Clairvoyant Protector on RolePlayer.me - www.roleplayer.me/clairvoyantprotector Clairvoyant Protector
“Free will” is one of the most precious gifts we have.

Female
91 years old
Monroe, Connecticut
United States

Last Login:
January 23 2019

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“When I was a kid I had a favorite uncle.” She stated easily. “Most kids have a favorite relative, that’s not unusual. He was the greatest. Funny and outgoing and understanding. He was always there to listen and to encourage. He was more like a second father than an uncle and I loved him as much as anyone could.” She paused for a moment. “One day I did something that made him mad. I don’t even remember what it was. But, I remember that he hit me.” She cocked her head slightly. “That was something he never did.”

“It can be argued that anger makes people do things they wouldn’t usually do and I can accept that, but this was…different. I couldn’t find the words to explain it, but it wasn’t just that no matter how angry he got, he never raised a hand to any of us. It was something else. Something…bad. He was different. Not himself.”

She shook her head. “Everyone thought I was just making things up. Children tend to have overactive imaginations, after all. And what child wouldn’t try to get out of admitting they had been wrong and had been punished for it? It didn’t matter that I knew something was wrong, that I no longer felt safe around him, that I couldn’t bring myself to trust him as I once had. It was an overreaction from a child and nothing more.”

“Then he started to change in ways that everyone else could see. He became withdrawn, secretive. He was always quicker to anger, mean…violent. Everything that made him my uncle seemed to have flipped on its axis and the man I had known was gone.” She paused for a moment before continuing. “It was, of course, blamed on drugs or alcohol or even some medical issue that no one was aware of. But, seemingly endless tests revealed nothing of the sort. There didn’t seem to be anything physically wrong with him and so everyone was at a loss as to how to explain why he had changed.”

“Eventually he ended up killing my cousin and my aunt and…shortly after being admitted to a place similar to this –“ She shuddered because her experience at that institution wasn’t one she liked to remember. “- he killed himself. Of course, after a stay in an institution of any kind, one always carries the stigma of madness and that was a logical explanation for everything that had happened. But, it was a lie, even if no one would believe it. The last time I saw him alive – when I looked into his eyes – it wasn’t my uncle looking back at me. It was something else.”

She didn’t really give him a chance to respond before she was continuing. “Shortly after that, I told one of the Sisters at the Catholic school I attended that her light shone brighter than that of even the Mother Superior’s. This was a good thing, I thought. Who didn’t want to know that they were that good? Instead of being pleased, I was sent away on a weekend…retreat where nothing was allowed but prayer. No socializing, no talking, only prayer and contemplation on the reasons I was there.”

“After a while I started to think that maybe everyone was right. Maybe I was just making up stories, projecting wishful thinking, being ‘fanciful’ – “ She made a face at the last word, a word she still hated to this day. “ – normal people couldn’t see things that weren’t there. They couldn’t know things before they happened. They couldn’t feel and sense things invisible to the rest of the world. And I wanted so much to be normal. What twelve-year-old doesn’t?”

She shook her head again. “When I returned, I was different, just as they had wanted. I no longer told stories or pointed out things that weren’t there. I had half convinced myself that none of it was real and I just needed to grow up and leave such childish things behind. If I didn’t speak of them, then they weren’t really there.” She paused to meet his eyes. “But, denial doesn’t make those things go away. In fact, those things in the shadows are drawn to those who are weak or vulnerable or chosen for whatever reason and by whatever does the choosing.” Her eyes flickered to the shadows around them as if making a point.

“They congregate when they think they have the upper hand and someone who is…untrained and in denial is someone they want very much. If I hadn’t met my husband when I did, I would probably have ended up like my uncle or worse. He believed everything, he convinced me that I could see and feel these things for a reason and I needed to learn how to use these ‘gifts’ I’d been given. If he hadn’t…There are much worse things than death.”

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The Conjuring: Since the 1960’s, Ed and Lorraine Warren have been known as the world’s most renowned paranormal investigators. Lorraine is a gifted clairvoyant, while Ed is the only non-ordained Demonologist recognized by the Catholic Church.

Out of the thousands of cases throughout their controversial career, there is one case so malevolent, they’ve kept it locked away until now.










Full Name: Lorraine Rita Warren (nee Moran)
Nicknames: Lori, Rainey, Raine
Aliases: None
Date Of Birth: January 31st, 1927
Place Of Birth: Bridgeport, CT
Current Residence: Monroe, CT
Hair Color: Brown
Eye Color: Blue
Mother: Georgiana Moran
Father: James Moran
Sister(S): Margaret (Maggie) and Joan Moran
Brother(S): Richard (Ricky) Moran
Other Family: Sister Irene (Cousin)
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Married
Current Relationship(s): Ed Warren
Past Relationship(s): None
Languages Spoken: English
Occupation: Clairvoyant, Paranormal Investigator, Mother, Wife
Job Description: Paranormal Investigator
Employer: Self-Employed






DISCLAIMER


Originally I had wanted to keep Lorraine as close to the real person as possible (while tying it into the movie character that most people are more familiar with), but my research, sadly (and irritatingly) didn't turn up enough information for me to do that. Therefore, her backstory is made up by me, with a few facts that I was able to find thrown in for authenticity (including family). I don't claim that it's real and it is a work in progress.




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STARTERS:

Half-Breed

REPLIES:
Acrimony
Stephano
The Devil's Son
Cap'n Supermarket
Ali-Cat
Jack the Ripper
Little Manson
Chloe
sidneyprescott
Star Shine
wildflower
Lab-Rat
Finit Hic Dio
Necro-Sorciere


PROMPTS:
Valak
The Cârța Monastery was built somewhere in Romania by a duke centuries ago. Becoming obsessed with dark magic and Satanism, the Duke attempted to summon a demonic force from the catacombs only to be killed by the members of the Vatican who then sealed the rift with the Blood of Christ. Hundreds of years later, the monastery was bombed heavily during the events of World War II, releasing the same evil spirit from its imprisonment. The demon had since taken the form of a nun as a means of blending with the other nuns. Throughout the years, nuns continuously prayed in communion to combat the evil, but in vain as the demonic entity walked freely around the monastery all nights, in the form of a nun to mock their faith.

In 1952, Valak had slain several of the nuns, leaving only two survivors. Sister Victoria, with a key in hand, commits suicide in order to prevent Valak from claiming her as a host. Sometime after her death, the Vatican tasked Burke and Sister Irene to investigate. Valak manipulated them, ranging from creating mass illusions with the ghosts of the slain nuns to weaken Sister Irene to tormenting Father Burke by taking the form of a young boy who had died from a botched exorcism at his hands. Valak then buried Father Burke alive before luring Sister Irene to become possessed. When the catacombs began to flood, Valak tried to strangle Sister Irene to death. While inspecting her for any vital signs, Sister Irene spit the Blood of Christ onto Valak, burning it severely. The rift was then resealed. However, this would prove to not be the end of the Demon Nun as when the group was leaving, Frenchie, a French Canadian otherwise known as Maurice was revealed to have an inverse cross branded on the back of his neck. This segues to a film and conversation discussed during a lesson the Warrens were giving about demonic possession.


“During the exorcism he – it – showed me something.” She tried again. Getting at least that full sentence out. “I saw the demon. Or, at least the form it was choosing to take. A form meant to shake my faith and my foundation. But, worse…worse was the vision of Ed’s death.” She swallowed hard. The very thought made her tremble, sent ice shooting through her veins and made her mind scream in terror. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued, talking about it even harder than she had anticipated. “I’m not stupid. I know that these beings can pluck things out of your mind and show you the thing you fear the most. But, this…this was different. This wasn’t just a vision, it was a premonition. I know it.”

Music
WAVERLY HILLS

Waverly Hills Sanatorium wasn’t exactly a place Lorraine wanted to go. It was believed to be one of the most haunted places in the world, and even if that wasn’t the case, many people had suffered and died there and that in itself made it somewhere she didn’t want to be. At one point the place had been a functioning tuberculosis hospital, and since there was no cure at the time, the suffering there had been unimaginable. She could only imagine what residual things had been left behind, even if they weren’t the believed to be the ghosts and other entities of the reported sightings.

She knew the stories, of course. Pretty much everyone did. The body chute that led from the hospital to nearby railroad tracks where a motorized rail and cable system would lift the bodies onto trains that would take them away. Made necessary by the fact that none of the treatments, be they the pleasant variety such as fresh air, sunshine, rest and good food or the torturous ones such as inserting balloons into patients’ lungs and manually filling them with air to help with breathing or removing ribs and muscle tissue to give damaged lungs more room were effective at all and the death toll was just too large to deal with on site. The very idea itself was enough to scare many people and start rumors and stories of its own.

There were tales of footsteps, doors swinging shut, the smell of freshly baked bread from a kitchen in such disrepair that it would be impossible to bake, let alone the fact that no one was there to be doing the baking. There was talk of moving shadows, mysterious footprints appearing in puddles of water and even people heading for the roof and suddenly feeling the desire to jump.

Some claimed there was a ghost of an elderly woman bleeding from her hands and feet and moaning as she roamed the hospital, a reminder of the suffering that had been endured there. And, of course, there was little Timmy or Bobby or Mary. The ghost of a six or seven-year-old boy or girl, trapped in the hospital, unable to move on because they had died so young with so much left undone with their life. Visitors often brought balls for the child ghost to play with, claiming to see them moving on their own.

Doppelgängers were also reported. Spirits that can mimic the appearance, voice and movements of those it encounters. People claimed to have seen doubles of themselves or others, identical in every way to those it was mimicking except for the black holes where the eyes should be.

And then there was room 502. Every haunted place had a special room that was thought to be worse than the rest. Cursed or evil or just one of the main places to avoid. This particular room was the location of two deaths of what had been seen as perfectly healthy people rather than those in the hospital because of the disease it was there to attempt to treat.

Local legend said that the head nurse of Room 502 was found hanging from a light fixture in the room in 1928, an apparent suicide triggered by an unwanted pregnancy. Nearly four years later another nurse who worked in the same room jumped off the roof – or out the window - to her death. Something or someone in that room was said to have caused these things to happen.

Then there was the legend that the whole place was haunted by something called The Creeper. A dark and terrifying entity that crawled along the walls and floors of the place. Some believed it was some kind of demonic force or inhuman entity, others thought it was a human spirit that was twisted by the torture and trauma of a tubercular death. Whatever it was was said to fill those who encountered it with a feeling of dread and doom.

After the Sanatorium was closed, it reopened in as a geriatric hospital. It was closed in under allegations of patient abuse; strange experiments on the unwilling, shock treatments for non-existent conditions and the like. The property was purchased again, by someone new, with plans to erect the world’s tallest statue of Jesus and a religious center. The statue, which would have been based on the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro but twenty feet taller. When plans for that fell through, due to lack of funding, the purchaser of the land tried to have the building condemned. There were also failed plans to make the place a prison. It was eventually bought by a couple with plans to completely restore the hospital and currently held haunted tours and such.

Those tours and investigations weren’t things Lorraine had ever found herself wanting to do. In fact, she preferred to stay far away from such places if she could help it. Her curiosity didn’t draw her toward them as many might think because she had experienced enough things of a dark nature that she knew that curiosity did indeed kill the cat and information did not bring it back.

But, she didn’t often get what she wanted and so when the call came for their help, she knew they were going to accept. It was what they did, after all. Despite the many skeptics and nonbelievers who thought they were frauds and liars, there were still those who genuinely needed their help and accepted that there were things in existence that weren’t considered ‘normal’ by any standards. Or were at least willing to give the benefit of the doubt to find out what was truly going on around them.

This particular case involved a girl who was apparently being held inside the building against her will, possessed by a malevolent entity. Police had investigated and had died for their efforts. No one else could help. Or maybe no one else was willing to try. It was a lot to ask someone to go into such a place. It was even more to ask when people had gone in for that particular reason and had died as a result. But, again, that was what they did. Things that other people couldn’t.

So, she merely asked for all the details she could get before agreeing that she and her husband would indeed help with this investigation to the best of their ability. She didn’t have to ask Ed for his agreement, knowing she would have it even as she gave it. Once she had everything she needed to at least walk into the situation as prepared as she could be, she made arrangements for a flight and hotel before meeting her husband’s curious gaze.

“What do you think about Waverly Hills?”
MOST SPECTACULAR SHOW:

The year was 1933. It was the height of what would be known throughout history as The Great Depression. Over fifteen million Americans were unemployed and times were rougher than anyone could imagine. A few years before, on what was now called Black Tuesday, the stock market had crashed. Billions of dollars were lost, wiping out thousands of investors and causing stock tickers to run hours behind because the machinery could not handle the large volume of trading.

Stock prices had begun to decline in September and early October of 1929, and on October 18th, the fall began. On October 24th a record number of shares were traded due to onset panic. Investment companies and leading bankers attempted to stabilize the market by buying up great blocks of stock, producing a moderate rally on the Friday before that fateful day. On Monday, the market went into a free fall and by Black Tuesday, the stock prices collapsed completely.

After that day, there was a brief recovery, but prices continued to drop and by 1932 stocks were worth only about 20 percent of their value of 1929. By 1933, half of the banks in America had failed and thirty percent of the workforce was unemployed.

Factories and other businesses were forced to slow down production and begin firing their workers. For those lucky enough to remain employed, wages fell and many were forced to buy on credit which threw them into debt as foreclosures and repossessions steadily climbed in number.

Unskilled inner city men had a higher unemployment rate than those of jobs in nondurable industries such as food and clothing. Young people had a hard time getting their first job and men over the age of 45, if they lost their job, would rarely find another one because there was a choice of much younger men to pick from.

Industrial production continued to drop while bread lines, soup kitchens and a rising number of homeless people became more common across America. Farmers couldn’t afford to harvest their crops and were forced to leave them rotting in the fields while people elsewhere starved.

‘Hoovervilles’ began to rise – assemblages of cardboard boxes, tents, and small rickety sheds built on vacant lots by homeless people. These residents begged for food or went to soup kitchens if they could.

Bank runs had swept across the country as investors began to demand deposits in cash, forcing banks to liquidate loans in order to supplement their insufficient cash reserves on hand and by 1933, thousands of banks had gone belly up and closed their doors as farmers defaulted on their loans and there was no federal deposit insurance to fall back on because bank failures were considered a normal part of economic life.

By Inauguration Day 1933, after voting in Franklin D. Roosevelt as their president every state had ordered all remaining banks to close at the end of this fourth wave of banking panics and the Treasury didn’t have enough cash to pay all government workers. Despite the hardships, FDR remained optimistic, declaring that “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

---

Six-year-old Lorraine Moran knew nothing of what had caused the hard times everyone seemed to be experiencing. She had no full understanding of just how bad things were because her young mind had nothing to compare it to. She had known nothing else.

Were times hard? Sure. She knew that much. She saw how people on the streets suffered and she hurt for them. They weren’t even bad people, not all of them, and so she didn’t understand why they had to suffer so much. It wasn’t fair. She often felt helpless because there was really nothing she could do for these people she saw. They had nothing, but she didn’t have much more.

Oh, her family was lucky. That was something else she knew. They didn’t have a lot, but they had a house and food on their table and each other. That was more than a lot of people could say and she knew she should feel grateful for the things they had. She just wanted others to have those things as well.

Sitting cross legged in front of the radio in their living room – another thing that could almost be considered a luxury – she smiled wistfully as she listened to the commercial for the Benzini Brothers circus. The ‘Most Spectacular show on Earth!” She wanted so much to be able to go. It was a rare thing that the circus came to town and it was only for one night. But, she also knew that there was slim to no chance of that happening, no matter how much she might want it. They didn’t have the money for a ticket, let alone anything else that might come along with the event.

So, not bothering to mention it to her parents, she sighed as the commercial ended and the music started, closing her eyes as she imagined the people and performers and animals that the circus would bring. Imagination was the next best thing when you couldn’t see something for real…

---

The tent was huge. Bigger than anything she had ever seen in her young life. Looking around with wide eyes, she tried to take it all in. There were so many people…people of all shapes and sizes. All loud and enthusiastic and happy. Maybe this really was the most spectacular place on Earth after all. It would have to be to bring joy to so many people.

She still couldn’t believe that she was there at all, that the wistful dream had come true when her parents had randomly surprised her with tickets to the one place she wanted to go to more than any other. How they had known, she would never guess, but she would be forever grateful that they did.

There was so much to see that she was fairly certain it just wouldn’t be possible to get to it all in one short day. So, she made the best of it while she could, eyes darting this way and that as she tugged on the hand of her mother or father – whichever was closer at the moment – and pointed things out with childish enthusiasm and glee.

“Look at the clowns!”
“Over there! The elephants!”
“Oooh! Tigers!”

She was overwhelmed with pleasure and excitement as they even got popcorn and cotton candy to munch on as they made the rounds that ended with the main tent that had so caught her eye from the moment they had first approached the grounds. This time, her parents walked on either side of her, her hands in theirs, as they entered and looked for somewhere with the best view of the ring in the center of the tent.

It was brightly lit and set up for several different attractions from acrobats to lion tamers to crazy clowns meant to amuse. It was one of the best things she could imagine and the rest of the audience seemed to agree as laughter and shouts and applause broke out randomly and consistently, overwhelming her small ears at times and making it hard to hear anything else. But, that was okay. She could see these other things and that was all that mattered.

She was surprised when it was time for the main attraction and that noise began to die down almost instantly. A glance around showed a kind of heightened expectation, different from what had been shown before and she wasn’t sure what to expect. The show had been amazing so far, what could be better than what they had already witnessed?

She tilted her head slightly, eyes glued on the beautiful blonde woman who entered the ring. She was followed by three horses who looked like the most well behaved animals she had ever seen. The woman was impressive before she even did anything, something about her drawing Lorraine’s full attention and striking the desire to meet her in her heart. It wasn’t something that happened too much. She always wanted to do things for people, but she didn’t always want to meet them upon first seeing them. Something about this woman shined even without the lights around her. It was a different kind of light and Lorraine was drawn to it in some way she couldn’t begin to describe.

The audience watched in wonder as the woman bowed gracefully and began her show, making an elaborate gesture to the horse in the lead to which the horse, without hesitation, dropped to roll over on the ground before getting to its feet once more. Almost like a trained dog, but so much more impressive, this trick led into many more awe inspiring ones including acrobatics performed by the woman and the horses all. Somehow it was clear that the animals cared for her as she cared for them and that made the show even more awe inspiring.

The applause that rang out at its conclusion was louder than anything she had ever thought it could be and her own hands and shouts were intermingled with those of everyone around her before they began to make their way from the tent. Blinking, she realized that this was her chance. She couldn’t let go of the idea that she wanted to meet this beautiful and mysterious woman who so charmed the horses and the audience alike and so she did something she never did. She stepped away from her parents and into the crowd without asking for permission.

It didn’t cross her mind that she could get lost or lose her parents or that they would be separated for very long, even though the crowd was a large one. She only thought about what she wanted and that was what she focused on as she squeezed through the taller and bigger people around her, murmuring an ‘excuse me’ that they couldn’t hear as she tried to stay on her feet while going the opposite direction of everyone around her.

When she finally reached the perimeter of the performance ring, she was relieved to see that the woman was still there, talking to one of her horses as she gently stroked it. She had half feared that she would have missed her and there was no chance she would be able to find her to tell her how impressed she was by her show.

“Um, hi!” She called out as loudly as she could, waving to get the woman’s attention and hoping that the crowd around her wasn’t still loud enough to drown her out completely. It would be a big let down to get this far only to not be heard and miss out on her chance. “Hello?” She called again, waiting to see if she was doing this for nothing or not.
Movies
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Verses ❐ The Conjuring
❐ Horror
❐ Supernatural/Paranormal
❐ AU/Crossovers Writing Style ❐ Multi-para
❐ Novella Dues ❐ Starters (1)
❐ Replies (15)
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LINE: wordsonfire
Twelve years old and on a weekend retreat from the Catholic girls’ school she normally attended. A weekend that didn’t allow for socializing or even talking of any kind. Only praying. Deemed necessary by one of the teachers at her school because she had been considered ‘fanciful’ when she told the Sister that the woman’s light shown brighter even than that of the Mother Superior. How was she to know that others couldn’t see the things she saw? She had thought it was perfectly normal. And, oh how she wanted to be normal. Why couldn’t she just be like everyone else?

She truly didn’t understand why someone wouldn’t want to know something like that. A brighter light meant a brighter soul, a good person. Shouldn’t everyone be told they were good? But, if there was one thing that Lorraine Moran was, it was a fast learner. That weekend made her realize that the things she saw, sensed and felt were not normal, everyday things that everyone experienced. They were not always things people wanted pointed out and maybe…maybe they were not things she should talk about at all.

Because, they were not always good things like what she had said to the Sister. She saw other things, too. Things that were scary and she wanted to pretend weren’t there because if she didn’t acknowledge them, maybe they would go away. Those things she didn’t talk about. Talking made things more real and she couldn’t pretend if she brought those things into the light.

Shadows slithering, sliding, creeping. Sometimes appearing somewhat humanoid in shape, sometimes nothing even close. Sometimes just something slightly darker than the shadows around it, sometimes something not visible at all but still so clearly there. A whisper in the dark. A feeling of being watched, stalked, hunted. A bad feeling that couldn’t be described as anything but just that: bad.

The weekend away gave her time to do nothing but think and she didn’t like where that thinking had taken her. The Sister had said that she was fanciful because she had pointed out something that others couldn’t see. Was that true? Was she making it up? She didn’t think so. Why would she do that when she wanted nothing more than to be like everyone else? When she had thought she was like everyone else. No, what she saw was really there, but maybe…maybe it didn’t have to be.

Maybe if she denied it hard enough, convinced herself, willed hard enough…maybe it would just all go away. She couldn’t think of these abilities – if that was the right word for them – as gifts at all. They were more like a curse that made her stand out among the rest of the world, prevented her from fitting in, and showed her things she didn’t understand. Things she sometimes didn’t want to. What was the good in having such things?

Her retreat had been a sobering one and her return revealed a different child. She was even more quiet and somber upon first arriving. Clearly the weekend had had its intended effect and she was no longer going to be going on about the things that had caused her to be sent away in the first place. She was going to focus more on her studies and the things that her school and the church offered. She would be what they wanted her to be and leave those other things behind.

She would.

---

It was harder than she had anticipated, deliberately not seeing the things all around her, not allowing herself to believe they were there, that she had made them up and had now seen the light. It was like something constantly out of whack, out of reach. It was like walking on egg shells as she attempted to play the part of normal, dutiful little Catholic girl with nothing extraordinary about her at all.

But, no matter how much she pretended, how much she wished it all away, she couldn’t stop it all completely. In sleep she had no control. In sleep those things suppressed in the daylight had free reign. Both the good and the bad, but the bad seemed to have more strength the more she tried to deny it all.

Darkness. A darkness so black that it felt almost tangible, thick and inky and oppressive. There was something there in that darkness. Watching. Waiting. For what she had no idea, but it sent chills down her spine and jolted her into what she thought was wakefulness.

Jerking upright in bed with a gasp, she pulled her blankets up to her chin and squinted as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the blackness around her. It took longer than she thought and a terror began to creep through her as her eyes darted this way and that, trying to detect what it was that was in the room with her.

When that didn’t work, she squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to the blankets almost like a shield that would protect her from anything that might wish her harm. “This isn’t real…I made it all up…I’m a fanciful child with fanciful stories that have no basis in reality.” The first part was her own thinking, the second parroted from what she had been repeatedly told before the epiphany that brought her to her current state of denial.

“This isn’t real. I made it all up.” The words were repeated as if she could convince herself and therefore the world that they were true. Almost a prayer in their intensity and the desperate need for them to protect her. Something she didn’t feel she could do herself, something she had been telling herself wasn’t necessary. If things weren’t real, then she needed no protection from them.

She was trembling as the words faded, but her mouth continued to move, silently repeating the words over and over. The words froze on her lips and ice shot through her veins as she felt something touch her shoulder. What flashed before her eyes was something she couldn’t describe later had she tried.

Evil.
Pure evil.
Screams.
Darkness.
Pain.
Loss.

So many people suffering. So much torture and death and worse. Betrayal and possession and everything that couldn’t exist that went bump in the night. People dying, people crying, people hurting each other and themselves.

Laughter, cruel and mocking and triumphant. Eyes glowing red, eyes black as the deepest pit of Hell. Claws and teeth and horns. Cheshire grins and eternal amusement with the suffering of others.

A voice, deep and regretful, almost shimmering in the darkness, sad as it came from the shadows. Unfamiliar, never before heard, but resonating in her heart nonetheless: “I’m sorry, Lorraine.”

A shock, another jolt, but of a different kind. Her eyes snapping open, tears streaming down young, child plump cheeks. “No!” Sobs tearing from her throat as her head jerked back and forth in denial, in terror. Overwhelmed and teetering on the brink of insanity. Something clicking, almost snapping into place with a finality that left her senses numb as the visions faded and the silence descended once more.

Opening her eyes once more, she swallowed hard, the painful sobs tapering off slowly. The darkness was fading, the touch on her shoulder gone as if it had never existed. A glance around and she knew she wasn’t alone. But, this presence was different. This presence was lighter. This presence didn’t want to hurt her. Yet part of her didn’t want to see it either. Didn’t want to see any of it. She just wanted it all to fade back into her imagination where it all belonged.

But, it wasn’t fading. It was only getting stronger and since it wasn’t going away, she did the only thing she could. She called out to it. “Hello?” Her voice trembled, hoarse as if it hadn’t been used for some time. “I know you’re there!” It didn’t come out as strong as she wanted it to, but part of her knew it didn’t have to. She would be heard whether she spoke aloud or not. “I’m not scared!” A total lie. She was still trembling as she watched and waited for what was to come.

It couldn’t be worse than what she had already seen, could it? She wasn’t sure, but she knew she was about to find out as she watched something step out of the shadows.

---

Whatever the reason for these dreams, they only made Lorraine more determined than ever to suppress these things, to ignore them, to forget them if she could. For the next few years, that was just what she did. She focused on being what she was supposed to be: just like everyone else. Or…not quite just like them, but at least normal.

Oh, her girlfriends became use to her little quirks. The times when her attention would wander and she would appear to be somewhere else entirely. They just figured that she was daydreaming more than the rest of them and they needed to draw her attention back. They liked her enough that they were usually more amused by it than anything, teasing her about what she might have been thinking about that had taken her attention from them. They were never even remotely close, but it was nice to know that they accepted the things that she couldn’t – wouldn’t – explain to them. It was good because it helped her to ignore it better as well, though none of it ever fully went away.

It wasn’t until she was sixteen-years-old that this began to change. That was the year that she met her soulmate and the one person who believed her, who understood, because he went through things that were unexplainable and definitely not ‘normal’ as well. She knew from the moment that they met that they were meant to be together and she wasn’t wrong.

Engaged at seventeen, married at eighteen, they were as close as it was possible for two people to be. Truly two halves of one soul brought together for a reason. Though Lorraine didn’t know that reason at first and she didn’t really care. They were together and that was what mattered. Even after he enlisted and left her for a time. They still managed to make it work. They had each other, they had their daughter and somehow she always knew he was going to come back to her.

And he did. And he brought her back to herself as well. It was because of him that she began to accept her abilities. Those things he called ‘gifts.’ The things she had been trying to ignore and get rid of for the last four years of her life. She began to accept that she was never really going to be normal and that was okay because neither of them were normal but they could be odd together. They could use that strangeness for good. They could use it to help others. People who couldn’t find help anywhere else because no one else believed.

And so, that was what they did. She embraced her clairvoyance and other abilities and he became the only non-ordained demonologist recognized by the Catholic church and they set out to do what they were meant to do.

At first it was touch and go, hit and miss. At first people didn’t ask for their help, they had to offer it. But, they had to offer it in a way that it seemed like they weren’t. In their twenties, the young couple would be drawn to these ‘haunted’ houses and to gain access they took a rather odd route, but one that seemed to work out rather well. Her husband would stand outside the house, sketching it and then painting it while those inside watched and wondered what he was doing. Once the painting was finished, she would take it to the door and offer it to the residents as a special gift, all of her personality and charm gaining them access to do what they needed to do.

It wasn’t long before they became more well known and people started seeking out their help. It was help they didn’t deny and the cases stacked up, but never blended into each other. They weren’t all legitimate, of course. Though all the cases they accepted were from people who truly believed they were being haunted. A lot of those scary things could be explained away, debunked without too much effort and those were the cases that they liked. That was what they wanted the results to be.But, there were plenty of times that was not the case as well and the things they faced were much darker, much scarier, much more dangerous. Those were the things that lingered in her mind and heart and took a little piece of her each time they faced them. Those were the things that she refused to let conquer her – though one had come close – and that was how she found herself where she did today.
Warren
Lorraine
Monsters
Are
real
The main connection image is ONE photo. You do not need to crop it into three individual images. This layout will do that for you. Upload a 600px width by 300px height photo and add the url for that pic in the background-image:url(HERE) section above.
Ed Warren (OPEN)
How we met: At the theater where Ed worked.
First Date:
First kiss:
Take my hand
Take my whole life, too
'Cause I can't help
Falling in love with you
*****First connection box (left side) starts here.*****
(OPEN HUSBAND ROLE: CONTACT IF INTERESTED)

The day sixteen-year-old Lorraine Moran met her soulmate was a day like any other. The year was 1943 and signs of the war raging over seas were present all around them as she and a couple of her girlfriends walked the main street of Bridgeport, Connecticut on their way toward the Polis Majestic theater. Posters and radio ads screamed for the purchase of war bonds, an emotional plea for the citizens of the United States to support their men and their country in a simple act of patriotism that anyone could participate in. Everywhere you looked you were encouraged to do your part and contribute to the national defense.

Enlistment posters were just as prominent, recruitment attempts for men to fight for their country, their freedom and to destroy the Japanese who had gotten the US involved in this war to begin with - Pearl Harbor had been forgotten by no one – and to free those held under Nazi tyranny to reopen world communication and cooperation. Women were encouraged to join the fight as well, due to the shortage of manpower. Not only were they needed as switchboard operators, telegraphers, mechanics and drivers, but to actually join the women’s Army corps and the Navy. By the fall of last year the Women’s Auxiliary Air Squadron began training women pilots who flew planes to different military bases in the United States. They tested the aircrafts and performed other non-combat flight duties, afraid they would never be allowed in the military again if they weren’t sufficient in a chosen role. Woman power was on the rise.

Even those at home were encouraged to accept the ration books with grace and dignity, proving that women were just as important in their ability to care for their families, to keep them happy and healthy on less than they had once had. That rationing was an art that women were to be praised and appreciated for. They were also encouraged and expected to step into the rolls of the men who had gone overseas to fight for their country, staffing factories and manufacturing plants, for the duration of the war and only until the men returned. Many women who had been employed in fields strictly for women, such as secretarial positions and domestic jobs were eager to try their hands at jobs only men had done before, becoming taxi and streetcar drivers, heavy construction machinery operators, lumber and steel mill workers, building dirigibles, making munitions and much more.

Propaganda was everywhere that you looked, print, film and radio. Rosie the Riveter, in her bandana covered hair and her blue coveralls with the sleeve rolled back proclaimed “We Can Do It!" from posters seen just about everywhere.

Amidst that propaganda and the demands that the country to what it could to aid in the war efforts, radios cried out news from around the world, while newspapers could be seen on street corners and in hands of many around the city, headlines screaming out to catch the attention of those patriotic enough to care…or just curios as to the state of the world they were now living in.

WAR CONFERENCE OF HIGH OFFICERS HELD IN NORTH AFRICA

ROSEVELT, STALIN, CHURCHILL AGREE ON PLANS FOR WAR ON GERMANY IN TALKS AT TEHERAN; 1,500 MORE TONS OF BOMBS DROPPED ON BERLIN

U.S. FORCES HAVE OUTFLANKED JAPS ON GUADALCANAL

ALLIES TAKE 2 CITIES: DUCE FREE, SAY NAZIS

JAPS EXECUTE YANKEE PRISONERS

AMERICANS TAKE KASSERINE GAP: BRITISH PROBE MARETH OUTPOSTS: NAZI ATTACKS SLOW SOVIET DRIVE

---


None of that was really on the minds of the three girls as they walked, however. Though war and its effects swirled around them and was unavoidable, life still had to go on and they were still teenagers. Discussions ranged from school to studies to friends – and enemies – to the fact that Betty had a new pair of Saddle shoes. Of all of the topics, the shoes were by far the most important because there was a shoe ration along with all of the others and shoes were, of course, a big deal for all of the girls.

“Aren’t they just killer-diller?” Betty was twisting her foot this way and that, just outside the movie theater where they now stood, so that her two companions could get the best view of her new footwear. She knew that she was stylish and a thing of jealousy in that moment. None of her friends had such a thing to show off and so she was enjoying her brief moment in the spotlight. She flipped her dark hair over one shoulder and offered a huge smile to her friends.

“Yeah, yeah.” Alice was rolling her eyes and making a point of looking anywhere but at those coveted shoes while sneaking a glance whenever she could. She didn’t have as much as most of her friends, money or material possessions, and jealousy hit her hard and often. As her gaze was drawn to those pristine white bobby socks and the ever-coveted shoes, she repressed a scowl, but she couldn’t manage a smile. So, she settled for an attempt at aloof instead.

She knew her attempt was futile when Betty’s smile only grew and she preened even more. She seemed to live on other peoples’ admiration and jealousy. “Aw, c’mon, Ali-girl.” She wheedled. “You know they’re pretty special. You can admit it, I won’t tell.” She stuck her foot out again, admiring the shoe herself. “You know, I’m sure Charles would get you a pair if you asked him real nicely.” She spoke as if the idea was an offhand one, but the sly smirk said otherwise.

That drew Alice’s attention back and her eyes narrowed slightly before she shook her head as if brushing the idea off without much thought. “Charles has much more important things to spend his money on than that.” She spoke as if her boyfriend were above such things and her friend was a child for even suggesting such a thing. Besides, it took much more than just money to acquire more shoes than each family was allotted in their ration books.

“More important than you?” Betty couldn’t resist, though she knew she was pushing it. Not only was Alice the jealous type when it came to things like killer-diller shoes, but she was very possessive of the aforementioned boyfriend and the slightest mention of him being anything less than completely devoted was enough to set her scowling.

When the dig got her nothing more than the expected scowl, she was somewhat disappointed. But, since she didn’t really want to fight anyway, she shrugged and turned her attention to her other friend who had made no mention of her shoes or their friend’s boyfriend’s priorities. “What do you think, Lorraine?” She asked, sticking out her foot one more time, knowing she could usually count on at least an attempt at pleasantries from that corner.

Lorraine, however, wasn’t paying attention to the controversial shoe conversation at all. Her gaze was riveted on the movie house they stood outside, a slightly glazed look in her eyes. Something pulled her toward the place, though she would never in a million years tell her friends that. She had learned her lesson the hard way when she was twelve and she had mentioned to the nun at the girls’ Catholic school she was attending that her light shown brighter than even the Mother Superior’s.

At the time she had thought that everyone could see and feel the things she did, but she had quickly learned that was not the case. That revelation had resulted in a weekend away that allowed for no talking or socializing of any kind. An entire weekend of strictly praying and contemplating the admonishment to not be so fanciful. While she might not have learned the lesson that was intended, she had learned another. Those things about her weren’t special at all. They made her different and different was not what she wanted to be.

She had stopped mentioning anything that could be considered different or strange, buried those abilities, or whatever they were, deeply inside. She tried to avoid them, to tell herself that they weren’t real and that the Sister had been right. She was just a fanciful child. Yet, even at her most convincing, they never went away entirely.

“Lorraine!” Betty snapped her fingers in front of her face with an exasperated and yet amused expression. She and Alice were used to their friend’s wandering mind and constant distractions. She often seemed to be elsewhere, thinking about other things rather than paying attention to what was going on around her. But, that was okay. They liked her anyway. “You awake in there?”

Blinking, Lorraine stared at her friend for a moment and then she felt a heat rise to her cheeks that she hoped wasn’t resulting in a visible blush. “Sorry. I was thinking about something else.” She murmured, relieved to see a grin on Betty’s face, though she adopted a mock offended expression shortly after.

“Clearly!” She huffed, hands on her hips. “Here we were, admiring my new shoes and you weren’t even paying attention! And I thought you were my friend!” She put a hand dramatically over her heart and the other on her forehead as if she were a martyr from one of the movies they all so loved and might just pass out from the utter betrayal.

After a moment, she peeked at Lorraine from under the hand on her forehead and her expression shifted to one more knowing and teasing. “There’s only one thing I can think of that might be more important than me.” She said, dropping both hands and leaning slightly forward. A glance at Alice showed that the other girl was apparently over their little discussion and was arching an eyebrow as she waited to hear what the darker girl had come up with.

“Something’s more important than you?” Lorraine attempted levity, but she wasn’t sure what her friend was getting at, so she didn’t try too hard. “I would never have guessed.”

“Only one thing.” Betty nodded sagely, pausing dramatically for a long moment. “Boys!”

The revelation made both Lorraine and Alice blink in surprise and then they all burst into laughter. It would figure that was the one thing Betty would deem important. “Boys? Why would I be thinking about boys?” Lorraine finally asked, neither confirming nor denying the accusation.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Betty asked in return, shifting to link her arm with both of her friends as she guided them toward the ticket booth. She almost started laughing again when she saw just who it was that was working the booth and settled for subtly nudging Lorraine’s shoulder meaningfully instead.

Lorraine didn’t notice the nudge, her attention was once more focused on something that wasn’t her friends. Though the same age as them, she wasn’t so sure that Ed Warren qualified as a ‘boy.’ He was serious and hard working and…well, she didn’t know him enough to know what else he was. She just knew that she often saw him working here at the theater when she made her way downtown. He was…interesting, but she had never really spoken to him at all. Ignoring the nudge completely, she released both of her friends’ arms and stepped forward to request their tickets, offering a shy smile to Ed as she slid her money forward.

He studied her for a long moment and then placed the money on top of the tickets and slid them all back to her with a smile. “On the house.”

The smile did things to her that she hadn’t thought possible and Lorraine was at a loss for words as she reached for the money and tickets. “Oh, you don’t have to do that.” She finally managed, attempting to pay once more, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to figure out just what it was that was going on.

He shook his head and mock pouted. “Are you trying to stop me from being a gentleman here?” He asked as if disappointed. “I’m trying to do a favor for a pretty lady. I would appreciate it if you’d just accept it.” He flashed that smile one more time and she couldn’t come up with a reply.

“Hey, thanks!” Betty swooped in to the rescue, grinning at Ed while she took Lorraine’s arm and started to guide her into the theater. “Come on, Lorraine. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.” She offered a wave back to Edward and pulled Lorraine forward.

A glance back showed Lorraine that he was watching her. Something clicked with almost an audible sound, making her feel an entirely different warmth than the embarrassment of a few minutes earlier. She found herself offering him the most beautifully sincere smile she had ever displayed before returning her attention to her friends.

“I think he likes you.” Betty nudged her again, while Alice agreed from the other side, both girls were getting far too much enjoyment out of a simple nice gesture, she was sure of it.

A glance back showed that he had turned his attention to another customer and was no longer looking in her direction, but she could still feel him anyway. “What makes you think that?” She asked almost absently. Of the odd feelings she got almost constantly, most were not pleasant. This was something entirely different than she had ever experienced before.

“Just a feeling.” Betty grinned, shifting to take her hand instead of her arm as she pulled her toward the doors to find their seats. “Just a feeling.” When they were seated and waiting for the movie to start, Lorraine expected the gossip to start up again or for Betty to show off her shoes just one more time. What she got was not what she had thought. “You know.” Betty leaned forward so that she could see both of her friends. “Some things are just meant to be.”
Ed Warren
*****Second connection box (right side) starts here.*****

Lorraine knew that Judy had no real idea what it was that she and her husband did for a living. That was a deliberate choice on their behalf. The child was too young to fully understand and there was no reason to terrify her needlessly. But, there was every reason to urge caution when it came to their collections room and the items locked inside. They were dangerous, especially to an innocent child such as Judy. She should have known that forbidding the child to enter, to touch any of the things inside, was the one surefire way to ensure she would do just the opposite…

The room itself was a source of debate between Ed and the church. Many clergy members thought it unwise to have such a large amount of cursed and haunted objects all gathered in one place. That was only asking for some kind of trouble. Even if it was blessed regularly and they took every possible precaution with keeping the room as safe as it could be. Even as he began to find their daughter in the room more and more often, her curiosity getting the better of her, Ed still didn’t change his mind. He preferred to have the items under his own watchful eye, rather than locked up in some vault or similar place where there was the chance of someone stumbling on them and releasing the entities he and Lorraine had labored so hard to trap.

Lorraine herself didn’t care for the room. The combined energies were often overwhelming and she preferred to avoid it when she could. Of course there was no true avoidance when it was part of their home. It was always in the back of her mind. A weight she just couldn’t quite shake. She had just learned how to tolerate and live with it. Though she never quite got fully used to it. Sometimes it repelled her, making her feel almost physically ill if she let herself focus on it for any amount of time. Other times it tried to draw her in and those times were harder to fight.

Judy’s curiosity about the room, about one item in particular, was a source of constant fear for her. She knew what those things were capable of and the idea of anything latching onto her daughter was terrifying. That was why, even when Ed had hesitantly suggested they start allowing Judy to enter the room when he was there with her to make sure she didn’t touch anything, she had vehemently refused. He wanted Judy to start seeing what they did, to know that she didn’t have to fear the paranormal. That she had to be careful, but that the things beyond the ordinary weren’t always bad and sometimes good could come of the things that ‘normal’ people just didn’t understand.

Even that had not shifted Lorraine’s thinking and it was one of the rare points of contention between them. They didn’t often argue, and when they did, it was usually about the safety of one or the other and ended with them working together to conquer whatever it was that they were facing. This was different. This they did not agree on.

“Do you want her to grow up terrified like we did? Like you did? Trying to deny the existence of the things we both know are out there?”

The words slung at her had hit their mark, making her wince with guilt and a fear she just couldn’t shake. Of course she didn’t want her daughter to feel the way she had growing up. These things were real and she wanted Judy to know nothing but that truth. But, she also didn’t want her daughter to experience the things she had, the things she still did on a daily basis. She didn’t want her first glimpses of those other things to be dark ones that could bring her harm or worse. But, how long could she truly keep those things from her?

It was something she never wanted to find out.

Judy Warren
Television
ARKHAM ASYLUM:

The Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane wasn’t a place that Lorraine thought she would ever find herself. At least not on this side of the desk. There were plenty of times in her life that she was terrified she would end up in an asylum. There were times when she was younger that she thought that might be the best place for her because normal people couldn’t do the things she could do. They couldn’t see and feel the things she could. She just wanted the things that hunted and haunted her to go away. For a time she had convinced herself that she could make that happen.

After a week-long retreat denying any kind of socialization – only allowing for prayer and contemplation – when she was twelve, she came to the revelation that maybe the Sister had been right and she was just being ‘fanciful.’ Though that was a word she came to hate later because it was what had started all of her self-doubts and the attempts to suppress the things that made her different. An attempt that only made things worse instead of better because those gifts only grew stronger as time went by and not knowing how to control or use them allowed her to become more vulnerable than she already had been. Things were drawn to those like her. Dark things.

It was more than likely that if she hadn’t met her husband and soulmate when she did, at the tender age of sixteen, that she would have ended up in some place like this or worse. While the idea of being locked up somewhere, of being crazy enough to be placed there, was terrifying, the things that could happen should those dark things latch on were even worse to imagine. And she didn’t have to try very hard because she saw it all the time. She dealt with it all the time, attempting to help those who needed it. Because she had these…’gifts’ for a reason, right?

There would always be those who wouldn’t or couldn’t believe in anything outside of the ordinary. Those skeptics who mocked and jeered and did everything in their power to discredit that which they didn’t understand. She knew that well, too. Had experienced it first-hand. It wasn’t easy to have your name constantly drug through the dirt as you were accused of being a fake and a fraud because your claims were things that ‘normal’ people didn’t experience and therefore couldn’t accept were anything but fake.

Sometimes finding even one person who believed you was enough to change your entire world.

She had found her person and it really had changed her entire existence. She truly thought that having someone to listen, to understand, to believe was one of the most sought after, the most important things a person could need. That was why she tried to be that for others. She had been in their place. Maybe not exactly, but similarly enough to know how much it could mean. That was part of why she was here.

Officially she was there to interview one of the patients here about his ‘crazy’ story of demons and possession and death. A lot of death. That was ultimately why he was here. He was crazy and he had killed people. The reasons given only cemented the first and there was no way to recant even if he had wanted to, at this point. But, that wasn’t what she wanted to hear anyway. She wanted to hear the truth. Even if no one else did. Something that she couldn’t outright identify had drawn her here, to him, and she couldn’t leave without at least trying.

Things happened for a reason. People were brought together for a reason. Even if she didn’t always know what that reason was.

“Name.” The woman at the desk didn’t even look up, concentrating on the book on the desk in front of her. She looked somewhat haggard, unhappy, uninterested. Not someone you would want working somewhere that supposedly took care of people with mental illnesses, no matter what those illnesses had made them do.

Lorraine frowned a little and shifted her weight slightly. This place was…not good. Maybe it was the people in it, maybe it was the people running it, maybe it was something else entirely. She wasn’t sure, but she did know that it made her slightly antsy, uncomfortable. She did not like it here. Still…

“Lorraine Warren.” She watched the woman flip her book over and pull another one in front of her. Opening this one, she ran her finger down a list of what looked like names in an appointment book. “I’m here to speak to Mr. Williams.” She added helpfully as the woman continued to look for what she presumed was her name and the appointment she had set up before arriving.

“Oh, right, right.” The woman murmured, finally raising her head. She looked Lorraine up and down and arched an eyebrow. “You sure you wanna do that? Seems someone like you would want to stay as far away from someone like that as possible.” There was a slight smirk on her lips that Lorraine couldn’t quite read.

“Someone like me?” She questioned in return, not exactly sure what the woman was referring to. But, the way she looked at her said that someone as put together as she appeared to be had no place being somewhere like this. Let alone sitting down to speak to a crazy mass murderer about something that couldn’t possibly be true.

The woman only grinned a little more, though it wasn’t really a nice expression, as she gestured to Lorraine. “Yeah. All fancy and good and pure and innocent.” There was a mockery in her tone that Lorraine didn’t like. An inference that someone like her couldn’t handle a place like this or any of the people in it. “This ain’t the kind of place for people like you.”

Lorraine pursed her lips for a moment, but then merely offered a polite smile. “It’s a good thing I’m just visiting then, isn’t it?” She asked. “May I go in?” She gestured to the doors slightly off to the side, to all appearances perfectly fine with the discussion and the inferences. She wasn’t here to prove herself to anyone, not really. She had one purpose and it wasn’t to prove to this woman that things were seldom as they appeared.

The woman studied her for another moment and then shrugged. Pulling out a visitor’s pass, she handed it over. “Sure. It’s your funeral.” She murmured. “After I buzz you through, go to the first door on the left. Someone’ll be waiting to let you in.” She directed coldly. Not waiting to see if Lorraine agreed or not, she pressed a button and with the expected buzzing sound the double doors unlocked, waiting for her to pull them open.

“Thank you.” Lorraine still managed to be polite herself as she pinned the badge to her shirt and moved toward the doors. Grasping the handle of one, she pulled and stepped through into a long and empty hallway. There were several doors on each side and the hall itself forked a little further down, but her instructions were to go to the first door on the left and so that was where she headed.

As she had been told, there was a man in a stark white uniform waiting beside the door. He, too, looked her up and down before speaking. Though his expression was much less revealing than the woman at the front desk had been. “Mrs. Warren?” He questioned roughly and simply. Upon her nod, he turned toward the door with the key to let her in. “I assume you’ve been briefed on the dangers of this particular patient and the safety measures we have put in place for this visit?” He looked to her for her confirmation before he turned the key and pushed the door open for her. “Yes, I have. Thank you.” Her own tone was more formal than she usually used, but that seemed fitting for the situation. She offered another nod as she stepped through the door, glancing around as she did so.

The room was more dimly lit than the lobby or even the hallway she had come down to get here. Something she wasn’t necessarily happy with, but wouldn’t try to argue. She could see well enough, but it certainly helped to drop the mood and enhance the bad feelings she’d had since entering the building. As her gaze travelled the room, it first landed on the men standing behind the table with revolvers at the ready and expressions that said they were just waiting for any excuse to use them. She liked that even less than the lighting, or lack thereof.

Then her eyes turned toward the table and the reason she was here. He certainly looked mad, though which definition of the word, if not both, actually fit remained to be seen. He also looked like he wasn’t getting the best of care here. But, that wasn’t so surprising considering what he was there for. No matter how well run and well they claimed to take care of people things weren’t always as they seemed. And who wanted to be kind to a murderer? A crazy one at that.

That didn’t make it right. In fact it made her angry to see signs of such a thing. But, she kept that internalized for now. It wouldn’t do her any good to voice such things and might in fact get her thrown out before she could do what she came for.

So, she let her gaze fall on Ash for a moment before she approached the table and pulled out a chair opposite him. Something said she didn’t have to be afraid of him. If anything, she felt warier of those around them than she did of the prisoner before her. “Hello, Mr. Williams. My name is Lorraine Warren.” Introductions first, of course. As if he would really care who she was. “I would like to hear your story. If you’re willing to tell me.” She wasn’t entirely certain he was, but she also wasn’t going to try to force him.

Her expression was understanding and hopeful and expectant, but somehow not soft at all. She had seen things that most wouldn’t believe possible. But, somehow she knew that he had as well. Like recognized like and maybe neither were crazy at all. “I’ve been through some…unbelievable things as well. And if you’d like to play story for story, I’m willing.” She figured it couldn’t hurt to offer something in return for his cooperation. People seldom wanted to do anything without receiving something in return and now that the offer was on the table, so to speak, she waited to see what he would do with it.
Books
GREENDALE:

“We would like for you to come and investigate a haunted house here in our lovely town of Greendale. If you would be willing to take the case.”

Not an unusual request at all. Everyone who asked for her – for their – help thought they were being haunted by something. Whether they actually were or not was another story and that was what she was supposed to find out. Lorraine always hoped for the latter, that there was a perfectly rational explanation for the thought to be paranormal occurrences, but that certainly wasn’t always the case. Sometimes it was legitimate and sometimes it was terrifying and sometimes they were the only ones who could or would help because there were always the skeptics who knew nothing about the ‘strange’ things that existed in the very same world they did. On a different plane, maybe, but there nonetheless.

She never refused these requests for help, even when she probably should. Sometimes her husband, Ed,  tried to because he worried about her ever so much. Each case helped people, yes, but it took something out of her, some piece of her, and he wondered just how much she could give before he lost her completely. She knew this. Yet, she always soldiered on because if she could help someone, then she had to. It was as simple as that to her. There was a reason she had these gifts and there was a reason the two of them had been brought together. It was something he always said and something she often quoted back to him. Something neither could really argue.

Investigating these things alone was something else they never did. Ed had tried once and she had refused to let him. He said he didn’t want to lose her and she promised he wouldn’t, snapping the same words back at him. They worked together. They were stronger as a team. They could protect each other, ground each other. They were two halves of one whole and they belonged together. On everything.

Until now.

Ed was away on a school trip with their daughter, Judy, when the call came asking her to investigate in the ‘lovely town of Greendale.’ She probably should have turned it down or at least waited until he returned to accept. She knew that was what he would want her to do when she called to tell him about it. But, she also knew that waiting usually wasn’t the best idea in these cases. It was best to check them out and deal with them if necessary as soon as possible. It was best to handle them before they got more serious, before they became something tragic or worse. She knew she was going to go before she even said the words.

“I’ll take the case.”

A few details were given about the occurrences themselves that were happening in this haunted house, but who or what was suspected to occupy the place was left conspicuously out of the conversation. Almost skirted around and shifted to something else every time she started to turn things in that direction. If they knew the cause, or thought they did, they weren’t telling her. They certainly weren’t telling her everything either way. Finally she made the demand that they be more forthcoming if they really wanted her to come. She had accepted already, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t change her mind if she thought they were setting her up or planning to send her into whatever this was unprepared.

Finally it was admitted that they weren’t sure, only that strange things had been happening, but that the town had a unique history of its own. A history that many wouldn’t believe if they knew it because, like everything else that was unseen, it was just too different to be true.

“Witches.”

Her tone wasn’t really judgmental or disbelieving at all. Every town had its legends. Apparently Greendale’s was witches. But, even with that, not much information was given. Supposedly there were some witches, or suspected witches, there in the past that were hung and died there. It was a lackluster story that they didn’t put much emphasis on, more concerned with the ghost or ghosts in the specific house in question. There didn’t seem to be any connection – at least to them – to the town legends and so they concentrated on the present rather than the past, relieved when she still agreed to come.

She was thoughtful as she finally hung up the phone and then picked it back up to dial another number. She was looking forward to the coming conversation even less than the last one because she already knew how it was going to go and it hurt her heart to know that she was going to upset the one person she was closest to in the world because she wasn’t going to do what he asked. She was going to do the opposite.

Waiting for someone to pick up on the other end, she greeted the hotel clerk in a friendly manner before asking for the memorized room number and listening to the click of being transferred and more ringing before it was picked up once more.

“Ed?” It was a relief to hear his voice, even with what she was going to tell him. She hated being away from him for whatever reason and even this brief and distant connection was a weight off her shoulders. “I just had an interesting conversation…”

---

Greendale. The town that always felt like Halloween. The sentiment not an incorrect one. As she crossed the border into the town, Lorraine could feel that the place was…different. There was a heaviness in the air that she couldn’t immediately identify and for a brief instant, she wondered if this was a mistake and she shouldn’t have waited as Ed had requested. But, she was here and so she would follow through. Whatever that entailed.

A quick stop for directions and a key to her destination and she was on her way again. It didn’t take long to find the house in question. It was small and modest and yet still very attractive and well cared for. It was also currently empty, the family who owned it having gone to stay with friends until the weird things were taken care of or they decided what they were going to do as a permanent solution to their problems.

Letting herself into the house, she glanced around. It was immediately obvious that there was indeed something there, but it was a feeling, not a visual that she initially got. Whatever it was was angry for whatever reason. That rage almost seemed to lash out on its own as soon as she stepped through the door. She didn’t need to be in a trance or to even really look for it, it was just there. It gave her pause and the repeated thought that maybe she shouldn’t have accepted this case on her own.

A deep breath and a moment to orient herself so that the rage didn’t overwhelm her and she was moving again, walking the house as she liked to do upon first arrival. To try to figure out where the entity or entities were, to find anything about the place itself that might be out of the ordinary, to acquaint herself with everything. To see if there was anything that whatever was here might want to make known. Sometimes a simple walkthrough could reveal much more than people might want to believe.

Despite knowing that she wasn’t alone, there were no spectral or ghostly visions of the spirit that was there with her. Instead the lights began to flicker and a cold draft blew through the house despite the windows being closed. Small items were lifted and thrown across the room while the sound of running feet pounded through the house. Things meant to frighten for sure, but she refused to let this thing drive her out with such dramatic displays and when she did eventually leave the house for the time being, it was of her own accord, not because the thing had scared her into abandoning her goal there.

She needed to know more about the house, the land. If there had been any deaths on the property, or traumas, or both. She needed to dig into the history a little and while the best place to do so would logically be the town library or the town historian, she found her feet taking her in another direction entirely. While the library would be the likely place to look into the history, another place could give her information on any possible deaths associated with the house or even the people who owned it.

Pausing to glance at the sign, she hesitated to make her way closer. If the town felt heavy, this place was worse. Darker in a lot of ways that she wasn’t sure she wanted to figure out. It wasn’t just the fact that it was a place for the dead, something that would make most people uneasy on its own. There was something more, much more. Something that made her wrap her arms around herself in an attempt at comfort and courage gathering as she sent one more glance at the sign that shouldn’t have brought anything other than a confirmation that she might get some of the information she sought from those inside.

SPELLMAN MORTUARY.

A simple sign, simple words that shouldn’t have meant anything other than what they said. A place that sent a shiver down her spine as she finally squared her shoulders and began her approach. A place that made her wonder just what it really was and what kind of people might be in charge of it. What kind of people could live and work here. Even without the…gifts she possessed, she couldn’t imagine that anyone would be unable to feel this place and want to escape it as soon as possible. Yet, clearly someone resided here. She could see them on a chair on the porch, though they were hard to make out until she got a little closer.

It was a woman. A woman who offered her a mere disinterested glance as she approached. There wasn’t much curiosity in that glance. If anything there was a slight disdain. Though they had never met before, it was a feeling she could understand, because something about this woman rubbed her the wrong way, too. “Hello.” She managed a friendly greeting despite the confusing and contradicting emotions she felt. There was no reason to not like this woman, but her instincts didn’t uselessly warn her either.  Vague feelings with no immediately discernable cause left her with no choice but to fall back on her normal politeness. She was in town to help after all. She couldn’t do that if she was turned away before she even got a start.

Stopping at the foot of the stairs, looking up because she hadn’t been invited closer, she offered what she could conjure up of a smile. “My name is Lorraine and I’d like to ask you a couple questions if that’s okay?” It came out as more of a question than a statement, but she went with it anyway, waiting for what she hoped was an answer in the affirmative.
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     Clairvoyant Protector's Details
Body type:Slim / Slender
Ethnicity:No Answer
Height:0"0'
Characters: Lorraine Warren
Verses: The Conjuring, Annabelle, Witchcraft, Real Life, Paranormal, Supernatural, Horror, Crossovers, AU
Playbys: Vera Farmiga (Adult), Taissa Farmiga (Teen), Oona Laurence (Pre-Teen), Madeleine McGraw (Child)
Length: Multi Para, Novella, Para
Genre: Crossover, Drama, Horror, Open, Psychological, Supernatural,
Member Since:August 08, 2018




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Demonologist




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ɴéᴄʀᴏ-sᴏʀᴄɪèʀᴇ.

Jan 22nd 2019 21:44


“Where did Baby go? I need her to chop these onions for me.. Gerry!?”  Quetta had her hands on her hips eying down her elder sister. The two had been busy helping their mother run the food stall for the festival. They had a great cash flow coming in but as the night grew on, more people lined up looking for a bite to eat. Many of which were intoxicated by drug,drink,or the spell New Orleans tended to put folks under.  She had just realized her daughter was still gone after some twenty-five minutes or so. She was uncertain. The dispute between her and Geraldine began the day she announced she was pregnant with Emilia--since then the two fought over everything. The whole family knew it’d been spite for her jealousy. Geraldine was unable to conceive, but unbeknownst to her, Quetta chose not to have anymore children to spare her. After losing Emilia’s father in the hurricane, she came to resent Geraldine for never having another child with the man she later lost. Most of the time their quarreling was kept at bay in front of their mother;until the topic averted to Emila Marie.

“I don’t know where YOUR child done ran off to Quetta. That’s on you.” Gerry, the darker toned sister rolled her eyes and began stirring a pot of gumbo bubbling on the portable stove.

Quetta was lightly toned like their mother and her daughter. The shades of their skin had caused some jealousy as well, but Gerry would announce her much thinner figure for never having children in retort. “I was just askin.’ Why do you have to be so hateful!?”

“Shut up now. I don’t wanna hear that mess. Child went to get’ha a poe boy. Now hush.”  Gigi had had enough of them passing jabs at one another behind her back as though she did not know her own daughters any better. “Now get on that food.” The woman gave a wrinkled smile counting the cash they made, and placed it all into a silver lock box. She locked it and then slipped the key into her bosom as was her ritual.

Her response had not sat well with Gerry who’d stop stirring the pot.  “We got all this food...and she gotta go waste money on a sandwich?!!”

“Maybe she’s tried of Gigi’s cooking for a while.” Quetta hissed back.

“Who gets tired of Gigi’s cooking Quetta? You're just making excuses for her..when she done ran off..Just like when she got that’dere damn thing in her nose!”

“Enough! Now I said I don't wanna hear this mess! Leave that child alone. I’ll cut the onions.” Gigi lifted slowly from her seat, taking care not to rush her fragile bones, but spent the vigor snatching the sack of onions from Quetta’s hand. “I don’t wanna hear another word from you! Or you! Too grown for that mess..”
-----
A massive tremor sent through the ground caused everyone to pause. They looked up to see those waiting for their orders had stopped to look in the same direction. Some began to point--and soon enough a wave of screams quaked throughout the flock of people running in panic. Quetta felt her heart break and her bones turn to ice with fear--but for fear that her child may have been harmed during whatever was transpiring.  She cautiously walked against the stream of people, some still drunk on the night, not realizing the tremors, and others fleeing. When she rounded the food stalls and stepped onto the sidewalk, she saw the lightening and the sky itself parting in the distance. Instantly sickness sunk, coiling in the pit of her gut as she knew exactly what was happening before laying eyes on the figure limping around. At first it appeared to be a man with ragged clothing and a busted knee, but once he turned to observe a screaming woman, Quetta saw that his jaw was missing. She rubbed both hands over her face with dread--the chill brought forth by the undead crawling down her spine. “My baby!” She took off running toward where the was sky parting--and during her approached nearer to the location,she realized Emilia had to be in the closest cemetery. Her heavy breasts flounced, causing her to anchor them with an arm as she ran--heaving--watching the span of an aurora appear in an array of color betwixt lightening bolts. She stopped in her tracks opting to instead drive her car to the cemetery to stop Emilia.

 Quetta turned back and reached her car in the paid parking lot; then tore out breaking a chain gate along the way. Sweat poured down her face; and her breathing took a heavier pant the closer she got to the location--feeling the pressure in the air reach an astounding level. She could hardly breath. She could hardly bare the sinister cold and seeing what her daughter had done to the sky. It’d happened before but never to that magnitude. As she always would, Quetta began thinking of reasons that prompted Emilia to lose control like that. She had been a good little girl and a dutiful teenage she hardly ever had to worry about. She also kept her promise never to act out, displaying her force ever again. People were already talking about that Laveau child, that cursed child--but Emilia had pushed far beyond any rumors she could mend. With her mind in a frenzy she smacked her front bumper into fire hydrant. “Sh*t sh*t sh*t!!!” Quetta expelled herself from the car,leaving as it were to push herself through the cemetery gates. She saw her child with arms spread wide,and head turned toward the heavens--the awoken dead strolling aimlessly around the graves and scatter across the landscape. The mortifying sight was enough to make any mother fear her own child, but Quetta Laveau cared for her safety above anything else.
~~~~
~~~~

The howling wind shook the trees on the outskirts of the cemetery; making the sound of applauding millions perched high; and praising the teenage witch below. At least it sounded closer to that effect in Emilia’s ears. In her state all had been broken down into particles like before; nothing had a solid appearance as she observed the world from higher plane while physically standing in the lowest vibrations. The three dimensional existence the average person saw day to day. Night was not night but a kaleidoscope of brilliant, lively energies swarming  and vibrating against one another--atoms as science may name it. She spun around gaily beneath the parting navy canvas; pushed wide by the spectrum of colors and lightening. The sky looked to be just within her reach as she lifted her hands,raking at the atmosphere. Her gleeful smile vanished when she felt a familiar presence closing in, one and then another. Her spectral gaze shot toward her mother, jetting through the gates, waving her arms and shouting. “STOP BABY STOP!!”

The sight of her mother had not been what deterred her from further actions, no, it’d been the second set of vibrations from behind her--until alas-- touch. Emilia spun around to see the woman of blinding white light standing before her just like in her visions. Quetta on the other hand noticed a Caucasian woman reaching out for Emilia, and immediately assumed the worst. That perhaps Emilia had caused trouble with her. Or worst than that, what if she was an officer of the law?  Her pulse hammered wildly approaching the teen now standing still, staring the stranger in the face in a way she could not read in the dark. Her hair became still--all the dead dropped where they stood--and the aurora and lightening vanished from sight simultaneously . The luminosity in Emilia’s eye shut off like the flick of a switch--and a trickle of blood came from her nose. She lifted a hand to wipe the blood unable to form another thought--when her head snapped back and she fell to the ground. Her final sight had been the the stranger in solid form--blonde hair and a terrified expression etched into her features.
-----
Quetta tossed her upon her knees next to Emilia; scooping her head into her lap, seeking a pulse. The girl was perfectly fine after all that and presumably was just sleeping. Her head shot up, looking to the woman who’d reach out to Emilia. “Whatever she did..I am so sorry.” The woman brought up her hands and closed them to her chest sobbing. “She don’t mean what she do. Whatever it is...I’ll pay for it..I just ask that you don’t tell nobody.” Quetta’s eyes plead with the woman in hopes she might spare them the embarrassment of divulging anything she saw. The lights of a car made the woman nearly jump clean out of her skin.

“QUETTA!!! Baby!!?” The voice of her sister Gerry hardly soothed her, but it had not been anyone else. She could see her sister’s figure appear far from them,looking back toward someone ,and then in their direction once more. “Gigi get back in the car!! Get back-!!”

“ I told you hush talkin’ to me.” The woman started making her way toward the trio in the cemetery. “Where’s my grand baby?!” The elderly woman called out,ignoring Gerry's protests. Gigi always was a bold woman who done just what she wanted to. “Gerry go on now!!” She barked swatting away her hand. “Why she one the ground?!”----

Quetta released a sigh of relieved though she would be more relieved to get Emilia home and away from any prying eyes. Their fortune had been this occurrence taking place during the festival because no one had proof to blame her child.--no one other than the woman. She wiped her tears and sweat away sniffling when Gigi finally made her way over.

“Why you sitting there for Quetta? Get the gal off the ground.” She looked at the stranger softening her scolding gaze. Quetta knew that look Gigi was giving--the woman being so extremely intuitive. The creases around her eyes eased; and after a moment of silence she tossed a hand toward Emilia--still looking at the woman. “Go on now. Help her up off the ground. Cant’t be standing around out here with bodies walking...folks talking...go on now.” Quetta remained reluctant to move a muscle. She looked up at the woman with still a heaving pant. “QUET-TA ANN!!” Gigi snapped her awake from her stare.  “Hurry up. My back hurts..” She grumbled to herself making her way back toward the street. Genny had just arrived to where they stood and received a slap across her arm from Gigi. “What took you so long? Skinny as hell but slow... I’m old and I move faster than you--” She went on toward the cars left running with their headlight on--talking to herself out loud the whole way.


вrιgнт lιgнт.

Jan 22nd 2019 16:27


Hello there.
It's Bonnie Bennett.
I just want to say that I can't wait to start writing with you.
I would love a storyline with you whenever you are ready.
I hope to hear back from you soon.:D
If you would rather discuss on Line instead of here, my Line screen name is itsnoellebitxh.
Demonologist

Jan 20th 2019 16:45


1936

Bridgeport, Connecticut was a wonderful city to raise a family in. Though it had been hit hard by the Great Depression, life was slowly being rebuilt in the seaport city. The Warren family had managed to get though the hard times well, with the father of the household, William Warren, working as a police officer. With times as hard as they were for everyone else, he had put in the hours and hard graft and had succeeded in earning enough to purchase a home for his growing family. He had therefore moved his wife and two sons from the small apartment they had lived in to a three bedroom house away from the busy town centre.

It should have been the perfect move, and in many ways it was. Ed, aged five, and his younger brother Harry were now close to good schools and had a yard and safe streets on which to play. But every night, Ed would be woken by frightening noises and movements. The sound of his wardrobe door creaking open every night, then other noises. Sounds he could not altogether explain.

“There's a logical explanation, there's a logical explanation...” He chanted in a whisper, his eyes fixed on  the ceiling above his head. His father had drilled this into him ever since they had moved into the house when Ed was 5 years old. From the very first night, when Ed had gone running into his parents room and insisted that there was something in his wardrobe. His mother had tried to make a home out of it, telling him monsters only hurt the bad children. But when he had continued to have the same experiences, his father had bestowed his more sombre advice.

“Edward, come here and look.” His father had always been the only one to call him Edward. A police officer, he was straight and by-the-book, and had always been uncomfortable with his son's imaginings. He pushed the clothes aside to reveal the back of the wardrobe, then looked down at his son. “You see? Nothing there.” He then crouched down so that their eyes were on the same level. “There's a logical explanation for everything you see or feel, Edward. No monsters, no ghosts, nothing to be scared of. There's always a logical, natural explanation.” Every time Ed had mentioned the noises, his father would repeat this mantra.

Ed had tried to remember that for the last 2 years, whenever he heard the creak of the door opening and felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. But there were things his father could not explain away. Such as the unnatural chill in the air causing his breath to appear as fog before him on a sultry June night, or the feeling that descended in these moments. It was a feeling of dread, though of course Ed did not know the word at that time. It felt... bad, wrong. Above all, it felt real. That was something Ed could swear to.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, willing himself to have courage. Then he sat up in bed, pulling the covers a little higher so that they were close to his chin, his eyes on his wardrobe. As he had anticipated, the doors were almost fully open, with a deeper darkness inside. He squinted into the darkness, sure, as he always was, that there was something just out of sight in the darkness. It had been the same almost every night.

But tonight, something different occurred. For when he squinted into the darkness of the wardrobe, he saw something. A fleeting glimpse, but one he saw clearly and would never forget. The face of an elderly woman, her gaze malevolent, her teeth bared, watching him from behind his clothes. One moment she was there, the next vanished. Within a minute, Ed was in his parents room, knowing he would not be able to sleep. Even then he had known that his parents would not understand. Being different was too much for them.

-0-

1943


“Ed, you’ve barely been home an hour, you can't be going out again.” Eleanor Warren's voice was both chastising and faintly amused as she spotted her older son putting on his jacket in the hallway of their home.

“I did tell you I was out tonight, Mom." Ed pointed out with a slight smile as he came into the kitchen to say goodbye to her. “I'll be home late, I’m eating with Lorraine tonight. Dinner and then dancing.”

“Well, make sure you don’t wear yourself out!” Eleanor called after him as Ed headed out of the door. She sounded worried, but Ed knew she understood. World War Two was upon them, and the United States were getting involved with the assault. Soon enough, Ed would be 17 and old enough to be required to enlist and go to fight. It was important to live every day as though it was the last. And he intended to spend as much time as he could with Lorraine Moran in the meantime.

At the age of 16, Ed had taken on a job at the Polis Majestic theatre as an usher. He had seen Lorraine coming to the cinema with her friends and her mother over the past few months, though they had rarely spoken until he had worked up the courage to tell her no charge for some movie tickets. Over the next several weeks they had gradually spoken more and more, until one night he had offered to walk her home after his shift had been over. During that walk, he had asked her out on a date and she had accepted him.

He had always known that she was a little different from her friends. There were times when she would go quiet or stare off into space, which her friends seemed to think were daydreams. Ed was not completely certain what it was that Lorraine was experiencing in those moments, but he knew it was not mere daydreams. There was too much concentration when these moments happened, the occasional change of expression that flitted across her face. She would play it off and act as though nothing had changed...  but there was certainly something. He had noticed it during a couple of their dates as well, though he had not yet passed comment.

He quickly checked the collar of his shirt to ensure it was straight, before pressing the doorbell and hearing a bell ring within the depths of the house. He stepped back and saw movement behind the lace curtains on the windows. Smiling slightly to himself, he straightened his back without thinking about it as the door opened. Her father, has he had expected. God, he hoped his voice wouldn’t shake. “Good evening, Sir. I’m here to pick up Lorraine.”

Lorraine's father glanced him over and Ed could almost feel the dislike and suspicion emanating from him. He was protective over his daughter, as any man would be in such a situation. Then he turned and called up the stairs. “Lori! Your date is here.” He turned and gave Ed a rather severe look, one that Ed recognised from when his father was trying to find out the truth of a situation. It was rather like being x-rayed. “I want her home by 11 sharp.” He cautioned, and Ed nodded quickly. “I promise she'll be home by then, Sir.

Hearing footsteps on the stairs, Ed glanced over the man's shoulder and smiled when he saw Lorraine standing there. She looked beautiful. A few steps above her he saw a couple of her sisters. “Evening. Ready to go?” He asked her.

here to win, bítch.

Jan 19th 2019 12:51


- tries to obliterate your sucky morning at work -



Lab-Rat.

Jan 14th 2019 17:13


Even though it appeared that Ariana was happy all the time. There was a time where she was sad for a brief period. When her now ex wanted a divorce she gave it to him. She no longer wore a ring on her finger. But she was able to find herself and her happiness again.


She brightly smiled when hearing Lorraine agreeing with her. That was good to look at things as ‘always something new to discover.’ Thinking thoughtfully as she heard the question before answering. “Yes all towns are different even the small ones.”


She nodded with a grin. “Yes, I something much different.” Though she was human yes but she was an enhanced super soldier with abilities and powers, that would scare most people. Although some have accepted her the way she is. 


Ariana has hopes that Lorraine wouldn’t be scared of what she was. She liked Lorraine and would like to keep her as a friend that she can trust. 


“I’ll show you after we are done here somewhere private. I don’t want attract attention.” She replied in a soft tone. 


She took another sip of her drink it was delightful. She loved trying new things for her it was the first since she was still new to the world.  She listened as Lorraine described her friends to her. “They sound like lovely people even though as you say one has kind of a loud mouth.” She’s heard that word used before her brother Steve would tell her that Tony Stark had a big mouth sometimes.


After they had finished their sodas, once Lorraine had gotten off her stool, Ariana did the same. “Do you know somewhere we can go? There’s a couple things I can show you.”  She replied following Lorraine to the diner door. She was happy that her new friend seemed really interested in knowing what she could do. She just hoped that after she showed Lorraine what she was they could still be friends. 

𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻.

Jan 13th 2019 19:52


It had never been a surprise that Judy Warren had been drawn to the Annabelle doll since she had been born. It had started with sneaking and holding onto it, to her father's dismay, and it ended with the doll being trapped within the glass and the room being shut off to the world due to Judy being haunted by it's presence. The brunette child had never been oblivious to what the doll could do or what it had caused - after all she was a Warren, but she couldn't help but wonder about it and want to be around it even more.

Normally Judy waited until her parents were out of town to sneak down to the room where they held the doll, her grandmother not knowing to stop her curious grandmother. The Warren parents and even her grandmother, had probably thought her curiosity would stop when she had hit double digits, but it didn't. It had simply become even more of an issue, something that nobody could stop. With her curiosity, she was truly her parents' child - They had always taught her to stay away from the doll, telling her that it was a horrible entity - However, Judy's curiosity gene prevailed.

Snapping into reality, the brunette child of Ed and Lorraine Warren found herself in the room with the doll once again. Even though most people had always thought the doll was ugly and damaged, Judy found it beautiful and fascinating. Twelve years old, she knew that she should know better, but she couldn't stop herself. Her fingers reached for the glass, opening it slowly and grabbing the doll. She hugged it to her chest, her blueish hues looking at it as a smile curved across her features. She knew what she was doing was going to get into trouble, so much trouble, but she simply couldn't stop.

~~~

Realizing that she had left the doll unattended and forgotten to lock it back in the case, Judy shot up in the middle of the night, blue eyes trying to adjust to the light of her clock beside her bed. 2am -  The brunette never work up that early in the morning but something had told her to and now she knew why. She climbed out of her bed and tip-toed through the house, her brunette hair in her face as she made her way down to the room where her father kept everything. Entering the room, she immediately went to go put the doll away, looking in the spot where she had left it, but Annabelle wasn't there. She wasn't anywhere.

Hearing footsteps, Judt turned around, hair flipping along with her, knowing that she was caught red handed. She knew by the sound of the steps that it was her mother, and she couldn't help but gulp - her blue hues looking at her. "I..." She started, but she already knew that she was in trouble, and she didn't say anything else, knowing that she wouldn't even begin to explain anything because she had done something wrong. "I'm going to go back to bed," She said and made her way across the room, but she knew that she wouldn't get far. 
✗мorтιғeroυѕ

Jan 11th 2019 18:25


So, here it is. That dreaded intro comment, but they have to be done at some point. 

Any who's, thank you for the add. 

I am still in the process of getting Zen settled and sorted, however, I do already have a story for him within the depths of my mind so don't worry on it being another character'less page.

I have managed to get a quick run down typed up and it can be found h e r e

Any questions you may have are more than welcome. 
I look forward to getting a possible storyline worked out. 
𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕖

Jan 10th 2019 22:41


Image result for water for elephants gifs

Marlena was an orphan, passed around from home to home. Marlena was never particularly attached to one place. Then, the circus came to town. She met August Rosenbluth and fell in love with him almost instantly. They married and Marlena has been travelling with the Benzini Brothers Circus ever since. Living… on the road, as part of the Benzini Brothers Circus during the Great Depression era. Times are tough. Many circuses have gone belly up and August will do anything to make sure the Benzini Brothers don’t meet the same fate. According to Marlena, “everybody works until they’re run into the ground. Nobody stops, nobody dies until August says so.” 

She is the Benzini Brothers’ star attraction, trained by August himself. Marlena and her horses can amaze like no other. She mesmerizes audiences with her skill, grace, and professionalism. With the addition of Rosie the elephant, Marlena stands to bring in more money for the circus than any other act has before. married to August Rosenbluth, but their relationship is tainted by his possessive and jealous nature. Marlena loves her husband, so she puts up with the occasional violent spat. Sometimes though, his harshness towards her is just too much to handle, and Marlena wonders if she would be better off without August.  

August is a classic antagonist. He's the straight-up villain .  He's a wife-beater, an animal abuser, and a downright cruel individual.  people try to excuse August's behavior by saying that he's a paranoid schizophrenic. But Marlena  doesn't believe there's excuse for his behavior.One of the things that makes August such a good villain is that he's not bad all the time. He's got a charming side, too, which is one of the reasons he's able to fool people for so long.

Never the less, she puts on a fresh new face every night, the show must go on, was her motto, it was a great time to be in the circus traveling from town to town, meeting new people, audiences loving the show, the smiles, the cheers even the roaring laughter, and in the end at night, it was a sight to see. Tonight was a great night for everyone, they had the profits in for tonights show, and after the last act, people were leaving, some stayed. Marlena was soothing her star attraction horse Silver, he was her absolute favorite. She was smiling telling him what a good boy he was, she turned to take pictures with some f the audiences, she smiled, she shinned. 

In the distance a small child could be heard, the voice was soft and eager, glancing down to the right her eyes bestowed upon a little girl, holding her popcorn, all smiles, her eyes wide from tonights show. Marlena loved to meet the children, she didn't have any fo her own, someday she would she always told herself that. She waved the little girl over. "Hello little one, I'm Marlena, and who might you be?" She smiled as she bent down to her level. "I hope you liked tonights acts, which one was your favorite?" She gleamed.



                                       Image result for water for elephants marlena gifs
ᴍisᴘʟaceᴅ acᴛor

Jan 8th 2019 20:38


Confession Text.


I have a confession to make.
It isn't easy, you know. 
But uh, I was the one who put Jensen's underwear on the flagpole.
Please. Don't tell. 
-winking face- 

ѕιdneypreѕcoтт

Jan 8th 2019 01:10


The brunette had learned about Lorraine Warren through a movie. No other viewer had learned that she was a well known medium in real life, and a part of them wonder if the lady could help her. Of course it wasn't in any supernatural way like the people in th movies. She wasn't possessed, her house wasn't haunted; not by anything that she didn't love at least, the girl was constantly haunted with memories of her friends. No, the female just needed a question answered. 

Her name? Sidney Marie Prescott, and she was well known as the Woodsboro massacure survivor, or Ghost faces number one victim, since it had happened multiple times with people trying to kill her. She felt wrong when she dialed in the number from the website. Stupid. There were plenty of people who needed Mrs. Warren's help more than she, but, Sidney found herself talking to Lorraine's secretary. She was told that she would be called back if Lorraine accepted, and the next four days felt like an eternity. Sidney couldn't help but stare at her phone. When she'd put it down, she'd reach over and glance at it to make sure she didn't miss a phone call, even though she had been sitting next to it and it never rang. Finally the call came, and Sidney found herself both excited and nervous when she was told the Warren's had accepted her invitation. They would discuss payment on arrival. 

The two story house had only one death inside it. Sidney aunt Kate. Her own daughter, Sidney's cousin Jill, had planned it. That was Sidney's f***ed up life. Everyone she loved died. The sad thing was? She was used to it. Sidney had arranged the spare room for the Warren's, making sure they had everything they needed in the bathroom provided for them, along with clean sheets and towels. She wanted everything to be perfect for them. She felt grateful they were coming, and she wanted them to feel at home. When they arrived, Sidney took a deep breath, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then opened the door with a warm smile. "Hi! You must be Ed and Lorraine. I'm Sidney Prescott, you can call me Sid though. Please! Come inside."
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