#New Year's Eve Bell

[aishiteru-kenshin]

Joya no Kane (除夜の鐘) at Zojoji Temple, Tokyo, Japan

Japanese people consider December 31st a very important day, and it's not unusual for people of all ages to stay up all night on this occasion. Buddhist temples chime out 108 bells in-between New Year's Eve and New Year Day. According to Buddhist beliefs, 108 is the number of passions and desires entrapping us in the cycle of suffering and reincarnation. So, the 108 bell chimes symbolise the purification from the 108 delusions and sufferings accumulated in the past year. Many of the temples have bells of their own, and the starting time differs. Usually, you will start hearing the bell ring from 8-10pm on the 31st, and 107 of them will ring during the old year. Oftentimes, onlookers will line up for the chance to sound one of the chimes on the bell. The last 108th bell will be rung on the moment the New Year begins, and people listen to the bell until the last vibration stops.

[sictransitgloriamvndi]

[onlythebravest]

ring klocka ring

translation & transcription below

I’ll say it again, I’m not great at translating shit so is this is just kinda correct and probably not great english either

klocka ringer = bell ringing

Interviewer: What will it be – [interrupted by a loudly ringing bell] like –[interrupted again] playing – [says while the bell is ringing:] here in Sweden?

Nylander: …

Interviewer: [says very quickly during a break of the ringing bell] What will it be like playing in Sweden? [bell starts ringing again]

Nylander: …

[bell continues ringing for the longest time yet]

Nylander: … [bell goes silent] … [short break in complete silence] No, it’s gonna be great

[libraryofva]

Recent Acquisition - Postcard Collection

Joyous New Year Greeting Postmarked December 28, 1908

[jupiterovprsten]

almost six months ago

[argiopi]

welcome to the bell parade

7  6 2 5  4 7 3  2 5 1  4 4 7 4  7 6 4 (when i was a young boy) 6 74 6 7 67 4 53 (my father took me into the city) 6 7 6 54 3 (to see a marching band) 4 5 7 4 764 (he said son when you grow up) 674 6 7 67 4 53 (would you be the savior of the broken) 6 7 6 54 3 (the beaten and the damned)

(notation is only somewhat reflective of timing lolz). the limited palette necessitates a bit of wrongness.. for instance the first B (third note) is supposed to be higher than the other notes but adapting to the lower B sounded better than using the only other higher note - the A7. alas, tis the nature of shits and giggles 🖤

[sam-spills-alot]

[orpheusterminals]

SATURDAY November 17th at Secret Project Robot Art Space 8ish

In the main Gallery: Return of the Masters + In the side gallery: Overboard 

Jason Robert Bell Blain Vandenberg

Chris Uphues Bridget Donahue

Robert Bell Steak Mtn.

THE RETURN OF THE MASTERS

Chris Uphues, Robert Bell, Jason Robert Bell

 The Masters are men who have completed the evolutionary journey that we are already engaging in. They have their retreats in the mountainous regions of the world. They have known for a long time that they would be required to return to the every day world of men to bring man to the next stage of human evolution.

These great beings appear once in every year at the Wesak festival in which they come forward and give out healing and inspiration as well as a stream of cosmic love from the one divinity known as God. At this time these

Masters will come into our lives and will transform our world.The Masters practice different disciplines and yet are all quite comfortable with each other. The Masters are concerned with the activities of the human race, and are making themselves transmitters of divine energy in hope that we may create a better world.

The Masters who are emerging will one day be in the majority but this will take many eons of time to manifest.Some of these incoming egos that are now in the process of incarnation are very advanced souls and may even be initiates and will later shine as the noon day sun in all of its glory

Soon we are to see the emerging of the World Teacher and so many people will be ready to tread the path of initiation.The first initiation will ,for a long time be considered a major initiation and will enable one to get in control over the forces of the dense physical

plane. 

At the second initiation we are then faced with the violent activity of the astral nature[or the emotional and this may take several incarnation to achieve as this is the most active level of work and needs to be dominated. Some souls will take many incarnations before he can be admitted through the gates of the second initiation for the student must at all costs dispel the astral mist that surrounds them.

Initiation is the gate way to a life more abundant and is the goal of all humanity in this world cycle. For the first time in many thousands of years the divine instructors once again will move and mingle with the human race as they did during the Atlante an time, and will be a time of great discoveries about ourselves as spiritual beings.The great mysteries of initiation will be known to the more advanced members of humanity as they themselves have tread the path for a very long time and are counted as the ones who can

be trusted with the holding of these secrets.There are at this time many who are on the very eve of the first initiation and this is why the ancient mysteries schools are to be established during this new age that we are now entering.

The teacher for this new age is the Master Robert Bell who is the embodiment of the planetary love of the solar and

human life waves.Some of these great ones who have come down the ages are for example,Jesus ,Krishna,the Buddha, Hermes,Yogananda,Dwul Kwull and so on.They have always come at the time of humanity’s greatest need ,such is the condition in the world at this time.Humanity is really sick and tired of all of the injustice in our world at this time and are ready at any cost work towards the establishment of a much more uplifting joyful experience. 

The Masters of Wisdom are the elder brothers of all humanity and love us all very much to the point that they will help us in any way that they can within the law of karma for they have been watch over all humanity for untold thousands of years and they know all about the situation that we are now in and will help in any way that they can.The Masters have always been teaching us about the laws of life and love and how to manifest our most beatiful dreams right here on this manbearing planet.

Over the next few years or so we are to see many of the Masters emerge from their ancient retreats and begin their teaching all over the world. The Masters are here to help us in the building of right human relations with each other and between the other kingdoms in the planet.There are as well about 500 initiates of the 4th initiation who will take the 5th initiation during this coming new age and many of them are along the 2nd ray of aspect which is that of Love Wisdom and is the major ray of this solar system.The bulk of

humanity are along this ray for all of this world cycle and will be for a very long time to come.

secrets@secretprojectrobot.org

Secret Project Robot is an installation and performance centered experimental art space that believes in creating a supportive environment which functions outside the usual commercial sphere where artists are free to experiment, create, and develop styles that aren't contingent upon their ability to sell.

210 Kent Avenue

[maypoleman1]

31st December

New Year’s Eve

Allendale Tar Barrel Burning. Source: Pinterest uploaded by Catherine Donaldson.

Today is New Year’s Eve. The turning of the year was traditionally marked by fire customs, some of which survive. In Allendale in Northumberland a parade of gaudily-attired Guisers still takes place on the night of 31st December. Shortly before midnight the all-male procession sets out with each Guiser balancing a barrel of burning tar on his head, the conclusion of which results in the barrels being thrown onto a huge bonfire. This is followed by singing and dancing until the midnight bells chime. In Stonehaven in Grampian, the revellers launch fireballs into the air, or whirl the cloth balls, lit by paraffin, around their heads, the balls being attached to them by strings. The whole event is highly dangerous.

These ceremonies are of course memories of pagan practices designed to light the skies in midwinter to encourage the return of the sun in spring. Bonfires were common, and households should keep their New Year fire burning for at least 24 hours to ensure the coming year is a prosperous one. The horse and bull-worship of the ancient Celts was maintained by men dressed in bull hides and horse costumes who visited homes throughout the Christmas season in order to bestow good fortune in return for alms. The Church objected to such blatant pagan survivals and most died out, but on New Year’s Eve the horse-skull totems of Mari Lwyd visit the farmhouses of Wales still, although the tradition may owe as much to old mumming plays as it does to pagan memories.

Bell ringing is a very prevalent Christian-era New Year’s Eve tradition, and the New Year is rung in to this day at midnight by the chimes Big Ben in London.

[opencommunion]

"The story of  'John Doe 1' of the Democratic Republic of the Congo is tucked in a lawsuit filed five years ago against several U.S. tech companies, including Tesla, the world’s largest electric vehicle producer. In a country where the earth hides its treasures beneath its surface, those who chip away at its bounty pay an unfair price. As a pre-teen, his family could no longer afford to pay his $6 monthly school fee, leaving him with one option: a life working underground in a tunnel, digging for cobalt rocks.  But soon after he began working for roughly two U.S. dollars per day, the child was buried alive under the rubble of a collapsed mine tunnel. His body was never recovered. 

The nation, fractured by war, disease, and famine, has seen more than 6 million people die since the mid-1990s, making the conflict the deadliest since World War II. But, in recent years, the death and destruction have been aided by the growing number of electric vehicles humming down American streets. In 2022, the U.S., the world’s third-largest importer of cobalt, spent nearly $525 million on the mineral, much of which came from the Congo.

As America’s dependence on the Congo has grown, Black-led labor and environmental organizers here in the U.S. have worked to build a transnational solidarity movement. Activists also say that the inequities faced in the Congo relate to those that Black Americans experience. And thanks in part to social media, the desire to better understand what’s happening in the Congo has grown in the past 10 years. In some ways, the Black Lives Matter movement first took root in the Congo after the uprising in Ferguson in 2014, advocates say. And since the murder of George Floyd and the outrage over the Gaza war, there has been an uptick in Congolese and Black American groups working on solidarity campaigns.

Throughout it all, the inequities faced by Congolese people and Black Americans show how the supply chain highlights similar patterns of exploitation and disenfranchisement. ... While the American South has picked up about two-thirds of the electric vehicle production jobs, Black workers there are more likely to work in non-unionized warehouses, receiving less pay and protections. The White House has also failed to share data that definitively proves whether Black workers are receiving these jobs, rather than them just being placed near Black communities. 'Automakers are moving their EV manufacturing and operations to the South in hopes of exploiting low labor costs and making higher profits,' explained Yterenickia Bell, an at-large council member in Clarkston, Georgia, last year. While Georgia has been targeted for investment by the Biden administration, workers are 'refusing to stand idly by and let them repeat a cycle that harms Black communities and working families.'

... Of the 255,000 Congolese mining for cobalt, 40,000 are children. They are not only exposed to physical threats but environmental ones. Cobalt mining pollutes critical water sources, plus the air and land. It is linked to respiratory illnesses, food insecurity, and violence. Still, in March, a U.S. court ruled on the case, finding that American companies could not be held liable for child labor in the Congo, even as they helped intensify the prevalence. ... Recently, the push for mining in the Congo has reached new heights because of a rift in China-U.S. relations regarding EV production. Earlier this month, the Biden administration issued a 100% tariff on Chinese-produced EVs to deter their purchase in the U.S. Currently, China owns about 80% of the legal mines in the Congo, but tens of thousands of Congolese work in 'artisanal' mines outside these facilities, where there are no rules or regulations, and where the U.S. gets much of its cobalt imports.  'Cobalt mining is the slave farm perfected,' wrote Siddharth Kara last year in the award-winning investigative book Cobalt Red: How The Blood of the Congo Powers Our Lives. 'It is a system of absolute exploitation for absolute profit.' While it is the world’s richest country in terms of wealth from natural resources, Congo is among the poorest in terms of life outcomes. Of the 201 countries recognized by the World Bank Group, it has the 191st lowest life expectancy."

[aishiteru-kenshin]

Taisho Otome Fairytale | 大正処女御伽話 | Taishō Otome Otogibanashi

[peckraiden]

Beans - Kate's Black-Eyed Pea Salad Delicious black-eyed pea recipe that was created originally for New Year's Eve but is great any time of the year.

[acmeoop]

Ring In The New Year

The Big Countdown “Holiday Knights” (1997)

[tempestinmysoul]

me, a Scot, looking at the words "New Years Eve": What is this?? What does it mean? WHat??

Happy Hogmanay lol <3

[opera-ghosts]

This year marks the 100th anniversary since North American public heard the melody of their favourite Christmas hit performed for the first time by the Ukrainian choir in New York in 1922 at Carnegie Hall. Later, the Ukrainian folk song "Shchedryk" was adapted into English, becoming the world-known "Carol of The Bells".

Ukranian National Choir - Shchedryk or Carol of the Bells 1922 Recorded on or between 26-09-1922 and 06-10-1922 in New York.

[shadowtriovibes]

mind if i move in closer?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: PG

Summary: sickeningly sweet christmas fic, loosely a continuation of the potioneer's apprentice (not necessary to have read to read this!)

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.” Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?” “No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

December 25, 1891

Christmas morning at Hogwarts is a surprisingly quiet affair.

Having spent many of your formative Christmas mornings in a Muggle boarding school before arriving at Hogwarts, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up to the sounds of eager whispers and excited squeals as the handful of holiday holdovers awoke to find a small array of presents laid out for them. Gifts were usually provided by the kindly heads of house who’d remained at the school during the break – many of whom were just as lonely as the children they watched.

A few oranges and sweets here and there, some secondhand books, perhaps a wooden puzzle for them all to share… It was always lovely, even during leaner years.

Of course, Christmas at Hogwarts was spectacular – massive fir trees decorated with floating baubles and shining ribbons lined the corridors, beautiful music drifted down from the Bell Tower, and the annual feast on Christmas Eve teemed with seemingly endless platters of food.

Your first holiday season at Hogwarts hadn’t been lonely at all. With Ranrok still at large and dozens of poacher camps causing trouble throughout the Highlands, many students chose to spend their Christmas at Hogwarts rather than risking the lengthy train ride back to London or hiking out to their family homes in nearby hamlets.

This year, however, there were only two Slytherins who remained in the castle over the winter break: you and Sebastian.

While the two of you had each been quietly pleased to learn that the other would be staying, you’d both been surprised to learn that even Ominis would be departing to spend Christmas with his family, per their demand. Before he left, he’d darkly insisted that he’d bet a fistful of Galleons that he’d be back before New Year’s Day if his brothers had anything to say about it.

While Ominis sulked, Sebastian had been the one to explain to you that the older pure blood families, many of whom shared your house, are especially traditional during the holidays.

Or, as he’d so bluntly put it, “All the posh ones will be traveling somewhere warmer, and even the snooty half-bloods don’t want to leave their little sprogs here with all the orphans and the impoverished.”

“That’s lovely,” you grumbled.

He’d merely shrugged and smirked, “At least we’ll have the run of the place.”

Christmas Eve dinner, at least, had been fairly lively thanks to a handful of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who delighted in joining hands and pulling open wizard crackers. Sebastian had insisted you keep the wizard’s chess set he’d received, as yours had contained a live turtle dove that had promptly flown off to roost in the rafters.

(Professor Black, who had also stayed over the holidays, declined Professor Weasley’s invitation to join the holdovers in the Great Hall, which Sebastian insists was the best gift he could have possibly received.)

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening in the common room, taking turns sipping from a bottle of spiced apple brandy Sebastian had managed to charm out of Sirona’s hands during your last trip to Hogsmeade. By the time you’d wobbled up the stairs to the seventh-year dormitories, you’d been unable to stop giggling while Sebastian walked you to your door.

“Get some rest,” he’d laughed, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. “Father Christmas can’t bring you presents if you’re still awake, can he?”

“Father Christmas, hm?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “It’s just the two of us, Sebastian. I think he’ll pass over the Slytherin common room this year.”

Something secret sparkled in his eyes, but he said nothing as you opened the door to your room.

Just as you’d turned around to say goodnight, Sebastian leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

Before you could even exhale, he’d quickly made his way up the opposite steps to his room and firmly shut his door behind him. You felt warm all over as you’d changed into your nightwear and climbed into bed – not just from the brandy, you’re sure.

But when you wake up… There’s nothing but silence.

The fire across the room is muted with its usual silencing charms, the popping and cracking of the firewood kept quiet while you slept. There are no roommates eager to open gifts, no smells of Christmas treats like roasted ham or cinnamon pastries cooking in the dormitory kitchens down the hall, which you’d cherished in your old schools.

…But at the foot of your bed, you find a small pile of presents.

You smile to yourself as you sit up and rub your eyes, half expecting the delicate boxes wrapped in bright paper and gently curling ribbons to dissolve away as your vision comes into focus. When they remain, you dare to gingerly pull one into your lap, tracing your fingertips over the crisp paper wrappings.

The first parcel is from Augustus Hill, who’d sent over a fine woolen scarf charmed to remain warm and dry even if it collects falling snowflakes that melt against its magical heat. It’s a deep forest green and is wonderfully soft, and you can’t resist wrapping it across your shoulders as you reach for a second gift.

From your potions master Parry Pippin, you receive a fine set of measuring spoons made of polished copper – much more attractive and precise than the brushed pewter spoons you’d ordered from a supply shop in Diagon Alley.

Professor Weasley had even gifted you a box of stationery supplies that contained a set of quills, a few rolls of parchment, and even a pot of ink. A practical gift to be sure, but thoughtful (and quite generous, you think).

Your favorite gift is from Ominis, who’d sent a box of French candies with magical molten centers from a wizarding confectionary shop in Paris, where his family always visits for the holidays. Inside he’d tucked a note insisting that Sebastian had been sent his own box as well and you were not to let him coax you into sharing yours. You’d fondly rolled your eyes before pinning it to your ever-growing collection of correspondences affixed to the wall beside your bed.

Of course, you can’t resist treating yourself to a piece of candy or two while you change into a simple dressing robe and freshen yourself in the wash basin beside the fireplace. One tastes like cherries and brings a delightful pink flush to your cheeks and lips, and the other tastes like nougat and makes you whistle like a songbird while you pull back your hair into a loose braid.

By the time you wander downstairs, Sebastian is already poking at the common room fireplace, cursing under his breath.

“Happy Christmas, Seb,” you call out, tucking your dressing robe tighter around your waist.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbles distractedly. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

You smile to yourself as you take a seat on the cozy settee across from the fireplace. Sebastian has managed to rustle up some extra firewood, undoubtedly from one of the empty boys’ dormitories, to ward off the chill of the common room.

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.”

Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?”

“No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

To your delight, Sebastian’s frown deepens. “What? Who?”

“Oh, you’ve met him,” you answer, feigning indifference. “He’s rather posh, very stylish, always dressed impeccably… You and I saved him from a troll once, if you recall.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he finally catches wind of your little ruse. “Ah, I see. Just playing one of your little games with me.”

“You make it far too easy,” you tease him, unraveling your scarf and gently draping it across his broad shoulders. “There, that ought to warm you up.”

(Immediately your mind starts to wander off as it conjures up images of how else you might warm up your unfairly handsome friend, but you’re quick to chastise it into silence.)

“You’re too kind, love,” he says, that ever-present smirk still on his lips.

Both of you are silent for several long moments while you hang on to the ends of the scarf, staring up into his warm brown eyes. His gaze dips down to your mouth when you bite your lip, and just as you’re about to ask him if he’d like to walk you to the Great Hall for breakfast, he blurts out, “I have a gift for you.”

“You – a gift?” you ask dumbly. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Er, I should warn you that it’s nothing big, but… I wanted you to have it, so…”

He trails off quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

“I have a gift for you too,” you admit. “I left it upstairs. Can I go get it for you?”

“S-sure,” he stutters. “You bought me a gift?”

“Don’t be daft, Sallow,” you tease him. “I made you a gift.”

With that you turn on your heel and march back up the stairs to your dormitory, snagging the delicate potion bottle shaped like a cloud with an indigo ribbon wrapped around its neck. You gingerly turn it over in your hands, watching as the light purple draught inside swirls around languidly.

Downstairs, Sebastian waits for you with a small box tucked behind his back. He looks slightly nervous, you think, so you decide to offer him your gift first.

“Alright,” you say as you take a seat. “First, let me just say that I had Mister Pippin check this to make sure I did everything right, and he said it’s perfectly fine.”

(In fact, Pippin had said you’d done a brilliant job, but you don’t want to oversell yourself before Sebastian has had a chance to try your brew.)

Sebastian eyes the glass bottle as you offer it to him, gently turning it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he asks softly, and then he grins and asks, “Did Weasley help you at all? Because I already learned my lesson with his ‘Fizzing Whizzbeer,’ thank you very much.”

“No,” you insist, biting back a laugh as you remember Sebastian chugging a bottle of Garreth’s experimental brew and being stuck levitating a few feet above the ground for an entire afternoon. “No, I made this just for you.”

“What’s it do?” he asks curiously.

“Well, it’s… it’s a sleeping draught, sort of,” you say softly. “It’s got lavender for comfort, and valerian springs for restful sleep, but I added cinnamon and a bit of shrivelfig to create peaceful dreams.”

Sebastian slowly tips the bottle back and forth, watching the thin liquid dance around the bottle. “Peaceful, hm?”

You’ve known about his nightmares for a while now. He doesn’t like to talk about them often, but he’s admitted that since that day in the Catacombs, he’s hardly slept a full night without being plagued by visions of those damned Inferi, of his uncle’s limp body, of Anne’s face…

The bleary eyes and wan expression he sometimes wears to breakfast after a particularly hard night tell you everything you needed to know, and you’ve spent the last several weeks visiting Hogsmeade after class to work with Mister Pippin to create your own special draught. Not dreamless sleep, but better sleep.

“I just thought… that you deserve to have some good dreams,” you mumble.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks up. “I do have good dreams, sometimes.”

(You miss the way he glances over at you, raking his gaze down the length of your body. You miss how it lingers where your dressing robe has fallen open a bit, showing off the delicate neckline of the thin chemise you’re wearing underneath.)

“O-oh,” you stammer. “W-well, I suppose now you can… have more.”

You frown disappointedly until Sebastian rests his warm hand on your knee, gently holding the bottle against his chest with his other.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, I can’t believe you made this just for me. Merlin, it’s… it’s a perfect gift.”

His gaze is heated, and intense, and something about it makes you want to squirm, so instead you breathily ask, “May I have my gift?”

Sebastian holds your gaze as he slowly nods, only letting it break it when he turns to grab the box he’d hidden behind himself. With trembling hands you lift the lid to find a small silver badge inside, reverently tucked inside a nest of tissue paper.

Your hands go still.

“Sebastian, is – is this…?” you whisper.

“My family’s crest,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen it once before, in our fifth year.”

Gently, you lift the crest out of the box and cradle it in your hands. The heat from your skin quickly starts to warm the cool metal, and you trace your fingertips over the “S” hammered into the center of the badge.

“What – how–” you stutter.

“Earlier this year, Anne sent it back to me,” he explains softly, watching with dark eyes as you pour over the symbols that adorn the crest: a cauldron, a flowering tree, a pair of crossed daggers, and a crescent moon.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I’m still not sure,” Sebastian says hollowly. “She just sent the crest, with no letter. But if I had to guess, I think… I think she wanted me to know that she’s safe, but not where she is. Not yet.”

You clutch the crest against your breast. “Oh, Sebastian…”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice going rough. “It’s – that’s what it’s for, the crest. I gave it to her to keep her safe, and she gave it back to… to tell me that she’s alright. If that’s all she wants me to know, then… then it’s enough.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows along the side of his face.

“Why are you giving it to me?” you ask him curiously. “It’s beautiful, Sebastian, but – isn’t it important to you? To your family?”

He swallows nervously. “I don’t… have a family anymore. Not really. Anne is out there somewhere, safe without me, but… you and Ominis, you’re my only family now.”

You let the crest fall to your lap before you throw your arms around Sebastian, burying your face against that warm scarf of yours he’s still wearing. You don’t have the words to say how much this gift means to you, but you think he understands when he wraps his arms around you, skimming one of his large palms up and down the length of your back.

“It kept Anne safe, and – and now it will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I don’t… I’m not sure you understand how much you mean to me. I need you to be safe.”

“S’bst’n,” you mumble into his shoulder. “Y’re m’vry’th’n.”

He laughs softly and asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

You pull back just enough to press your lips against the shell of his ear, knowing that if you meet his eyes you’ll never have the courage to tell him how you’ve truly felt about him since your fifth year.

“I said, ‘Sebastian, you’re my everything.’”

Then the hand he’d cupped around the back of your head slides down, down, until he nudges his thumb along your jaw to coax you out of your little hiding place. His eyes are so dark, and the soft whine he lets out before he crushes his lips to yours is all the warning you get, but then… then he’s kissing you.

“Seb,” you gasp into his mouth, and then he lightly tugs on the tie around your waist until you shift yourself halfway onto his lap. It feels like hours go by just like that, just the two of you alternating between lazy, curious kisses and frantic, needy surges every time one of you lets slip another heated confession.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”“You taste incredible.”“I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

Eventually, you let your head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder while he trails soft kisses from the hinge of your jaw down to your shoulder and back. He’s ravenous, he’d told you himself, but it’s not until his stomach growls loudly between your bodies that you even remember that other type of hunger.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t leave soon,” you whine.

“Let’s stay here,” he murmurs against your neck. “We can eat those chocolates you got from Ominis for breakfast.”

“That’s… tempting,” you sigh distractedly, and then you pause.

Leaning back, you quirk a brow and ask, “Sorry, the chocolates I got from Ominis?”

“Well, sure,” Sebastian says smoothly. “He sent me a book on cursebreaking, but I can taste fancy chocolate on your lips, so I assumed…”

“You filthy liar, Sebastian Sallow,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “He warned me you’d try to talk me out of my sweets!”

“To be fair, that’s hardly the only thing I’ll try to talk you out of,” he drawls, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Namely this robe of yours…”

“Scoundrel,” you croon, leaning down for another hungry kiss.

(Ominis’ chocolates make a decent breakfast, even if half of them melt by the fire, ignored entirely while Sebastian makes good on his suggestion regarding your robe.)