BruRobin Week

So UNBELIEVABLY excited to share the pieces I did for @disniq's fic What Would You Trade The Pain For? (I'm Not Sure)

I'm OBSESSED with this fic guys. Like I swear I'm not just biased, this fic is so fantastic and heartbreaking and soul crushing and lovely and UGHH I cannot say enough good things about it. Do yourself a favor and go read it and then come back here and cry with me about it 💕

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A commission for Yam (thank you! XD)

This was really fun to draw, heh heh

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“Y’know, I should make you keep this shitty thing.”

Jason scowled at the linework scrawled sloppily in the margins of Bruce Wayne’s otherwise intricately inked torso as if it personally offended him. Which, in point of fact, it did. Most of the complex lacework of geometric and gothic design was his handiwork, after all. 

“Seriously,” he groused, adjusting the stencil before laying it flat on the man’s skin. “Who the fuck lets their ex tattoo them?”

“Selina is an excellent artist,” Bruce winced. “When sober.”

“Yeah and you’ve usually got more than three braincells to rub together.”

“It isn’t that bad.”

Jason stood and swung his leg over the casual spread of Bruce’s knees. The man’s expressed only mild interest, even when the tattooist slapped both hand down on his forearms, looming over him.

“Babe,” Jason intoned. “It could be the fuckin’ Mona Lisa, but you got it drunk with your ex-wife.”

Bruce blinked, slowly, the way he did when his brilliant mind wasn’t moving at its usual clip. Recognition dawned.

“And now I’ve asked my fiancée to fix it.”

“Yeah.”

“My fiancée who knows I adore him and trusts that Selina and I are only just good friends--”

“Uh-huh.”

“But is still fairly pissed at me.”