boldygoing: (Communicator)

Captain James Tiberius Kirk, USS Enterprise, is currently unavailable.

Record message? Y/N
boldygoing: (Dress grays - briefing)
CHARACTER NAME: James Tiberius Kirk
CHARACTER SERIES: Star Trek (reboot films)

Backtagging: Yes!
Threadhopping: Also yes!
Fourthwalling: Prefer not. It is okay for your character to recognize his name and know that he's Captain of the Enterprise, but please don't tell him he's fictional.
Offensive subjects: Would prefer any sex scenes to be PG-13/fade-to-black.

Hugging this character: Sure! Jim loves hugs.
Kissing this character: Jim is totally down for that, regardless of gender, as long as your character is legally able to consent. I ship him with McCoy, and sometimes Spock (especially if it's a threesome package deal), but he's not currently seeing anyone exclusively. His century's idea of relationships is also a bit more open than contemporary times, so monogamy is not necessarily expected.
Flirting with this character: Absolutely. Same as above.
Fighting with this character: Yes, but please ask me first so we can talk it over.
Injuring this character: Yes. Same as above. I am okay with everything from bumps and bruises to broken bones and internal bleeding. If it's an injury that should result in a disability, either temporary or permanent, please discuss it OOC first.
Killing this character: Only if he gets brought back from the dead (again). Otherwise, no.
Using telepathy/mind reading abilities on this character: Certainly, but we should probably discuss it OOC first. IC, where Jim comes from, deliberately making an effort to read someone's mind without getting their consent first is considered rude and invasive, so do so at your own peril. Accidental/passive mind-reading is much more forgivable, and he will understand if it's something your character can't turn off.

Warnings: Jim is a genocide survivor and has some lingering psychological issues in regards to that, including behaviors that could be classified as an eating disorder, and he does not react well to "cold equation" justifications. He was also emotionally neglected throughout much of his childhood. While I do not intend on deliberately dwelling on these topics in RP, there is always the chance that they may come up, so if any of the above is potentially triggering to you, please let me know so that I can avoid bringing them up in RP between our characters.

Get your own copy of the IC/OOC Permissions meme!
boldygoing: (Beard: Listening intently)
Jim Kirk has not celebrated any holidays with his family for a very long time.

Sure, they started talking again after his enlistment in Starfleet made its way into several Earth newsfeeds, the usual media vultures seeking attention for their coverage of George Kirk's son returning to the fold, so to speak. Confined mostly to text-based messages, and a few short video calls, his grandparents have reached out to him over the past few years, trying to reconnect, to mend old fences, and giving a standing invitation to come visit whenever he's ready.

He's always had an excuse for not going, citing existing plans to spend time with Bones, to study for upcoming exams, or being out of the solar system on Starfleet business, among other things. But with the Enterprise still out of commission as her repairs and overhaul nears completion, and having spent several weeks sharing living space with his mother again, he can't really wiggle out of it this year.

Not that he's even sure he wants to, anymore.

His family life has never really been the poster child for well-adjusted people, but... they're still his family. And maybe it's time to stop running away from his problems and pretending they don't exist. He's not a traumatized thirteen-year-old anymore, overwhelmed and isolated in the knowledge that none of them can truly appreciate the horrors he lived through, lashing out at a world that allowed such things to happen to him. He's turned his life around, cleaned up his act, and started down a path that is far more important than just fulfilling his own wants, regardless of the legality. And this particular holiday seems like the appropriate time to try to make amends.

Fortunately, he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

Jim patiently waits just outside a public transporter terminal in the Chicago suburbs, sitting on a park bench. While still wearing civilian clothes, he's on the slightly more formal side of things today in a white dress shirt and dark pants, though he's not bothered to wear a tie. It's about mid-afternoon, and the streets are mildly busy with people out for a stroll or out running errands of some kind, a steady flow of foot traffic both on the sidewalks and beaming in and out at the transporter platforms. He idly watches them pass by, keeping an eye out for his expected guest, whose PINpoint coordinates should bring him out exactly where everyone expects people to appear out of nowhere.
boldygoing: (Dress grays - briefing)
All answers assume normal everyday life aboard the Enterprise. As of the time this was posted, the ship is in drydock for repairs.

What does their bedroom look like? The captain's quarters are the biggest aboard the Enterprise. It's one big single room with a half-wall partition separating the sleeping area from his workstation, which includes a desk and personal computer interface. There's a window above his single bunk that looks out into space, but no wall decorations. The furniture is all Starfleet-issued with no customization or variance from crew standard. There are two hidden doors in the sleeping area, one of which leads to a closet containing a dozen shipboard gold uniforms, two gray dress uniforms, one of each of the other styles of uniform, and a small selection of civilian clothing. The other door leads to a bathroom that is shared between the first officer's quarters next door. Other than his clothes, the only personal items on display are a crate of paperback books and some random knickknacks that he's picked up on various planets around Federation space.

Do they have any daily rituals? Jim always stops at the officers' mess every morning before his shift to get a bagel and coffee, which he usually refills before reporting to the bridge. Assuming there are no interruptions or crises that need to be addressed, he spends the first half hour of duty catching up on requisition forms and reports from the night shift. Jim and Spock are also in the habit of playing chess two to three times per week, usually around 1900 hours.

Cut for length )
boldygoing: (Disbelief)
With the restrictions on his food intake finally lifted, and with months to go until the Enterprise is ready to fly again, Jim Kirk has had all the more reasons to visit the Nexus and explore, particularly the markets. Whether it's finding interesting otherworldly seedlings for Sulu, tracking down a source of authentic Vulcan kreyla for Spock, or bringing home volumes of Russian literature for Chekov, there's always something to bring back for somebody.

Jim's been warned about LOLs before. Both through the brochure he picked up the first time he arrived here, and by some Nexus veterans, namely Hunter and Samus. But in the months since he's been visiting the multiverse, he's still never seen the phenomenon, not even once.

And so it's easy to forget for a moment that he has to be cautious.

He's discovered a Jewish cafe on one corner of the commercial district that's offering free samples to passersby, and it's been ages since he's had real, hand-made vorschmack on rye. So he doesn't think twice before accepting one of the samples on offer, and there's nothing to indicate that there's anything in it other than the usual bread, fish, and other typical ingredients he'd expect. At least, not until the woman running the sample cart asks him how he likes it.

Jim fully intends on simply complimenting her on the flavor of the food, but what comes out instead is, "It's good but not as good as my Grandma Ruth used to make." He blinks in confusion. "I don't know why I just said that. I wasn't going to tell you that." And again... he says more than he intended.

"Oh dear," the woman says, looking mournfully at the sample tray. "I used the wrong seasoning again. Sorry about that." And then she whisks the tray away, vanishing into the depths of the cafe with no explanation or any indication that she plans to return.

And only now does Jim remember the warnings he was given.

"Oh shit. This is not good." He doesn't know what the hell it's done to him, aside from making him chattier than he intended to be, but he doesn't want to go home like this. Especially not when he can't be certain there won't be more coming. And there's only one person he knows he can go to for help.

Jim calls up the coordinates for Hunter's apartment, hurrying to get his ass over there, muttering to himself under his breath.
boldygoing: (Eyebrows)
It's a beautiful spring day in Riverside, Iowa. The skies are clear and the weather is pleasantly mild, and across the endless fields that stretch out into vast distances, automated farm machinery is hard at work planting corn for the season.

There's no such machinery around the Kirk farm, though someone has bothered to zap away some of the weeds threatening to devour the foundation. The old homestead still sits disturbingly empty, all but abandoned if not for a few small signs that someone has been there recently. One of those signs sits just outside the house, leaning up against his motorbike as he waits for another rider to come join him, a set of riding goggles resting against his forehead.

The motorcycle has clearly seen better days, but it's nothing like twenty-first century bikes. There are no spokes in the wheels, for one thing - indeed, the wheels don't even seem attached by anything visible, held in place by some invisible force. It's keeping itself upright without a kickstand, as well, even though the young man in question is leaning most of his weight against it.
boldygoing: (Say what now)
Jim has been in Starfleet Medical for eight weeks before he's finally released. Which is not to say he's been cleared for duty, mind you. But he's recovered enough not to need that kind of constant medical supervision, able to take the rest of his treatment as outpatient. He has physical therapy three times a week, exercises to do at home, and of course Doctor McCoy is still keeping an eagle eye on his diet, something that annoys Jim to no end.

Of course, that's nothing compared to finding out that his Starfleet-assigned apartment is buried under the crashed bulk of the USS Vengeance.

Jim doesn't really give a shit about the apartment itself. Yeah, it was kind of nice to have his own place, but it's never been home. It was just a place to stay whenever the Enterprise was in port. And though it was more decorated than his quarters onboard the ship, it was all meaningless knickknacks, nothing with any real sentimental value.

No, he's more pissed about the fact that nobody told him until a month after he woke up from the coma.

He understands why, of course. McCoy gave him the whole spiel about stress being bad for his recovery, about not needing to worry himself about things he couldn't do anything about, that by the time this happened Jim was already dead, but it's a heavy blow to realize that the loss of life was far, far greater than he'd realized. Tens of thousands died or lost their homes. Yet Jim Kirk lives, when he has no right to be breathing, let alone leaving the hospital.

And it's hard not to be in a foul mood when he realizes that the only place he has to stay on Earth is in Iowa, at the old neglected Kirk homestead. At least it's not likely to be bugged by Section 31, and Jim spends two entire days sweeping the place for surveillance devices, and another three to get the house in order, before he's reassured enough to have visitors.

[OOC: Image links to replace broken ones below:
23rd century Iowa
Mind meld position]
boldygoing: (At the bar)
Jim had been looking forward to getting drinks with Hunter after the end of the Nibiru mission.

Sure, it didn't exactly go according to plan, but when does it ever? And with the news of a five-year mission in the works, not yet assigned to a ship, he's pretty excited that the Enterprise might have a shot at the most prestigious and ambitious assignment Starfleet has ever offered. No crew is more prepared, he feels. And getting to explore uncharted territory every day for five years is a dream come true.

But that's before he gets called into Pike's office and busted back to fucking cadet.

Before the admiral tells him that the Enterprise is no longer Jim's.

Before Pike tracks him down in a dive bar, spiraling into the black hole of his own thoughts, consuming everything except the horrible, sinking feeling in his gut that somehow he's done everything horribly wrong, and the admiral tells him that he's not out of the running just yet.

He's not captain anymore. But Commander Kirk is the first officer of the Enterprise now, and as awful as it is that Spock has been reassigned, it's a rope thrown to a drowning man.

He's not okay. But maybe eventually he will be. And he barely has time to process any of this before the call comes in, that there's an emergency session called at Headquarters. Something like that is never, ever good news. And no matter what it's about, Jim has the distinct feeling that he's not going to be able to get around to having drinks with Hunter tonight.

He hurries to get into his gray dress uniform, and fires off a quick text message to the now-familiar number. Need raincheck. Emergency @ HQ.

Surely he'll have the time to reschedule later, once the crisis is over.
boldygoing: (Serious captain)
It has been a week or two since the Enterprise was in any kind of condition to entertain visitors. A supply run here, a survey mission there, nothing close to casual enough for Captain Kirk to justify setting aside a little time to have a guest aboard, his days taken up by the duties of command. And certainly not out in the middle of deep space, where an unexpected visitor would be more likely to be seen as a stowaway or intruder, no matter if the captain vouched for them or not.

But it has been six months since the crew's last chance for shore leave, so after the debriefings are complete, Starfleet Command gives the slightly weary crew a brief three days off while the ship's systems are inspected and recalibrated. And it's a perfect opportunity to make good on his offer from a while ago.

Jim sits at a shuttle terminal in downtown San Francisco, a gold-shirt in a small sea of red and blue, all Starfleet personnel waiting to be taken up to various starships in orbit or in Spacedock. He knows it might be a few minutes before Hunter arrives, and keeps himself busy reviewing reports on a padd, keeping an eye out for the distinctive tattoos of his invited guest.

[OOC: Image links to replace invalid links below:
USS Enterprise
Warp core
Officer's lounge]
boldygoing: (Communicator)
True to his word, about five days after Jim's first venture into the Nexus, he finds the time to send a message to Hunter's PINpoint via his own version of the gizmo, an attachment he's hardwired into his standard-issue communicator.

Hey handsome. Enterprise in port for minor repairs. You free this evening? -Cpt. JTK

He sure hopes so. It's been a long day, and he'd love the chance to relax with a friend. Bones and Spock are both busy with personal business, but that's just fine with him, since he owes the friendly neighborhood artist a night at a bar someplace.

[[OOC: Image link to replace broken one below: Jim's civilian outfit]