#vaney !! ✩

[human-antithesis]

Throane - Plus Une Main À Mordre (October 20th, 2017) Country: France Genre: Avant-Garde Black Metal Format: FLAC

Everything composed by Vincent Petitjean A.K.A. Dehn Sora

Guest/Session: Gregoire Quartier - Drums Colin H. Van Eeckhout - Vocals (Track 6) Sylvain Doerler - Vocals (Track 6) Jean-Emmanuel Simoulin - Vocals (Track 6)

Miscellaneous Staff: Vincent Petitjean - Artwork Samuel Vaney - Producer Franck Neuman - Drum Recording

Label: Debemur Morti Productions

Tracklist:

Aux tirs et aux traits - 09:37

Et ceux en lesquels ils croyaient - 04:27

À trop réclamer les vers - 05:46

Et tout finira par chuter - 09:45

Mille Autres - 04:51

Plus une main à mordre - 11:41

#Telegram #Throane #Avant-Garde Black Metal #Black Metal #Dehn Sora #Vincent Petitjean #Gregoire Quartier #Sylvain Doerler #Jean-Emmanuel Simoulin #Franck Neuman #France #Colin H. Van Eeckhout #Belgium #Samuel Vaney #Switzerland #Debemur Morti Productions #Cover Art #Artwork

[vaneymagicworld]

Yes It's Finally My Birthday!! And I made this special Art for my birthday!!

In this art Vaney, Liza, And Kacey are at the table in front of the cake! Vaney is holding the knife ready to cut the cake, Liza wants to really eat the cake so badly, and Kacey really wants to blow the candle again, and yes since it's my birthday it is also theirs as well^^

#hazbin hotel oc #oc #hazbin oc #happy birthday #happy bithday to me

[444names]

Names generated from American and Filipino names

Abaley Abarongald Abisuance Abithangco Abrylet Acadice Adelet Adore Agaboc Agalleno Agard Agbinalan Agturnes Aguingsard Alapuc Alaurody Alazon Albenz Aleavaley Alencie Aligta Aloisonney Anald Anasey Andel Angco Angcox Angtas Ankine Antes Anton Apate Aramiscon Arotan Arren Atongco...

Bacion Baciotte Bagdayroll Bagson Baiters Baldulan Balio Barbuella Barick Basemachmi Basle Baster Batum Baudino Beassan Becbearman Bedetty Bejan Bellie Bellisto Bence Bendrate Bentephin Berredina Bertroblao Bestor Biacionnas Biandina Bilsabol Blanguett Blinaargio Borking Bortingco Brais Brauz Bredo Brestrison Brimbales Briva Buarette Bucao Bucarlouli Buennie Bueno Buller Bulong Buman Bumickwe Bunco Bungco Burciong Cabalforne Cabind Cabunce Cadon Cafork Cafren Cajoellas Calderle Caldson Callarty Calman Camer Canga Cangta Capaguir Caramandor Carie Carne Carrag Cascus Caton Caynnannel Chalay Chanoreo Charkiron Charlip Charseartz Chers Claguia Claugan Claung Cleredura Cojara Cosentesti Cracan Cungkence Curisongan Cuyti Dagumoy Dambelin Danara Dangco Danievis Darannya Daven Dayoa Dealis Dennice Dianin Dichandry Dienoa Dimban Doteher Dumiran Dungco Dussinsh Duvin Edgesay Elastria Errencer Ertens Ester Estiu Everasay Faelarrah Filep Flogo Flornez Fratredwer Freeno Frobler Gadon Galans Galbes Galuncard Galviste Gamibok Gandy Gangco Gapmae Gasajuan Gaver Geergery Genick Gesadalley Giley Gilvann Ginceve Gozadovene Grensa Grimpope Guecoodwal Guici Guier Haneen Harlyn Harson Heenal Hilarerd Hipolango Hodindo Hollan Hoodso Horiers Horpuz Huanto Hubancho Hulind Ibathenan Irell Irrivers Isarre Isykers Jampsona Janda Jando Jarbelad Jautap Jealdez Jeano Jearrison Jenamurta Jenay Jendy Jimoodra Josin Junadich Justio Kabalargel Kaigangco Kaillao Kangloince Karce Karrel Kattewto Kaudle Kiders Killerfe Knidin Knist Krisong Krivinas Lacion Lacla Lainat Lalang Lamanson Lando Lanibel Lanoy Larillan Lario Larong Larowson Lasajean Latroson Laystin Lengparie Licedo Licera Licharcio Ligith Lindat Lontan Luangco Lublanc Luygol Mabania Mabung Macangca Maciaoc Macojangay Macosh Macungco Madelly Madoz Magadez Magan Magay Magerna Magpat Maguin Maguling Malaycion Maleore Maley Malie Malmacidt Malviri Mamey Mamore Manabalson Mancina Mandrie Mangco Manlade Manni Manornap Marew Marry Matan Mccala Mccaoine Mcdorger Mcman Meliverrey Memania Millalon Mongay Mongco Morna Mullao Murendomon Nambootos Nancarca Nandoren Ngayolip Niapac Nuguevo Ollane Orampag Osonsat Pacaffer Paddlanang Pagan Paggarce Pallila Panata Panede Paret Parpurhack Parrang Parrossen Parters Parthielt Pasancalla Patamez Pauriams Payek Penne Phrie Poree Powayot Powen Prinsuriso Quelson Quentuya Queza Quimpta Quiotontas Quiridaris Quirigs Quirlens Raciaois Ragledlake Rancy Rangco Ranip Rannao Ransie Raona Reccras Reston Rhubet Richoleleo Righer Rison Risosene Rocson Rombringta Rongcola Ronimon Rosboy Rosurobon Ruchan Rugamer Saccra Sadley Sallit Samise Sammy Samoreza Sandrion Sangcomps Sarks Sarquellay Sawarlor Sentas Sharryater Sherter Sideanart Siergelina Sigher Silentul Silio Sopennis Soricay Stabard Staoani Stayanla Stingconan Stopher Subed Suezandyes Suialanie Sulairabb Sulard Sumdua Sunnableto Swareg Swess Tabentuna Tabowns Takek Tansan Tayernot Tayught Tiazie Timjohner Timole Tradlaron Trapiony Troangco Tuirkmart Turamean Umagado Umang Ungasco Unsean Vallipin Vaney Vantert Veacard Vedgarlez Vichamse Viongdao Vitzge Waree Warpuz Watholay Waywartlee Wennipsong Whillagos Wigon Wilis Winas Winsugan Wooknilla Woolistin Wooperris Wordor Wycellao Yaclan Yamon Yandy Yuguyug Yumapoy

#444 names #444names #dnd names #fantasy names #name stash #names #markov gen #fantasy name #character names #random fantasy names #markovgen

[askkassandragf-v-2]

Happy birthday kassy!!! :D

I hope you enjoy your day and that you eat so much cake x3🎂🎂🎂🎂🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

Awww thank you Vaney! x33 ✨💞💘💗💝💖❣️✨💞💘💗💝💖❣️

#happy early birthday #AskKassandraGF V.2

[side-line]

OLOMUHD unites Samuel Vaney and Loïc Grobety for ‘The Absurd Silence Of A Mute World’ album – Out on March 29

http://dlvr.it/T3lDGk

[wolvesandvibrancyrecords]

PREORDER: ALDRIG DEBUT ALBUM & FAWN LIMBS / NADJA ALBUM

ALDRIG 'YAGMUR' (WVR 058)

Aldrig (BE) is a group that was formed by ex-Soul Grip members Gert Stals & Joren De Roeck. Musically unifying sounds from black metal, sludge & post metal; combined with visceral, layered vocals, Aldrig creates an avant-garde sonic landscape that reigns cathartic. Both anointing and abrasive, their first record “Yağmur” is a vessel for grief.

Lyrically the record encapsulates a character falling through time and space, awakening in different urban dimensions over and over again, chasing something it cannot ever find. Like a blinding light in the night sky, there is an unabsolved longing in Aldrig’s music, a lament for liberation, but there is no liberation, only further confinement.

⛓️ Vinyl facts: ⛓️ Limited to 300 copies: ⛓️ 200 copies white black marbled vinyl ⛓️ 100 copies gold black split vinyl ⛓️ 180 g vinyl ⛓️ 350 gsm outer sleeve ⛓️ incl. downloadcode ⛓️ mixed by Magnus Lindberg (Cult Of Luna) ⛓️ mastered by Jack Shirley ⛓️ Front cover artwork by Julio Camacho-Vicente ⛓️ Back cover images by Lore Horré

⛓️ Shirt facts: ⛓️ ⛓️ artwork by Julio Camacho-Vicente ⛓️ printed by Fabric in Gent on Stanley x Stella Blaster shirt (oversized)

FAWN LIMBS & NADJA 'VESTIGIAL SPECTRA' (WVR 057)

“Even though both bands have their own signature tones and pace, both have wandered off to the other end of the spectrum occasionally, and while the match up might seem strange upon first glance, the composition process was rather quick and smooth, maybe to everyone’s surprise. Done via file sharing in the middle of the plague, the results of these two worlds colliding are nothing short of lush and fluent; most of the time you can’t tell anymore where the other begins and where the other ends, thus the collaborational aspect clearly flourishes as it should. What started out as a few messages sent back and forth, resulted in a genreless, mind-bending monolith of an album that Vestigial Spectra is. Vestigial Spectra carries both Fawn Limbs and Nadja’s own signatures, but burns bright to exist as an entity completely of its own. The songs and the album as a whole ebbs and flows between unestablished parameters that are as surprising as they are anticipated. Taking influence from a variety of styles ranging from grindcore to doom and from noise to ambient, Vestigial Spectra blends its components seamlessly to produce an entirely novel aural field that simultaneously is both a dynamic and thought-out craft and a wall of noise-esque seemingly directionless leviathan. Whether slow, fast, or free of pulse and time, every single second on the album is as important as the ones preceding and following it, making Vestigial Spectra first and foremost a cohesive and consistent entirety.

Thematically, Vestigial Spectra studies astronomical spectroscopy – in which scientists use a spectograph to determine the make-up of stellar bodies and planets amongst other things – and its inherent relation to human nature. Mirroring these practices and standards from one another makes up for layered lyrical approach that can read as scientific pathos as easily as a metaphorically charged burst of emotion. There are three types of spectra – absorption, continuous, and emission – which corresponds to the album’s structure and sonic being.”

This is the EU version - Limited to 300 copies:

⛓️ 200 copies ghost marbled teal vinyl ⛓️ 100 copies marine froth blue vinyl ⛓️ gatefold sleeve ⛓️ fully printed inner sleeve ⛓️ incl. downloadcode

⛓️ mixed & mastered by Samuel Vaney (Lead & Sulfur Studio)

⛓️ Front cover photography by Eeli Helin ⛓️ Painting by Aidan Baker ⛓️ Design by Paul Pavlovich

[deltamusings]

Dylan Me-vaney speaks up and complains that Budweiser didn’t support him and paints himself as a victim even though he still has hundreds of thousands, if not millions of dollars of endorsements still coming in.  Meanwhile, hundreds are being laid off at bottling companies over his mess.  Most people want no part of the tranny circus.  That’s reality.  That’s truth.

[classicladiesofcolor]

Quiet Elegance — Lois Reeves, Frankie Gearing, and Mildred Vaney

#Quiet Elegance #Frankie Gearing #Lois Reeves #Mildred Vaney #Singer

[thelarkknight71]

2 Wings Birthdays this week!! Happy Birthday to Helmer and Vaney! 🎉🎈

#darren helm #thomas vanek #helmer #vaney #helms #detroit red wings #lgrw #happy birthday #nhl #hockey #wallpaper wednesday #wallpapers #lockscreens #backgrounds

[human-antithesis]

Throane - Derrière​-​nous, la lumière (May 27th, 2016) Country: France Genre: Avant-Garde Black Metal Format: FLAC

Everything composed by Vincent Petitjean A.K.A. Dehn Sora

Miscellaneous Staff: Vincent Petitjean - Artwork, Recording Gregoire Quartier - Producer Samuel Vaney - Producer, Mixing, Mastering

Label: Debemur Morti Productions

Tracklist:

Sortez vos lames, que nous perdions nos poings - 04:11

Aussi féroces que nous repentons - 05:44

Derrière-nous, la lumière - 04:55

Un instant dans une torche - 04:47

Contre Terre - 04:19

Nous blâmons la tempête de nous avoir laissés en plaies - 04:33

A Cette Chute - 03:08

#Telegram #Throane #Avant-Garde Black Metal #Black Metal #Vincent Petitjean #Dehn Sora #Gregoire Quartier #France #Samuel Vaney #Switzerland #Debemur Morti Productions #Cover Art #Artwork

[vaneymagicworld]

My three Hazbin Hotel OC's

If you've been following me on Instagram, Amino, and DeviantArt, you would know these are redesigns and color pallets.

The older sibling is Vaney/Vandaney, she's also the leader of her witch coven. She is a very dangerous overlord and when alive was a witch with her two siblings.

The middle sibling is Liza/Lizabeth, she is always the fangirl which helps her lore in victims for the plans, spell, potions, etc, which the three make.

The Youngest siblings is Kacey, they are usually the calmest one and know how to help their older sisters calm down when they are mad or need help.

Also you can ask them anything whenever you like and I will post responses with art of the OC you ask or OCs answering

#hazbin hotel oc #hhoc #hazbin oc #my art #oc #oc art

[444names]

american forenames + american surnames + theological angels + theological demons

Abnown Acquney Adianc Adolmee Adormer Adounle Agoffy Aguellin Ahooperry Alaimbs Alaumark Alberuccas Aldelico Aldsager Aleon Allas Allaugha Amenn Androsane Aphoreess Apult Aristil Astickie Atermster Avilkas Aylvar Aynnabene Azque Baleberae Baners Banjaielles Barkens Barki Bathithya Bathrie Batra Beancis Bearken Bechadyson Belie Bennitan Bericerie Beviaggia Bhara Biellmar Biffisey Blanker Bolew Bondanton Bonniolar Booke Bornasmi Bowelman Bowson Braynn Briamel Brich Brist Bristay Brithas Brochanight Bronickshen Bryanne Buccubb Bucheth Buckie Bukabarosby Buliniel Bullas Buramaniell Bursony Burtyste Caapruzziel Caimord Calachricky Calinston Camah Campbermac Candsoliel Carne Carodyel Caromong Carren Carse Castu Casuria Chalairbaas Charantred Chavaphimer Chmancia Cholle Chrik Chriley Clifel Cluiz Colaver Crowal Crysterson Cubin Cubur Dalber Daver Dawna Deatte Dececorosio Delowerrods Demar Demon Dence Denny Dershaasel Derson Dieldez Domiahmer Donich Dorie Duffelonn Dumblak Eavirrenn Editt Eiddi Eleonne Elither Emhanio Emorobs Enein Erveris Eshew Everad Fadkir Flaie Flary Flasa Flaurti Floanarrid Fochabie Forkinguis Forman Formwood Forya Fowarth Frada Freek Fremortie Frephax Frojan Furgudin Gaddie Gandavey Garley Garrey Garson Gatone Gayol Gelaurp Gelpson Gielie Gollon Gortathy Gretchon Grital Grolton Guirauld Gushah Halendy Hamalerne Hanchus Handa Harali Harihers Haritt Harivia Harlegory Hassiats Havielaurry Hayon Heckyl Heris Hillyn Hinson Hobbiel Hodel Hodertoyce Hodoll Hodson Holfergiah Holleraya Holphyatfie Hoodyster Hophana Hubur Irams Irwoodon Istins Jacha Jachwall Jacknos Jacoy Jamala Jandy Jasucy Javers Jealan Jeatkirapha Jeffmaray Jerbalbel Jikelitan Jimmeil Joang Johassey Joher Jophan Jophicken Joselling Josharela Josirges Joyanie Judicipson Jusal Kabollandre Kabon Kalthym Kandris Kardarnan Kavana Keiler Keldema Kenza Kinggie Kricedia Kriel Krimmy Kurson Lachedin Lainerrey Lanald Lancia Laught Lemilles Levalton Lichught Litafansop Lockil Lodson Lunking Lynniellyon Mabifull Mading Madle Mahabata Malde Malio Malton Mandam Mandle Mandona Mandric Manitton Manteheath Mantlevey Manto Manurce Marlyn Marnard Maron Marrist Marry Marryas Maxter Mccalvill Mccater Mccusancurg Mcfaireend Mciste Mckie Mckina Mclake Mcpher Mejik Mellin Melyne Meron Micins Middle Midenzi Minge Molexap Mondotong Monglew Moodemuris Morna Mortintomel Muarkevil Muley Munte Murakku Nalde Nasio Nglorie Niagomi Nueris Ocard Odgeevehen Odgels Oldselagne Openjack Oradso Orelian Orgeord Orimon Oshaziel Packy Pacquell Pacquer Parlandanas Parna Paruz Patalline Pathyla Pathym Pattes Peacip Peang Pedichie Penchwaltz Pereen Pershanno Phambhari Phawn Phergie Phermura Pricanio Prise Pritton Prufforne Rahiles Ralvalistes Raminsosa Rannios Raphrie Raprob Rathym Reedaels Reley Rentifer Riarleme Richel Righes Ringra Robbimiddle Rochandacy Ronne Roodon Roston Rubyroa Rucimariggs Ruinartyl Rusirlyn Sagathes Sagnez Sanda Sannicks Sarroniel Satoy Schanixon Schmirdson Semyredrie Senson Sharria Shell Shephie Shersophon Shiel Sicilins Sicky Simey Skine Skings Skintyrd Snorte Snowebstie Soneverryn Spaguez Spechitt Spelen Spett Stammyazet Stegie Sterew Stespeal Sthernickes Stich Stimmes Stoks Stowlee Suarjohavy Surces Surne Swerethich Syanghand Sykens Tafandal Taley Tamson Tridi Trierence Trigus Truzuella Tucclucill Tuerrikina Unchen Urtlemhard Vacood Vallivel Vande Vaney Vazquell Vegownand Verntren Vetcher Vichax Vindia Waddinch Wadon Wagne Waltoney Waron Werrae Whiggs Whitan Wilaur Wilinsons Willa Willauraws Willory Wilse Wolsakarks Woords Woova Wricer Xapowelanix Yorey Zarkimood Zephiel

#names #name stash #fantasy name generation #fantasy name #fantasy names #random names #stash of names #444names #444 names #dnd names #worldbuilding names #random fantasy names #random worldbuilding names #random fantasy name generator #character names #random character names #random character name #markovgen #markov namegen #markov name generator #markov name generation #markov #markov gen

[askkassandragf-v-2]

Neko Nicky (redesign/my version)

Hello conde

Hey no worries in case you're wondering, I did asked Vaney permission if I can redesign him. :) 👌🏻

Neko Nicky belongs to @vanetheglitchfox / @hello-conde

#hello neighbor #hello conde #hello neighbor au #nicholas michael roth #nicky roth #neko #neko nicky #neko player #redesign #vanetheglitchfox #AskKassandraGF V.2

[just-horrible-things]

Caution for: a little gore and body horror

---

Atna

Between the encampment palisades and the edge of the forest is a cleared zone, empty as a fresh page. The smooth expanse of fallen snow belies the broken earth beneath. Dusk gathers, and the first gusts of the night wind moan in the trees. A weary figure trudges out from the treeline. Without skis to spread her weight, she ploughs through snow up to her thighs. The makeshift sled behind her is heavy, laden with an unmistakably human form.

The call goes up from the sentries, and the figure -- dark against the snow and featureless in the gloom -- stops to wave her arms in response. The dogs, loosed, run out to greet her, barking up a storm. They race across the open snow only to prance around her, throwing up great white plumes. When she continues her slog, they race back and forth ahead of her, churning the snow unhelpfully in their enthusiasm.

Two more soldiers emerge from the gates to meet their returning comrade partway. "Captain!" the scout calls in acknowledgement. She is too weary to salute. "What happened?" the Captain demands. "This man is hurt, his ankle is broken." "Where is Ionas?" "He's not here? He was just ahead of me --" "You split up? Vanei, scrip, are you stupid?" The scout does not hang her head. "He went ahead to warn you! We only split at the brook."

As the Captain approaches the sled with lamplight, she examines the injured man. His furs are strange, bound close against his body. Beneath the coat of snow thrown up by the dogs, they are marbled dark and light like no animal she has ever seen.  In place of hat and scarf he wears a hood made from a single length of fur wound around head and neck and crossed over itself until only his eyes are visible. "Atna," the Captain breathes. 

She rounds angrily on the scout. "Dellie, what are you thinking?" "He can't walk. Nightfall would have killed him! He's done us no harm, we couldn't just--" "You split up, broke with orders, and endangered yourself and your partner for this? You know as well as I do that the forest isn't safe. Ionas may be dead already. I hope this atna's life is worth his!" "I'll go back," Dellie promises, "It's not far, I'll follow his tracks –" "You will do no such thing. You need decontamination. And I'll not have anyone else touch the atna. You're both going into quarantine immediately. If Ionas lives, he'll be joining you. Come on, hurry now. Did any of the dogs touch him?"

By the time the little party reaches the gate, a small crowd has gathered to see the atna. At the Captain's angry words they salute and disperse. But a handful of the scrips make themselves busy very nearby, and trail carefully after as the injured man is dragged to the quarantine tent.

"Stoke the fire," the Captain orders Dellie. "You're shaking like a fish, and he can't be any better. Once it's warm enough you will strip him and burn everything. Be sure to check his mouth. Yourself as well -- strip to your underthings and burn the rest." "I barely touched –" "Don't argue with me, scrip. You handled him enough to tie him to your skis. Everything burns." "This is my only coat." "You'll have another from the stores." "My mother made it!" "Then you should have been more careful with it! This is not up for discussion. Who knows what contagion he might be carrying?" Dellie's shoulders slump. "Yes, Captain." "Move then, hurry it up!"

The inside of the tent is warmer than the outside air, but not by a lot. In the large central fireplace, the coals burn low. No one has been using the tent, so the fire is tended only often enough to keep the fire alive. Dellie brushes the snow off the atna and herself, then parks the sled close to the fire and starts raking out ashes in preparation to pile on more fuel. The man is silent and still, and Dellie could almost forget he's there as she shovels coal and fans the fire to life.

But as the flames begin to take and the fire breathes in in earnest, he finally speaks. Dellie almost drops the poker in her surprise. His voice is low, and she thinks tight with pain and stress, but it is hard to decipher tone through the foreign sounds and the muffling of the fur over his face. "I don't understand you," she tells him uselessly.

She can guess that he might want to be untied, and she can't imagine that he's any danger to her in his current state. So she sets the poker back on its stand and crouches beside him to start undoing buckles. It's warm enough now to take off her gloves, which makes the whole process easier. The atna lies still even once the straps are removed, but he speaks again and it could be gratitude.

Dellie spends a little longer fanning the flames and nudging the coals around. It's not often she gets to bring a fire to a roaring blaze like this, but the injured man is an excuse to bring the temperature of the tent up to a heat like she hasn't been able to enjoy in months. She shrugs out of her coat to soak up more of the fire's glow, letting it seep through her shivering flesh and lift the cold from her bones.

Her orders are to burn the coat, but she folds it out of habit and lays it across the bench beside her gloves. Her eyes skim over the familiar curls of her mother's embroidery. Her heart twists at the thought of destroying it. She turns away.

Crouching beside the atna, she takes a deep breath. His eyes are shockingly green, brighter in the firelight than they were in the shade of the trees. They watch her steadily. "Come on then," she sighs, more to herself than to him. He doesn't fight her as she sits him up, but he doesn't cooperate much either. He makes a low, breathless sound that could mean anything at all.

Dellie leans him against her body as she searches for the fastenings of his clothes to start undressing him. Layers cross over layers and she isn't sure where to begin. There's no buttons, only the many lengths of leather thonging that hold the furs against his body. She chooses a knot at random and starts to pick it undone. The atna lifts one shaking hand to stop her. His eyes, very close to hers, crinkle in a smile, and he reaches for a different knot instead. Dellie watches his gloved fingers grope clumsily at the hanging tail of the cord, then reaches hesitantly to drop. He lets his hand drop. 

The knot unravels easily with a simple tug. He says another incomprehensible thing, then indicates two more knots for her to undo. When the third loosens Dellie can suddenly see how to unfold the furs. With his cooperation, she peels them off his body.

Underneath the outer layer, his clothes are shockingly vibrant. Pink and blue like summer flowers mingle and flow together. The fabric is thin and clinging and seems to be his only layer beneath the fur. No wonder he was freezing so fast. Dellie lays him back on the sled -- it'll do as a bed for now, while he needs to be as close to the fire as possible -- and gets to her feet. Clumsily he begins to unwind the wrap from around his head and neck, while Dellie inspects the garment she's just taken off him.

She can't really call it a coat. It looks like nothing more than a collection of fur scraps fastened together at odd angles. It seems as though it should fall apart in her hands into patches and cords, but it holds the shape of his arms and upper torso remarkably well. It reminds her of holding an animal skin. Not all the patches are of the same fur, but there's a kind of haphazard elegance to it. It didn't come together this way by accident, but by some exotic design.

She bundles it up and throws it into the fire.

The atna gives a strangled yell and lurches forwards. He's so weak still that he can barely push himself up to sitting. As he tries to get his good leg under him, he pitches forwards towards the flames. Dellie yelps and grabs him to pull him back, but he squirms with remarkable vigour, hands grabbing in the air as she wrestles him away from the flames. "You -- moron -!" she squeaks over the babble of his strange language "-- do you want to burn --!?"

He fights her for a couple of seconds more, then stops. The stink of burning hair fills the air. She lets go only tentatively, half expecting him to throw himself back at the fire. He glowers up at her, panting, then starts talking again. Dellie doesn't understand a word. But she gets the distinct impression that he's cursing at her. "I'm sorry!" she snaps. "I don't like it any more than you do. But it's going to happen whether you like it or not!"

She grabs at the head-wrap in his hands, and he pulls it closer against his chest. "Dja!" he growls, and that's one word Dellie does know. No. "Yes," she hisses back. "Dja!" Her hand snaps forwards and manages to catch a fistful of fur, but he rolls away from her and she loses her grip. The fur is trapped under his body as he lays sprawled on the canvas floor, glaring daggers at Dellie.

"Is everything alright in there?" calls a voice from the door-flap. "Yes," Dellie grouches. "He doesn't want me to burn his clothes." "No surprise there." Mannel ducks into the tent just far enough to see. "Can you handle it?" "Yeah I think so." "Well, I brought new clothes. Don't touch them until you're both decontaminated." "I know, I know." He leaves the thick bundle on the side beside the door, ducks back out, and returns a second later with a second bundle. "Good luck in there," he chuckles. "Call for backup if you need it."

Dellie sighs dramatically. She looks at her unwilling charge, still face down and looking fit to kill her if he could only get up. "We saved your life, you know." He says nothing.

Dellie stomps over to the bench where she left her coat and gloves. "Look," she says, picking the gloves up. "It's not just your stuff." She chucks them one at a time into the fire to join the shrivelling husk of the atna's garment. The wild-coloured fur has burned away, but the leather is reluctant to catch. The smell of char intensifies as the fire finds the furry insides of the gloves.

The man is staring at Dellie with naked incomprehension. It takes the hard edges off his anger and leaves him looking lost and vulnerable. Dellie holds her hands out for the fur. "Come on," she coaxes, "It has to happen." "Dja," he growls, and starts blabbering again.

Patience exhausted, she resorts to force. He is still weak from the cold and he has a broken ankle. The conclusion is foregone. He fights her as she wrestles the fur wrap off him. He lashes out with fists and elbows. He tries to headbutt her. He even bites like a feral animal, sinking his teeth into the sleeve of Dellie's jacket hard enough that she cries out with pain as well as surprise. She feels fewer compunctions after that about pinning him until he hollers.

Inevitably, the fur goes into the fire to join the rest.

Dellie starts to worry about putting too much on at once and smothering it. But the first piece is smouldering now and starting to burn away. The stench is enough to make her gag, but the smoke exits through the top of the tent and they will not choke on it. It just feels like she might.

Between the fire and the exertion, she is starting to get over-warm. She peels her fur trousers off and adds them reluctantly to the pyre, then paces to the edge of the tent to cool off a little while the fire chews through their clothing. She thinks about taking her jacket off too. But she can still see the indentations of tooth-marks in the leather.

Piercing green eyes watch her with suspicion. When she is still for a little while, the atna pushes himself carefully up to sitting. But he doesn't try anything else. Dellie returns to the fire, scrapes away the ashes and adds a few more coals. She looks at the coat that her mother stitched for her. She looks at the atna. "I should have left you to die," she grumbles.

He fights her again as she peels off the rest of his furs, but the fight goes out of him when she has to pull them over that broken ankle. He holds still so that she can go gently, and contents himself with lowering blackly at her while she unlaces the cords and threads his foot out from the furs. He is silent, this time, as his clothing goes into the fire. Dellie dares to hope that he's done with making this difficult for her. But when she comes back for the rest of his clothes he gets frantic again.

His struggles are outright frenzied as Dellie tries to pull his colourful shirt over his head. His voice pitches up through anger into desperation. She has to sit on him to stop him pulling away. He shrieks like a rabbit and bites her again and again. He was so human just a minute ago, but now he is every bit the wild thing that she knows the atna are.

"What's going on in here?" "Captain," Dellie answers breathlessly, still wrestling with him. "He's -- fighting me, Captain!" "Do you need support?" "I can handle it -- I think!" She gets the fabric over his face and at least it stops him biting. "I'm not sure!" "I'll have someone standing by."

The colourful shirt is firmly caught around both arms, and he will not relent. Dellie gives up, grabs the knife off her belt, and starts cutting into the fabric where it's pulled taut. He jerks sideways and the knife slips, scoring a shallow line up his arm. He shrieks again. Cursing, Dellie lets go of his arms. He pulls the shirt down off his head immediately, and freezes when he sees the knife. "Stop fighting me," she snarls.

Miraculously, he does hold still while she slices the shirt clean up the back. His eyes are wide and wild, his lips pulled back from his teeth as if he's more dog than man. But he holds still. Dellie cuts the sleeves off him too, and drags the rags out from under his body. He doesn't make it any easier for her, but he doesn't fight it either.

The brief spell of cooperation breaks the instant she takes the knife to the waist of his leggings.

"You animal," Dellie curses him as he struggles underneath her. She has to drop the knife for fear of cutting him. He wails and babbles and snarls, and she pins him with a knee on his bare back and strips him like a recalcitrant toddler. There is laughter from the door-flap, where her promised reinforcements form an audience of two.

When she finally has both his leggings and his boots off, the atna scrambles away as if afraid for his life, dragging the broken ankle behind him. He cowers against the back wall of the tent while Dellie straightens her clothes in a huff. Into the flames the last of his clothing goes.

"You rescued a wild animal, Dellie," Alan laughs. "What did you think was going to happen?" "I should have left him," she agrees. "Maybe his own kind would have come back for him, like with baby birds." "That would have saved me a whole lot of trouble. Ugh, the Captain wants me to search his mouth -- he'll bite my fingers off! Can't we get one of the dog trainers in here?"

As she approaches, the atna does indeed bare his teeth at her again. He curls up a fraction tighter. "I really don't know if I can do this without help," Dellie confesses. He's more lively now than he was, and she isn't as confident. "Decontaminate first," Mannel suggests, "then I'll come in and help." "You lazy bastard," Alan accuses. "You just want to get out of work."

Shaking her head, Dellie returns to the hearth and strips down. Her jacket goes into the fire. Her boots she sets aside. They didn't touch the atna -- maybe she can keep them if they go through quarantine and nothing grows. Her socks go into the fire. Her leggings she will burn, but she leaves them on the bench for the moment, lest she smother the flames.

The Captain only said she had to strip down to underthings. She could keep her shift and hose. But Dellie thinks about sharp seeds burrowing into fabric, lying dormant waiting for the host to sleep. She shivers, and peels off the woollen things too.

There's a barrel of carbolic among the stacked supplies. Dellie ladles it liberally over herself, making sure to soak her hair to the roots and to rub it into her skin from top to toe. It itches on the skin, and even in the growing heat of the tent she will be cold with wet skin. But it eases Dellie's nerves to know that it is killing any foreign germs that the atna has left on her skin. She fills a bucket, and hauls it over to the atna.

The brief reprieve hasn't calmed him down at all. He snaps his teeth fiercely and balls his hands into fists. Dellie stops a pace short of his reach, casts a rueful glance at her thoroughly amused backup, and takes a deep breath. Then she throws the content of the bucket over him.

The atna sputters and gasps, anger momentarily displaced by shock. He goggles up at Dellie. "Wash with it," she tells him slowly, miming rubbing her own skin like she was a moment ago. "Dja," he refuses. "Look. You wash yourself," she jabs her finger at him, "or I wash you."

He flinches back when she moves forward, and tries to hit her as she grabs his arm. She fends him off long enough to demonstrate rubbing the antiseptic into his skin. He pulls violently away from her. She lets go and watches bemusedly as he scoots frantically backwards along the tent wall away from her. "Wash," she orders him again. Very reluctantly, he puts his hands on his own arms and mimics her gesture. "That's right! Just like that. Thank fuck, he gets it."

She stomps off to refill the bucket. It's the last of the carbolic -- "Fetch me some more, would you?" -- but it should be enough. The atna flinches when she brings it close and turns his head away, eyes screwed shut in anticipation of another dousing. But this time she just sets it down on the canvas beside him. She dips her hand to demonstrate, and wets her hair a little more. He stares flatly at her, so she cups a palmful and splashes it over him. 

When she reaches to touch him again, he snaps out another quick sequence of syllables and pulls away. Dellie withdraws her hand, but she points firmly at the bucket. Reluctantly, he dips his hand in and wets his hair.

Every single step requires a similar level of prompting. Dellie demonstrates persistently. It's like he's never washed before, and perhaps he hasn't. Do atna bathe? Frequently she has to threaten to do it herself. She can't understand why he is so afraid. She itches to just get on with it. But so long as he will do it himself she won't force him. He seems so scared. 

He is particularly reluctant to uncurl, preferring to hide his belly behind his arms and legs wherever he can. When she prompts him to wash that area, he shuffles awkwardly round to put his back to her. "What's he hiding?" Mannel chirps from the door. "I can't tell. Get in here and help, and we'll find out." Mannel saunters in in no particular hurry. "Wow, it's hot in here," he remarks. "I hope you're not intending to keep it like this all week."

They corner the feral atna between them. He repeats his foreign no over and over. Dellie despairs of communicating. All his squirming and flailing is futile. Between the two of them they have no difficulty securing him. Mannel kneels behind the atna, holding his arms behind his back, while Dellie levers his legs down to expose his stomach.

"Vanei," Mannel gasps.

The skin of the atna's stomach is marred by a ragged-edged patch of brown the size of Dellie's palm. She takes it for mud at first glance, or perhaps a scabbed-over wound. But as she takes in the rippled texture, she realises that it is tree bark.

The atna takes advantage of her shock to wrest his legs out of her grip and curl up again, still babbling in his garbled foreign tongue. "What is that?" she wonders aloud. "I don't know." Mannel twists the man's arms harder to make him holler and stop trying to kick Dellie with his one good leg. "But it can't be anything good."

It only takes a brief tussle to pin him again. Dellie sits on his thighs as he shrieks his head off. "Shut up!" she yells back in his face. "Shut up shut up shut up!"

His frantic squirming stills momentarily as she brushes cautious fingers over the patch. Dellie can hear Alan at the door, explaining the situation to whoever is outside. Mannel nudges the bucket towards her with one knee, and she snaps out of her confusion. She splashes carbolic liberally over the whole area. Then she touches the bark again. It doesn't easily come away from his skin. "It's stuck," she informs Mannel. The atna's voice is low with a different kind of urgency as repeats "dja" again. But Dellie still can't understand another word of his jabbering. "Creepy," says Mannel.

Dellie forces her fingertips under the edge. The bark seems glued down, separating only stickily and reluctantly from the skin. There is warm wetness beneath, and Dellie jerks her hand back in surprise. The liquid is clear and colourless on her fingertips, both slicker and tackier than the carbolic. She grimaces at Mannel. Their unwilling patient's protests have taken on a fresh pleading tone. There's nothing to be done to reassure him. She prises the bark away from the skin carefully, sliding her fingers sideways beneath it to widen the gap. Near the centre there is heat, and the atna howls. Dellie falters. "Gods alive," she swears, "I think it's growing into him." "The poor fuck." "Just stay still," she tells the atna. "We can heal this. -- I hope." His struggles have grown weaker. He still pulls against Mannel's grip, but he is panting hard. His eyes are mad and inhuman.

There's nothing else for it. With her fingers far enough under the bark to get a solid grip, Dellie pulls. The atna convulses. His voice rises in another raw howl, climbing and climbing until it breaks. Red blood wells up and soaks her hands as the bark comes free. As she feared, it was not just stuck to his skin. As she pulls, a wet tangle of pale roots slides sickeningly out of his abdomen, dripping with his blood. The wound left behind is deep. Dellie stares in horror for a second, then lurches away as bile rises abruptly in her throat. She hears Mannel shouting for a medic as she empties her stomach. He sounds far away.

By the time the nausea has receded, the medic is already in the tent. The atna is on his back on the floor again, with Mannel's hands clamped over his abdomen. The firelight paints the scene in stark, dizzying colours.

The medic spots Dellie staring. "Get that abomination into the fire," she commands.

Dellie jumps to do as she's told, and the tent spins. She tries not to look at the blood-soaked mass of bark and pallid fibres as she grabs it one-handed. The slimy feel of it has her gagging continuously until she can cast it into the flame.

She turns back just in time to see the medic forcing something - probably concentrated carbolic - into the wound. The atna shudders and screeches. Dellie winces hard in sympathy, but the hard-faced woman isn't dissuaded. "Hold his legs," she orders.

Dellie starts forwards. The medic grabs a piece of white rag and shoves it firmly into the wound. The sight of the fabric disappearing into the man's belly turns Dellie's stomach again. She stumbles, as her limbs go limp. Darkness closes in, blotting out the sight of all the blood.  She barely feels herself fall.

#my writing #my ocs #gore #body horror #first aid tw #blood tw #emeto tw #threat of noncon tw #(nothing happens) #forced nudity tw #stripped tw #manhandling tw #painful caretaking #and now for something completely different

[vanetheglitchfox]

Happy late birthday Vaney! \(^v^)/ 💜❤💙🎂🎂🎂

Also I'm so sorry! I didn't realize that yesterday was your birthday. ;-;

Hehe don't worry about it kassy ^^

And thanks ^^ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

[sehrinazizeleri]

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