helenish reblogged your post and added:
I REJECT THIS TERMINOLOGY. Is it a battle when you’re halfway through a bottle of red wine and someone says “oh shit, I forgot,” and drags a bottle of champagne out of the back of her fridge? Is it a fight when the other person says, “hey, also, I made some brownies, too. The recipe called for canola oil but I used two sticks of butter and three quarters of a bag of chocolate chips.”?
crimsonclad reblogged your post and added:
Yup, ditto. My metaphors were more along the lines of collaboratively building the PYRAMIDS of sexbot tropes, but yes. This is a co-authored study on seminal tropes of the sexbot sub-genre of early twenty-first century fandom, and I certainly intend to put it on my fandom CV.
also, quick note from a colleague: at some point, Stiles is going to have to assume Derek is a sexbot. (Important development within the genre, mannnnnn)
THE ONLY REASON I WAS SO INTO THAT COMMENT is I was like picturing, like, a roman senate where we all have gavels and bang them to get our turn and then spend it shrieking about how if DEREK is the sexbot he would never ever have any urge to tell Stiles the truth and Stiles would have to discover it on his own. Derek Hale would LOVE being given simple and clear instructions and he'd be super into no one raising a brow when he deprived himself of normal human comforts or pushed himself too far.
BANGS GAVEL i'd like to present TO THE ASSEMBLY the moment when Stiles figures it out and is like, all faint, "but you ran eighteen miles in a hurricane to get us hot pockets. i only let you because you said you were going to use your weatherproof setting."
Derek shifts, uncomfortable. "It was fine, there weren't hills or anything."