There’s a bloodied knife between Fletcher’s teeth, held firmly between clenched ivories whilst he rolls up his shirt sleeves, folds them up his arm until they tighten on his bicep. It’s redundant, crimson already dotting the fabric and the stains that would likely be there for days adorn the bonebreaker’s hands. But it keeps his fingers from twitching to break something. The air is surprisingly light, without the heaviness of a usual blacksite interrogation; the droplets of the other man’s blood tinging a metallic taste on Hargrave’s tongue, forgotten quickly when he retrieves the blade again, twirls in comfortably in one hand, throws glances at Richie with a darkening gaze as if waiting for approval; an order to break skin again; to watch red decorate the floor under them and tug chunks of paling flesh from bone like an untrained butcher.
It’s accurate; Fletch is an untrained butcher, but there’s exercise in something else.
And does anyone truly need to be taught how to slice meat; a pattern that some might find works haphazardly, others follow a method. He’s accustomed to it; relishes in the screaming – knows it’s not how most men find their pleasures. And he’s convinced that’s why the boss chose him. Why he’s the first choice to the O’Shea boss and nobody else is there with them; finds no general present.
Nobody there with rationality to know when to stop.
Because where’s the fun in that? At the gesture towards him, the knife Fletcher’s spinning in between fingers stops; a practiced motion, one that’s a comfort to what’s to come. It suddenly ceases to reflect fast moving low lights off the dull metal and he smirks when he instead directs beams into the man’s eyes as though from the current distance, he could still get a kick out of the other’s agony. They’ve barely begun and Fletcher standing patiently at the side lines; watching with this laughter hidden behind his eyes; it’s been a little while since they got to get hands a little dirty on their terms.
Oh, how Fletcher’s missed it. The way that the only sound reverberating around the expanse is cries for help; for mercy as though it’d be given out of the good of their hearts. As if Fletcher hasn’t already planned sixty ways the man can lose limbs and still give out that satisfying cry for help. “Why don’t you scream a little louder, don’t think the top floor heard you,” he jibes, rakes eyes down the open wounds; calculates the nerves that remain un-severed and he makes an accompanying statement to Richies, it’s given with a twisted grin: “You’ve got three seconds to speak actual words – and trust me, you don’t need your eyes to provide answers,” take it from previous experiences. “If you gotta fucking scream, say something useful,”
Or don’t. I don’t mind plucking those organs from your face either.
TW: TORTURE, INJURY
Richie has never been a patient man, his mind ablaze at the different ways this could go wrong, but the ever present voice of Mason urging him to get the answers, to fucking keep his family safe, drowns all of that out. Chicago bleeds through the blood of many but the O’Shea’s shouldn’t spill any more of their own. It’s embarrassing is what it is, finding themselves a little worse for wear each time like Richie didn’t have a fucking contingency plan, like he couldn’t have made sure they were more prepared. It’s insulting and if his father were to be alive right now, not only would Richie probably already have the same knife lodged right there against his temple, but he’s pretty sure that all the questions he’s been asking himself since the kidnapping would have been answered or at least would have been dealt with a lot faster than this. There’s some type of cosmic karma that’s keeping the balance — Richie never wanted to be here and now he can never leave.
The man cries; the tears fall and somehow, it only angers him more. Useless. People are so fucking useless.
His bone breaker’s taunts actually pull a smile out of him, something small that’s evidence of the pleasure he finds in this. Head tilting, knees bent so they’re at eye level, Richie can see the fear there. There’s no resignation yet and isn’t that a shame? This man actually thinks there’s a chance of him getting out of here alive. Tough fucking luck. Fletcher comes because Richie knows how this will end; the journey going there is what makes it all the more riveting — something that excites him more than it should.
There’s an urge to take the blade and get this over with; steel against skin, slicing its way through the man’s neck all pretty. The blood will splatter and Richie will be able to reach in whatever hole he’s made and yank out whatever he finds — tissue or cartilage, mainly, he’s sure, but there’s really only one way to find out. Will it be answers to Aurora’s disappearance or just another disappointment much like the actions of his sister in the first place? Still, Richie has always been a family man, so he’s doing it for her — or that’s what he keeps telling himself.
There’s no answer or at least not on that Richie can get something out of and the irritation that flares causes him to to press in deeper, knife finally penetrating through the cheek and visible from the inside of his mouth. It’s a wonder that the young O’Shea didn’t do it sooner. The cries come out louder now and it’s a flinch, he’ll say to anyone that asks; blade piercing outwards, creating a much bigger hole on his face. Good. Maybe then he can get some more words out of him. “I’m not trying to be the bad guy here,” a long suffering sigh leaves him like this is so tiring. “I just want to know how my sister got there.”
Richie is tired of this; he shouldn’t even be here. He doesn’t remember a time when Amelia or, hell, even Liam was this hands on — maybe except that stint with Dimitri and oh what an idea. Borrowing from his siblings? It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. The thing about Richie, though, is that he’ll find the beauty in this; call it artistic muse or some shit, but he’s suddenly very, very curious to see the concrete floor painted crimson. His shirt wipes off whatever blood that comes from his guest and dry cleaning is going to be a bitch and a half. A hand reaches out to grasp the man by the curls on his head, yanking him back so his eyes are trained towards the ceiling. “He’s right, you know,” the words come out hushed, like Richie is suddenly exhausted. “You really don’t need your eyes.”
Looking back, he gestures at Hargrave to take his turn — a tandem he never saw coming even through those days in Skyfall. “You actually don’t need a lot of things.” He lets go of of his hold, steps away, but not before driving that same knife down the man’s hand, finding glee at feeling it hit against bone. “Take care of that for me, would you?”
kian’s hands wrapped around the case of beer, a smile crossing his face. “ and they’re even cold. ’ he opened it up, pulling a few out and sliding one across the counter to richie.
kian wasn’t sure they would ever get here. he wouldn’t have ever given up on richie, but — he definitely didn’t expect richie to be the one to make a step towards fixing things.
“ i’m up for either, what are you in the mood for? ’ kian put the rest of the case in the fridge before popping open his beer and chugging from it.
“Fuck you. You’re lucky I even got them in the first place,” he throws back though the comment is made in jest. There’s no hesitation as he grabs his bottle, slamming it against the edge of the table to pop the cap off, before taking a drink.
There’s this voice at the back of his head that’s telling Richie to get his ass back in the office but the fact that he doesn’t even remember when he’s spent this much time with Kian -- the whole five minutes he’s been here -- where he’s not barking orders is a little unsettling.
“I don’t care at this point.” Traslation: You pick because I’ll make an excuse out of everything I throw at you. “Just want to get drunk to be honest.”
It’s only fair that the employees who are pretty much aware of what his family does are those that stay in North Coast. Everyone else needs to be moved to Edgewater. It would be smart since the whole reason for transition is that their secrets would be kept hidden so obviously, they don’t need as much staff in North Coast.
They certainly don’t need a receptionist, but his plan for transition, his rules. Everyone else can suck it.
Richie invites Poppy to his office to discuss her future employment. Truthfully, his offer at a job was to make up for his mistake, but after being on the receiving end of her kindness -- or at least that’s what he hopes those random texts are for -- he’s grown to relax somewhat despite the awkwardness between them. Who says exes can’t be friends?
Still, because of that, she’s lumped in with everyone else he has to keep safe and so there’s really no excuse for her to stay in North Coast other than Richie’s need to make sure that no one will get hurt again. Of course there’s also the added bonus that it has been known that she was once the most important person in his life at some point, and so he’s not sure if the target on her has blurred after their end.
“You’re not going to Edgewater,” he cuts right to the chase. Poppy knows how he is; there’s no need to dance around the topic. “I need you here for....reasons.” Smooth, O’Shea. “If you could live here, that’ll make it even easier.”
There’s a need to get answers and Richie knows he has to go on about it as smart as he could. The justification in dragging one of the employees from the cruise onto an abandoned warehouse could be found in the search for revenge at Aurora’s captors. Should Richie have gone about it another way? Possibly, but really there’s no turning back now. In his hunt for a possible witness at what went down at the lake, the young O’Shea decides to take Fletcher with him. He won’t question as to why; he won’t judge the rational thinking behind it. There’s also the fact that if Richie goes too far, his bonebreaker would go even further and that -- that’s what teamwork is about.
Gagged and tied to a metal chair, the man only cries and Richie’s starting to lose patience. “You can scream all you want. No one’s coming for you,” his voice carries through the thickness of the silence, the only sound coming from the man that should hold all the information he needs. He was there; he should know who the fuck put those bodies up like a recreation from a Saw scene. “You see my friend over there? Guy that looks like he can kill you without hesitation,” and with this he gestures towards Hargrave. “Yeah I say the word and he’ll gut you right here, right now, so do us both a favor and let us keep you alive, okay?” Approaching the man, he lets the tip his knife trail down the side of his face, pressing in slightly to draw a little blood.
Ophelia was proud of herself, not that she would ever admit it to people, especially not the ones she was trying to prove something too but she had gone from being locked up every other week for drunken disorderly behavior to being a shoulder her brother could lean on. To being the one that came up with things to make his life easier not harder, and jobs he gave her were done without blinking. “If he proves to be no good then at least we can take care of him whilst we’re here, just because Dad died he thinks he can go MIA on us? Last I checked that’s desertion. We can remind him either way of those standards dad held.” It was about time someone reminded the whole damn city and leave it to Ophelia to be as dramatic as ever.
“That’s right…Sammy still on his killing spree?” Her question paired with a raised brow. There was a lot of things that Aurora shouldn’t have done. “It would have been easier if she was dead.” Her voice was void of any emotions, and she wondered if that would be so easy had it been any other sibling that had been strapped in the basement of the hotel. If it had been Richie? Liam? Or was it just because she had convinced herself that aurora had been a liability since she had wondered back into their lives as if she had never gone. Would Richie think it was easier if it had been Ophelia herself that had been taken.
At the ping of the elevator Ophelia waited for the doors to part before she was out, making her way down the hall as she followed the door numbers to the one they were looking for. Coming to a stop at the door way she turned to her brother, a pause in her move. “If he can’t help, and we can’t fix her, I’ll hold her head still whilst you shoot.” Rising a fist to knock, the gesture loud and purposeful, Ophelia looked away from her brother. “Mr Jones….you have some visitors.” The O’Shea chimed through the door, her voice as sickly sweet as she could muster.
--
“That’s how he copes.” Truthfully at this rate, Richie’s only grateful that Sammy hasn’t dove off the deep end. With Amelia gone, and now Chris apparently, he can only do so much to ensure that his brother doesn’t do anything too rash. Thankfully he’s still as sane as he could be, only going for those that ‘deserve it.’ Richie knows that he doesn’t need to be too worried, Sammy’s skill leaving nothing to be traced back to the family. If body parts in coolers is what’s going to keep him from doing anything more than that, Richie is willing to turn a blind eye. Besides, it’s a win-win situation. At this rate, the business has gone up, the clan’s morale a little more stable, and there’s the unsaid message that you cannot leave the O’Sheas alive. Is this what Mason felt -- pride at the notion of it all?
There’s a scoff, a raised eyebrow before he leans back against the walls of the elevator. It no longer surprises him that the balance of the sibling dynamic is a little worse for wear right now, the impact of Amelia defecting in the first place throwing everyone for a loop. Of course his priority is still to the family, but it extends far more than his brothers and sisters. Seeing as how Ophelia can properly understand now what he’s been trying to work on in the first place , well , he knows he wouldn’t have a problem with her. “It would have been easier if all of you were dead,” he throws back in jest. “But you’re alright I guess.”
Richie doesn’t play favorites but he knows if it had been Ophelia taken, he wouldn’t have been as calm with the search parties as he was even with the incoming baby.
“You act like Aurora would take it far too easily. Remember, she’s our sister. Everyone’s pretty fucked in the head.” Should it be concerning that the topic at hand falls easily? Probably. Does he particularly care at this point? No.
Richie can hear the shuffling behind the door before it opens, face unimpressed with the man before him. “Mr. Jones, my name is Richard O’Shea,” he cuts right through the bullshit. There’s no time for pleasantries. “I hear you’ve worked for my father before.”
The voice is one that she knows and as he gets closer Zoe registers just who it is and is surprised to find a lack of anger building up within her. Every other visitor has made that rage come back but Richie doesn’t. Why that is she doesn’t know and she’s spent so much time lately trying to understand her feelings that she doesn’t want to question it. It will only make her more confused.
Her eyes move down to the straps on her wrists, legs crossed as she tries to be somewhat comfortable in the bed. Zoe is ready to go home, to be anywhere else but she understands that won’t be happening until she can get some things under control. Like her want to strangle her family members.
“Sorry, I was a little bit busy having my shoulders popped out of their sockets over and over to make it.” Her voice dry, it’s not a joke but it’s also not a comment Richie deserves. The hospital gown at least covers her burns, scars that will never go away. “I’m pretty sure they won’t let me out until they’re sure I’m not a danger to myself or others. Could be a while.”
--
TW: PSYCHIATRIC WARD, TORTURE
Richie can’t help the wince that follow her words; he should have expected that. It’s the way that she says it so casually that spurns the feeling of rage at whoever caused all of this. Is that what they did to Aurora? Did torture break them? Seeing Zoe constrained to a bed in a psychiatric hospital of all places, he knows the answer; he just doesn’t want to admit it.
I’ll take care of this, he wants to promise, but the fact that he doesn’t know how keeps the anger festering. I’ll take care of you.
“They treating you right?” The psychiatrist at his disposal is doing the best he can with Aurora and the progress is still slow going. Should he have admitted her here? A look around the room and imagining his sister here alone solidifies his decision in keeping her the family’s problem.
“Zoe --,” he wants to ask what happened, wants to know how he could help. “You look cold,” is what he settles on.
It was almost as if she could feel her brothers fingers twitching, that she could feel the cogs in his head turning. He really was more like Mason than any of them had ever thought he would be capable off, but maybe that was why she got along with him so well. She had hung from her fathers every word, and when he had died she had always assumed that adoration would switch to Liam, hell even Sammy, but naturally it had found its way to her best friend. Ophelia would do whatever it took to make his life easier, especially if it kept her out of the hotel and away from her own general who seemed to clash with her at any given chance - they still had to work on that whole family business balance thing but they’d get there.
Right now, she just had bigger things to worry about, like how to stop Richie from killing their sister. Not because she didn’t think that the older O’Shea deserved it, but because there was a very good chance their sister knew things, that she had information they might need and even if wouldn’t lead them to much, they needed all the help they could get. If they were lucky enough to get their sister back then great, they’d lost enough family, but if they were left with nothing but a shell and information they needed? Well shit, they’d make do with that too. “He had one, but what in the hell made you think he listened to them?” She responded with a raised brow as she looked up at him before she nodded, making her way into the apartment lobby and through to the elevators, like hell was she walking to the 12th floor.
“Now please do remember, we want him to help us, and talking is going to be a far easier method…we’ll hurt him if we need to okay?” If the man had any sense the second they mentioned their last name he would follow them. “Let’s not leave a blood trail for people to find if we don’t have to.”
--
In all honesty, had it not been for Ophelia, Richie might have already taken the easiest route in dealing with the problem his sister seemed to drag on for the family. It’s a little unnerving, how quick it is for the man to turn towards a more Mason solution than he’s used to but if it’s what keeps his family safe and to keep from any of their secrets from spilling, then he should be justified. Richie loves his siblings, he does, but he’s given up too much, given up more of himself than he intended, to let any of their mistakes fall on his shoulders. It’s not just about them anymore. There’s a system, he’s learned, and consequences fall on a trickle down effect and the guilt from where it all touches is enough to keep Richie from caring too much about personal feelings from his decision.
A roll of his eyes and a pat down to ensure that he’s still prepared for anything has Richie waiting alongside Ophelia. Thankfully she still makes sense, helping him when it feels like he’s been trudging through this alone. It isn’t fair to blame anyone but himself, really, but there are times when he wishes that Amelia would have chosen someone else, that Liam didn’t see that there’s something there in him that can actually do this when all Richie could think about is just how he’s going to mess up for the day and all the ways to avoid it.
“Mason had standards. Let’s see if it was all worth it,,” is all he says, pressing the button to the appropriate floor and waiting for them to ascend. “You underestimate me, O. I’m the one that makes sure this family doesn’t get caught with shit.” There’s a pause before --, “She shouldn’t have gone to work.” Richie let the frustration show through his tone. “She shouldn’t have gone to work then she wouldn’t have been taken and fuck --. I thought she was dead.”
josie was skeptical of richie at first given how she heard the o’shea last name thrown around the police station when they were doing investigations. but after some convincing and some hanging out with one another, josie was convinced that richie was different than the rest of the gang members; after all he was just a low ranking painter, right? now that she felt comfortable enough to go back outside, she figured the first person she would see would be richie. she nodded slightly still trying to shake the paranoia that lingered in the back of her mind as she entered the suite. “i’m not really picky on what we watch but i’d rather not watch something scary if that helps you decide.” she said as she looked around the suite with her hands in her pockets.
--
There’s pity there somewhere but Richie already knows that showcasing it would result in certain consequences he doesn’t even want to deal with right now. The questions sit at the tip of his tongue. What did they do to you? What did they do to Aurora? How do I get them? How can I get her back? He stays silent; the waiting game has always been proven to be a little beneficial on his end. O’Shea is careful in keeping his distance, making his way over to the couch where he has his laptop plugged onto the TV. “My taste in movies are questionable,” he hums, picking it up and scrolling through the Netflix site he’s already on. “But nothing scary. I can work with that.” Richie notes the way her eyes scan the room and if it weren’t for the fact they’ve actually developed some sort of friendship, he would chalk it off to a Leon being untrusting of an O’Shea. He can’t blame her, though, but he still pulls on that artist facade to ensure that he stays on her good side. “Want a Disney movie? I haven’t seen Frozen II yet.” There’s a hint of a smile playing on his features. It feels odd, trying to fake his way in looking like a good guy when nothing else feels as natural than when he does so.
Lugging the large cooler down to Richie’s office, Sammy actually started to feel it. Tired. He was tired. Past tired. Exhausted. Since the cruise, he’d been going non-stop. Sick of losing to people who clearly had much smaller dicks than the O’Shea’s did. Sick of losing in his personal life. He couldn’t take it. He needed to start making sure this fuckin’ city stopped trying to kill them. The O’Shea’s had been around longer than any of the other families and they’d be around long after the other gangs died off. If he had to put a bullet in everyone else’s brain to get that message across, so be it.
Pushing the office door in with his shoulder, Sammy dropped the cooler down on Richie’s desk and lay down on the floor along side his brothers chair. Left in his hand was only a bottle of god knows what. Alcohol for sure but they were out of the good stuff. Although he’d showered, a few bits of blood still remained in his hair and on his hands. “Love isn’t real, Richie. It’s all fake.” Sammy stated before taking a drink from the bottle and holding it out to his little brother. “Disney lied. Those fucks.”
Days for Richie have been a whirlwind: trying to make sure friendships alliances are still solidified -- would keeping his friends even work in his favor in the end--, trying to figure out how to get Aurora to come back from whatever hell they put her through, and trying to figure out who they are in the first place. It’s a losing battle between exhaustion and wanting to get everything done but the latter always wins out, finding the young O’Shea in his office more and more. It’s the little moments with Aria that keep him sane, those small pockets of time that make him feel human rather than the drone he’s mocked Mason, Amelia, and even Liam to be.
Still, work is work is work and even with Amelia disappearing into thin air yet again, Richie has to maintain the momentum he still has in keeping his family safe. It’s laughable at best really considering how it seems like each month they get a blow but his sister can’t deny the fact that he’s doing better than anyone ever thought he would. Is it enough? Not even close but it keeps the guilt from surfacing so it’s adequate at best.
Richie didn’t realize that the transition to the new hotel for their guests would come with so much logistical baggage, but if that’s what keeps prying eyes from spilling secrets, then so be it. So lost in the paper work he’s not even aware of Sammy barging in until there’s a thud on his desk. Pausing, he turns towards his brother, hand already grabbing the bottle offered.
“Of course it isn’t real,” his voice is laced with bitterness he had hoped wouldn’t seep through. “But why do you need that when you have --,” and with this Richie shakes the drink in front of Sammy’s face. “You celebrating or moping?”
closed starter for @richieoshea // location: edgewater
it’s been nearly three weeks since josie left her apartment, only having a few visitors she finally decided she would submit herself to the outside world again. she managed to get her anger under control and was left with overwhelming anxiety and paranoia. the entire way to the hotel she was constantly checking over her shoulder, keeping her hand tightly wrapped around her canister of pepper spray. once she got to the lobby of the hotel she took a deep breath feeling that she could finally relax. the amount of people on the sidewalks and business of the city was all too overwhelming since she hadn’t been exposed to outside world in well over a month. shaky hands reached for her phone to check the room number richie sent to her and she made her way into the elevator getting off on the right floor and heading to the room at the end of the hallway. she knocked softly looking around to make sure that there was no one else around her.
The transition to another hotel has been stressful to say the least with Richie overlooking the change. “Renovations” would put North Coast on an indefinite closure and so Edgewater would be the perfect place for where their guests could be transferred. It maintains the business and still give the O’Sheas the space they need without having anymore side-eyes and complaints of blood on the floor.
Times after the boat incident has Richie running around, trying to keep those of which he still has a grasp on under his control. He hates the not knowing part and while he’s tried to make sense of what’s happened, he still doesn’t have a clue. This includes checking up on his friends -- allies, his mind supplies.
Despite her last name Josie hasn’t been as much trouble as his father would have probably warned him. It might have something to do with the fact that even she doesn’t know of his role within the family and if that’s what’s keeping him from jail or from a bullet in the head, he doesn’t mind hiding it. Richie texts her to come over, show some of that O’Shea hospitality, and tries to not think about how worried he actually is.
There’s a knock on his suite -- still has to keep up pretenses -- and he opens the door with a flourish. There stands an old friend with the same vacant look he’s seen on his sister and Zoe. “Hey,” his voice his soft as he gestures towards the room. “I’ve set up the TV but I was waiting for you to pick the movie.”
luckily kian’s friendship with richie was one thing that was seeming to get back on the right tracks. for the last three months kian’s been watching his best friend spiral — trying and quite frankly failing to help him. pushing him to the extent where kian wasn’t sure he could return from. call it luck, or richie finally coming to his senses. whatever it was, kian was grateful for it.
it had been hell — for richie more then anyone else. kian was merely lucky to have a few distractions keeping his attention away from the hell that was being set loose on their lives. kian could hear the knocking on the door from the kitchen where he stood. “ it’s open! ’ he called out from around the cabinets.
There’s a lot that’s happened and now Richie’s tried to rectify some of the mistakes he’s made. Of course he’d never admit to anyone that it was his fault or actually apologize, but the push back to normalcy is a subtle yet effective one. Kian makes the list and while under normal circumstances, he would just let bygones be bygones, Richie knows there was a shift in their dynamic somewhere. Almost losing another family member changes his mind about that.
There’s a more hands on approach from his end, trying to keep everyone in his sights. This requires Richie actually making the effort and while it is exhausting, he doesn’t mind it one bit.
The door to Kian’s apartment is a familiar sight and he enters after knocking. Finding the man in question, he hands over the case of beer he’s brought. “We staying in or going to Skyfall?”
Zoe and Richie ship meme in a hypothetical world. :D
who reaches out to new neighbors: ZOE WITH RICHIE RIGHT BEHIND HER GRUMBLING
who remembers to buy healthy food: ZOE
who remembers to buy junk food: RICHIE BUT IN HIS DEFENSE, HE THOUGHT THEY WERE HEALTHY
who fixes the oven when it breaks: BEN
who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s): ZOE
who wakes up earlier: ZOE
who makes the bed: ZOE WAKES RICHIE UP TO HELP HER DO IT
who makes the coffee: RICHIE
who burns breakfast: RICHIE BUT HE STILL TRIES AGAIN
how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house: RICHIE LEAVES THEN COMES BACK TO GIVE HER A KISS GOODBYE KISS AND/OR GET HIS KEYS THAT HE LEFT BEHIND
how do they greet each other when one of them gets home: RICHIE WAITS BY THE FRONT DOOR FOR A KISS AND POUTS LIKE HELL WHEN HE DOESN’T GET ONE
who brings home little gifts like flowers/chocolates more often: RICHIE ESPECIALLY WHEN BEN STARTS GIVING HIM THE STINK EYE
who picks the movie for movie night: THEY SWITCH OFF
their favorite kind of movie to watch: ROMANTIC COMEDIES BUT RICHIE WILL DENY IT UNTIL HE DIES
who first suggests a pillow fort: ZOE WITH THE SCHEMATICS
who builds the pillow fort: RICHIE
who tries to distract the other during the move: RICHIE AND IT NEVER WORKS BEC THIS GIRL IS DEAD SET ON HER ‘AMAZING’ MOVIE TASTE
who falls asleep first: RICHIE
who is big spoon/little spoon: YOU SEE HOW TINY ZOE IS? NO CUDDLES JUST, PLOPPED RIGHT ON TOP OF RICHIE LIKE A CAT
the timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon: the one where richie chose poppy
he wouldn’t have a bullet wound on his thigh for one. he might still have the captain position. amelia could have used poppy as leverage against him and he’d give up everything for her as well just to keep her safe. he would’ve told poppy about aria right away because he knows her; he knows that it would have been a deal breaker if he kept it from her for too long. she would still be living with her parents until she graduates so richie would have made sure they were secure as well. since she’s a civ and not a “defect,” he would have been able to take her out, visit her in school, and just court the ever living fuck out of her. he would have waited until she graduated to ask her parents permission to marry their daughter. he’d take care of her essentially. he’d be extremely protective since she doesn’t really know the gang life so she wouldn’t know what to expect. might even assign fletcher to be her body guard. do the whole ‘if anyone touches her, i will not hesitate to put a bullet between their eyes and yours’. but you know, sweeter. she would have been able to bring “richie” back and help him find that balance. she would be that one piece of himself that she carries and slowly, he’ll find himself again through her.
the timeline in which they knew beforehand of something they would have prevented if given the chance: the one where richie never went to that christmas tree lot
had richie known blue daniels would break his heart, he wouldn’t have given him the chance to. richie would probably still be with poppy. probably waiting for her to graduate so he could pop the question. he would’ve loved her in the end regardless. he might not have aria. it’s doubtful that he would’ve cheated on poppy since the reason he did so was the timing of it all. he wouldn’t have gotten the captain position, though. richie gave up everything to keep blue alive and made sure that he took his job seriously. he’d probably have been demoted back down to bonebreaker. he’d still be painting. he’d still have his job at the museum. if he had the balls, he would’ve run away from his responsibilities again. amelia leaving wouldn’t have hurt as much.
kianamaiart
snowghoul
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