Yes. Exactly this.

Dee Nickerson, contemporary painter who explores themes of living in the countryside #WomensArt #FridayFeeling #ArtAdvent

Cold moon rising in the frosty sky

So tired for the last couple of months. Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurgh. (Yes, I know the medical reasons why, don't fear.)

A vaguely house shaped allegory for resilience, entropy and the endless war between hope and despair since the builders promised they'd definitely be able to start work on the repair job on the second Friday in October. In 1867.

Witchery is relationships. There can be no good relationship without listening. The witch attends the river not just to learn all it has seen as it has carved the land, but to foster a bond with it. For respect starts in hearing others speak their truths. – #EmilyCBanting, 1982 #WitchSky

Those living with a view of the cemetery of St. Mild Undershaft report seeing not phantom folk, but rather floating ghost lights, parading pillars of blue gas. Often these sightings cause a heightened discomfort for the dead dehumanised are revealed as truly distant. – #CJosiffe

"Please, call me Yog-Sothoth. Yogurt Sotheby-Otherton sounds so formal."

At Lammas, the borders of Faery expand. They enfold. They entangle. To walk the edge of the field is to risk accidentally crossing into those silvered lands with two moons and unfamiliar stars. No wonder it is regarded as a date of disappearance. – #CLNolan #Lammas

2/5

"Hoof and horn, hoof and horn, All that dies shall be reborn. Corn and grain, corn and grain, All that falls shall rise again." Blessed Lughnasadh friends🌾 #Lughnasadh #lammas #harvest

I "do not care" what happens when you mix Brotato with Mad Max. I am a "Crazy Man". I am unstoppable.

29/7/25

Some weird shoes for Lilibat. Now she'll say these aren't weird. lol But you can wear long skirts with these, right?

Goodnight from Mall Drinkwater, unable to understand why the aliens who attempted to abduct her smelled so strongly of vinegar. Goodnight from Celia Hebburn, making waning crescent pilgrimage to The Angel’s Grave menhir to leave a posy of cornflowers and vetch. Goodnight from Hookland.

Dropped into Hotel MANDI recently?

The villagers of Malford St. Mary have said: 'Sard that!' to polite traffic signs begging motorists to reduce their speed. Now they just paint the ghosts of anyone killed by a speeding car on their walls as a reminder that bad driving has consequences that haunt for decades. #RoadSafety

We are all made data ghosts. All extras in the unending film of the city that no-one watches. Only ever seen when someone fast forwards to the gruesome bits.

Remembering that time David Hasselhoff was appearing in the London version of the musical Chicago and every night someone heckled him with: “Hasselhoff. Oi Hasselhoff. You’re nothing without your robot car.”

Goodnight from The Grange nursing home, where the ghosts are complaining about how crowded the lounge has become since the hot spell started. Goodnight from Samantha Bly, making a chain of flowers to lay on the grave of her recently drowned doll Anthea. Goodnight from Hookland.

In the essence of your empty field is the resonance of your future.

I imagined the Chatsubo in 1984. 41 years later I opened its door. Neuromancer is in production.

The last drop of the old Smaug vintage -- Hong Kong's "Monster Building", in 2018.

Goodnight from Chrissie Hardy, walking from Bowl Barrow to The Old King’s Court stone circle as an act of solar alchemy on solstice eve. Goodnight from the Shelby sisters, weaving chaplets of daisy and St. John’s-wort for tomorrow’s dancing of the rings. Goodnight from Hookland.

Human Artists! Use one piece to convince people to follow you ✨ #украрт #art #digitalart #draw #drawing #illustration

Happy release day to Quilting Points. You'd expect me to say nice things about this because they're my friends and there's a recording of a traditional Hookland folk song on the album, but everyone knows I'm too old and grumpy to be anything other than accurate, so I'll just say for now: bloody fab.

Goodnight from Ray Meadows, beginning to take Mad Barry’s claims of missing time much more seriously after driving the feral edge of Barrowcross. Goodnight from Jemima Cade, tying tight knots on the bag of ill luck that’s to be thrown into the River Stannis. Goodnight from Hookland.

Cloud Optica by the Mothwing Collective @merepseud.bsky.social

It's really creepy when you find lipstick on one of your glasses, but nobody in your family has lips.

Goodnight from Childerstone Common, where police officers’ torches carve the night in desperate search for young Luke Keys. Goodnight from John Nalder, waiting for national anthem closedown so he can search for the TV signal he’s convinced aliens broadcast on. Goodnight from Hookland.

Oh my...

Craco, Italy by /u/WhimsicalRuins

"Esse lugar causa desconforto" ('This place causes discomfort') by /u/Soma_Or

"The Un-home ... When the kitchen chairs start assembling themselves, when doors open on their own, when the crucifix on the wall turns upside-down, our home reverts to its unfamiliar state before it was claimed; it turns back into a house."

Some Sunday strangeness: In 1642, the sound of military drums emitted from a well in the Warwickshire hamlet of Hill Wooten. The drumming continued for 14 days then stopped, only to restart in 1660 and 1669. No source for the noise was discovered.

Meanwhile - one of the nice things about the dead fridge going tomorrow is drawing rude clowns on it

Goodnight from Colour Sergeant Bowerman and Corporal Badrock, sharing a bottle of Daw’s Apple Brandy and pouring out ghost libations for old comrades. Goodnight from Lizzie Moss, embroidering a silver-thread toad bone onto her garnering bag. Goodnight from Hookland.

"Brás-SP" by /u/matheusxxsaw

Snowshill by /u/Acrobatic_Put9582

18/4/25 - nocturn

What did Joe think of them? “If that was their food, God help ‘em, because I took a bite of one of ‘em and it tasted like a piece of cardboard. And, if that’s what they lived on, no wonder they’re small.”

A kind reminder it’s today it is, the space pancake day. It’s 64 years since a bunch of Italian looking aliens (“They were darker or more swarthy, like Italians.") in a metallic flying saucer landed in Eagle River and offered Joe Simonton some kind of pancake-ish food. #spacepancakeday