@niceferatu / niceferatu.tumblr.com

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎Coffers, coffins, corpses that aren't dead.‎‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ A song crying out in the dark.

gonna be honest i don’t know how many more ‘enter the 6 digit code we sent to your phone’s i got left in me

every website forcing me to just hope and pray I retain the same phone number forever is a source of SIGNIFICANTLY more worry than someone stealing an account I could probably get back by calling customer service.

Stephen King rightly gets a lot of shit for frequently having his characters think and speak in pop culture references that only make sense if you spent your formative years in 1970s Maine, but I feel like articulating that particular criticism on Tumblr is something of a glass-houses situation.

Draw him alive and well. Ok now draw him playing sudoku

Now draw him struggling at sudoku in a manner that is no longer endearing and is now embarassing

Mammal in a Sunday Dress, by Georgina M. Cox, 2026

Mammal in a Sunday Dress explores the uneasy relationship between femininity, civilisation, and the animal body. At first glance, the figure appears modest and withdrawn. Her posture is composed, her gaze seemingly lowered towards her bare feet, recalling the conventions of nineteenth-century portraiture where women were often depicted as passive objects of observation. Yet as the viewer moves closer, the illusion collapses. Her eyes are not lowered at all. She is looking directly back. The delayed eye contact transforms the encounter. The viewer approaches believing they are safely observing a woman; instead, they realise they have been observed themselves. The work refuses the traditional power dynamic of portraiture, denying the comfort of anonymous spectatorship. Looking becomes a reciprocal act. For Cox, the painting considers humanity's persistent desire to separate itself from the rest of the animal kingdom. The title quietly undermines this distinction. A "mammal" is not another creature—it is us. The Sunday dress, rich with cultural associations of femininity, morality, and respectability, becomes an attempt to distinguish ourselves from nature. Yet clothing cannot alter biology. Beneath lace and ritual remains the same vulnerable animal body. The work also reflects on the historical relationship between women and nature. Across art, religion, and philosophy, women have repeatedly been positioned as closer to instinct, emotion, reproduction, and the body itself, while men have been aligned with reason, culture, and civilisation. Mammal in a Sunday Dress does not reject this comparison. Instead, it questions why proximity to nature has so often been treated as something lesser. Chiaroscuro isolates the figure within darkness, allowing the luminous dress to symbolise the performance of civilisation while the bare feet quietly return the body to the earth. Neither is presented as more truthful than the other. The painting exists in the tension between performance and instinct, refinement and biology. Mammal in a Sunday Dress ultimately asks a simple but unsettling question: if every layer of culture were stripped away, what would remain? Not a king. Not a saint. Not a gentleman or a lady. Only another mammal, looking back.

i get a $250 million production budget to adapt beowulf into a summer blockbuster and at the end beowulf is contemplating his reign as king in his old age and the passing of time and we hear some kids say something he doesn't quite understand and he says stoically "it's as if the English i speak is becoming old..."

Mercenaries at the tavern are always laughing at me saying "He hasn't the stones!" and I know they mean balls but sometimes I feel like they mean the powerful elfstones that can grant any wish. And it's like well nobody has those

I've just received some distressing news

Migraine sufferers will be like "it's not like I'm disabled or anything, it's just that if I do any of these normal everyday things other people do all the time, my head explodes. But I'm fine honestly, as long as I avoid doing anything ever and my environment and the weather never changes, then my head explodes a little less"