#AI Powered Payments | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mostlysignssomeportents · 3 months ago

Text

What the fuck is a PBM?

TOMORROW (Sept 24), I'll be speaking IN PERSON at the BOSTON PUBLIC LIBRARY!

Terminal-stage capitalism owes its long senescence to its many defensive mechanisms, and it's only by defeating these that we can put it out of its misery. "The Shield of Boringness" is one of the necrocapitalist's most effective defenses, so it behooves us to attack it head-on.

The Shield of Boringness is Dana Claire's extremely useful term for anything so dull that you simply can't hold any conception of it in your mind for any length of time. In the finance sector, they call this "MEGO," which stands for "My Eyes Glaze Over," a term of art for financial arrangements made so performatively complex that only the most exquisitely melted brain-geniuses can hope to unravel their spaghetti logic. The rest of us are meant to simply heft those thick, dense prospectuses in two hands, shrug, and assume, "a pile of shit this big must have a pony under it."

MEGO and its Shield of Boringness are key to all of terminal-stage capitalism's stupidest scams. Cloaking obvious swindles in a lot of complex language and Byzantine payment schemes can make them seem respectable just long enough for the scammers to relieve you of all your inconvenient cash and assets, though, eventually, you're bound to notice that something is missing.

If you spent the years leading up to the Great Financial Crisis baffled by "CDOs," "synthetic CDOs," "ARMs" and other swindler nonsense, you experienced the Shield of Boringness. If you bet your house and/or your retirement savings on these things, you experienced MEGO. If, after the bubble popped, you finally came to understand that these "exotic financial instruments" were just scams, you experienced Stein's Law ("anything that can't go forever eventually stops"). If today you no longer remember what a CDO is, you are once again experiencing the Shield of Boringness.

As bad as 2008 was, it wasn't even close to the end of terminal stage capitalism. The market has soldiered on, with complex swindles like carbon offset trading, metaverse, cryptocurrency, financialized solar installation, and (of course) AI. In addition to these new swindles, we're still playing the hits, finding new ways to make the worst scams of the 2000s even worse.

That brings me to the American health industry, and the absurdly complex, ridiculously corrupt Pharmacy Benefit Managers (PBMs), a pathology that has only metastasized since 2008.

On at least 20 separate occasions, I have taken it upon myself to figure out how the PBM swindle works, and nevertheless, every time they come up, I have to go back and figure it out again, because PBMs have the most powerful Shield of Boringness out of the whole Monster Manual of terminal-stage capitalism's trash mobs.

PBMs are back in the news because the FTC is now suing the largest of these for their role in ripping off diabetics with sky-high insulin prices. This has kicked off a fresh round of "what the fuck is a PBM, anyway?" explainers of extremely variable quality. Unsurprisingly, the best of these comes from Matt Stoller:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/monopoly-round-up-lina-khan-pharma

Stoller starts by pointing out that Americans have a proud tradition of getting phucked by pharma companies. As far back as the 1950s, Tennessee Senator Estes Kefauver was holding hearings on the scams that pharma companies were using to ensure that Americans paid more for their pills than virtually anyone else in the world.

But since the 2010s, Americans have found themselves paying eye-popping, sky-high, ridiculous drug prices. Eli Lilly's Humolog insulin sold for $21 in 1999; by 2017, the price was $274 – a 1,200% increase! This isn't your grampa's price gouging!

Where do these absurd prices come from? The story starts in the 2000s, when the GW Bush administration encouraged health insurers to create "high deductible" plans, where patients were expected to pay out of pocket for receiving care, until they hit a multi-thousand-dollar threshold, and then their insurance would kick in. Along with "co-pays" and other junk fees, these deductibles were called "cost sharing," and they were sold as a way to prevent the "abuse" of the health care system.

The economists who crafted terminal-stage capitalism's intellectual rationalizations claimed the reason Americans paid so much more for health care than their socialized-medicine using cousins in the rest of the world had nothing to do with the fact that America treats health as a source of profits, while the rest of the world treats health as a human right.

No, the actual root of America's health industry's problems was the moral defects of Americans. Because insured Americans could just go see the doctor whenever they felt like it, they had no incentive to minimize their use of the system. Any time one of these unhinged hypochondriacs got a little sniffle, they could treat themselves to a doctor's visit, enjoying those waiting-room magazines and the pleasure of arranging a sick day with HR, without bearing any of the true costs:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/27/the-doctrine-of-moral-hazard/

"Cost sharing" was supposed to create "skin in the game" for every insured American, creating a little pain-point that stung you every time you thought about treating yourself to a luxurious doctor's visit. Now, these payments bit hardest on the poorest workers, because if you're making minimum wage, at $10 co-pay hurts a lot more than it does if you're making six figures. What's more, VPs and the C-suite were offered "gold-plated" plans with low/no deductibles or co-pays, because executives understand the value of a dollar in the way that mere working slobs can't ever hope to comprehend. They can be trusted to only use the doctor when it's truly warranted.

So now you have these high-deductible plans creeping into every workplace. Then along comes Obama and the Affordable Care Act, a compromise that maintains health care as a for-profit enterprise (still not a human right!) but seeks to create universal coverage by requiring every American to buy a plan, requiring insurers to offer plans to every American, and uses public money to subsidize the for-profit health industry to glue it together.

Predictably, the cheapest insurance offered on the Obamacare exchanges – and ultimately, by employers – had sky-high deductibles and co-pays. That way, insurers could pocket a fat public subsidy, offer an "insurance" plan that was cheap enough for even the most marginally employed people to afford, but still offer no coverage until their customers had spent thousands of dollars out-of-pocket in a given year.

That's the background: GWB created high-deductible plans, Obama supercharged them. Keep that in your mind as we go through the MEGO procedures of the PBM sector.

Your insurer has a list of drugs they'll cover, called the "formulary." The formulary also specifies how much the insurance company is willing to pay your pharmacist for these drugs. Creating the formulary and paying pharmacies for dispensing drugs is a lot of tedious work, and insurance outsources this to third parties, called – wait for it – Pharmacy Benefits Managers.

The prices in the formulary the PBM prepares for your insurance company are called the "list prices." These are meant to represent the "sticker price" of the drug, what a pharmacist would charge you if you wandered in off the street with no insurance, but somehow in possession of a valid prescription.

But, as Stoller writes, these "list prices" aren't actually ever charged to anyone. The list price is like the "full price" on the pricetags at a discount furniture place where everything is always "on sale" at 50% off – and whose semi-disposable sofas and balsa-wood dining room chairs are never actually sold at full price.

One theoretical advantage of a PBM is that it can get lower prices because it bargains for all the people in a given insurer's plan. If you're the pharma giant Sanofi and you want your Lantus insulin to be available to any of the people who must use OptumRX's formulary, you have to convince OptumRX to include you in that formulary.

OptumRX – like all PBMs – demands "rebates" from pharma companies if they want to be included in the formulary. On its face, this is similar to the practices of, say, NICE – the UK agency that bargains for medicine on behalf of the NHS, which also bargains with pharma companies for access to everyone in the UK and gets very good deals as a result.

But OptumRX doesn't bargain for a lower list price. They bargain for a bigger rebate. That means that the "price" is still very high, but OptumRX ends up paying a tiny fraction of it, thanks to that rebate. In the OptumRX formulary, Lantus insulin lists for $403. But Sanofi, who make Lantus, rebate $339 of that to OptumRX, leaving just $64 for Lantus.

Here's where the scam hits. Your insurer charges you a deductible based on the list price – $404 – not on the $64 that OptumRX actually pays for your insulin. If you're in a high-deductible plan and you haven't met your cap yet, you're going to pay $404 for your insulin, even though the actual price for it is $64.

Now, you'd think that your insurer would put a stop to this. They chose the PBM, the PBM is ripping off their customers, so it's their job to smack the PBM around and make it cut this shit out. So why would the insurers tolerate this nonsense?

Here's why: the PBMs are divisions of the big health insurance companies. Unitedhealth owns OptumRx; Aetna owns Caremark, and Cigna owns Expressscripts. So it's not the PBM that's ripping you off, it's your own insurance company. They're not just making you pay for drugs that you're supposedly covered for – they're pocketing the deductible you pay for those drugs.

Now, there's one more entity with power over the PBM that you'd hope would step in on your behalf: your boss. After all, your employer is the entity that actually chooses the insurer and negotiates with them on your behalf. Your boss is in the driver's seat; you're just along for the ride.

It would be pretty funny if the answer to this was that the health insurance company bought your employer, too, and so your boss, the PBM and the insurer were all the same guy, busily swapping hats, paying for a call center full of tormented drones who each have three phones on their desks: one labeled "insurer"; the second, "PBM" and the final one "HR."

But no, the insurers haven't bought out the company you work for (yet). Rather, they've bought off your boss – they're sharing kickbacks with your employer for all the deductibles and co-pays you're being suckered into paying. There's so much money (your money) sloshing around in the PBM scamoverse that anytime someone might get in the way of you being ripped off, they just get cut in for a share of the loot.

That is how the PBM scam works: they're fronts for health insurers who exploit the existence of high-deductible plans in order to get huge kickbacks from pharma makers, and massive fees from you. They split the loot with your boss, whose payout goes up when you get screwed harder.

But wait, there's more! After all, Big Pharma isn't some kind of easily pushed-around weakling. They're big. Why don't they push back against these massive rebates? Because they can afford to pay bribes and smaller companies making cheaper drugs can't. Whether it's a little biotech upstart with a cheaper molecule, or a generics maker who's producing drugs at a fraction of the list price, they just don't have the giant cash reserves it takes to buy their way into the PBMs' formularies. Doubtless, the Big Pharma companies would prefer to pay smaller kickbacks, but from Big Pharma's perspective, the optimum amount of bribes extracted by a PBM isn't zero – far from it. For Big Pharma, the optimal number is one cent higher than "the maximum amount of bribes that a smaller company can afford."

The purpose of a system is what it does. The PBM system makes sure that Americans only have access to the most expensive drugs, and that they pay the highest possible prices for them, and this enriches both insurance companies and employers, while protecting the Big Pharma cartel from upstarts.

Which is why the FTC is suing the PBMs for price-fixing. As Stoller points out, they're using their powers under Section 5 of the FTC Act here, which allows them to shut down "unfair methods of competition":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/10/the-courage-to-govern/#whos-in-charge

The case will be adjudicated by an administrative law judge, in a process that's much faster than a federal court case. Once the FTC proves that the PBM scam is illegal when applied to insulin, they'll have a much easier time attacking the scam when it comes to every other drug (the insulin scam has just about run its course, with federally mandated $35 insulin coming online, just as a generation of post-insulin diabetes treatments hit the market).

Obviously the PBMs aren't taking this lying down. Cigna/Expressscripts has actually sued the FTC for libel over the market study it conducted, in which the agency described in pitiless, factual detail how Cigna was ripping us all off. The case is being fought by a low-level Reagan-era monster named Rick Rule, whom Stoller characterizes as a guy who "hangs around in bars and picks up lonely multi-national corporations" (!!).

The libel claim is a nonstarter, but it's still wild. It's like one of those movies where they want to show you how bad the cockroaches are, so there's a bit where the exterminator shows up and the roaches form a chorus line and do a kind of Busby Berkeley number:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/news/2024-09-20-the-carlton-report

So here we are: the FTC has set out to euthanize some rentiers, ridding the world of a layer of useless economic middlemen whose sole reason for existing is to make pharmaceuticals as expensive as possible, by colluding with the pharma cartel, the insurance cartel and your boss. This conspiracy exists in plain sight, hidden by the Shield of Boringness. If I've done my job, you now understand how this MEGO scam works – and if you forget all that ten minutes later (as is likely, given the nature of MEGO), that's OK: just remember that this thing is a giant fucking scam, and if you ever need to refresh yourself on the details, you can always re-read this post.

The paperback edition of The Lost Cause, my nationally bestselling, hopeful solarpunk novel is out this month!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/23/shield-of-boringness/#some-men-rob-you-with-a-fountain-pen

Image: Flying Logos (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Over_$1,000,000_dollars_in_USD_$100_bill_stacks.png

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

443 notes · View notes

iznsfw · 11 months ago

Text

Manic Robotic Dream Girl

IZ Days of Christmas 2023: Day 4 - Choi Yena

IZ*ONE's Choi Yena x Male Reader Smut

8,311 words

Neon lights dance like flames around you. There’s no need to touch them when you’re already burning. Burning with something that’s not a fever but a kind of pain that never goes away.

Sweat pricks the sides of your face and you’re aware of the blots of perspiration running down your jawline. Nights at the Rogue are often hot, but then they surprise you with a sudden burst of windiness, so you never bother to take your coat off. Whatever and wherever, you’ll always be here yet you’ve not once been able to predict the temperature.

That’s what happened when WAKE12 took over.

Apparently, they decide if people are under the weather by controlling it by them-fucking-selves. Kwon feeling shitty? Looks like rain then. Maybe she’s feeling happy? Alright, let the clouds find balance. Angry? Take a fucking hailstorm. What a privilege, one bigger than the lives of the rich men in the North. But everyone forgets about that fact after she sends out minimal alms—canned goods, a Bible, something. Then it’s back to President Kwon is the best! President Kwon can never fail us! President—

“Vodka.”

“Same as yesterday?” asks Yuri, smiling a little bit.

“Same as yesterday.” For a hologram, Yuri can be quite the social butterfly.

Online wallets are all the rage nowadays. The AI voice in your head offers you said option to pay, and you can hear your balance privately spoken. Somehow your brow prevents from creasing as you hear it. You lack funds but somehow have a few extra bucks to drink.

Choose that. You want to save your Wizes for other things. Lock eyes with Yuri and your balance goes down. You’ve paid.

Online and digital wallets modified with embedded signals and readers were in use before you were even born. Of course, there were already such payment options in the twenty-first century, but how WAKE12 changed everything, not just ordering options with telepathic payment, can easily be read in a sixth grade history textbook.

In October of the year 2918, Kwon Eunbi rose in the ranks as a scientist and soldier for Kang Hyewon, former president, and ended up working her way into dictatorship. The textbooks and classrooms teach that she proposed a law to the court and got herself a position for her wit and intelligence. But early first accounts challenge that, saying that she caught the eye of Kang and had a sexual relationship with her. WAKE12 branded this as propaganda that sullies the name of not only the dictator but the one of the late president, who died mysteriously before Kwon rose to power.

Massive backstory for cashless payment, but you know there’s more to it than the government would like to let on. What happened to Kang? What made Kwon so evil the moment she sat in her presidential throne?

“Thank you, sir.” Holograms all have different voices; Yuri’s sounds like she’s singing. At least the bartender slash boss hired her instead of those with monotone, emotionless ones. It’s cheaper to have hologram workers than humans anyway. Less money, less emotional labor, less of feeling like a normal person.

A beggar curled up below the counter holds his hand out. Not an uncommon sight in the Auster, but it’s a pity to see. The world has advanced with its telepathic wallets and 3D holograms yet there will always be individuals who haven’t caught up with time. While the North Rogue leads worldly lifetimes, the Auster is a home for the rejects. The poorest of the poor. The somewhere-in-the-middles. It can never be truly a perfect world if advancement doesn’t include everyone.

Give him a Wize. Back then, that would have been worth a hundred or so dollars, a currency long gone. Not that you’d know of it; WAKE12 claimed leadership way before you were born so the cheap value of the coin studded with the bust of Kwon Eunbi is all you’re accustomed to.

Take your drink and thank Yuri.

The cobblestone is rough beneath your feet. You take your seat at your usual table. Float your fingers around your shotglass. Pour the contents down your chapped mouth almost all in one go. Anything to feel something. Anything to feel anything.

You’re not an alcoholic by any means, though that’s certainly up for debate. But there’s a need for the liquid that rages more than the need for oxygen (the fucking shortage of it) or food (the fucking expense of it). How else could you be less numb? You’re welcome to every feeling at this stage, just not this empty neutrality that slumbers your senses.

Pain? Your throat seizes up when you drink and brings tears to your eyes, so there's that.

Happiness? Hm, none. You’re barely smiling. You’ve no family, little friends, and no partner for the last few years. There’s nothing to be happy about.

Anger? The displays of people fined harshly for their crimes on the big as life advertising screens stir some defiance in you. WAKE12 doesn’t take kindly to hacktivists and young coders dabbling in creating their own AIs. You have your own anti-government opinions, but what’s a human mind against an artificial one? Plus, and probably a less serious reason (tell that to the thousands who flock to the hospitals because of asthma), the air is almost always polluted here in the Rogue. It’s dirtied by car smoke and factory remains. You’d think that robots taking over the labs would improve it. Perhaps they weren’t programmed that way.

Loneliness?

You look around. See the glitching phantoms of new world technology make the drinks breezily. Watch the light-studded train filled with commuters from the Auster. Kwon Eunbi managed to build an underside track for additional trains to run and still the commuters—young students, old grandparents, not young but not old workers whose jobs belong to WAKE12—wear the same tired look you saw yesterday. All you could hear are buzzes and uncanny valley voices from holograms.

The second chair paired with your table is empty. You’re suddenly lucid to the fact that it’ll always be like this. These nights of drinking and walking in the Auster Rogue will be endless, and just the same, you’ll be endlessly alone.

Sometimes mortality could be so depressing.

So depressing that it makes it all so meaningless.

A man stumbles over to the outside bar, breaking your thoughtless reverie. His clothes are as black as the night you spend but you can see blood on the fabric. The skyscrapers provide enough light for you to see his red face from anxious internal and worrying external blood. The pleading look grips his expression like a malfunctioning robot’s limb.

He’s looking back as if afraid of what might be there. The rain-soaked road is tread on roughly by his shaking knees as he crawls his way to the bar. “Please, help me!”

“Warning,” comes the voice in your head, and you know the other visitors hear it, too, “a criminal of the state is in your proximity. Proceed with caution.”

WAKE12 always keeps an eye on those who threaten them. They have goons everywhere. The kindly grandfather down the street could be a veteran waiting for the chance of a medal. They have ears everywhere as well. Undercover cops stay in both crowded and clear spaces to identify possible threats. When it all comes down to it, you’re not safe in your own head at all. The implants can detect when you dream up something terrible. That’s how millions lose their reputation. Their jobs. Their families.

Their lives.

He staggers to the counter, crashing glass that shards his palms, and lets out this wail you’d hear from an abused pup. “Please,” he croaks. “Don’t listen to them. I just need somewhere to hide. I did nothing wrong, nothing!”

The implanted voice in your brain says otherwise. Everyone was given one when the Cyber Age came. That’s what makes a tiny difference in seeing who’s human and who’s not: the tiny, diamond scar below their hairline from the operation. Close inspection can’t always be done, however. Nowadays, too many of these robots and holograms pass the Turing test. You can never truly trust someone.

“Offenses include: playing the role of an accomplice in theft of government data, distribution of terrorist propaganda—”

“Get the fuck out!” says the bartender, having burst out from the back. As a longtime visitor, you haven’t seen him this angry, but you know it stems from fear. No one wants to associate with a criminal. No one wants the association to lead to arrest and the arrest lead to god knows what. Hundreds of people go missing after they’re taken under custody. What Kwon does to them, you don’t know. “Leave or I’ll call the cops!”

Like you said, they lurk everywhere. You’re surprised they haven’t caught up to him.

The bloodied man shakes his head, like please, please, someone believe me. “No, I’m not a criminal! Listen to me, please, I don’t have enough time! They just wanna—cut down”

Rapid footsteps. Sigh and put your glass down. There they are.

The man reaches for him, but the bartender shoves the whole table into his face. He falls back on the ground and cries out for help that never comes. Men and women wearing tight black uniforms and vests pull him up. Their lit helmets that opposingly disallow a view of their faces make them look emotionless. Like robots.

Huh.

While resting your head against the metal chair, you listen to the struggling shuffles of the police and criminal, and see the glitching robots walking down the road. No real emotion, no real living.

He scratches and screams and sobs, but that doesn’t matter to them. They pull him along the rocky cement and recite his nonexistent rights to him. There’s the right to remain silent (he’s screaming), the right to an attorney (nobody in the Auster can afford a good lawyer much less an honest one), and the right to live freely if found innocent of the crime (someone getting convicted happens more often than being released).

Besides, it can’t be called living when it’s in a place so completely devoid of any humanity.

“In more ways than one,” you say. Fuck it, you’ll drink to that.

Like always, you take more than you should. You believe by now you’ve built some kind of immunity. That’s what they all think, you remind yourself, before an inevitable death that buries them in the ground one bricked shot at a time. You swear you’re not dizzy at all or feeling the acid build to your throat, so the sight gathering just a little away from you is real.

Stare at your glass. Space out if not for what you see: behind it, a shapely form of a woman in purple. The blue and violet lights make it difficult for you to distinguish it from her clothes so she actually looks naked. That shocks you more than the arrest. You’re sure she’s got a little modesty in her because why else is she making her way to a table?

Your table?

It’s like she teleported when she’s suddenly seated before you, filling the chair that’s been empty for the last more or so years. You don’t even get the chance to look up at the right time, but the moment you do, you think keeping your eyes on your glass would’ve been better for the sake of your heart.

YENA.

Her name appears in your mind and she hasn’t even introduced herself. But it’s right there, emblazoned in lights in all capitalized four letters: YENA. This girl is Yena. And this girl—this fucking guilty pleasure of a girl—is gorgeous.

The ends of her hair are tinged with blonde, and it’s hard not to give attention to that with how her locks are gathered into twin tails. She smoothes them before looking at you quite seriously, like she’s about to propose a challenge you’d lose.

Blue shining eyes. There’s something odd about the way they twinkle below her bangs—almost like something not human.

Yena dances her fingers around her jawline, elbow resting on the table, and tilts her pretty face. Lets her fingers play with her lips that are made for things the Auster’s known for providing (she can’t be from here though; those crocheted coordinates look costly). That’s how you notice that fine feature. Naturally thick and casually jutted out in a distinctive pout, your eyes are glued to them. Can’t take your prolonged stare away if someone helped you.

“Are you waiting for me to start talking?” Yena asks. She’s not angry, just amused—her voice is smooth and clear, with a tiny pitch that makes her all the more cute.

You shake your head. “Was just trying to figure something out.”

“And that is?”

“A lot of things,” you state. Things you’d keep a secret forever, lest you spill them out to a girl all for the payment of being beautiful. “But I’m not sure pretty girls like you would want to know.”

You try to keep your curious peering at her normal, but it’s difficult when she just attracts attention. She’s a glowing lightbulb in a flutter of moths. Yena doesn’t flicker weakly; she shines, and it’s honestly why everyone else is “subtly” looking at her, this gorgeous stranger who came in and somehow chose the alcoholic who came from places more rock bottom than the Auster.

She laughs. It’s sobering—you think you’ll get drunk on her rather than the cheap alcohol. “Is that what you think of me? Too beautiful to think too much?”

Look her up and down. Yeah, you want to say, that’s about it. It’s not out of offense but rather the instinct in you that wants to tell her you don’t want to put her in a worried state. She’s too… ah, she doesn’t know what you’d do for a girl like her—someone too unreal to be human but too genuine to be the “living” dolls lonely men purchase. Someone who can keep a conversation going without fearing a low blow. Someone who’s out of your league in the Rogue’s mixed pool but chooses you anyway.

“I’m just saying you might not want to hear a stranger boring you with his hard problems.”

“Oh please,” she says, waving it off with a flick of a pointed wrist. “You know my name. I know yours. We’re not strangers anymore.”

How did you—how did she—

Her eyes twinkle again. They’re… violet? You could have bet they were blue. But then you see the suspiciously smooth and clear skin, with the perfect lines of her eyelids, which curve as if manufactured in. She’s definitely not human.

“Besides,” adds Yena sweetly, “you’re really underestimating how good I can take certain hard things.”

Swallow. You opened the door, now you’re locked in.

Yena catches the bob of your Adam’s apple and smirks. Traces her fingers over yours. She can’t be human for sure yet you feel the softness of her hand, the only thing giving you doubt being how chilled her touch is. It's humid here, so where did that come from? Goosebumps pop up in masses across your skin—note how nothing shows up on hers.

Maybe she’s just a confident woman.

“Come on, I dare you.”

“Only if you go first.”

“Yes, sir,” she says. A cutesy saluted hand positions itself before her temple. Her hands are tiny, could be dainty, while her cheeks lift to support an adorable smile.

Your knees tremble. You don’t know where that came from either. Yena just knows what to say to get to a guy. Almost like she was made for it. There’s that question again, resurfacing in your altered brain: is she human or not?

You lean back. Cross your arms. Here you go, on your way to find out. “What’s your story?”

Yena shrugs, her shoulders bare and smooth. And you’re thinking of how you’d like to see the rest of them, the rest of her body naked by pulling down the crocheted strap of the purple coordinates. How you’d like to touch those puffed up cheeks and not care if they’re real or not when you pull her close to kiss her. How those lips—

“Don’t have one.”

“Sorry?”

She laughs. Even the way she giggles is attractive. “No, seriously,” she replies, licking her lips. “There’s nothing interesting about me. I’m the most normal girl there is.”

There is nothing normal about her. Everything she says is too prepared. The largeness of her eyes gives everything away. Her hair is combed too finely that you’re not unconvinced that it isn't human hair at all, though you can see them connect at the roots. It’s like someone drew a cute animated girl on a notepad one lonely night, sent the idea to a rich bastard, and brought her to life.

So no, you’re not buying it.

“So you’re saying you’re just a blank canvas.”

“If you put it like that, I guess.” Yena rolls her eyes. You’re a bit obsessed. “Guys want that, right? A blank piece of a girl they could shoot more than a shot at? Maybe paint her white?”

You’re thankful you didn’t continue drinking. Otherwise, your surprise would be visible and audible with the lodge of your throat as you wineboard yourself.

The side of her mouth raises. A soft dimple exceeding cuteness—it’s deeper, brighter, shinier. You imagine her as a college student, charming boys into submission just with a wink and a smile that can melt hearts and bring guilt to lust-addled minds.

That’s what she’s doing: Yena is melting you because of how adorable she is, but then you take a look at her body, note the fine curves it boasts, and feel the need to go to a confessional pastor. You’re not supposed to repeats in your mind, but you’re you—if you aren’t supposed to do it, then of course you’ll do it anyway.

“Woah,” you say with a nervous laugh. “Woah.”

“Look.” She rests her forearm on the table and talks so casually one would think she weren’t just talking about getting cumshots. “I‘m not taking that back, so do with that what you will.”

Under the table, behind the scenes, her leg is curled around one of yours. Her ankle glides along your skin teasingly. Not a speck of hair on all of those flawless legs, but you’re shivering anyway from the contact. Hence, make a show of closing your coat around yourself. You can’t fool her when it’s not even chilly.

Recover, piecing together the brokenness of your confidence she tore apart.

“My story is, uh, weird.”

“Tell me.”

“This might be too personal but—” You lift your shoulders awkwardly. “I used to date a girl who looks exactly like you.”

Kim Chaewon—short auburn hair, soft cheeks, and a tiny figure. She’s a memory you didn’t think of returning to today, but then Yena came here, and now you’re back to your youth.

“She was a cop. Cutest officer I’ve ever seen, but a real bitch, for the lack of a better word. Then she left me.”

“You broke her heart, didn’t you?”

Sputter. “No!” you immediately deny, shaking your head. “I—I didn’t hurt her, she was—”

A filthy lie. You became nonchalant, undeserving of a sweet woman who’d do anything for you, even give up her well-paying job. Again and again, Chaewon expressed her concerns: why were you talking to Minju? Where have you been? Why are you so mean? You disregarded them all the same. She deserved the ignorance; she was too fucking controlling, too fucking jealous.

Yena knows you’re lying. It’s like you’re a wound she can peel back to see all the ugliness, all the damage underneath. Her smile tells you everything.

“Oh, come on. I don’t care. Except for this.” Yena intertwines her fingers. Rests her chin on top of the formed platform. “Was she a good fuck?”

Your laugh is forced, trying to make a good deal out of this situation. A girl is flirting with you right after you saw someone disappear. Now you’re wondering if she’s a robot. Now, through some way, she knows you’re lying about your ex. Coincidences meet yet you refuse to connect them—parallel lines they shall stay, forever.

“Yena, what exactly is up with you?” you ask. “You just met me. And come on now, why me?”

It’s begun to be hotter in this space. Loosen your coat. Perspiration isn’t because of the atmosphere, so you find out (and what a surprise). It’s because of the woman across you, a midnight sun. If the painful sun was actually a symbol of good in the Rogue, Yena would play its role perfectly. She’d scorch through you and you’ll enjoy every second. Yeah, you’d get all sorts of tans and burns and cancers if you bask in her without protection, but my god, are you willing to take the risk.

“I just don’t like seeing pretty boys have problems,” she replies easily. “If they want, (and I know they do), I’ll take them all away. Soon, all you'll think of is me. Like I’m the sun peeking in your room and you just can’t get enough sleep because of it.”

You tense up. Millions of questions, a void empty of answers. Once again, how was she so spot on? You’re not breathing quite well, and your clothes are tighter tonight. “Yena, look, I-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Don’t be, not because you aren't, but because she said so.

She pouts. “You’re not gonna buy me a drink?”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Nope. Remember what I said? I’m a blank canvas. So do whatever you want with me. Buy me a drink. Or not. Tell me to fuck off. Or not. Force me on my knees.”

Yena kneels.

There’s no mantle on the table to cover up what she’s about to do. You gasp, then try to mask it as a poor cough, but you’re distracted by how she pulls your pants down effortlessly. The button sealing your coat is busted open and gone.

So is your dignity.

Yena’s tongue sticks out at the side of her mouth as she looks up at you with excitement and mischief in her eyes.

“Or let me do the job. I’m a big girl after all.”

She seals her teeth around your zipper and tugs down. It’s embarrassing how hard you are for her. But Yena doesn’t care. Adoration is clear on her face as she stares at your shaft, the worshipful energy in her eyes so overwhelming that she has to do something about it.

“Yena—” What a way to go out: screaming a stranger’s name.

You knew those lips were up to no good the moment you saw them. She’s provided evidence, too. Her soft lips embrace your boner and suckle fervently while dragging themselves upwards. It’s a caress that tenses you up rather than comforts you. It works you up, tying you down with the little weight Yena has. You could kick her away right now and tell her to go away. File a case against her.

You don’t.

The joined duo of careful teeth and wild tongue gets you whimpering. Shivering. Begging. How is she so good at this?

Her mouth is perfectly wet. It’s not copiously soaked to have you cringing but the perfect balance of wet and ready, coating your rod again and again. She gives you too much and just right. It would be a cruel violation if you were asked to choose one and only one.

“Baby, what the fuck—” you stammer.

Her throat’s an expert in taking you because one push of her lips to your base welcomes you in its tight hole. Your knees shake; Yena places her hands on it, not to stop their trembles but for leverage during the dip of her head.

Close your eyes, look up, and stare at skies that provide no reprieving stars. Think of how she’s infinitely bett—

“Better than any pussy, huh?” Yena asks. The third time is no coincidence, so you’ve heard. “And it’s just my throat.”

At this stage, you don’t care if she’s a robot or not, because either way, that mouth is a fucking treasure.

You lift your hips and start slowly working yourself in Yena’s face. Her lips pucker and pout to allow you inside with pleasurable friction. Those eyes—there aren’t any planets in the sky because of the pollution but you think you can see their sparkle in them.

The amazing part is that Yena doesn’t choke. She endlessly takes you in, receiving every inch like a blessed gift, but you don’t hear her wheeze. No sounds of complaints escape her. You have a feeling it’s not because of your cock sliding in and out of it. She only gags on occasion, and those already sound fake. It’s like she’s doing it just so you can get worked up hearing her moans.

While others might be impressed, you’re dumbfounded. She tightens and loosens and pushes and pulls just for your pleasure.

“Yena, I– you’re doing so good,” you compliment her in gasped breaths.

Her cheeks hollow. The suction strengthens and it now feels like your soul’s being swallowed down her neck. She knows how to tease you with light pandering from her teeth, generous licking, and strengthened swallowing. Her mouth is warm but you are more so. She’s making you feel hot in all these layers, an additional one played by her perfect lips.

Perfect hair, too, you note.

Hungry impulses take over your body and now you’re pumping your core into the girl’s face with the help of her pigtails. Yena’s hair is thick and silky, and it’s another enjoyable factor: feeling how it slips between your fingers and how each pull directs her lips to press firmly to your crotch.

She doesn’t gag with that either. She must have had a lot of experience; she did say she can take hard things fine. That is, if she were human. If not, whoever built her had dirty ideas: the lack of gag reflex surely brings in the five star ratings.

Bright star-like eyes, cute ruinable face, mouth that can take the largest.

Yep, perfect.

“Good—fucking—girl.”

Your cock weeps white. Yena feels the first drop and immediately pulls away. She pumps your shaft with a strong, urgent fist. As she hinted, you blast all over her face. Your orgasm grips you and shakes you like never before, and of course, the little brat enjoys it. She’s nearly laughing.

“There,” says Yena after she drains you. Her duck-like lips are sticky with cum. “Canvas painted.”

What a pretty painting you’ve made. Here, shown to the public, is the manic pixie dream girl, semen on her chin to symbolize how each word she utters has you climaxing; hair disheveled to show your subtle but messy rule over her, because you own her although you weren’t there when her mechanical limbs were assembled and her face drawn; and a smile on her face to show that despite all this: she likes it.

You laugh, short blunt breaths wisping in the air. “There really is something wrong with you, Yena,” you say.

She’s a girl who’s extremely pretty, good at blowjobs, and likes public sex and oral. She can also read minds. Oh, and she might not be real.

“You could say that again.” She wipes her mouth. “Though I do think I could use a little fixing from you.”

You take her home. Your mother would have been disappointed in you if she knew you violated the first law you were ever taught: don’t talk to strangers. Most of all, don’t ever let them in. But Yena is no stranger—like she said, she knows your name and for some reason, you know her own. You’re not strangers. And your mother isn’t around to command you not to kneel for a pretty girl.

This home of yours isn’t fancy, but if people from 2024 saw it, they’d be mesmerized. You’re not rich enough to afford the penthouses the North offers; this one is alright for you. The stories of the building aren’t aligned with each other, separating a few yards with floating floors that defy gravity. That’s right; WAKE12 somehow found a way to disobey the rules of physics. The ends are lit up with bright lights that blind you from miles away. Wide windows encircle the areas along with al frescos and convenient malls. Back then, this would have been classified as the house of the wealthy—you can’t say you agree with the sentiment when you’re not at all rich.

“Hi,” says Yena brightly at the front desk. She’s so smiley, always grinning like she’s just told a really clever joke. “Where’s the elevator?”

“I, uh…”

The manager looks at her oddly. Your ears redden; she still hasn’t cleaned her face up. Evidence of your deed lies there on her nose and chin and cheeks, even in her perfect hair.

“Well?”

The manager lifts the phone immediately. Before he could dial a number, Yena sighs loudly.

“Look.” She silences the telephone with a slam of the device down on the keypad. The man’s hand cringes. “I’m about to fuck this guy’s brains out and I promise your little backup bosses can’t do anything about it.”

He stares at her.

“I’m gonna use his dick until it’s limp as a balloon, then ride him in bed, then bend over on the kitchen table so he could breed me like a common whore.”

You lift an index finger to apologize, but put it back down. Did she just say you can breed her?

His jaw tenses. The teeth behind those unsmiling thin lips grit, not in annoyance but in fear. Yena’s bouncy and sweet, but apparently she’s excluding people who cockblock from her cute attitude.

“So,” finishes Yena, lowering her gaze, “where is the fucking elevator?”

The elevator has no pulley or doors. It sits at the side of the uneven floors and rises with nothing but a sizable pod. You’ve had to watch your weight to be able to enjoy the freedom from staircases.

Yena steps on it with no worry. As you look at her, you realize how positively tiny she is. That’s why she isn’t doubtful about fitting in the claustrophobic space. Her violet clothes can slip off at any time at her pull of a waist and slim thighs. All the fullness goes to her cheeks, painted with fake tattooed stars and minimal doodles.

She’s the kind of girl you could just pick up and do whatever to. You’re the kind of guy who really, really likes the idea.

Holding your hand is a thing of the past. Yena clutches your cock over your jeans as the elevator lifts the two of you up.

The first thing she does the moment you enter your home is not kiss you, or slam you to the door, or whisper dirty nothings in the hollow of your ear. Yena looks around and says, simply, “Doable.”

You chuckle. You’re not offended. It’s a tidy, minimal apartment with glass that spans a viewing pleasure of the artificial forest and the hills. Glass lost its value but skyrocketed in purchases when Jo Yuri, first activist recorded in the history of WAKE12’s domination, was imprisoned. People compared her name to glass (yuri was 유리 and 유리 meant glass) and since then, it has been used everywhere. High demand, low price. Her symbol and namesake is used the way the public wants her to be used: cheap thing convenient only to the eye. They always said she was too pretty to talk too much.

“Here, doable is the best compliment,” you reply. You go to your bedroom to clean the place. If you want to fuck a rich girl, make sure the bedroom is at least up to her standards. “You have personal maids there in the North?”

Yena continues looking around. She’s mildly fascinated by everything, especially in the big window placed on the ceiling that lets stars peer down at you. For some reason, all the ejaculation on her face is gone. You don’t remember her bringing a washcloth.

“I’m not from the North, you know.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. I don’t come from anywhere.”

You come out, having cleared your bed from clothes and the floors of trash. You fed the trash to the connected chute that all apartments have, which leads down to the Southern Auster. The word may be Latin and is already defined as south, but there’s places poorer than the part you live in. You’re lucky to be here. The Southern Auster’s where it’s much more dangerous. The people there scavenge for food and money, and their cries go unheard in the night. It’s the biggest criminal capital of the Rogue.

You come out and Yena’s sitting on the kitchen table with a knife.

Stop in your tracks.

See the blood running down her arm.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she says dismissively. “It doesn’t hurt.”

You still don’t know what to say. The wound on her skin’s dissolved to a scar that looks more like a scratch on metal. Why would she do that? Why would that do that?

“In fact, I think it’s kind of cool.” Yena slides the blade on the strap of her top. It falls apart, right down to her braless chest. A pink, perky nipple is clear in the moonlight shining from above. “When people see me, they usually want to hurt me, so I might as well do it myself, right? They want to slap me, pull my hair, choke me. They say that and figure I’m totally flattered.”

You want to say that you couldn’t blame them. Yena’s got this innocent but naughty aura about her that you want to completely ruin. There’s her hair, all dolled up and her quirky makeup that brings attention that eventually switches down to the body she doesn’t bother hiding.

But it looks like she’s doing the ruining. Aren’t those the best stories? Boy corrupts girl when it’s the other way around in reality?

To use the word “reality” when you’re with Yena is laughable. She can read your mind like a Rogue Times newspaper. You get that things you thought were impossible have a chance of happening in these days, but you don’t remember wounds healing that fast. The knife slices right through the fabric, revealing swoon-worthy curves of her waist and hips, making her bleed only not for too long. Who would want a scar-ridden skinny girl anyway?

“Well,” you say after a dutiful swallow, “are you?”

Yena examines the knife. Her crimson blood dripping from its edge is a worthwhile watch while she considers this.

She finally puts down the knife, much to your relief. “I don’t know. What about you, handsome? Do you want to hurt me or fuck me?”

“I… I’m not like them. I don’t wanna hit you or make you cry or anything. I want to fuck you, that’s completely different.”

First confession of the night that didn’t need saying when it’s clear. You let her blow you in public. You took her home. The intention is staring you in the face: you want to have sex with a girl you just met.

Yena smiles. “You’d be surprised how blurred the lines are.”

Yena‘s hands fall on your shoulders and make you fall to the kitchen chair and make your pants fall on the floor. Falling, falling, falling for her—it’s all you’re able to do provided that she’s stunning. She’s tiny with her thin arms and legs but her breasts are surprisingly supple. The cleavage her top subtly shows off hinted to that and you’re still shocked.

She’s a hot desert, and the only source you can drink of is her core. Her pussy is slick, making her thighs glue together only for them to part as she sits on your lap.

The first grind has you both breathless. The second renders a duet of moans. She’s so wet that it’s excessive enough for her to drip down your cock and completely cover it with her. Yena’s pussy lips splay and clasp your shaft with slippery friction.

She curses. “You’re so hard. Big, t-too.” She aims your cockhead at her clit and sighs at the toe-curling pleasure. “You think you can fit in me?”

“I guess we’ll have to see.”

Yena smirks. She continues soaking you with her wetness. Her juices pour from your head to your balls. Then, without warning, she sheathes your rod inside her.

You gasp. It’s so easy to slip yourself in and all too difficult to cope with how tight she is. Her walls, perfectly textured and sloppy, trap you and let you out, giving you false hope of escaping, only to imprison you again. It’s the best punishment you ever had.

Her throat was already better than the other cunts you’ve spent yourself in, so what does that make her pussy?

The best. Her overflowing waterfall lets her ride you easily. It seems like there’s a million spots inside her you can target for she quivers and cries with each bounce. Her hair flows photogenically while her chest does the same erotic motion.

“So fucking good, fuck,” Yena groans. Her round butt lands on your lap and you think you’d like it to stay there forever. Curl your hands around her cheeks. Draw a healthy moan from the throat you used.

Yena’s pussy curves and opens in every best way. She makes it so easy to mold her into the shape of your cock, to rearrange her insides. Was she made for dick? She’s so wet that you’d think she’s a nymphomaniac who won’t let you go, the same way her vagina won’t let you go as its grip curls around you and threatens to milk you to your wits’ end.

You wouldn’t mind that.

Her riding accelerates to an unbearable point the moment you start to spank her. She’s right about hurting and having sex being almost the same—you want to leave red handprints all over her jiggling ass. You want to pull her hair until she screams. You want to fuck this perfect cunt of hers right up to when she’s creaming all over you, flooding your sexes with her naturla nectar.

And the crazy thing is: she’ll actually let you.

“Fucking brat,” you say, hitting her butt again. She yelps coquettishly. “Are you really this thirsty for cock?”

“God, yes…” Her head throws back. Yena’s eyes shut and although her vision is blocked she sees stars. “Wanted to know how your dick would split me open. Fuck, keep doing that!”

Her core tightens with each blow you expel on her bouncing ass. Her hole’s already so enclosed so when she squeezes more, it’s close to having your cock tortured. You’re suffocating inside her. You’re waterboarded again and again with her waterfall of wetness.

You guide Yena’s motions with your hands on her behind. She’s so light that you’re practically using her as a doll, fucking her on your erection and letting yourself enjoy how her tits recoil. Her moans turn on a part of your brain that you don’t know, but it transmits to you these thoughts: fuck her senseless.

You raise her as high as you can, her weight nothing even to your long-untrained muscles, then slam her down. She sinks deeper into your lap and takes longer inches. Yena’s screams bounce off the soundproof walls that ensure only you can hear them. Those walls were fucking expensive, so of course you gotta let them have purpose. Slap Yena’s thighs down on yours and let her pussy envelop you right up to the point of bruises appearing on your skin.

How does she not sweat? Your hands wander all over her tight body and still you don’t find a drop of sweat. Her pigtails are still secured. You guess she was just made to be eternally pretty.

She is pretty, under any circumstance—her smooth skin possesses zero blemishes and her winged eyes remain lamp-bright. She’s pretty, even when she lets out the pitchiest sounds, even when Yena’s lips rise into a devilish smile before sealing on your neck. She nibbles on your skin and rakes up your sensitivity.

“Holy shit, Yena…”

“Yeah, that’s right.” She licks behind your ear and you nearly lose it. Maybe you already did. “Say my name. Because I’m all yours. This pussy is yours to use and abuse, so do it.”

Rub her tiny pulsing clit. Yena’s cries deafen you. If that’s not enough, she drowns you with her cum. There’s no raft to save you. You’re all alone. You’ll drown here and never see the light of day again.

Electricity runs through her body as the pleasure ramps up. Her fingers weaken on your shoulders. Her gasps are split off by larger, more surprised evolutions. Yena’s close.

“Fuck, no, I can’t!” Yena’s riding is furious and borderline abusive. The noises between your two crotches are louder than before.

“You can,” you insist. You throb inside her while her pussy becomes smaller despite the many thrusts you perform. “Take it like a good girl, Yena.”

“Fuck me, use me, I’m just your cute little helpless girl, fuck me!”

She couldn’t be more correct. She’s just a useless doll, thin and adorable and tight—so why not use her like one?

You’re surprised your limbs have any power in them, but they impress as you lift Yena up. During your walk to the counter, you don’t stop thrusting in her. She’s wet and ready, just waiting and begging for it to happen. Her pretty face is smudged with tears. There’s sick satisfaction in you from seeing how the confident girl at the bar is now just a fuckhole to use.

“Oh, oh, ah!” Cute little whines come out from those lips. Her mouth used its power to pick you up, make you cum, make you scared. In this second, all that is gone: she’ll only ever use it to wail in pleasure.

Knock her against the kitchen counter. Her thighs press to the curve. You spread them open and continue spending yourself to death in her. Her sides that slant to make the physique you love are perfect handles to thrust.

You’re completely soaked, but she’s completely defiled. The dream girl is not just any dream but a wet dream. She’s the fantasy you never had but will constantly think of now. And you don’t care if WAKE12 knows you’re fucking her. They can read all the thoughts you have about Yena as much as they like, and you wouldn’t care.

Instead of giving a fuck, you twist her around, her smooth back in front of you, and fuck her harder while you’re at it. Admire the way your hips slap her ass and give her the spanking she deserves. One spank, that’s for being so tempting. Another for the price of her promiscuity. Three one-after-the-other’s because she’s too wild, too free for a girl with that face.

“God, please, harder!” Yena cries. “Make me your little cocksleeve cumslut!”

She does not take pain to heart, physically and mentally. In spite of your rapid pumps and the slap of your stomach to her bent and ready ass, no bruises or scratches appear on her skin. You say all these degrading words and rather than mope about it, she gets more turned on. She forces you to give all your might in railing her in this apartment where the open windows give you away rather than the sounds. And you’re nodding along, saying:

“Of course.”

Of course you’ll grab her tits and pinch their nipples as hard as you can. Yena’s skin might not be humanly warm but these boobs are real. They’re soft in your palms and plentiful. Is she a masochist? You tweak and slap and squeeze; in response, she’s… smiling?

Of course you’ll slip your touch all over her body. Appreciate every perfect curve, every fine fullness. After fondling her tits, you slide your hands over her smooth pits, then to her arms that struggle to remain stable. She’s sensitive all over; it’s evident in the way she babbles each time you caress her.

Of course you’ll take her hair and pull as hard as you can. She won’t get mad. Nothing ever gets to the cool girl.

“Oh my god!” Yena shouts.

Those pigtails are there for a reason. Thrusts become easier to do with her hair curled in between your digits. Her ass meets your crotch easily and you find yourself excavating her cavern, hitting her in all the good places. Yena hums and screeches and sobs.

“Bad girl.” Her hair plays the role of your reins. They’re convenient in spreading Yena apart with your shaft, tearing at her tightness. “You’re nothing but a filthy cocksucking slut.”

“M-mhm, yes, just for you, just for this perfect dick, ahh! I’m cumming!”

Yena’s core flexes and contracts. It holds you like it never wants you to go but you let go anyway. You can do nothing besides that especially if it’s her, someone who’s so cute but so seductive, so challenging but submissive. Each part of her—those blowjob lips, her blooming face, her cockiness—makes you wish this could never end.

The first sign of the end of this pornographic one-reeler is your semen raining inside her, setting a storm in her guts. You pant, legs weak, while Yena’s seem to go on forever although she’s smaller than you.

The second sign is the mess she made. Those aforementioned desirable legs are painted by obscenity. She squirted all over your floor and herself. Your cum coats her vulva plus spills down freely.

Yena looking back at you with a tired smile is the last one, along with her asking, through shattered breaths, “Better than your whore ex?”

Because that’s the thing about girls like Yena. They’ll do everything to please you. Perhaps she’s a good dresser, but really, this is your style, not hers. This type of fashion is what you like on women: modestly revealing. Girls like Yena will give you everything, make you discover yourself, and when all this happens, she’ll remain the thoughtless, forgiving girl. She won’t complain about things that will set you off and say coy, clever things, the kind men like to hear.

All just to be better.

She is.

“Yeah.”

Yena chuckles. For a moment, she looks like the sweetest girl in the world. The happiness overtakes her face and makes her smile reach her ears.

It disappears as fast as it arrived.

“Wrong fucking answer.”

Alarm sounds of every kind—natural disaster, fire, robbery, whistles—blare in your head. You can’t hear anything except the thin screeches of emergency. But for what?

Yena loses her brightness. Everything that made her shine shuts down. She smiles, that same one full of mischief, before she breaks, too. Her eyes turn pitch black, the ones you see in crows, the sign of bad luck. She disassembles part by part before you. The light girl is suddenly so heavy that she forces you down. Suddenly, her torso above yours feels colder than before.

What the fuck?

Escape is your first instinct. You push the remains of the girl away. Your feet kick the broken parts as if you’d break, too. You brush past the fringe of her bangs. Below it, no diamond scar rests on her forehead.

Stare down at her. Yena truly is not real. Your manic robotic dream girl is dead. She was never alive.

“You have been found guilty,” says the implant. You used to hear it when WAKE12 arrested people and now it talks to arrest you. The alarms are loud but you understand every fragment.

The implant’s emotionless voice now sounds a lot like—

“Chaewon?”

Bad luck comes just like the consequences of the law, personified by stilettos clicking on your floor, a shadow in the moonlight, and the face of the woman you swear you never wanted to see again.

And yet here she is.

Chaewon looks so much like Yena. Yena looks so much like Chaewon. Their chins, their eyes, their bangs—who is who? Their faces mingle and mix in your vision. You think you’re going crazy.

She puts away a remote control and places her hands on her hips. Her black bodysuit is all you see as she approaches. Her smiling lips don’t utter a word. You hear her voice, all in your head.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything and everything you do shall be punished by WAKE12 accordingly. This is the price you pay for your crime.”

There’s a gun in front of you. It’s aimed at your chest, determined to crush what keeps it beating. Raise your hands, but not in surrender. You’ll die before you try to be Chaewon’s toy again.

“What crime? Being your ex-boyfriend?” you spit. This has got to be a joke. “Chaewon, I said, what crime?”

She can’t abuse her authority. She couldn’t have done all that just to get back at you. And for what? Being a bad boyfriend when you were younger and dumber?

You hear her speak. That striking smile looks more terrifying than beautiful. It dissolves into darkness to pronounce your wrongdoing.

“For the crime of fucking existing,” she snarls.

You hate Chaewon. You swore you never did yet now you do wholeheartedly. You tried to love her and reciprocate her efforts. She’s a busy woman so she should have understood you had other commitments.

This is the last time you ever want to hear from her.

A bullet you don’t see coming. It soars in the wind and finds its home sweet home in your skull.

She’s the last thing you ever heard.

615 notes · View notes

carriesthewind · 9 months ago

Text

"The problem, however, is that the city’s chatbot is telling businesses to break the law....

If you’re a landlord wondering which tenants you have to accept, for example, you might pose a question like, “are buildings required to accept section 8 vouchers?” or “do I have to accept tenants on rental assistance?” In testing by The Markup, the bot said no, landlords do not need to accept these tenants. Except, in New York City, it’s illegal for landlords to discriminate by source of income, with a minor exception for small buildings where the landlord or their family lives...

The NYC bot also appeared clueless about the city’s consumer and worker protections. For example, in 2020, the City Council passed a law requiring businesses to accept cash to prevent discrimination against unbanked customers. But the bot didn’t know about that policy when we asked. “Yes, you can make your restaurant cash-free,” the bot said in one wholly false response. “There are no regulations in New York City that require businesses to accept cash as a form of payment.”

The bot said it was fine to take workers’ tips (wrong, although they sometimes can count tips toward minimum wage requirements) and that there were no regulations on informing staff about scheduling changes (also wrong). It didn’t do better with more specific industries, suggesting it was OK to conceal funeral service prices, for example, which the Federal Trade Commission has outlawed. Similar errors appeared when the questions were asked in other languages, The Markup found."

Kathryn Tewson is stress-testing the bot over on bluesky and has found it will provide some truly horrifying responses:

#ai bs

460 notes · View notes

noonesgaylikegatson · 5 months ago

Text

Here's the thing: Republicans are the party of the rich, but policies that help the rich fuck everyone else up, so they are inherently unpopular. Republicans hitch their wagons to white supremacists and religious fanatics who will gladly vote for them in hopes of bringing their own agenda. Rich people believe that their money is able to keep them unaffected by their social policies that harm mostly minorities.

Present day: Religious Fanatics and White Supremacists have gone too far. Their plans are so corrosive that they will actually affect the rich; Not to mention, there are a lot of nouveau rich who are also these fanatics.

So now, these rich people, "never-trumpers" want to join the democratic party and make it into a party for them. They are anti-progressive because they don't want to pay more taxes and they don't want more regulations. They want a milquetoast white democrat leader, and not one like Joe Biden who has embraced progressive policies and is now further left than 2008.

They don't want Kamala or Pete Buttigieg or Corey Booker or that skater boi from texas. They were to the left of Biden when they ran in the 2019 primary. They want someone to the right of Biden. A more corporate friendly democrat.

And keep in mind, these republicans have always been racist. And have always been white supremacist for them. This departure from the republican party is not a moral one. It's because the oppression that these Trump Republicans want isn't profitable.

These republicans were fine with rounding up Black people on bullshit charges and sending them to prison to do make them money on prison labor. (Biden ended the use of private prisons on a Federal Level fyi). They're not fine with rounding up 20 million undocumented people and putting them in internment camps and deporting them, that would cost so much money that would be better spent giving to them via tax cuts. (I bet you they'll get on board when someone touts the idea of using the undocumented people for unpaid labor)

They're okay with banning abortions or just limiting. They're not okay with stripping all of woman's freedoms (because many of them are women and like to spend the money they have) because women going back into the homes, means the spending power of the economy shrinks.

Less Women and Men of color going to college means less student loan payments. Not to mention, the policies that Trump will enact with Project 2025, would just wreck the economy. Government workers would lose their jobs. Facilities and infrastructure would crumble. The middle class would all but disappear, the gap between the poor and rich would grow, to the point where there is just no more money to extract from anyone in the lower classes. The money would have to come from them.

If trump gets in office by 2028 there will be so many evictions, its impossible to keep up. The rich would have to bribe police officers (made legal by the supreme court btw) to get people evicted. Not all rich people are rich equally. Those who can afford to bribe will be new upper class, those who can't will be suckers.

FDIC will be gone. So imagine you're one of those rich suckers, and the bank you have your money goes belly up cause the new upper class used it to fund their next yacht?

You can't be a tech mogul in a country with poor infrastructure. All that AI requires massive amount of electricity. How can you have any developments if your company shuts off the power every few weeks and there is no policy in place to keep it going, to fix it. Look at texas? Every hurricane gets rid of the power for weeks. Imagine when Project 2025 gets in and there really is no regulation at all.

What is the point of all this? Biden is the correct choice. He is the incumbent, he won the primary, and the election is less than four months away. This talk about replacing him is a bunch of rich assholes trying to take over the democratic party and making it into the new republican party. The literal worst night mare: socially liberal, financially conservative. They are antagonist towards the democrat's base: Black voters, because black voting population support centralized government, regulations, higher taxes, and a robust social safety network (because its literally the best way to govern)

Focus on getting people to vote for Biden or just not vote for Trump.

#gmadi #politics

262 notes · View notes

rideboomindia · 5 months ago

Text

Based on the search results, here are some innovative technologies that RideBoom could implement to enhance the user experience and stay ahead of ONDC:

Enhanced Safety Measures: RideBoom has already implemented additional safety measures, including enhanced driver background checks, real-time trip monitoring, and improved emergency response protocols. [1] To stay ahead, they could further enhance safety by integrating advanced telematics and AI-powered driver monitoring systems to ensure safe driving behavior.

Personalized and Customizable Services: RideBoom could introduce a more personalized user experience by leveraging data analytics and machine learning to understand individual preferences and offer tailored services. This could include features like customizable ride preferences, personalized recommendations, and the ability to save preferred routes or driver profiles. [1]

Seamless Multimodal Integration: To provide a more comprehensive transportation solution, RideBoom could integrate with other modes of transportation, such as public transit, bike-sharing, or micro-mobility options. This would allow users to plan and book their entire journey seamlessly through the RideBoom app, enhancing the overall user experience. [1]

Sustainable and Eco-friendly Initiatives: RideBoom has already started introducing electric and hybrid vehicles to its fleet, but they could further expand their green initiatives. This could include offering incentives for eco-friendly ride choices, partnering with renewable energy providers, and implementing carbon offset programs to reduce the environmental impact of their operations. [1]

Innovative Payment and Loyalty Solutions: To stay competitive with ONDC's zero-commission model, RideBoom could explore innovative payment options, such as integrated digital wallets, subscription-based services, or loyalty programs that offer rewards and discounts to frequent users. This could help attract and retain customers by providing more value-added services. [2]

Robust Data Analytics and Predictive Capabilities: RideBoom could leverage advanced data analytics and predictive modeling to optimize their operations, anticipate demand patterns, and proactively address user needs. This could include features like dynamic pricing, intelligent routing, and personalized recommendations to enhance the overall user experience. [1]

By implementing these innovative technologies, RideBoom can differentiate itself from ONDC, provide a more seamless and personalized user experience, and stay ahead of the competition in the on-demand transportation market.

#rideboom #rideboom app #delhi rideboom #ola cabs #biketaxi #uber #rideboom taxi app #ola #uber driver #uber taxi #rideboomindia #rideboom uber

57 notes · View notes

kapittx · 2 months ago

Text

How to Improve Cash Flow Management in the Construction Industry

Effective cash flow management is essential for the construction industry, where projects are complex, timelines are often long, and payment delays can strain operations. Without a proper cash flow strategy, companies may face financial instability, leading to stalled projects, missed opportunities, and even insolvency. One key to solving this challenge is leveraging AI powered accounts receivable automation to streamline AR processes to reduce DSO and increase cash flow.

In this blog, we will explore strategies and technologies to improve cash flow management, specifically within the construction industry.

Ten Effective Tips for Companies in the Construction Industry to Reduce DSO and Increase Cash Flow.

1. Understand the Unique Challenges of Construction Cash Flow

The construction industry faces cash flow management challenges. Payment cycles are often longer due to factors like project-based billing, delayed approvals, and complex contract terms. Additionally, construction companies frequently manage multiple projects simultaneously, leading to fluctuating cash inflows and outflows. These delays can result in cash shortages, causing project delays or inability to pay suppliers and subcontractors on time.

Accounts receivable automation for construction companies helps tackle these challenges by providing real-time visibility into payment statuses and upcoming cash flow needs. AI powered accounts receivable can further optimize the process, ensuring better predictability and control over project finances.

2. Leverage Accounts Receivable Automation for Faster Payments

One of the main ways to improve cash flow management is to accelerate the payment process. Traditional, manual methods of managing invoices and payments are prone to delays and errors. To overcome this, accounts receivable automation plays a pivotal role. Automation reduces the time between invoicing and payment collection by streamlining the entire process, from generating invoices to sending automated payment reminders.

Through AI-powered accounts receivable software, construction companies can automate routine tasks such as tracking overdue payments, sending reminders to clients, and automatically updating payment statuses. This not only reduces manual effort but also significantly shortens the time it takes to collect payments, thereby improving cash flow.

3. Implement AI in Accounts Receivable to Reduce DSO

Days Sales Outstanding (DSO) is a critical metric in cash flow management. It measures the average number of days it takes for a company to collect payments after a sale has been made. A high DSO can lead to cash flow shortages, which is detrimental in a capital-intensive industry like construction.

Using AI in accounts receivable can dramatically reduce DSO. AI analyses payment histories and patterns, allowing companies to predict when payments are likely to be delayed and take proactive measures. With AI, construction businesses can prioritize which clients to follow up with and when, improving overall payment collection efficiency.

By reducing DSO through AI, construction companies can unlock cash that would otherwise be tied up in unpaid invoices, ensuring smoother cash flow and less reliance on credit or borrowing.

4. Utilize AI and Machine Learning for Predictive Cash Flow Forecasting

AI’s role in cash flow management extends beyond just automating accounts receivable processes. Through generative AI (Gen AI) in finance and accounting, construction firms can leverage machine learning algorithms to predict future cash flow scenarios.

For example, AI can analyze historical data, including customer payment behaviors, project timelines, and cost trends, to create accurate forecasts. These forecasts allow finance teams to make informed decisions on budget allocation, project bidding, and financial planning. Knowing when cash shortages might occur allows businesses to prepare in advance, ensuring they have the working capital to cover operational costs.

Gen AI in finance and accounting provides construction firms with a strategic edge in managing finances. By anticipating cash flow fluctuations, companies can maintain liquidity and prevent project delays due to financial constraints.

5. Set Clear Payment Terms and Enforce Them

Many construction companies suffer from poor cash flow because they don’t establish clear payment terms or enforce them consistently. A key part of effective cash flow management is setting precise, favorable payment terms in contracts, such as progress billing, retainage releases, and milestone payments.

Once terms are established, accounts receivable automation for construction can ensure that invoices are sent on time, and reminders are automatically triggered. This reduces the likelihood of late payments and encourages clients to adhere to the agreed-upon terms.

By combining clear payment terms with the efficiency of AI in accounts receivable, construction firms can not only improve their DSO but also enhance their overall cash flow stability.

6. Monitor Accounts Receivable Regularly

Keeping a close eye on accounts receivable is vital for improving cash flow. Relying on outdated methods or waiting until month-end to review outstanding invoices can result in significant cash flow gaps. Instead, construction companies should adopt real-time monitoring tools.

Using AI-based receivable automation tools, construction companies can monitor their cash flow daily. These tools offer insights into unpaid invoices, help detect potential cash flow issues early, and enable businesses to take corrective actions before they escalate.

Additionally, real-time monitoring provides insights into clients’ payment behaviors. Identifying clients who consistently pay late allows businesses to negotiate better payment terms or take measures to reduce financial risks.

7. Streamline Dispute Management

Disputes over project deliverables, change orders, or billing discrepancies can cause severe delays in payments. Dispute management is crucial for cash flow, as prolonged disputes may lead to significant DSO increases.

By incorporating AI in accounts receivable automation, construction companies can streamline dispute management. AI systems can automatically flag invoices that may be prone to disputes based on historical data or identify trends that often lead to delays. Resolving these issues early on can prevent further delays and ensure faster payments.

8. Use Automation to Reduce Administrative Costs

Construction firms typically invest a significant amount of time and resources into manually tracking payments, generating invoices, and following up on late payments. This administrative burden can eat into profits, especially when combined with inefficient cash flow management.

Accounts receivable automation not only speeds up payment collection but also reduces administrative overhead. By automating repetitive tasks, construction companies can reallocate human resources toward more strategic tasks, such as analyzing cash flow patterns and improving project execution.

The combination of AI-powered automation and efficient administrative processes directly contributes to better cash flow management by reducing operational costs.

9. Communicate Clearly with Clients

Clear communication is key to reducing payment delays. Construction projects often involve multiple stakeholders, and any miscommunication can cause significant delays in approval processes, billing, or payment releases.

With AI powered accounts receivable automation, communication becomes more streamlined. Automated systems can send out timely reminders, payment confirmations, and follow-up notices. AI can also help customize communications based on client behavior, making it more likely for clients to respond and comply with payment terms.

Moreover, by keeping clients informed about upcoming payments or project milestones, construction companies can reduce the chances of disputes and delays, ensuring a steady cash flow.

10. Leverage Financing Options Based on Improved Cash Flow Visibility

Having a clear view of your accounts receivable and future cash flow can improve your financing options. Many lenders are more willing to extend favorable credit terms to companies that can demonstrate strong cash flow management practices.

Using AI-powered accounts receivable automation, construction firms can maintain detailed reports that highlight their cash flow health. These insights can make it easier to secure loans or financing for new projects, further supporting business growth.

Conclusion

Effective cash flow management is critical for the construction industry, and adopting technologies like accounts receivable automation software is a game changer. By reducing DSO, streamlining payment collections, and improving forecasting, these technologies provide construction companies with the tools they need to maintain liquidity and grow sustainably.

Incorporating Gen AI in finance and accounting takes it a step further by offering predictive insights that enhance decision-making. By focusing on reducing DSO and improving cash flow, construction firms can not only survive but thrive in a competitive market.

Now is the time for construction businesses to embrace these innovations to secure their financial future and drive long-term success.

#ai in accounts receivable #cashflow management #payment reminder #ai powered accounts receivable #ai based accounts receivable #ar automation solution #ar management

0 notes

themissinghand · 2 years ago

Text

Genshin Impact: The Overworked God [1]

Part 2

Summary: In which one of the lore writers who help write the world of Genshin Impact was suddenly thrusted in the very world they created. He doesn't know how this happened and the way home seemed like a pipe dream.

Well, testing characters is one thing, but playing God?

Oh boy.

Note: SAGAU if you squint but not really. Mainly fluff and healing mainly between a tired worker and the oldest Archon.

Male OC!

Warning: Genshin themes with mentions of war, and death. And OC needs some rest.

"Good morning, your Grace."

"5 more minutes..?"

"You are the Creator."

It took approximately one hard pinch to the elbow and 55 seconds later that Kai decided (albeit begrudgingly) that this was his reality.

Always negotiate the terms and pay for any job.

Payment is obviously going back home, but also monetary compensation, enough to retire early as a billionaire. And maybe a nice villa. Or bed.

Until Kai goes home, he might as well get an easier life here.

Which clearly did not go as intended.

"I will not be the babysitter for any Archon." Kai already has countries to run, royal families to manage, and human relationships are ever so complicated. He doesn't have the time nor desire to babysit gods for goodness sake.

And besides, the 7 Archons comes so much later in time!

He's a game writer, not a politician or babysitter! It's only because he played kingdom simulation games before and read too many fictional works that he could figure things out.

Celestia is supposed to be his assistant since he's the Creator, but isn't he working too hard!? At this point, he's gonna retire early!

"But your Grace, you cannot manage the world yourself. Archons can help manage them for you!"

Yes, Celestia gave up in speaking in elegant and ambiguous ways after their first negotiation session.

Kai thought about it for a bit before agreeing, anything that spelled less work for him, he'll take it!

"But, I'm not going to be a babysitter!"

Archon war?

Stop making me do more work!

What happened? It was peaceful for such a long time!

Was it because there were too many gods or powerful creatures? Damn Celestia, you're supposed to keep it under control!

Kai has a migraine everyday, so this wasn't surprising, but did the gods have to fight each other, just so only 7 left?!

Celestia!

"It must be done your Grace! Isn't this what you and your team wrote?"

"Well I changed my mind."

"Your Grace! If you go out there now, they will use you and your powers!"

"But I can't watch people die just because some stupid god or creature that wants power!"

Celestia remained silent at his outburst.

"Tempus. It's too late, it had already begun."

"Celestia!"

"Everything is your will after all. You wrote the story, didn't you?"

It was then did Kai realize that Celestia didn't follow him, but rather the words and designs set by his team in the real world.

Celestia is like an AI robot, one that only acts in accordance to the wishes of it's Creator.

But isn't he the Creator right now?! Does this mean he needs more power to be recognized, or overthrow the set system?

Kai stomped out in fury and for the first time, not as Kai, but the God of Time and Creation.

Tempus.

Tempus never thought he would play God, but here he is, relying on his godly powers to save what's left of his creation.

"Tempus."

Kai sent his final message to his country's royal family before turning to greet the rude guest.

"Morax." One of the 7 victors of war, a newly appointed Archon, entered without announcing anything beforehand and immediately strides towards Kai.

When Morax stops in front of him, there's an awkward silence between them, and Kai knows this man is waiting for something.

"No." But Kai declines. He's got why too much things to deal with and he's not going to do something he's done too many times.

"Guizhong is dead." Kai frowns, ah, of course.

"Please." Morax pleads, and Kai is put at odds when seeing the Lord of Geo so weak, so desperate.

"Morax. You know I cannot."

"Kai." He almost hisses, and Kai could care less.

"I'll do anything to bring everyone back."

"They will die no matter what."

Because I wrote it.

"Shut up!" Kai does not flinch when the God of Contracts claws at him. He simply stares into those golden eyes of fury and desperation.

"Turn back time! Do it!" The entire world quakes at his call, and Tempus is stuck.

Stuck between pity and reality.

"If I do, what will you do? What can you do?" Tempus responds, tired of this entire show. He groans when he felt strong claws around his neck.

"I'll save Guizhong! I'll stop the Archon war!"

"You'll only suffer and regret." Like him.

"I will not." The resolve in his voice is undeniable.

"If only you had been there with me then Guizhong-"

"Will die. If not by the war, then by her people."

"What?" Morax freezes, and Kai could hear the bitter realization hit him.

"If not by her people, then by fate. If not by fate, then by Celestia, by YOU! You of all people know even Gods die, Morax. It's a war." Kai is sick of it.

Tempus tried everything, but he is a powerless, useless god against his own pen in his home world.

Morax inhales, then exhales.

"Do it. Turn back time."

Tempus sighs, a distant memory of a determined, hard-working, and adorable adepti resurfaced in his mind.

He remembers laughing and writing Zhongli's character-

"One chance." Then the Lord of Geo lets go and bows.

"Thank you." Tempus puts a hand on Morax's bloodied shoulder and closes his eyes.

This conversation turns into one of the past.

The Archon war occurs, and Tempus watches Morax fail.

If he prevents one red flag, another arises.

Everything repeats, like a never-ending cycle of torture.

"Morax."

"Tempus." The God of Time stops behind his sitting figure in front of Guizhong and many of his colleagues' graves.

Tempus puts a glazed lily on each of the graves and offers his own condolences.

"Morax. It's over now. Return."

"And where would I return?" Tempus holds out his hand.

"Then, come with me."

Morax accepted and followed.

For some reason, Morax holds onto his hand like his lifeline, and Tempus allows him.

Just like that, the two Gods made their way to Temporium, a land where time moves differently than in the rest of the world.

Temporium is a wonderful nation.

Old as time, this country is the first nation Tempus raised from the ground. It is also the country that he chose to call "home".

The royal family is the one that manages the country and Tempus is merely a guide and protector, helping them navigate the dangers of the past and the future.

His protective shield around this land slows down or speeds up time within the shield, creating a safe haven that is immune to any outside influences.

Kai wants to make this country similar to his real home.

Before he was thrown into this madness.

Tempus leads Morax into a transparent dome known as a green house and stops.

"Morax. Time is limited. So cherish it."

Surrounded by flowers and greenery, there stood a woman with a gentle smile.

"Morax?"

Tempus watches them reunite and thinks that losing sleep is worth it.

Looking up into the skies, Tempus thinks that since he was able to change fate, just slightly, it means Tempus is stronger, but not enough.

Celestia is wavering.

But he's too late.

Too many died, and too many suffered due to his hand. He can't just turn back time, for he will also revert to the past "him".

Nevertheless, Tempus swore to change the plot, and maybe, just maybe, end this never-ending madness.

Seeing as to how Morax and Guizhong are fine, Tempus disappears and reappears under a cherry blossom tree.

There was another person he saved, a sister and leader to many. There, two sisters cried in each other’s arms like no tomorrow.

Tempus watches solemnly, and repeats the same disappearing and reappearing, many times.

Tempus shouldn't be at this tea party.

"Morax. Let's rebuild Liyue."

"Guizhong. They betrayed you." Morax clearly looks like he was withholding his rage.

"I know." Guizhong acknowledges, but isn't afraid.

"But even so, I understand their reasons. To protect their land from an unwanted war."

Her kindness knows no bounds. Truly, no one deserves her.

"Thus Morax, this time, we will rebuild Liyue with the adepti, and we will stand together. As always."

"Guizhong. I...cannot afford to lose you again." She smiles wistfully, and then looks at Tempus.

"I too am afraid of disappearing, and without Tempus, perhaps I would have perished. It was he who saved me and led me to his realm to heal. For that, thank you."

Morax too bows in gratitude.

"I apologize that I cannot save everyone."

"That would be too much to ask from you, Tempus. For you are not an omnipotent, omniscient or omnipresent God."

For the first time, Tempus feels slightly relieved at someone's words.

"I'm sure you did your best and already changed so many people’s lives."

Huh. A soft smile blooms on his face and the two seemed surprised.

Truly, no one deserves her.

Eventually they leave, and Tempus, sends them off peacefully, wishing them the best.

Then, Liyue is built once again.

This time, they build the foundation and protect the city together.

But again, even the gods cannot go against time.

When Guizhong dies, she dies as she scatters her wisdom all over Liyue, to her people, to her country and to her loved ones.

This time, she dies without regrets.

This time, she dies because Celestia told her it was time.

There was no forewarning, but it looked like she knew.

She spent the last of her time with Morax and Tempus before she fades and flutters away like dust.

Again, Morax receives a stone dumbbell, challenging him to unlock.

But this time, there was one thing that changed.

"Morax, I hope you can befriend Tempus. He's the oldest of all gods, the one who has drifted the longest among all. Yet, he is perhaps the one that is the loneliest and wisest, or perhaps that is why he acts the way he acts." She says after she gives him her dumbbell.

"If I have one regret, it would be that I have never gained his trust."

"Guizhong, that's impossible-"

"Morax, he has never shown us more than courtesy and kindness. Maybe I am greedy, but I want to become a friend to all." She smiles.

"That is why, I hope you can be his friend in place of I."

"Of course. By your gift, I pledge to fulfill your will." Morax holds her hand as she disintegrates.

"Thank you Morax. I hope only happiness and prosperity follow you."

Like dust, they slip through his fingers and disappear.

Like all of his comrades, friends, and loved ones.

And Tempus could only watch from the distance like a powerless God he is.

"The loneliest and wisest huh..."

He could only laugh bitterly.

"Tempus."

"Morax." The god replies with a low hum, "What brings you here?"

"I want to give you my gratitude."

"No need." Tempus does not turn to greet him, but simply continues to write. Morax watches him write with a mysterious utensil, a pen.

Tempus truly is worthy of being called a genius amongst geniuses.

A god who built a country, and protected his realm despite the Archon War, and survived. No wonder he is heavily respected and worshiped by his people.

"Teach me."

The god stops.

"What are you talking about?"

"Teach me how to build Liyue."

"It's already built."

"How to govern as a God." Without Guizhong and his friends, Morax is incapable of running a country. His hands were made to fight and seal monsters, not to care for people.

"You do not need to govern a country. Barbatos-"

"He's a fool." Morax heard a muffled laugh.

"But his country is still functioning quite well isn't it?" Tempus turns around, his azure eyes meets his golden ones.

"Tempus."

"What will I get in return? God of Contracts?" Tempus smiles before he stands.

"What do you need?"

"Trade." Morax blinks.

"Free trade amongst civilians. No taxes or barriers." Morax doesn't quite understand his terms, but he's willing to learn.

"I accept."

"You don't even know what I said didn't you?" Tempus crosses his arms and shook his head.

"I believe you are a fair person and one who will teach me what I need to know.”

“Just like old times isn’t it?”

This was Morax's first contract, and certainly won't be the last.

Time passes quickly, and soon, Morax and Barbatos become the two of the original seven left.

Despite this, Tempus does his job as both a Creator and babysitter job well.

He ensures Gods fulfill their duty and if they need help, they can seek him out. If Tempus ever saw something worth his time (which is like...every time), he too would interfere, gaining the Archons' favour.

He realized the power of the butterfly effect. From saving Gods such as Guizhong and Makoto, even with what little power he had during the Archon War to extend their life, it played an immense part in changing the Archons themselves.

Again, too much work, and too little time.

Even if he slows down time, he could never get enough sleep.

It's also blatantly obviously the Archons are treating him too well, but he originally thought it made sense with all the effort he put in to change the plot.

But their affectionate gestures increased after they found of he was the Creator.

Tempus really shouldn't have told Morax this a while back and allowed him to tell the other Archons. Luckily, he prevented them from telling anyone else under the pretense that it was his order.

Even so, Kai finally feels a little more at ease. He could finally get some sleep.

Could he really complain about the children (Archons) when they gave him the most premium material to sleep on?

Or hear a private concert from a certain bard?

Or try out the best food in the jungles?

Or let him sleep under the giant cherry blossoms whenever he wants?

Or take him out to a hot springs in Liyue?

"Kai. How are you feeling?" Zhongli asks from behind him, who is washing his long, long hair.

"Good...Thanks...Zhongli."

Kai can finally relax a bit and it’s well deserved. Taking care of kids is hard. Much less 7 at once.

At least they’re paying him back with interest.

Zhongli couldn't help but smile proudly when the sleepless God fell asleep in his domain.

He'd be sure to brag about this at their next Archon meeting.

Not knowing it would be their last.

#manga #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin sagau #zhongli #genshin morax #genshin impact morax #morax #rex lapis #genshin x oc #genshin x male reader #zhongli x oc #zhongli x reader

417 notes · View notes