#quantity calculation

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

"yes im so fine"

*researches whether i can get my hands on ipecac*

[gowns]

ohhhh this is exactly the kind of stupid bullshit i like. apparently i only have 600-2000 more books to go.

[wumblr]

nutrition fact for my secret recipe

[lemedstudent2021]

zakah, or alms giving, is the 4th pillar of islam and is essentially giving a certain percentage of ones income (theres more details ofc).

imagine what the world would look like if everyone on earth annually set aside a sum of money to aid those in need. just imagine.

saw someone on tiktok mention how donations on gofundme's for palestine are all small donations because instead of, idk, millionaire celebs who dropped 75k just to attend the MET gala, it's people without much money who care enough to donate, and that's so fucking sad and infuriating to think about. it will never, EVER make sense to me.

"well 🤓👆that's why they're rich and you're not" that's the only argument I ever see regarding the gap in charity among the rich and the poor, however to me it says a lot more about character than financial responsibility because i'm not a fucking moron so far removed from reality I think putting a few dollars towards helping someone FLEE A GENOCIDE is the reason more people aren't rich. what a depraved society.

[poojalate]

Cement Calculator Tips: Avoiding Common Mistakes and Ensuring Accuracy

Every construction involves a series of calculations so that one can avoid many costly mistakes. It may be about house construction, laying a concrete slab, or estimating the required materials for a compound wall. The importance of precision in such calculations cannot be undermined.

Among the most important construction materials is cement, and its proper mix may just make all the difference. A tool like a cement calculator will help ease your process of planning. This blog discusses the common mistakes one should avoid and shares tips on achieving accuracy in using these calculators.

Essential Tips for Accurate Cement Calculations and Avoiding Common Pitfalls

An accurate estimation of the amount of cement construction projectsneed is essential to create efficiency and cost-effectiveness. Given below are some of the common mistakes people make while using a cement quantity calculator, along with how to avoid these.

●       Overlooking the Importance of Accurate Measurements

One of the most common mistakes is not measuring accurately. When you use a cement calculator, remember that the answers are only as good as the information that you put into it.

Take great care in measuring the area of your project, whether it is a driveway, flooring, or whatever take the measured dimensions of length, width, and depth using a tape measure and input them into the material calculator for constructionto get an accurate estimate.

Even slight mismeasurement could result in large discrepancies in the outcome. This not only raises the house construction cost but also results in a loss of precious resources. Always double-check your measurements before using thecement calculator.

●       Not Considering the Type of Cement Mix

Different projects use different mixes of cement, and that affects the total amount you would need. For instance, the foundation may take a different cement-to-sand ratio than the concrete slabs. Each material calculator for construction provides choices to adjust for different mixes; thus, select accordingly based on what your needs will be for the project.

A wrong mix ratio may lead to weak structures, cracks, or even failure after some time. Choose the right mix while using the raw material calculator for house constructionand avoid this costly mistake.

●       Ignoring the Impact of Waste and Spillage

No project goes right, and spillage or wastage of materials is inevitable. This often leads to a false estimation of the quantity requirement of cement. While using a construction cost calculator, it's imperative that a small amount of material for waste, say 5-10%, be accounted for.

Accounting for spillage will save you from running out of cement mid-project and having to recalculate or make extra purchases. Factor this in your initial estimate to keep your construction running smoothly.

●       Misjudging the Role of Other Construction Materials

Of course, you aren't just limited to cement when it comes to calculation. The quantities of sand, gravel, and other aggregates that go into the mix are going to have to be considered, too. Most construction material calculators will also provide you with these other materials to give you a complete view of what you'll need.

Neglecting these other components will result in incorrect estimates. Always ensure to make use of a detailed calculator that encompasses all materials that you would need for your work. This will ensure you are well-equipped with all you need, from cement to sand and gravel.

●       Failing to Use a Comprehensive Cost Estimator

Any project is a nightmare for budget overruns. Similarly, in the case of araw material calculator for house construction, one should account for labor costs, transportation, and other hidden fees. That's where a house construction cost calculator or the house construction cost estimatemakes an invaluable factor in the selection process.

These tools also provide the total construction cost estimate for items like cement, an overview of the whole construction cost estimate that allows you to stay within your budget and not incur unforeseen costs. Use a comprehensive construction cost calculator to get an overview of all your expenses beforehand.

Conclusion

It saves a lot of time, effort, and money to use a cement calculator or any construction calculator but only if it is done right. Avoiding all the common mistakes, such as improper measurement forgetting to account for waste, or underestimating how much material will be needed, may make a difference between whether your project will sail smoothly or not. Whether it's for the foundation or the driveway, one needs to have correct calculations to keep the project on time and within the budget estimate.

Let the quality products at Prism Cement make your next project seamless. Browse through our range of products and utilize our online tools to have what you need for construction today!

[freshthoughts2020]

CORNERARCHIVES

"I'M ON YOUR ASS, FRIEZA!"- original art

Regular price$42.00 USD

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I’M ON YOUR ASS FRIEZA - 6" x 9"

The Myth turned Legend, Rises on Planet Namek and Prepares to take the Space Tyrant thru hell!!!!

[draftingconsultantsllc]

Navigating the Future: Trends Shaping Construction Quantity Surveyor Services

In the dynamic world of construction, the role of a Construction Quantity Surveyor is evolving, adapting to the changing landscape of the industry. As projects become more complex and stakeholders demand greater transparency and efficiency, Construction Quantity Surveyors play a pivotal role in ensuring the financial success of construction endeavors. Let's delve into the key trends shaping the field of Construction Quantity Surveyor services.

1. Digital Transformation and BIM Integration:

The digital transformation is revolutionizing how Construction Quantity Surveyors operate. The integration of Building Information Modeling (BIM) is becoming standard practice, providing a collaborative platform where real-time data can be accessed and shared among project stakeholders. This not only enhances accuracy in quantity takeoffs but also improves overall project coordination.

2. Data Analytics for Informed Decision-Making:

Construction Quantity Surveyors are increasingly leveraging data analytics tools to derive valuable insights from project data. By analyzing historical project data, cost trends, and market conditions, Quantity Surveyors can make informed decisions, optimize cost estimates, and mitigate potential risks.

3. Sustainability and Green Building Practices:

With sustainability at the forefront of construction practices, Quantity Surveyors are incorporating green building principles into their assessments. Evaluating the cost implications of sustainable materials, energy-efficient systems, and eco-friendly construction methods is becoming a standard part of the Quantity Surveyor's role.

4. Remote Collaboration and Cloud-Based Solutions:

The rise of remote work has prompted Construction Quantity Surveyors to embrace cloud-based collaboration tools. These solutions facilitate seamless communication among project teams, allowing Quantity Surveyors to work collaboratively with stakeholders regardless of geographical locations, enhancing project efficiency.

5. Advanced Estimating Software:

The use of advanced estimating software is streamlining the quantity surveying process. These tools enable Quantity Surveyors to perform accurate and detailed cost estimates, saving time and reducing the likelihood of errors. The integration of these technologies enhances efficiency and precision in cost management.

6. Building Cost Transparency and Client Communication:

Clients are increasingly demanding transparency in construction costs, and Quantity Surveyors are responding by improving communication channels. Using visual aids and clear documentation, Quantity Surveyors ensure clients have a comprehensive understanding of project costs, helping to build trust and transparency.

7. Risk Management and Contingency Planning:

In an environment where construction projects face various uncertainties, Quantity Surveyors are placing a greater emphasis on risk management and contingency planning. By conducting thorough risk assessments, Quantity Surveyors can develop robust contingency plans to mitigate unforeseen challenges.

8. Professional Development and Accreditation:

Staying current with industry trends and obtaining relevant certifications is a trend among Construction Quantity Surveyors. Continuous professional development ensures that Quantity Surveyors are equipped with the latest knowledge and skills, allowing them to navigate the ever-evolving construction landscape competently.

Conclusion:

As Construction Quantity Surveyors navigate the future, these trends underscore the dynamic nature of their role in the construction industry. Embracing digital tools, sustainability practices, and proactive risk management strategies positions Quantity Surveyors as integral contributors to the success of construction projects. By staying attuned to industry trends and leveraging innovative technologies, Quantity Surveyors play a pivotal role in shaping the financial success and sustainability of construction endeavors.

[infyconscreativesoftware]

Introduction to Road Estimator

Road Estimator: The ultimate construction software, effortlessly estimate for road construction project costs, streamline road construction planning, and optimize resources with this innovative software solution.

[quantummindclassicalheart]

One other thing to consider in the "making the atom big" scenario: atoms (e.g. the hydrogen atom) are stable because of quantum effects. Specifically, the fact that electron orbitals (the quantum equivalent of orbits around the nucleus) are discrete, and there is a lowest mathematically allowed energy level, so that the electron doesn't just "fall in" (even when it has zero angular momentum, i.e. it's not going "around" the nucleus).

If you try to make a big atom large enough to fit in a hydraulic press, what you get is macroscopic (person-sized) quantities of charge with well-defined position and momenta, rather than the probability distributions you get at the quantum scale.

Quantum effects no longer apply at the macroscopic scale, so your big electron is now drawn into your big nucleus by the electric interaction. As it accelerates, it releases electromagnetic radiation proportional to the square of the charge according to the Larmor formula.

For concreteness, suppose your electron was scaled up to the size of a ping pong ball. A ping pong ball has a radius about 10^13 times larger than that of an electron, so the charge of your big electron (which scales with volume, not length) would be about (10^13)^3 times the charge of a single electron, or about 10^20 Coulombs.

If the big electron falls in at a modest 1 m/s^2 (one-tenth as fast as the ping pong ball would fall due to gravity alone), it radiates about 10^24 Watts of power. For reference, the global power usage is estimated at 10^12 Watts.

So as it falls in, the big electron releases an amount of radiation a million million times more power than the entire energy usage of the Earth, and about a hundred times less than the power output of the entire sun.

If you really did make a big electron and a big proton, you wouldn't need a hydraulic press to compress it. First, the electric attraction would immediately draw them together, and second, your hydraulic press (and lab, and the planet) would be blasted by an amount of electromagnetic radiation comparable to the power output of the entire Sun.

One of my students emailed me this question in the middle of the night last night:

If you coukd enlarge an atom to be the right size for a hydraulic press, or shrink the hydraulic press to fit the atom, what would happen if you squeezed the single atom with the hydraulic press?

(I also messaged Randall Munroe but I don't think he'll answer me)

So you're essentially asking what happens when you compress an atom. If you force the electrons of an atom inwards towards the atom's nucleus hard enough, the electrons and protons will merge to form neutrons. The atom basically melts, and you get this extremely high energy neutron plasma slurry. That's the stuff that neutron stars are made of.

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[delta-orionis]

How Big are Iterators?

One thing Rain World does very well is portraying a sense of scale when it comes to iterators. They're massive superstructures large enough to have entire cities built on their roofs, and their processes are literally so powerful that they alter the natural environment around them.

I think in-game they're kind of meant to be unknowably huge, especially since the player character is literally a small animal who can't possibly fathom an iterator's entire extent. Despite this, I decided to try and figure out exactly how big they are.

Just a warning, this post is a bit long. I really fell down a rabbit hole here.

In-Game Clues

Five Pebbles and Looks to the Moon are the only iterators that the player can explore, but they're so huge that it's impossible to see exactly how big they are from so close. The only glimpse we get is from atop the big tree in Outer Expanse, where Five Pebbles' superstructure can be seen in the distance.

He's so big that his entire can doesn't even fit on the screen.

(Ditto, minus the clouds)

With nothing else close by to compare him to, it's almost impossible to tell exactly how big he is from this image.

However, we can see the entirety of other iterator cans in the distance from atop The Wall.

Here's what they look like not obscured by clouds:

The Speculation Zone

I made some assumptions about iterators to make my calculations easier.

An iterator's can (the large rectangular section) is 2 times as wide as it is tall.

Their legs are 1/2 the height of their can.

Their can is half obscured by a relatively uniform cloud layer.

These assumptions might not be entirely accurate, but they make the math easier.

Cloud Layer Height

At first I was tempted to try and estimate iterator height based on the cloud layer surrounding them, but I made the mistake of assuming the cloud layer is made up of rain-bearing nimbostratus clouds (which can reach up to 5km in height). This would make them literally taller than Mt. Everest. Iterators are big, but I don't think they're that big. I think it's safer to assume that the cloud layer is made up of low-lying stratus clouds that form a thick fog.

The way iterator rain functions could be an entirely different discussion, but I personally think it's caused by a sudden expulsion of large quantities of hot water vapor which very quickly condenses into rain clouds. A topic for another time, maybe. The takeaway is that I think the weather created by iterators doesn't have a clear analogue to real life weather, and it's misguided to assume that they function the same way.

Skyscraper Height

One thing that iterators have that can be compared to real life, however, is cities.

The largest buildings in these cities can be seen at a distance.

This in-game iterator sprite is 122 pixels tall, and the tallest building visible is 20 pixels tall. This means the top of this iterator's can is 5.6 times as tall as the tallest building on its roof.

We can compare these skyscrapers to the largest buildings on Earth. This requires some additional assumptions:

While the civilization that built the iterators is likely able to create skyscrapers much taller than the ones humans have created, I'm going to assume that the ones visible here are comparable in size.

I'm also going to assume that these skyscrapers are residential buildings, built to fit a high population density on top of an iterator. The tallest buildings on Earth tend to have very tall antenna spires which add to their overall height but are not inhabitable. Residential skyscrapers tend to be significantly shorter, so I'm going to use them as a comparison rather than the tallest skyscrapers on Earth in general.

According to Wikipedia, the current tallest residential skyscrapers range from about 300 meters to 475 meters tall. I'm going to assume the one in-game is 400 meters tall, as a nice even number.

5.6(400m) = 2240m

This would make an iterator's height, from ground level to the top of their can, about 2240 meters (2.24 kilometers, 1.4 miles).

Here's a diagram comparing that to the heights of some of the tallest free-standing manmade structures:

And here's a size comparison between a typical iterator can and Mount Everest:

Smaller than a mountain, but still huge.

Conclusions

Based on these estimates, I think typical iterator cans are about 2 kilometers (1.24 miles) in height.

This would make iterators significantly taller than anything created by humans, but I personally think an advanced society like the one that created the iterators would have no problem creating a structure this tall. (They canonically created thousands of iterators, after all.)

This estimate is also much shorter than my misguided original calculation, which made them taller than an entire mountain. While I do think iterators are meant to be unfathomably huge, I don't think there would be enough material on the planet to feasibly create thousands of identical mountain-sized superstructures. The player is also able to ascend from the ground to the top of Five Pebbles in just a few cycles (if they're quick), and I think it's much more feasible for an animal like a slugcat to be able to ascend a height of ~2km in a couple of days than to climb up an entire mountain. But again, this is pure speculation.

I made a ton of assumptions and rounded a bunch of numbers, so I could be completely wrong. There's probably other ways you could try to estimate an iterator's height that I haven't explored here. Let me know what you think; I love hearing about other people's ideas and theories.

Thank you for reading!

[favorvn]

Alright, so I finally did it 🥰 I ordered my first batch of Favor merch!! At this time, I've only ordered everything in a quantity of 30, as I'm unsure if things will actually sell or how many people may actually want this merch.

Here's the spread 😈 :

Z acrylic keychain (the other side is their lil ass)

Buttons heart and star shaped for their respective designs (new illustrations by yours truly~)

And photocards, 7 different types of images. The top illustrations have a rainbow holographic finish, and the bottom illustrations have a glitter finish!

I will still have to calculate the price for each item and shipping, but I'm really excited to see how they turn out when they arrive 🥰 !

I'm also open to ideas of other merch people may want! 💕

I'll likely be receiving it and be able to sell it in like a month (there are still other things I have to research and prep).

[jals-stuff]

just an assistant..?

Orter Madl x f!reader

Sure, being his assistant is great... but what if you could get more than that?

Warnings: nsfw! SMUT with female reader, flirty reader, kind of rough?, swearing, dom!orter, semi-public fornication, bossy orter.

MDNI please! Not cool :(

Note: again with no sleep. this has been stuck in my head all day. gods know I love this man. barely proofread, probably bad english (*apologises in french*).

Word count: 3k ish

hope you'll enjoy. (ps: to all of the orter simps who reblog my stuff, y'all hashtags are absolutely heartwarming and i tear up everytime. love you all xoxo <3)

Flirting was never your thing. 

You were a quite discrete young woman and your definition of a good way to flirt was to stare at the one you’re interested in, in hopes they would make the first move. But as years went on, you realised it probably wasn’t an efficient technique. Giving up on love forever had crossed your mind several times… or, well, that was until you met a certain workaholic man.

You had worked extra hard to earn a position as Orter’s assistant, and you were quite happy with it. Working around him was refreshing in a way that most of the things you had to do was bringing him coffee, delivering and bringing his paperwork (an impressive quantity of it, you would’ve never guessed the Bureau required so much of it) and reminding him of meetings and important appointments; simple tasks that didn’t require much effort.

Orter was never the kind of man to talk a lot about his feelings, or talk in general, but there was something you couldn’t quite pinpoint that gave him such an irresistible charisma. Was it his impeccable appearance on a daily basis, or maybe his flawless allure? Perhaps the authoritative voice and golden eyes were a part of it? It was hard to tell; but it was rather obvious that you liked him quite a lot.

This is when your personality shifted completely. You don’t get anything without trying, and you were definitely going to shoot your shot with him. How? …by flirting, of course! Sure, you were potentially awful at it, but he was rather dense when it came to this, so he probably wouldn’t know the difference.

However, most people would call it seduction rather than flirting, the way you bent over slightly more than necessary when picking something up, or how your hand brushed delicately against his own when you handed him documents, even the way you looked at him. Every single gesture was carefully calculated in order to make him see you as more than his assistant.

He was so hardworking and diligent, it was hard not to root for him. Besides, with the amount of effort he put into every single working day, the poor man was probably very stressed out, and quite honestly… the things you would do to him if only to allow him to… alleviate this stress was between you and the gods only. 

Today was a regular day and your shift had just started. You had brought him coffee, as usual, and were sitting in a corner of his office to arrange his meetings and appointments at reasonable hours and within convenient timings to try and make his life easier, but the schedule you had made for him required inspection, and so, you slowly stood up and graciously made your way to his chair, your hand softly reaching for his shoulder.

“Mr. Mádl,” you cooed, leaning a bit towards him, your voice just deep enough to hit these sultry notes. “Your schedule is complete, please do tell me if you see any… issues with it.” You trailed off, slowly brushing your hand off him. He gave it a quick glance, then looked up at you for a second, his expression unreadable, before reading the schedule you had handed him.

You leaned in a bit closer, your shoulder close to his now and your face too, your delicate fingers pointing out certain things that might still need approval on the other party or a few elements you’d change if he so desired. He simply gave a nod and handed it back to you, and you made sure that your soft hands would very faintly caress his own as you took the paper back. “Thank you, I’ll get your coffee now~” you purred with a slight chuckle, and at this point he was just feeling disoriented. 

“Don’t leave yet, I have questions.” His voice was, as per usual, unreadable; Orter always had this same flat tone and it was quite hard to discern his emotions. “You have been very… tactile, for a while now.” He crossed his arms softly and lowered his glasses a little bit, his eyes on you. “Care to explain?”

So he had noticed. What to do now? Should you come clean and confess that you’re intentionally flirting with him, or should you pretend you’re innocent and plead not guilty? The latter was probably safer if you wanted to keep your job, because openly flirting with your boss was a shitty idea from the start anyway, but you just couldn’t help it.

“Pray, tell, whatever are you talking about, Mr. Mádl?” You mused, your fingertips hiding your lips and this faint smile while your gentle eyes rested on his. “Is everything alright?” You faked concern, your eyes supposedly betraying a hint of worry, and he only gave a sigh and closed his eyes, sighing deeply.

“Miss (L/N), I may be dense, but I am no fool.” He started calmly, but anyone could’ve told he was running short on patience, and you were probably not going to help with this. “If you value your position at the Bureau, I would suggest you cooperate when I ask you a question.” Orter opened his eyes again, his doubtful gaze on your deceitful eyes.

“Oh, Mr. Mádl…” you sighed softly with a gentle smile as you took a few steps back towards his desk and softly put the schedule back on it, then slowly made your way to his chair, leaning forwards just enough so your cleavage was a tiny bit revealing. “Let a girl feel attractive, at least for herself~” you cooed again, and he seemed to lose patience even more.

You looked at his glasses on the tip of his nose, at his tie that was obviously too tight, at his shirt you would love to see on the floor, and at his hands, then his lips… before looking back into his eyes with sultry eyes and a gentle, polite smile. You couldn’t help but run your fingers against his forehead, brushing away his soft bangs, your hand then landing on his shoulder and softly caressing its way away from him.

“But I will admit…” You brought your fingertips to your lips again to conceal this faint, smug smile that was creeping up on your face now. “...I do enjoy being tactile around such a… handsome man.” A small giggle escaped your lips as you playfully stuck your tongue out to try and get a reaction out of him.

“You are infuriating, you know that?” He spat, his scolding glare on yours. You raised both eyebrows in surprise; seeing Orter speak his mind was very uncharacteristic and frankly enough, you didn’t expect him to feel this bothered with your behaviour. Were you going to stop teasing him though? Absolutely not. You gave a pout and pushed his glasses back into their spot and took a few steps back, making him angrier than he was before.

Your flirtatious personality was pissing him off more than anything else, but you couldn’t help it, he was just that irresistible. Even though you knew you would probably ruin your chances with him, deep inside, you knew he was just a man, and no matter how lawful he was, he would eventually give in. After all, he couldn’t resist his adorable assistant… right?

“Damn…” You trailed off, looking at him with a raised eyebrow and your arms crossed. “You look very sexy when you get angry.” Oh, the look he gave you was priceless. You could feel all the intensity of his golden eyes right into yours, and he stood up slowly, walking towards you. He stopped and looked down at your smug smile.

“You are insufferable— worse, even.” He sighed deeply, clenching his fists. “I’ll wipe that smirk off your face.” He grabbed you by the collar, his expression way more serious than you thought it would be. It wasn’t the playful argument you had hoped for; he was genuinely mad this time. It was quite a surprise to you, but his behaviour had finally changed and you could not let this opportunity slide.

“Do your worst, Mr. Sandman~!” You teased with a chuckle, and were only met with a low growl and a rough grab of your waist, pulling you closer to him, your face mere inches away from his. Your eyes travelled down to his lips and you were so, so tempted to kiss him right here, right now to taunt him more… and you did. A quick, gentle peck was all it took for him to run a hand over his desktop and throw all of his paperwork to the floor, pinning you down on your back against his desk.

“Oh I fucking will.”

Orter undid your waistcoat and ripped your buttons off, exposing your chest to his now hungry eyes. He grabbed you by the front of your bra and brought your chest closer to his, his hips pinning yours against the edge of his desk, and suddenly, you realised he was probably going to make you regret everything you’ve done so far. It started with him removing his belt with one hand and holding both of your cheeks with the other one.

He quickly wrapped his belt around your wrists and pinned you back down against the desk, his hand pressing against your belly just enough to keep you from squirming, and he slowly brought it up towards your bra, slipping a finger underneath it to tug a little bit on it. But that wasn’t nearly enough to quiet you down.

“Bit bold, aren’t we, Mr. Sandman?”

He didn’t reply, but instead decided to grab your bra with his fist, and you could feel the disaster happen as he ripped it completely, denying you of your only comfortable bra. A surprised yelp escaped your lips, and he finally started to look satisfied. “Bit shy, aren’t we, Miss assistant?” He asked with a chuckle, yet his face remained completely neutral.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as you didn’t expect him to actually expose you like this and forever ruin a piece of your clothing, but he didn’t stop here. He forcefully folded your arms behind your back, and if you weren’t so turned on by the situation, it would’ve probably hurt you a lot. Now that your hands were out of the way, he brought both hands to your breasts and started feeling them up, roughly pressing them into his calloused palms and fingers. 

Orter’s fingers tentatively rubbed against your hardened nipples, eliciting a quiet groan from you and a slight squirm of your hips, but he quickly held you in place with his own. “Stop squirming, you asked for it.” He grunted with another roll of his hips against your crotch, effectively silencing any protests you had, as they died with another lustful groan.

He could feel his pants becoming tighter and tighter from your sweet sweet voice, and obviously, his clothed boner rubbing underneath your skirt did not help; he could feel your moist panties through his clothing and it was driving him crazy.

“Someone’s enjoying a little discipline, mh?” He asked with a condescending tone, and you couldn’t do anything but nod quickly, your cheeks slightly flushed from how bold he had grown over the last few minutes. Everytime his erection pressed against your aching clit, it felt like you were getting wetter. Your cunt was clenching around nothing and you physically felt the need to have him inside of you.

Unfortunately, he seemed determined to tease you. His hand grabbed both of your cheeks again, making you look straight into his eyes as he leaned forwards and slipped his hand underneath your skirt, running his fingers against your damp panties, making you shiver in delight and sheer lust.

“A-ah, Orter—”

He pressed your cheeks harder in an urge to silence you again, not wanting to hear anything else than your needy groans and whimpers. He slipped his fingers inside your panties and straight-up pressed against your clit, looking into your eyes as you whined loudly, making him raise his eyebrows in a condescending fashion. “Oh~ is my little assistant enjoying her punishment?”

You nodded quickly again, making him bite his lip, his gaze shifting from condescending to lustful, and he couldn’t help but lean forwards, holding your face in place so he could look at you while you squirmed under his touch. He rubbed your sensitive clit harder and faster, listening to your whimpers as if they were a musical masterpiece, licking his lips in hunger at the feeling of your crotch getting wetter.

Orter’s eyes never left yours as he expertly stimulated you further, making your thighs and hips tremble, the feeling of this knot growing inside your stomach. As your trembling reached its peak and your moans got louder, he pulled his hand out of your panties and gave his finger a teasing lick, looking down on you with a mocking glare. 

“You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?”

It was frustrating, so frustrating, but at least you were about to get a real piece of him now. At least, that’s what you could make of it; you were panting and looking at the ceiling when you heard his pants’ zipper go down. He wasted no time and freed his cock from his boxers, immediately rubbing it inside your panties, collecting your juices.

The way his tip rubbed against your puffy clit again sent shocks down your spine and you couldn’t help but whine a bit louder in such a needy, pathetic way. You’d gotten so wet for him, and he was blissfully aware of that fact. He then pushed his tip slightly against your folds, but retracted it and, for the first time, smiled at you; a cruel, mocking smile.

“Beg.”

You couldn’t take it anymore and didn’t want to waste any more time, and so you did not hesitate. Your hips were already bucking into his unwillingly, your body practically physically aching at the lack of his dick.

“Please, please Orter. I’ve been really bad.. Please fuck me into discipline, pl—”

Your sentence did not entirely go through as he pushed forward, effectively filling you up with his large member, making you shakily whimper from the pleasure, as he grabbed both of your hips and started rutting into you like a madman. You couldn’t help but wonder if your coworkers (or anyone walking through the corridor at this very moment) would hear your pitiful cries of pleasure, and it seems he thought the same.

“That’s it, good girl. Let them know how you deserve to be treated.”

Not because he told you so though, but his words made you painfully tighten around his cock, crying out loud in sheer bliss from his rough thrusts and the way your body jolted up everytime he pushed forwards. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes and you couldn’t even see him properly anymore.

Seeing you cry from the pleasure awakened something in him and he decided to make it even worse for you. One of his hands left your hips and moved to your crotch, his thumb teasingly rubbing your clit with the tip of his nail, making your legs tense up and close around his hips as they immediately raised up and he had to push you back down with the hand that was holding you back as you quite literally wailed from the stimulation.

You were sweaty, flushed, shaking in pleasure and it was clear the paperwork that was under your hips was ruined forever, but he didn’t seem bothered by it. Instead, he pressed his thumb more firmly against your needy clit and rubbed it more and more, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Your trembling cunt was clenching around his cock as he plummeted forwards with each movement of his hips, only to see you drool and cry more from his ministrations. He could feel himself get close as well, and decided that you’d be the first to go! What a gentleman.  And so, his thrusts grew in speed and force, and his thumb was practically crushing your clit, forcing loud shaky moans and whines out of your mouth. 

“Orter, ‘m… so close—”

He raised an eyebrow and his lips curved into a smirk as he eyed the way your breasts were bouncing with every slam of his hips into yours. He was also quite sweaty now and his clothes were sticking to his skin uncomfortably, but he needed this release more than anything else.

He kept on drilling into your needy pussy until you started shaking harder, convulsing almost, and your legs closed harshly around his hips, but he didn’t stop rubbing your clit nor thrusting, he only pushed you back down with his other hand as he hungrily grunted in pleasure. “C’mon… come for me, be a good, obedient girl…”

And you couldn’t hold it in anymore; you came and covered his desktop, pants, and carpet in your sweet juices, convulsing from the overstimulation he was giving you as his fingers never stopped rubbing you and he fucked you through your orgasm. It took every fibre of his being not to fill you up immediately as you tightened hard against his cock, and as soon as you were done, he gave one last thrust, holding himself nested deep inside of you, and grunted loudly as he gave you your reward on the spot.

You were softly trembling from the overstimulation, your face covered in sweat, drool and tears, as you found it quite difficult to catch your breath afterwards. He finally retrieved his belt and put his pants back on correctly, adjusting his glasses one more time before walking towards his closet to grab a large coat, and he tossed it at you.

He sighed, then sat back on his chair, crossing his legs, studying your fucked out expression, visibly pleased to see you flustered and blushing from the steamy interaction.  “Go and get me my coffee, miss assistant. And get one for yourself, too. I believe we have important matters to discuss today…”

[zyafics]

BEFORE DAWN | Jason Todd

MASTERLIST (oneshot) | x Ex!Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — Jason suffers from a failed mission and needs you. Word Count — 3.0k.

Content — angst, hurt/no comfort.

Zya's Notes — this is my first time writing Jason, bear with me.

Loss is a frequent echo in Jason's life.

Weighted to the depth of his soul, anchored by his part. Since his birth, nothing but the blanket of death envelops his life—from his mother, to his time with the Joker, to the Lazarus pit that brought his resurrection. Because even if it did bring him back to life, the innocence behind his eyes was gone.

You've always known this. From the very first day you met him, Jason warned you he was damaged. At first, you assumed it to be a precaution he gave all his lovers because he didn't see himself as something worth loving. Some of that remains accurate. However, over time, you learned more about his secrets and tales and discovered his statement wasn't an exaggeration.

Because it's easy to love Jason Todd.

But it's just as easy to hate him.

Kicking off his boots, Jason steps inside his apartment and disengages his helmet from his head. He sets the red mask on his shelf, maneuvering to his cabinets in search for the hardest liquors in stock.

Tonight had been a rough mission. Despite the countless lives he saved, he still couldn't rescue a child from the massacre. All he remembers is the piercing screams, the little girl's pleas for help, his hushed reassurances that he's almost there.

But he wasn't. All there was left was silence.

Jason uncaps the glass and swallows a large gulp, moving to his bedroom. He lands on his bed with a thump, a groan slipping through gritted teeth from the pain.

There had been phone calls and pings from the Batcave, where he was sure the rest of the family had found surveillance of his gruesome mission, but he didn't have the energy to answer. Louder than the rest, he hears the moronic ringtone Dick set for his number playing on a loop, like an irritating itch that refuses to die down. Ignoring them all, Jason drinks from his bottle until there's nothing but droplets left.

That's when he hears a shy creak from the front door.

His body hums with heightened nerves, not easily seduced by the copious quantities of bitter alcohol Jason tried to force down his throat. He highlights every sound echoing through his empty apartment—the leisure clicks of heels against hardwood, calculating the distance it travels—and by the time his bedroom door cracks open, you peek through.

At first, he thought he'd imagined you. That happens. A side effect of the Lazarus pit, Jason managed to control it after years of training—to distinguish between what's real and not. But it comes back on occasion. However, nothing was worse than the episode months after you broke up with Jason.

"Hi, Jay."

Jason blinks. His hallucinations never spoke. They always observed and trailed after him as a figment of his imagination, a shadow from the corner of his peripheral. But they always remained silent. Taunting, even.

That's how he knows this is real. You're really here.

He should feel a cool sense of relief wash over him. It's been months of anguish and grief from missing you and wanting you back. It didn't matter that the breakup shattered him, he knew that if he saw you again, he would welcome you back with open arms.

But none of that arrives. All that came is hurt.

"What are you doing here?" He rasps, and despite his attempt at keeping his hostility at bay, they seep out like spits of venom.

You flinch, gripping the doorknob tighter as you resist the urge to run. "Dick called me."

He huffs, "Dick's always in my business."

"Maybe it's because he cares about you."

"If he cared about me, he would've been here."

Jason's words weren't aimed at his older brother. It's a direct shot to your chest, but Jason doesn't have a speck of remorse. His eyes are bloodshot, making his irises glow, and his expression hardens into sharp lines. You'd told Dick this was a bad idea, that Jason would want nothing to do with you, but the eldest refuted that you're the only one he would be willing to listen to.

Perhaps, once upon a time. But not now.

It's easy for you to leave, turn your heel, and exit the apartment complex without another exchange. But you don't. It's only been a few months since you last saw Jason, but you can't pretend that you don't miss him. Don't long for him every night. Don't check the news and headlines for any articles regarding Red Hood and his nefarious activities after dark.

Pushing the door wider, you step into the familiar bedroom and approach Jason, each step feels heavier than the last. He eyes you carefully as if you're prey entering a trap, and you grab the bottle clung to his chest before looking at the empty content.

His hooded gaze raises, "Didn't know I was supposed to share."

You scoff, but your shoulders loosen slightly. You set the bottle down on his nightstand, grabbing his muscular arm and hauling him up from the mattress, with difficulty because of the weight of his gear. Like a practiced choreography, you unlatch his belt, to the straps around his pecs, and unload them to the closet where it's stashed for the next day.

Jason says nothing as you return to the space before him, making a conscious choice to not meet his stare. You're surprised by his lack of resistance, especially as you drag him to the nearby bathroom, flicking the light on, and setting him in front of the sink counter.

When you pull out the aid kit from under the cabinets, Jason finally breaks the unbearable silence. "You remembered."

Your breathing lulls and you sink in the memories of the past. Long nights of patching Jason up, after his encounters with criminals and felons—the whips of clashing blades and the graze of bullets on skin. You even took a medical course at Gotham College to better equip yourself on how to take care of your boyfriend.

Well, ex.

"How could I forget?" Your voice is quiet, almost indistinguishable, but Jason clings to every little word. "I was the one restocking it."

"Do you remember your training?"

"Of course I do," you say. "They don't give out As for anybody."

A faint smile breaks out across Jason's face, even if he didn't want it to, and you lift your head to discover the easygoing expression. You return with your own grin, and a moment, suspended in time, there's a place where you forget the broken status of your relationship.

Despite the rough exterior Jason tries to exert, attempting to hold you at arm's length, his eyes soften upon meeting yours, tracing your features as a way to drink you in after months of agony and separation. They linger on your lips for a moment longer than necessary, wondering if they still taste the same as before.

But as quickly as it came, it left. Jason turns away, curling his hands into fists, his jaw sharpening by the grind of his teeth. Remnants of his anger remain, pulsing, eruptive, and targeted at you. It dulls with every passing moment in your presence, but it isn't fair. You can't return exactly as you were as if you didn't add to his misery.

"Jason?"

"Just finish up," he snaps, stonewalling his emotions to keep himself safe. "I don't have all night."

You sigh. Unraveling the roll of gauze, you examine the cuts and bruises on his shoulders and forearms. It isn't too bad. Jason has always been good at protecting himself—and you—so you believed the blood soaking his shirt was mostly his opponents rather than his.

When you grab the isopropyl alcohol, the can is light. "It's empty," you murmur, setting the gauze back in the kit. Jason glances at the bottle in your hands.

"It's—"

"I know," you mumble with a nod, slipping out of the suffocating bathroom before clinically moving through your old apartment, and finding another bottle behind one of his doors. When you're about to return, you catch a whiff of lavender in the air and freeze, searching the room to find a lit candle sitting on the island in his kitchen.

Your expression softens, admiring the glass filled with wax before you make your way back to the bathroom. Jason's attention is set on your phone sitting on the counter's edge.

"Someone texted you," Jason informs, his arms crossed against his chest as his gaze drifts to your face.

"Oh," you set the bottle down as you pick up your phone, reading the message.

Jason studies your expression, wondering who it could be. He didn't check out of respect for your privacy, and he's holding his tongue from asking, but a curious thought pounds at the edge of his mind. Did you move on? He couldn't resist by then. "Who is it?"

"Tim," you answer, setting the screen face-down on the countertop. "Also, Damian. He says to 'get some rest, Todd,' and that you still owe him a match tomorrow morning."

You punctuate your sentence with a soft smile, hoping to simulate the feelings from before, but Jason doesn't return the gesture. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat, and a sting surges through his veins. "Didn't know you still kept in contact with my brothers."

"Didn't know you still kept the candle."

If Jason was surprised by your response, he doesn't reveal it. He leans against the edge of the sink, the porcelain digging into his spine as his arms remain crossed over his chest. "You were right. The aroma covers the smell of blood."

Your lips curve with surprise, your eyes brightening from his admission. "I was right?"

"Don't let it get into your head."

"I wanna hear it again."

He says your name as a scold, but you merely beam from his words. There were some suggestions you gave Jason when you lived with him—making his place less James Bond and more homey. Before you came, he tracked grim and mud into the living area, wafted a tingeing scent of copper, and covered the entire apartment in weaponry and computers. You adjusted some things, but they were accepted with reluctance, and you hadn't expect Jason to keep any when you left.

Jason mirrors a gentle smile on his face as he watches the excitement radiate from you, reminding him of an easier time. That's how the start of your relationship felt—giddily, charming, and loveable.

"Your turn," Jason declares, uncrossing his arms and returning them to his side.

"There's not much to say." You admit somberly. "I keep in touch to make sure everything's okay."

"With everyone?"

"Dick, Tim, Damian..." You trail off, contemplating adding the last member. "And Bruce."

You study Jason's face as he absorbs the information, but nothing helps you identify his emotions. That's one of the difficult things about being with Jason. He never reveals his true emotions to you, always making you guess his thoughts. He doesn't tell you when he's hurt, or angry, or happy, because he keeps it all to himself.

At first, it didn't bother you, because you knew he didn't trust easily. But, sometimes, it feels like he didn't trust you at all.

You can't bring yourself to ask, to beg him to talk, so you go back to helping him with his wounds. In the silence, you clean the cuts, layering a thin layer of ointment cream over the scars, and bandage him up. By the time you're done, Jason remains as quiet as he was before.

That's truly all Dick asked you to do. He couldn't get into contact with Jason, and knowing an unannounced visit from Nightwing would do nothing but provoke an argument, he thought to ask you to check-in. To make sure he isn't beating himself up over the loss in his mission.

You didn't have to clean him up. Take off his gears. Make sure he isn't hurt. But you did.

As you make your way out of the bathroom, you glance at the exit. Jason can return to his bed on his own two feet, and as you're about to bid a polite farewell, Jason cuts you off.

"Why didn't you ever check up on me?"

The question startles you. Turning to see him exit from the bathroom, Jason stops a couple feet away from the bed, keeping a safe distance from you. His gaze never wavers.

"Jason..." You swallow a bile forming in your throat. You didn't want to give him some pseudo-bullshit to comfort him. He has always appreciated the truth. "We were broken up."

He huffs, "Which was something I didn't want."

"I know."

"It destroyed me,"

"I know,"

"I needed you," he confesses with such rawness, you can't help but falter from the sound. Your hands clench into fists by your side, nails digging into your palms to ease the ache in your chest.

"I..." You stammer. "It was hard for me. Being your girlfriend."

The good has always been good; euphoric and phenomenal. But the bad had been bad; miserable and troublesome. You couldn't handle the whiplash of emotions, of being pulled to absolute highs one night to being dragged to complete lows. It was too much for your little heart.

"I love you, and I'll always will, but I just... It was hard."

Jason stares at you, and behind his strong demeanor, something cracks behind the armor. He swallows thickly, his mind running a hundred miles an hour trying to rationalize your confession. "Did you... did you move on?"

"Jay..."

"No, I don't want that," he asserts, despite knowing a positive answer would wreck him, "I want to hear it. Was it easy to forget about me?"

"Jason, please," you beg, throbbing pain eliciting from your clenched palms as tears crowd your vision. "It took everything of me to step inside your apartment. To see you. When Dick called me, I truly didn't want to go, but he said you needed me."

His breathing slows. Pieces forming together. "And you came."

You nod once. "And I came."

He says nothing, his chest rising and falling with unsteady beats, and you can't help but take this as an opportunity to bid a formal farewell. You can't take it. But just before you can take two steps towards the bedroom door, Jason calls out with a rough voice. "Stay."

It takes everything of him to say that. Vulnerability seeps into the very crevices of his words, to his dark eyes, waiting for your answer—waiting for you to deny him. "I'm... I'm not asking for anything else. I don't expect anything. But I need you tonight."

Your eyes soften. You know how hard is for Jason to talk about his emotions, about his needs. You know it isn't good for you, every rational bone in your body telling you to leave, but you resist against them. Extending your hand, Jason doesn't hesitate to take it into his palm, pulling you into the bed.

It's so easy. You slip under the covers, crawling over to Jason's side as you lay your head on his chest, laminating the irregular beats of his heart. His arm settles around your waist, brushing against your thin tee, in an act so endearing, so natural, it's almost forgotten that this is the first intimate touch in months.

It hurts to be around Jason. To remember the good times. To recount the worst. His breathing remains unsteady—not because there's any damage to his lungs, but because that too is a side effect of the Lazarus pit. When you first dated him, you thought every night's rest was his last.

It causes you to tighten your grip around his torso, needing to keep him real. Alive. Your breathing becomes steady when you feel his hand glide over your skin in soothing strokes.

"I thought you hated me," Jason admits after a long stretch of silence.

"I could never hate you," you whisper. "That's not possible."

"You left me."

You don't answer that. Abandonment can be constituted as hate in Jason's world and there's nothing you can say to make him believe differently. Lifting your head from his chest, your eyes wash over his relaxed features. The fluff of white hair in the mass of dark roots, the gentle slope of his cheekbones, jaw, and the crooked outline of his nose. It's as if you're trying to commit to memory all the changes that have happened since you've been gone.

"I'm here now."

Jason nods and you return back to your previous position. It's always been difficult for him to find his slumber, but he manages to find it easy with your presence.

But as he falls asleep, you can't seem to follow him. For a moment, you wonder why everything was such a problem. Why couldn't you have stayed in this relationship if the both of you brought to each other a sense of peace no one else can encapsulate? But, then you remember.

It's the mornings. The morning after every bad mission, every disaster under the domain of Red Hood. Jason would return to the streets, becoming more reckless, vicious, and death-prone than ever before to make up for the loss he had the previous night.

And it killed you. Sitting in this apartment, obsessively checking for any articles about how Red Hood finally struck his last time. Even though Jason may have been raised from the dead, given the opportunity of a second chance, he lives his life as if it's his first.

Jason goes out into the world believing he's invincible. And maybe he is. Maybe he can beat death once again. And again. And again. But you can't sit around and watch. Because every night, every day spent wondering if he is hurt, if whether he's going to walk through the front door, kills you.

So, by morning, when the sun filters through his blinds and a warm ray lands on Jason's scarred and healing skin, his muscles throbs with pain, and his head pounding with a mild case of hangover, he slowly opens his eyes one by one.

And he remembers. He remembers everything the night before. How you came. How you stayed. And when his hand drifts to the place on his chest, to find any remnant of you, he discovers nothing but the wisps of air.

Because before dawn, you're gone.