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Character Information
Name: James T. Kirk
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Character Information II
Age/Appearance: Jim Kirk is currently 36 years old. Of average height and muscular build, tending towards pudginess when he indulges. Dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and regular, all-American features.
History: James T. Kirk at Memory Alpha
Personality: At first glance, Jim Kirk is the quintessential macho hero: strong, blandly attractive, a lauded captain of the exploratory and peacekeeping Starfleet. He makes decisions quickly, is good in a fight, and seems able to have any woman (and some men) fall under his spell in seconds flat. What is less obvious is that he takes his responsibility very seriously, and underlying the man of action is one of compassion. A man of both action and thought, he is ultimately a very adaptable, flexible person within the confines of his moral beliefs.
As a captain, Jim listens to his subordinates and welcomes their input and debate. He maintains most of his crew at arm's length, while cultivating a familiarity that has resulted in a degree of loyalty which means they would do anything for him because they want to, not because he outranks them. While gregarious and open, he can be short-tempered under duress, but always apologizes. He can be overly familiar, but does not cross personal lines of conduct he has set for himself. In fact, he is a lonely man, having made the decision shortly after taking command that his first responsibility is to the ship and the crew, and that this does not mix with romance. He confines his exploits to shore leave and the occasional, unavoidable away mission encounter. He is content with this, more or less, because it is a decision he has come to on his own.
As a man, Jim loves easily and often, but it is by no means only sexual or shallow (though his appetite can be considerable and broad). Jim has a genuine compassion for all living things, a boundless curiosity about life, and a rigid belief in right and wrong. He has, to some extent, internalized the values of the Federation to the point where he no longer separates them from his own--leading, at times, to overstepping his duties (if not outright re-interpreting them) as its representative. Justice is, however, always tempered with mercy, and second chances are always an option.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Jim Kirk is extremely open about sex. He has rigid rules for himself as captain of the Enterprise--while there are no rules against fraternization, he does not indulge in his desires when it comes to his crew. However, he is a very sexual being, focused very much on the pleasure of his partner(s). He'll try anything once, as long as it does not interfere with his duty. He's also huge on consent--anything goes between adults, but only if all parties are fully willing. He's bisexual, and has been monogamous (though his career always wins) though he is open to polyamory or one-night stands. Even with his flings, however, he tends to care deeply.
Powers: None.
Reason for playing: There's something about the inherent contradiction of Kirk that fascinates me. I feel that the character as originally written was a rather bland action hero, much like the Pike of the first pilot, but Shatner brought a strange sexuality and playfulness to the role that makes him both absurdly flirtatious and amazingly compassionate. It achieved layers I think that were accidental. I love playing with those. I love that he's not a typical macho hero, but very much a "new masculine" ideal (at least in the 60s, when you just didn't see men with strong emotions). And I love that he's a genuinely good person who loves a lot and often, has no sexual shame, and can sort of overstep himself when he feels he's in the right. I'm interested in finding out what his darker desires are, and exploring them.
Samples
First-Person: (5-10 sentences)
I still prefer to eat with the men. Of course, when I say "men," I mean my crew, but sometimes I think the patriarchal language of the military histories I read is funny. Is it too soon for ironic misogyny?
Anyway, my point is this: there's an officers' mess, and I'll eat there if Bones or Spock or someone else wants a quiet meal, a word with me afterwards, that sort of thing. Sometimes, if I'm really hungry or in a rush or the shift has just changed and the mess is full, I'll go where I'm always at the head of the line. But it always feels like cheating. Maybe I'm doing it wrong--maybe my crew doesn't need that sort of access to me. Maybe they shouldn't see me waiting in line with my tray or spilling ranch dressing down my uniform or eating two desserts because dammit, it's been that sort of day.
Third-Person: (200 words minimum)
Jim had no idea how he'd gotten there.
Leave had been mandatory--he'd known that. And at the end of their five-year-mission, he was supposed to be celebrating, making plans, anticipating the future. But for days he had merely been mourning the past, a life's work accomplished at 36. He'd told everyone he was going to take some time to think, but he'd mostly been sulking. Well, sulking and drinking.
They wanted to promote him. They wanted to stick him behind a desk. Most celebrated captain in Starfleet history--so he was told--and they wanted him out of harm's way. He thought they also wanted him where they could keep an eye on him, where the leeway of a five-year deep-space mission wouldn't be allowed him. They wanted to harness that Kirk smile, and not deal with any of the fallout. Not realizing that the fallout was just a natural consequence of the job getting done.
The temporary quarters were starting to collapse in on him and he'd gotten himself beamed somewhere, anywhere, only something seemed to be wrong. He was pretty sure he hadn't been anyplace on Earth that looked like this. Ruined, run-down, blasted. Girls with motives too mature for their bodies, litter on the pavement. He shook his head, reaching instinctively for his communicator. But all he found was a PADD, the screen refusing to draw up a map, his coordinates. He glanced up sharply in time to see a man punch another in the gut at the mouth of a dark ally, and he started towards them, intent on breaking it up before he even knew where he was. He could find his way home later.
Third-Person #2: (200 words minimum)
His hand crept down to wrap around his cock, no shame in this act, nothing to distinguish it from a hundred other times, as the bottle of lube in the drawer by the bed would attest. Being alone didn’t have to mean being lonely, or was it the other way around?
Jim could feel him, a constant presence at his back as if he hardly needed to give orders anymore. Spock knew, and would follow. And Jim could almost forget that, almost take advantage of it. Almost feel him in the room now, staring down at him, watching him feign sleep perhaps, waiting for the moment to bend closer, to whisper something dark in guttural Vulcan that Jim could only guess at the sense of.
Jim would hold steady, his eyes closed, waiting. Waiting for Spock to make that first move, because he had to, didn’t he see? Jim couldn’t. Not as his captain. Not without knowing he hadn’t ordered Spock into this, like he did so many other dangerous situations. Not knowing what he did now, about Vulcan biology, about the rituals surrounding his people that Jim had willingly died for today and still bore the marks of.
Now he felt the weight of Spock on him again, as he had earlier, only this time it was the press of something else against Jim’s leg that had his attention. Spock twisting that strip of leather around his neck, his breath coming faster, eyes fever-bright and hardly seeing him but Jim knew, he knew, that Spock knew him, could see, could feel him respond as his hand moved faster and in his mind Spock dropped the ends of the ahn-woon and sank his teeth into Jim’s shoulder, suddenly bare, as the rest of him was, and Jim bucked up against him, feeling Spock’s hard cock pressed against his back and he was ready, waiting, his body begging to be claimed even as part of him fought to turn around, to turn over, and do the claiming himself. Spock pressed him into the glittering sand of Vulcan, the heat suddenly welcome, matched by the hot hard length making its way inside him, in Jim’s fantasy welcome and open as Spock pounded into him over and over and Jim just tried to hold on under the onslaught, vision dimming, and in his own hand he lasted an amazingly short length of time before spilling over his fingers and belly, the spell broken, an odd, unfamiliar shame settling over him as he cleaned himself up.
Name: James T. Kirk
Fandom: Star Trek: The Original Series
Character Information II
Age/Appearance: Jim Kirk is currently 36 years old. Of average height and muscular build, tending towards pudginess when he indulges. Dark blond hair, hazel eyes, and regular, all-American features.
History: James T. Kirk at Memory Alpha
Personality: At first glance, Jim Kirk is the quintessential macho hero: strong, blandly attractive, a lauded captain of the exploratory and peacekeeping Starfleet. He makes decisions quickly, is good in a fight, and seems able to have any woman (and some men) fall under his spell in seconds flat. What is less obvious is that he takes his responsibility very seriously, and underlying the man of action is one of compassion. A man of both action and thought, he is ultimately a very adaptable, flexible person within the confines of his moral beliefs.
As a captain, Jim listens to his subordinates and welcomes their input and debate. He maintains most of his crew at arm's length, while cultivating a familiarity that has resulted in a degree of loyalty which means they would do anything for him because they want to, not because he outranks them. While gregarious and open, he can be short-tempered under duress, but always apologizes. He can be overly familiar, but does not cross personal lines of conduct he has set for himself. In fact, he is a lonely man, having made the decision shortly after taking command that his first responsibility is to the ship and the crew, and that this does not mix with romance. He confines his exploits to shore leave and the occasional, unavoidable away mission encounter. He is content with this, more or less, because it is a decision he has come to on his own.
As a man, Jim loves easily and often, but it is by no means only sexual or shallow (though his appetite can be considerable and broad). Jim has a genuine compassion for all living things, a boundless curiosity about life, and a rigid belief in right and wrong. He has, to some extent, internalized the values of the Federation to the point where he no longer separates them from his own--leading, at times, to overstepping his duties (if not outright re-interpreting them) as its representative. Justice is, however, always tempered with mercy, and second chances are always an option.
Sexual Preferences/Orientation: Jim Kirk is extremely open about sex. He has rigid rules for himself as captain of the Enterprise--while there are no rules against fraternization, he does not indulge in his desires when it comes to his crew. However, he is a very sexual being, focused very much on the pleasure of his partner(s). He'll try anything once, as long as it does not interfere with his duty. He's also huge on consent--anything goes between adults, but only if all parties are fully willing. He's bisexual, and has been monogamous (though his career always wins) though he is open to polyamory or one-night stands. Even with his flings, however, he tends to care deeply.
Powers: None.
Reason for playing: There's something about the inherent contradiction of Kirk that fascinates me. I feel that the character as originally written was a rather bland action hero, much like the Pike of the first pilot, but Shatner brought a strange sexuality and playfulness to the role that makes him both absurdly flirtatious and amazingly compassionate. It achieved layers I think that were accidental. I love playing with those. I love that he's not a typical macho hero, but very much a "new masculine" ideal (at least in the 60s, when you just didn't see men with strong emotions). And I love that he's a genuinely good person who loves a lot and often, has no sexual shame, and can sort of overstep himself when he feels he's in the right. I'm interested in finding out what his darker desires are, and exploring them.
Samples
First-Person: (5-10 sentences)
I still prefer to eat with the men. Of course, when I say "men," I mean my crew, but sometimes I think the patriarchal language of the military histories I read is funny. Is it too soon for ironic misogyny?
Anyway, my point is this: there's an officers' mess, and I'll eat there if Bones or Spock or someone else wants a quiet meal, a word with me afterwards, that sort of thing. Sometimes, if I'm really hungry or in a rush or the shift has just changed and the mess is full, I'll go where I'm always at the head of the line. But it always feels like cheating. Maybe I'm doing it wrong--maybe my crew doesn't need that sort of access to me. Maybe they shouldn't see me waiting in line with my tray or spilling ranch dressing down my uniform or eating two desserts because dammit, it's been that sort of day.
Third-Person: (200 words minimum)
Jim had no idea how he'd gotten there.
Leave had been mandatory--he'd known that. And at the end of their five-year-mission, he was supposed to be celebrating, making plans, anticipating the future. But for days he had merely been mourning the past, a life's work accomplished at 36. He'd told everyone he was going to take some time to think, but he'd mostly been sulking. Well, sulking and drinking.
They wanted to promote him. They wanted to stick him behind a desk. Most celebrated captain in Starfleet history--so he was told--and they wanted him out of harm's way. He thought they also wanted him where they could keep an eye on him, where the leeway of a five-year deep-space mission wouldn't be allowed him. They wanted to harness that Kirk smile, and not deal with any of the fallout. Not realizing that the fallout was just a natural consequence of the job getting done.
The temporary quarters were starting to collapse in on him and he'd gotten himself beamed somewhere, anywhere, only something seemed to be wrong. He was pretty sure he hadn't been anyplace on Earth that looked like this. Ruined, run-down, blasted. Girls with motives too mature for their bodies, litter on the pavement. He shook his head, reaching instinctively for his communicator. But all he found was a PADD, the screen refusing to draw up a map, his coordinates. He glanced up sharply in time to see a man punch another in the gut at the mouth of a dark ally, and he started towards them, intent on breaking it up before he even knew where he was. He could find his way home later.
Third-Person #2: (200 words minimum)
His hand crept down to wrap around his cock, no shame in this act, nothing to distinguish it from a hundred other times, as the bottle of lube in the drawer by the bed would attest. Being alone didn’t have to mean being lonely, or was it the other way around?
Jim could feel him, a constant presence at his back as if he hardly needed to give orders anymore. Spock knew, and would follow. And Jim could almost forget that, almost take advantage of it. Almost feel him in the room now, staring down at him, watching him feign sleep perhaps, waiting for the moment to bend closer, to whisper something dark in guttural Vulcan that Jim could only guess at the sense of.
Jim would hold steady, his eyes closed, waiting. Waiting for Spock to make that first move, because he had to, didn’t he see? Jim couldn’t. Not as his captain. Not without knowing he hadn’t ordered Spock into this, like he did so many other dangerous situations. Not knowing what he did now, about Vulcan biology, about the rituals surrounding his people that Jim had willingly died for today and still bore the marks of.
Now he felt the weight of Spock on him again, as he had earlier, only this time it was the press of something else against Jim’s leg that had his attention. Spock twisting that strip of leather around his neck, his breath coming faster, eyes fever-bright and hardly seeing him but Jim knew, he knew, that Spock knew him, could see, could feel him respond as his hand moved faster and in his mind Spock dropped the ends of the ahn-woon and sank his teeth into Jim’s shoulder, suddenly bare, as the rest of him was, and Jim bucked up against him, feeling Spock’s hard cock pressed against his back and he was ready, waiting, his body begging to be claimed even as part of him fought to turn around, to turn over, and do the claiming himself. Spock pressed him into the glittering sand of Vulcan, the heat suddenly welcome, matched by the hot hard length making its way inside him, in Jim’s fantasy welcome and open as Spock pounded into him over and over and Jim just tried to hold on under the onslaught, vision dimming, and in his own hand he lasted an amazingly short length of time before spilling over his fingers and belly, the spell broken, an odd, unfamiliar shame settling over him as he cleaned himself up.