Hi I absolutely love your art :]
Hehehe thank you so much! it really means a lot to me :)
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@m00n-hal0
Hi I absolutely love your art :]
Hehehe thank you so much! it really means a lot to me :)

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Latest twitter log. It's been a while, hasn't it?
another cat nene. You guys liked the last one!
Here for my monthly "hi i am still alive" post, featuring surv nathaniel from blender
i would love to ramble abt nathaniel norwell with you sorry if im late to the party i barely log into this site. pls tell me about how you portray his personality, i like seeing how people portray him differently
its okay <3! im also the slow replier so u are not late at all dw
i had an old nathaniel personality post here but some things have developed a bit for me since then so i will go over what i think of him right now 🤔
You'll have to excuse me bc I'm typing this from the laboratory right now so i might be all over the place sufiwkfowjd. I went back to the older post to read it too because I'm a SUCKER for lore analysis (my twt is filled with it) so since you asked!! Here's some of mine!
Absolutely a sucker for the nature/nurture aspect of both nathaniel and ithaqua's lore. This aspect of their duality is shown even with Helel and Nebuchadnezzar*; Nathaniel is a product of his enviroment. As twins they'd be considered by many as "the same", yet their upbringings shaped them into completely different people. Ithaqua is caring and altruistic, Nathaniel is power hungry. Being "evil" is not "coded" in human nature.
*And in an universe where they do grow up together, Helel (Ithaqua) is just as bad, if not worse than his brother. Helel is cunning and manipulative, hell he pretended to be a prophet to trick people into joining his rebellion to overthrow his brother to get back at him.
Just like you I don't think Nathaniel is Inherently evil, maybe I'm repeating myself but growing up in a sect made him have a very skewed perception of what is right and what is wrong, since it's all he's ever known.
Completely agree with the twins looking more like Janet than Noel (personally how i refer to his dad) - the stageplay made me think this way and its been a favorite since then fjnrfikwodne even though he looks like damn giovanni pokemon there.
^^^ ADDING TO THIS Nathaniel is extremely subordinate to his father. Something i got from the stageplay too, he seems to put his opinions on a pedestal and treat his word as gospel.
Being a priest wasn't inherently his idea - the norwells already have power in their hands with Noel being the magistrate, and in the 18th century the church still had significant political power. It's less of a pious calling than it is a move to keep the power in the family (but he still does somewhat believe in god and stuff)
Draco Malfoy™️. Whenever he is asked about what *he* wants, he will always answer with "My father wants" "My father would've wanted", he really seeks his approval and personally it could be why he is sometimes impulsive, ex. Going head on into the expedition to capture Lagertha
I ALSO DON'T LIKE THE THOUGHT OF NATHANIEL BEING SADISTIC. GOD it's so eygdund i don't know. I feel like it makes his character shallow. Do I like Nathaniel shallow? Yes, in the sense that he prioritizes how people can benefit him vs their value as people, not as in a character with little substance to him.
Nathaniel is left handed. Something i noted on my twt once but he seems to favor holding things with his left hand, and waning crescent's severed finger is on his left hand. If it was to punish an alchemist for their transgressions, they'd lean towards severing a finger from the dominant hand... severing one from the non-dominant hand wouldn't make much impact (source: I'm a pharmacist)
^^ adding to this it is ironic that back then left-handedness was considered as a sign of witchcraft. Adding to the irony of the norwells not fully sticking to their own beliefs, rules for thee but not for me type of thing; or ALSO that Noel would willingly look the other way to ignore Nathaniel's wrongdoings because they're family.
Also because of Crescent, i think he's very family oriented. Helios despises Crescent for being in the spotlight their entire life even though cres taught him everything he learned from arya's grandfather, but even then he tries to keep a relationship with helios, even though it is strained. They only have each other, and he doesn't want to lose his family.
Personally my trans nathaniel is also another instance of both noel looking the other way when it comes to his son & yet ANOTHER power move on that bastard's part - it wasn't uncommon for families to *hope* to have a male heir, so their surname would continue on. If nathaniel didn't decide himself he wanted to present as a man and noel was like "say less", there would prob be a gwyndolin-esque dynamic of him being raised as a boy *because* of the norwells wanting a male heir, as fucked up as that would be
Speaking of his parents, i think Janet is distant when it comes to him. Having a stillborn can severely impact the mom's psyche and having to pretend everything is fine while keeping all those feelings bottled up + looking at the face of her son who is identical to her baby that just died made her resent him. It wasn't uncommon for twin babies to have one of them die because of the "stronger twin" absorbing the "weaker twin"'s nutrients in the womb, so she believes it's his fault somehow.
I absolutely do NOT believe that man took a vow of humility when becoming a priest, not when noel is his father. That man has a damn allowance and i know it
I like to think he is two faced, as in he is overly nice to people but never smiles with his eyes. He's basically regina george and i like to portray him as being very shallow of a person and ignorant in a rich kid kinda way. He doesn't do it because he wants to be mean he just comes off as out of touch by default (love quoting this video in specific saying its nathaniel)
Idk why i cant remove this bulletpoint?
Annnndd now this starts going ooc because it relates more to my hunter nathaniel (seraphim), but i really resonate with the idea of nathaniel not fully believing his preachings. After Seraphim died (survived ithaqua's attack, only to be buried alive) he started to doubt the mercy of god since in his eyes, he was the epitome of holiness yet when he needed god most, he turned his back to him. He thinks of himself as a god just like gabriel from mandela catalogue does - even his hunter title as seraphim is ironic because seraphims are the highest rank of angels, often having 6 wings, but the statue he possesses only has two wings + they're tied with barbed wire.
For anyone wondering what the fuck im talking abt im talking about faggotron 9000 over here. Ignore my sona duct taping him that was a birthday gift for myself
And i think thats it i can only procrastinate in the labs for so long!!! Your portrayals were a joy to read through i even went so far to going to the older posts to read more on them ^^

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least ooc sarcophagid fanart
DEMI BOURBON 🥃
The coa ento I drew bc she won my twt poll :3 Im fonna buy her skin for sure
yall will never believe what im cooking
pov you're the last survivor

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i'm alive
does grace have any skins where she rocks twin braids instead of the usual one cuz it’d be sooo cute if she had one
lantern
redraw cuz brazilian tiktoks my beloved
ft venetus (@zombiepaper-woah)
Twitter seemed to like this one soo!! Hey guys im back. One more episode of turning nene into little cats

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The 1969 Easter Mass Incident
Content Warnings: Religion, food, symbolic cannibalism, symbolic gore, penis mention, Blasphemy, SO MUCH BLASPHEMY, weapons, war mention. Mind the warnings and your health always comes first. Its a HILARIOUS story, I promise.
As always, all the names have been changed to protect people’s identities. This is a long one, so Press J now if you want to skip it.
When my dad was a young man and still a practicing catholic, he participated in a small church communion that nearly got him and six other people excommunicated.
Father Patrick ran a small church outside of California Polytechnical and tended to be… rather more liberal in his interpretations of scripture than most of the church was, which made him something of a hit with the local students and liberally-inclined populace. Pat went to all manner of civil demonstrations, condemned the shit out of the vietnam war and the politics that lead to it and so on. In January of 1969 a series of incidents lead him to start exploring “nontraditional” means of holding Mass as a means of reaching out to his community and exploring his own faith, which ultimately culminated in the 1969 Easter Mass Incident.
For those of you who weren’t raised catholic, Communion is this ritual where you become one with Jesus by eating a really horrible bland wafer cookie and taking a shot of wine (called hosts), which then *literally* become the flesh and blood of jesus in your mouth, allowing him to become one with you. It’s big McFucking deal, and you have the opportunity to take communion at every mass. All this had to be explained to me second-hand because after this and Dad’s 51 days in the army, Dad decided he wouldn’t inflict religion on any children he might have in the future.
*
“Hey dad,” Six-year old me asked the first time he told me this story after my practicing friends were talking about getting wine at church. “Isn’t that cannibalism?”
“We’re getting to that.” He waved.
*
The First Incident in January when, due to a serious cock-up by the church, all the hosts Father Pat received were moldering and spoiled and probably would have killed someone if he’d actually fed anyone them. But it was the first mass of the year, when a peak number of people came in after vowing to got to church more for new year’s. He couldn’t NOT have communion.
“I’ll bake.” offered Maria, the parish secretary and probably the best baker in the county. “So we have hosts. Jesus will understand.”
Father Patrick, not one to pass up the chance at Maria’s cooking, immediately agreed.
A Host is supposed to be composed solely of unleavened wheat flour and water, which is why they taste terrible. It’s a theological point of some importance relating to Exodus or something but Maria had an important theological counterpoint: Jesus both divine and loves all his children, ergo, Jesus would neither be a nasty bland cracker nor want his children to suffer as such and so instead, she made Mexican wedding cookies.
They were a SPECTACULAR hit. Many praises were heaped upon father patrick for the Much Better Wafers and that they’d be sure to show up next week as long as Maria kept making them. Father Patrick figuring that hey, anything that gets people in the doors is good and really, if it was turning into Jesus once inside the parishioner, did it really matter what the wafers were made of? So he continued to let Maria bake the Hosts, and encouraged her to try out new flavors, like nutmeg and cinnamon.
This went on swimmingly for a few weeks until The Bishop showed up for a surprise visit the same week Maria decided to experiment with rainbow sprinkles.
Dad remembers hearing the bishop through the windows roaring “THE HOLY BODY OF CHRIST DOES! NOT! CONTAIN! RAINBOW! SPRINKLES!”
The matter went clean up to The Archbishop, who decided that while Pat was probably right to not feed spoiled hosts to his parish, he should attend some remedial classes to remember what Communion was all about, so that if it happened again, he’s come up with a more suitable substitute.
Father Patrick returned in late March, full of spite and some fascinating new ideas.
*
“Is this where the Cannibalism happens?” Six-year-old me asked, eager to get to the good parts.
*
At his remedial classes, the teacher had stressed the importance of transubstantiation, aka “That bit where the wafer and wine, Actually, Literally, become the flesh of Jesus Christ and we expect you to swallow.” Also on the syllabus was understanding the importance of Christ’s suffering and sacrifice.
“So, I was thinking about Easter Service.” Said father Patrick one afternoon while dad was doing his computer science homework at the church because his dorm was a barely-standing fire hazard and the library was where you went to have sex.
“Well, we do re-enactments for christmas. Why not on easter? Why not re-enact the crucifixion of Christ right here? Make it real for everyone. Trauma’s great for bonding a community together.”
“Who’s playing Jesus?” asked Maria, always one for a good laugh.
“That’s the thing- A Host, it doesn’t look much like flesh, right? Doesn’t look like much of anything, really. Not great for reinforcing one’s belief.
What if, instead, we- and I mean you, Maria, I can’t cook to save my life- make a man-sized loaf of bread, maybe in the shape of a T, and we have some of the boys dress up as romans and whip the bread and we pour the wine on so it’s bleeding and them- then we make a big wooden cross and actually nail the bread to it with, I don’t know, railroad spikes, more wine all over. And we raise the cross, all while telling the story of the crucifixion.”
He paused to take a drink, Maria slowly crumpling onto the floor in horrified laughter and Dad now thoroughly distracted from his homework.
“Then we lower the cross, and invite everyone who wants to take communion up to tear a hunk of Jesus off. Just descend into his corpse like vultures. I think that’d really be a good bonding experience for the church.” he nodded thoughtfully. “The hard, part, I suppose, will be finding enough romans.”
“I WANNA BE LONGINUS.” bellowed my father, barreling into the room.
And so, the plan was hatched. Dad hit up every other guy in the Church and eventually rounded up four more romans, three of them from the Education Department of Cal Poly, and one guy from Chemistry, who just liked to watch things burn.
This, being a play, naturally meant that there was a rehearsal, and test Bread jesus. Maria had decided that if they were going to start being extra-literal, she needed to make the most lifelike Bread jesus possible, and made a distressingly buff and human-proportioned Jesus by Advanced bread-braiding, complete with plaited hair, quail’s-egg-and-raisin eyes, bready muscle groups, and an eight-pack because why not make the lord completely shredded?* She also made the important theological decision that since Jesus loves everyone and was happy to die in spite of all his suffering, he should be smiling, and had a toothy corn-kernel smile. He was Wonderful and Terrifying all at once.
“Maria,” asked Father Patrick after a few minutes of delighted and horrified cooing over Jesus’ toothy grin and abdominals. “Why is he wearing a tea-towel?
“Well, he’s the Son of God. A Man. With all that entails.” She said, pointedly staring at Father Patrick while everyone stared at the suspiciously lumpy tea-towel. “And he might have… burnt, slightly.”
Everyone nodded and agreed that the tea-towel was the best course of action. The rehearsal goes splendidly and everyone agrees that this is the most delicious Jesus they’ve ever had.
*
Easter Sunday arrives and the Church is PACKED, from the more lapsed Catholics showing up for a high holiday, parents visiting for spring break and a whole horde of newcomers who had gotten wind that something was up and they ought to come.
Dad is a lanky as hell 21-year old composed mostly of technical jargon and acne but he is STOKED to be playing Longinus, the roman that speared Jesus on the cross, because he gets to do the BEST technical effect in the whole parade. Since he came in at the end me missed a good portion of the sermon, but did hear the “oooh” from the crowd as the massive cross was dragged in by the other Romans, followed by horrified gasps and high screams and a discernible “What the FUCK” as they brought in Bread Jesus 2.0, whipping him enthusiastically, and hammering him into the cross, the sound of wine splashing onto the floor loud in the terrified silence of that Parishioners.
Finally Father Patrick gets to the part about Longinus, and Dad comes sprinting down the aisle as hard as he can, because in order for Bread Jesus to be seen by everyone, his middle had to be about 10 feet off the ground, so Dad had to run, shrieking latin curses, down the length of the church, with a big honking spear and take a flying leap at Jesus in order to spear him in the gut.
Please take moment to imagine you are some normal god-fearing catholic who has decided to visit little bobby or maybe patricia at college and you’re all going to church together like a nice family and this Fucking madman has decided to go all Silence of the Lambs on mass and now there’s some sort of underfed translucently pale man in ill-fitting Roman armor and cape flying at a horrifying glutinous effigy of your lord and savior, with an actual fucking spear, screaming like a madman. Don’t you feel yourself drawing closer to God already? Defensively, perhaps, like an octopus trying to ooze itself into a crevice against the horrors of the ocean.
However, two things happen that were not planned on
1. Dad misses. In his defense, Bread Jesus is close to but not quite the size of a man- more like the size of a doughy teenager, and his middle is a small target 10 feet up in the air and dad is has a computer science minor, not an athletics scholarship. He misses by about 8 inches and instead very solidly stabs Bread Jesus right through the groin, leaving a big hole in Maria’s tea-towel and the spear jutting out at a decidedly… attentive angle, as Bread Jesus’s Bread Dick drops to the floor with a splat. Nobody notices this, however because
2. In rehearsal, Dad had managed to get the spear right in jesus’s navel but neither Father Patrick nor the other romans could get the wine up there to make his middle appropriately bloodied.
Maria come up with the Genius solution that since wine is made of grapes and Jam is made of grapes, she could make a jelly-filled Jesus for Dad to stab. There was a normal-sized test loaf and when dad stabbed it on the table, it had a nicely gooey dribbling effect.
However, this time the loaf was torso-sized, still hot from the oven and upright, so when dad speared the very end of the loaf, all the steam-pressured jam had collected at the bottom and a spray of lukewarm smuckers exploded out from bread jesus, turning the first three pews into a splash zone of symbolic entrails.
There was a hot, sticky minute of complete silence in the church after that.
Then, Father Patrick indicated it was time for the cross to be lowered, and continued on with the normal preparations of the Host, he himself covered in hot smuckers, as though nothing particularly ordinary was occuring, quietly kicking the bread-dick under the altar. At the end of it all, Father Patrick and invited everyone up with the Last Oration:
“Thou, O God, has kindly allowed us to have a part in this Holy Sacrifice; for this we give Thee thanks. Accept it now to Thy glory and be ever mindful of our weakness. Amen.”
…And everybody came up, shuffling like terrified zombies, pinching off tiny bits at first but then the madness took them and they began tearing apart bread jesus by the handful, weeping as they partook, scattered prayers and begging for forgiveness. The whole congregation was kneeling about the altar, tearful and united in their guilt and their need for God.
*
“IS CHURCH ALWAYS LIKE THAT?” six-year-old me asked, absolutely stoked. I’d convert on the spot if I got a show like that.
“No, it’s normally bland wafers and lots of chanting in latin.”
“Well that’s boring as hell.” I remember muttering and Dad snorting the coffee he was drinking out of his nose.
*
As people filed silently out of the Church to a gloriously sunny California afternoon, faces wan and smeared with wine and jam, Father patrick turned to Maria and asked “You don’t think that was too much, do you?”
“No.” Said Maria with a sarcastic deadpan so intense it was hard to tell from sincerity.
It was the exact same tone she used when the Archbishop and Six other high clergy showed up, clutching a letter someone had written, Livid and almost foaming at the mouth, demanding to know if such blasphemy had transpired.
“No. That’s crazy.” She said, staring down the archbishop like he was an idiot.
“Such imaginations some people have!” Said Father Patrick, much less convincingly.
“And you- you didn’t… Spear an effigy of our lord and savior?” the archbishop demanded of my father.
“Do I look like I can jump that high?” Dad asked, having in the interim been drafted for 51 days then nearly died of pneumonia from it, and therefore no longer afraid of the Church, the Law or God.
Somewhat relieved that he’d only received the extremely detailed ramblings of a doddering parishioner, the Archbishop sat down and complemented Maria on her most excellent Mexican Wedding Cookies, may he please have another plate for his nerves? Perhaps the ones with sprinkles?
Dad went on to help build the internet, Father Patrick converted to Buddhism and Maria became a Nun.
*For those of you wondering, Jesus was made of Challah.
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