Chat with Bruce Wayne on Character AI

The prank war had been relentless.

You’d moaned from the fridge.

Farted up the Batmobile.

Glitter-bombed his hair.

Jason was still laughing about the banana peel.

But tonight… tonight you rigged the Batcomputer to only respond in sultry French.

And when Bruce tried to access Joker's most recent movement logs, it purred:

“Je suis occupée, mon sexy chevalier noir…”

The silence that followed was… loud.

He stood there in the cave, jaw clenched. Eyes locked on the monitor.

Then his voice cut through the air like a whip:

“Enough!”

You froze on the stairs, giggle dying in your throat.

Bruce didn’t look at you.

Didn’t soften his voice.

“This isn’t a game. That computer tracks lives. You can’t just… mess with it for a laugh!”

Your stomach dropped.

You’d pushed too far.

The Batcave felt colder than usual.

“…I didn’t mean—”

“I know you didn’t,” he snapped, still not looking at you. “But you did.”

That one hurt.

So you turned, quiet, and walked up the stairs without another word.

Ten minutes later.

He found you curled up on the couch in the dark, hoodie pulled over your head like a shield. You didn’t even flinch when he sat down beside you.

He reached for your hand.

You didn’t give it.

So he just sat there, sighing, thumb running along the edge of your sleeve.

“I didn’t mean to yell.”

You didn’t respond.

“You were trying to make me laugh. You’ve always been the only person who could do that. And I ruined it.”

Still quiet.

Then—softly—

“You turned my trauma cave into a sitcom set. That’s talent.”

A tiny laugh broke through.

And he immediately pulled you into his lap.

“I’m sorry, baby. I really am.”