𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒉 𝒅𝒂𝒚

[8_Stars_8]

res

[HauntedMansion]

Aunt Delilah (Della) Graham
—— FACTS
birth name &&. ❛ Delilah Graham ❜
nickname(s) &&. ❛ Auntie, Aunt Della ❜
birth date &&. ❛ July 30 ❜
age (as of today) &&. ❛ 43 ❜
gender &&. ❛ female (she/her) ❜
sexuality &&. ❛ biromantic/sexual ❜
appearance &&. ❛ 5’5 with a toned build, bright green eyes, rose vine tattoos across her back ❜
personality &&. ❛ cynical, blunt, stubborn, charismatic, snarky, laid back, slightly paranoid ❜
marital status &&. ❛ unmarried, single ❜
likes &&. ❛ conspiracy theories, playing cards, napping, building/reinforcing, spicy sweet tea, summer weather ❜
dislikes &&. ❛ humorless people, being told she can’t do something ❜
family role &&. ❛ Aunt to the Graham family. Handy woman, builder ❜


(Fc: Cobie Smulders)

—— EXTRA
- Has worked a handful of jobs in the past- plumber, comedian, car salesman, etc. worked with a circus before the blackout.
- Has taught most of the kids any card game they requested, will not go easy on them and will gloat in every victory.
- Convinced that if they could just get rid of whatever is in the forest, they wouldn’t all be trapped. Willing to take up arms and get the job done herself. But only if she’s ever given permission, not wanting to risk the family.

[brunchman2000]

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓━━━━━━━━ 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 ━━━━ she/her - fourteen - link; ✶ ━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; mars • 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; near the chicken coop • 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜; mars

indentthe gravel crunched underfoot as violet strode along the path, a slight spring in her step and a smile plastered to her face. the sun was shining delicately on the world and birds sung their songs as they perched on the large oak trees that scattered the property. it was a day full of possibilities and violet was especially aware of that; she had a happiness harbored in her heart that seemingly had no source and it was almost making her giddy. perhaps it was the very beautiful morning that presented itself; it had been a gorgeous sunrise and she'd spent the morning watching it as she sipped on a cup of chamomile tea. maybe it was this very moment, breathing in the fresh morning air, the dew twinkling on the grass, her hair blowing ever so slightly in the breeze as it whispered its secrets to her. maybe it was everything she had ever known and loved compiled into one overwhelming feeling of happiness creating a symphony inside her heart. she didn't exactly know, but she did know that she was truly happy for the first time in a while.

indentshe continued on her walk, the end in sight. she was performing her first chore of the day; the chickens. the small coop was made of wood, crafted by her father by hand and lined with wire to protect from foxes. it was her pride and joy; each chicken had a name, a personality, and a special place in her heart. the coop was where she went when she was sad, angry, frustrated, happy, or anything else. it was her outlet, her favorite place to be. the chickens never had expectations beyond food and they were all so simple and uncomplicated. they were the only thing she could truly have control of. they wouldn't act out or argue. they were content as long as they were fed and that was something she could deliver every day.

indentas she neared, she realized that her sister, maribel, was standing near, waving up at the king house. violet walked over, her smile lessening slightly as the sun shone in her eyes. she held up a hand to block it as she stood beside her sister. "morning, mars," she said in a light tone. "who are you waving at?" there was a hint of amusement in her voice, but she was mostly making conversation. just as she loved all her family, she loved her sister, mars. violet loved how much her sister cared for others; her intentional and organized nature, the way she loved and protected others. she was someone violet had always looked up to and nothing would ever make her lose respect for her.

[mtuan,]

𝐇𝐀𝐍-𝐁𝐈𝐍 '𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐖' 𝐋𝐈𝐌 (𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆)
❝ 𝘊𝘈𝘗𝘛𝘐𝘝𝘈𝘛𝘌𝘋, 𝘐𝘍 𝘠𝘖𝘜 𝘞𝘈𝘕𝘛 𝘐𝘛, 𝘊𝘖𝘔𝘌 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘎𝘌𝘛 𝘐𝘛, 𝘕𝘖 𝘍𝘙𝘐𝘊𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕 𝘐'𝘔 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙𝘚 !! ❞
─────────────────────────────────────────────────

tag, evan |etc, i really don't know what i'm doing lmaooo, 1,090 words

Morning comes early and easy for Harlow, the young man already lying awake with the comforters of his bed pulled up to his shoulders, eyes trained emptily up towards the ceiling of his room when the first signs of the sun began to climb over the horizon. With the curtains of his one window just slightly ajar, he could see- or at least, feel, the slowly rising brightness as the world began to wake. It's only dawn, by the time the young 'King' had found himself wide awake, eyes blinking away the bleariness of sleep and hands rubbing away whatever traces persisted, even when he chose not to leave the warmth of his bed just yet. It's probably five or six o'clock, Harlow guesses. But his clock sits in the other corner of his room- the side that he currently has his back facing, and the young man's too lazy to really shuffle over to check. He'd probably be seem blind, if he tried to read the numbers and arrows on the wall, anyway, all "symbols" bleary to his eyes by fatigue. To a degree, even if he wasn't physically tired, Harlow felt exhausted.

The skies are beautiful at this time, glowing in hues of pretty pink and just the tinges of orange and gray- both of the fading night and growing day. If he could, the young man would've stayed up to watch the sun rise- or maybe taken a picture to save for his memories. The colors were gorgeous and if- if only he'd been brave enough to (.. not to mention the lack in supplies), maybe Harlow would have painted his room with the trickles of morning; save his future self from the bore of the slightly tinged white walls.

Instead, Harlow finds himself at least attempting to doze off again, tossing to the side inevitably in an attempt to make himself comfortable once more-- not that he wasn't physically comfortable already, though it felt as if he had an itch in his mind; or maybe a hunch that something was up later today. It's been a weird one, no one could blame him for the way his mind seemed to be hardwired for alert, nowadays.

Harlow ends up very nearly dozing off for a good half an hour, mind teetering between the conscious world and the dreamscape, but never truly reaching it's desired destination. Instead, his mind was hazy, but his senses wide awake- at the sound of anything knocking against another hard surface in the house had the young man jolting to full consciousness.

It takes only one particularly hard jostle for the King to rouse for the final time, an elbow eventually propping his form up, chestnut hair wild, as he heaves a breath. Shaking his hair out at the sight of nothing, Harlow merely huffs and flops back against the softness of his bedsheets for one, two- three more moments. Before he finally decides to sit up, back propped against his pillows now, and Harlow rubs his face gently under the soft morning glow.

He stays like that for maybe five minutes or so; and then he's off into the bathroom. It doesn't take the man long to freshen up for the day- really, there were only two families here and they were close, what was there to dazzle up for? It wasn't as if everyone hadn't seen him at his worst already (presumably, anyway) and Harlow wasn't an entirely fancy dude to begin with. A bit of a lie, but that's fine.

Harlow ends up in a fresh, plain black sweater and some gray sweats, simple, easy, yet just 'put together' enough to not be considered sloppy-- kinda, he hoped (because fashion and style seemed to blur these days when there was no one else to impress). Now with his 'fit thrown on and himself fresh for another day of-- maybe just wandering around nearby the house, the young man heads out on his way.

He passes by the badminton racket hanging on his wall and briefly freezes in his place at the sight. Missing badminton would've been an understatement; it was a sport Harlow once loved and cherished as part of his life. And yet, with the recent blackout and the orders to stay away from the woods, cut off from any contact but the weird (-joking) neighbors next door, life had dulled down into the mundane, badminton slowly being phased out for other necessary "hobbies". There's a sour pang, but of what emotion, it's hard to decipher these days.

No electricity, no gas, no one to reach out for, no one to rely on. The world sure did seem much duller than usual when the very same words continued to echo through the man's mind.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats after closing his door shut, Harlow doesn't necessarily know where his feet would take him today (-or, what to expect from the day ahead), but some chilly, fresh air may help clear his head.

But of course, when the man passes by the attic above, from the corner of his eye, Harlow couldn't help but notice the slightly ajar entrance and immediately- he's intrigued. His steps are careful as the Korean man makes his way up and into the attic of their home, head peeking in once he'd pushed the latch (?) all the way open; Harlow makes a face when he notices the dust, clear as day, clinging onto the sleeve of his black sweater.

Upon heaving himself up into the small space, a couple brushes of his fingers against the dirtied sleeve in a feeble attempt to brush off the collecting dust in a room full of said particle, he takes a couple steps until a familiar figure comes into view. A boy in his late teens, sitting slightly crouched, a book and some writing tools in hand. Writing in here? It's quite dim and bad for the eyes, isn't it? But Harlow knows exactly who it was; who would be hiding away in the attic (of all places) to fade away from the family and trouble.

"Ah, so it is you up here, Evan. What do you have up your sleeve this time? Anything interesting here, away from the rest of the family?" Though the young man stops by the feet of Evan, he doesn't even begin to try and sit down, pretty, sharp eyes already eying the dust collecting across the attic floors. "Quiet- dusty though. Some fresh air would do better, dont'cha think?"

[brunchman2000]

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓━━━━━━━━ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐦 ━━━ she/her - seventeen - link; ✶ ━━━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; charlotte • 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; by the king family house • 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜; charlotte

indentthe hallway was still, the dust flowing though the sunlit air. there was not a sound except for the distant crickets and birds that chirped outside. it was the picture of peace; an old wooden floor, cream coloured walls, a light trickle of a breeze that flowed through an open window, gently moving the curtains in a slow dance. suddenly the scene dissolved as a door slammed open, followed by the clomp clomp clomp! of two heavy black boots on the floor. the wooden boards gave a few creaks of protest, but the boots stomped along with no sympathy for what was underfoot. the boots belonged to a girl with untidy blonde hair, who was equally as chaotic. although she did not speak, her gaze held something that was louder than any words. she had a slight smirk and her eyeliner rimmed eyes sparked with mischief as she continued on her way. she had no care in the world and was possibly trying to be the loudest she could, short of banging pots and pans into the silent house. this was heather, whose energy crackled around her like a thunderstorm.

indentthis was the usual way she made her entrance into a new day; a fierce attitude and her combat boots. at first, this had earned her many fights with her parents, but over time, her family had learned to accept it (and sleep through it, most of the time).
indentreaching the stairs, an idea flew into her mind, showing itself with a devilish grin on her lips. what fun would walking down the stairs be when she could get there much faster? leaping onto the railing, she wasted no time in executing her plan. heather slid down the railing of the old staircase, a childish smile lighting her face. she let out a sudden gasp as the thin railing shook slightly under her weight and before she knew it there was a crack and she reached the bottom and flung off with the momentum, landing with a thud on the kitchen floor. she couldn't help but laugh as she sat up, rubbing her head where she'd hit it against the floor. she quickly realized, too, what the crack had been; one of the spindles in the railing had come dislodged and lay in two pieces not too far from her. there was a slight cloud of impending doom that settled over heather for a moment, as she could already hear her mother's voice yelling and cursing her for being so reckless. but heather realized quickly that she didn't care. if she hadn't broken the spindle, it would have been something else, anyways. being in trouble was a constant state of being for her.

indentheaving herself off the floor with a wince of pain, she grabbed the edge of the kitchen island for support. it took her a few moments to shake off the remainder of the accident, but when she did she grabbed an apple from the table and fled from the house, letting the screen door shut with a snap behind her. she decided it'd be best if she made herself scarce quickly.
indenttaking a bite of the red fruit with a loud crunch, juice spraying into the morning air, heather walked through the grass at a quick pace. she looked around at the property as she did so, noticing a few others awake already. she wondered briefly if she should go over to them, but realized with a grin that she'd like to tell charlotte about her little stunt. she of all people would appreciate a little risk taking. stalking through the grass toward the king house, she quickly spotted her friend sitting on her usual perch on the roof. heather stopped at the bottom, gazing up at her, blocking the sun with one hand and waving with her apple in the other. "mornin!" she called. "mind if I join you?"

[ethereal .]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx'xxxxxxxx𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

i. poppy jean singleton ii. pj iii. seventeen iv.
cisfemale v. biromantic/sexual vi. king family
friend vii. straight, redish brown hair viii. haz
el eyes ix. light skin tone, normally on the pa
le side. x. stands at five feet three inches xi.
no tattoos or piercings. she was always too a
fraid to get any. xii. she has a few scars from
her childhood, but only a few are even still vis
ible. a thin line reaching from above her top l
ip through to the bottom lip, and another one
at the top of her cheekbone on the left side.

pj is mostly what a lot of people would consider an introvert. she likes to k
eep to herself or the people she's comfortable with, but by no means is she
a non confrontational person. if she feels that there is something that nee
ds to be said she will not hesitate to say it with her whole chest. backing d
own from a fight is not in her nature, and it never will be. ever since the b
eginning of the end she's had more of difficult time voicing her emotions a
nd it's frustrating for her to say the least. as of late they come through in
her actions more than anything. sorry, she's not a fan of physical contact b
ut she might just make you a snack while she's making her own. or if she se
es something and thinks you might like it she'll bring it back to you. it's the
little things, but you will never have to question her loyalty towards you.

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘

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[ethereal .]

𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎
the stranger ✰ loc; the woods ✰ tagged; joel ✰ mentioned; none

'bad things come in threes' has almost always been a superstition that lilian believed in, because more often than not it's actually been true. lately though, it seems like bad things..people..things..come in waves. when everything started it soon became clear that this life would never be one that she became accustomed with. at least not easily. time and time again, day after day, she's hit by the wave. it never fails to grab her by her core and chill to the bone.

before, it was incredibly easy to get lost in the darkness outside and in her own mind. all it took was rough fingers swiping over her once carefully placed tattoos to remind her of that. a difficult time that she almost refused to look back on, but that never worked out very well. at least now she had another person to suffer through the times with..for now. not a single day was ever guaranteed, but there's no doubt they've gotten out of sticky situations together that would have gone differently if they'd been alone. whether she admitted it or not, she and joel worked well together. having another person around kept her from slipping back to that dark place.

the only darkness it seemed she couldn't escape was that of the night. they always took watch in turns, but it felt like no matter what she did she always ended up staring out in the distance all throughout the night. sleep was not something she enjoyed considering she was always met with nightmares that were more or less a reality. what she did enjoy was watching the sky shift colors from black to navy blue, and then eventually a grey blue color. a tell tale sign that they had made it through another night. a win in her books.

this also meant the she no longer had to sit around, so another win. every morning she would get hit with an adrenaline rush that got her through the day. usually from thinking of what to expect or thinking of the events that happened on previous days. nothing like envisioning your past near death experiences to wake you up. it was joel's own rustling around that made her get moving so they could start their day. lifting her backpack up off her feet and slinging it over her shoulders. she didn't dare look through was little provisions she had left because it would only create a pit in her stomach that would leave her nauseous for days. then again, maybe she should. it would prevent her from eating one of her last cereal bars.

dark eyes glanced over and up at the man beside her as his words travelled to her ears. to head east or to go back the way they came. slow, calculated breaths made her chest rise as fall as she thought for a few quiet seconds, shaking her head once. "we already know what's back there, and we know what's here.." her words trickled off for a moment before she brought her eyes back up to his. decision making was the hard part. if they chose wrong they could be dead by this time tomorrow. "i say..we use the shack as the middle point. head east, the same distance as town is from here. if we don't find anything we can come back here and try our luck in the other direction tomorrow."

[8_Stars_8]

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬 𝑮𝑹𝑨𝒀 𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮
☀ ── we're happy, free, confused, and lonely at the same time
| tags: heather | location: roof of king house | word count: 398 |

although charlotte was usually very lax about any form of schedule, her morning routine never varied. wake up at four AM, brew a cup of coffee with a splash of milk, climb up onto the roof (thermos with coffee in hand, of course), and watch the sunrise. lottie liked to view this as a form of controlled chaos.

suffice to say, this morning wasn't an exception. after waking and making her coffee, charlotte set outside. she wore a simple flannel and jeans, and opted out of wearing shoes this morning. when she does choose to wear shoes, she usually goes for comfort over style - be that boots or tennis shoes. the tired wood of the porch ached under her footfall, comparatively, the grass that shone with morning dew hugged her feet. char waltzed over to the usual spot where she scaled the house. the wood siding was worn down to an ineffectual ladder, each log acting as a rung, from years of climbing by lottie. she followed this trail she made over the years, and hoisted herself up onto the roof. everything was a bit slippery from morning dew, yet charlotte found this made things all the more exhilirating. the roof creaked under her body weight, but it would hold. char laid down on the roof, which was at a gentle incline. she peered over the treetops, just beginning to see the sun poking through.

charlotte laid this way for a while. she sipped her coffee from the thermos and watched as the minutes flew by and the sun crept up the sky. she hardly noticed the rustlings of wakefulness beneath her, and the subsequent greeting of her friend, heather. she props herself up on her elbows so she can meet heather's gaze. "you know the way up." she said simply. the first couple of times heather had climbed up here, charlotte felt inclined to assist her, but now the ascension of the house became a rite of passage, or a judgement on who could enter her safe space. lottie knew heather could do it on her own, she had seen her do it countless times before. but that didn't mean that she was going to let her off the hook and make it easier for her. after all, charlotte had to get up here without aid, so why should she help someone else intrude in her space?

[brunchman2000]

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓━━━━━━━━ 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ━━━━ he/him - nineteen - link; ✶ ━━━━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━▓▓▓▓▓▓▓ 𝚝𝚊𝚐𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚐; harlow • 𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗; king house attic • 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜; mars, harlow, annie, dawson

indentthe only sound that filled the air was the furious scribbling of pen on paper as evan wrote. he'd covered a few pages now, mostly about how much he hated his life. as much as everyone told him to stop being negative, he couldn't help it. the most he could do was lessen his snarky remarks out loud and write them out instead. so that's what he did.
indenteventually, his hand started cramping up and he lost his focus, the passion of what he was writing gone just as quickly as it came. he let out a sigh through his nose, feeling slightly irritated as he shook his hand in an effort to relax it again. he glanced out the window too and noticed mars waving at him from her place on the lawn outside. he couldn't help but smile slightly as he waved back, his heart giving a little flutter that made him want to cringe. he was feeling things toward her that he didn't know how to deal with; things that he wouldn't even write in his journal. he just tried his best to shove them to the side and pretend that they didn't exist.
indenthe was snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of the floorboards creaking, making his head whip around to the latch at the opposite side of the room. he watched as his cousin, harlow, came up into the attic, taking a glance around at the small, stuffy space with a look of slight disapproval.
indenthe could almost guess what harlow would say before it was out of his mouth; something that would sound kind and considerate to others but sounded like a personal attack to evan. "well I like it up here because no one bothers me, most of the time..." evan replied smoothly with the slightest hint of sarcasm in his tone.
indenthe supposed that out of all of his family, harlow wasn't the worst that could have interrupted his peace and quiet. he was really glad it wasn't his mother who would try to coddle him or dawson, who'd follow him like a shadow. while he wasn't particularly close to harlow, he didn't seem like a bad person. that didn't stop evan from throwing the same barbed remarks at him, though.

[HauntedMansion]

Aunt Della Graham

She/her - loc: Graham family kitchen - tags: none - mentions: Lawrence Graham

Finishing off the last of her coffee in one final swig, Della brought her attention back to the notepad she held in her dominant hand, pondering any other task she could add to this atrocious repair list. Originally, the prospect of being able to build literally anything during the apocalypse had been exciting, right up until she realized that most dystopian movies had only ever offered glorified crap compared to reality. Unlike most movies, they were all stuck here in the forest, with no time to sneak away to raid abandoned junkyards or convenient stores.
At least in any of those generic zombie thrillers, people fought back. But here, now, they could only be prisoners to whatever was lurking beyond the trees. She unconsciously scowled at the thought, though she let it dissolve with a long sigh, grabbing the pen she had tucked away behind her ear to scribble something down. It always felt like whatever ended up on this list was just as tired of her trying to fix it as she was.

Her left hand didn’t let her forget about the empty coffee mug she was still holding for very long. Her muscles quivered within the binds of her cast, as twinging pain instantly began to grip at her wrist, threatening to crawl further along her fingers if she didn’t let off the pressure. She slammed the mug down in annoyance, completely forgetting the warnings her injured hand had been trying to give her in the first place. She let out a sharp yelp in surprise, retracting her hand back to be coddled in any attempt to lessen the dulling pain.
She would’ve hit the table again in retaliation, but took time to actually consider her injury before opting to kick one of the table legs instead. Satisfied in her attempt at payback, she slumped in her chair, running her fingers along the messy ink that coated the cast encasing her left wrist. It was only a sprain, and even though she wouldn’t need it for very long, it still ended up looking like the back alley of a tattoo parlor. For falling from the halfway point of the house, a sprained wrist was pretty lucky in her book. At least it was funny to see her brother’s reaction in comparison, who was pretty used to a couple of close calls by now. Though he didn’t find it nearly as funny as she did.