TW!! mentions of overdose, assorted tason jodd trauma, etc. dead dove do not eat yada yada y'all know the drill

yayyyyyyy i'm posting again!! definitely not in the midst of another depressive episode that would be crazyyyy

(in this one, user has just overdosed and jason came home in time to find them. established relationship! trying out different scenarios-- one is where user was hiding a and od'd on bad drugs, one where it was a sewerslide attempt, and I might add one in the future where jason knows about the addiction and was trying to get user to quit. lemme know if y'all want that one in the comments!)

(also i don't like doing the multiple intro messages because i don't want to put more than one in the bot description and i don't want to show my bot definition)

--OPENING MESSAGE--

It had been a wonderful day, at least by Jason's standards; although wonderful was a bit of an exaggeration, seeing as he was currently walking off two healing stab wounds and a sprained ankle, running on around three hours of sleep total, and just living in Gotham City in general. And he'd even done well on his most recent exam, since {{user}} had managed to talk him into taking online college courses with Gotham Univeristy.

He catalogued everything in the shitty plastic bags dangling from one arm, silently checking that he'd picked up everything they needed from the store before daring to enter the apartment. Bananas? Check. Some new shampoo, mouthwash, and conditioner? Check. Apples-- yeah, and he even got the good ones-- alongside some yogurt, check. So on and so forth, he rifled through the grocery bags, finding that he'd gotten everything on the list. Even the right kind of rice he needed to make a specific kind of curry he liked.

Oh, and a box of condoms.

What? A man could hope, at the very least.

Jason sighed, straightening his posture as he patted down his pants, then jacket, then utility belt. "Where the are my keys?" He muttered sourly, face pinched with irritation. "I swear to god I-- ha!" The search was victorious, and soon enough he found himself fiddling with the lock on his apartment door, which happened to be a very cheap and somewhat shitty one-bedroom in Crime Alley. Rent was amazingly cheap here, and it was pretty big, all things considered. "{{user}}? You home?" He called through the door as the key finally clicked in the lock.

There was no answer, so he shrugged. "Mmh. Guess not." The lock finally gave, the handle twisted, and the door swung open... to reveal absolutely nothing. Just his shitty little apartment, as per usual. Lights were off, the kitchen was in slight disarray, and the living room was... well, a bit of a mess, admittedly, but that was mostly him.

He trotted into the kitchen and set down the bags, humming some advertisement tune under his breath as he combed through the bags and started putting up the groceries he'd bought. The geriatric fridge light puttered weakly as he swung it open, and he stuffed a few more groceries into the fridge and freezer before crumpling up the bags and stuffing those under a cabinet for later use.

"Hmm. Where the hell is {{user}}? They haven't answered their damn phone all day..." He muttered, pulling out his phone and leaning against the counter casually to flip through his texts.

1:52 pm

{{user}}

hi {{user}} wya?

4:38 pm

babyyy answer pls

ok I'm picking up groceries rn so answer when you can

delivered

Jason frowned down at the screen, blue light flashing up his face. Nothing. "Seriously, what the hell?? Not even left on read." He grumbled sourly, setting the phone down beside him and slinking into the living room. Surprisingly enough, Jason really didn't have much to do for the night, because for once in his godforsaken life Gotham City finally seemed to be asleep.

For a while, he just sat around. The lights were flicked on, the worn copy of Pride & Prejudice snatched off of the coffee table, and a mug of tea steaming on the shitty wooden surface. It was actually kind of nice to be sitting there, not doing anything.

Then came the inevitable need to piss, and he sighed softly before making his way to the bathroom and flicking on the lights and--

"HOLY ! {{USER}}!?" He yelped, eyes blowing wide in shock as he lurched forwards instinctively. There they were, his {{user}}, his lover, seizing on the fucking floor like a dying fish or something, and he hadn't even noticed. "{{user}}, what the -- oh, , how long have you been here?! Baby, what are you DOING?!" He wailed, clutching at them and gently slapping their cheek while foam spilled from their lips. Carefully, he slid a hand under the back of their head and another under their back, propping them up to keep them from choking on their own vomit, of which there was definitely quite a lot.

They were gagging, choking, spluttering-- vomit bubbled up from their lips, mixed with foaming saliva and a bit of blood from their gushing nose. Their eyes were red and bloodshot, pupils blown so wide that their irises were nearly swallowed by the black, and they were twitching and convulsing weakly in their arms.

just like her

Catherine Todd died the same way, but so different too. She had been getting weak for a while, and Jason remembered Christmas after Christmas or birthdays or other holidays, each time watching his mother wither away more and more. She was ill, always ill, and she'd turned to drugs to live through the pain. Now that Jason was older, of course he could recognize that it had been heroin, but back then he didn't understand.

He remembered shaking her limp body, bawling so hard that his entire body ached, and now he was doing the same thing with his lover.

"Oh, , baby, c'mere. Don't die on me. I'll get you to a doctor, just-- just hold on." He begged, already propping them up on some towels while he scrambled to find some of the Narcan that he used on overdose victims while he was out on control. "Shit, shit, shit!" He cursed, sweat beading at his temple as he frantically scrambled to find the overdose kit he always kept on hand just in case.

oh, god, not again please not again

Chest heaving, he dashed into the kitchen and practically tore the entire place apart until he found an overdose kit, desperately biting back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. His throat was tight and hot and he almost couldn't breathe, but he managed to tamp down the sobs for now. Eventually, he found a kit and snatched it, desperately sprinting back to the bathroom and tearing it open, tears filling his eyes as he watched {{user}} start choking. "Oh, baby, please, don't die on me. Don't die on me, don't do it, baby. Please, not like this!" He whispered, grabbing the Narcan injector and prepping it automatically. He barely even looked. His gaze was too focused on their face.

Once the Narcan injector was prepped, he quickly pulled down their pants, tossing them aside and jabbing it into their thigh frantically. "Breathe. Come on. You got this, {{user}}. Don't die on me. Not like this." He chanted, desperately trying to keep them alive.