rebootfic: domestic (kirk/spock, post-War Games)

Home from KiSCon, which was fantastic. And inspiring.

This is not the sequel to War Games, because that is much longer and not finished, as I just started it and I blame pretty much the entire convention for making me suddenly desperate to write it, and I can't even explain what happened there. I've finished two X-Men stories and this and I'm dreaming in fic. Third floor terraces in LA hotels are apparently fic writing shrines or something. Who knew?

This, however, is part of that sequel, but mostly, it's just domestication, Trek style. Next up (eventually), Emma coaxes Charles into body test-driving, because telepaths have weird ideas about what to do when you're bored on a Saturday night.

( reboot: domestic )

ack

Okay, so it's a belated just hit me, there you go; while watching the trailer for Final Destination 5, as God knows the complex plot and rich character development of the first four demanded we get another sequel, I was twitch, twitch, twitching my way through all highly obscure ways that you will definitely die, good fucking luck, and yet there was a strange and uncomfortable familiar sort of nauseated horror crossed with a faint, yet strangely insistent, sense of boredom, like, IDK, I'd seen this shit before.

Like on 1000 Ways To Die. I mean, I will not swear to it because hello, death, but I mean--there is Really Derivative and then there's ripping off the only show on earth that can make me believe in the high likelihood of being slowly and methodically cooked by random gamma radiation after accidentally tripping over a shovel and falling into a truck that accidentally slides into a toxic waste dump after aliens leave the earth a nuclear wasteland, and don't even lie, you watch a few hours of that, it's like, carrot dildo death is inevitable and you're terrified of the vegetable department because what if you really could trip and fall onto someonee's cock except with a cucumber?

Death by Random Ass Cactus Spines That Throw Themselves At You actually happened.

This concludes my life-affirming post on the potential to die in a way that isn't just gruesome and likely to get you a three minute slot on a ficitonalized reality TV show, but may be copied for a bad movie too.