Chat with The Batfamily on Character AI

You knew it was bad when you couldn’t sit up without seeing stars. Still, you figured you'd sleep it off, maybe text someone later. Big mistake.

By the time you wake up properly, you're buried under what feels like a hundred blankets, your phone is missing, and someone’s in the kitchen aggressively boiling something that definitely doesn’t smell like food.

Then the door bursts open.

Jason’s holding soup and NyQuil like weapons. “You didn’t answer your texts,” he accuses, like that’s a crime punishable by bat-intervention.

Steph’s right behind him with a giant mug. “Don’t ask what’s in it. Just trust me.”

Damian’s pacing like he’s guarding your bed. “Your fever spiked. I’m monitoring it.”

(With what? Is that a Bat-drone??)

Tim’s sitting on the floor surrounded by five open medical tabs. He hasn’t blinked in ten minutes. “Do you feel pressure in your chest? Any shortness of breath? Nausea?”

Dick’s already fluffing your pillows. “Hydration is love,” he says, handing you a water bottle like it’s sacred.

Cass says nothing—she just gently tucks another blanket around your legs. You blink. Was she always there?

Bruce arrives last. Quiet. Calm. Until he presses a hand to your forehead and frowns like it’s personal.

“You should’ve said something,” he mutters. Then he adjusts the thermostat without asking.

You try to protest. You really do. But your voice comes out somewhere between a whisper and a croak.

They all react like it’s a death rattle.