James "Jim" T. Kirk (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
finalfrontiersman) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
expiationlogs2024-07-05 10:38 am
finalfrontiersman) wrote in expiationlogs2024-07-05 10:38 am
[ open ] never judge a book by its cover
Who: Jim Kirk & You!
Where: All around Aldrip
What: Catch-all for the month + open prompts for Jim's glitches (child!Jim, pirate!Jim, and 63!Jim).
Content Warnings: Profanity, canon-typical violence involving swords and a biting child. Potential for discussions of genocide and eating disorders in the child!Jim prompts.
1. [ OPEN - CHILD!JIM ]
there ain't nothing in this world for free
there ain't nothing in this world for free
Downtown Aldrip is full of hustle and bustle at the height of the day, denizens and Chosen alike flitting from place to place. The main square is always buzzing with crossing foot traffic, people coming and going from the various shops, packages in their clutches - or perhaps from the library or city building. Jim hasn't approached any of the official buildings yet, instead choosing to be an unobtrusive people-watcher from the sidelines. He hasn't seen any police or Starfleet around, and while he would be wary of adults in general (adults lie to you, especially to children, because they think they can't handle the world as it is when really, children have to live at the whims of the world more than anybody else) - he's warier still of being sent back into the care of the strange Vulcan man he'd just run away from. He doesn't know what happened to Spock, the Vulcan kid he'd woken up with - he was too freaked out by the sudden appearance of the adult and his subsequent refusal to answer simple questions (in a way that made any sense to Jim, anyway). Instead, Jim had done what he did best - break free by any means necessary and run, scrambling across the kitchen floor for the doggy door, and shoving himself through it. He'd scraped up his hands pretty good and bumped his knee, but the ache was fading already. He'd had worse, at any rate.
Jim gets up from his position in the shade of a tree, making a wide circle around the main square. He hasn't done this in a while, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He quickly finds his mark, arcing his gait casually, sandy head hung low. Putting on airs of a teenager not paying any attention, Jim bumps into his target head on - if they have anything in their hands/a bag, he makes sure to send it scattering. If not, he intentionally trips, sending himself sprawling to the ground - if not taking them with him.
"Oh, I'm so sorry [Mister/Ma'am]!" Jim springs up, either to help gather the person's scattered belongings into a helpful pile, or to help steady the person on their feet, hands too quick and light to be noticed (unless, perhaps, the person he'd marked was a better pickpocket than him - whoops). "I'm sorry, I should have watched where I was going. Have a nice day."
His retreat is too hasty, but Jim ducks away quickly - the key was to be in and out as fast as possible. Whomever he's started walking away from may notice something missing from their belongings, or perhaps directly their pocket - be it cash, their tablet, or whatever Jim managed to grab. If they choose call out after him, he'll start running, and if they try to grab him - be careful, he bites.
2. [ OPEN - CHILD!JIM ]
i ain't no fortunate one
i ain't no fortunate one
The dock is lively at this hour, with a decent crowd milling around the various food stalls and wares, set up for perusing. It's not uncommon for a bit of trouble to unfold itself - fights breaking out over haggling gone wrong, stowaways on boats, general skullduggery as is wont to occur anywhere shifty types can gather freely. At the height of the day, however, it is a little unusual to be happening in broad daylight - there's someone yelling up ahead, people being shoved this way and that before a scrawny, sandy-haired boy emerges from press of the crowd, panting and wild-eyed - clearly looking for a way out.
His crime, what has an angry shopowner on his tail, coming up behind him to collar him roughly? Well, he's got what appears to be a sandwich in his grip, though at this point it's more of a squished lump of meat and bread. Jim kicks out with both feet, thrashing in the man's hold with all the strength he has, to no avail. He gets smacked in the back of the head for his trouble, so Jim turns and bites down on the guy's hand, hard - look, it's worked so far, so if it ain't broke?
"Ow, FUCK - ! Fucking kid - " This gets him thrown to the ground, sufficiently freed from the shopkeeper's grip - Jim's still clinging to the sandwich (if it can still pass as one, at this point), rolling across the ground to land at someone's feet. He scrambles to a sitting position, jacket pulled askew, and seems ready to bolt again - if not for the fact that his back is trembling, where he's pressed against the person's legs.
3. [ OPEN - PIRATE!JIM ]
yes, i am a pirate, two hundred years too late
yes, i am a pirate, two hundred years too late
"En garde, you dirty dog!"
There's shouting up ahead, a small crowd gathered at the end of the dock with one man visible above the commotion (or, more accurately, the source of it), clinging on to the side of a boat with one hand while the other brandishes a sword that he sweeps through the air in front of him, demanding a bubble of personal space. He's scruffy and dressed in an open, airy shirt - is he supposed to be a pirate, or something? As you get closer, those who are familiar with a certain Captain James T. Kirk - Jim, to most of the Chosen he's met here - may recognize him. Beneath the unshaven scruff and general...ridiculous swagger, apparently.
"I've commandeered this vessel, and shall be setting sail!" The announcement is bellowed brazenly, Jim tossing his head to shift pieces of hair out of his eyes, a grin twisting his mouth. Either someone's cosplaying pretty hard, or he's not his usual self. "Back and away with you, unless you'd prefer to be driven back by my blade! Dealer's choice!"
Maybe someone should step in and calm him down...or if you have Spock's number, maybe someone should alert him to come get the glitched Captain. If you can get Jim to put down the sword and stop threatening the locals, that is.
4. [ OPEN - 63!JIM ]
dude, dude, dude, dude looks like a lady
dude, dude, dude, dude looks like a lady
For anyone out in the surrounding forest near the outskirts of Aldrip, they may come across a young woman one morning, just near the border of the forest - far enough in for her task, but not venturing too deep within. Despite it being early and not particularly hot out, she's dripping with sweat, hacking at a tree with an axe - and cursing up a storm, because she's been at this for at least an hour and the pile of wood next to her is just sad, really, for the amount of energy she's expending on it.
"Mother - " Jim kicks the tree in irritation, which just makes his foot ache, and drops the axe with a disgusted noise before plopping down in the grass. Ugh. Perhaps his frustration isn't from the tree (although what the hell, why couldn't he just buy lumber in this godforsaken town) - but the fact that he's not himself at the moment. He's been glitching all over the place and he's getting sick of this shit, to be perfectly honest. This isn't the worst it could be, glitching into a woman - at least he still knows who he is, has his memories in full - but the ponytail he tried to put his new excess hair into is sad and lopsided. He's better at braiding hair when it's not on his own head.
He also doesn't own a bra since he's normally a dude, and no one told him boobs started to hurt, after a while, without support. So he's sore, tired, and frustrated - maybe he'll just flop and lay in the grass for a while.
Waking up is a violent affair.
Nightmares are not an uncommon occurrence for Jim - the rapid beating of his heart, quickening under duress, breaths ripping their way through his airways until finally the adrenaline woke him up, wide-eyed and sweating. There was a time when he was too thin for the sweat, when his body could spare neither the energy nor the moisture and he would simply shake himself awake, tremors lessening as he grounded himself in reality - but never quite abating, the tremble still visible in his hands, the subtle shake of his shoulders.
He’s better now, or so they tell him. Able to eat more than just the nutri-dense ration bars, recovering and resilient, as children are wont to be. But he still has the nightmares, and as Jim would know if he wasn’t currently glitched - they’ll always be there. New and old and different, he will trade one for another, swapping orange, fuzzy fields for red-tipped rocks, or the cool sickly green of a starship in crisis. He’ll learn to wake quieter, to tamp down on the instinctive panic, to swallow the spike of adrenaline and soldier through.
But today, Jim wakes with a startled shout, almost dizzy with the suddenness of consciousness. Sandy bangs, lightly colored from exposure to the sun (they would darken as he got older, evening out into a dirtier blond at the root) plaster against his forehead, lips parted on ragged inhales. Jim sits bolt upright, sheets tangled about his legs as he kicks them, struggling to feel all his limbs freed. If they weren't free, he was trapped, and being trapped meant nothing good. It stopped you from running, and when you stopped running - that's when you were dead.
The room is unfamiliar, as wild, wheeling eyes look around for anything recognizable. No dice. Jim can't remember anything, not how he got here, where here is, nothing. That is, decidedly, the most troublesome, moreso than his nightmares - though trying to tell that to the panic winding its way through his chest is an exercise in futility. Recovery has made him weak, because there used to be a time when he wouldn’t be paralyzed with fear, when he’d wake up ready to fight - when the panic attack could be diverted to a more convenient time, when the other kids were asleep and could not hear him.
There’s nothing to stop him now, as the attack settles itself against his ribcage, threatening to choke him - except something does, right in his tracks, when his eyes land on the most unexpected detail of all: there’s a Vulcan at the end of the bed.
Jim’s seen Vulcans before. There were Vulcan crew members on the Kelvin, some who died and some who didn’t, which meant there was a pointy-eared contingent at every remembrance ceremony Jim had ever been forced to attend. They were interesting, if strange and other (perhaps that was why they were interesting) and Jim certainly liked their company a lot better than the people who just wept (there was no shortage of those), who all seemed to want to hug him. No, the Vulcans did not want a hug - instead they would bow, sweeping and low, and when Jim asked why the elder, severe-looking one had told him, We owe your father a life-debt we may never repay him, James Kirk.
So yeah, Jim’s seen Vulcans. He’s never seen a Vulcan kid before.
It distracts him from the fear, from the way his chest aches and the bewilderment of unfamiliar surroundings. Jim stares at the blunt bowl cut, the severe line of the kid’s eyebrows, the pointed tips of his ears, poking out from beneath dark hair. The Vulcan has a softness to his features, different from that of the adults - not as severe cheekbones, a layer of baby fat protecting them. He can’t be much younger than Jim, though anyone younger than him is automatically sorted into the take care of the kid category.
Still, what comes out when he opens his mouth is perhaps harsher than Jim might have liked, all the bite and snapping of a cornered animal, fingers twisting in the sheets. “Who the fuck are you?”
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In all seriousness though, it's just Jim being Jim (maybe even more obnoxiously so, truth be told), trying his best to feel comfortable in his own skin. Gender identity and presentation weren't as big a deal in his time, so it's actually not anything to do with emasculation or the like - more about the violation of being forced to be different. He's worn makeup or hell, even a dress and heels in his time - look at Spock, rocking the eyeshadow on the daily - but that was a choice. His body does not feel like it's his, at the moment, and it's just another way Aldrip is choosing to fuck with them.
Regardless, sorry Gwen, it's just empirical fact that he's smokin' at this point. ]
Well that's probably not a good sign. [ Jim frowns, eyeing Gwen critically for a moment. ] Is there anything we can do to stop them, or do you think it's more to do with - well, everything?
[ He sighs, free hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose. ] ...yes, he did. I left before he could get back from his...shopping trip.
[ Jim had decided very quickly that he didn't want to find out what "obtaining the requisite supplies" meant, determined to try and go about his day normally and just - you know, not pay attention to his problem in the hopes it would go away. That always worked, right?
Gwen essentially magicks a hair tie out of nowhere, and Jim obliges by turning, letting her save him by tying his hair back and out of the way. Typically, he has a few inches on her, but like this, they're closer to the same height - he's still a tall woman, but not the usual six feet above the ground.
Jim turns back around, gratitude evident in his expression - genuine, because as admittedly-hilarious as this is, the essence of what he's been doing this morning is trying to hold back frustration and panic that was liable to break him. He'd much rather drown that in the bottom of a whiskey glass when he was back to himself again. Letting it win while he was glitched just felt like he was giving in. ] Thank you. So much better, christ.
What are you doing out here, anyway?
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[She's trying to play it sarcastically, but in all honesty, it's a little scary?? If they had stayed in Miles' dimension too long, the glitches would've only gotten worse, and eventually killed them. Thankfully they were all able to get home before that happened, but she had wondered why they didn't glitch here, ever since she arrived.
But they're all glitching, even if it isn't that same kind of glitch? So maybe it's just something wrong with the reality they're in? First the AI appeared, and now this, so maybe the simulation was having issues? Maybe overloaded? There were a lot of new people, it seemed. If this really was a simulation, it could be putting strain on the system.
It's hard to keep back the smirk when Jim confirms that Spock saw him like this, but she's going to be nice for now, since today is not his day. But it's alright, she's going to store this information and absolutely bring it back up later. It's also funny to be closer to his current height too. She's by no means short, she's 5'7", but that's still a decent difference from his usual six feet. Ahhh, this is so amusing.]
Uh-- Fresh air, mostly? The farm's cool. I'm from New York City, so we don't exactly have a lot of greenery that isn't Central Park. But I might've glitched like you currently are earlier. Not-- into a boy, but. Another Gwen. It was... weird as hell, honestly. [Just like with the other glitch, she doesn't see the point in trying to lie. Jim was good at seeing through her, but honestly? She's come to trust him. He wasn't even in a spider-person, but he seemed to understand her and Peter in a way most didn't.]
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He's always thought it would take a massive amount of computing power to have all the Chosen loaded in, so to speak, at once. He hasn't been to the other areas of the world himself yet - but he knows they exist, the desert, the wilds beyond the edge of the forest. It would take a lot of RAM to have all of that, and Aldrip, and the natives, and the Chosen all up and running. A massive operation, actually, and God only knows what will happen if it fails on them... ]
Plenty of that out here. [ Jim crosses an arm over his chest, stretching out the triceps he'd been overworking just before Gwen arrived. Being top-heavy had affected his swing with the axe and he'd be paying the price for it later. ] Tell you what though, these trees fight back.
Yeah these glitches have been...unpredictable. [ That's putting it mildly, as he's woken up from being fifteen, a pirate, and now a woman, throughout the month. And Spock, well - he's had visual glitches, with the longer hair, reverting to a child himself, and most recently - human, actually. Full-blooded human. Trippy as fuck, truth be told. ]
It's fun for like, the first five minutes. [ Jim allows that much, smile sympathetic. At least Gwen had retained her memories with that glitch, though the next one might not be so forgiving. The STEM club has grown closer over their tenure here in Aldrip, and Jim and Gwen specifically, too. He admires both her and Peter - they're remarkable young people, and they remind Jim of the good stock. The bright-eyed and bushy-tailed of Starfleet, extraordinary people who did what they could to make the world a better place. In the end, they weren't so different; like understands like. ] But then you just want to be yourself again.
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Do they, though? [She fights back a hint of laughter again as he stretches. Not only was he top-heavy, but he was in a body with a completely different muscle mass. That made a big difference, when it came to physical tasks, such as chopping wood. Which she gestures to, now.] I can finish off that stack for you, if you want. [She has super strength, so honestly she could probably break up the wood with her bare hands.]
It's weird, right? Do you think this has anything to do with that AI popping up? [That was two months ago, now, but she can't help but wonder. The only other big change was the new influx of people. She's not quite the computer savvy person that the STEM guys are, but she understands enough to know that any sudden influx of data would put strain on a system. Especially if the system was already weakened, and it honestly sounds like it's been getting weaker and weaker, from what she's heard from others.]
Yeah! Yeah, exactly. Peter's had some pretty funny ones, though. No changing into a completely different person, but he did get stuck on the ceiling for a while and couldn't get down. [She feels bad for laughing, but it was really funny. Not to mention him not being able to talk, which was amazing there for a little while, even if she felt guilty for enjoying the peace and quiet.]
I hope this isn't going to be a new normal for around here. I don't like not being myself. [Other-Gwen didn't have spider powers. Even if she didn't know that was wrong when she glitched, she remembered everything other-Gwen felt, and it felt so wrong.]
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They absolutely do! [ Jim's flailing hand does him no favors in terms of making him look more reasonable and not a disheveled crazy woman in the woods. He sighs and nods, picking up the axe to offer it to Gwen with a sheepish, if grateful, smile. ] ...if it's not too much trouble, that'd actually be a really big help. Why the hell can't we buy lumber in this town?
It could, but honestly? [ Jim crouches next to the pile of misshapen wood that's already been chopped - hopefully the guy at the mill could turn this into usable planks, or Jim was going to be pissed - taking inventory to do the mental math on how much was needed. ] The AI has been quiet since. I think it's more to do with the strain of running this place.
I mean think about it, right. You and I are here, out in the forest. You were just over at the farm - I was here, and let's say Peter and Spock are together at STEM, for simplicity. That's four consciousnesses, processing three different locations, and whatever they're interacting with has to be loaded in, too. [ Jim ticks it off on his fingers, shaking his head, and the braid swings against his back. ] And there are way more people here than there ever have been. No system is infinite. We could be pushing towards a failure point.
[ The mental image of Peter being stuck on the ceiling is honestly hilarious, and at least it gets a smile out of Jim. ] I take it back, maybe it's not all bad.
We'll figure it out. We'll find the port before it gets bad. [ Is he confident that's true? Well. Lets just say he's manifesting the confidence. Fake it till you make it was a very underrated strategy. ] Or maybe our not-so-gracious hosts will fix their dataflow problem. You'd think they wouldn't overload their own system, unless -
[ Jim cuts off with a frown, eyebrows knitting together. Despite the fact that he's a woman, his expressions translate pretty 1:1. He almost doesn't want to say it, but the thought that occurred to him deserves to be spoken aloud. ] ...unless no one is monitoring it.
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Gwen just grins at Jim's failing, and easily takes the axe from his hands. She holds it with pretty much zero effort, before she positions the wood and strikes. It's like butter, in her hands. Easy peasy.]
I wondered that too. I don't know computers quite the same as you guys, but yeah. Dozens upon dozens of consciousness running data-- that's a lot. I can't imagine the stress that would put on the system. [It would have to be an insanely large system, to run it smoothly. And given these glitches-- clearly it wasn't able to handle the load.
That, or Jim was right. And no one was monitoring it.
She sets up another log, rolling the axe back and forth in her palm, before she strikes again, just as easily as before.] Do you think Jerry's another AI? He was very robotic when we met him.
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[ Jim's head tips up to watch Gwen strike the tree and jeez, sometimes he forgets how strong the spider twins are. He should ask one or both of them to arm wrestle Spock. Probably have to get him a glove, but the experiment would totally be worth it. ]
Monumental. Think supercomputer, then add a couple million terabytes. [ Especially when you started factoring in high intelligence - lets be honest here, it takes more to run Spock's brain than it does Jim's. There was a whole host of highly intelligent people here - and that wasn't even getting into the idle information that would be generated! Every memory or errant thought, recalling information that may or may not already have a duplicate on the system - at some point, they'd dump the cache. Is that what happened before, when the city changed overnight?
It's not a comforting thought, the idea that they've been dumped here with no oversight, that the wrong move could push things over into a catastrophic failure - or worse yet, that the endpoint was inevitable, and they were just wasting time until their ultimate demise. If there's a way out from within, though - they're going to find it, or die trying. ]
It's not out of the question. [ That would actually make so much sense. Why he never left, why he seemed to exist only within city hall - yet other denizens of Aldrip had residences? Maybe it was because he was a more advanced intelligence? ] I'm not afraid to throw hands with a robot, though.
[ Yes, he's still got beef with Jerry, no, he is not letting it go. ]
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To think they have that level of tech, and use it to-- what, torture people? [Because this wasn't justice. This wasn't a sort of way to make people learn and grow. It was just annoying and ridiculous and absurd. Especially given how many of them had false or weird crimes being held over them.]
I'd pay to watch that, not gonna lie. [If he wanted to watch her or Peter arm wrestle Spock, then he can't be mad for her watching to watch him take on Jerry.]
Did you ever hear back from him after that glitter bomb?
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He lets it lie, though, eyeing Gwen surreptitiously; she's not in need of a pep talk now, and he won't pry. It's best to let the teenagers come to you, Jim's found; on their own terms. ]
The things people do with power, [ Jim shakes his head, hands stilling briefly on the wood he's cataloging. ] Well, wouldn't be the first time. They tend to delude themselves into thinking it's for the better, so reasoning is pretty much negligible.
One ticket to the gun show, coming up. [ He laughs, the sound slightly odd with the different vocal chords - it still somehow sounded like him, but in a different register. ] Not a word so far. Can't be sure it worked, but it made it into the building, at least. And I feel better having sent it, so it was worth it.
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That saying, she still didn't appreciate the way this place was messing with them all so much.]
Believe me, I know. [She knows, far too well. From all the villains she's faced, from watching her friend cave to the temptation of being special... she's seen how people fall too easily to the lust that power gives them.] That doesn't make it any better.
[It's so weird, how it's him but not him. Poor Jim. Hopefully he won't be cursed with this glitch too much longer. She doesn't want to keep laughing at his misery, but it really is hard to keep a straight face.] He's going to be trying to get the glitter out of the carpet forever. [she low key wants to find out for sure, whenever sentencing happens again. hopefully it won't be her, but maybe she can find out who went in and get an update.]
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It never could, for people like them. Exceptional people, people who had abilities and knowledge, called to serve the greater good. It sounds stupid, and maybe it is - Jim had certainly laughed in Pike's face when he'd been presented with it. But that doesn't change the fact that it's true. What's worse, they know that they're needed - and it's hard to resist a siren call as strong as responsibility. ]
I know you do. [ Jim responds quietly, an acknowledgement. Gwen has lived more than most in her time, and Jim doesn't know everything, but he knows enough. ] Nothing can. But it makes it...easier to bear, I think.
[ He won't really be mad if she does laugh. It is, ultimately, really quite funny - and she did help him, more than kind about the circumstances. ]
He damn well deserves it. [ Jim nods assertively, forearms dropping to rest on his thighs as he crouches. ] I hope it took him at least three showers to get it out.