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clarenecessities · 7 years

Text

spooky changelings

Rating: PG 13 Word Count: 1439

Content Warning (spoilers): discussion of child abduction, explosions, not-so-twisty plot twists

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They filed into the classroom in pairs, Alya pulling Marinette along by the elbow and Adrien perched on Nino’s shoulders, turning an unblinking stare on the classroom. A few students had already gathered, though Adrien knew most only by sight and scent, not by name. He recognized Alix by her pink hair, slumped forward and drooling on her desk. He knew Rose, spinning to show off the flare of her dress, but not the ghost that floated beside her with a faint smile.

The ghost looked strange through these eyes—she was somewhat more defined than she had appeared yesterday, but the faded colors that comprised her had dimmed even more than the rest of his palette. She looked almost tangible, but so washed out she was nearly black and white.

“Cat,” came a voice from behind them, and both Nino and Adrien jumped, turning to see the massive boy with flaky, rocklike skin looming over them, looking at Adrien with keen interest.

“Hey Ivan,” said Nino, relaxing.

“Hey,” said Ivan, smiling. Adrien swore he could hear the grating of gravel as the boy moved. “Is that Adrien?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” said Nino, rolling his eyes, “but if you see him use a fork or something, don’t be too surprised.”

“Forks require thumbs,” Adrien muttered.

“Oh my god, a talking cat!” gasped Nino, clapping his hands to his cheeks.

Ivan plucked the hat off of Nino’s head, ruffled his hair, and put the hat on Adrien. “Good morning, you big dorks.”

“Who you callin’ dork, punk?” Nino laughed, shaking a fist at the retreating giant’s back.

“Who you callin’ punk, dork?” tittered Alya from her seat, rolling her eyes at him. “Face facts, Fido. He’s got you figured.”

Nino pouted at her as he pulled the cap mercifully from Adrien’s head and upper torso. “While I admire the alliteration, I object to ‘Fido’. On the basis of it being a very outdated name.”

“Well shit, I don’t have a dog,” grumbled Alya. “What do people call them? Rover? Spot?”

“My friend Bridgette had a dog named Refrigerator,” Adrien supplied unhelpfully.

Alya stared at him.

“I don’t think it was a regular dog name,” he added after a moment.

“I thought we were your only friends,” said Nino, steepling a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Am I even your first BFF? I feel so lied to.”

“This was a long time ago,” said Adrien, laughing. “She was a changeling, but she was only around for a few months or so. It used to be that my neighbors would get changelings every so often—they called it ‘summer camp,’ and arranged all these silly little games for us to play.”

“Wait, like—just straight up kidnapping?” asked Nino, losing his playful stance. “Why?”

“A lot of reasons,” said Adrien, shrugging. He jumped off of Nino’s shoulders onto their desk so he could see his face better. “Usually it was a deal for somebody’s firstborn, but sometimes it was just trespassing.”

“Only a few months, though? I didn’t realize they gave firstborns back,” said Marinette from the stair beside him.

“Well, it depends who took them,” said Adrien. “I think Trixx fully intended to keep Bridgette, but she isn’t really cut out for child-rearing, you know? Which I could have told her from her disastrous attempts at babysitting me, but hey, try telling a fox anything, am I right?” He grinned over his shoulder at Alya, who stuck her tongue out at him.

“Watch it, cat,” she muttered. “I know the sídhe are cheeky, but there’s a limit.”

“A limit to how many painfully obvious truths you can tolerate?” asked Marinette, smiling as she slid onto the bench next to her. “C’mon Alya—you’re stubborn as anything.”

“Not as stubborn as you,” said Alya, bumping her shoulder with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not just anything,” said Marinette, fluffing one of her pigtails ostentatiously.

“Uh, excuse me?” Nino interjected, voice keyed higher with humor, “I’m trying to get some fairy secrets?” He threw himself dramatically onto his side of the bench, throwing the back of his hand against his forehead like a swooning damsel, almost knocking his cap off again in the process. “My heart can’t go on like this, my dudes. I gotta get the scoop.”

“’The scoop,’” Adrien scoffed, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. “I explained the way time works in our realm, didn’t I? How long we have them isn’t necessarily how long they’re gone for. Bridgette was out for seven years.”

“I still don’t get why you’re so sure you aren’t like, a hundred,” said Nino, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on the desk. He propped his face up with an idle fist, twisting to stare at his new friend. “I know you said you were tied to the human realm or whatever, but…”

“I guess it has more to do with being tied to the aos sídhe,” said Adrien. “Like… it knows it’s important to me, and since the realm like, acknowledges me—it tries to help. As a mundane human child, Bridgette didn’t really register, so it was like, why do the extra work? If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Alya put in.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Adrien. “It’s like, uh—blood types. If somebody puts the wrong kind of blood in you, your body’s like ‘uh, what the hell,’ you know? So I can sort of work with the magic of the realm, whereas a human kinda confuses it—or pisses it off, depending what they’re trying to do.”

“So if I were to go to your sídhe and try to cast a spell, I’d get zapped?” asked Marinette, raising an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say zapped,” he hedged, “but yeah, there’d be some sort of consequence. Could be as minor as the spell not going full power, could be a flash flood. It varies. Actually, depending on what the deal is with your ‘things,’ you might have consequences just for being there—”

“Seriously?” she asked sourly, making a face. “No wonder you’d never had a sleepover, if your house is gonna try to kill people.”

“There is one foolproof vaccine,” Adrien purred, seizing his chance. “A contract with one of the aos sídhe, say—a dashing familiar?”

Marinette’s mouth clicked shut, while Nino burst into laughter. Alya had the decency to try and smother her giggling.

“Just, uh—something to think about,” said Adrien, awkwardness overcoming him as he lost his nerve. Marinette ducked her head to retrieve something from her bag, (or to avoid making eye contact with him). “I—I mean, there are lots of benefits—”

THWOOM.

Adrien stiffened at the sudden sound in the courtyard, his fur bristling. Nino and Alya copied his stance, whirling instinctively to face the noise, tense, magic flaring around them so sharply that Adrien could feel it.

The wall to the courtyard buckled inwards, glass showering the classroom as the scream of ripping metal filled the air. Children shouted, some diving for cover, but for most it was too late, and the consequences of the explosion took effect.

Adrien was thrown off of the desk and against the far wall, spine twisting automatically to help him land. He immediately ducked under a chunk of cement, growling wordlessly at his surroundings.

Some of the desks had been toppled, and everything had been pushed against the far wall, including most of the students. The concussive sound and resulting shrapnel seemed to have knocked about half of them unconscious—he and the others with animal instincts had made it out, while Marinette’s fortuitous timing meant she’d dodged the worst of the blast. Maybe it was that luck she’d mentioned.

A lucky duck. Heh.

The ghost was floating anxiously beside a crumpled Rose, while Alix and Ivan were straightening with small groans.

Adrien staggered a few paces out from the pile of debris, to where Marinette was hunkered under her desk, Alya beside her. Nino had been thrown into the aisle, but was similarly scrambling to get to their friends.

“What the hell?” he asked, voice shaking as he pulled Adrien nearer, picking him up so he wouldn’t walk on the glass. “What’s going on?”

“Angry,” Marinette whispered, eyes locked on the hole in the wall that revealed the courtyard. “Cheated, jealous—mostly angry.”

“This was a person?” Alya demanded, her hands fisted into the fabric at Marinette’s shoulders.

“I—I don’t know,” said Marinette. “It’s—”

“I,” announced an unfamiliar voice, echoing through the courtyard and their ruined classroom, high and nasally and unpleasant, “am Stormy Weather.”

#miraculous ladybug #spooky ml au #clare's writing #is this corny?? i think it's corny but it's like midnight and i also don't give a heck

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