Well I was about to get excited and tell people about another new item that Hot Topic is again for some reason releasing for Steven Universe in the year 2025 but I got distracted by how irritated I am about the presentation.
This new star ringer baby tee comes in straight sizes and plus sizes (for uh five bucks more). Anyone who's ever tried to buy plus sizes is used to seeing the fat tax, and I get that some people offer explanations like "they need more material tho" and "they're not as in demand." Whatever, I'm not a marketer. But I do wanna know why Hot Topic is now doing the Headless Fatty thing.
Look at the difference in how these products are presented.
Straight-size model gets several cute shots with their face as part of the presentation. Plus-size model has their face cut off in ALL shots. (And I checked--if you blow these up, you still can't see a full shot of this person.)
One thing you'll learn if you ever check out how heavier people are presented in news stories (usually with alarming voice-over about the obesity epidemic) is that when they film fat people, they cut off their heads and just show their body. It's pretty dehumanizing and weird.
I'd love if the product photos on Hot Topic's site could do a better and more consistent job of showing what plus-size clothing they have in a way that's similar to how they present their straight-size clothing. Especially since there are many, MANY people who need the plus sizes that I know in these fan communities and would probably love to give Hot Topic their money if they stock the right sizes. I've been so delighted to keep seeing new designs and things for Steven Universe coming out from Hot Topic and it just really a let-down when I see stuff like this.
(And though I know I don't know this model's story and do not in fact know whether they asked to be anonymized, it's generally unlikely most of the time that someone who is a MODEL doesn't want their photo out there, and the "headless fatty" phenomenon is a thing regardless of whether an individual example fits the typical profile.)
STOOD UP – dangerous!michael x fem!reader (4.4k wc)
⋆ synopsis: after michael has missed yet another one of your dates, he returns home expecting you to push him away not crave to touch him
⋆ contents: nsfw, edging, praise kink, spitting, handjob, blowjob, sub!michael, dom!reader, begging, crying, nicknames (mama,baby,angel),
⋆ note: my first full fic req!! thanku @michaeltrapson156 for the req. ik u req black!reader but i am not black. however. i did make sure that this fic fits all readers. coz its not an x reader if it cant fit everyone reading it!!
The restaurant was perfect. The lights were dim, fragrant candles flickering as the cool night breeze blew from the open windows. Every table was draped in dark red cloth, polished silverware glimmered beneath the glow of the crystal chandeliers. In the centre of each table was a sparkling crystal vase filled to the brim with fresh red roses, their sweet scent lingering in the air around you.
Every detail had been meticulously and precisely planned.
Michael had marked the evening off in his schedule weeks in advance. He had rented out the entire restaurant to ensure that the two of you could have a quiet dinner away from flashing cameras and curious eyes. He had even surprised you with the very dress you were wearing, insisting that the only thing you had to worry about was showing up.
The only thing missing was…
Him.
But the alarm bells should have rung sooner. They should have been blaring when the black limousine pulled into the driveway without Michael inside.
Your heels clicked against the pavement as you approached the open door, glancing down not once but twice.
Empty.
Your shoulders stiffened, fingers curling tightly around your purse. “Where’s Michael?”
The tall man dropped his gaze before giving you an apologetic smile. “Mr Jackson will meet you at the restaurant.”
You gave him a quiet and polite nod, crouching down to slide into the car despite every instinct inside screaming at you that something was wrong.
Michael had made a habit of missing dates.
The first date he got caught up in a meeting and arrived 30 minutes late holding a comically large bouquet.
The second his rehearsals had run incredibly behind.
The third he had called you and hour before the date, apologetically rambling about how he has to have an urgent meeting with his lawyers about the tour and that he would have to pick you up three hours later than planned.
And the fourth?
He never showed.
And each time you forgave him. You knew his schedule was demanding, you knew that he was constantly meant to be in two places at once.
But tonight was different.
Tonight was a promise.
Every second that passed while you sat alone the humiliation you felt grew bigger.
You told yourself he’d just be a couple more minutes.
Fifteen minutes became thirty. Thirty became forty-five.
And suddenly you had been sitting alone, in this awfully ambient restaurant for an hour.
The waiters tried not to stare but every time you caught their gaze they gave you a pitiful tight-lipped smile.
Slowly, you got up. Your purse gripped in your manicured hands, the sparkly red colour you got just for Michael catching your eye.
You had to look away.
The hostess quietly asked if you wanted to reschedule but you shook your head, cheeks heating up with humiliation. “No.” you squeaked out, voice wavering. “It’s alright.”
But it wasn’t.
You weren’t quite sure how long you’d been sitting on the couch. You barely remembered unlocking your front door.
The sharp ring of the landline echoed across the house. There was no doubt in your mind it was Michael. You could already hear his excuses.
A shaky laugh escaped your lips as your mind processed the situation, then it dissolved into a quiet sob.
You tilted your head back, blinking furiously against the stinging tears that threatened to spill.
The last thing you wanted to do was cry.
You didn’t want him to have to pick up the pieces he had broken.
You just wanted him.
Michael kept telling his driver to go faster. His foot restlessly bouncing against the car floor.
His thoughts were a mess. Dread and guilt bubbling up inside of him so viciously he had to crack the window to ease the growing nausea in his stomach.
He’d messed up.
He’d messed up so bad.
He knew what tonight was.
Tonight was a promise. A commitment to you. A night to dedicate to your relationship. To declare that no matter how busy and chaotic his life was, it would never stop him from being with you.
But it was exactly the opposite.
He expected anger.
He expected rage.
He expected you to be standing at home, makeup a mess from the tears he’d made you cry, waiting to shout and scream at him for messing up once again.
And he knew he deserved it.
So, by the time he had unlocked the front door, he was prepared for the worst.
“Baby?” he called out, his soft, shaky voice echoing against the walls of the foyer.
No reply.
“Baby? Are you here?” He called out again, walking through the large ornate room.
He felt like he was trespassing in his own home, he didn’t think he deserved to be in the same room with you. Not after the utter betrayal he had pulled today.
As he stepped towards the living room his eyes caught you immediately. Curled up on the couch, still in your new dress, heels abandoned and kicked across the floor.
His brows furrowed, he felt his face physically drop at the sight of his beautiful girl so upset. He parted his mouth slightly as if he were to say something, but a broken gasp of air replaced the words on his tongue.
He looked down at himself, his shirt wrinkled, his shoes scuffed, his tie pulled loose.
He didn’t look like the man he wanted to be.
No.
He looked like what he knew he was.
A disappointment.
A sharp gust of air was inhaled into Michael’s lungs, a preparatory task for the speech he was about to give.
He had rehearsed it over and over. Thinking of any way to apologize without making yet another empty promise.
But before Michael could get a word out, you stood.
For a split-second Michael braced himself, expecting to face your wrath.
But your arms wrapped around him, pulling his thin frame close to yours.
His arms felt heavy, stiff and still as you squeezed him.
He had ran through every possible scenario in his mind. He had prepared himself for you to scream, to cry, to curse at him or even break up with him. But the possibility of you actually wanting to be near him?
He hadn’t expected that at all.
He was hesitant to move; he didn’t want to ruin this. Not when just moments before he was convinced, you’d cast him away. His large hands cautiously moved, hovering just above your waist.
“Angel…I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of him before he had the chance to wrap his arms around you.
“I got caught up at rehearsal and then I had to meet with the tour manager, and I- I should’ve been watching the time. I should’ve left earlier, I should’ve called.”
“I-I should’ve been with you.”
Michael rambled in your ear, you could hear the anxiousness in his voice, the subtle tremble in his tone, the way he kept stumbling and stuttering over his thoughts barely taking a breath before rushing into the next apology.
His arms wrapped tightly around you, pressing you even closer than before, as if you’d slip away if he loosened his hold.
You cut him off as you pressed your face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling close to him. You breathed in the strong scent of his cologne, the familiar scent filling your nostrils as your hands slowly ran up and down his back.
Your lips lightly brushed against his skin as you whispered. “It’s late Michael.”
Michael’s expression fell, throat tightening as he swallowed hard. “I know” he murmured “I know, baby. I’m sorry- I just…” His voice gave out, cracking as his head rested on top of yours. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
You didn’t respond immediately, slowly letting your hands travel up and down his spine. Long fingernails running down his linen shirt, the sensation creating goosebumps along his skin.
You didn’t want to fight.
You couldn’t have been bothered
You just wanted him.
You wanted to feel him.
“Can we go to bed.”
Michael faltered for a moment, blinking a couple times.
“Y-yeah.” he answered quickly, acting with an urgency to not break the somewhat peaceful essence you were exuding. “Of course, baby.”
A long slender finger lingered just below your chin, softly he tilted your face towards him. Your glassy eyes met his and you could see the concern and worry swimming in his brown doe eyes. “Are you sure you’re alright, angel?”
You gave him a small nod. “Just…” you broke eye contact with him, pupils flickering down to look at the hardwood floors under you. “I just want to feel you.”
Michael softened instantly, his entire demeanour losing that anxious edge he had carried with him since he opened the door. “Oh angel…” he whispered it so quiet, his thumb softly brushing across the soft line of your jaw. “I’m here…”
When you both reached the bedroom, it was basked in the warm glow from the small lamp on your bed-side table. Your duvet pink and plush was draped over the soft mattress.
Michael sat on the bed first, it dipping slightly as he settled against the headboard. His eyes gazed up at you, hands reaching out to beckon you close to him. “C’mere mama…”
You were slow getting onto the bed, the tight fabric of your dress restricting your legs movement. Your hands slide forward, positioning yourself next to Michael.
You laid on your stomach, one hand holding up your head and the other resting on your thigh. The room was quiet, the soft crickets outside being the only noise infiltrating your shared space.
Slowly, your hand travelled up and down his thighs, you felt the seams of his trousers under your fingertips. “I wish you were there.” You whispered fingers dancing further up his leg.
Michael sighed, his eyes fluttering. He was always so reactive to you. “I know. I should’ve been there.”
“Yeah…” your said in a hushed tone, using the pointed end of your finger nail to trail the inside of his thigh. “I just miss you.”
Michael’s lips jutted out slightly into a subtle pout, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I miss you too baby.” His large hand reached towards you, his thick fingers cupping your cheek. “I thought you wanted to cuddle.”
Your shoulders lifted. “Hm.”
A faint smile appeared on Michael’s face “Hm what baby?”
“Wanna feel you.” You murmured, nuzzling your face into his cheek. “Wanna touch you.”
Michael’s lips parted, a small gasp of air escaping him. His eyes softening. He thought you’d be pushing him away, forcing him out of the room by now, berating him about how utterly careless and unkind he had been with your heart.
You craving him was the last thing he expected.
“You sure baby? You don’t want space…or anything?” Michael had to stifle a gasp as he felt your delicate hands begin to slowly unbutton his trousers, a glimmer of light reflecting off the gold button.
“You gave me plenty at the restaurant.” You reply was the snappiest thing you’d uttered to him today. “Just want to see you.”
Your hands pulled down the waistband of his trousers, impatiently tugging on the fabric, a silent signal for Michael to lift his hips up.
“Y-yeah whatever you need angel.”
You pulled his trousers down until they pooled around his ankles, leaving just his boxers. He was already growing at your soft touches, his cock subtly twitching.
“Take it off.” You demanded tugging on his red button up. Michael was quick to oblige, his warm palm abandoning your cheek to quickly rip apart his shirt.
He acted with urgency. He didn’t want to disappoint you further tonight.
As his thick fingers fumbled with the small buttons your hand was roaming over the growing bulge under his briefs. You slid your palm up and down, feeling the heat of him twitch underneath the soft cotton.
“So hard for me.” you whispered softly, a small smile gracing your lips. Michael’s hips twitched in response, chasing even more friction.
“M-Missed you.” He managed to get out with a rasp.
Ever so softly your hand breached the waistband of his boxers, about to tug them down.
Then a large hand enclasped around your wrist. “Angel…” He said gently. “Let me…Let me make you feel good.”
You hummed for a moment, pondering his proposal, fingertips playing with the stretched elastic.
“But I want to.” You pouted, beginning to tug the elastic desperately.
“You sure?” He mumbled out, having to suppress the urge to buck back into your palm. “I wanna make it up to you baby.”
Your eyes flicked up at him, looking through your long lashes. “Then listen.” Michael immediately noticed your tone. Your voice was heavier, drowning in desire.
He felt his throat dry, his head frantically nodding. “I will.” His hand released your wrist, giving you the reigns to do whatever you pleased. “I will…I promise.”
A hum of satisfaction left your lips. “Good.”
You had tugged his briefs to pool around his ankles with his trousers. His cock sprang free, slapping up against his stomach. It was already leaking, an obvious sign to how desperate he was. “Oh baby.” You cooed, seeing the way his length twitched, aching to be touched.
“Been so long.” He heaved out, restraining himself from pulling you closer to him. “So…so…long.”
“Mhm.” You hummed softly, your hand slowly wrapping around his aching tip. “Whose fault is that?”
“M-Mine.” He whimpered out, a soft mewl escaping him as your thumb gentle grazed the split making him whine. “I-It’s my fault.”
“It is isn’t?” Your hands slowly started to glide down his length. He was so heavy, the familiar weight of him in your hand making heat pool in your core.
As your hand started to move Michael began to get more vocal. His plump lips forming an ‘o’, thin brows knitted up as he tried so desperately to stifle his breathy moans but he was hopeless.
“Y-Yes it’s mine…ngh” Michael’s hand reached down to hold your cheek again but you moved away.
“Uh uh.” You tutted at him. “Did I say you could touch?”
Michael whined, his hands begrudgingly moving to grab onto the duvet. “No you didn’t” he squeaked out.
Your hands were moving slowly, dragging out each and every pump. Slowly sliding from the top, making sure to softly squeeze his sensitive tip then slowly running down until you reach the base of him, pausing for just a moment before sliding back up to continue the agonizing loop.
Michael’s breath was ragged, mewls and whimpers spilling out fast and unrestrained. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips forward, aching for more. “Mama…P-please- a little faster.”
Your hand halted, slowly sitting up to be level with his eyes. You heard the gulp of Michael’s throat as your eyes squinted slightly. “Faster?”
Your tone was cold, your breath hitting Michael’s cheek as he batted his eyes away from you. Unable to match your fiery gaze.
“Please.” He squeaked out, his hips bucking against your stationary hand, badly aching for your touch.
“Do you think you deserve it baby?” you pried leaning so close that your lips brushed against his.
He was lost in you. He couldn’t help but try to capture his lips in yours. “N-no.”
“Exactly.” You replied sharply. “Let’s not make anymore demands. Do you understand?”
“Y-Yes baby.”
You nodded satisfied, your free hand coming up to rest just below his chin. His doe eyes looked at you confused, unsure of what to make of your action.
“Spit.” You commanded, shoving your open palm closer to his lips. Michael paused for a second, his eyes flicking between your eyes and your hand. He obliged though, spitting into your palm, his lips coated with his own saliva. “Good boy.”
He mewled at that, cock twitching in your hand at the direct praise.
Your hand left his lips and met your other hand at the base of his cock, slowly twisting to coat his hardness in his own spit. It was so dirty, so nasty, the simple act of you commanding him making it feel like he could erupt at any moment.
Despite the fuss you made about his request, you did begin to go fast, the dual sensation of both of your hands on him had him mumbling and moaning for you. His chest heaved, the knot in his stomach tightening.
“F-Feels so g-good baby.” He whimpered, brows tight, eyes squeezed shut, sucking on his lip to make a hopeless attempt to stifle the pathetic moans that escaped him. “Oh baby- baby…shit. Please…ngh d-don’t stop.”
Your lips curled up into a smile, seeing him writhing just by your hands made something deep inside you coil up. You felt your own heat starting to beat, arousal coating your new lingerie.
“Look at me.” You whispered to him, your voice was so soft in his ear, but your tone was stern. Michael shuddered as your breath brushed past his flushed cheeks, his eyes met yours, tears brimming, glazed over with utter desperation. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Use your words baby.”
A loud whine escaped him as your thumb teased his tip, the constantly sensation of you touching his most sensitive area making it so hard to get anything out without crying. “Oh- Oh baby…I can’t think- can’t think straight. Wanna touch you…wanna be inside that sweet pussy- oh baby.” He threw his head back a loud cry erupting out of his throat. “You make me feel so good baby- I’ll be so good …mm I promise! ‘m gonna come baby- you’re making me feel so g-good. f-fuck just like that mama, your hands feel so good…’m gonna cum baby.”
“You’re gonna come for me hm?” you mewled, keeping the same pace, stroking, twisting and teasing.
“Yes! Y-Yes mama ‘m gonna come for y-you.” He was so close, his breathing was rapid, his toes curled into the mattress. That warm coil deep in his core was so close to releasing, everything ached, but it ached so good.
His hips bucked up chasing his orgasm, hair sticking to his face. “P-Please I- oh baby!” You looked at him, his tip was so red and desperate. Pulsing with need, slowly leaking begging to explode.
Your eyes glazed over with a new darkness, a devious thought creeping its way into your mind.
Michael let out a strangled groan, a string of pleases and whimpers as his hips began to stutter.
Then you took your hands off him.
Michael let out a heartbroken noise, a whine so loud. “N-No baby n-no why’d you stop.” His hips twitched trying to find the warmth of your hands once again but all he got in return was the cold air.
You settled back on the bed sitting on your heels, looking at the mess you’d made out of him, his skin was clammy and beaded with sweat. His hair stuck to his lips, cock twitching pathetically, the tip throbbing in pain. “You don’t deserve to come.”
Michael’s lips suddenly sucked in and then jutted out, a broken noise escaping.
Did he just cry?
“I- I’m s-sorry mama- please…please I’ll be good. I’ll do anything you want baby please.” He moved suddenly, the sheets rustling under him as he crawled closer to you.“I’ll do it baby…anything. I’ll be good, I swear. Anything you ask…I’ll make you feel so good, I’ll lick you for hours, I can do whatever you need- just baby please don’t stop touching me. It hurt so b-bad…I’m aching, I’m losing my mind here baby please I can’t take this.” His hands found your waist as he sat on his knees, tugging you close, anything he could possibly do to get your delicate hands back on his aching cock he’d do.
“You left me in that restaurant alone for over an hour Michael.” You gazed at him meeting his pleading eyes. “Do you know how humiliating that is?”
Michael felt that familiar guilty feeling punch him right in the gut. He should’ve known you wouldn’t let him off so easy.
And he knew he didn’t deserve to get off easy either.
“I know- I know baby ‘m so sorry.” Suddenly he felt extremely vulnerable. He was fully bare in front of you, his cock still standing tall and aching as he hung his head with shame. “I shouldn’t have- I should’ve been there.”
“And I got all beautiful for you…” Your finger pressed against his bare chest, the stiletto shape of your nail leaving an indent on his skin. “Took me like an hour just to do my makeup.”
Michael was quick to grab your hand, enclosing his large, warm palm around yours. His hands felt weak, but he still pulled it up to his wet lips, leaving a soft kiss against your knuckles. “You look so beautiful angel…My pretty girl- ‘m so so sorry.”
You didn’t shy away from his touch in fact, you leaned into it. “You still don’t deserve to come.”
Michael left out a little huff. “Yeah…I know.” He pulls you closer, so that your knees brush against his. “I meant it though.”
“Meant what?” you whispered.
“I’ll do anything.” That same desperate look was back, he sucked his lip biting it softly. “I mean it mama.”
Your eyes flicked up, the slightest grin appearing. “I‘m still mad at you.”
“Then be mean to me baby. Whatever you need.”
Michael had tested your patience for weeks. It was time for you to test his.
He wasn’t sure how long it had been, he could barely think any more. Not while you were laying in between his thighs, hands squeezing the base of his aching cock, your tongue softly flicking over his tip.
“Baby please- please I can’t” he pleaded his muscular thighs squeezing trying to push himself closer to his climax. “Fuck- baby please.” He wasn’t sure what he was begging for any longer. He wasn’t sure if he wanted mercy or his climax more.
You pouted wiping your moist lips over his throbbing tip. “But you said you’d do anything.” Michael let out a high-pitched cry, his thighs clenching so hard they squeezed your sides. “This is part of it.”
You sped up your strokes just enough to send his hips thrusting towards you. His hand flew to his mouth, biting on the knuckle of his pointer finger trying to stifle the ragged cry that threatened to spill out of his swollen lips.
Once again, he was so close, just on the precipice of finally releasing but his fate was held in the soft delicate hands that worked up and down his shaft.
“God look at you.” You crooned, not stopping the relentless pace you’d set. “So sensitive for me aren’t you baby?”
He nodded frantically, eyes squeezing tightly as a salty tear escaped from the corner of his eye. “I- I can’t take it mama…I can’t take it any longer.”
“Then tell me to stop.” You challenged him, hands beginning to slow.
“N-No” He cried out. He wanted this. He wanted to prove to you that for once he could follow through with his word. And if that meant being broken apart until he was nothing but a mumbling mess. Then he’d do it.
“Exactly.” You smiled up at him. “You like this don’t you baby? You like being a good boy for me don’t you?”
Michael’s cock throbbed when you called him that. Of course he liked it. He was an utter mess, and he didn’t want it stop. He just wanted to break, as long as you would still be there to pick up the pieces.
The room was muggy, air thick with the scent of him. He was whining loudly, legs shaking. You could feel the desperation buzzing off of him. You’d kept him suspended in this agonizing balance between pain and pleasure for long enough. You had him exactly how you wanted him.
“Do you want to come?” You cooed softly, your pace beginning to quicken once again.
Michael’s response was immediate. “Yes! I need to so bad.”
“Need to what baby?”
Michael whined as your hands continued to pump him without any mercy, chest heaving. “Need to come. I need it s-so bad mama.”
Your eyes looked up at him once again to admire the state of dishevelment he was in. “Come for me baby.”
The command hit Michael with force, and he shattered in your hands. His hips snapped forward, an unrestrained cry ripping from his throat as he lost all control. Your hands didn’t stop, continuing their relentless assault as he released all over you. The stickiness dribbled down your fingers, entangling you in a sticky mess that smeared over his cock leaving Michael to shudder and sob.
His head was thrown back, neck veins prominent and throbbing as he was completely devoured by the force of his orgasm. His body was reacting completely to your will, still twitching and jerking at every miniscule movement you made against his sensitive cock.
He slumped back against the headboard, body laying limp as he began to recover from the overwhelming release you had given him. “B-Baby.” He whimpered out one hand weakly stretching out to pull you against his chest.
You looked down at your hands wiping them against his quivering thighs. “Look at you.” You whispered softly. “Did so good f’me Mikey.”
Michael’s lips softly twitched into a smile. You hadn’t called him that all night. The familiar nickname settling between you comfortably.
“I’m sorry mama…d-didn’t mean to make such a mess.” He whispered out. His heart swelled as you begun to shuffle, laying on top of his chest. His long arms wrapped tightly around, squeezing you close.
“Shh…” you hushed him, leaving a soft peck on his collar bone. “It’s okay.”
“I won’t miss a date again baby I promise- I’ll never make you feel like that again. I won’t ever stand you up again. I promise.” The sincere apology tumbled out of his mouth, his neck craning down to leave a soft kiss against your hair.
“I know Mikey…I know.” Your lips trailed up his neck until they met his lips. He melted into the softness of your lips, cradling your cheek to bring you closer.
“I love you so much angel.” He whispered, voice croaky and tired. He held you close, fingers tracing the planes of your face. “so so much…don’t wanna be without you.”
You relaxed into him, melting into the comfort his embrace gave you. “ ‘m not going anywhere without you. I love you.”
authors note: hii!! thanku sm for readingggg this was my first ever smut fic AHHH im so nervous posting this and hopefully it's good. leave a comment or a reblog with any feedback and my reqs are open if u have any ideas!! okay byeeee ilyy
idk if i have the right language to make this observation, but... i've noticed a lot of silicon valley types have adopted a view of life, humanity, and living that is based in disgust. you see it in the way they talk about death, about eating, about their own bodies.
a human body has needs, quirks, tics, gets hungry, gets scratched, gets old, yawns, sneezes, bleeds. when this happens to them, guys like bryan johnson and peter theil react with loathing. it would be better, they say, to replace it with a machine, which could be made perfect and clean. immortal and rational. free from physical sensations.
look at any interview with bryan johnson where he discusses his pathetic, hubristic pipe dream "don't die." (or the work of his post-lesswrong sycophants). his philosophy is germaphobia, extended to all living things
this manifests as a gerenal disdain for humanity. universal germaphobia becomes universal ableism. if we're all flawed, imperfect, sweaty meat bags, then you'd be insane to trust the unwashed masses with any real power. the only rational people are the visionary tech CEOs who can see humanity for what it is. they will lead us out of sin and depravity and our own shit into a white and chrome future, where no one has to die and no one has to feel.
i think this is the root of the obsession with creating artificial superintelligence. like peptide-induced immortality, it's a fantasy technology with no grounding in any real science. but if you take that disgust for human life, and mix it with silicon valley's toxic positivity and startup culture, you get... faith. the only way these guys can live with themselves is to take it on faith that one day, they will be able to build a god, and that god will build them a heaven, and they won't have to eat or drink or piss or age or itch or smile ever again
any other political or material goals are nothing to them, when weighed in the scales of salvation. fuck the world, it's too icky to live.
ocd havers please be extra aware that google’s AI search will now explicitly offer reassurance (bad!!!) when you’re trying to do the ocd reassurance reddit search (also bad but at least it’s human people on a forum most of whom know how detrimental specific reassurance can be and will tailor responses accordingly)
