#le pain de vie

[ladivinegrace]

Le Pain de Vie 

Introduction

     Le monde dans lequel nous vivons est un monde qui encourage les gens à être outrecuidants (présomptueux), autosuffisants et indépendants, un monde qui veut que les gens soient au contrôle de leur vie et vivent en rébellion contre l’autorité et les règles de Dieu. Mais contrairement à ce que le monde veut nous faire croire, quoi qu’entreprennent les hommes, ils ne peuvent jamais contrôler, ni leur propre vie, ni quoi que ce soit d’autre dans l’univers. Car Dieu contrôle tout, et nous sommes par essence des êtres insuffisants et impuissants – “[Dieu] tient dans sa main l'âme de tout ce qui vit, l’esprit qui anime tout être humain” (Job 12:10). C'est donc une folie de chercher à être autonome; c’est une aberration de vouloir se passer Dieu. Aucune créature, au ciel comme sur terre, n’est capable d’assurer sa pérennité (continuité), et l’homme ne fait pas exception. Nous avons tous besoin de Dieu – Celui qui seul se suffit à Lui-même, est indépendant et tout-puissant – pour nous soutenir quotidiennement, à chaque heure et à chaque instant. Nous ne pouvons pas nous en sortir sans le Seigneur notre Dieu; car Lui seul peut assurer notre continuité, tant physique que spirituelle. Il est notre subsistance.

     Cependant, à cause de l'immoralité des fils des hommes, leur faim est essentiellement centrée sur le mauvais objet. Ils ont un appétit excessif pour les plaisirs charnels et temporels, et sont toujours dominés par le désir d’assurer le bien-être de leur corps. C'est dans la nature des hommes de se soucier de ce qu’ils vont manger, de ce qu’ils vont boire, de ce qu’ils vont porter – et pour les riches – de l'endroit où ils vont passer leurs prochaines vacances, de la nouvelle voiture ou maison qu’ils vont s’acheter, de quoi faire pour rester jeunes et en bonne santé, etc. Pour cette raison, beaucoup travaillent très dur; ils se lèvent tôt le matin et se couchent tard, parce qu’ils veulent amasser autant de richesses que possible pour s’assurer que tous leurs désirs soient satisfaits. De plus, ceux qui sont avides de gains malhonnêtes se livrent à des activités malsaines afin d’accroître leur richesse. Ils oppriment et pillent les pauvres, ils trichent et volent, ils versent le sang et détruisent des vies pour multiplier leurs richesses, parce qu’ils pensent que la vie d’une personne consiste dans l’abondance de ses biens. Ils vivent comme s’ils étaient faits pour les choses et les plaisirs, toujours à la quête de la santé, la richesse et la prospérité. Ils courent après les choses temporelles, les choses qui périssent, et ne cherchent pas Celui pour qui ils ont été créés et qui seul est leur subsistance.

Le Pain de Vie rejeté par les hommes

     L’histoire et l'état actuel des choses dans notre monde témoignent que les hommes naturels recherchent avant tout la satisfaction de leurs désirs corporels. Par exemple, pendant les pérégrinations du peuple d’Israël dans le désert, “Le ramassis de gens qui se trouvait au milieu d’Israël éprouva des désirs. Les Israélites eux-mêmes recommencèrent à pleurer et dirent: “Qui nous donnera de la viande à manger? Nous nous souvenons des poissons que nous mangions en Egypte et qui ne nous coûtaient rien, des concombres, des melons, des poireaux, des oignons et des gousses d’ail. Maintenant, notre gosier est desséché: plus rien! Nos yeux ne voient que de la manne” (Nombres 11:4-6). Dans Nombres 21:5, le peuple “parla contre Dieu et contre Moïse, [disant]: “Pourquoi nous avez-vous fait quitter l’Egypte, si c’est pour que nous mourions dans le désert? En effet, il n’y a ni pain, ni eau, et nous sommes dégoûtés de cette misérable nourriture.” 

     Les hommes d’Israël accordaient plus d’importance à la nourriture qu’ils avaient en Égypte qu’à l’Éternel, leur Dieu, qui était au milieu d’eux. Car en rejetant la manne que l'Éternel leur donnait, ils rejetaient en fait l'Éternel Lui-même. Ils rejetèrent l'Éternel qui les avait “fait sortir de l'Egypte par sa main puissante, [accomplissant] sous [leurs] yeux de grands miracles et prodiges, porteurs de malheur pour l'Egypte, pour le pharaon et pour toute sa maison. Il [les avait] fait sortir de là pour [les] amener dans le pays qu'Il avait juré à [leurs] ancêtres de [leur] donner” (Deutéronome 6:21-23). L’Eternel les avait délivrés de d'Egypte afin de les préserver, d'assurer leur continuité et d'être leur Dieu. Mais bien que l’Éternel les ait protégé par sa présence et n’ait pas manqué de subvenir à leurs besoins, leur cœur était loin de Lui.

     Le peuple d’Israël était esclave en Égypte depuis quatre siècles. Mais l'Éternel les délivra et les prit pour les emmener dans un pays où coulait le lait et le miel. Avec patience, l'Éternel Lui-même les escortait, malgré leur entêtement. “[Sa] nuée [se tenait] sur [eux] et [Il marchait] devant [eux] le jour dans une colonne de nuée, et la nuit dans une colonne de feu” (Nombres 14:14). Bien qu’ils ne méritaient pas la compassion de Dieu, sa présence ne les quittait jamais et ils jouissaient de ses bénédictions et de son amour. Néanmoins, leur attitude envers l'Éternel était une attitude de mépris: Il n’était pas infiniment précieux à leurs yeux. Leur cœur s’affectionnait plutôt aux choses temporelles et n’avait aucune révérence pour la beauté et la majesté transcendantes de Dieu et sa bonté infinie. Bien qu'ils eussent quitté l'Égypte pour un voyage vers la Terre Promise, leur cœur était toujours en Égypte après la viande, le poisson, les concombres, les melons, les oignons, les poireaux et l'ail. Ils rejetèrent l'Éternel parce qu'ils étaient prisonniers de leur mauvais appétit. 

     Aux jours du ministère terrestre de notre Seigneur, une forte soif de choses temporelles caractérisait également la multitude qui Le suivait – car beaucoup de gens Le suivaient non pas à cause de qui Il était (le Messie), mais pour les bénédictions temporelles et les soins qu’Il leur prodiguait, à savoir le pain gratuit, la guérison et la délivrance de la possession démoniaque. En d’autres termes, ils voulaient les dons et non Christ le Donateur. Par exemple, lorsque le Seigneur nourrit une foule d’environ cinq mille hommes de cinq pains d’orge et deux poissons près de la mer de Galilée, le lendemain, les gens de la foule qui se trouvaient sur le rivage “montèrent eux-mêmes dans ces barques et allèrent à Capernaüm à [sa] recherche” (Jean 6:24). Mais sachant ce qu’il y avait dans leur cœur, le Seigneur réprimanda ces gens pour leur intempérance. Car ils n’avaient pas compris la signification des merveilles qu’Il avait accomplies sous leurs yeux. Et le Seigneur les exhorta alors en disant: “Travaillez, non pour la nourriture qui périt, mais pour celle qui subsiste pour la vie éternelle, et que le Fils de l’homme vous donnera; car c’est Lui que le Père, que Dieu Lui-même a marqué de son sceau” (Jean 6:27).

     Afin que personne ne pense que la disposition naturelle de son cœur est différente ou qu’il y ait jamais eu une génération d'hommes dont le penchant naturel était différent de celui de ces gens d'autrefois, j’invite chacun à un examen de soi et aussi du monde dans lequel nous vivons. Le désir des trésors temporels et plaisirs charnels caractérise les fils des hommes, car ils sont moralement corrompus. En témoigne la multitude de crimes, de dissensions, de séparations et de guerres qui affligent nos relations, tant horizontales que verticales. Cette tendance naturelle des hommes est dénoncée par l’Eternel dans sa Parole.  Par exemple, l’Esprit du Seigneur nous pose les questions suivantes par l’intermédiaire de son serviteur Jacques: “D’où viennent les luttes, et d’où viennent les querelles parmi vous? N’est-ce pas de vos passions qui combattent dans vos membres? Vous convoitez, et vous ne possédez pas; vous êtes meurtriers et envieux, et vous ne pouvez pas obtenir; vous avez des querelles et des luttes, et vous ne possédez pas, parce que vous ne demandez pas. Vous demandez, et vous ne recevez pas, parce que vous demandez mal, dans le but de satisfaire vos passions” (Jacques 4:1-3). Les réponses données ici par Jacques montrent clairement que le désir du cœur de l’homme se rapporte essentiellement à la chair et que dans le but d’assouvir ses passions, l’homme commet toutes sortes de méchancetés.

     Dans notre état naturel, nous suivons tous les traces de la multitude des peuples anciens, étant des amoureux des dons et bienfaits de Dieu plutôt que des êtres qui aiment Dieu le Donateur. La montée de l’Évangile de la prospérité dans le monde d’aujourd’hui est une indication claire que les hommes naturels sont avides des choses matérielles et des joies temporelles, une preuve de leur charnalité et de leur haine du Dieu Unique, Vrai et Vivant. Car selon ce qui est écrit, “Vous ne pouvez pas servir Dieu et l’argent” (Matthieu 6:24). 1 Jean 2:15-16 est une sonnette d’alarme tirée par l’Apôtre Jean dans son admonition de la communauté chrétienne, c’est-à-dire ceux qui sont nés de l’Esprit du Christ. Dans ce passage, Jean nous fait comprendre ce que l’amour véritable pour Dieu ne recherche pas et nous invite à y prêter attention. Il écrit, “N'aimez pas le monde ni ce qui est dans le monde. Si quelqu’un aime le monde, l'amour du Père n’est pas en lui. En effet, tout ce qui est dans le monde – la convoitise qui est dans l’homme, la convoitise des yeux et l’orgueil dû aux richesses – vient non du Père, mais du monde.” L’exhortation de Jean pointe au nouveau mode de vie créé par Dieu, lequel les chrétiens doivent désormais adopter et suivant lequel ils doivent marcher, puisqu’ils ne sont plus du monde (système du mal) mais sont une nouvelle création en Christ, enfants de Dieu par adoption. 

     Il est ahurissant de constater qu’en dépit d’une interdiction aussi claire et stricte, nombreux sont ceux qui aujourd’hui se disent chrétiens et qui prétendent s’en tenir aux enseignements de la Bible alors qu’en réalité ils sont essentiellement mondains dans leur conduite; ils vivent en totale opposition aux règles de Dieu et ne se soumettent pas à son autorité. Ils aiment les dons de Dieu plutôt que Dieu Lui-même, parce que leur cœur est endurci contre Dieu et ils Le haïssent de toutes leurs facultés. Telle est la nature de tout homme qui n’est pas encore né de l’Esprit. Il considère Dieu comme un distributeur automatique de billets où il peut se tourner et collecter des bénédictions et des trésors à volonté.

     Le Seigneur Dieu nous a créés à sa propre image, et notre objectif principal est de Le glorifier et de nous réjouir dans Lui pour toujours. Au commencement, lorsque Dieu créa les hommes, ils étaient saints et remplissaient donc parfaitement cet objectif. Mais à cause du péché, nous sommes désormais privés de la gloire de notre Dieu et ne nous réjouissons plus dans Lui. Dans notre état naturel, nous détestons tous le Dieu Unique, Vrai et Vivant. Cependant, bien que nous n’en soyons pas dignes, il a plu à l'Éternel, selon sa grâce et sa volonté souveraines, de nous racheter du péché et de ses effets, afin que nous puissions à nouveau partager sa sainteté. C’est pour cette raison que Dieu le Père a envoyé son Fils dans le monde, il y a environ deux mille ans, pour nous délivrer de notre asservissement au péché et à la mort. Et les signes que le Fils de Dieu a accomplis parmi le peuple durant son ministère sur terre étaient destinés à L’identifier, à témoigner de Lui – qu’Il était le Messie promis, le Sauveur envoyé par le Père pour donner la vie au peuple de Dieu. Mais les gens ne Le reconnurent point et Le rejetèrent, car leur cœur recherchait la satisfaction de leurs désirs physiques plutôt que celle de leurs besoins spirituels; ils voulaient les bénédictions matérielles et la délivrance physique plutôt que les bénédictions et la délivrance spirituelles. Fondamentalement, ils voulaient les dons et non le Donateur.

     Ayant été témoin du manque de discernement du peuple, le Seigneur, après avoir réprimandé le peuple, l’exhorta à ne pas travailler pour la nourriture qui périt. Alors, “Ils Lui dirent: Que devons-nous faire, pour accomplir les œuvres de Dieu? Jésus leur répondit: L’œuvre de Dieu, c’est que vous croyiez en Celui qu’Il a envoyé. Quel miracle fais-Tu donc, Lui dirent-ils, afin que nous le voyions, et que nous croyions en Toi? Que fais-Tu? Nos pères ont mangé la manne dans le désert, selon ce qui est écrit: Il leur donna le pain du ciel à manger. Jésus leur dit: En vérité, en vérité, Je vous le dis, Moïse ne vous a pas donné le pain du ciel, mais mon Père vous donne le vrai pain du ciel; car le pain de Dieu, c’est Celui qui descend du ciel et qui donne la vie au monde. Ils Lui dirent: Seigneur, donne-nous toujours ce pain. Jésus leur dit: Je suis le pain de vie. Celui qui vient à Moi n’aura jamais faim, et celui qui croit en Moi n’aura jamais soif. Mais, Je vous l’ai dit, vous M’avez vu, et vous ne croyez point” (Jean 6:28-36).

     Comme leurs pères dans le désert, ces gens avaient vu des signes et prodiges, mais leur aveuglement spirituel les empêcha d’en percevoir la signification; leurs esprits dépravés et leurs cœurs sensuels les retinrent dans l’obscurité et ils ne purent point percevoir la gloire de Dieu briller sur le visage de Son Fils Jésus-Christ. L’endurcissement de leur cœur les empêcha de voir le Fils de Dieu comme leur trésor suprême et de se réjouir dans Lui. C’est pourquoi ils ne crurent point en Lui. Le Seigneur leur avait dit ce qu'ils devaient faire, c'est-à-dire travailler pour le Pain de vie qui perdure jusqu'à la vie éternelle plutôt que de se consacrer exclusivement à la poursuite des choses matérielles; Il les avait clairement exhortés à croire en Lui, le Sauveur du monde, à avoir faim du vrai Pain de Dieu, le Pain qui donne la vie et à se réjouir dans Lui. Mais ils ne comprenaient toujours pas ce dont ils avaient le plus besoin. Ils Lui dirent instamment: “Seigneur, donne-nous toujours ce pain-là”. 

     Cependant, leurs grognements et leur désertion par la suite (voir v.41-66) révèlent d’une part leur interprétation erronée de la déclaration du Seigneur qui les exhortait à rechercher le pain de Dieu; car ils pensèrent plutôt au pain physique. Et d’un autre côté, leurs grognements et leur désertion démontrent également à quel point ils ne se préoccupaient que de leur ventre. Le bien-être physique était leur principale préoccupation. Alors, ils rejetèrent le Pain de Vie, le Pain de Dieu descendu du ciel pour leur donner la vie. Ils se délectaient du pain physique et ne voulaient rien avoir à faire avec le pain spirituel, le Pain de Vie, “le pain qui descend du ciel, afin que celui qui en mange ne meure point” (Jean 6:50). En d'autres termes, ils ne se préoccupaient que du bien-être de leur corps, pas de celui de leur âme. 

    Le mépris et le rejet du Seigneur Jésus-Christ ne sont pas une attitude qui caractérise uniquement Israël dans le désert, ou la multitude de personnes qui ont suivi le Seigneur durant son ministère sur terre simplement parce qu'Il subvenait à leurs divers besoins. Tout au long de l’histoire de l'humanité, les gens ont méprisé le Seigneur notre Dieu et beaucoup, même de nos jours, Le suivent uniquement pour la prospérité, la santé et la richesse. Car ils sont contrôlés par leur appétit excessif pour les richesses matérielles et bénédictions temporelles, étant morts par leurs offenses et leurs péchés. Par conséquent, ils ignorent délibérément la raison pour laquelle le Fils de Dieu a quitté son trône au plus haut des cieux et est entré dans le royaume de l’humanité dans la chair. Ils veulent les bénédictions et les dons du Christ mais ne veulent rien avoir à faire avec Lui; car leurs cœurs corrompus ont faim de pain physique mais détestent et insultent le Pain de Vie, au péril de leur âme.

     La préciosité infinie et la suprématie du Pain de Vie

     Il est crucial pour nous de comprendre qu’il existe une corrélation entre notre quête, ce dans quoi nous nous réjouissons dans cette vie présente et notre destinée éternelle. Deux options s’offrent à chaque personne sur cette terre: soit travailler pour les choses temporelles, soit rechercher la gloire éternelle. En d’autres termes, nous pouvons soit affectionner les richesses de cette terre et le bien-être physique, soit nous réjouir dans le Seigneur Jésus-Christ, le Pain de vie, le trésor céleste suprême et éternel. Notre destinée éternelle sera la récompense de tout ce que nous courons après dans cette vie présente. Ce qui signifie que l’objet de notre réjouissance dans cette vie détermine notre fin dans la vie à venir. Paul écrit dans Romains 8:5-8, “Ceux, en effet, qui vivent selon la chair s’affectionnent aux choses de la chair, tandis que ceux qui vivent selon l’Esprit s’affectionnent aux choses de l’Esprit. Et l’affection de la chair, c’est la mort, tandis que l’affection de l’Esprit, c’est la vie et la paix; car l’affection de la chair est inimitié contre Dieu, parce qu’elle ne se soumet pas à la loi de Dieu, et qu’elle ne le peut même pas. Or, ceux qui vivent selon la chair ne sauraient plaire à Dieu.” Ainsi, ceux qui ont faim du Pain de Vie et se réjouissent dans Lui sont récompensés par la vie et la paix; mais une vie passée à rechercher la santé, la richesse et la prospérité est une vie ruinée et sans espoir, car sa récompense est la mort. Et comme il est écrit: “Au jour de la colère, la richesse ne sert à rien; mais la justice délivre de la mort” (Proverbes 11:4).  

     Il n’y a ni vie ni paix sans le Christ, le Pain de Vie. Quiconque n’est pas en Christ est mort et en inimitié avec Dieu. “Il n'y a point de paix pour les méchants, dit l'Éternel” dans Esaïe 48:22. Il faut se nourrir du Pain de Vie pour passer de la mort à la vie et avoir la paix avec Dieu. Car nous sommes par nature morts par nos offenses et nos péchés, et ce que nous méritons, c’est la colère de Dieu. Mais dans la plénitude de sa grâce, le Père a envoyé son Fils dans le monde pour nous purifier de nos péchés et donner la vie à nos âmes mortes. Jésus-Christ, le Fils de Dieu, est le Pain qui donne la vie. “Je suis le pain vivant descendu du ciel. Si quelqu'un mange de ce pain, il vivra éternellement, et le pain que Je donnerai, c'est mon corps, [que je donnerai] pour la vie du monde”, déclare le Seigneur dans Jean 6:51. “Dieu a destiné [son Fils] à être par son sang une victime expiatoire pour ceux qui croiraient” (Romains 3:25a). Quiconque se repent de ses péchés et croit en la mort substitutive du Christ est justifié devant Dieu et reçoit le don gratuit de la vie éternelle.

     La foi au Seigneur Jésus-Christ, le Pain de vie, est le seul moyen d’être justifié devant Dieu et la garantie d’une éternité de félicité (grand bonheur). Le Fils de Dieu s'est offert gracieusement et volontairement en sacrifice de propitiation pour les péchés des hommes afin que tous ceux qui croient en Lui obtiennent le pardon de leurs péchés. Il est le trésor que nous devons tous rechercher dans cette vie, le Pain pour lequel nous devons tous travailler, l'objet de notre joie. Car nous avons été créés par Lui et pour Lui, pour Le glorifier et nous réjouir dans Lui.  Rejeter le Fils de Dieu dans cette vie présente, c’est se condamner corps et âme au tourment éternel. “En vérité, en vérité, Je vous le dis, si vous ne mangez pas le corps du Fils de l'homme et si vous ne buvez pas son sang, vous n’avez pas la vie en vous-mêmes”, dit le Seigneur Lui-même dans Jean 6:53. À moins qu’une personne ne fasse confiance à la mort substitutive du Christ sur la croix, à moins qu’elle ne reconnaisse que le Fils de Dieu a subit la colère de Dieu à la place des pécheurs en proie à la ruine et qu'elle ne compte que sur la personne et l'œuvre du Christ pour le salut de son âme, une telle personne restera spirituellement morte et la colère de Dieu, le Juste et le Saint, s’abattra sur elle. Il n’y a ni paix ni vie en dehors du Christ Seigneur, mais la mort et les tourments éternels.

     Peu importe la quantité de trésors que nous amassons dans cette vie et le nombre de soi-disant bonnes actions que nous accomplissons, notre destinée éternelle ne sera que misère si nous ne nourrissons pas notre âme du Pain de vie. Car seul le Pain de Vie peut donner la vie à notre âme et nous sauver de la colère de Dieu. À tous ceux qui croient en Lui, le Seigneur Jésus-Christ impute sa propre justice, tant active que passive, et Dieu les considère comme justes. Sa colère ne demeure plus sur eux, car ils sont scellés par l’Esprit du Christ dans l’alliance d’amour de Dieu et adoptés dans sa famille. Comme l’écrit Paul dans Romains 8:1, “Il n’y a donc maintenant aucune condamnation pour ceux qui sont en Jésus-Christ.” Parce que le Christ a payé la totalité de la pénalité pour leurs péchés avec le sang de sa croix, ceux qui se repentent de leurs péchés et mettent leur confiance en la personne du Christ et son œuvre sont délivrés du péché et de sa pénalité. Car le Christ leur impute sa propre justice comme un don. Car la vie que le Christ a vécue, Il a vécu pour ceux qui croiraient en Lui, et Il est mort en tant que leur substitut sur la croix du Calvaire et a été ressuscité pour leur justification.

     La justice qui vient du Christ, le Seigneur notre Dieu, est plus précieuse que tout. Aucune richesse sur terre n'est comparable à sa valeur, et il n’y a rien au monde dont nous, pécheurs, avons plus besoin que la justice qui vient de Dieu; car, étant séparés du Dieu Créateur à cause de nos péchés, notre réconciliation avec Lui en dépend. Aucune relation paisible avec Dieu ne peut être établie sans cette justice. Notre destinée éternelle sera une horreur si nous ne recevons pas la justice qui vient de Dieu. C’est pourquoi le Seigneur commande à ses disciples dans Matthieu 6:31-33, “Ne vous inquiétez donc point, et ne dites pas: Que mangerons-nous? Que boirons-nous? De quoi serons-nous vêtus? Car toutes ces choses, ce sont les païens qui les recherchent. Votre Père céleste sait que vous en avez besoin. Cherchez premièrement le royaume et la justice de Dieu; et toutes ces choses vous seront données par-dessus.” Par ce commandement, le Seigneur souligne la primauté d’une bonne relation avec Dieu sur les bénédictions temporelles. Il dit: “Cherchez premièrement le royaume et la justice de Dieu”, car ce n’est que lorsque nous y parviendrons que nous pourrons jouir d’une paix et d’un bonheur éternels maintenant et dans la vie à venir. La justice de Dieu a pour nous une valeur infinie, car sans la justice que Dieu nous impute, nous ne pouvons pas être justifiés devant Lui, ni devenir héritiers de son Royaume. Sans la justice qui vient de Dieu et est reçue par le moyen de la foi en son Fils bien-aimé Jésus-Christ, les pécheurs sont condamnés au tourment éternel. Par conséquent, obtenir la justice de Dieu pour le salut de notre âme et une relation intime avec Dieu doit être notre objectif suprême. Et nous devons poursuivre cet objectif, non pas selon nos propres conditions, ni avec nos propres efforts, mais selon les conditions fixées par Dieu, tout en nous appuyant uniquement sur sa puissance et sa sagesse.

     “[Le Christ est] la puissance de Dieu et la sagesse de Dieu” (1 Corinthiens 1:24), et l’Évangile du Christ “est la puissance de Dieu pour le salut de tout homme qui croit, du Juif d’abord, mais aussi du non-Juif. En effet, c’est l'Evangile qui révèle la justice de Dieu par la foi et pour la foi, comme cela est écrit: Le juste vivra par la foi” (Romains 1:16-17). Aucune relation intime avec Dieu ne peut être établie en dehors de son Fils Jésus-Christ. Aucun homme ne peut être juste devant Dieu sans l’Évangile du Christ. C’est sur la base de la personne et de l’œuvre de Jésus-Christ, le Fils de Dieu, que les pécheurs peuvent être justifiés devant Dieu et réconciliés avec Lui. Le Christ est le trésor suprême qui vient de Dieu, le germe juste promis et annoncé par le Père par l'intermédiaire du prophète Jérémie: “Voici que les jours viennent, déclare l'Eternel, où Je donnerai à David un germe juste. Il régnera avec compétence, Il exercera le droit et la justice dans le pays. A son époque, Juda sera sauvé et Israël habitera en sécurité. Voici le nom dont on L’appellera: ‘L'Eternel notre justice’”(Jérémie 23:5-6). Le Christ est “L'Éternel notre justice”! Nous devons nous réjouir uniquement dans Lui et de Lui seul nous devons avoir faim. Car Il est notre ultime trésor. 

     Lorsque l’Apôtre Paul a compris à quel point il est extrêmement précieux de connaître le Seigneur Christ, tous les trésors terrestres perdirent leur gloire à ses yeux; ils n’étaient que des détritus sous ses yeux. Alors il écrit dans Philippiens 3:7-11, “Mais ces choses qui étaient pour moi des gains, je les ai regardées comme une perte, à cause de Christ. Et même je regarde toutes choses comme une perte, à cause de l’excellence de la connaissance de Jésus-Christ mon Seigneur, pour lequel j’ai renoncé à tout; je les regarde comme de la boue, afin de gagner Christ, et d’être trouvé en Lui, non avec ma justice, celle qui vient de la loi, mais avec celle qui s’obtient par la foi en Christ, la justice qui vient de Dieu par la foi. Ainsi je connaîtrai Christ, et la puissance de sa résurrection, et la communion de ses souffrances, en devenant conforme à Lui dans sa mort, pour parvenir, si je puis, à la résurrection d’entre les morts.”

     Avant la Chute, l’homme se réjouissait exclusivement dans Dieu, car il était saint, sans souillure. Par conséquent, il ne souffrit d’aucun manque ou de dégénérescence; il n'était pas exposé au péril. L’homme était vivant et sa vie avait un sens; car il vivait à la gloire de l’Eternel et se réjouissait dans Lui. Mais la désobéissance de l’homme a engendré sa mort et sa séparation d’avec Dieu. Nous, la postérité d’Adam (le premier homme), sommes tous spirituellement morts par nature, incapables de vivre selon le standard de perfection fixé par le Seigneur. Nous ne nous réjouissons plus dans l’Eternel notre Dieu, mais courons après les faux dieux, cherchant la satisfaction de notre chair. Comme il est écrit: “Tous ont péché et sont privés de la gloire de Dieu” (Romains 3:23). Par conséquent, nous sommes tous séparés de Dieu et ce que nous méritons tous, c’est la mort; “car le salaire du péché, c'est la mort” (Romains 6:23a). Maintenant, il n’y a qu'une seule voie pour nous de retrouver la vie: nous repentir de nos péchés et mettre notre confiance en Christ, le Pain de Vie. Nous avons tous besoin du Christ – l’Eternel notre Dieu et Sauveur – pour le pardon de nos péchés et la vie. Lui seul peut nous ramener à la vie et mettre fin à notre faim. “Je suis le Pain de vie. Celui qui vient à Moi n’aura jamais faim, et celui qui croit en Moi n’aura jamais soif”, déclare le Seigneur dans Jean 6:35. 

     “L’homme est un éternel insatisfait”, dit-on. Car il veut toujours obtenir plus que ce qu’il a déjà – plus de plaisirs, plus d’argent, plus de biens matériels; il aspire toujours à plus de confort. Peu importe combien il possède déjà ou combien les circonstances de sa vie sont agréables, l’homme désire toujours obtenir plus de plaisirs et bénédictions temporelles et aspire à l'idéal en toutes choses. En vérité, l’homme naturel n’est jamais satisfait. Pourquoi? À cause de sa corruption morale et de sa séparation d’avec Dieu. Mais le Seigneur promet une satisfaction totale et éternelle à quiconque vient à Lui. La question maintenant est la suivante: Comment l’homme, connu pour sa faim insatiable de toutes sortes de choses, peut-il être si satisfait au point de ne plus avoir faim ni soif lorsqu’il vient au Christ? Réponse: Parce que les œillères vont être retirées de ses yeux; il recevra un cœur nouveau et un esprit nouveau; une vie nouvelle sera donnée à son âme et il recevra la paix du Christ Seigneur. De plus, l’Esprit du Christ le remplira de joie et d’amour pour Dieu et les choses de Dieu. Bref, il sera ramené à la vie et doté d’une nouvelle nature – la nature divine. Toute cette transformation permet à l’homme de voir la préciosité infinie du Christ. Puis la gloire de tout ce que l’homme considérait auparavant comme précieux s’évanouit à ses yeux. Comme Paul, il est capable de percevoir la valeur suprême de la connaissance du Christ et il considère tous les trésors et plaisirs terrestres comme de la foutaise. Il se détourne de la richesse, de la santé et de la prospérité, il abandonne toutes les idoles pour l'amour du Christ, le trésor suprême, comme le “marchand (dans la Parabole de la Perle dans Matthieu 13:45-46) qui cherche de belles perles. Lorsqu’il a trouvé une perle de grande valeur, il est allé vendre tout ce qu’il possédait et l'a achetée.”  

     Rien dans l'univers n'est plus précieux que la connaissance du Seigneur Christ. C’est-à-dire être uni au Christ par le moyen de la foi, avoir une relation intime avec Lui, être né de son Esprit. La connaissance du Christ est une richesse d’une valeur infinie. Car le Christ est le trésor suprême, Celui pour qui il vaut la peine de vivre et de mourir. Il est le Pain de Vie, Celui sans qui notre âme reste morte et périt. Tous les trésors de l’univers pâlissent à ses côtés. En Lui il y a la vie, en Lui il y a la paix, en Lui il y a la joie et la liberté. Quiconque reconnaît sa corruption spirituelle et son incapacité à expier ses propres péchés et se tourne vers le Fils de Dieu, le Pain de Vie, est justifié devant Dieu et vivra. Mais ceux qui rejettent le Christ ou l’Évangile ne pourront jamais être justifiés devant Dieu et la mort sera leur récompense éternelle. “En vérité, en vérité, Je vous le dis, si vous ne mangez pas le corps du Fils de l'homme et si vous ne buvez pas son sang, vous n’avez pas la vie en vous-mêmes. Celui qui mange mon corps et qui boit mon sang a la vie éternelle, et Moi, Je le ressusciterai le dernier jour. En effet, mon corps est vraiment une nourriture et mon sang est vraiment une boisson. Celui qui mange mon corps et qui boit mon sang demeure en Moi, et Moi Je demeure en lui. Tout comme le Père qui est vivant M’a envoyé et que Je vis grâce au Père, ainsi celui qui Me mange vivra grâce à Moi”, déclare le Christ Seigneur dans Jean 6:53-57. Mais celui qui ne se nourrit pas du Christ reste sous l’emprise de la mort et sa faim ne cesse jamais. 

     Jésus-Christ, le Pain de Vie, est la personne dont chaque être humain sur la planète a besoin; car c'est seulement par Lui que nous pouvons passer de la mort à la vie et avoir la paix avec Dieu; ce n'est que par le Christ que nous pouvons atteindre la sainteté et jouir d’une éternité de bonheur parfait dans la présence glorieuse de Dieu. Le refus de se nourrir du Christ, le Pain de Vie, signifie la mort. Refuser à son âme de se nourrir du Pain de Vie, c’est soumettre son âme à la ruine éternelle. Car le Pain de Vie est plus pour l’âme que le pain physique pour le corps. Car en plus d’être la subsistance de l’âme, le Pain de Vie est Celui qui donne la vie à l’âme et la purifie. Jésus-Christ, le Pain de Vie, est l’Auteur de la vie et Celui qui seul peut purifier les pécheurs de toute impureté.

     Celui qui a faim et se nourrit d’autre chose que du Pain de Vie se nourrit de cendres, et la mort est sa destinée éternelle. Les Israélites qui ne se réjouissaient pas dans Dieu, l'Éternel, mais dont le cœur fut pris d’engouement pour la viande, le poisson, les concombres, les melons, les poireaux, les oignons et l’ail d'Égypte pendant leur voyage de Sinaï à Kadesh, furent détruits à cause de leur avidité. Après leur grognement, l'Éternel leur donna de la viande, étant en colère; et Il leur dit par l’intermédiaire de son serviteur Moïse: “Vous en mangerez non pas un jour, ni 2 jours, ni 5 jours, ni 10 jours, ni 20 jours, mais un mois tout entier, jusqu'à ce qu'elle vous sorte par les narines et que vous en soyez dégoûtés. Cela arrivera parce que vous avez rejeté l’Eternel qui est au milieu de vous et parce que vous avez pleuré devant Lui en disant: Pourquoi donc sommes-nous sortis d'Egypte?’” (Nombres 11:19- 20). Et puis, “La viande était encore entre leurs dents et n’avait même pas encore été mâchée lorsque la colère de l'Eternel s'enflamma contre le peuple. L'Eternel frappa le peuple d’un très grand fléau” (Nombres 11:33). Quelques décennies plus tard, alors que le peuple d’Israël quittait le mont Hor par le chemin de la mer Rouge pour contourner le pays d’Édom, il “parla contre Dieu et contre Moïse [disant]: “Pourquoi nous avez-vous fait quitter l'Egypte, si c’est pour que nous mourions dans le désert? En effet, il n'y a ni pain, ni eau, et nous sommes dégoûtés de cette misérable nourriture.” Alors l’Eternel envoya des serpents venimeux contre le peuple. Ils mordirent le peuple et beaucoup d’Israélites moururent” (Nombres 21:5-6). 

   Bien-aimés, la destruction attend toute personne qui ne se réjouit pas dans l’Éternel notre Dieu, quiconque refuse de se nourrir du Pain de Vie. Se réjouir uniquement dans notre Dieu et Sauveur Jésus-Christ et se nourrir de Celui qui est le Pain de Vie apporte la moisson de paix, de joie, de vie, de liberté et de sainteté. Pour ceux d’entre nous qui sont en Christ, il n’y a plus d’inimitié avec Dieu mais la paix; il n’y a plus d’endurcissement de cœur mais la joie dans le Seigneur; il n’y a plus d’asservissement au péché, à la chair et à Satan, mais la liberté – la liberté de faire ce qui est juste aux yeux de l’Eternel notre Dieu. Et finalement, il n’y a plus de prostitution spirituelle, mais la sainteté – grâce à la justice du Fils de Dieu qui nous est imputée et à notre sanctification par son Esprit.

La dépendance totale de toutes choses à l'égard du Pain de Vie

     Aucune créature au ciel et sur terre ne peut persister en dehors du Dieu Créateur. Les objets inanimés, les planètes et les galaxies sont soutenus par le Seigneur; tous les êtres vivants – des bactéries au géant Léviathan – dépendent de Dieu, Celui qui seul peut assurer leur vitalité et leur persistance. Sans la subsistance nécessaire que Dieu fournit, les créatures vivantes perdent leur vitalité et leur force au fil du temps et finissent par mourir. Dieu fournit providentiellement aux animaux de la nourriture pour leur subsistance, chacun selon son espèce. Aux plantes, Il donne tout ce dont elles ont besoin pour croître: le soleil, l’eau et les nutriments du sol. Parlant de la provision de Dieu pour tous les êtres vivants, le psalmiste écrit: “Tous regardent avec espoir vers Toi, et Tu leur donnes la nourriture au moment voulu. Tu ouvres Ta main et Tu combles de biens tout ce qui vit” (Psaumes 145:15-16). Psaumes 147:7-9 dit: “Chantez en l’honneur de l’Eternel avec reconnaissance, célébrez notre Dieu avec la harpe! Il couvre le ciel de nuages, Il prépare la pluie pour la terre, Il fait pousser l’herbe sur les montagnes. Il donne la nourriture au bétail et aux petits du corbeau quand ils crient.” Tout comme ces créatures, l’homme ne peut pas vivre sans Dieu. Cependant, contrairement à celles-ci – qui n’ont qu’un corps – l’être humain a un corps et une âme. Et le corps de l’homme ainsi que son âme ont besoin de nourriture. C'est pourquoi l’Eternel, le Dieu Créateur, déclare: “L'homme ne vivra pas de pain seulement, mais de toute parole qui sort de la bouche de Dieu” (Matthieu 4:4). 

     L'homme a besoin de pain physique pour son corps, mais en même temps il doit nourrir son âme de la Parole. Car la Parole est le pain qui nourrit l’âme, le Pain qui donne la vie, qui est venu dans le monde pour nous donner la vie. À propos de Lui, Jean a écrit dans Jean 1:1-4, “Au commencement, la Parole existait déjà. La Parole était avec Dieu et la Parole était Dieu. Elle était au commencement avec Dieu. Tout a été fait par elle et rien de ce qui a été fait n’a été fait sans elle. En elle il y avait la vie, et cette vie était la lumière des êtres humains.” La Parole – laquelle est le Pain de l’âme, le Pain de Vie – est le Dieu éternel et Créateur de l'univers. Il a quitté son trône au plus haut des cieux et est entré dans le royaume de l’humanité afin que tous puissent vivre par Lui. À propos de Lui, Jean a également écrit dans 1 Jean 1:1-2, “Ce qui était dès le commencement, ce que nous avons entendu, ce que nous avons vu de nos yeux, ce que nous avons contemplé et que nos mains ont touché concernant la Parole de la vie, nous vous l’annonçons. La vie, en effet, s’est manifestée; nous l’avons vue, nous en sommes témoins et nous vous l’annonçons, cette vie éternelle qui était auprès du Père et qui s’est manifestée à nous.”

     La Parole de la vie est coéternelle et coégale au Père et d’une même essence avec Lui. La Parole est la deuxième personne de la Trinité, le Dieu-Homme Jésus-Christ. Il est à la fois le Créateur et le Récréateur. Au commencement, Il a créé toutes choses, et il y a environ deux mille ans, Il est entré dans le royaume des hommes pour leur donner une nouvelle vie. À ce propos, Paul écrit: “Si quelqu'un est en Christ, il est une nouvelle créature. Les choses anciennes sont passées; voici, toutes choses sont devenues nouvelles” (2 Corinthiens 5:17). Le Christ Seigneur est le Pain qui donne la vie, Celui qui redonne la vie à nos âmes mortes – “Je suis le Pain de la vie”, déclare le Seigneur notre Dieu dans Jean 6:48. 

     Le Christ Seigneur est pour l’âme plus que ce que le pain physique est pour le corps. Le pain physique ne donne pas la vie au corps, mais le nourrit tout simplement. Le Seigneur Jésus est l’Auteur de la vie et Celui qui soutient toutes choses. Il donne la vie au corps et à l'âme et les soutient. Au commencement, “L’Eternel Dieu façonna l’homme avec la poussière de la terre. Il insuffla un souffle de vie dans ses narines et *l'homme devint un être vivant”(Genèse 2:7). Cependant, l’homme est tombé dans le péché et est mort, et nul autre que le Christ Seigneur n’a le pouvoir de lui redonner la vie. Le Christ Seigneur est le Pain vivifiant qui redonne la vie à ceux qui sont spirituellement morts. Il est la vie éternelle. Sans le Christ, les fils des hommes restent spirituellement morts et sont sujets à la seconde mort, c'est-à-dire l'éternité en enfer.

     La mort est le dernier ennemi de l’homme; mais le Christ Seigneur, le Pain de vie, est le Vainqueur de la mort. Il a vaincu la mort à la croix et a le pouvoir de redonner la vie à nos âmes mortes et nous emmener au Père. Il a été envoyé dans ce monde par le Père afin que quiconque se nourrit de Lui puisse être ramené de la mort spirituelle à la vie et échapper au tourment éternel de l’enfer, c'est-à-dire la seconde mort. Parlant de Lui-même dans Jean 6:58b, le Seigneur dit: “celui qui mange de ce pain vivra éternellement.”

     Nous devons nous nourrir du Christ, le Pain de la vie, afin de passer de la mort à la vie et du domaine des ténèbres au Royaume de lumière, le Royaume du Christ. En tant que pécheurs, nous sommes par nature spirituellement morts et appartenons au royaume des ténèbres. De plus, nous sommes incapables de nous libérer de l’aiguillon de la mort; nous sommes incapables de venir à la Lumière, parce que nous haïssons la Lumière. Le Christ, le Seigneur notre Dieu, est Lumière et Vie: Lui seul peut dissiper les ténèbres dans lesquelles nous marchons à tâtons et redonner la vie à nos âmes mortes. Car la méchanceté et l’hostilité envers Dieu sont des marques déterminantes de notre nature. Il n'y a rien en nous qui nous pousse vers la Lumière, rien qui se réjouit dans l’Eternel: nous haïssons Dieu de toutes nos facultés, nous n’avons aucune affection pour les choses de l'Esprit; car la puissance de la chair est à l’œuvre en nous – comme le Seigneur Lui-même le déclare dans Jean 3:6, “Ce qui est né de la chair est chair, et ce qui est né de l’Esprit est esprit” Par cette déclaration, notre Seigneur souligne d’une part la condition encline au péché d'un cœur non régénéré et sa capacité naturelle à réaliser uniquement ce qui est cohérent avec sa nature intrinsèquement pécheresse. Et d’un autre côté, notre Seigneur témoigne du fait qu’un cœur né de l’Esprit est attaché aux choses de l’Esprit parce qu’il est de l’Esprit. Il souligne ainsi le manque d'accord entre le fruit d’un cœur non régénéré et celui d’un cœur régénéré pour clarifier davantage ce qu’Il dit dans le verset précédent dans sa réponse à Nicodème: “En vérité, en vérité, Je te le dis, si un homme ne naît d’eau et d’Esprit, il ne peut entrer dans le Royaume de Dieu” (v. 5). Car celui qui n'est pas né de l'Esprit appartient au royaume des ténèbres; il est esclave du péché et de la mort. Et comme il n’y a pas de communion entre la lumière et les ténèbres, et que l’impureté et la sainteté ne peuvent pas non plus cohabiter ensemble, une telle personne ne peut pas entrer dans la présence glorieuse de Dieu.

     Un homme spirituellement mort ne saurait plaire à Dieu; car un cadavre ne dégage pas un arôme agréable mais une puanteur désagréable. Une personne spirituellement morte n’est qu’une odeur nauséabonde dans les narines de l’Eternel, le Saint. Tout ce qu’il fait est une abomination aux yeux de Dieu – Proverbes 15:8a dit, “L’Eternel a en horreur les sacrifices offerts par les méchants”; Proverbes 28:9, “Si quelqu’un détourne l’oreille pour ne pas écouter la loi, sa prière même est une abomination.” 

  L’homme naturel est une personne spirituellement morte, une puanteur nauséabonde dans les narines de l’Eternel; il doit naître de nouveau pour devenir un arôme agréable à Dieu. Et cette nouvelle vie est exclusivement donnée par le Fils bien-aimé de Dieu – Jésus-Christ, le Pain de Vie. Car le Père L’a envoyé dans le monde pour donner la vie aux fils des hommes. “C’est l’Esprit qui vivifie; la chair ne sert à rien. Les paroles que Je vous ai dites sont Esprit et vie”, déclare le Seigneur Jésus dans Jean 6:63. Toute tentative d’atteindre l’éveil spirituel par des moyens humains est inadéquate. C’est l’Esprit du Christ qui ravive l’âme et la préserve. Par conséquent, celui qui rejette le Christ, le Pain de Vie, choisit la mort; il prive son âme de la seule nourriture qui existe et se nourrit de cendres. Mais tous ceux qui se nourrissent du Pain de vie passent de la mort à la vie; ils sont nourris et unis en un seul corps, le corps du Christ, et ils tirent leur croissance de Dieu (Colossiens 2:19). 

     Mon cher ami, travailles-tu pour la nourriture qui périt? Te nourris-tu d’autre chose que de Jésus-Christ le Pain de Vie? Je t’en supplie d’arrêter d'empoisonner ton âme. Arrête de te nourrir de cendres! Détourne-toi du travail vain et recherche le Pain Vivant. Car à moins que tu ne te nourrisses du Pain Vivant, ta destinée éternelle sera une misère totale. Tourne-toi vers le Christ maintenant. Car “Il n’y a de salut en aucun autre, car il n’y a sous le ciel aucun autre nom qui ait été donné parmi les hommes, par lequel nous devions être sauvés” (Actes 4:12). Le système mondial pervers prétend qu’il existe de nombreuses voies vers le salut. Il s’agit simplement d’une tromperie conçue par Satan et ses agents humains pour maintenir les gens dans l’obscurité, sous la domination de Satan et sous l’emprise de la mort. Il n’y a qu’un seul chemin du salut. Ce chemin, le Chemin, est l’Homme Jésus-Christ, le Pain Vivant. Toute autre voie n’est qu’une arnaque et une imposture de la part du diable et de ses agents qui exaltent l’homme au-dessus de Dieu et affirment de manière trompeuse que l’effort humain est un remède au problème du péché. Le Très-Haut et Saint, contre qui nous avons péché, a déclaré par la bouche de son prophète: “le juste vivra par sa foi” (Habacuc 2:4). L’Eternel n’a pas dit: le juste vivra par ses bonnes actions, car”Nous sommes tous comme des impurs, et toute notre justice est comme un vêtement souillé; nous sommes tous flétris comme une feuille, et nos crimes nous emportent comme le vent” (Esaïe 64:5). Par conséquent, nous devons compter sur l’œuvre parfaite de son Fils Jésus-Christ afin d’être considérés comme justes par Dieu. 

     La justification est exclusivement par la foi. Aucune quantité de bonnes œuvres ne peut rendre une personne juste, et les œuvres d’un homme ne peuvent pas non plus détourner la colère de Dieu. “Aucun homme, cependant, ne peut racheter un autre. Aucun ne saurait payer à Dieu sa propre rançon. Car le rachat de leur vie est bien trop coûteux et n’aura jamais lieu; ils ne vivront pas toujours, ils n’éviteront pas la vue de la fosse” (Psaumes 49:8-10). Seules la personne et l’œuvre du Christ, le Dieu-Homme, peuvent détourner et ont détourné la colère de Dieu de tous ceux qui ont mis leur confiance en Lui. Car par le sang de sa croix, le Christ a expié la totalité de leurs péchés et a satisfait à la colère de Dieu. Ils échapperont donc à la mort (éternité en enfer) et hériteront du Royaume de Dieu. Mais ceux qui rejettent le Christ seront retranchés du pays des vivants. Car il n’y a pas de vie pour ceux qui n’ont pas mangé le Pain de Vie. 

     Si tu n’es pas nourri par le Christ, le Pain de Vie, je t’exhorte une fois de plus à te tourner vers Lui maintenant, afin que ton âme retrouve la vie. Nourris-toi du Christ Jésus. Il est le pain de Dieu “qui descend du ciel et qui donne la vie au monde” (Jean 6:33). Aux jours d’Isaïe, l’Eternel a demandé au peuple d’Israël par l’intermédiaire de son prophète: “Pourquoi dépensez-vous de l'argent pour ce qui ne nourrit pas? Pourquoi travaillez-vous pour ce qui ne rassasie pas? Ecoutez-Moi vraiment et vous mangerez ce qui est bon, vous savourerez des plats succulents” (Ésaïe 55:2). L’Eternel pose la même question aujourd’hui à tous ceux qui, comme toi, ne se nourrissent pas du Pain de Vie: “Pourquoi dépensez-vous de l’argent pour ce qui ne nourrit pas? Pourquoi travaillez-vous pour ce qui ne rassasie pas? Ecoutez-Moi vraiment et vous mangerez ce qui est bon, vous savourerez des plats succulents.” Tourne-toi donc vers Lui maintenant, afin que ton âme soit vivifiée et préservée. Incline tes oreilles vers ses paroles, elles “sont esprit et vie”. Cherche l’Eternel maintenant que sa grâce est encore disponible. Il redonnera la vie à ton âme morte et tu ne seras plus une puanteur nauséabonde dans ses narines mais un arôme vivant et agréable. De plus, tu deviendras enfant de Dieu et auras part en l’héritage de son Fils bien-aimé. Alors repens-toi de tes péchés maintenant et mets ta confiance en Christ le Seigneur sans plus tarder.

[pigeonneaux]

Qu'est ce que je donnerai pas pour avoir une table de massage avec un trou pour le visage la

[proustianlesbian]

so like this morning i suddenly had a violent stomach ache so during my break i saw that i was on my period. but when i left the bathroom, my sight got so blurry and i had no balance anymore and sounds were a bit muffled. i tried to go back to get my stuff but really couldn't walk and almost fell, girls helped me but i really couldn't see anything so i don't know who helped me. but like i had to go to the infirmary which wasn't far at all in a wheelchair (when i hate having the attention of people i don't know on me). but period pain really gave me spasms for at least an hour before i could go back home two hours later. and during my walk to my home (a bit more than 10 minutes because i walked slowly) i threw up three times because pain hurted me so much (i was alone in the street). but after a few hours of rest, i could go get my hair cut and now i kinda slay.

[mellosdrawings]

When you need to declare your love to your wife but it is so strong you can't help but revert back to french.

You know the perk of being french ? I can write Rook rambling haha !

(Though I am incapable of writing poetry, so here is the poem I used and its approximate translation:

Je respire où tu palpites,

Tu sais ; à quoi bon, hélas !

Rester là si tu me quittes,

Et vivre si tu t'en vas ?

(I breathe where you throb, you know ;

What for, alas! stay here if you leave me, and live if you go away?)

A quoi bon vivre, étant l'ombre

De cet ange qui s'enfuit ?

A quoi bon, sous le ciel sombre,

N'être plus que de la nuit ?

(What good is living, being the shadow of this fleeing angel?

What for, under the dark sky, being from the night only?)

Je suis la fleur des murailles

Dont avril est le seul bien.

Il suffit que tu t'en ailles

Pour qu'il ne reste plus rien.

(I am the flower of your walls for which April is the only good.

You only need to leave for me to be left with nothing.)

Tu m'entoures d'Auréoles;

Te voir est mon seul souci.

Il suffit que tu t'envoles

Pour que je m'envole aussi.

(You surround me with Halos;

I care only about seeing you.

You need only to take flight for me to fly too.)

Si tu pars, mon front se penche ;

Mon âme au ciel, son berceau,

Fuira, dans ta main blanche

Tu tiens ce sauvage oiseau.

(Should you leave, my front/forehead shall lean ;

My soul in the sky, its cradle, will flee,

In your white hand you hold this wild bird.)

Que veux-tu que je devienne

Si je n'entends plus ton pas ?

Est-ce ta vie ou la mienne

Qui s'en va ? Je ne sais pas.

(What would I become, should I not hear your steps anymore?

Is it your life or mine that is fleeing ?

I cannot tell?)

Quand mon orage succombe,

J'en reprends dans ton coeur pur ;

Je suis comme la colombe

Qui vient boire au lac d'azur.

(When my thunder dies down, I take some from your pure heart ;

I am like the dove that just drank in the azur lake.)

L'amour fait comprendre à l'âme

L'univers, salubre et béni ;

Et cette petite flamme

Seule éclaire l'infini

(Love makes the soul understand the universe, healthful and blessed ;

And this lonely little flame shines upon the endless)

Sans toi, toute la nature

N'est plus qu'un cachot fermé,

Où je vais à l'aventure,

Pâle et n'étant plus aimé.

(Without you, all of nature is only a closed cell where I go on an adventure,

Pale and no longer beloved.)

Sans toi, tout s'effeuille et tombe ;

L'ombre emplit mon noir sourcil ;

Une fête est une tombe,

La patrie est un exil.

(Without you, everything falls apart ;

Shadows fill my dark eyebrow ;

A feast/party is a tomb,

The homeland is an exile.)

Je t'implore et réclame ;

Ne fuis pas loin de mes maux,

O fauvette de mon âme

Qui chantes dans mes rameaux !

(I beg and demand ;

Do not flee any longer from my pain,

O warbler of my soul who sings in my twigs!)

De quoi puis-je avoir envie,

De quoi puis-je avoir effroi,

Que ferai-je de la vie

Si tu n'es plus près de moi ?

(What could I want?

What could I be afraid of?

What would I do of life without you by my side?)

Tu portes dans la lumière,

Tu portes dans les buissons,

Sur une aile ma prière,

Et sur l'autre mes chansons.

(You carry in the light,

You carry in the bushes,

On a wing my prayers,

On the other my songs.)

Que dirai-je aux champs que voile

L'inconsolable douleur ?

Que ferai-je de l'étoile ?

Que ferai-je de la fleur ?

(What will I tell to the fields that hide my inconsolable pain?

What would I do of the star?

What would I do of the flower?)

Que dirai-je au bois morose

Qu'illuminait ta douceur ?

Que répondrai-je à la rose

Disant : " Où donc est ma soeur ?"

(What will I tell to the morose forest that illuminated your softness?

What will I answer at the rose asking "Where is my sister?")

J'en mourrai ; fuis, si tu l'oses.

A quoi bon, jours révolus !

Regarder toutes ces choses

Qu'elle ne regarde plus ?

(I would die ;

Flee if you dare.

What is the point, days gone! of looking at all those she no longer looks at?)

Que ferai-je de la lyre,

De la vertu, du destin ?

Hélas ! et, sans ton sourire,

Que ferai-je du matin ?

(What would I do of the lyre, of virtue, of destiny?

Alas! And, without your smile,

What would I do of the morning?)

Que ferai-je, seul, farouche,

Sans toi, du jour et des cieux,

De mes baisers sans ta bouche,

Et de mes pleurs sans tes yeux !

(What would I do, alone, wild, without you, of days and heavens,

Of my kisses without your lips,

And of my tears without your eyes!)

Il suffit que tu t'envoles pour que je m'envoles aussi - Victor Hugo

(You need only take flight for me to fly too))

[julietteverduzier]

Autour du four à pain

Deux semaines de workshop pour concevoir et construire un espace public villageois autour du nouveau four à pain de Thereval (50).

Un projet porté par l’association habitante Bouillonnant Valthère, en partenariat avec des professionnels de la terre (COBBAUGE) et du bois (TERR’O et K. Maruyama) dans un esprit de mutualisation des savoirs et de création collective.

[hwaightme]

Impressionism

(masterlist) (taglist)

🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too. 

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him. 

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response. 

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath. 

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt. 

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture. 

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers. 

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home. 

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before. 

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger. 

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries. 

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting. 

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth. 

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story. 

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served. 

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring. 

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in. 

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him. 

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet. 

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-” 

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore. 

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement. 

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it. 

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another. 

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin. 

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed. 

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one. 

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought. 

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.” 

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow. 

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past. 

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within. 

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you. 

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine. 

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own. 

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you. 

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports. 

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

🩸 perma-taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @lightinyreads @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @alyszaen @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy

[greedandenby]

Transcript of all the French dialogue in Interview with the Vampire S2 E03 "No Pain".

You asked, yours Frenchly delivered. Bonne lecture ! (long-ass post incoming)

(did not use timestamps as these may vary, but rather scene descriptions)

Armand’s Children of Darkness:

Coven vampire: La mort punira toute infraction de la première et de la cinquième des grandes lois.

Armand sees Lestat at the theatre (performing Marivaux’s Le Triomphe de l’amour):

Lestat (as Arlequin): Ah ! Vous êtes donc des femmes !… (vous êtes deux) friponnes !… et par-dessus le marché, un honnête homme !...

Armand: Tu es le bâtard de Magnus. Je sais que tu peux m’entendre, mon enfant.

Lestat: Qui m’appelle « enfant » ?

Armand: Il est mort, n’est-ce pas ? Je peux prendre soin de toi. Je peux t’apprendre ce qu’il ne t’a pas appris. Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Mais de quoi s’agit-il, mes libérales dames ?

Armand: Viens à moi.

Lestat (as Arlequin): Encore plus honnête.

Armand confronts Lestat and Nicolas:

Armand (to the coven vampires): À la maison.

Coven vampires: Oui, maître. Désolés, maître.

Lestat (to Nicolas): Tu es si distrayant dans la fosse que je ne me rappelle plus du texte.

Nicolas: Je ne peux pas lire mes notes quand j’entends tes pieds sur le plancher… Nous allons nous faire attraper.

Lestat: Je l’espère… Entends-tu cela ?

Nicolas: Par-dessus tes incessantes divagations ? Comment pourrais-je entendre quoi que ce soit ?... Qu’est-ce ?

Lestat: Là… Quelqu’un me regarde.

Nicolas: Tu es toujours au centre de l’attention.

Lestat: Il pense que je ne sais pas qu’il est là.

Nicolas: Est-ce encore de la poésie ?... Viens plus près de mon oreille. Je peux seulement comprendre quand tu t’approches.

Lestat: En pardessus.

Armand: Gardes-tu ce garçon comme aide-mémoire ?

Nicolas: Lestat, connais-tu ce gitan ?

Armand: La solitude que tu ressens, il ne l’atteindra jamais. Sois avec les tiens.

[Side note: they translated « the loneliness you feel, he will not reach it » for « atteindra », but i think Armand is actually saying « il ne l’éteindra jamais », in the sense of « he will not extinguish it ». It makes a LOT more sense.]

Lestat: Et abandonner mon gilet à carreaux ? Mon col jabot ? Vivre comme une larve ?

Nicolas: Lestat, que se passe-t-il ?

Lestat: Rien. Il n’est rien… Bonne nuit, homme étrange !

Armand: Lestat ! Là !

Nicolas: Lestat ?

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Tu ne lui as pas révélé ta vraie nature, n’est-ce pas ?

Lestat: Quel est ce pouvoir ?... Je n’ai pas ce pouvoir !

Armand: Mais tu l’auras. Tu as le sang de Magnus. Tu gâches ton potentiel en menant cette vie-là.

Lestat: Relâche-le ! Relâche-le !!!

Armand: Et voici un buveur de sang !

Lestat: Qui es-tu ?

Armand: Je suis Armand. Je suis le chef de ton clan.

Lestat: Nicki !

Armand: Ramène ton gilet chez les larves, veux-tu ?

Lestat confronts the Children of Darkness:

Armand: Je suis heureux que tu sois venu. Il est sain et sauf.

Lestat: Il est saigné. Il ne se réveille pas… Est-ce si amusant de vivre dans une telle saleté et la puanteur ?

Coven vampire: Nous devons servir Dieu au travers de Satan et au travers d’Armand.

Lestat: Ah… Une trinité crottée.

Coven vampire: Tu vas attirer la colère de Dieu sur nous avec tes péchés !

Lestat: Qui sont ?

Coven vampire: Tu vis parmi les mortels ! Tu marches dans le temple de Dieu !

Lestat: Il parle de l’homme triste avec les mains clouées ? Ah… Bien. C’est un arbre tombé. Raboté simplement pour les simples d’esprit. Du même arbre, on fit le pied d’une table et, là, une flûte ! Rampez hors de cette prison qu’il bâtit pour vous… Dieu… Satan… Armand… Est-ce vrai ? Hm ? Nous sommes les Dieux. Vous êtes les Dieux !

Lestat visits Armand:

Lestat: Que s’est-il passé ?

Armand: Je pourrais parler jusqu’à la fin du monde sans jamais te dire tout ce que tu as détruit ici.

Lestat: Nous sommes seuls. Satan ne nous écoute pas… Comment transformes-tu l’air en feu ? Comment bouges-tu des objets par la simple force de ton esprit ?

Armand: Demande-t-il, tout en dansant dans les cendres… Tu as fait de ton Nicolas l’un des nôtres ? Est-ce que le garçon a accepté le don ?... Trop fragile. J’aurais pu te prévenir.

Lestat: Il s’en remettra.

Armand: Certainement pas.

Lestat: J’ai une idée.

Lestat performs for Armand at the theatre (again, Le Triomphe de l’amour) :

Lestat (as Arlequin): Oh ! Mes mignonnes, avant que de vous en aller, il faudra bien, s’il vous plaît, que nous…

(As Lestat) Ils viennent accompagnés, séduits dans un élan collectif. Ils rient ensemble, pleurent ensemble.

Armand: Qu’est-ce, pour un vampire ?

Lestat: Une opportunité. Hamlet est mort sous les coups d’une lame empoisonnée, mais l’acteur qui gît sous leurs yeux respire encore. Dans ce temple, croire protège. Annonce que tu es un vampire. Bois le sang à la vue de tous. Mets en scène les rituels de ton clan, pas depuis les égouts mais depuis le premier balcon.

Armand: Je n’ai pas de clan. Tu m’en as privé.

Lestat: Au contraire, maître.

(as Arlequin): Je n’ai encore qu’un commencement d’envie de n’en plus faire.

Outside the theatre:

… assouvir vos cruelles envies au théâtre des vampires !

At the theatre performance:

Victim: J’ai tant d’années ! Tant d’années !

Theatre vampire: Des années ? La mort ne respecte pas l’âge !

Armand: Regarde comme ils sont immobiles. Ils croient vraiment que c’est une pièce de théâtre. Des clous sur une porte à Wittenberg. Tu as mené une réforme, Lestat.

Lestat: Nous l’avons fait ensemble.

Armand: Tu fais une meilleure Mort.

Lestat: La faux fait tout le travail.

Armand: Après une centaine de nuits ici, tu t’ennuies déjà ?

Lestat: Seulement avec le jeu d’acteur… Allons-y.

Armand: Ici ? Maintenant ?

Lestat: C’est une loge spacieuse.

Armand: Il nous observe.

Lestat: Il devrait regarder sa partition.

Armand: Lestat… Je t’aime.

Lestat: Oui… Je t’aime aussi.

Aaaand that's it (for now), folks! Will do subsequent episodes if there's more French in them (more likely than not!). Bisous !

Episode 2 here

Episode 4 here

Tagging the peeps who requested: @nalyra-dreaming @indelicateink @chicalepidoptera @zailafaneez

[shapelytimber]

LIBERTINE !

Fuck the rushed dogshit ending, Wee John and Izzy continued to do drag together, sailing on the revenge from town to town. Don't miss their new "libertine" show !!

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Ok after more than a week of reflexion, and a chat with my evil advisor @quijicroix (who is a genius)... Izzy Hands should have sang "libertine" by mylène farmer instead of la fucking vie en rose. Why ? 1) mylène farmer is a very famous french queer artist 2) her songs (especially libertine) are used all the time in drag shows in france 3) la vie en rose as taken other the years a very bougie parisian conotation, so to have a PIRATE sing it ?? Wtf ? 4) she often performed with drag queens on stage- and I could go on.

But all I have to say is, please please please if you've never heard it or seen the clip- Go watch it right now ! It's so fucking good !!! (cw nudity and a bit of blood. Also old ass guns)

Wee john gets to be cunt and play the vilain, Izzy (who is more of a drag king) gets to play the gender protag <3 the show of course include a choreographed fight scene at the end

Process + other famous french songs rec vvv

VERY rough colors

Sketch

And just to be petty, here are other famous french songs that would have been way better than la vie en rose :

- Le bien qui fait mal (Mozart l'opera rock) ("I have joy in pain, I get drunk on this poison until I loose my sanity". The most izzy ass song you can get, it's horny kinky angsty BDSM themed song what more do you want ? Ok to be fair it's more s1 Izzy, but still !)

- Mourir sur scène (Dalida) ("I want to die on stage". well it's less a love song and more foreshadowing for the end, but if Izzy's death had been better written, less rushed, or happenned in an hypothetical s3 (I really don't think they'll have one tho-), it would have been so good.)

- Les demons de minuit (Images) (sillier for sure, but horny and iconic. Alas it's very het)

My final note on this will be, why french ?? Because Abba Lay all your love on me or the winner takes it all would have been so fucking good-

PS : I did most of the rendering very tired and a bit drunk after a party hfrifgruigfrui I had so much to correct after that what a nightmare

[boobo13cambridge]

Send That Picture Promise I'm A Keep It | Kylian Mbappé

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x f.Reader

Warnings: Fluff, sexting, masturbation (m.)

Summary: What’s it like texting when your husband is a really busy athlete? 

A/N: Hello, everyone! I’ve been trying to finish up all my old requests before I get to the new ones. I was actually supposed to post this May 5th, and its now June, oops. I’ve seen all your prompts for the new Kylian smut, and I love all your ideas. I’ll try my best to get them done because for once I have nothing to this summer except find a job, lmao. I swear having a job ready for when you graduate is not easy at all. Uni should’ve prepared us better for the post-grad life. Anyways, as always don’t forget to like, comment, and repost! Enjoy, lovelies ❣️

Kylian: bébé 

Kylian: bébééé

Kylian: bééébééé

Kylian: béééébéééééééééé

Kylian: Arrête de m’ignorer 😢 (stop ignoring me)

Kylian: jte veux  (i want you)

Kylian: j besoins de toi (i need you)

Kylian: envoie t seins (send your tits)

The incessant buzzing of your phone that was conveniently located in your back pocket was proving to bea major distraction as you were trying your best to follow what your boss was trying to say. You knew who it was without even having to look, the culprit - a certain brown-eyed professional athlete who was called away on international duty. 

While you wished you could be there to cheer him on as France played against Gibraltar in Faro, you were unfortunately tied up at work as you had to deal with an important client. As a divorce lawyer, you were constantly surprised to learn just how selfish and idiotic some people could be. You’d think a firefighter would be too busy trying to save people to have two mistress with three children each. Alas, humanity never failed to disappoint. To add fuel to the fire, this particular client absolutely refused to comprise on anything and insisted that he still loved his wife despite being a piece of shit.

Seeing all these cases, you were grateful that Kylian wasn't like that. To be honest, in the beginning of your relationship, you were very self-conscious as footballers were known to be cheaters. A few people (who were no longer in your life) warned you that your husband would inevitably turn out like most people in his profession and leave you for a model. Kylian, on the other hand,  turned out to be nothing like that. He was consistently loving, truthful, and patient with you. The media's attempts to tear your relationship apart still pained you deeply, especially the heartbroken look in Kylian's eyes as you shouted at him, accusing him without even giving him a chance to explain.

But returning to the present, your boss finally released you from the conversation as her secretary reminded her that her husband was waiting on the line. Your boss, an intimidating woman whom you respected greatly, was the only one who hired you straight after graduation, despite most law firms turning you away. You suspected they viewed you as nothing more than a trophy wife destined to retire after having a few kids. Céleste Beauregard was the only one who gave you a chance, and for that you would be eternally grateful.

Walking back to your desk, you pull out your phone and look at the messages Kylian send you. Letting out a snort at his antics, you reply.

You: t’a pas un match à jouer toi?  (don’t you have a match to play?)

Kylian: c koi le rapport bb??    (what’s the correlation baby??)

You: tu c ke chui au travail kyky  (you know I’m at work kyky)

Kylian: allez bb juste une photo 🥺 (cmon baby its just one picture)

You: ds t rêve (in your dreams)

Kylian: fais pas ca (don’t do this)

Kylian: arrête de faire ta difficile (stop being so difficult)

You: t un gros pervert Mbappé 🤢 (you’re a big pervert Mbappé)

You: j d’autres choses à faire ds la vie ke de t’envoyer d pics de mes seins              franchement  (I have better things to do than send you pics of my tits seriously)

You: t’a pas déjà d pics? (don’t you already have some?)

Kylian: j’en veux d fresh svp (I need new ones pls)

You: tu m’énerve (you’re annoying)

In moments like these, you couldn't help but appreciate having a private office with tinted glass. Glancing around cautiously to ensure no one was present, you carefully unbuttoned your dress shirt, unveiling a seductive, lacy red push-up bra. With one hand, you delicately squeezed your breasts together, your cheeks flushed crimson as you quickly snap a picture and send it to him. 

Buttoning your shirt, you feel a mixture of excitement and anticipation, as you nervously bit your lip, holding your breath as you observed the three blinking dots in your message thread. You couldn't help but giggle at doing something so risky at your workplace.

Kylian: putain bb chui bandé 🤤 (fuck bb i’m hard) 

Kylian: si tt là ça serait parti en branlette espagnole 😏 (if you were here I would’ve fucked your tits)

You: t dégeulasse 🙄 (youre disgusting)

Kylian: tu m’aimes pareille ❤️ (you love me tho)

You: vrm pas  (not really)

You: envoie moi t seins toi (you send me your tits)

Kylian: jpeux tenvoyer qq chose de mieux 😘 (i’ll send you something better)

Your heart raced with anticipation, a symphony of palpitations echoing in your chest, as you waited impatiently for your husband to send you a picture of himself.

As the picture popped up, you felt liquid heat pool in your panties as your breathing deepened looking at the nude Kylian had sent you. 

The dim lights showed his hand wrapped firmly around his throbbing cock. Your gaze was fixated on the engorged head of his member, a vibrant hue of crimson, as a drop of precum bubbled on top. You could feel yourself throbbing as you feasted on the photo. Waves of pleasure surged through your core, causing your body to pulse with an insatiable hunger.

You: merde kyky ta pas le droit de m’envoyer sa quand tu c ke jpeux rien   faire (shit kyky you can’t just send me this when you know i cant do anything about it)

Kylian: enjoy bb 😘

You: ??

You looked at his message confused, not really sure what he meant. A few minutes later, he sends you a video that ignited a blush so intense it flushed the very roots of your hair.

In the video, he moved with tantalizing slowness, his strong, veiny arms caressing his length with deliberate, seductive strokes. Each movement of his arm drove your senses ablaze. The air around you thickened with the sound of his sinful moans, weaving a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Your eyes were fixated on the mesmerizing sight, unable to tear themselves away from the erotic scene playing on your small screen. Your breath hitched as he swiped a bead of precum, his fingers glistening with the essence of his desire. 

It was when a primal groan escaped his soft, pink lips with the sound of your name on the tip of his tongue that sent a blast of ecstasy through your body, electrifying every nerve ending with longing.

Unable to contain the building heat within you, you instinctively pressed your thighs together, seeking relief from the persistent throbbing that radiated from your slick core. 

The video was two minutes long, and you were burning up so fast. As you continued to watch the captivating video, your senses became heightened, every nuance and detail etching itself into your memory. The sheer eroticism of the scene, the raw sensuality exuding from his every movement, unleashed a whirlwind of desire within you.

With every gasp and moan that escaped his lips, you felt the reverberations deep within your core. His sinful utterance of your name was like a symphony of passion, intertwining with the symphony of your racing heart. 

As his fingers swept across his velvety skin, spreading the intoxicating precum, the ache between your thighs intensified. The throbbing in your core demanded attention, aching for release. The tension built, and with every second, you grew closer to the precipice of ecstasy.

It was almost a bittersweet torment, because as much as the video set aflame your desire for him, it also intensified the ache of longing for his physical presence. With a final, lingering stroke, the video came to an end, leaving you breathless and craving more. 

You: t vrm cruel kyky (you’re so cruel kyky)

Kylian: 😘😘 mmmhhh jte vois samedi? (mmmhhh see you saturday?)

You: non, viens mtn 🥺  (no, come now)

You: jte veux trop (i need you too much)

Kylian: hahah, tu c ke jpp princesse (hahah you know i can't princess)

Kylian: mais jvai marquer un but pour toi bb (but i’ll score a goal for you bb)

You: t mieux ❤️ 🙄 (you better)

You: jtm booboo ❤️ (ily booboo)

Kylian: jtm fort mon coeur ❤️ (ily so much my heart)

You: tu veux que je t’amène qq chose bb? Je c ke tu vas rester à l'hôtel avant le match au stade (do you want me to bring you something bb? I know you’re staying at a hotel before game at the stadium?)

Kylian: ouii, t seins 🤤 (yess, your boobs)

You: ugh bye 🙄

Your playful exasperation was evident as you bid farewell to the teasing suggestion. The exchange left a lingering sense of anticipation and passion in the air, as you both were eagerly waiting to see each other again. The thought of being in his arms, of holding him and kissing him, made you long for him so bad. Looking at the time, you quickly packed your stuff and rushed home, excited to be with him.

[papillondusublime]

En ce Jour du Souvenir, portons le coquelicot et accordons une minute de silence pour tous les soldats qui se sont sacrifiés pour notre liberté! N'oublions pas non plus d'honorer nos vétérans et ceux qui servent le pays car ils le méritent. En espérant que l'avenir nous apportera des temps de paix, voici un poème de Paul Eluard:

Sur mes cahiers d’écolier Sur mon pupitre et les arbres Sur le sable sur la neige J’écris ton nom Sur toutes les pages lues Sur toutes les pages blanches Pierre sang papier ou cendre J’écris ton nom Sur les images dorées Sur les armes des guerriers Sur la couronne des rois J’écris ton nom Sur la jungle et le désert Sur les nids sur les genêts Sur l’écho de mon enfance J’écris ton nom Sur les merveilles des nuits Sur le pain blanc des journées Sur les saisons fiancées J’écris ton nom Sur tous mes chiffons d’azur Sur l’étang soleil moisi Sur le lac lune vivante J’écris ton nom Sur les champs sur l’horizon Sur les ailes des oiseaux Et sur le moulin des ombres J’écris ton nom Sur chaque bouffée d’aurore Sur la mer sur les bateaux Sur la montagne démente J’écris ton nom Sur la mousse des nuages Sur les sueurs de l’orage Sur la pluie épaisse et fade J’écris ton nom Sur les formes scintillantes Sur les cloches des couleurs Sur la vérité physique J’écris ton nom Sur les sentiers éveillés Sur les routes déployées Sur les places qui débordent J’écris ton nom Sur la lampe qui s’allume Sur la lampe qui s’éteint Sur mes maisons réunies J’écris ton nom Sur le fruit coupé en deux Du miroir et de ma chambre Sur mon lit coquille vide J’écris ton nom Sur mon chien gourmand et tendre Sur ses oreilles dressées Sur sa patte maladroite J’écris ton nom Sur le tremplin de ma porte Sur les objets familiers Sur le flot du feu béni J’écris ton nom Sur toute chair accordée Sur le front de mes amis Sur chaque main qui se tend J’écris ton nom Sur la vitre des surprises Sur les lèvres attentives Bien au-dessus du silence J’écris ton nom Sur mes refuges détruits Sur mes phares écroulés Sur les murs de mon ennui J’écris ton nom Sur l’absence sans désir Sur la solitude nue Sur les marches de la mort J’écris ton nom Sur la santé revenue Sur le risque disparu Sur l’espoir sans souvenir J’écris ton nom Et par le pouvoir d’un mot Je recommence ma vie Je suis né pour te connaître Pour te nommer Liberté.

[la-femme-au-collier-vert]

IWTV Season 2 Sources & References

(The 1st 4 were cited by the Writer’s Room)

The Ethnic Avante-Garde: Minority Cultures and World Revolution by Steven S. Lee

Paris Journal 1944-1955 by Janet Flanner (Genet)

The Vampire: A Casebook by Alan Dundes

Anne Rice’s Vampire Chronicles: An Alphabettery

The Fly cited by Jacob Anderson

King Lear by Shakespeare cited by Rolin Jones

Melmoth the Wanderer by Charles Maturin

Sebastien Melmoth by Oscar Wilde

Amadeus (1984)

The Lost Boys (1987)

Gaslight (1944)

Batman

Casablanca (1942)

Now, Voyager (1942)

The Third Man (1949) cited by Levan Akin

An American in Paris by George Gershwin (1928) cited by Daniel Hart

Moulin Rouge (2001)

The Phantom of the Opera

Les Vampires (1915)

Dracula (1931) credit to @vampchronicles_ on twt

Le Triomphe de L’amour by Pierre de Marivaux

Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin cited by Jacob Anderson

Existentialism is a Humanism by Jean Paul Sartre

Les Liaisons Dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos

Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare

How to Win Friends and Influence People by Dale Carnegie

Hamlet by William Shakespeare

Vampire’s Kiss (1988) credit to @talesfromthecrypts

Les Morts ont tous le Meme Peau by Boris Vian credit to @greedandenby

The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell

Waiting for Godot by Samuel Barclay Beckett credit to @rorscachisgay on twt

An Enemy of the People by Ibsen

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy

Vie de Voltaire by Marquis Condorcet

Simone de Beauvoir: A Critical Introduction by Edward Fullbrook and Kate Fullbrook credit to @iwtvfanevents

Nightwood by Djuna Barnes credit to @iwtvfanevents

Beloved by Toni Morrison

Artists and Salons Referenced:

R-26

Palma Vecchio

Andre Fougeron

Elsa Triollet

Fred Stein

Lisette Model

Gordon Parks

Miguel Barcelo

Taxidermied Javelina by Chris Roberts-Antieau

Ai WeiWei (wallpaper)

David Hockney (Lemons)

Wols 

The Kiss of Judas by Jakob Smits

Salome by Louis Icart

Ophelia by John Everett Millais

Shelter by Peter Macon

The Kiss by Edvard Munch

The Vampire or Love and Pain by Edvard Munch credit @iwtvasart

Ruiter on Horse by Reiger Stolk credit @ iwtvasart

Portrait of Frank Burty Haviland by Modigliani credit @iwtvasart

Self-Seers II (Death and Man) by Egon Schiele credit to @90sgreggaraki

The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters by Goya

Movie & Play Posters on set (in chronological order by year):

Tarzan and his Mate (1934)

Avec le Sourire (1936)

Les Deux Gosses (1936)

Le Jour Se Leve (1939) about a man who commits murder as a result of a love triangle and locks himself in his apartment recounting the details as the police attempt to arrest him. Credit to @laisofhyccara

Nuit de Décembre (1940)

Mademoiselle Swing (1942) about a girl who follows a troupe of swing musicians to Paris.

Les Enfents du Paradis (1945) about a woman with many suitors including an actor and an aristocrat.

Fantomas (1946) about a sadistic criminal mastermind. This version includes a hideout in the catacombs where he traps people.

Quai des Orfevres (1947) watch here

Monsieur Vincent (1947)

Le Cafe du Cadran (1947) about a wife’s affair with a violinist.

La Kermesse Rouge (1947) film about a jealous artist who locks up his younger wife and a fire breaks out while she’s trapped.

Morts Sans Sepulture by Jean-Paul Sartre (play) also published in English translations as “The Victors” or “Men Without Shadows” about resistance fighters captured by Vichy soldiers struggling not to give up information.

Mon Faust by Paul Valery (play)

Musical Influences:: @greedandenby collected all music used in Season 2 here.

Henry Cowell

Meredith Monk

Howling’ Wolf

Shirley Temple

Jason Lindner Big Band

The Teeth

Carlos Salzedo

Alice Coltrane

Thelonius Monk

David Lang

Caroline Shaw

Gadfly by Shostakovich (for Raglan James)

musical career of Martha Argerich

Season 1 here (these lists are updated regularly)

Season 3 here

[transparentgentlemenmarker]

Life is a battlefield where we all face challenges, big and small. Some days, the fight feels endless, and the weight of the world seems unbearable. But remember this: Within you lies an incredible STRENGTH, a resilient spirit, and an unyielding heart. When the going gets tough, dig deep. Stand tall. You are not defined by the struggles you face, but by the courage you show in overcoming them. Each setback is a setup for a greater comeback. Each stumble is a lesson in disguise. Believe in your power to transform pain into progress, fear into fuel, and doubt into determination. The road may be long and fraught with obstacles, but every step you take brings you closer to your dreams. You have survived every challenge life has thrown at you so far.

La vie est un champ de bataille où nous sommes tous confrontés à des défis, petits et grands. Certains jours, le combat semble sans fin et le poids du monde semble insupportable. Mais rappelez-vous ceci : en vous réside une force incroyable, un esprit résilient et un cœur inflexible. Lorsque les choses se compliquent, creusez profondément. Se tenir droit. Vous n’êtes pas défini par les luttes auxquelles vous faites face, mais par le courage dont vous faites preuve pour les surmonter. Chaque revers est une configuration pour un plus grand retour. Chaque faux pas est une leçon déguisée. Croyez en votre pouvoir de transformer la douleur en progrès, la peur en carburant et le doute en détermination. Le chemin est peut-être long et semé d’embûches, mais chaque pas que vous faites vous rapproche de vos rêves. Vous avez survécu à tous les défis que la vie vous a lancés jusqu'à présent.

[sabinerondissime]

Journal

Il y a 20 ans, tout commençait entre nous. Nous nous sommes connus sur un site de discussion, comme il y en avait beaucoup au début des années 2000. J'étais en vacances dans le sud et nous avons dialogué jusqu'à mon retour en Normandie. Mon divorce venait tout juste d'être prononcé. Nous nous sommes rencontrés au début du mois d'aout et cela a tout de suite fonctionné entre nous. Mais ce mois ci, il y avait les jeux olympiques et ta passion pour le sport est passé avant ton envie de me voir. Vexée, je t'ai dis que je préférais qu'on en reste là. Le 29 aout, tu m'as envoyé un message pour me souhaiter ma fête et le dialogue a reprit. Tu es venu me voir le 6 septembre et nous ne nous sommes plus jamais quitté. Les premiers mois ont été superbes. Nous sortions beaucoup, tu m'emmenais faire des choses que je n'avais jamais faites comme voir un concert d'artiste que je ne connaissais pas (Mes souliers sont rouges) aller à La nuit du Zapping au Zenith de Caen, ou voir des matchs de Hockey sur glace. Nous aimons les choses simples alors nous faisions des pique niques en bord de mer, avec juste du pain et du camembert. Nous allions aussi dans pas mal de restaurant découvrir la cuisine du monde. Et comme je vivais toujours sous le même toit que mon ex-mari, nous allions dormir à l'hotel régulièrement. Tu prévoyais toujours une surprise. Un soir, je suis arrivée après toi et tu avais pavé le couloir de l'hotel de pétales de roses, jusqu'à la chambre ou je devais te retrouver. Quelques mois plus tard, j'ai emménagé dans ta ville, dans la même rue. Mais comme mes 3 enfants vivaient avec moi et que toi, tu n'avais jamais eu d'enfant, nous avons préféré garder chacun notre appartement au cas où. En 2007, nous avons eu notre fils mais nous avons tout de même conserver nos appartements. La naissance de notre fils a changé beaucoup de chose dans notre couple et 3 ans plus tard, afin d'éviter la rupture, nous avons pris la décision de nous laisser la liberté de vivre d'autres choses. Nous avons vécu ainsi quelques années. En 2020, mes 3 premiers enfants étant partis de la maison et le confinement arrivant, tu es venu t'installer chez moi. Nous avons continuer à faire chambre à part. De toute façon, il y avait déjà quelques années qu'il n'y avait plus de relation sexuelles entre nous. Nous sommes des amis, des parents mais plus des amants et probablement plus des amoureux. Nous aimons la façon de vivre de l'autre, le calme, la tranquillité et l'âge venant, nous avons décidé de nous marier, pour mettre à l'abri celui de nous deux qui restera en vie le plus longtemps. Demain, je porterai ton nom. Même si nous sommes très différents dans nos gouts et nos passions, nous en avons une qui nous lie depuis près de 18 ans, notre fils ! Je sais, parce que tu me l'a prouvé, qu'en cas de coup dur, mes enfants et moi nous pouvons compter sur toi. Désormais, nous avons un petit-fils qui, même s'il est le fils de mon fils t'appelle Papi et se moque bien qu'il n'y ait pas de lien du sang entre vous. Alors oui, il me manque la tendresse, la passion, l'amour, les mots doux, les compliments, les câlins, la sensualité, le sexe, la séduction, les projets, les voyages à deux et tout ce qui se rattache au sentiment amoureux. Mais je sais à quel point les sentiments sont éphémères. On dit "Marriage plus vieux (et non pas pluvieux) mariage heureux" parce que justement, on a souvent fait une croix sur la folie de la passion que recherche encore les plus jeunes. Ce qui est important désormais, c'est la stabilité et la confiance et cela, tu me l'apporte jour après jour depuis 20 ans. Merci d'avoir pris soins de moi et de mes enfants. Merci d'être l'homme que tu es, avec tes qualités et tes défauts. Demain, ce sera OUI, pour le meilleur et pour le pire, jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare.

[mochademic]

100 Days of Productivity [Day: 56] || 100 Jours de Productivité [Jour: 56]

stretching in the morning, taking that first deep breath. feeling restless in the little hours.

it's been an incredibly long time since I've posted for this challenge [do these post even count anymore?]. life during & after the holidays/new years has been humbling. late starts have been more healing than i could have thought.

courses started

notes re-written

research done

attempt baking bread

journaling & reading

currently listening // Lie by quickly, quickly

Je m'étire le matin, je prends ma première grande respiration. Je me sens agitée pendant les petites heures.

cela fait incroyablement longtemps que je n'ai pas posté pour ce défi [est-ce que ces posts comptent encore ?]. la vie pendant et après les vacances/le nouvel an a été humiliante. les départs tardifs ont été plus guérissants que je n'aurais pu l'imaginer.

cours commencés

notes réécrites

recherche effectuée

tentative cuisson du pain

journal et lecture

chanson // Lie par quickly, quickly

[jacquesdor-poesie]

Une vie modeste, en toute modestie, avec des arbres et des fenêtres remplis de pluie, de nuit, de tonnerre ou d'oiseaux. Avec la main, le cœur, le pain à offrir, à partager, comme l'eau, le baiser, les bras. Et s'asseoir autour de la table, du feu, de la parole. Pour une vie simplement vie qui irait d'un moment à un autre sans haine et sans terreur. Vouloir être plusieurs, vouloir être seul, vouloir cette alternance de musique, de danse et de silence. Chercher ce qui réchauffe et fait rêver jusque dans les pierres et les absences. Accepter de n'être qu'un passager du monde, un voyageur qui s'émerveille un temps donné. Et puis repris ce temps ou plus précisément, offert à d'autres et comme ça sans fin. Simplement comme font les saisons, les ricochets, mais avec nos corps, avec nos vies. Simplement.

jacques dor