“The Wendigo was gaunt to the point of emaciation, its desiccated skin pulled tautly over its bones. With its bones pushing out against its skin, its complexion the ash gray of death, and its eyes pushed back deep into their sockets, the Weendigo looked like a gaunt skeleton recently disinterred from the grave. What lips it had were tattered and bloody [….] Unclean and suffering from suppurations of the flesh, the Weendigo gave off a strange and eerie odor of decay and decomposition, of death and corruption.”
Une suppuration est due à l'évolution spontanée d'une infection à germes pyogènes (qui provoquent une suppuration).
Elle provient ou non d'une collection purulente (abcès), qui peut être superficielle, comme dans le cas d'un furoncle (inflammation d'un follicule pilosébacé produite par un staphylocoque) ou d'un abcès de la gencive, ou profonde et localisée alors dans un viscère : foie, poumon, cerveau, rein.
In all my years as a restaurant critic I have learned that there is a certain type of florid, blowsy, patrician Brit who will sidle up and bellow, with a fruity bluster, that if I ever happen to find myself in Paris (as if Paris were a cul-de-sac on a shortcut to somewhere else) there is this little place he knows, proper French, none of your nouvelle nonsense, bloody fantastic foie gras, and roast chicken like Bridget Bardot’s tits, and that I should go. But, they add, don’t bloody write about it. We don’t want Monsieur Yank and his good lady wife turning up in droves. It’s called …
Production designer Colin Gibson describes more of the theory behind the Buzzard tribe. “The Buzzards are basically vultures. They’re a pack of hyenas. If you build a world full of carrion, the hyena and the vulture will circle. And the difference with them is, they have much baser needs, because they were after just material, the crude mechanics, the very stuff of things. They didn’t see a Cadillac, [the Buzzards] saw metal; not man, but meat. George had the theory that they were Russian and I think maybe they were White Russian and way too white – their bodies were ravaged by impetigo and infection. They were suppurating flesh and peeling skin, held in place with Saran Wrap and bandage. It was just a little too moist in this dry and dirty place, so they hid inside the spiky vehicles. They were spiky as much to keep people away from them as for attack. The anthropomorphic treatment worked both on the front and the back, there was a sense of trying to find vehicles that had eyes, that we could add a grinning grille of mouth to, that the radiator could look like braces on an inbred mouth.
THE ROCK RIDERS:
Gibson relates, "If the Buzzards are the hunters of carrion, then the Rock Riders are the hunters just pre-mortem. They have a path through which you must go, which brings you in single file, basically turns you into easy pickings. Their system of attack is obviously, if I live high, then I need to be able to move up and down. So we decided they were two-wheeled parkour artists. Certain motorbikes are built for this.
saw on the show that kittens were used instead of money in card games
(kitten poker) played by demons (Life Serial), and later that Spike
got in serious debt and had to deal with a shark demon who demanded
him immediate payment (Tabula Rasa):
Take it easy, you’ll get your kittens.
DEMON: Oh, I trust you, Mister Spike.
Oh god, what is it with you guys? Why kittens? Why can’t you just use
money like everybody else?
DEMON: She’s funny. I like funny in a girl.
I just need a little more time.
DEMON: Time, time, time! Is what turns kittens into cats!
Season 10 (issue #11), Spike was able to redeem himself of this awful
habit of gambling for kittens – he rescued 6 of them that were
about to be gambled by some nasty demons at the Suppurating Sore Social Club:
He took them home, saying to Xander that he would find them
homes the next day…
But the kittens - now cats - are still in the apartment (up
to issue #28)…
takes care of them, too: and they were Xander’s companion when he was a little depressed and refusing to leave his bedroom:
And incorporeal Anya has been able to be seen by them since they arrived in the apartment:
Gage loves cats; he was asked if the cats would survive Season 10, and
he said that “no cat will ever die in anything” he writes - so no cats will be harmed during the final battle against D’Hoffryn.
Lord of the Icehorn Peak tribes and master of the pox maggoths, Orghotts Daemonspew was born of an unholy union between a Great Unclean One and a human witch. His one and only wish is to claim what he perceives to be his birthright by becoming a true daemon.
This 73-piece plastic kit makes one Orhotts Daemonspew riding the pox maggoth, Whippermaw. A mighty Chaos Warrior, Orghotts is clad in corroded Chaos armour and armed with the Rotaxes, a pair of long-handled weapons which are infused with poison.
The full rules for using Orghotts Daemonspew in games of Warhammer are included in the construction booklet that accompanies the miniature and White Dwarf Issue 38.
Alternatively this kit can be assembled as Bloab Rotspawned or Morbidex Twiceborn.
Morbidex Twiceborn is a powerful, vengeful warrior of Chaos. As a baby he was born into flames and hideously scarred only to be reborn in the image of Nurgle many years later beneath an avalanche of suppurating, Nurgling flesh.
This 73-piece plastic kit makes one Morbidex Twiceborn riding the pox maggoth, Tripletongue. Clad in corroded Chaos armour and armed with a great weapon, Morbidex’s face is squat and horned and boasts a toothy, leering smile that resembles the grin found on the faces of the legions of Nurglings that follow him.
The full rules for using Morbidex Twiceborn in games of Warhammer are included in the construction booklet that accompanies the miniature and White Dwarf Issue 38.
Alternatively this kit can be assembled as Bloab Rotspawned or Orghotts Daemonspew.
From afar, the chaos sorcerer Bloab Rotspawned appears to be constantly surrounded by swarms of unnatural insects. Only his fellow warriors in the Icehorn tribe know that Bloab is in fact the swarm, and the swarm is Bloab.
This 73-piece plastic kit makes one Bloab Rotspawned riding the pox maggoth, Bilespurter. Clad in corroded Chaos armour and armed with a great weapon, Bloab’s status as living vessel of Father Nurgle is depicted in every part of the miniature. His face is bloated and swollen by fat, wriggling maggots and daemonflies billow about him like a cloak.
The full rules for using Bloab Rotspawned in games of Warhammer are included in the construction booklet that accompanies the miniature and White Dwarf Issue 38.
Alternatively this kit can be assembled as Orghott Daemonspew or Morbidex Twiceborn.
Lords of Icehorn Peak Web Bundle £138
The pestilent arrival of the Maggoth Lords promises to bring the joys of plague to the civilised realms of the Old World. The horrors unleashed by Nagash will seem nothing more than an inconvenience when compared to the havoc Grandfather Nurgle has in store.
This bundle contains three plastic Citadel miniatures, including: Orghotts Daemonspew, Bloab Rotspawned and Morbidex Twiceborn.
Warherd of the Rotspawned Web Bundle £168
The unclean brutes appear to the men of the south as a nightmare made real and set free upon the world. The ground shakes to the thunder of a countless hooves as the army of beasts closes in.
This bundle contains 55 plastic Citadel miniatures, including: 1 Great Bray Shaman, 20 Bestigors, 30 Gors, 3 Minotaurs and 1 Cygor.
The Twiceborn’s Daemon Host Web Bundle £170
As the plague-kissed muster in their masters name, they rejoice in the knowledge that they will bestow the vile gifts of Nurgle upon the clean-limbed wastrels of the south.
This bundle contains 43 plastic Citadel miniatures, including: 1 Herald of Nurgle, 30 Plaguebearers of Nurgle, 6 Plague Drones of Nurgle and 6 bases of Nurglings.
Daemonspew’s Host Web Bundle £198
From the north, foul hordes flock to the banner of the Three-Eyed King. Led by an unholy champion, they march upon the south, eager to plunge their blades deep into the heart of the civilized realms.
This bundle contains 52 plastic Citadel miniatures, including: 1 Gutrot Spume, 20 Warriors of Chaos, 20 Marauders of Chaos, 10 Putrid Blightkings and 1 Chaos Warshine.
I don’t even know where to start with these beautiful, grotesque Lords of Nurgle riding their foetid love-children of Graug, Rancor Beast and Nurgle-Daemonic goodness!
The names are as ridiculous and divine as the detail on these models and I absolutely love them!
This is probably the spot to say that for the sake of this assignment I made a good faith effort to read these books at my city library, but I wasn’t self-punishing enough actually to finish them and had to stop the agony halfway into the second volume. Dreck of this stupendous caliber has a particular advantage over literature in that one doesn’t have to read all of it to surmise, accurately and eternally, that it is all uniformly awful and awfully uniform—romance novels, like racists, tend to be the same wherever you turn. It’s pointless to spend much time impugning these books as writing because they really aren’t meant to be considered as actual writing, the same way a Twinkie wasn’t meant to be considered as actual food. Books ejaculated this easily have the inverse effect of being extremely difficult to read. Leonard’s creations are the cartoonishly erotic suppurations of a hamstrung, not terribly bright adult trying to navigate a midlife crisis, and you get the feeling that the sentences arrived on the page as if by osmosis, unaided by even a sub-literate serf.
William Giraldi in The New Republic, in what is one of the most loathsome texts I have read in some time. It’s a review of Hardcore Romance, a book about the Fifty Shades phenomenon.
If anyone ever wonders why I don’t tend to engage in “value criticism”–especially of culturally marginalized or devalued texts–this is the answer, right here. When I do, it tends to be in the service of positive judgments, explaining why I think something is good rather than the opposite. I also try to explicitly define and explain my criteria for making these judgments.
It’s not that I’m incapable of being nasty and acerbic on the subject of writing (I’m reining it in quite a bit here) or that I don’t somewhere believe my own judgments to be absolute (I think this article is absolutely valueless). I think I know what good writing is–and I can explain what I think it is, I do that for a living. But I also am grown up enough to know my judgments aren’t, actually, absolute, and that somewhere, someone else is judging by different criteria.
If I think a text is “bad” writing, then people who think like me are likely to see it that way already. What do we imagine to be the critical project of a piece like Giraldi’s if not to lead a kind of orgiastic circle jerk of disdain around an already devalued work? Is it going to persuade any 50 Shades fans they were wrong? No, though it might shame them for their enjoyment, and indeed, that seems to be a major goal of Giraldi’s piece. But it’s not going to change any minds or point out anything anyone has missed, which is my preferred role as a critic.
There’s more to it than that, though. If you ever wonder why feminist scholars are skeptical or even antagonistic towards discussions of literary value or “quality”–this piece could act like a crash course. It’s like an extreme limit case of the kinds of misogyny that are usually more veiled or occulted in discussions of literary value that substitute hyperbolic scorn or praise for any kind of specific textual or rhetorical analysis.
Color: Green, blue, yellow, orange, clear, brown, pink, gray, red
Appearance: Translucent and waxy, often banded (may be acid-treated to enhance color), all sizes sometimes tumbled
Source: US, Britain, Belgium, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Peru, Iceland, Romania, Brazil
Healing: Calcite cleanses the organs of elimination. It encourages calcium uptake in bones but dissolves calcifications, strengthening the skeleton and joints. It alleviates intestinal and skin conditions. Calcite stimulates blood clotting and tissue healing. It fortifies the immune system and can encourage growth in small children. Calcite works quickly as an elixir and can be applied to the skin, ulcers, warts, and suppurating wounds. At a subtle level, calcite cleans and regenerates the chakras.
Blue calcite is a gentle stone for recuperation and relaxation. It lowers blood pressure and dissolves pain on all levels. Gently soothing the nerves and lifting anxieties, it releases negative emotions. Used on the throat chakra it aids clear communication, especially where there is dissent. Blue calcite can absorb energy, filter it, and return it to benefit the sender.
Clear calcite is a “cure all”, especially as an elixir. It is a powerful detoxifier. At a physical level it acts as an antiseptic and at subtle levels it cleanses and aligns the chakras, higher and lower. A clear calcite with rainbows brings about major change- it is a stone of new beginnings. Clear calcite brings the gift of deep soul healing and revitalization of the subtle bodies. It opens and clears the inner and outer eyes.
Gold calcite is excellent for meditation and for attuning to the higher mental planes. It instills mental alertness as it grounds the higher mental energies into the physical realm. Place on the navel or crown chakras.
Green calcite is a mental healer, dissolving rigid beliefs and old programs and restoring balance to the mind. It helps in letting go of what is familiar and comforting but which no longer serves, and aids communication and the transition from a stagnant to a positive situation. Green calcite helps children to hold their own in debates. It is a powerful stimulator for the immune system and is especially useful in grids. This stone absorbs negativity and rids the body of bacterial infections. It ameliorates arthritis and constrictions of the ligaments or muscles and is helpful in bone adjustments. Its green ray cools fevers, burns, and inflammation, calms the adrenals, and soothes anger-generated dis-ease. Green calcite placed regularly on the body absorbs dis-ease and should be cleansed thoroughly after use.
Orange calcite is a highly energizing and cleansing stone, especially for the lower chakras. Orange calcite balances the emotions, removes fear, and overcomes depression. It dissolves problems and maximizes potential. This stone heals the reproductive system, gallbladder and intestinal disorders such as IBS, and removes mucus from the system.
Pink calcite is a heart crystal in contact with the angelic realm. A stone of forgiveness, it releases fear and grief that keep the heart trapped in the past, bringing in unconditional love. It aids self-worth and self-acceptance, heals nervous conditions, and lifts tension and anxiety. This stone prevents nightmares. Pink calcite’s loving energy gently dissolves resistance. It is helpful for anyone who has suffered trauma or assault.
Red calcite increases energy, uplifts emotions, aids willpower, and opens the heart chakra. It removes stangant energy, including constipation, and dissolves blockages. It resonates to the base chakras, which it energizes and heals. It alleviates fear, bringing understanding of the source. Res calcite’s vitality energizes a party. At a physical level, it heals hip and lower limb problems, loosening up joints, and on a subtle level it removes the blockages that prevent you from stepping forward in your life.
Yellow or Golden calcite is a great eliminator and stimulates the will. Its energy, especially as an elixir, is uplifting. It enhances meditation, inducing a deep state of relaxation and spirituality and linking to the higher mind. Use at the crown and solar plexus chakras. Golden calcite has an extremely expansive energy.
will’s turning to be a better lucifer than hannibal ever was and i resent the shit out of any assertion that he’s turning into him
will’s learning how to be a grand duke of lies- he lies to jack lies to hannibal lies to freddy, he’s laying a web down and setting his traps to turn the faithful against god (and in this awful suppurating tumor of a universe hannibal is most certainly god) but like any true functioning dyed in the wool lucifer, he can’t get anybody to do anything that isn’t in their nature to do. consent is king. it always was and always will be. will graham is not in the business of creating more victims, and jadis was first and foremost the hangwoman of the emperor beyond the sea.
look what he did to the orderly. the orderly was an evil man with an evil nature, and will lied him, he lifted him up and mounted him on that rack of antlers, but he never, not ever, maneuvered that man into doing anything it wasn’t in him to do. will graham has fallen from god’s graces and he is doing everything in his power to turn the souls of men against him, but he’s doing it right.
“Fuck real life”, a phrase Meishi often uses to describe the divide between digital and physical interaction, but after speaking with them I learnt that it was more of a philosophy and a way to validate relationships made through the internet. They constantly work against the grain in this sense; down to the very nature that their music is showcased and shared. After releasing their first full length album “LUST” in January they’ve gotten a lot of much deserved buzz. I’ve had the pleasure of interviewing Meishi in order to find out a little bit more about their music, their very own label ZOOMLENS, and their future plans. Read Destinationtokyo3’s first official interview under the cut!
Sickness with its floating moustache
Hovers over me
Each time my eyes meet under the table
Its long musical hand
Stuffs itself between my breasts
And strangles my abscess
In an egg
My nose runs like a sewer
My hair falls with sadness
And the stinking smell of voluntary humiliations
My legs fly higher and higher
Open shells smooth fur
Inviting tender mouths
Scissors sea-horses with voracious claws
Share their delights
Their smiles their clothing
And their childhood pimples
Bonnibel sleeps some, in snatches. Marceline keeps a vigil over her until she conks out too. Near dawn it’s Bonnibel shaking her awake, papping delicately at her cheeks to say, “Marcy! Marcy, help me.”
“Snuh?” Marceline sits up. Her eyes go immediately to Bonnibel’s arm. She’s ready for it to look like a weird alien parasite again—she’s even ready for it to have succumbed to infection, to be covered in seeping open sores and to smell like spoiled, suppurating death. A kindness: it’s fine. It still looks like overcooked pasta but beyond that it’s a normal arm, or as normal as an arm belonging to Bonnibel probably gets. “What’s it?” she says. “What’s wrong?”