#oc: wrenne

[sleepyiswhumping]

Wrenne Ran

Content: Accidental Whumper, Blood, Character Death, Vampire Whumper, Violence

Heyo! Worked on this piece for a little bit. It's about a familiar vampire friend who wasn't careful enough while fighting, many centuries ago. If you've read some of my other stuff, you may be able to figure out who Wrenne is now. Hope y'all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Reginald propped himself against a tree, breath coming in ragged, gulping pants. God damn. He had underestimated the damn vampire. That terrible, beautiful bastard. Its hair whipping in the wind, the vampire stood, staring at him, face grimacing. Stooped, the monster’s arms hung limp at its sides as if exhaustion had begun to set in. That made no sense. Vampires didn’t feel exhausted. That’s what he’d been taught, at least. They didn’t feel anything, but hunger and hatred. 

Then why…Why had it hesitated, when he’d slipped, on the cold, wet ground? Why did the vampire let him dart out of reach?

It didn’t matter, he thought, wiping the blood off his face. Steadying himself, he stepped forward, readying his dagger again. 

“Come, beast. Surrender yourself or face your demise.” Putting on a brave face, Reginald warily approached the monster.

The vampire called out to him. “Wrenne.”

Reginald frowned, slowing his advance. He didn’t know what it was playing at, calling for birds.

“If you’re going to kill me…call me by name, mysterious hunter.”

Barking a mirthless laugh, Reginald shook his head.

“Why should a monster as foul as you deserve a name?”

Pulling itself to its full height, the vampire (Wrenne?) slowly advanced toward Reginald. As it cautiously paced toward him, it spoke.

“You don’t believe that. I can see it. Your eyes betray you.”

Reginald scoffed, shaking his head, as they encircled each other. Of course, he believed that, didn’t he? He’d slain many vampires, and they were all the same. Vicious, bloodthirsty, violent creatures that spat and snarled as they fought, then begged for their lives as he plunged the dagger into their hearts. It was all he’d seen.

Until now.

He stumbled and righted himself swiftly. But fast for a human is slow for a vampire. It lunged at him, dashing across the clearing with blinding speed, claws swinging wildly. Reginald swung back, dagger flashing forward. Hissing, the creature leapt back, cradling its left arm at its chest. Reginald grinned, pleasantly surprised he’d managed to avoid injury. Then his arm exploded in pain. It was all he could do to keep himself from screaming, from collapsing. He knew a single lapse in vigilance, a mere second with his guard down, and he’d be dead. He glanced at his arm, at the torn, bleeding flesh.

Continuing their brief conversation, in an attempt to keep the vampire’s, or maybe his own, attention away from his wound, Reginald chuckled, then spoke.

“Why wouldn’t I believe it, after what you just did? All you’re doing is proving that you vampires, you monsters, only want to kill, and deserve nothing but death.”

The creature’s nostrils flared angrily, despite it not needing to breathe.

“You think I…want you dead? If I had wanted to kill you I wouldn’t be talking to you. I’d just kill you. You hunters tend toward the same beliefs. Always with the accusations and the attacks.”

It twitched forward, then stopped.

“Do you know how long I’ve lived? Your religion is…young, compared to me. I have seen hunters come and go.”

Tch. Probably killed them, Reginald thought to himself.

“Those with passion. Those with hate. You are…neither. You–”

Reginald cut it off, snarling.

“I’ve killed my share of vampires, Wrenne. You’ll just be another notch on my blade.”

The vampire stood barely an arm’s breadth away. Wrenne stared at him, its eyes containing no hate, no fear, no malice. Reginald stared back, for the first time. Looking into the creature's eyes, he saw… nothing. No sign of any emotion. No indication the creature could even see. Its eyes were a thick, dull gray. No pupils, no iris. Just a film of cloudy, tired gray. And yet its gaze bored into Reginald’s skull.

“You have spirit. You lack the passion for killing. You lack the hate for vampires. But you have spirit. Furious, impassioned, brightly burning, dangerous spirit. Careful, hunter, that you don’t blind yourself. Now. Leave me.”

Wrenne turned and began to walk away. Mistake.

Reginald surged forward, ignoring the blood running down his cheek and the pain roaring in his right arm, screaming at him, begging him to rest.

Wrenne spun with blazing speed and raked its claws across his chest whilst deftly slipping out of the path of his blade. As Reginald fell forward, past it, Wrenne caught him, holding him up.

“Have we learned our lesson, hunter?”

All Reginald could do was groan. He could barely feel anything, except the searing pain spread across his chest, and the blood pouring down his body.

“Hunter?”

Slumping forward, Reginald collapsed into Wrenne’s arms. He only heard one word, before everything became a blur:

“No.”

-----

Wrenne swiftly pulled the hunter’s tunic up, then cursed softly. He hadn’t been careful. His claws had ripped deep, shredded divots into the hunter’s chest. He tore off his shirt and wrapped it tightly around the hunter’s chest, then, holding him close, Wrenne ran.

The sun would rise soon, but he didn’t care. Wrenne couldn’t let this man die. He raced across the countryside at preternatural speeds, not caring if the farmers who rose early saw him. It was unlikely, but you were never sure. With blazing speed he dashed into the village, cradling the hunter in his arms. He practically flew to the healer’s hut and slammed his fist against the door. He didn’t care who he disturbed, the hunter couldn’t die. He couldn’t. He couldn’t.

The hunter moaned softly, eyelids fluttering. After maybe thirty seconds, but what felt like an eternity, Wrenne growled and ripped the door out of its frame. The village's healer, the old woman froze in fear, staring at the towering, haggard figure coated in blood in her doorway.

“W-what–” Wrenne surged into her hut, placing the man on her mat, and turned to the healer.

“Help him.”

He despised using his vampiric abilities, but time was of the essence. He stared into her eyes, deeply, and, as a deep, bloody red swirled in his murky, gray eyes, he flooded her mind with a deep, desperate desire to help the hunter. Now.

-----

That night, Wrenne buried the man. The only hunter he’d ever met that wasn’t blind, that was fueled by love, compassion and spirit. He gave him a deep grave, safe from prowling animals and crooked thieves. And then, Wrenne ran.

[lichensings]

every late february to early april i get obsessed with the same ocs. i could just feel the switch happen in my brain 🙄happy early birthday to some gay bitches i guess

[someoctober]

doodle

[solemntoad]

Rippin a guy in half yknow

[starlitwishes]

@diverse-hearts-ocs continued from X

If it wasn't for the fact that the person before him answered in such a way, Wrenn would assume his mind really was playing tricks on him.

They looked like Niwa. They sounded like Niwa--albeit his tone dark and cold, lifeless. If Wrenn tried hard enough, he could hear Niwa on distant days on the shore, quiet and contemplative.

If he had half a mind, he would run away. This person--Niwa or not--was coated in blood. And Wrenn didn't need to know much else. That was enough to know that this man meant trouble.

Yet his heart ached, upon remembering Niwa's fate. His true fate--and how his kindness for a pathetic puppet like him ended up bringing about his end.

If there was the smallest chance that this was Niwa... he needed to apologize for the ruin he brought about the miners with his existence.

"... Why do you know that name?" Wrenn asked, cautiously. "If you do not recognize me, then you are not who I think you are. So who are you?"

[itsrainingaestheticboards]

Wrenn Lovett - dnd moodboard

An arcane trickster rogue who means well but man does she mess things up sometimes. Keep an eye on your trinkets.

[maladaptvs-irl]

With

she sends out a spark. A misty glimmer, trailing tendrils of light as it shoots towards Luna. It circles, coming to life around her. A spectral wolf takes form, laying at her feet. A projection of Wrenn. A protector.

[alleywerewolfos]

i hate seeing funny posts that are like "oh that sounds like an oc i have" but the oc in question still has no name, no design and is just a brain concept that i dont even know if ill actually keep at this rate :pensive:

[welcometoaeth]

I’ve noticed I’ve made a lot of impulsive liar characters recently.....surely this says nothing about me as a person

[pk4n]

Morgott & my Tarnished oc, Wrenn! (mostly i wanted to draw Morgott with reading glasses here)

[kakushino]

I didn't choose you, my heart did.

I got the art I commissioned today and it turned out so fucking cute and perfect 🥺❤️ I'm so fucking soft for this.

The idea was "seconds before first kiss" - Giyuu x my OC/self-insert

The artist: Wrenn

discord: oiran_chama

tumblr: @shitsuren-chama

twitters: oiran_chama (nsfw, main) shitsuren_chama (sfw, side acct)

Insta: oiran_chama

[trivanvanile]

Meet the Fantasy High OC of mine!

Cicada Wrenn, Level 13 Circle of Spores Druid.

He’s a 4’3” Kenku that weighs about 75lbs, soaking wet. Don’t be fooled by his diminutive shape, as he is stronger than most people. Backstory below.

Born to his mothers, Illen and Wynne, in the Grove of Owls, just outside Bastion City. Cicada was very in tune with nature. When he was six, their entire circle was forced out for the sake of real estate development.

His family relocated to Elmville, where Illen started a charity organization to help displaced druids, and the less fortunate with free food and water. Wynne established a landscaping company that works primarily to protect nature itself.

Cicada had grown dedicated to his druidic studies, and after a certain point, his parents agreed to send him to Aguefort, where Cicada struggled to make friends. Even at 14, his intensity was a lot, and his random anti-establishment rants got him in a lot of trouble. He would often skip class until one day the Druid Teacher spoke to him about the kind of person he wanted to be, and how blooming in adversity is natural.

From then on, Cicada became something of a more stoic individual. During Sophomore Year he was extremely thrilled to go after a “settlement” effort in the Swamps of Chaos, which became personal when he learned the company involved with the loss of his Grove was connected to the colonization efforts.

At the start of his Junior Year, Cicada received an early A+ for his classes for successfully creating a Druidic Grove just outside Elmville, over his summer break. So he rarely is at school. His party members usually find him helping Illen delivering fresh produce and water, or in a holding cell in Bastion city after a protest becomes a riot. (either defending his fellow protesters or antagonizing counter protests)

As for the Junior Year Drama? He doesn’t really have a strong opinion either way. He doesn’t care for the Rat Grinders, and the Bad Kids aren’t particularly his crowd, though he will admit to enjoying Fabian Seacaster’s Lofi Study Hall.

[lichensings]

happy one year birthday to my ocs wrenne and mockingbird. these bitches gay good for them

[daughter-of-melpomene]

Ship Soundtrack + Ivana and Dick

Thank you so much for the ask, Greta!! I’ll also tag @manyfandomocs since he’s my other DC bestie. <3

opening credits: “goodnight gotham” by rihanna. meeting for the first time: “kiss with a fist” by florence + the machine. hey, i kinda like you: “i wanna be yours” by arctic monkeys. i’m going to kiss you now: “gasoline” by halsey. falling in love: “labyrinth” by taylor swift. your place or mine: “imagine” by ariana grande. naked in bed: “locked out of heaven” by bruno mars. first fight: “fragile” by gnash and wrenn. maybe we should take a break: “clementine” by halsey. i want you back: “i love you so” by the walters. will you marry me: “lucky” by colbie caillat and jason mraz. first child: “we made it.” by david hugo. we’re getting older: “always forever” by cults. if you die i’ll go with you: “till forever falls apart” by ashe and finneas. end credits: “cosmic love” by florence + the machine.

send me an oc ship and i’ll create their soundtrack!!

[solemntoad]

[starlitwishes]

"... What the hell is a 'therapist'?"

A person with a service you desperately need!