#joan of arc listening to the voices | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aaknopf · 12 days

Audio

Martyr!, the poet Kaveh Akbar’s propulsive debut novel, tells the tale of Cyrus Shams, the son of a lost mother (victim of a 1988 U. S. Naval snafu in the Persian Gulf that killed 290 people on a commercial airliner) and the long-suffering father who emigrated to Fort Wayne, IN with his baby boy. We meet Cyrus as a student of poetry at Keady University and a reformed addict. In this excerpt, he’s at the local open mic with his friends; we also share one of the poems from Cyrus’s bookofmartyrs.docx, helpfully supplied by Akbar, the poet behind the fictional poet.

. .

The Naples Tuesday night open mic had become a mainstay of Cyrus and Zee’s friendship. It was a small affair, not much to distinguish it from the myriad other open mics happening elsewhere in the country—except this was their open mic, their organic community of beautiful weirdos—old hippies singing Pete Seeger, trans kids rapping about liberation, passionate spoken-word performances by nurses and teenagers and teachers and cooks. As with any campus open mic, there was the occasional frat dude coming to play sets of smirky acoustic rap covers and overearnest breakup narratives. But even they were welcome, and mostly it felt like a safe little oasis of amongness in the relative desert of their Indiana college town, a healthy way to spend the time they were no longer using to get drunk or high. Naturally, Naples didn’t have its own sound equipment, so Zee would usually show up fifteen minutes early with his beat-up Yamaha PA to set up for Sad James, who hosted every week. Sad James was called this to distinguish him from DJ James, a guy who cycled nightly through the campus bars. DJ James was not a particularly interesting artist, but he was well-known enough in the campus community to warrant Sad James’s nominative prefix, which began as a joke but somehow stuck, and to which Sad James had grown accustomed with good humor, even occasionally doing small shows under the name. Sad James was a quiet white guy, long blond hair framing his lightly stubbled face, who played intensely solemn electronic songs, punctuated by sparse circuit-bent blips and bloops, and over time at Keady, he had become one of Zee and Cyrus’s most resilient and trusted friends. On this night, Cyrus had read a poem early, an older experimental piece from a series where he’d been assigning words to each digit 0–9, then using an Excel document to generate a lyric out of those words as the digits appeared in the Fibonacci sequence: “lips sweat teeth lips spread teeth lips drip deep deep sweat skin,” etc. It was bad, but he loved reading them out loud, the rhythms and repetitions and weird little riffs that emerged. Sad James did an older piece where the lyrics “burning with the human stain / she dries up, dust in the rain” were repeated and modulated over molten beeps from an old circuit-bent Game Boy. Zee—a drummer in his free time who idolized J Dilla and John Bonham and Max Roach and Zach Hill in equal measure—hadn’t brought anything of his own to perform that evening, but did have a little bongo to help accompany any acoustic acts who wanted it. On the patio listening to Cyrus talk about his new project, Zee said, “I could see it being a bunch of different poems in the voices of all your different historical martyr obsessions?” Then to Sad James, Zee added, “Cyrus has been plastering our apartment with these big black-and-white printouts of all their terrifying faces. Bobby Sands in our kitchen, Joan of Arc in our hallway.” Sad James made his eyes get big. “I just like having them present,” Cyrus said, slumping into his chair. He didn’t add that he’d been reading about them in the library, his mystic martyrs, that he’d taped a great grid of their grayscale printed faces above his bed, half believing it would work like those tapes that promised to teach you Spanish while you slept, that somehow their lived wisdoms would pass into him as he dreamt. Among the Tank Man, Bobby Sands, Falconetti as Joan of Arc, Cyrus had a picture of his parents’ wedding day. His mother, seated in a sleeved white dress, smiling tightly at the camera while his father, in a tacky gray tux, sat grinning next to her holding her hand. Above their heads, a group of attendees held an ornate white sheet. It was the only picture of his mother he had. Next to his mother, his father beamed, bright in a way that made it seem he was radiating the light himself. Zee went on: “So you could write a poem where Joan of Arc is like, ‘Wow, this fire is so hot’ or whatever. And then a poem where Hussain is like, ‘Wow, sucks that I wouldn’t kneel.’ You know what I mean?” Cyrus laughed. “I tried some of that! But see, that’s where it gets corny. What could I possibly say about the martyrdom of Hussain or Joan of Arc or whoever that hasn’t already been said? Or that’s worth saying?” Sad James asked who Hussain was and Zee quickly explained the trial in the desert, Hussain’s refusing to kneel and being killed for it. “You know, Hussain’s head is supposedly still buried in Cairo?” Zee said, smiling. “Cairo, which is in which country again?” Cyrus rolled his eyes at his friend, who was, as Cyrus liked to remind him when he got too greatest-ancient-civilization-on-earth about things, only half Egyptian. “Damn,” Sad James said. “I would’ve just kneeled and crossed my fingers behind my back. Who am I trying to impress? Later I could call take-backsies. I’d just say I tripped and landed on my knees or something.” The three friends laughed. Justine, an open mic regular whose Blonde on Blonde–era pea-coat-and-harmonica-rack Bob Dylan act was a mainstay of the open mic, came outside to ask Zee for a cigarette. He obliged her with an American Spirit Yellow, which she lit around the corner as she began speaking into her cell phone. In moments like these Cyrus still sometimes felt like asking to bum one too—he’d been a pack-and-a-half-a-day smoker before he got sober, and continued his habit even after he’d kicked everything else. “Quit things in the order they’re killing you,” his sponsor, Gabe, told him once. After a year clean he turned his attention to cigarettes, which he finally managed to kick completely by tapering: from one and a half packs a day to a pack to half a pack to five cigarettes and so on until he was just smoking a single cigarette every few days and then, none at all. He could probably get away with bumming the occasional cigarette now and again, but in his mind he was saving that for something momentous: his final moments lying in the grass dying from a gunshot wound, or walking in slow motion away from a burning building. “So what are you thinking then? A novel? Or like . . . a poetic martyr field guide?” asked Zee. “I’m really not sure yet. But my whole life I’ve thought about my mom on that flight, how meaningless her death was. Truly literally like, meaningless. Without meaning. The difference between 290 dead and 289. It’s actuarial. Not even tragic, you know? So was she a martyr? There has to be a definition of the word that can accommodate her. That’s what I’m after.”

More on this book and author:

Learn more about Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar.

Browse Kaveh Akbar's poetry collections and follow Kaveh on Instagram @kavehakbar.kavehakbar.

Visit our Tumblr to peruse poems, audio recordings, and broadsides in the Knopf poem-a-day series.

To share the poem-a-day experience with friends, pass along this link.

#poetry #poetry month #national poetry month #Knopfpoetry #Knopf Poetry #Kaveh Akbar #AkbarAudio #Arian Moayed #MoayedAudio #MartyrANovel #Martyr!#Martyr! A Novel #Excerpt

72 notes · View notes

leatherandmossprints · 9 months

Text

‘Joan of Arc Listening to the Voices’ by Eugène Thirion, c. 1876.

#Eugène Thirion #vintage art #classic art #art #art history #old art #painting #art details #vintage #oil painting #moody art #Joan of arc

375 notes · View notes

xohzero · 1 year

Text

maya the psychic x portrayals of jeanne d’arc experiencing her voices

inspired by gerard way’s joan of arc costume at mcr’s mexico city show 11.19.22

click for higher quality ��

joan of arc by jules bastien-lepage, 1879 ⚔️ joan of arc hearing voices by léon bénouville, 1859 ⚔️ joan of arc listening to the voices by eugène thirion, 1876

#gerard way #joan of arc #my chemical romance #mcr #artists on tumblr #maya the psychic #hesitant alien #my edit #lyric edit #mcr fanart #mcr mexico city #mcr art #digital art #procreate #my chem #fine art #jules bastien lepage #leon benouville #eugene thirion

1K notes · View notes

art-that-fucks-you-up-tournament · 9 months

Text

Behold, a bracket!

Text form below the cut because trying to copy all the 256 into the alt text sounded.... horrifying. Warning for 128 matchups, seriously, this list is long, and so I've avoided adding the artists until the polls.

a note: the pinned post has started misbehaving, so only open polls will be directly linked. closed polls instead have the results page linked in the set header, all the polls are linked from there

Set 1

The Lament for Icarus (Miao He) vs The Lament for Icarus (Herbert Draper)

The angel came to me in a fever hallucination, perched upon my bed as I returned from the bathroom. vs Sweet Brown Snail

Figures vs A Philosopher Lecturing on the Orrery

Happy Shoppers vs Hubble Deep Field

Lovers Painting vs Bath Curtain

Dr. Helen Taussig vs Une Martyre

Orangoutang étranglant un sauvage de Bornéo (Orangutan strangling a Borneo savage) vs Can’t Help Myself

Rape vs Technicolor Hiroshima

Set 2

A Walk at Dusk vs Based on “Autoportrait with the Model” by Maria-Rayevska Ivanova

Diary Page vs Les Jours Gigantesques (The Titanic Days)

Dead of Night vs You Won't

Christina's World vs Bobby

Untitled (I’m Turning Into A Specter Before Your Very Eyes And I’m Going To Haunt You) vs Two Sisters (On the Terrace)

Sharecropper vs Lustmord

The Parca and the Angel of Death vs Untitled (Zdzisław Beksiński)

Stress vs The Fallen Angel

Set 3

Device to Root Out Evil vs Travelling Light

Diana vs Fifty Days at Iliam: The Fire that Consumes All before It

The Plains, from Memory vs Exotic Bodies

Doubting Thomas vs Self-Portrait in the Bathroom Mirror

Empty Nest vs Somebody Fell From Aloft

Anguish vs If I Died

Cat in Obsolete Bath vs You're Not Boring Anymore

Salvator Mundi (Savior of the World) vs Untitled (billboard of an empty unmade bed)

Set 4

There Will Be No Miracles Here vs Symphony of the Sixth Blast Furnace

Fox Hunt vs Tarpaulin

Khajuraho Group of Monuments vs Ranakpur Jain Temple

ปราสาทสัจธรรม (The Sanctuary of Truth) vs Grande Panorama de Lisboa

Heroic Head of Pierre de Wissant, One of the Burghers of Calais vs The Weather

The Daughters of Edward Darley Boit vs If this is art

Statue of Vincent and Theo van Gogh vs Jeanne d’Arc écoutant les voix (Joan of Arc listening to the Voices)

Fountain vs Judith Slaying Holofernes

Set 5

Cueva de las Manos (Cave of Hands) vs Cave of El Castillo

Chauvet Cave Bear vs Uffington White Horse

Laocoön and His Sons vs Winged Victory of Samothrace

Crouching Aphrodite vs Statue of Taweret

Guardian Figure vs Kūya-Shonin (Saint Kuya)

Ancient Greek doll vs Arena #7 (Bears)

Enbu (炎舞) (Dancing in the Flames) vs Yearning Shadows

Belfast to Byzantium vs Freedom

Set 6

The Kama Sutra of Vatsyayan vs Portraits

The Blood Mirror vs Nighthawks

Electric Fan (Feel it Motherfuckers): Only Unclaimed Item from the Stephen Earabino Estate vs "Untitled" (Portrait of Ross in L.A.)

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw vs Forgotten Dreams

Saint Bride vs Pixeles (a group of 9 works)

War Pieta vs The Sunset

The Handmaidens of Sivawara Preparing the Sacred Bull at Tanjore for a Festival vs Ajax and Cassandra

Nāve (Death) vs Abstraction

Set 7

Yes vs Meeting on the Turret Stair

Hacked to Death II vs Stańczyk

Closeness Lines Over Time vs Voice of Fire

The Maple Trees at Mama, the Tekona Shrine and Tsugihashi Bridge vs Portrait of Sir Thomas More

Survival Series: In a Dream You Saw a Way vs Takiyasha the Witch and the Skeleton Spectre

Death blowing bubbles vs The Kitchen Table Series

Painting 1946 vs In the Grip of Winter

Untitled (Black and Gray) vs NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt

Set 8

Blue Plate Special vs Red Cedar

Palace of Fine Arts vs Mosque–Cathedral of Córdoba

Le Château des Pyrénées (The Castle of the Pyrenees) vs Susanna and the Elders, Restored - X-Ray

Moby Dick vs Viva la Vida, Watermelons

Venus Envy Chapter One (Of the First Holy Communion Moments Before the End) vs how to look at art

St. Sebastian vs Untitled #12

Carroña vs The invincible one

Untitled (Two Dogs) vs The Dog

SECOND HALF

Set 9

David (Donatello) vs David (Michelangelo)

The Other Side vs The Temptation of St. Jerome

Seated Woman with Bent Knees vs Starry Night

Headdress - Shadae vs Untitled for the Image Flow's Queer Conscience exhibit

Woman with Dead Child (Frau mit totem Kind) vs Les Amants (The Lovers)

Siroče na majčinom grobu (Orphan on Mother's Grave) vs You Make My World a Better Place to Find

Fighting Against SARS Memorial Architectural Scene (弘揚抗疫精神建築景觀) vs Fallingwater

Resting vs The Hull

Set 10

Olive Trees vs Worship

Glow vs Wheatfield with Crows

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of Pope Innocent X vs Untitled (He Plays Very Badly)

D.I.Y. by John Wiswell vs The Tragedy

Judith and the Head of Holofernes vs Beethovenfries (Beethoven Frieze)

The Memory of Me (How Could I Forget) vs oh god i had a really big epiphany about love and personhood but i’m too drunk for words

I am happy because everyone loves me vs 瀕危形態 (Endangered Forms)

Three Scaffolders vs Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan

Set 11

San Giorgio Maggiore at Dusk vs Water-Lilies, Reflection of a Weeping Willow

The Grief of the Pasha vs Monolith in Vigeland Sculpture Park

Passion vs Space Diner

Hamlet and Ophelia vs Two Earthlings

Ellen Terry as Lady Macbeth vs Seer Bonnets

Photograph from "SNAP OSAKA" Collection vs Clytemnestra after the Murder

“Untitled” (Perfect Lovers) vs The Lovers (TIE)

Kedai Ubat Jenun vs Orange Store Front

Set 12

The Apotheosis of War vs Portrait of the Dancer Aleksandr Sakharov

Julie Manet vs Mouth

The Icebergs vs Kaleidoscope Cats III

Maman vs Caza Nocturna (Night Hunt)

The Book of Kells Folio 188r: Luke carpet page vs Ardagh Chalice

Yusuf and Zulaikha vs Dome of the Rock mosaics

Rowan Leaves and Hole vs Untitled (prisonhannibal)

Le Désespéré (The Desperate Man) vs The Dedication

Set 13

Deimos vs Dog and Bridge

The Mocking of Christ vs Prudence

The Broken Column vs Siberian Ice Maiden shoulder tattoo

Transi de René de Chalon (Cadaver Tomb of René of Chalon) vs Head of Christ

The Day vs Spirit of Haida Gwaii

Eleanor Boathouse at Park 571 vs Jatiya Sangsad Bhaban জাতীয় সংসদ ভবন (National Parliament House)

Juventud de Baco (Bacchus Youth) vs Barges on the Seine

Oath of the Horattii closeup vs Visit hos Excentrisk Dam (Visit to an eccentric lady)

Set 14

Christ Crucified (With Donor) vs St. Francis

Thunder Raining Poison vs Piazza d'Italia

The Grove vs Among the Waves

Pintura Mural de Alarcón vs Sagrada Família stained-glass windows

Noonday Heat vs La Dame à la licorne (The Lady and The Unicorn)

Matroser i Gröna Lund (Sailors in Gröna Lund) vs Gielda Plakatu

Reply of the Zaporozhian Cossacks vs The Garden of Earthly Delights

Kuoleman puutarha (The Garden of Death) vs Haavoittunut enkeli (The Wounded Angel)

Set 15

i've wasted a lifetime pretending to be me vs da oracle

minus #37 vs Panel from Fun Home

Excerpt from illustrated edition of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs La Mort de Marat (The Death of Marat)

The Veil vs Düsseldorf 4 (Museum Kunst Palast)

Capriccio vs Zodiac calendar for La Plume

The official imperial portrait of empress dowager Cixi vs José y Maria

Blooming Lilacs vs Lágrimas De Sangre (Tears of Blood)

An Interlude vs Boy Staring at an Apparition

Set 16

Mermer Waiskeder: Stories of the Moving Tide vs The Gran Hotel Ciudad de México Art Nouveau interior

Unfinished Painting vs To Arms!

Memorial to a Marriage vs The Island

Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn vs A Few Small Nips

Saturn Devouring His Son vs Guernica

Fairy Princesses vs Lamentation over the Dead Christ

Mummy with An Inserted Panel Portrait of a Youth vs Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party

Agnus vs The Cup Of His Murders Is Flowing Over And In His Coat Shall Be Many Curses

#art that fucks you up tournament #announcement #links are in the read more!

244 notes · View notes

zannolin · 5 months

Text

something about lucy joan carlyle. something about joan of arc and hearing voices. something about Listening and ghosts and such. you feel me.

#lockwood & co

107 notes · View notes

hauntedbythenarrative · 2 years

Text

Diana, Huntress by Jules Joseph Lefebvre (1879)// ‘sappho’ - charles auguste mengin (1877)// Circe offering the cup to ulysses (1891)// Eugène Romain Thirion (French, 1839–1910)// Joan of Arc listening to the voices, 1876Ophelia, Arantza Sestayo (2017)

#no thoughts just them #women #art #paintings #artemis #diana #sappho #ophelia #circe #joan of arc #jeanne d'arc #whatever this is i aspire to be like this #ethereal #🌿#🐚#fav #greek mythology

960 notes · View notes

stanford-photography · 7 months

Text

Joan of Arc Listens to Voices By Jeff Stanford, 2023

Buy prints at: https://jeff-stanford.pixels.com/

#© Jeff Stanford #midjourney #midjourneyart #ai #discord #digitalart #aiart #Artists on tumblr #Joan #Joan Of Arc #portrait #saint #martyr #archangel #Michael #voices

73 notes · View notes

holymovies · 25 days

Text

Ingrid Bergman - Joan of Arc (1948)

Her life had a tragic and soon end. In her last battle she was captured and sold by the Duke of Burgundy to the English army with the intention of putting her on trial.

The ecclesiastical court accused her of witchcraft and of listening to voices that referred to the devil. She died at the age of 19, on May 30, 1431, burned at the stake accused of heresy by the Inquisition of Rouen (France).

#ingrid bergman

19 notes · View notes

thegreatsylvando · 2 months

Text

WHAT DO YOU SEE? YOU PEOPLE GAZING AT ME?

John Ciardi • A Star is Born (1976) • Tom Wright - You Can't Get Help Like That Anymore • (unknown) • Derek Walcott • Frankenstein (1818) • The Hunchback of Notre Dame • William Blake - The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun • Eugène Romain Thirion - Joan of Arc Listening to the Voices • Jeanette Winterson • Les Miserables (1983) —gifs by @goodsirs

#fargo fx #dot lyon #ole munch

23 notes · View notes

mysterious-secret-garden · 11 months

Text

Eugène Carrière - Joan of Arc listening to the voices, also known as Woman in the Half-Length, Eyes Closed)

#Eugène Carrière #Joan of Arc listening to the voices #joan of ark #vision #apparition #angels

1 note · View note

transjudas · 1 year

Photo

Gerard Way + Joan of Arc paintings *Pedro Américo’s “Joan of Arc listening for the first time to the voices that predict her prominent fate” *Albert Lynch’s “Jeanne d'Arc” *Eugène Lenepveu’s “Joan of Arc. But when they burned her at the stake”

#mcredit #mcr #gerardway #gerardwayedit #my chemical romance #joan of arc #art #flashing cw #userkam #jeanne d'arc

306 notes · View notes

celestiall0tus · 7 days

Text

Tales of Bloody Bug and Chat Noir - Chapter 30 - Gigantitan

Beginning || Previous || Next

Alix looked out at the Louvre from her bedroom window. A large portion of it was closed off by the request of Gabriel Agreste for a photo shoot for a new, upcoming line. She watched as a few people went in and out until Adrien arrived with Kagami beside him. She waited until there was a knock at her door. She turned as Alim stepped inside.

“You’re all set. I’ve had the section Tikki showed me sectioned off separate from where the photoshoot is happening.”

Alix smiled and hugged Alim. “Thanks, Dad. Did you let people know too?”

“Yup. You won’t have to worry about anyone bothering you.”

Alix grinned, threw on her hoodie, and ran out to the Louvre. She ran through the museum to the statue of Joan of Arc Listening to Her Voices. She inspected the base of the statue when she found an odd symbol. She pressed her kwatagama against it. The room darkened and she was surrounded by red portraits of past ladybug holders. She marveled at all of them until she saw one that was distorted with no clear display.

“That one,” Tikki said, pointing to the distorted portrait.

Alix reached out and touched the anomaly. The other portraits vanished as a red silhouette of an adult woman materialized. She watched in awe as the light faded to reveal an older version of her suited up in a ladybug-themed roller derby outfit. The older Alix’s eyes fluttered open and she smiled.

“Hello, Mini Me.”

“No way. You… you’re… you’re me!”

“Almost. I’m from a timeline that no longer exists.”

“What? How is that possible?”

The older Alix let out a breath and took a seat. “It’s quite a tale. Come, sit, and I’ll share the events that brought you here.”

“What do you mean?”

“See, this timeline, you as the ladybug holder, it’s because of me.”

“How?”

“Come and I’ll tell you everything.”

Adrien took a seat as a breather. He looked around at the empty corridors with each end guarded by Kagami and Gorilla. He sighed and took a breath. A creeping sensation crawled up him the entire time he had been out. He had tried to shake it, but it never let up.

“Adrien, why don’t you take ten and stretch your legs while we set up?” Vincent offered.

Adrien nodded and waved down Kagami. “Let’s go on a walk.”

Kagami nodded and accompanied Adrien as they walked around the desolate museum. They encountered a few others in other areas. Adrien hoped that would help his unease, but it grew as they walked around.

“Adrien, are you ok? You seem unwell.”

“It’s… well, it’s something. I just feel… uneasy. Like something is coming.”

“Noted. And, in the future, you’ll do well to let me know these things sooner.”

Adrien nodded. They continued their walk around when a chill came over him. He turned and Kagami was gone. His eyes widened as he turned around in search of her when Marinette appeared beside him. Panic shocked him as he jumped back.

“Marinette. You scared me.”

“S-sorry. I… I hope you don’t mind, but I was hoping we could… you know… talk?”

“I… I don’t know. I really should be getting back to the photoshoot. Besides, I should find Kagami and-.”

Marinette paled as she took a step closer to Adrien. “Please, Adrien, give me a chance. I…!”

“Get away from him!” Kagami roared.

Adrien turned as Kagami charged in, tossing Alya into a wall. He moved closer to Kagami when Alya jumped up and tackled Kagami.

“No! You stay away from him! You’re ruining this for Marinette!” Alya howled.

“She has no right to be near him. Not when he belongs to me!” Kagami yelled.

“What?” Adrien gasped.

“You’re wrong! He belongs to Marinette!” Alya countered.

Adrien’s jaw dropped as he stepped back.

“Wait, Adrien! I promise it’s not what it sounds like!” Marinette pleaded.

Adrien shook his head and ran. Plagg poked out from his jacket.

“Plagg, I don’t know what to do. I can’t-!”

“Do you know where the statue of Joan of Arc Listening to Her Voices is?” Plagg asked.

“What? I mean, yes.”

“Go there. Now.”

Adrien nodded and headed for the statue.

Alix let out a breath as she took in the story the older Alix told her. “That’s… I’m sorry that happened. But, with this wish, you made this timeline?”

“Something like that. I wanted whatever led to the events of Chat Blanc to never occur. I thought so long as I was one of the holders, I could stop it. And here you are, as the ladybug. Though I do worry with my timeline being remembered if something will happen.”

“Tikki said something would. That a condition would be unmet that would need to be fulfilled later. That it was worth the risk because she trusts me, and she wanted me to find a new guiding light in… you.”

“Did she? She’s a sweetheart, isn’t she?”

“And a bit of a nag. Almost like… like a mother.”

The older Alix smiled. “It almost sounds like you need not look far for your guiding light.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, what’s the fun if I tell you? Besides, I don’t think I can be much. We don’t seem too different. You and I. Us.”

“Maybe not, but we’re also different. You survived an apocalypse while I’m bitching and moaning about my dying mother leaving me. Seems incredibly different circumstances, no?”

The older Alix chuckled. “Alright, I’ll give you that. Maybe I can help then, though I’m not sure how.”

“Well, how did you do it? How did you survive for so long given everything? You could have given up at any point, but you didn’t. How?”

“Hope.”

“Hope?”

“Yes. You’re right in a lot of things. I had no reason to keep going. I lost everything. My home, my friends, my family, and my future. I lived just to survive, nothing more. By that reasoning, I should have given up, but I couldn’t. Not so long as there was hope. Hope and a single fool fighting for the impossible. After all, no cause is lost so long as there is still one fool willing to fight for it.”

“What if all hope is gone? What then?”

The older Alix chuckled. “Hope is never gone. You simply need to remind yourself what’s worth living for, but also what’s worth dying for.”

“What about with me? I… I had hoped to see my mother again in death that I nearly left my friends and family. I… I also can’t deny a part of me still wants to find her, but… you know.”

“And is our mom your only reason for living?”

“No! I have my friends, family, and myself.”

“Then why do you want to give up just to see one person when you have so many more worth living for?”

“Because… because I miss her. I feel like she left me too soon. When I needed her most. I know people come in and out of our lives, that death is a natural thing, but it doesn’t ease the pain. I don’t even understand how you managed seeing Dad and Jalil’s deaths, including your own.”

“Because I redirected that grief to help me drive forward. I could have laid down and died like you, but I couldn’t. I knew I could set everything right, but not just for the living, but the dead too. I carried their burdens with me, using them to remind myself what I could save. In your case, I would use it to remind myself why I still live. You say you feel like Mom abandoned you, yes?”

“I do.”

“Then redirect it. Use that feeling to push you forward to be there for those in your life. Your friends and family. Always be there for them when they need you, just as Mom was once in life. Let your strength come from your defiance, just as I did. Accept the outcome but defy fate the outcome it desires. Create the outcome you want through your defiance.”

Alix knotted her brows in thought when she saw Adrien stumble into the room. He took several deep breaths when he spotted her. He broke down in tears as he tackled her.

“Alix! Oh, thank goodness you’re here! I need your help. Please!”

Alix furrowed her brows and opened her mouth when Marinette, Alya, and Kagami ran into the room after Adrien.

“Great, you’re here,” Alya hissed.

“What the hell is going on?” Alix demanded.

“Nothing. Stand aside,” Kagami ordered.

Alix sneered. She pushed past Adrien and stood against Kagami. “Never. You have no power over me, bitch.”

The older Alix whooped and hollered. “Ata girl! You got it! Show them they can’t oppose such defiance. Protect the one you care about!”

Alix’s eyes widened slightly before she smirked. “I would sooner like to know what the hell happened that Adrien is running from you.”

“I was doing my job of protecting him. Nothing more,” Kagami reflected.

“I don’t believe you. Adrien wouldn’t have ran unless something happened. So, I’ll ask again. What did you do?”

“Yeah, cunt ass bitch! What the fuck did you do?” the older Alix yelled.

Alix grimaced, aware that none of them could see the older her besides her and Tikki. Though she did admire her older self’s energy.

“Fine. If you must know, I told them to stay away from Adrien because he is mine. Our parents have arranged our betrothals,” Kagami admitted.

“What?” Adrien, Marinette, and Alya yelled.

“Oh, that’s fucked. You aren’t going to let this stand, are you?” the older Alix asked.

Alix shook her head. “No, I’m not. Neither of your parents have any right to arrange such things without your consent. And I know damn well Adrien had no idea.”

“That doesn’t matter. We owe-.”

“You owe nothing! Who fucking cares what your parents want or what they did. This is your life, not your parent’s. You should live it as you want, not how they dictate.”

“My mother gave up everything to raise me. The least I can do is this,” Kagami countered.

“I’m sorry, but how the fuck is your mother being the leader of cutting-edge technology and CEO of her own fucking company her giving up everything to raise you. Seems very far from giving up everything to me.”

Kagami snarled. “I don’t expect from French, wanna-be punk girl to understand how things are with my family. I am from a family of samurai women. We follow orders because we choose to. And I’m choosing to bring face to my family by following my mother’s orders. What are you doing that remotely brings face to your muddled, watered down bloodline of a family?”

Alix considered as she glanced back at Adrien and her older self. She felt doubt cross her, but it faded when she saw them. Adrien, who counted on her, and her older self, who was the embodiment of defiant will, but also her mother. Without even remembering their mother, they were so much alike. A pang of guilt and regret hit her heart, before a fire was lit.

Alix turned and decked Kagami in the jaw. “That. That is what I’m doing to bring ‘face’ to my family. We don’t bow to fucking overlords who think they rule the world. We don’t bend our knees to corrupt shitheads that think they know better. We rise and fight against assholes like you. My mother used to when she was alive, and I will always do it. For her, for those I love, and myself!”

Kagami glared daggers at Alix. “You’re going to regret this, crossing paths with me. All your talk of chaos and purposeless fighting with be for nothing. You will bow to my will, and that of my mother’s. Just you wait and see.”

“You’re wrong. I know what I fight for… and what’s dying for. Do you?”

Kagami opened her mouth, then shut it before she stormed off.

Alix snorted and turned to Alya and Marinette. “As for you two, stay away from Adrien. Marinette, he’s already told you he’s not interested.”

“No, he didn’t. He-!” Alya started.

“No, I did. I very much told her and Lila that I’m not interested,” Adrien butted in.

Alya furrowed her brows and turned to Marinette. “He did? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Uh. Well, because… because it wasn’t, uh, important?” Marinette attempted.

Alya shook her head and grabbed Marinette’s wrist. “That’s it. We’re leaving.”

“But-!”

Alya dragged Marinette away before she could get another word out. Alix sighed and turned back to Adrien and her older self. Adrien approached her and sang his praises, but her focus was on her older self.

“You did good. I’m proud of us, you, me? Ah, forget it. I’m proud.”

Alix smiled. “Thank you.”

“Uh, for what?” Adrien asked.

“Not you. The other me.”

“Other you?”

“Yeah. You can’t see her. Only I can. Tikki brought her back so we could meet, and I couldn’t be happier.”

“Oh? What’s she doing?”

“She’s showing me how to be the best version of myself.”

“Nah. I’m showing you the person you always have been. You said it all yourself. Now let’s see you practice what you preach, bitch. Once you do, you’ll be where you need to be. After that little display, I can say you’re well on your way,” the older Alix reassured.

Alix smiled, but it faded when screams tore through the air. She hid in the corner and transformed before she headed out to the source. She stopped dead when she saw a giant baby in a neon onesie.

“What the hell is that?” Bloody Bug asked.

“Seriously? Hawkmoth brought this back?” the older Alix asked.

“He used this before?”

“Yeah. I remember the thing just wanted a damn lollipop, and that my Ladybug-,” the older Alix started.

Bloody Bug’s eyes widened as she used her Lucky Charm to create a massive lollipop. She held it up and gave it to the baby. It gleefully took it while she looked it over for the Akuma. She eyed the bracelet, broke it, and released the Akuma. She caught it, purified it, and let it go. The giant baby reverted to a normal sized one as she grabbed the lollipop. She threw it up and used her Miraculous power.

“That was so much simpler than what my Ladybug did. Fuck this! How the hell was Marinette more worthy than us?” the older Alix complained.

“Wait, what?”

The older Alix opened her mouth as light particles flew up from her body. “I’m sorry. Time’s up. For now, I hope.”

Bloody Bug nodded. “See you soon.”

The older Alix bowed her head as she vanished.

Bloody Bug sighed. She turned to the baby as its mother came back for it. She headed back to the room with the statue and de-transformed. She didn’t see Adrien, though she assumed he returned to his photoshoot.

“So, what did you think?” Tikki asked.

“That was… amazing. Did you see how cool she was? Or, well, me? And the fact that she went through all that and never gave up. Not like I did. But I’ll be better now. That I can promise.”

“I’m glad she was able to help you. But now that you have, be prepared for the worst to come.”

“I’m ready. I know what I must be, though it won’t be easy, but I’m not alone. Right?”

Tikki giggled and nuzzled Alix. “We’ll be here at your side. Always.”

Alix smiled and cradled Tikki. “Then let’s face the future together, always. Now, let’s go check on Adrien, and piss off that bitch ass puppet.”

“I don’t know, Alix. Do you really want to make her angrier than she already is?”

“I will, for Adrien because he’s worth fighting for to see him happy.”

Tikki smiled. “Then let’s go.”

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #miraculous au #au #alternate universe #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #bloody bug au #bloody bug #alix kubdel #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #kagami tsurugi #alya cesaire #tikki #reunion #gigantitan

13 notes · View notes