#Wrenfield

[itsernestok]

Wrenfield's costume includes a helmet that makes it look like he has red hair, otherwise being light-grey with a black visor, and revealing his mouth and chin. The outermost padding of the body armor gives off the appearance of a muscle structure with different weak points than that of a normal human body, while the innermost layer provides ease of motion. The logo on the chestplate is a stylized "W", because "Wrenfield" is pronounced just like "Renfield". It's also made of a reinforced variation of the alloy batarangs are made of because people can and will aim for the logo. (Bruce knows this from experience.) The gloves and boots are dark blue while the utility belt is dark green, and the body armor mentioned above is dark grey, and highly bullet-resistant.

[mossypidder]

I was putting my pin curls in while Nugget was out last night and she kept jumping on my hand to try and steal my bobby pins. And then she proceeded to try and bathe in the back of my wet hair. As annoying as it was, it made me happy, so I doodled it.

[ravensworld3485]

Wingchester by Shellington Labs

[herbgerblin]

:/ my blades in the dark boy Wrenfield was simply trying to have cute graveyard date by planting some flowers with his crush (who is a ghost) but date was crashed by three!!!! demon lords

[jeanivere]

wrenfield, knight of the ivy

[incorrect-webtoon-quotes]

Rise from Ashes: #1

Wren: I don't want to make you think you're some...

Nox: STUPID, DIRTY,

Nox: ROTtEN,

Nox: FILTHY SILLY,

Nox: BILLY,

Nox: NO GOOD FOR NOTHIN-

Nox: uh,

Nox: WHITE

Nox: uh--

Nox: sSrVrvs-

Nox: RAT, ScOUNDREL-BITCH--

Wren: Okay! Okay, thank you for your help.

Nox: You're welcome.

[thoughtcatalog]

Relationships are going to be hard and challenging no matter what, but they shouldn’t be insanely painful or gut-wrenching. When you’re with the right person, you have to swallow your pride sometimes and make compromises and take risks with your heart, but it shouldn’t mean you have to be dealing with heartbreak all the time and feeling inadequate or not as loved as you could be.

(Source: thoughtcatalog.com)

[twilightficlists]

Wrenfield Hall

Wrenfield Hall by Wannabe Charlotte

In 1870s England, Bella finds herself without home or family when her father dies. She secures a position as a housemaid in a country manor belonging to Lord Edward Masen. The two form a bond that is threatened by class differences and Edward's past.

[everlastingrandom]

"Are you...down bad, as it were?"

— My Blades in the Dark boy, Wrenfield, trying to flirt with the group of ghosts in his (former, now deceased) gang boss's office

[mossypidder]

Doodles I did of Gus and Wrenfield. Probably gonna end up doing summer and winter molt adults too, but we’ll see. Look at nugget’s little face tho- she’s just she’s so happy with herself.

Eventually, these will be stickers purchasable on my Etsy shop when I open it, I just want to finish enough first.

[caddy-whump-us]

I realized I need a surname or two in the vampire WIP--especially for Nikolai (because his parentage figures into his backstory a bit). And my subconscious volunteered “Wrenfield” and I thought “Hey, that’s pretty good.”

It was only after I’d settled on it that I realized, oh wait, I’ve already got a Jonathan in this story and now I’m gonna have a (W)Renfield too???

I’m just gonna embrace it. I mean, why not?

[itsernestok]

The next day, it was decided that Darren should start training to become a superhero. About half a year, it was time for Darren to come up with a rudimentary design first draft for his uniform, and a codename. Between the bird theme and stalking the night to strike fear, Darren picked "Wrenfield" as his codename.

This OC is essentially my take on "What if Bruce Wayne had another biological son, one that wasn't raised as part of superhero stuff?"

The backstory is mainly that Darren, not yet knowing he's a Wayne, went ham against someone who would've been a supervillain if they weren't stopped sometime while he was at the local grocery store, getting injured in the process. During the subsequent blood tests, the doctor finds out that Darren is a biological son of Bruce Wayne, in part because Bruce Wayne got injured at a club in the same town as the playboy billionaire philanthropist the public knows him to be. (The injury wasn't intentional, but Bruce definitely let it add to his cover.)

Sometime after the friends of the would-be supervillain find out that Darren is Bruce Wayne's son, they put some money together to send Darren approximately 2800 miles away to Gotham, making him Bruce's problem and not theirs.

Darren packed, and promised his mother, Brenda, that he'd write a letter a day or so after he made it to the mansion, in part to make sure she knew he made it there safe, and in part to get her the mansion's address, facilitating the sending of what he wanted to pack, but couldn't.

And then there's when he got to the mansion...

Damian: Identify yourself.

Darren: I should've figured I have a half-brother.

[herbgerblin]

not to psychoanalyze myself via ttrpgs, but all my ocs have motivations that require a lot of charisma, which is the one stat that activates the fight/flight response in real-person human me:

Wrenfield is constantly trying to flirt (with ghosts)

Ayo (a bard) is her world's equivalent of a pop star

Hellion is a fae highschooler who is new in town

[welcometoblackball]

Page 32 -Well, Mrs. Wrenfield’s looks to be hopping, though kind of weird that she lives in a warehouse?

From one anthology to the next, I am honored to have had the opportunity to be apart of Jack Holder’s WHY FAITH? anthology, which deals with many questions of faith in all it’s forms, no judgement or preaching. Each week leading up to our April campaign, we’re going to give a preview of each of the 31 stories you can find within this fine collection.

This week is  "Poppa," by Trina Robbins and Tintin Pantoja, a story of an immigrant family at the turn of the 20th century. Look at how beautiful this first page! Can’t wait to read the rest. 

[pqpppfelipe]

Uma pessoa imatura acha que ela deve prover coisas para ti. Uma pessoa madura sabe que um relacionamento significa que vocês os dois estão a prover igualmente um para o outro. Uma pessoa imatura guarda tudo, e dá uma bronca por conta da raiva ou outras emoções reprimidas. Uma pessoa madura admite quando precisa de ti e quando precisa falar, mesmo que isso a torne desconfortável ao início. Uma pessoa imatura dá desculpas. Uma pessoa madura admite quando está errada, e faz sempre tudo o que pode para se corrigir. Uma pessoa imatura ou é carente ou impossível de segurar. Uma pessoa madura guarda sempre tempo para ti, e ao mesmo tempo, certifica-se de ter uma vida fora do seu relacionamento. Uma pessoa imatura só está interessada em beleza. Uma pessoa madura aprecia a tua beleza física, mas é mais atraída pela tua personalidade. Uma pessoa imatura acha que já sabe tudo. Uma pessoa madura anda por aí com a mentalidade de que há sempre algo novo para aprender com todas as pessoas que encontra. Uma pessoa imatura concentra-se no que ela quer agora, agora, e apenas agora. Uma pessoa madura vive no agora, mas também pensa em ideias para o futuro. Uma pessoa imatura vai passar um tempo com os teus amigos – se gostar deles. Uma pessoa madura vai passar tempo com os teus amigos independentemente dos seus sentimentos em relação a eles, porque se eles são importantes para ti, são importantes para ela. Uma pessoa imatura toma decisões precipitadas com base nos seus desejos imediatos. Uma pessoa madura entende o conceito de ser racional e ter prioridades. Uma pessoa imatura precisa de ti por causa da sua frágil autoestima. Uma pessoa madura precisa de ti, porque ela acredita que a sua vida é melhor contigo nela. Uma pessoa imatura está preocupada com o que os seus amigos acham sobre ti. Uma pessoa madura não se preocupa com o que as outras pessoas pensam, desde que vocês estejam felizes juntos. Uma pessoa imatura está pronta para fazer qualquer coisa para conseguir o que quer, inclusivamente magoar-te. Uma pessoa madura está pronta para amar sem hesitação.

Texto de Sophie Wrenfield (tradução)

[finnpinefall]

Wren Ch. 5

Luckily it wasn’t too far from Carver Square to The Red Lion, and he arrived close to ten in the evening. He went in and took a look around. This was a very upscale establishment, befitting the name. Many of the patrons looked like wealthy out-of-towners. Of course, anyone who managed to make it to Wrenfield from anywhere farther than the surrounding villages must have at least some wealth, or incredible luck. But these people were on another level entirely.

Jokes on me, I guess, for thinking that a bald guy with a ring on each finger would stand out.

Rich took a seat at the bar. Shit. Not enough money. I didn’t realize I drank that much last night. I should have checked before leaving the house.

“What’ll ya have?” The bartender caught Rich off guard. He was cheerful. Rich did not like drinking around cheerful people.

“A mead,” Rich may have had a habit of drinking his cares away, but he still cared enough to want to like the taste of his drink, “as much as you can fit in the tallest goblet you have”

“Three bateaux.”

“I don’t have any, but-”

“I’m sorry, before you offer, we don’t take credit here. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You have no idea how much it pains me to say this, but do you know who I am?”

“Why would I know who you are?”

“Does the name Newport mean anything to you?”

“Oh, you’re Richard Newport?”

“I didn’t think you’d know my first name. I prefer Rich.”

“Word gets around about the more prolific drinkers in the city. Nothing improper, I assure you! We just tend to hear about people who are very good or ahem not so good at paying off their tab. Regardless, if you are who you say you are, then I know you’re good for it.” The barkeep found a particularly large goblet, and poured mead in up to the brim. He placed the cup, very gently, on the bar in front of Rich. “It’s a shame you didn’t follow in your father’s footsteps. He made some great bateaux, best in the city. In fact, I believe your family is the reason our currency is named what it is!”

“Mhm.” Rich did not like where this conversation was going. He took a large swig of his drink.

“Why didn’t you go into the business, anyway? I’ve heard it was very profitable.”

“My parents died when I was young.” He stared daggers at the barkeep.

“It wasn’t that long ago, was it? It’s 2486 now. They died in 2476, only ten years ago. You look about forty, right? Thirty-five? We’ll go thirty-five. That’d make you twenty-five when your parents died. More than old enough to have learned the trade, that’s old enough to have made your masterpiece. Who are you, really?”

This is why I drink at cheap bars, Rich thought, The bartenders there don’t ask so many questions. They just let you drink in peace. Here they have to socialize with you. The bastards are always looking for information to sell. “I lost some years. As the clock turns I’m only twenty-three.”

“Twenty three? Why you would’ve only been thirteen in 2476. My condolences. I apologize for my impropriety. May I ask what made you lose those years?”

“You may not.” Rich hoped this would be the end of it. He knew that once he had some drink in him, he’d answer any question asked of him. He had a long night ahead of him. It would look suspicious if he didn’t drink, it already aroused enough suspicion that someone so apparently well known for drinking at dive bars would be in a place like this. He slowly sipped at his mead. He knew that bartender wasn’t done trying to ask him questions. For people like that, in places like this, bartending was only a side gig. The main business was rumors. Whispers of information to anyone willing to pay the right price.

Continue reading through to chapter 13 on my website: https://www.finnpinefall.com/314_ch-6