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chronicallylatetotheparty · 5 years

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After the Fall Ch. 1 Gravity

AO3

Chat Noir lost, Papillon hesitated, and Marinette was a minute too slow. A minute is all it takes.

What do you do after you fall?

You get back up.

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Exhaustion flooded Adrien's body as Weredad removed his Miraculous. The forceful de-transformation sapped his remaining strength.

"You!" Weredad's grip tightened causing Adrien to cry out in pain. "So my daughter wasn't rejected by one of her loves but both of them!"

Papillon's mark appeared around the villain's face, "Weredad! Use the Agreste boy as bait! Ladybug is sure to come looking for her partner!"

Werdad growled in rage, "I don't think so! Marinette will never know who you were! You won't break my daughter's heart a second time!" He pulled back his arm, Adrien's feeble struggles ineffective. "In fact, you'll never break another heart again! "

"NO!"

Papillon sent pain racing through Weredad's body interrupting the villain's throw, but it was too late.

Adrien fell. Too exhausted to scream even as his heart hammered painfully in his chest. The wind howling accusations at him.

I failed.

He had given it his all. His strength, his speed, his experience. Everything. But it hadn't been enough. He couldn't save one person. His friend. Marinette. He hadn't even been able to save himself.

I'm sorry, My Lady.

The weight of his failure, of his imminent death, finally took what little breath he had left. He was lost amid the rose prison's falling vines. Adrien felt nothing when his body hit the pavement.

Being brought back to life was very similar to being freed from mind control . . . or petrification.

My other failures.

Disorientation and confusion followed by understanding. The ladybugs left him lying in the street where he looked up at the sky without really seeing anything.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Strangers gathered around him. When he didn't respond their voices became more frantic. Two people helped him to his feet and half dragged him onto the sidewalk. Down the street was the Dupain-Cheng bakery. Adrien's vision blurred. Someone next to him was calling emergency services while others asked him his name.

A car pulled up to them and two figures rushed out. Nathalie and his bodyguard. He recognized them even through the tears.

"Adrien, your father is very worried about you," Nathalie's voice didn't quite manage her usual monotone.

While she convinced the people gathered that, yes they do work for his father, the Gorilla carried him to the car.

Adrien didn't reply to any of Nathalie's questions on the short drive back, barely hearing her. Instead he looked out the window and imagined Ladybug swinging across the rooftops after saving the Dupain-Chengs.

Good job, My Lady.

His left hand moved up to trace the pale skin where his Miraculous used to be.

"Adrien!" Gabriel rushed forward and embraced him. He didn't return the hug. A small part of him was surprised his father showed up in person and didn't comment on his unseemly tear stains or public displays of emotion. He felt heat creep back into his chest.

" . . . Where is your ring, son?"

Adrien laughed at the nonsensical question. The sound was hysterical and jarring. He saw it on their faces as Gabriel backed away, before the tears started up again. "It's gone! It's all gone!"

Plagg's gone.

His laughter morphed into a piercing wail as his legs gave out. Papillon took him. His friend. Even if Ladybug got the ring back Chat Noir was compromised. Adrien's desperate sobs echoed through the hollow manor.

It was all gone.

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It was barely a week before Gabriel insisted he got back to a 'normal schedule' as soon as possible. As far as Adrien knew his father was unaware of his . . . death experience. Nathalie suggested he speak to someone, whether or not that would be allowed was unclear. Adrien had turned his phone off; not wanting to see the texts from Chloe and Nino asking questions he didn't know how to respond.

He'd insisted on Chinese for that day, when the issue of his lessons was brought up. Adrien's momentary clarity had been all Gabriel needed to excuse himself, stating that he had neglected his duties too long. As though his son's breakdown was nothing more than a momentary lapse. A minor inconvenience. A distraction.

There was a knock on his door, he'd been expecting it all morning. Standing up from the couch Adrien turned to find Master Fu standing in the entryway, expression serious.

Falling into routine he greeted the Great Guardian in Mandarin, "Morning, Master Fu." He bowed, mostly to avoid looking the elder in the eye.

"Adrien, Plagg informed me of what happened on the tower." Master Fu walked forward, his tone gentle but somber.

Adrien's eyes snapped up and widened in surprise and relief, "He's okay? And the ring? What-"

"Ladybug retrieved the Miraculous of the Black Cat and came to me for guidance," he gestured for Adrien to sit and did the same. "This is a most unfortunate development. Papillon now knows your identity and could exploit this knowledge just as he did with Queen Bee."

Adrien felt his chest constrict, his face burned with shame. Master Fu had entrusted him with one of the two most powerful Miraculous in the world and he'd lost it. He knew what was coming next, he could feel it.

Master Fu was looking at him but he didn't meet the Guardian's eye. "Adrien. I have not come to my decision lightly. The Black Cat is needed and . . . the Miraculous is no longer safe in your hands."

Shock and betrayal raced through him even though he'd expected nothing less. He couldn't be given the ring every time there was an akuma. That would leave the villain free to rampage across the city for however long it took Ladybug to find him. Papillon could target his father, his friends. He'd be putting them in danger and for what? So he could play at being a hero?

Master Fu would find a new Chat Noir. Someone better, someone worthy of being called Ladybug's partner.

Someone who wont mess up.

It was the smart thing to do.

"I . . . I understand. D-do what you think is best."

You always do.

"Adrien, you performed your duties admirably. If you ever need anything . . ." Master Fu reached for his shoulder.

He stood up suddenly and moved away from the stranger offering empty words of comfort. "Thank you, for giving me this opportunity, for letting me meet Plagg. Tell him goodbye for me. I'm sorry I didn't live up to the potential you saw in me."

Master Fu moved toward him in shock, "That is not-"

Adrien stepped back, "I hope your new charge is a better student than I was. I . . . I think I'll need a new Mandarin teacher." He bowed again. "Goodbye, Master Fu."

The Guardian stood in silence for a moment before finally returning the bow, "Goodbye, Chat Noir."

Once Fu was gone he allowed the tears to fall as he slid onto the cold floor. The last spark of hope at seeing Plagg or fighting by his Lady's side snuffed out.

Adrien was alone.

Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch.9 Ch. 10 Ch.11 Ch.12 Ch.13 Ch.14 Ch.15 Ch.16 Ch.17 Ch.18 Ch.19 Ch.20 Ch.21 Ch.22

The writers were doing so well until the fight scene too. I just wanted a competent Chat Noir who did well without Ladybug there! But nooooo, instead they have to make me question what he's even doing there if his entire purpose on the team is so superfluous!

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nicthinks-blog · 6 years

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I am a Chinese?

17 Jan 2018 I am Nicole. 22 years of age. I am a Chinese. I am a Chinese. I am a Chinese?

I have never really felt an affiliation to being Chinese. Traditional practices, occasions, Chinese music, Chinese drama, the language - I have always felt like I was an outsider looking in. The interesting thing is that even though I felt like it, I never really thought about it, let alone felt the urge to vocalise it. Today in a classroom packed with students and with a teacher speaking passionately about multiculturalism in Singapore, I began to understand why. But first, let’s start from the beginning.

My childhood? According to a branch of psychology (or sociology - please correct me if I’m wrong, this is the ramblings of a naive student), current behaviours and/or fears might be attributed to happenings in one’s childhood. For example, grappling with all-consuming insecurities in adult romantic relationships could be because your mother and/or father did not love you enough when you were younger (this I inherently disagree because I have had my fair share of insecurities but I would say that my beautiful family showered me with all the love that they could possibly provide).

The most memorable, and first ever memory of an encounter with the Chinese language (Mandarin) was when I was in Primary 1. Imagine this - it was a beautiful first day of school for a little girl with pig tails and a tweety bird bag. As she walked into the compound, she had great expectations, but definitely not of the principal buying a bowl of watermelon for her (that was very sweet, thank you), or of feeling horrible in my first Chinese lesson. My memory fails me slightly now, but I think that either of these things happened then:

1. I walk into Chinese class and sit on the floor with all my classmates. The teacher who has a moustache walks in and asks us for our textbooks, which I have forgotten to bring. The teacher makes me stand up, scolds me, and I feel embarrassed and cry. I also cannot understand what he is saying. My form teacher Mrs Teo then comes to my rescue and whisks me away.

2. I walk into Chinese class and sit on the floor with all my classmates. The teacher who has a moustache walks in and makes us individually read from a passage. When it is my turn, I fail to read it as I don’t know what the words are. I freeze. Awkward silence ensues. The teacher makes me stand up, scolds me, and I feel embarrassed and cry. I also cannot understand what he is saying. My form teacher Mrs Teo then comes to my rescue and whisks me away.

Nevertheless, I developed an (ir?)rational fear for Mandarin. This was coupled with the fact that I grew up in an English speaking household where my Mama and Ah Kong (grandma and grandpa respectively) who took care of me in the day, did not understand a single word of Mandarin. They could speak English and Malay. No tuition teacher could help. I just could not speak or understand Mandarin well and it got worse and worse.

Today, in my “only class of the semester”, my professor mentioned (and critiqued) this when discussing of the CMIO structure that the state adopted for nation-building from 1965:

“If you are a Chinese in Singapore, your Identity Marker is the Chinese Language”.

She then mentioned this particular phrase, one that I am extremely familiar with:

“You are Chinese... but you cannot speak Chinese?”

Perhaps I shouldn’t feel abnegated by society, but when I hear that term, all I hear is shame. Shame on you. Shame for not being able to speak Chinese well. Shame for being a banana. Shame for not being proud of who you are.

Who am I?

What if I am a hybrid? It seems odd to me that a language and skin colour can function as segregators, pushing us to fit into boxes and categories that we ourselves might be alienated by. Indeed, it might have been the prerogative of the state to find the best solution to navigating a world post-independence, and the CMIO structure and ritualistic nation-building was almost sine qua non at that time.

But right now with heated debates on what it means to be human (gender, sexuality, citizenship and rights), should this rather euro-centric and outmoded structure be rethought and reimagined for Singapore in the coming years?

You tell me.

#Identity Crisis #Chinese or not

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