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shark vs the universe
Sade Olutola

Love Begins
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

Andulka
ojovivo
No title available

#extradirty

oozey mess
dirt enthusiast
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
i don't do bad sauce passes

JBB: An Artblog!
Claire Keane
Game of Thrones Daily
styofa doing anything

No title available
$LAYYYTER

★

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from United States
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seen from India
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seen from Indonesia
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“In Russian, Baba Yaga’s name is not capitalized. Indeed, it is not a name at all, but a description—“old lady yaga” or perhaps “scary old woman.” There is often more than one Baba Yaga in a story, and thus we should really say “a Baba Yaga,” “the Baba Yaga.” We do so in these tales when a story would otherwise be confusing. We have continued the western tradition of capitalizing Baba Yaga, since the words cannot be translated and have no other meaning in English (aside perhaps from the pleasant associations of a rum baba). There is no graceful way to put the name in the plural in English, and in Russian tales multiple iterations of Baba Yaga never appear at the same time, only in sequence: Baba Yaga sisters or cousins talk about one another, or send travelers along to one another, but they do not live together. The first-person pronoun “I” in Russian, ‘ia,’ is also uncapitalized. In some tales our witch is called only “Yaga.” A few tales refer to her as “Yagishna,” a patronymic form suggesting that she is Yaga’s daughter rather than Yaga herself. (That in turn suggests that Baba Yaga reproduces parthenogenetically, and some scholars agree that she does.) The lack of capitalization in every published Russian folktale also hints at Baba Yaga’s status as a type rather than an individual, a paradigmatic mean or frightening old woman. This description in place of a name, too, could suggest that it was once a euphemism for another name or term, too holy or frightening to be spoken, and therefore now long forgotten.”
— Sibelan Forrester, from her introduction to Baba Yaga: The Wild Witch of the East in Russian Fairy Tales
I feel like this suggests that - with much dedication and study - you, too, could go out into the woods and be a baba yaga.
The question then becomes whether the chicken house just manifests when you achieve Baba Yaga-hood, or whether you have to find or construct one. …Definitely not asking out of any desire to own a house on chicken legs. Of course not.
Well now I want to know, too
Who says it has to be one way or the other? If you are baba yaga enough, the house will come to you; if you build the house, being baba yaga will come to you.
What worries me about the baba yaga’s house arriving when she has reached baba yagadom is that it means the houses are out there somewhere…feral…breeding….
This further suggests variety in both the architecture and galliformes of the chicken-houses, from bumbling top-heavy mcmansions on Butterball turkey legs to flighty studio apartment bantams.
Spider-Man: “Anyone can wear the mask.”
Doctor Who: “You don’t have to be real to be the Doctor, as long as you never give up.”
Baba Yaga: “Get off my lawn or my house will step on you.”
@iwilltrytobereasonable seems relevant to your interests
@mademoisellesarcasme
I suppose this means that the folkloric Jack is the opposite of the Babas Yaga.
@thedocumentco
The Second Shift
Summary: Adrien Agreste is a d-egg-beat dad and Marinette is having none of it.
A ko-fi commission for @jarl-deathwolf who requested adrinette co-parenting for a class assignment.
AO3
In all her dizziest daydreams, wildest whimsies, and fantastic fantasies, Marinette never pictured it going like this.
The this and it and going being a single working mother to a baby girl with an absentee, philandering flake of a father.
Father being a generous term for what her so-called partner was doing.
Marinette scowled, (gently) tossing her backpack onto the lunchroom table.
“I’m gonna have to rethink Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”
Alya grimaced. “Agreste bail on you again?”
“I get it. Really, I do,” She said, not getting it at all. “But if it’s not photoshoots or fencing practice or movie rehearsals –”
Here, she rolled her eyes.
“– Then it’s meeting with the Tsurugis or disappearing to take a shower whatever that means.”
“I’m sorry, girl.“
Marinette sighed. “We were supposed to be partners on this Al and I’m doing all the work.”
She opened her bag and pulled out a makeshift basket with a single egg cushioned inside. Adrien, the absolute dork, had drawn a little sleeping face on the damned thing, complete with a tiny green bow drawn on the top of its head.
“Only the best for baby Eggma,” He’d said, grinning in a way that made her heart flip. In a way that did not indicate a future of egregious absence from their child’s care.
“Maybe you should talk to Ms. Bustier,” Alya said, pulling out her own egg. An egg Rose dyed pink for the endeavor. An egg Rose stuck around for. “It’s not fair he keeps bailing on you at the last minute.”
At the worst minute, more like.
Because, as disappointing as it would have been, Marinette could forgive Adrien a lot of things. Doing the heavy lifting on a group project was just a drop in the bucket.
But he kept foisting Eggma on her during akuma attacks.
And secret identities be damned, she could not keep stashing Eggma around the city. Air conditioning units, secluded chimneys, and even the damn beehives on the top of Notre Dame – Ladybug was running out of hiding places.
Or rather, she was running out of safe hiding places.
Memories of the latest attack where Chat cataclysmed the goddamn building she’d stashed her make-shift daughter haunted her every waking moment. Sentimentality aside, Marinette could not afford to fail this project.
Thank kwami for Tikki and Miraculous Ladybug.
She’d nearly scalped Chat for that mistake, not that she could really explain her fury to her partner. Ridiculous school projects aside the last thing she needed was that cat offering to fill Adrien’s shoes. Not when she knew how deep that feeling truly ran.
Ugh.
“Do you think it’s, like, a family thing?” Alya asked, ripping into her sandwich. “Agreste Sr. isn’t the best role model if you know what I mean.”
“No. I think it’s an Adrien thing.”
Marinette was grateful when her friend nodded, no explanation needed. For all of his great qualities, Adrien was almost painfully oblivious to the undercurrents around him.
And, to his credit, he started off great. Damn near giddy at the prospect of a family, any family, even the fake kind. He’d taken to the project with an earnestness that was almost painful.
“This is Eggma Eggreste,” He’d said, proudly, looping his arm around her waist and presenting their egg to the rest of the class. They were so young then, naive in their optimism.
Marinette knew better now.
The Eggreste family portrait used to make her giggle every time she saw it. Now she wasn’t sure she wanted to give him the silly drawing at all.
“You should probably talk to him,” Alya said, unreasonably. Like Marinette wasn’t a walking keyboard smash every time the boy so much as looked in her direction.
Still, she owed him an explanation if she was planning on breaking Eggma over his head after this whole project was through.
Their timing, as always, was horrible.
She met him on the school’s front steps, Eggma in hand and we need to talk on her lips, when the akuma attacked.
It was almost comical, really, how she knew exactly what Adrien was going to say.
“Ah,” He said, wincing as another explosion went off in the distance. His hand, which had been reaching to take the carton, retracted. “I’m so sorry Marinette. But there’s something I have to–”
“No.”
He blinked, confused. “I’m sorry?”
Marinette shoved Eggma into his chest, scowling. “I said no. You’re not the only one with responsibilities, Agreste. It’s time you start taking care of this one.”
She stomped away, searching for a place to transform. Adrien scrambled after her.
“Marinette, wait!” He said, keeping stride. “I know I’ve been the worst partner lately, but I really need to go and I can’t bring Eggma with–”
“Pull your damn weight,” She snapped, whirling around to poke his chest. His eyes were wide, panicked, and a little exasperated.
Well.
“I’m sick of the disappearing act, Adrien.” She said. “It’s your turn. And so help me if the next words out of your mouth are I have something to do I will scream. Because believe it or not I have something I need to do. So take your daughter and figure it out.”
Marinette didn’t give him a chance to argue any further and took off running.
Today, at least, she was getting her break.
Sure, It was to fight a super villain, but who said parenting was easy?
Ladybug took to the rooftops, following the wreckage left in the akuma’s wake. She tried not to look too carefully at the crumbled buildings or what might lay inside. The best thing she could do for Paris was to catch Hawkmoth’s latest victim and purify them as quickly as possible.
Miraculous Ladybug would take care of the rest.
Still, she winced as another explosion sounded off, closer this time. She hated the destructive ones.
It was a good thing she managed to pass off Eggma to Adrien. He would be sensible and stay out of harm’s way. Two less people to worry about.
“Sorry I’m late my lady!”
Her partner landed beside her, annoyed and without his usual theatrics. “I couldn’t get away.”
“No worries, minou.” She said, scanning the horizon for their target. “I only just got here.”
“Let’s hope this one goes down easy,” Chat said, grimacing. “I’ve got a lot riding on not becoming fire fodder today.”
Ladybug smirked, just today? on the tip of her tongue when her eyes caught on Chat’s newest costume addition.
“What is that?”
Chat patted at the small, white, shape peeking out of his new, leather satchel. She felt the ridiculous urge to slap his claws away from the delicate shell.
“School project.” He said, irritated, irritating her. “My partner wouldn’t take her this time.”
“Her?” Ladybug said, voice sounding distant to her own ears.
She could see two little green arrows pointing towards each other on the crest of the shape, a clumsy, familiar approximation of a bow.
No.
Nope.
Absolutely not.
Ladybug felt like she was floating. A sense of dread and anticipation and knowing hovering just beyond her body. A place where 2 + 2 = 5 and the next words out of her partner’s mouth were –
“Eggma,” He said, sounding almost too pleased with himself. “Her name is Eggma.”
Of course it was.
She could have screamed.
Really, she should have.
But all Ladybug felt was relief. Relief and irritation and the sensation of the universe tumbling itself upside down until it was right side up again.
The sky was blue. Her suit was red.
And Adrien Agreste wasn’t a terrible father.
“This… this explains a lot.” She said, reaching forward to take the satchel from his side.
Chat blinked at her, confused and only a little hesitant.
“My lady?”
“Eggma Eggreste,” She laughed, slightly hysterical. “What a problem child you’ve been.”
“How did you…” He stopped, eyes narrowing. She waited for it to click.
It didn’t take long.
“… Marinette?” Chat said, voice cracking.
“I guess that’s why you’ve been so flaky.”
“Oh my god.”
“We’ll need to work on that for the future,” She said, absently, searching the roof for a place to hide Eggma.
“Oh my god. ”
She found a small opening near an air vent, a place as good as any at this point, and tucked her in. A temporary solution at best.
“Oh my god! ”
“Adrien,” Ladybug snapped, nerves frayed. Chat squeaked, shutting up. “Can you pull it together for the next hour?”
“Mhmm.”
“Good.” She said, running a shaky hand through her hair. Now was not the time for freaking out. Now was the time for superheroing, rescuing, and parenting. Partnering.
Was there even a difference at this point?
“I’m done carrying double duty. We can scream about this when we’ve purified the akuma.”
“Mhmm.”
Chat’s eyes were wide and a little glassy.
Ladybug bit her lip… and broke. “Please, please say anything else.”
I can’t do this without you.
He heard her.
Clenching and unclenching his hands like he was working off an electric shock, Chat took a shuddering breath and reached out his fist.
“Okay, LB?”
She laughed, teary, and bumped it with her own. “Okay. But Chat?”
His smile was shaky at best. “Yeah?”
“We’re gonna need a hell of a babysitter.”
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