#omhq.starter

starter - open

maisie hated funerals - although, didn't everyone ?? she wasn't even sure if she belonged here, she was an acquaintance of devon's at best. but still, maisie knew she needed to go and say her final goodbye. it didn't help that she was stuck in the same itchy black dress her mother had picked out for her abuelita's funeral - the one she'd sworn she'd never wear again. funerals were usually a sad occasion, but this felt...heavier. maisie couldn't get her head around any of it.

open to everyone (cap at 5) @onlymurdersstart

It felt like it did not matter how many times she wiped the tears that streamed down her cheeks they just kept coming back. She had lost the only person she felt as though she had truly loved. They had their differences, sure they fought at times too like any other couple but she had planned her life out and every plan included him. "It was you wasn't it?" She yelled walking over to the closest person, her accusation having no basis other than her emotions. "You fuckin' killed him."

like most days, alex wasn't exactly fully there whilst she sat - or more accurately, slumped - behind the front desk of the job she had once said would be a couple-month gig to get some money to pay off her debts and get her life on track. that was... what? five years ago now? six? time flies when you're having fun. she wasn't complaining though, it was an easy job, not exactly well paid, but it kept the shitty roof above her head and almost covered the bills. and, most importantly, nobody gave the slightest shit if she was hungover, high, coming down, late, early, blah blah blah.

the ding of the bell above the door as it swung open brought her semi out of her daydreaming, which was more like just staring into the void and thinking about as little as humanly possible. "welcome to putt stop where every hole is a hole-in-fun," she said dryly without looking away from the spot in the wall that had captivated her last 45 minutes. "what can i do ya for?" she asked, finally glancing to her new company.

it didn't feel real, given her last memory of devon, he looked so...full of life, he was looking forward to record the latest episode of his podcast, cerys laughing and rolling her eyes about how giddy he was before they both disappeared in their own apartments. the doctor didn't really understand his fascination with true crime, she had encountered some weird cases in the few years of her career, yet most of them she wishes to forget.

she sat down in one of the booths at the place as she decompresses from a long shift at the clinic, it seems like even though she had put herself to work, she can't shake the news off of what happened to him. she had been staring down at her coffee, which was almost getting cold when somebody clears their throat, which makes her look around and notice how crowded it's been, before she turns to look at the person standing by her booth. "sorry, yeah, you can sit, i can share..." she gestures at the spot opposite her that was empty. "long night, or early morning?" she can't help but ask.

it took a lot in antoinette to even just get up from up her bed, get dressed and be present in devon's funeral. she knew he would want her here, and that she would regret it for the rest of her life if she didn't take the chance to say goodbye. the mask she had been putting on for days ever since he died slipped and she cannot hold her grief to herself and hide it. she had been too shaken up to even just stay in the room. she had found herself heading out for air a couple of times. she had been used to losing people, but the way she had lost somebody she had referred to as her brother...the pain was excruciating.

after the service, she had almost sprinted out of there just to let the tears fall, she didn't want to break down for people to see. the dancer actually prefers to deal with her feelings in her own. the quietness of the spot she's found was just enough to hear somebody walking up to her, hearing the dead leaves crunch beneath their feet. "sorry...i...it's just gettiing fuckin' hard to be there." she says, letting out a shaky breath. "i just can't fuckin' believe all this."

It was probably odd, the fact that Genevieve was practicing a new style on her mannequin head at the beach, but lately nothing she seemed to do made sense. The beach was calming, peaceful and quiet. The complete opposite of the salon she used to love walking into everyday. And she still did, but everything was much more bleak than usual nowadays. With her best friends funeral coming up, she was doing everything she could to distract herself. Even if it meant practicing cutting hair on a portable desk at the beach. "Shit" She had cut the bangs just a little too high. Feeling the presence of someone else behind her she let out a defeated sigh. "Please tell me it isn't as bad as it looks."

open starter @onlymurdersstart

With the new year already here it was about time for Mickey to get back to work she was in the back of the club doing inventory to make sure everything is in order once she sees that and starts writing it all down then heads out to the front of the club looks around with a smile on her face and walks up to her office and sits down in the chair. "It's good to see that things are in order for this week." Mickey said to herself.

the funeral had started to lose shape somewhere around the second hour. it seemed that people weren't really mourning anymore - they were circling each other. whispering in corners. trading theories in lowered voices they probably thought nobody else could hear. grief always did that eventually. turned people ugly. paranoid. desperate for something to blame.