of them in hand. 

“You should be proud - this evening has come together very well.”

She means that.

“Is it everything you hoped?”

@crimsxnbeau​

[crimsongodss]

💦😳👮 (Amelia, Asher)

AMELIA: 

💦 At what age did my muse lose their virginity?

“It’s pretty straight forward. I was 15, I lost it to my boyfriend at the time, Boone. We managed to slip away upstairs during the annual Christmas party. It was fine.”

😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship?

“While my instinct is to say that it’s the one where I pretended to be in love for 5 years, my son is a product of that - so it’s far from my worst. I actually might not have an answer for this question. I don’t tend to engage in relationships that are mistakes for very long.” 

👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public?

“No.” Kind of - she’s rolled around in the hay once or twice. 

ASHER:

💦 At what age did my muse lose their virginity?

“18. I was a late bloomer. I met someone at a college party, and, at 18, had the audacity to think: ‘I’m not getting any younger.’ Afterwards, he asked me how it was. I shrugged.”

😳 What was my muse’s worst romantic/sexual relationship?

"I was in a relationship a few years ago where I thought... well. I was very scared of him leaving me for good. And when I say leaving me, I mean, he literally wanted to fly off into space. He wanted to be an astronaut. It’s a long story. Anyway, that fear made me do some things I’m not very proud of - which, of course, only ended up making things worse. I can safely say that my worst relationship was ‘the worst’ because of me. I wouldn’t wish that kind of fate on my worst enemy.” 

👮 Has my muse ever had sex in public?

“No.” Kind of - he’s a big fan of camping. 

[crimsongodss]

ziti alla genovese II oliver & amelia

‘Can I speak to the manager?’

She waits, fingers tapping. It’s a table set for two and she’s even managed to ask for the same one from seven years ago. Amelia is nothing, if not committed to the bit.

The Ziti alla Genovese sits in front of her, untouched. She doesn’t need to taste it to know that it’s prepared to perfection. But let’s be real, it’s never been about the fucking pasta - except, again, maybe that one accident, seven years ago. No, today is about her son. Amelia’s missed Matty, so much. Like a gaping-sore, a bullet-wound she has no time for trite metaphors. It’s like her left lung has been missing. Three days back in the states and Amelia cannot ignore it back any longer.

So much, she wanders straight back into the lion’s den and it’s a wonder she isn’t shot on sight, all things considered. And, truth be told, she might have not been so kind if the roles were reversed. The woman looks up when she finally hears approaching footsteps, her face the same neutral it always is at the sight of one Oliver Faust. 

She’s mostly unarmed in here, of course. It would have been bad news if she’d overtly carried anything on her and then been caught, but Amelia is of the opinion that just about anything is a weapon if you try hard enough. She holds a butter knife and gestures to the pasta, then to the empty seat; her eyes never leave his face.

“There he is. Like I said, it’s all wrong. You call this Ziti alla Genovese? Hell, you call this pasta?”

[crimsongodss]

[crimsongodss]

Stop reading my diary!

Stop reading mine! 

[crimsongodss]

open to: all, Dinner Cruise @ Navy Pier 

Amelia has thoughts and feelings about this plan, but she keeps them to herself. All she can do in the face of all of this is to adapt. It begins as a squabble at the table next to her and she realizes that all of this setting in far faster than she’d anticipated. Liam’s warned her, so she pushes away from her untouched meal. 

10 minutes later, she’s in the bridge, out of bullets, with only a few spatters of blood on her skirt. The Captain, rest his dying soul, is just that - dying. He gets dragged and kicked into a closet. Maybe the real sign of Amelia’s privilege is that she actually knows how to steer one of these things. Rich kid, summer camp, you know?

What is she doing here? She thinks to herself as she steps up to the helm of the bridge. Stuck on the water, far from her family. Amelia’s always been though a strategist and so a plan forms quickly. There’s a cop and a Vasile down there - it could be one hell of a ransom scenario if she made it one.  Barricade the door first - she tells herself.

Before she can, she hears it swing open as someone shoulders through. Amelia turns on them, back against the console. She scans their eyes, painfully aware she’s out of bullets. There’s no fear though. She’s resourceful. There’s plenty here she can use.

“Hello.” She says calmly. “Are you here to help or are you here to make this harder for me?”

[crimsongodss]

open to: all 

Strange to think that neutral territory still exists in this town, but here she is, in territory that is decidedly grey. North Coast Financing has dragged her out here for celebratory drinks for one of their clients and, as the evening is finally winding down, Amelia slips through the crowd of colleagues and other bar patrons and makes for one of the balconies that circle the exterior of the bar.

The Chicago night is cold but she doesn't mind. She's built for it. She's alone out here, and it takes her a second to notice that there’s a forgotten pack of cigarettes on the table. Amelia eyes them before deciding 'fuck it.' 

Click click goes her lighter and the cherry end of the cigarette bobs bright in the dark.

She's got her phone out and is scrolling through it, mind already on O'Shea matters, when she hears the doors snick open as someone else steps out into the night air to join her.

“Balcony’s occupied,” Amelia says coolly without with glancing up from her phone. “Find somewhere else to be.”