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holy-mountaineering · 25 days

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Amor Divina, Writings on the Sexual Praxis of Ordo Templi Orientis (OTO).

This limited edition, rare Work of beauty was printed by the elusive Hell Fire Club in 2018 and includes writing by Aleister Crowley, Theodore Reuss, C. S. Jones, G. J. Yorke, Marcelo Motta & others.

I have this & many other fine occult books for sale. Topics ranging from Thelema to Psyonics, publishing quality ranging from limited edition gold embossed hard covers to zine format.

DM for more details.

#magick #occult #thelema #aleister crowley #hell fire club #rare occult books #ordo templi orientis #oto #thelemic #sex magick #pagan #witchcraft #occult authors #occult works #occult books

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upennmanuscripts · 3 months

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Everybody look at your hands!

Diagrams of hands from:

Ms. Codex 1663: For palm reading, f. 122r ff Ms. Codex 1680: For use in chiromancy, f. 77r Ms. Codex 1690: Hand of the Philosopher, p. 193 Ms. Coll. 390 Item 778: Manual and guide for a palm reader Ms. Codex 1248: Guidonian hand, f. 122r

#palm reading #palmistry #kaballah #chiromancy #magic #magick #occult #diagrams #rare books #book history #manuscripts

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hdslibrary · 1 year

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Magic, the Gathering

Another...interesting...find in the stacks. These images appear in a collection of writings about magic, witchcraft, and the occult. The editor/writer was Eberhard David Hauber, an 18th century German Lutheran minister. The information was gathered and published into dozens of individual sections, usually with a portrait and scattered other illustrations.

Hauber, Eberhard David. Bibliotheca acta et scripta magica : Gründliche Nachrichten und Urtheile von solchen Büchern und Handlungen, welche die Macht des Teufels in leiblichen Dingen betreffen. Lemgo: J.H. Meyer, 1738-1765.

#rare books #bookhistory #magic #occult #illustrations #18th century

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nyxshadowhawk · 9 months

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The Ars Notoria!

This is one of the grimoires of the Solomonic tradition of ceremonial magic. The Ars Notoria is technically part of the Lemegeton, but sometimes it’s treated as a separate text. I was expecting it to be in Latin, so I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was in English — very readable English, and in beautiful handwriting! It’s a translation of earlier Latin versions, but it has the feel of a personal Book of Shadows. A human wrote this. There are lines crossed off, words squeezed into the margins or added with little carrots.

This book is a great example of the fact that there’s a very fine line between a prayer and a spell. It mostly consists of a series of prayers and psalms, but it has some “voces magicae”-esque recitations of sacred names or multilingual incantations.

Did you know that hydromancy, pyromancy, and chiromancy count amongst the Liberal Arts? The Solomonic grimoires really make it clear how much magic is intertwined with the Liberal Arts (i.e. mathematics, philosophy, theology, grammar, rhetoric, astronomy, etc.). Many of the demons listed in the Ars Goetia teach these subjects (no wonder Faust was a scholar). The Ars Notoria says that you have to study certain liberal arts on specific days, just as you have to perform rituals on specific days and during specific planetary hours and so forth. And recite long mystical incantations before studying philosophy. Just like folk spells, these long prayers are supposed to have specific magical effects, like improving your memory and speech.

The Ars Notoria isn’t nearly as exciting as the Ars Goetia. I only found two magical figures in it. It took me way too long to realize that the mystical figures that surround the second one are, in fact, the alphabet. I guess that’s what you get when your grimoire is in English? Well no, actually. That figure actually demonstrates a handy spell that uses a magnetized needle (that’s what the symbol in the middle is meant to represent) to communicate with a friend at a long distance, using a method similar to an ouija board or one of those pendulum boards that you can get. As the needle turns, it spells out the message that your friend wants to send to you. Kind of interesting that this book includes a whole magical operation for something that we can do with our phones in an instant, and with much greater accuracy.

I looked up who Bernard Zufall was. Zufall was known for his ability to memorize anything, and had the largest collection of books dedicated to mnemonics, which was then donated to Yale University. He was more of a stage magician than a ceremonial magician. I’m not sure how or why he acquired an Ars Notoria, but I’m grateful that he did, because that means I get to see it.

#Ars Notoria #grimoire #manuscript #lesser key of solomon #solomonic magic #ceremonial magic #magic #occult #occultism #rare books #beinecke rare book and manuscript library #yale university

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more-than-a-princess · 19 days

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Some people swoon of over idols and actors.

Sonia swoons over horror movie villains. One of the many reasons her parents worry about her finding a suitable husband one day.

#more-than-a-princess draftcomm #(Sonia's occult collection worries them even more)#(She has a rare book collection of summonings and exorcisms)#(I'm trying to push through several replies tonight as I'm in con crunch mode for the next week)

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accultist · 2 years

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📗

PRACTICAL OCCULTIST AND PROFESSIONAL DESCENDANT. 📗 self.

WAGES CLERK AND WITCHFINDER PRIVATE. 📗 newton pulsifer.

AN ANTICHRIST. 📗 adam young.

AN ANGEL WHO DID NOT SO MUCH FALL AS SAUNTERED VAGUELY DOWNWARDS. 📗 crowley.

AN ANGEL AND PART-TIME RARE BOOK DEALER. 📗 aziraphale.

THE NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECIES OF HANNAH. 📗 ooc.

FOLLOW THY BLOG AND GOOD FORTUNE SHALL BLESS THEE. 📗 promos.

YE SHALL FIND A DOORWAY IN THE TOWN OF GREENDALE. 📗 caos verse.

AND THY FATE SHALL BE DECIDED BY PROPHECY. 📗 main verse.

THE MACHINE THAT WHISTLES TO THE TUNE OF A SONGBIRD. 📗 music.

SHE WAS A WITCH AND THEREFORE SENSIBLE. 📗 headcanon.

STUDY THY BOOK AND PRACTICE THE OCCULT. 📗 musing.

KEPT MEANING TO PUT IT ALL ON A COMPUTER. 📗 memes.

PROPHECY NO. 3008. 📗 answered.

WHEN THE WIND BLOWS THE BLOSSOMS REACH OUT TO ONE ANOTHER. 📗 newthema.

#PRACTICAL OCCULTIST AND PROFESSIONAL DESCENDANT. 📗 self.#WAGES CLERK AND WITCHFINDER PRIVATE. 📗 newton pulsifer.#AN ANTICHRIST. 📗 adam young.#AN ANGEL WHO DID NOT SO MUCH FALL AS SAUNTERED VAGUELY DOWNWARDS. 📗 crowley.#AN ANGEL AND PART-TIME RARE BOOK DEALER. 📗 aziraphale.#THE NICE AND ACCURATE PROPHECIES OF HANNAH. 📗 ooc.#FOLLOW THY BLOG AND GOOD FORTUNE SHALL BLESS THEE. 📗 promos.#AND THY FATE SHALL BE DECIDED BY PROPHECY. 📗 main verse.#THE MACHINE THAT WHISTLES TO THE TUNE OF A SONGBIRD. 📗 music.#SHE WAS A WITCH AND THEREFORE SENSIBLE. 📗 headcanon.#STUDY THY BOOK AND PRACTICE THE OCCULT. 📗 musing.#KEPT MEANING TO PUT IT ALL ON A COMPUTER. 📗 memes.#PROPHECY NO. 3008. 📗 answered.#WHEN THE WIND BLOWS THE BLOSSOMS REACH OUT TO ONE ANOTHER. 📗 newthema.

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woodland-gremlin · 6 days

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Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 6

First Previously AU Summary

“‘Even’ nothing. Now we are going to drop this, summon the new King, beg them for forgiveness and for them to deal with Trigon, and fix those disastrous laws!” Constantine declared while pulling out a book with a strange aura out of his coat pocket.

Red Robin internally sighed in relief. They were finally getting somewhere. He had been worried that they would be stuck getting integrated until Trigon was right on top of them. Not that it would stop them from getting questioned after the whole fiasco was over, but, small mercies.

From the way Batman was glaring at Supernova and Red Robin it was even more obvious that the Bat wouldn’t let it go. The only thing stopping him being the pressing matter with Trigon and the occult magician being very willing to yell at him if he kept poking. Though it did make Red Robin wonder how he planned to do so, it wasn’t like he lived at the manor anymore. No one but Alfred noticed that the only time they saw him was at the cave, and even that was rare. Really makes one question about the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ title that Batman held. Danny certainly doesn’t think so with all his nicknames for him, and after the last few years he was inclined to agree. You really shouldn’t meet your heroes.

The Laughing Magician worked and while watching him make the summoning circle Red Robin and Supernova were suddenly glad that neither offered to make it. If they did they might have never stopped getting questioned. Even Constantine would have probably joined them with how differently their summoning circle would be. While the con man made an intricate circle with the title of Ghost King being the main factor, with candles placed at significant points and fancy offerings, the two boyfriends had a much simpler approach. The biggest differences being name and title. They call Danny by name, which makes it significantly easier than a broad title to summon him. Add on to the fact that most of the titles that Constantine are using are only Danny’s by default the ease in summons is a lot easier. Though them being his boyfriends and offering snacks plays a big factor in it too.

The occult magician then began to chant in Esperanto. Candles began to flicker, changing to Relam’s green. The room’s temperature began to drop, frost creeping across the floor and walls. Wind that shouldn’t be possible in a space station whipped around, flipping Batman and Superman’s capes over their heads. A neon green crack appeared in the air above the summoning circle. Claws clutching the tear in reality before ripping it further.

Out from the tear in reality stepped out an ethereal being. White hair that moved like it was underwater. Lavender skin with freckles spaced out like constellations. Bright green lighting birch scars crawling over their body, cutting all the up to their brow. Eyes glowing the same erie color with the one the scar cut through being that singular color, sclera and all. A crown seemingly made of aurora lights and ice, radiating power. A fur lined coat seemingly made from space only added to the otherworldliness, A ring shaped like a skull, signaling the being as one of death. Armor with small dents here and there showing that it isn’t just for decoration. That this being that they summoned was a fighter, a King forged in battle.

Everyone but Red Robin and Supernova froze. They thought that they were prepared. They knew that they would be powerful, enough that they could rule over beings like Trigon. But no words could have prepared them for the aura bearing down on them. All their bravo was drained out of the minute they were subjected to the King’s presence. Aquaman was especially shaken. He was a King as well but he felt like nothing compared to the one in front of him. Like a big fish in a small pond thrust to face the ruler of the ocean.

“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.

To be continued . . .

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lizardsfromspace · 3 months

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The History Channel's decay into what it is now really stings compared to other channels bc its theme was so broad. You could technically do a special on the history of anything and it would fit. I mean, I know they once did a miniseries about the history of comic books, and I think one about stand-up comedy? Anyway they didn't have to dive so hard into unrelated reality shows about truckers

But also that's irrelevant bc what counts as a History Show is limited. When you say "history" you mean what King did what in a Old Year. Like famously they were so fucking obsessed with World War II, and specifically Europe and the Nazis (you rarely saw a doc about the allies or the Pacific front), that people casually called it the Hitler Channel. The pre-Ancient Aliens days of History Channel was typically HITLER AND THE OCCULT, THE NAZIS: CHILLING SECRETS, HITLER'S SECRET DIARIES REVEALED, Modern Marvels: Retracting Bridges, DEBUNKING HITLER'S SECRET DIARIES,

#television

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cryptotheism · 8 months

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Fourth shelf down, first book to the right of a book with a red spine.

One of the genuinely rare finds in my collection! This is the Clymer Occult Science or Hidden Forces.

Originally published in 1954, the text opens with a lamentation of post-wwii ennui, wondering if life is even worth living at all.

The text is a short catalogue of magical history, magical theories of the body, the stars, medicine, etc. The author, a Rosicrucian, provides a fascinating peek into Esotericism in postwar America. He openly grapples with the prospect of magic, attempting to find purchase in the rapidly changing social and scientific landscape. It is a relic of a time when damn near anything seemed possible, and the author ponders the value of many topics that may have seemed ridiculous ten years before.

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ghcstao3 · 2 months

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possibly niche AU time with something inspired by the game strange horticulture!!!

so. horticulturist!soap who has been running a small shop on the outskirts of a small, dreary town named undermere for years, since having inherited it from his grandmother—though, he’s really been there all his life, having taken great interest in the plants that his grandmother had kept. he’ll sometimes venture out in search of new fungi, herbs, flowers, because he has an insatiable need to learn, but ultimately he feels most comfortable in the small shop.

obviously, because he gathers new plants that he’s never seen before, soap must rely on research in order to properly identify everything and be certain of their uses and precautions to take. he couldn’t really say when it started, but a quiet, mysterious librarian who goes by the name ghost has always helped him with this. will even point him in the direction of certain growths, or very occasionally provide samples he might’ve collected on his journey to undermere, the rare times he actually visits and helps soap in person. and any information soap requests, ghost will do his best to track it down.

it’s a routine soap enjoys. and while ghost’s visits are few and far between, he cherishes every letter, every page, every book and every sample he receives in the post. soap thinks that maybe one day, he might even confess his feelings to ghost.

then somehow, some way, they’re both dragged into the world of the occult, getting mixed up in murder investigations, rituals, and the summoning of a powerful, immortal creature known as the servant. now, forced together more than ever before, ghost and soap have to rely on one another’s knowledge, they can trust no one but each other, in order to navigate these supernatural events and make sure everyone comes out alive at the other end of everything.

banishing a creature from hell would certainly be no easy task. especially not with the death and devastation it brings wherever it goes.

especially not when it begins to seem like ghost is hiding something from soap.

#>:)#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #alternate universe

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upennmanuscripts · 9 months

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Today is #RainsfordDay! Ms. Codex 1669 is a collection of works primarily focused on spirits and their sigils that includes numerous tables, drawings, and diagrams of magical symbols and their properties. Written in France, 18th century.

🔗:

#18th century #manuscript #paper #occult #spirits #sigils #france #magic #book history #rainsford day #rare books

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neil-gaiman · 1 year

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Hello Neil, I will find myself in London in a few weeks with extremely limited free time (work trip). Is there anything that a book-loving person absolutely should not miss? You seem like a man who would know.

The British Library is marvellous, and has events and displays that are fabulous: https://www.bl.uk/whats-on

Portobello Road Market always has some glorious traders in rare and interesting books.

Old and Rare Book Shops are really fun -- Cecil Court is filled with them although they tend to be a bit specialised (https://www.cecilcourt.co.uk/) there's even an Alice In Wonderland shop; there are still some regular second hand book dealers in the Charing Cross Road. The Atlantis Bookshop near the British Museum is filled with Occult Books; Sotherans, Jarndyce, Maggs Bros and Shapero are fancy rare bookshops, and I'm undoubtedly forgetting dozens more.

Also, the various New Book Shops often have excellent events on. Waterstones and Hatchards, Foyles and Daunts and the rest of them. In my day, Time Out was what you used to find out what was happening in the world of readings, signings and suchlike events. It's possible that their website still has that information. If not, google for it.

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marsprincess889 · 8 months

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JYESHTA

The battle, the loneliness and the cost of victory

Mercury ruled, Mars's sign.

A very lonely nakshatra indeed. Jyeshta means "the eldest" and it's also known as "the best". But what does that all mean?

To understand Jyeshta, we have to remember that it's fully in the sign of Scorpio. The previous nakshatra- Anuradha, also fully in Scorpio, is its yoni consort. Scorpio is the natural ruler of the 8th house of death, transformation and the occult. It's shrouded in secrecy, yet Jyeshta nakshatra still manages to be one of the most notorious lunar mansions.

Jyeshta's symbol is a round protective talisman or an umbrella. It's ruling deity is Indra- the lightning god and the king of the gods, who is covered in eyes and thus sees everything. The goddess associated with Jyeshta is Dhumavati- an old hag who's always hungry. Jyeshta natives are known for their success in the material realm, but little do most know that there's a lot more to it than that.

We begin the story of Jyeshta with a somewhat outcasted underdog. They're not that understood, they are independent by nature, and most importantly, they do not trust a soul. Why so defensive, some might ask, but that's the eyes from which Jyeshtas see the world. Despite humble begginings, they're usually not pitied or treated as a victim. Since they do not like asking for help, they rarely get it, and honestly, that's the way they like it.

The underdog enters the world stage, immideately attracting attention because they do not follow anyone else's rules, but rather- their own. They have their uniqueness that protects them. Combat by combat, they defeat each and every one of their opponents and soon are seen as a new threat. With that comes jealousy, with jealousy comes resentment and/or respect. With all that comes fear. Jyeshta's power is "to rise, conquer and gain courage in battle". The battle is life, but what does it mean to rise and conquer? How does one outsmart their opponents? The answer is you simply do not fight them.

When you view someone as an opponent you automatically set yourself up for losing. The opponents are equals but since you're an individual and since you know that you can't trust anyone but yourself, why would you play by their rules? Why would you equate yourself to them? Jyeshtas honor their own uniquness by protecting their energy (mercury rulership, very similar to Ashlesha) and learning their lesson from the previous mercury-ruled nakshatra- Ashlesha, they only engage in a fight with worthy opponents. Jyeshtas know they're only one worthy opponent for them and that's themselves. So, they just work on being better and better, not getting distracted by petty and unimportant squabbles, literally rising above the unnessecary conflict and thus conquering everything they rose above.

But is success all there is to life? Jyeshta is the survivor, always thinking about the next step and enjoying the independence despite being so widely disliked because of their difference, because of their uniqueness and success. Sure, they're content being themselves, but as natural loners they struggle with emotional intelligence, hence their reputation as insensitive jerks for masculine people or rude bitches for feminine people.

A Jyeshta story- The Queen's Gambit

I want to analyze a fictional Jyeshta story that has been brought to life on screen- The Queen's Gambit. The writer of the novel - Walter Tevis had Ketu in Jyeshta nakshatra. Ketu represents your stored primal creative energy, past lives, the past in general, the father's lineage and a person's daemon. A daemon is basically the opposite sex version of you who is the personification of your creative and sexual energy. Walter Tevis wrote about the archetype of a Jyeshta woman, making her the protagonist of his story. Considering that I haven't read the book, I'll analyze the Netflix series that it inspired.

Chess overall is a very Jyeshta game. It's a competitive sport but it requires concentration, intelligence, discipline, talent and skill. If you make one miscalculation, then you're lost.

SPOILERS AHEAD

Our protagonist, Beth Harmon, begins as an 8 year old girl who lost her mother and was taken to an orphanage. There she never looked at elders the same way that others did, having a critical mind and an independence and uniqueness to her that set her apart from others from an early age. She was exceptionally good at maths and unusually so, considering her age. One day, she goes into the basement and finds the custodian_ Mr. Shaibel playing chess with himself. She's immideately drawn to the game and doesn't leave him alone until he explains the rules. Since then, she's hooked.

She eventually leaves the orphanage, getting adopted by a childless couple at 15. She already thinks like an adult and treats her new mother's authority like it's nothing and she's not really challenged in that. Jyeshta is the stage where you're the authority, you're the only one who's responsible for yourself, you're the eldest, the wisest and that energy makes others want to depend on you in one way or another. It's where you find the strength in yourself to make everyone else submit. So, Beth started to earn money by playing chess. It's important to note that her new mother had a drinking problem and despite that, Beth didn't drink herself before she thought she deserved it. Only after achieving some success does she slowly start getting addicted to substances, her addiction increasing as her success grew bigger.

Being the best in the game was not exactly easy for Beth, as she struggled with her love life. Jyeshtas are often not concerned with the emotional aspect of life, despite having a certain sensuality to themselves. They're naturally closed off and because of that many people find them mysterious. They won't hesitate to to attack anyone though, but their every move is calculated and planned.

Beth was bullied at school and that's a common Jyeshta theme (see my The Princess Diaries post) but she never paid any attention to it and later we see the mean girl she was at school with living a completely different life than her- the one that she would not want. The scene perfectly captures the difference between the Jyeshta archetype and the masses. Jyeshta is focused on winning, defeating themselves and by that defeating their opponents so they have little time for anything else. In contrast, her high school classmate was married and with a child, living a typical suburban American life.

In another scene, we see her success and loneliness turn to arrogance and rudeness as she encounters and old opponent, friend and ex-lover who was living a simple life and showed his contentment with that. That shows a more negative and quite a sad side of the Jyeshta archetype.

She hits rock bottom, starts to lose her focus and at the last minute, when she has no money to fly to Moscow for the tournament, a helping hand comes in. We'll get into why she accepts that help.

Her helper was her childhood friend from the orphanage_ Jolene, who was snarky and honest to her from the start. It's very telling that she was Beth's first friend. Jyeshta is a full-circle moment, it's the growing into your own power after you've defeated your past self, after you've managed to move on from past pains. When Beth had had closure with Jolene and after attending Mr. Shaibel's funeral, she goes into the orphanage and enters the basement. She sees how he had all the newspaper pages about Beth taped to the wall. Beth breaks down and cries. After confronting the core part of herself, she accepts help from Jolene because she's already healed that part of herself, so she'll have no unwelcome ties with Jolene, only the one she chose. She's conquered herself from that time and now is free to rule it. The only thing that was left to do was to go out there and be herself, because after you defeat yourself, there's truly no one else to defeat.

She defeats the Soviet champion and and makes peace with all parts of herself. When she's about to leave Moscow Beth gets out of the car and takes a walk, truly enjoying life. With the war with herself behind, she remembered why she's so good at chess, because she truly loves it so much. She enjoyed the competition and the tension, she loved the battle. There was no reason not to, not when she was unafraid of being who she was. After all these combats, she realized that there was only one real enemy-herself, and defeating that enemy requires bravery, the strength to bear the hardship and skill, a lot of skill to survive and all of that based on cunning.

When you realize that, the world is your oyster. It's all a game, and it's your game, you're alone.

She sees a big group of old men playing chess with each other in a park. Beth stops by, and the men, recognizing her, invite her to play. Beth sits down, smiling, knowing they'll both enjoy the game she takes her gloves off and says...

If you liked this PLEASE like, comment or reblog, or even message me. If you have jyeshta or if you know them or if you like The Queen's Gambit, definitely let me know what you think. This was a bit stressful, considering my ketu is in jyeshta and it was not easy to dig into the deepest parts of myself. This series came out while i was going through a ketu antardasha that shook me to the core and it spoke to me so much. Anyways, thanks for reading, love you and take care 🤍.

#ketu in jyeshta nakshatra #vedic astrology #astrology #nakshatras #astrology observations #jyeshta #jyeshta nakshatra #jyestha nakshatra #jyestha #astro notes #sidereal astrology #sidereal zodiac #astrology tumblr

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cuubism · 6 months

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bookstore cryptid dream part 11 -- the kidnapping installment

“Whatever happened to that poetry book?” Hob asks one day, sitting with Dream in the living room. He’s not sure why it comes to him.

Dream looks up from his book on the history of chocolate, tilting his head in question.

“The cursed one,” Hob elaborates.

“Ah.” Dream closes his book, looking very serious now. “I locked it away, somewhere safe, suitable for books such as that.”

“Didn’t destroy it?”

“Releasing such magic can sometimes have… unintended consequences.” He shakes his head, as if remembering prior such instances. “Best to simply contain it.”

“How many books like that are out there?” Hob asks curiously. Every day, he learns some new thing about the world from Dream. And how dangerous some books can, apparently, be.

“There are a selection. They are rare. For most books, their power lies in the words themselves. No need for occult spells.”

“Huh.” Hob supposes that makes sense. “But you don’t lock those ones away?”

Dream shakes his head. “No. They can be dangerous, though.”

Hob is still wildly curious about these actually magic books. Not that he’d particularly enjoyed getting cursed, but still, he wonders if any such thing will ever cross his path again. He supposes he should hope not.

It is fascinating, though.

Dream is missing.

It isn’t like last time, when The Library itself had been gone. That had freaked Hob the fuck out at the time, but now, he knows what it meant — that Dream had felt The Library itself was under threat, and had locked it for safekeeping.

Now, The Library is still there. The door creaks open, unlocked, as Hob pushes on it, letting him into the tiny foyer and first winding halls of stacks. The selection changes periodically — today’s categories include HOPE & ITS DISCONTENTS, “Libraries” (rather meta, Hob thinks), Books of Emptiness (Hob takes one off the shelf out of curiosity and finds it, indeed, empty), and S P E L L S, most of which seem to be dictionaries, actually? Strange. But then, that is The Library.

This is the third day of Hob coming back to The Library in the hopes of finding Dream, and having those hopes dashed. Hope and its discontents, indeed.

Everything is in its place. But Dream is nowhere to be found. He hasn’t been coming home. His books are still on the nightstand, his cardigan forgotten on a chair in the cafe. His study is the same, too, cluttered with notes and journals, abandoned cups of coffee on desks and side tables.

It hurts Hob’s heart to look at, even more than finding The Library gone. The place feels empty without Dream there. As soon as Hob steps in the front door, he can tell Dream hasn’t returned, simply for how grey everything feels.

He hopes nothing’s happened, that Dream was just called away on some urgent errand in the middle of the day, when Hob was busy, and it’s taking him longer than expected to resolve it. Dream is criminally bad at using his phone, to the extent that Hob sometimes isn’t convinced he owns one, and might just have forgotten texting is something he can do. They’ll have to have a talk about that, because he’s giving Hob a heart attack, but still it’s the best case scenario.

But it’s the worst case scenario that’s swirling in Hob’s head.

Dream has disgruntled customers at times. He’d gotten into a fistfight with one, back when they’d first met. What if someone took their ire even further? Hell, what if the owner of that cursed poetry book came back for it?

Hob sighs, slumping into Dream’s desk chair. Even if something terrible has happened, he hasn’t the first clue how to go about finding Dream. He’s kept an eye out, while exploring The Library, for any indication of what could have happened, but to no avail. He’s well and truly starting to panic. The Library has doors everywhere. Dream could be anywhere.

His eyes land on Dream’s journals, still laid open on the desk. Normally Hob doesn’t pry into Dream’s notes. But these are dire circumstances. Hob’s going to lose it if he doesn’t do something.

He picks up the top notebook and reads the entry it’s open to:

— MG thought destroyed ack. lost 1916? JC report OAM magic picked up Sussex summoning what??

Hob groans. “Dream, could your notes be any more fucking unintelligible?” Apparently, his mind works too fast to write in full words, instead of just shorthand.

He flips through a few more pages of notes, skimming them, but not getting much. Then a few pages in, he finds a letter tucked into the journal. In someone else’s handwriting, it reads:

Dream—

You never use your goddamn fucking phone so here’s a note. You know I wouldn’t have to be so obscure if we could just use encrypted texts? Fucking luddite. Anyway. I found the damn thing. R.B. + Co. Pretty sure we’d know if they succeeded in using it so we still have time. I think I have a way in. If I retrieve can you neutralize it? AND FUCKING CALL ME WE’RE SHORT ON TIME!

—JC

In case you forgot how phones work: 020 9281 5555

Well, that’s something. The same JC from the notes? What exactly are the two of them trying to neutralize?

Hob has no idea. But at least he has a clue now.

Hob paces back and forth in his living room as he calls the number for “JC”, absolutely no idea who he’s going to get on the other end. But hopefully, they might know what’s happened to Dream.

“Hello?” A gruff woman’s voice answers the line.

“Hi, I’m looking for…” he doesn’t actually know her name. “…J?”

“What?”

“Look, I’m looking for Dream,” Hob says in a rush. Might as well lay it all out. “I’m his boyfriend. He’s been missing for three days.” Maybe “missing” is overstating it. But maybe it’s understating it. “I found your phone number in his notes and wanted to know if you’d seen him.”

“Likely story, pal,” she says with a scoff. “Dream keeps his boyfriend out of all the occult shit. And good thing, too. I wish I could keep myself out of it. What do you really want with him?”

It’s sort of gratifying that other people in Dream’s circle are also protective of his secrets, even if it’s frustrating in the moment. But, ‘keeps him out of the occult shit’? Exactly how much ‘occult shit’ is Dream dealing with on a regular basis?

“Exactly what I said,” Hob says. “He doesn’t usually disappear like this. His notes said you two were looking for something? Something dangerous?” Did Dream go after it? Is that what happened?

“MOTHERFUCKER!” she screams, and Hob pulls the phone from his ear with a wince. “I am going to KILL HIM!”

“Don’t hang up!” Hob yells before she can do just that. “Will you come meet me? I’ll give you my own address, if it helps. You know where The Library is?”

“The Library’s got multiple doors, mate,” she says, sounding marginally calmer now.

Right. Fuck. He gives her the actual street name this time, and she says—

“Be there in a mo’. Your idiot boyfriend’s got himself in a right mess I expect. Because he’s a fucking idiot.”

Just as Hob feared, then. “Tell me about it when you get here,” he says, and then, when she’s hung up, goes to gather Dream’s journals.

A smart, tough-looking woman greets him at the door to the cafe, which Hob’s closed for the time being, an hour or so later. “Johanna Constantine,” she says, sticking out a hand, which Hob shakes. “So you really are the boyfriend. Huh. Hob, right?”

“Yeah.” Hob isn’t sure whether to be touched or alarmed that Dream talks about him with his random occult acquaintances.

“He has a photo of you two on his phone,” Johanna explains. “Not that he uses it, the rat bastard. God I’m going to murder him when I find him.”

“Let’s sit down,” Hob suggests. He has coffee ready, more for something to do to still his restless hands while waiting than anything.

“Right,” Johanna says, as she sits down at a table. She gratefully takes the coffee he offers. “So, I’m choosing to trust you. If you fuck me over we will have a serious problem. Okay?”

Hob raises his hands in surrender. “I literally just want to find Dream. I’m worried sick about him.”

Johanna takes a long sip of her coffee. “Right. So. My business is managing occult stuff, yeah? Exorcisms and the like. Stopping it before it hurts anyone. I’ve been trying to track down this particular book. Spell book. Dangerous stuff. What it can do—doesn’t matter. It was thought lost for ages, or destroyed—wouldn’t that have been great. But Dream and I both wanted to get it off the streets, once it popped up again. There’s no good hands for that book to be in.”

“You two friends?” Hob asks.

“Eh,” says Johanna, “sorta. Mostly work friends, I guess. I first got Dream’s help with a spell book a few years back. He’s the best one to go to for that sort of thing, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Hob agrees, mulling over this whole side of Dream’s business he didn’t know about. It makes sense, though. Dream, the expert on all books. Even this book, whatever it is, must ultimately belong to The Library.

“And now he’s gone after this book,” Hob guesses. “By himself.”

“I told him I would retrieve it,” Johanna says, gritting her teeth. “All I wanted was his help locking the thing away after. But no. Had to do it all himself.” She sighs.

“It must have really concerned him,” Hob says.

“It concerned me!” Johanna exclaims. “All the more reason not to go alone! Idiot.” It’s said with fondness, though.

“So, what are we going to do?” Hob asks.

“We?” says Johanna, raising an eyebrow.

“Listen, I don’t care about the book—”

“You should,” Johanna says seriously.

“—Well, I don’t. But I do care about Dream. If he’s in trouble, then I’m not just going to sit here.”

Johanna looks at him appraisingly, then nods, satisfied. “Good,” she says. “I know who has the Grimoire, so I know where he’ll most likely have gone. How good are you with a cricket bat?”

“How about a knife?” Hob says.

She startles. “Christ. Alright, then. I won’t ask, but good.”

“Just tell me where to go, and I’ll be there,” Hob says seriously, and for the first time, she gives him a smile.

“I’ve been hoping for an excuse to give Roderick Burgess a good thrashing. Guy’s a prick. Alright, Dream’s boyfriend—let’s go get the stupid librarian."

It’s decided Hob should be the initial decoy because, according to Johanna, “people always think I mean trouble, and you have this sort of wholesome coffee shop owner thing going on. Knife skills aside.”

Hob’s not sure if it’s a compliment or not.

“He’ll definitely think he can scam you,” Johanna adds. That one’s definitely not a compliment.

So Hob goes to an event Roderick Burgess is hosting, showing off all his antiques. He brings with him an old book from The Library, ostensibly to “sell”. Forgive me, Dream, he thinks, as he pulls Magicks of the World off the shelf. Promise I won’t let him keep it.

It’ll get him in, he hopes. It’ll get Roderick Burgess’s attention, at least enough to let Johanna slip past. The book is proper old, nearly falling apart, and while it may not be actually magic, it at least is about magic. He hopes it’s enough.

“Remember,” Johanna says, as they’re stepping up to the door, “just keep his attention. I’ll search the house to see if I can find Dream, or the Grimoire.”

“You really think he’s keeping Dream hostage in this house?” Hob asks incredulously.

Johanna snorts. “If he thinks Dream can help him decode the thing? Yeah, absolutely. I told you. Guy’s a selfish prick.”

That seemed to be putting it lightly.

Hob isn’t sure he’ll be content with being the distraction if he finds out Roderick actually has Dream captive. But he calms himself for the time being.

Hob absolutely hates Roderick Burgess the second he lays eyes on him.

He’s managed to corner Burgess in the sitting room of the old manor house. His book in one hand, drink in the other. The man is fucking seedy. Hob could tell immediately, even if Burgess pretended at gentility.

Hob’s already decided that Roderick does have Dream locked in a room somewhere. Call it instinct.

Roderick gives Magicks of the World a look of cool disinterest as Hob hands it to him, but it shifts to grudging surprise. “This is actually old,” he says. “Unlike the fake crap people keep trying to pawn off on me.”

“I was told you had a discerning eye,” Hob says with false admiration. “1612. Genuine article.”

“Hm. This is of some interest,” says Roderick. “Come to my office.”

Hob follows him, hoping Johanna is having some success finding Dream.

Roderick’s office is much neater than Dream’s study. it feels like the affected study of someone trying to come acrossas a studious gentleman. Hob hates it.

And there on the desk is a thick, leather-bound volume that Hob knows instantly is the book Dream and Johanna have been looking for. He isn’t sure exactly how he knows. He isn’t at all magical. But he just knows. He can feel the eerie energy of the thing.

“I’ll give you six hundred pounds for it,” Roderick says, laying Magicks on the desk.

Hob startles. That’s actually a lot of money for a single book. Sorry, Dream, he thinks.

“Where did you get it?” Roderick asks.

“Old bookshop,” Hob says. “Don’t think they knew what they had.”

“They never do,” Roderick muses.

He hands Hob six hundred pounds, cash. Hob takes it, dumbfounded.

“Tell me,” he says, pretending hesitance. “I only know how to tell the age. How to know if it’s genuine. The magic stuff—that’s beyond me. How do you make sense of it?”

“I have my sources,” says Roderick. He seems to delight in being enigmatic. “There are… certain experts. If one knows where to look.”

Certain experts. Hob grits his teeth. “You willing to share a name? I have a few books myself I’d love to get better appraised.”

“I’m keeping that to myself for now. Trade secrets, you know.” He smiles to himself, meanly. “Valuable sources, those, in this business.”

Hob decides two things. One: he can definitely take down an old man. Two: he doesn’t care if he goes to prison.

He picks up a heavy statue from the desk and, before Roderick can react, cracks him across the head with it.

Roderick drops like a stone, and Hob snatches up both Magicks and the Grimoire, and flees.

Shit. That might have been ill-advised. What if Dream isn’t in the house, and Hob just caused permanent brain damage to the one person who might know where he is? Shit.

Nothing for it now. He hurries through the halls, books under his arm. He turns a corner, then another, and where the bloody hell is he? Then—

He nearly runs directly into Johanna and Dream.

Hob thrusts the books at Johanna, and takes Dream in his arms instead, pulling him into a tight hug. Dream hugs him back, pressing his face into Hob’s neck with a soft little sound.

He looks rough. His hair is a disaster—more than usual—and he’s wearing the same clothes Hob vaguely remembers him putting on that morning several days ago, before he disappeared.

“Hey,” Hob whispers, “I was really worried about you.”

“‘m sorry,” Dream murmurs, clutching at him.

“This was extremely fucking stupid, Dream,” Johanna says, in a tone that suggests she’s said so already. There’s worry there too, though.

“Yes, point taken,” Dream says.

“I love you,” Hob murmurs against his cheek, before pulling away to look at him properly.

There’s a bruise on Dream’s cheek that makes Hob very glad he smacked Roderick upside the head with a statue. More than that, he looks a bit… haunted. Hob will have to get more details later. Right now, they need to get out of here.

“Where the fuck is Roderick?” Johanna demands.

“I might have killed him,” Hob says, not feeling very bad about it. “Not totally sure.”

“No loss,” says Johanna, holding the books tightly.

Hob keeps Dream close. Dream is looking at him in wonder. Like Hob is the last possible thing he had expected to see. Freedom itself.

Hob kisses his forehead. And then they get the fuck out of there.

“You should really rest, Dream,” Hob says.

Dream is currently doing something to the Grimoire. Binding the pages. He doesn’t seem willing to let it go until he’s made the thing safe.

He sighs. “In a moment.”

“Dream…”

Dream finally puts the book away in a drawer in his desk, kneels before the desk, and draws some complicated symbol on the wood. Perhaps he had done the same with the poetry book, Hob thinks.

Though Hob suspects that the Grimoire is significantly more dangerous.

Finally Dream stands. He seems… a bit listless, now, having finished with the book. Even in the soft lighting of the Library study, the awful bruise on his face is stark, a deep plum mark. He looks at Hob, hands twisting together, expression vulnerable.

Hob’s heart hurts. He hopes he did kill Roderick. But now, he holds out his hands to Dream.

Dream steps over to him, and Hob brings him into an embrace. Holds him tight. Whatever determination had kept Dream going thus far seems to evaporate, then, and he sags against Hob, trembling slightly.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Hob murmurs against his hair.

“Yes,” Dream sighs.

He locks up the study, which Hob has never seen him do before, and then, once they’re downstairs, locks The Library’s front door as well. He leaves a sign that says, “Closed for the time being.”

Hob leads him across the street, back upstairs to his flat above the cafe, and steers him to the bathroom. He perches him on the edge of the tub as he turns on the tap and lets the hot water fill up.

Dream is still shivering a little. The poor thing is probably desperate for a bath, not to mention food, Christ.

“What did he want with you?” Hob asks, helping Dream out of his jumper. Dream winces as he pulls it off over his head, and Hob grits his teeth. “Did he hurt you?”

“He had been trying to use the Grimoire,” Dream says, as Hob kneels to help him with his slacks. “But there was a symbol he could not decode. My… approach… to try to take the book back was… not as clever as I had hoped, and I was intercepted. He demanded I translate it. When I refused…” he trails off. He’s naked now, and Hob can see a dark bruise stretching up his thigh, another working its way up his back and over his shoulder. “Well, he did not take well to being told ‘no.’”

“Bastard,” Hob swears, and Dream’s lips quirk up.

“Quite.”

Hob kisses the bruise on Dream’s thigh—if only that would do more to actually heal it—and Dream smiles faintly.

“What’s that book do anyway?” Hob asks.

“It’s meant to summon Death,” says Dream, and Hob feels a chill, like the universe itself is protesting that possibility. “I do not think it has ever been successfully used. But the magic is certainly potent enough.”

“Good thing you got it back, then,” says Hob. He helps Dream up, then supports him as he steps into the tub, sinking down into the warm water with a sigh.

Hob strips off his own clothes and follows him, slipping behind Dream and pulling him back to his chest. Dream leans his head against Hob’s shoulder.

“That was all very silly, you know,” Hob says against his cheek, arms wrapped around Dream’s middle. “I was very worried about you.”

“I am sorry,” murmurs Dream. “It was… poorly thought out.”

“Just a bit.”

“But,” says Dream, a hint of wonder in his voice, “you came to rescue me.”

Hob kisses his cheek. “Of course.”

“Hob…” starts Dream. “How may I say this… you are not exactly a rough type I would expect to be performing heists.”

“Hey, you don’t know everything about me,” Hob says indignantly. “Second, you’re a librarian, and you tried to break into the man’s damn house first. Thirdly—”

“And yet,” Dream interrupts, “you still came to help me. Roderick Burgess is a dangerous man. That was ill-advised.”

“Didn’t seem very dangerous when I smacked him in the head.”

“I am saying I appreciate it,” says Dream, with a little chuckle. “All the more so for the danger you put yourself in.”

“You’re my boyfriend,” Hob says. “I love you. Of course I came after you. Don’t be silly.”

He wishes he had gotten there sooner. He chokes up, thinking of Dream stuck in some room, uncertain of any rescue. He tucks his face into Dream’s shoulder, tears beading along his lashes. “Poor darling.”

Dream reaches up and strokes his hair. “I’d be curious to hear about your criminal past sometime,” he murmurs, which has Hob chuckling. “Did you really kill Roderick Burgess?”

“Dunno,” says Hob. “Hope so.”

“My boyfriend is more dangerous than I thought,” Dream observes, lips tugging up. He sounds quite satisfied about it, and Hob kisses the corner of his lips.

“If he comes back I’ll kill him again,” he says.

Dream shivers, leaning more heavily against him. “You’ve unlocked the two keys to my heart,” he whispers, and it’s only partly joking.

“Oh yeah?” Hob says, lips still brushing his cheek. “Violence committed on your behalf is one?”

Dream nods.

“What’s the other, then?”

Dream’s lips twitch. “Scones.”

“I’ll have to fulfill that one in a few minutes then, too,” Hob says, grinning.

“So you shall.”

“Would it make you doubly horny if I killed somebody with a scone?” Hob asks. “Or—?”

Dream turns around in his lap to kiss him, wrapping his hands around the back of Hob’s neck. Hob rocks back with the force of the kiss, leaning back against the tub. “Yes,” Dream declares, and gives Hob another peck on the lips.

“I’ll find someone to kill,” Hob promises. “You have anyone in mind?”

Dream giggles. Joy looks good on him, after everything. He tucks his nose in against Hob’s shoulder again, and Hob holds him close, runs a hand up and down over his back, careful of the bruises.

“I will think of something,” Dream promises.

Hob kisses his temple, and resolves to keep a closer eye on his boyfriend’s supernatural activities in the future.

And to buy Johanna Constantine a drink some time, too.

#dreamling #bookstore cryptid dream #even dream the cryptid librarian isn't immune to getting put in the bowl. so to speak #dream of the endless #hob gadling #the sandman #my writing #i've read through this many times hopefully there are no more typos XD

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