Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

The League thought it was a one-time thing. Maybe Bruce lost a bet, or was going through a “phase.” But no. The next day? He walked into Watchtower HQ like the Met Gala came early.

Cornrows still fresh, with tiny silver bat charms threaded in the design.

Edges? Slicker than oil on marble.

Lashes fluttered with every blink, casting shadows across his cheekbones.

Lipgloss: Reapplied. This time a deep, sultry brown with a shimmer so rich it made Barry slow-walk past him just to stare.

Nails? Short, matte black polish. Classy. Subtle. Vicious.

Brows? Sculpted with the precision of a WayneTech laser.

He didn’t even acknowledge the shocked stares anymore. Just walked in with Y/N at his side, arm casually wrapped around her waist while she held his pink velvet toiletry bag like it was a crown jewel.

Conference Room Reactions: Round Two

Clark: "Okay—this is real now, isn’t it?"

Diana: "He's glowing. Like... literally. Is that highlighter?"

J’onn: “His aura has become... radiant.”

Barry: quietly “...Is this what confidence smells like?”

Bruce glanced at the table of heroes and sat. Slowly pulled a compact mirror from his bag. Checked his gloss. Smacked his lips. “Still good.”

Y/N, seated beside him in a cropped sweater and designer boots, popped a grape into her mouth like she was watching her man take the throne.

Clark tried to be mature. “So, uh, you’re really… keeping the look?”

Bruce didn’t look up. “What look?”

Barry leaned in. “The lip gloss. The lashes. The—”

Bruce looked up, one brow raised, lashes fluttering. “Barry. I fight crime in leather every night. You think I care about what people think of my lashes?”

Dead silence.

“...fair,” Barry whispered.

Then Damian walked in.

And that was when the Batboys realized this wasn’t a game anymore.

Wayne Manor – That Night

The Batcave was quiet. Too quiet. Until—

Jason: “Bro. Bruce. Are those… rhinestones?”

Bruce, tightening his gauntlets with gloss-covered lips: “Just a little sparkle.”