BABA JAGA

comicstore clerk dreaming about becoming a comicbook artist @babajaga.art on IG

[my-rose-yard]

Wassup, I’m BabaJaga!

@babajagakiosk is my main blog.

@my-rose-yard is my side-blog for posting fanart/fanfics/headcanons,…

@babajaga.art is my instagram - I’m most active there!

(This is my first time actively using tumblr after almost 10 years of lurking, please be kind to me 😨 !)

xoxo 🍄🍄🍄

[my-rose-yard]

Ya'll don't understand how insanely attracted I am to this drawing. 😭

[dandiacal]

i love when women and or queer people get into male dominated properties which are inherently unserious but rarely treated as such and take tbem just as seriously as they deserve, which is after conducting a deeper analysis of the themes than 99% of comment section guys seem to be doing judging by the uhhh comments, taking them: decidedly unseriously. anyway im reading batman x joker fanfiction and every author uses remarkably similar language to describe jokers pupils dilating inhuman amounts when he's aroused and at this point im concerned its canonical

[wakeywakeyjakey]

getting emotional about old man yaoi batjokes in the club tn because listen... at a certain point love becomes muscle memory. yes joker knows exactly when bruce is going to throw a punch without any indication, and yes bruce knows when joker is going to drop the punchline without any context. but there's something even more ancient to it.

it's the way that "you're the only constant in my life" shifts from being a curse to being a promise. it's the way that the routine (whether it's broken bones and bloody lips or handcuffs and trips to arkham) is so familiar that it becomes the plan. it's the way that nothing changes (because even reform in their dynamic would be an unimaginable loss) but everything is new (because even if joker knows all 50,000 bat-certified fight moves, he's never seen them in that order before. but that's just it, that's muscle memory embodied. he adjusts, and bruce adjusts to him adjusting.)

like yes, their brand of muscle memory comes in the form of wrapping their hands around each other's throat when they go to pull each other close. but when you can map out every wrinkle and scar on those hands in your sleep and you know the exact second they will let you take you next breath... what else is that but love?

[my-rose-yard]

BATJOKES is kinda like VANCO,

but in a different font. ♡

[my-rose-yard]

bruce wayne x jack napier - power dynamics

('friend across the river' au - where Bruce and Jack met as kids during a Wayne charity event, which led to the boys meeting, becoming friends and later forbidden lovers)

Jack topped when they were teenagers/ young adults.

With this dynamic changing when he fell in the chemical pit and became the Joker.

Now Batman would mostly take the lead: by slamming Joker against the wall or ground with rage just to then kiss him mid fight.

The battlefield becoming their mouths, which'd be fighting for control and victory.

This would make the kisses these rough and desperate: teeth clanking, make-up smearing, saliva connecting, blood dripping sessions/fights.

Most often with the Joker losing and Batman asserting full dominance. "I, ah, didn't expect you having this in ya, sugar. Where'd my shy n' prudish boy go? huh?" "He left with the sweet and tender boy, you once were."

[my-rose-yard]

bruce wayne - HEADCANON

TRIGGER WARNING! mentions of: self-harm, suicidal-ideation, suicide attempts I don't romanticise these behaviors and try to be as respectful while writing about these difficult themes. These headcanons are just my thoughts, so if you disagree just keep scrolling and have a wonderful day x

Was a very depressed, thus suicidal teen - keeps carrying a feeling of guilt for the death of his parents. He'd self-harm as a form of punishment while expressing his internal pain into fysical one, this would also be his silent scream for help.

He never told Alfred how he felt, nobody taught him to express and talk about his emotions. It was his body that was his language. His red tired eyes, the blue circles under them. His slouched posture, his scrawny body and face as an effect of his loss of apetite. The disheveled hair that kept falling over his eyes, like a curtain shielding him from the world. At last the fresh scars, red irritated skin, purple bruises and deep scratches.

Alfred wouldn't pry or push the boy to talk. He'd just silently tend to the wounds, clean, desinfect and bandage the cuts. Put ice packs on the bruises, massage them with ointment.

Then he'd make Bruce some warm ginger or mint tea with honey and his favorite buiscits. He'd brush the boys hair, untangling knots.

Bruce would end up resting his head on his butler's shoulder, inhaling his cologne that smelled like home, comfort and safety.

Small tears would roll down his cheek which Alfred would wipe away. They'd sit like this, with Alfred carresing Bruce's hair. Most times the exhausted boy would fall soundly asleep on his cartakers lap.

Bruce had multiple suicide attempts in the span of the years: at some point Alfred ended up feeling so distraught and helpless that he'd spend the nights in Bruce's bedroom - keeping watch on the boy so that Bruce couldn't keep trying to hurt himself. He'd also hold the crying and shaking boy after his nightterrors. Alfred would gently lul him back to sleep.

The depression didn't dissapear with age, Bruce just learned to mask more. His suicidal tendencies would translate into his recklessness as Batman. Instead of self inflicted pain, his body would now be littered in battle scars.

Bruce feels that he deserves to be in such pain. He sought and found meaning in his suffering.

Alfred would wait in the batcave, ready to tend to Bruce's wounds, he did it masterfully thanks to his expierience as a war medic.

There wouldn't be a day where some part of Bruce's body wasn't bandaged. They'd rip and stain under his suit, with no time to heal as he'd go for patrol the next night.

Even as a teenager, he'd wear long sleeves to cover his bandaged arms and wrists.

Though he knew who he would leave behind if he were to be gone. His loyal guardian, who dedicated his life to the Wayne's. Who took the role of a second father upon himself when tradgedy struck.

Bruce never wanted his actions to transfer his agony on someone else. He didn't want to be the cause of more hurt. He knew the world was already drowned in pain. Somewhere deep inside he kept being thankfull for his failed attempts.

[my-rose-yard]

HEADCANONS - KARL HEISENBERG

The scars that taint his whole body (mostly) aren't consequences of Karl's dangerous work on machinery. They're the deliberate results of the torture inflicted by Miranda with a whip.

Karl's symbolic form is a horse -> Miranda would whip this poor boy daily as a form of punishment / breaking his proud spirit and putting him in place.