you know what actually sounds really selfish? people who want to add gun control that would deprive people of the tools necessary to defend themselves. That is absolutely selfish.
it wouldn’t deprive anyone of anything, actually. People are under the false impression that gun control will ban all firearms. It won’t, it’ll just make them harder to obtain. Things like mental health checks and area based gun codes will make it harder( but still possible) to get a gun. See Austrailia. I don’t want to take anyone’s guns away from them, I want people to be able to protect themselves and be unafraid, bu I also want school children to stop dying at their desks. I know that gun control won’t stop all mass shootings, but maybe it’ll reduce them. I want people to stop dying. I want the number of people killed in schools and movie theatres to reduce. Is that really a bad thing to want?
AU where Jim is a pirate and Leo is a prince who gets kidnapped by Jim and his crew. (Double points if you add in Jim giving Leo his nickname)
"Damnit kid stop moving."
"For a man with such nice clothing," James laughed raucously, hiding his flinch as a soft finger pressed into the puffy, red-purple skin under his rapidly-swelling eye, "you sure have a dirty mouth." The brash blond leered, much to the dark-haired stranger’s annoyance. The man brushed his fringe out of his eyes and leaned back, letting moonlight fall across Jim’s dirty face from the half-curtained window. He snorted, rubbed his thumb against a streak of dried blood on Jim’s cheekbone. Jim made an undignified sound close to a squeak- a bump in the road shook the carriage hard. Jim, already dizzy, knocked his head against the wooden paneling with a dull, painful-sounding thud.
"I’m not a physician by name or practice," the man rumbled in return. He had a low-pitched voice, remarkably soothing. Well-bred from the accent, which only made his earlier slip more entertaining.
"But you know how," Jim pressed on, curious. (Always curious.)
"I had to do something with all my spare time,” the stranger grumbled, seemingly satisfied with the lack of dark fluid against his fingers.
"I usually drink for that," Jim laughed, his electric-blue eyes twinkling in the low light.
The man snorted, pushing his thick hair back again. “Where do you think I was headed in this outfit, kid?” Jim couldn’t quite divine the meaning of that. His clothes were unremarkable by tailoring or shape, but they were still of distinguishably fine material. Did the man think he could blend in like that? Ah well, let him dream. “By the by,” the brunet tacked on, tilting his head slightly, “do I recognize your face?” Jim, thinking of the sketches of his countenance by the docks, merely smiled.
——————
"Bones."
"Excuse me?" the man groused, eyeing the younger blond from where he had stretched out on a red velvet settee. Grinning widely, bright-eyed, Leonard’s visitor came closer. He crouched by the end of the seat, propping his arms and chin up near Leonard’s feet and beamed at him with a sort of calm radiance.
"Bones," Jim repeated, laughter light in his voice, bright blue eyes creased. It might have effected him differently if he wasn’t overcome with roiling nausea. It was too heady to be explained by a hangover- or at least nothing like any hangover he’d ever felt. Whimpering pitifully, Leonard rolled onto his stomach, arms trapped under him, and squeezed his eyes shut. The settee seemed to lurch beneath him and he groaned sharply, desperate to keep his lunch in. Not that he’d had lunch. What time was it? ”As in sawbones, obviously- since you don’t seem to want physician.”
Leonard struggled for a moment, pushing himself to sitting. It seemed that he had been unburdened at some point, and was now in only his woolen breeches and his thin undershirt. He remarked with great confusion the state of the room around him. It was tight, small, heavy with the smell of the sea- and the sound of it, too. His blond companion- James, was it?- was barefoot, clothed in little more than Leonard himself. The room seemed to lurch again and he felt himself turn pale.
James’s expression fell slightly. The younger man looked apologetic, licking the crack in his bottom lip. “Ah- seasick.” He bit at a jagged thumbnail, looking contrite. His expression cleared quickly as he stood again, clapping a hand down on Leonard’s shoulder. “Well, don’t you worry, bones. You’ll get your legs in no time! I’ll go get you breakfast!” He spun on the spot, slipping out the small wooden door with cheer obvious in his gait. “I’ve always wanted a physician!”
——————
He shouldn’t like it here, with them. James- Jim- 'Call me captain,’ he said once, winking, but only laughed when Leonard, Bones now, actually used it- had stolen him away in the darkness, gotten him too drunk to see and dragged him home. He should hate it. But how could he? He’d gotten his sea legs, just like Jim had promised. The first mate was a ridiculous man from a far-off place, pale skin and dark eyes, all stiff professionalism. The man who often took the wheel, despite Jim’s position, had been born in the Americas but had the coloring of a man from the Far East, and there was no man more of a natural swashbuckler on the seas. The Navigator was a crazed young Russian, drinking harder than anyone- even drinking Scotty, a sort of carpenter that kept Enterprise sea-worthy, under the table. And there were women on this ship, too, a Carol Marcus that took care of their arms and a dark-skinned beauty, Nyota Uhura, the goddess of diplomacy- the reason they always had rations and a sound port, no matter what language needed speaking.
They were family more than he could understand, having brought up by nannies and tutors, dragged in the light only for official functions. They were home. And here, he had a reason- he was useful. He’d never wanted anything more than to take care of his people, and here he could. He’d been on the seas less than seven weeks, but he had no wish to be elsewhere. Especially not when, in the darkness of late night, Uhura’s melodic voice drifting in through the open porthole, the salty breeze scenting the air, Jim Kirk slipped in with a bottle of rum and a wicked gleam in his eye to settle for sleep, Bones.
After all, the captain had so kindly given Leonard equal share of his cabin. For a man of gentility, he’d added, winking. His smile had been saucy. Leonard had lost count of how many times he’d woken with the young man’s cheek pressed against his bare stomach, snoring away. He could, however, count the amount of times such an occurance had bothered him. To be specific, ‘none.’
——————
Captain Jim Kirk was an enormously social person, as were most of his crew. Most of the time they touched shore found the Enterprise empty except for the physician and the first mate. They left each other mostly alone when Jim wasn’t about causing trouble, and to be honest Leonard enjoyed the quiet to read. He didn’t feel comfortable going to shore, anyway. What if someone recognized him?
Sighing, he settled on the red settee, bare feet kicked up and a slightly water-damaged volume in hand. After a moment of squirming, he sank comfortably into the cushioned seat, turning the page.
He was so enraptured by the book that he didn’t hear the door open, nor the unusually soft footsteps tred closer. A cool touch jerked him out of his haze and he nearly leaped, scrambling to sit up properly, his heart beating twice its usual speed. “Jesus Fucking Christ Almighty, Jim,” Bones spat out, pressing a firm hand against his chest and trying to regain his breath. “You seriously st-” the words died in his throat at the look in his friend’s eyes. “Jim? What’s wrong?”
The blond stood before him in dead silence. His mouth was half-open. He swallowed reflexively, trying to find words. His blue eyes were wild, sharp with pain. Was that fear? Bones had patched the pirate up many a time but he’d never seen him with such a face. Such naked sorrow had only appeared once, during his brief foray into trying to discover what had happened in the blond’s past to drive him to sea, about his father.
The book forgotten, Leonard pulled the captain to sit beside him, running his fingers through blond hair in a way he had discovered the boy found inestimably soothing. “Jim talk to me.”
Jim’s mouth worked uselessly for several moments before he swallowed, a flash of anger briefly crossing his fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
"What?"
"Uhura ran into some privateers. Fascinating conversation, she said. Gave me this." The captain brandished a paper at Leonard. It was crinkled heavily in his fist but the ship’s physician could still make out the important words- Prince Leonard McCoy, Capture, Reward-
“Jim-“
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
"You didn’t care about my past life before-"
"Your past life couldn’t get my crew killed before!” The Captain shouted over him. Shocked, Bones- Leonard- let his hand drop to his lap. The moment they were no longer in contact, Kirk shot to his feet. He paced the small space relentlessly, grinding knuckles into his temples. He muttered fast, hard things under his breath, here in there slipping into Spanish or Portuguese or French, just snatches of words in Caribbean dialects. He could see Jim making a decision, knew that behavior, and it squeezed at his chest. His heartbeat was erratic. He couldn’t breathe. He could barely hear over the ‘no no no no’ cycling in his brain.
Jim stopped in his tracks, whirling to face him, and Bones froze- waiting for the ax. “Okay- okay. We’ll bring you back. Nobody knows we’re here, and as long as the privateers haven’t found out- then maybe nobody’ll come after us.”
"Jim-"
"It’s that or we hand you over to the privateers here. They want the reward, they’ll protect you-"
“Jim-“
"We can’t exactly let you find your own way back, jesus-"
"Jim!"
"What?!"
It echoed between them, too loud. Flinching, Leonard hunched forward. His hands folded together over his forehead, keeping his eyes, his expression, shaded from Jim. Protected. “Please don’t send me back,” he whispered, shame burning his neck red at the vulnerability in his tone.
He could hear the captain inhale sharply but he refused to look up. He couldn’t. When Jim spoke again it was in a measured voice he had adopted from his second in command. Precise, careful, without inflection. “You can’t stay here. It’s a danger to everyone on the crew. We’ll be hunted down wherever we go the moment anyone gets wind of what sort of cargo we’re carrying.”
Cargo. Leonard flinched, his fingers gripping tightly, so tightly they were white and bloodless. He fancied that he had swallowed the pain noise that escaped him. His voice was almost gone when he spoke again, shuddering, breath rattling in his chest like a dead, dry thing. “Please.”
The answering silence tightened the vice around his chest. He’d be Prince Leonard again- stripped of the Enterprise, stripped of home, of family. Stripped of Bones. A body with no backbone, no skeleton, no soul. So-sure hands shook as he pressed the heel of his palms into his eyes, trying in vain to stop the stinging wetness.
He felt the hands on his knees and his head jerked up, wildeyed. Jim knelt before him, hands on him, high forehead pressed into pale hands, lashed by wind and water. Hesitantly, Bones lowered a hand to the man’s messy blond hair, running his fingers so carefully through short strands. Jim shifted against the touch, pushing his cool cheek into hands that had gone rough and calloused on the sea.
"I can’t, Bones," he whispered softly, keening. The sound of it twisted him into knots, Jim’s ache palpable. "If it was just me, Bones- god, I’d go for it in a heartbeat and hold on until they pried me cold from you- but I can’t ask my whole crew to stand on the line for what I want."
There was silence. Leonard had shifted gears entirely. He stared down at James Kirk with new eyes, tracing the edge of his cheekbone and the shell of his ear, finding the soft skin of his throat, gentle fingers tracking across the boy’s lips. Curious, confused by the change, Jim lifted his head to peer up at Bones with bright blue eyes. The physician breathed in sharply, flattening his palm against Jim’s cheek, long fingers cradling the back of his neck. “Surely you’re not surprised,” Jim asked, the first hint of a smile quirking the edge of his full mouth, “no one’s ever accused me of subtlety.”
"What can I say," Bones muttered, leaning closer, breathing in when their noses brushed, "I should’ve been accused of being blind."
———-
Though it was certainly true that they’d had a lot of practice fitting on Jim’s settee tangled together, they quickly discovered that such a task was far easier for drunken sleeping than (energetic, frenetic and frequent) …reassurances. (“I believe the word you are searching for is ‘sodomy’” Spock remarked later, much to Jim’s delight and Bones’s embarrassed ire.) The pair lazed on the floor, Jim mouthing sleepily at the bruised column of Bones’s throat as the other man stroked a broad hand up and down the captain’s spine.
"I’ll write my mother a letter," he remarked, tilting his head to the side as he observed the forming cracks in their ceiling.
Jim snorted. He propped himself up with an elbow, raising an eyebrow as he stared down at Bones. “That’ll never work.”
"Mm." Shifting his gaze to the man’s bright eyes, Leonard squeezed the man’s waist. "Maybe not. But maybe it will. They don’t really need me. The throne’ll be my brother’s anyway. He already has a baby boy and everything.”
Jim barked out a laugh. Grinning, Bones leaned up to catch his smile.
Jim missed the blue of the sky more than anything. More than food and more than their house, he missed the blue of the sky. He pushed the cart forward, watching Davie sleep as Bones walked next to him.
" It’s getting cold," He mumbled, and Bones nodded. Bones had changed in the past years. The...
I’m starting this thing off. I’ll write two to three paragraphs and reblog or tag someone else in it to write their own two to three paragraphs. The story gets added on to with the ideas and styles of other people and it’s really fun to watch it develop! Make sure to bold every other entry.
JIm knew he was in deep this time. He’d practically dug himself his own grave. The people wanted their money and he didn’t have it to give to them. He sat, his back against the brick wall as he panted, he’d been running through the dark streets of San Fran for almost thirty minutes, but the guys didn’t seem to care that they were in a car and he wasn’t. They pursued him with guns and knives and the intent to kill. JIm peeked from around the corner of the alley, feeling the cool steel of his own gun pressing into his hip. It was only a precaution, opened and everything, the most he’d used it for in the pas three months was a paper weight. The idea of using it on a person made his hands shake. JIm took a deep breath and darted out of the alley, only to hear a shot, then feel a sharp prick in his abdomen.
Somehow he was still running. He gun in hand he ran between buildings, grunting in his discomfort. It was late, not meany people were out in such a shady part of town in the day, let alone three in the morning. JIm wasn’t in his right state of mind as he ran into the street, making a beat up old pick up skid to a stop. He ran to the passenger door and got inside.
"Drive," He gasped, tighten the seatbelt over his wound to both add pressure and to hide it from the driver. " For god’s sake man drive." The truck lurched forward and Jim took a tiny glimpse to the person in the car next to him.
(Mcficlets) McCoy didn’t know what the hell was going on. One moment he wa relaxing in the relative quiet of his truck, the next he was being told to drive by a very bloody young man holding a gun. It was reflexive, his foot stomping on the gas pedal, but when he heard the muffled gun shots behind him he was glad he did.
" What the actual fuck-who the fu-no. What the hell is going on? Who are you, what are you doing why are you bleeding out all over my damned truck!?" The kid just looked at him, the glimmer of hi eyes and the growing red stain on his shirt to only real things visible in the poor orange light of passing street lamps. Leonard hated it, truly hated it but he sped up, looping around a few busy intersections and a traffic circle before actually heading in the right direction of home. If the thugs that shot the thug in his truck were following, he didn’t want to bring them to his house.
I’m starting this thing off. I’ll write two to three paragraphs and reblog or tag someone else in it to write their own two to three paragraphs. The story gets added on to with the ideas and styles of other people and it’s really fun to watch it develop! Make sure to bold every other entry.
JIm knew he was in deep this time. He’d practically dug himself his own grave. The people wanted their money and he didn’t have it to give to them. He sat, his back against the brick wall as he panted, he’d been running through the dark streets of San Fran for almost thirty minutes, but the guys didn’t seem to care that they were in a car and he wasn’t. They pursued him with guns and knives and the intent to kill. JIm peeked from around the corner of the alley, feeling the cool steel of his own gun pressing into his hip. It was only a precaution, opened and everything, the most he’d used it for in the pas three months was a paper weight. The idea of using it on a person made his hands shake. JIm took a deep breath and darted out of the alley, only to hear a shot, then feel a sharp prick in his abdomen.
Somehow he was still running. He gun in hand he ran between buildings, grunting in his discomfort. It was late, not meany people were out in such a shady part of town in the day, let alone three in the morning. JIm wasn't in his right state of mind as he ran into the street, making a beat up old pick up skid to a stop. He ran to the passenger door and got inside.
"Drive," He gasped, tighten the seatbelt over his wound to both add pressure and to hide it from the driver. " For god’s sake man drive." The truck lurched forward and Jim took a tiny glimpse to the person in the car next to him.
(Mcficlets) McCoy didn't know what the hell was going on. One moment he wa relaxing in the relative quiet of his truck, the next he was being told to drive by a very bloody young man holding a gun. It was reflexive, his foot stomping on the gas pedal, but when he heard the muffled gun shots behind him he was glad he did.
" What the actual fuck-who the fu-no. What the hell is going on? Who are you, what are you doing why are you bleeding out all over my damned truck!?" The kid just looked at him, the glimmer of hi eyes and the growing red stain on his shirt to only real things visible in the poor orange light of passing street lamps. Leonard hated it, truly hated it but he sped up, looping around a few busy intersections and a traffic circle before actually heading in the right direction of home. If the thugs that shot the thug in his truck were following, he didn't want to bring them to his house.
My musical just ended, I was in Beauty and the Beast for all who cared, and now that it's over I'll be able to write more. Show week rehearsals normally went until ten am and with school the next day I never got to write anything for you guys :(
so sorry about that. And if you'd like to see pictures of the production, ask, I'm happy to supply
Jims head was pounding, and his body was on fire. The sweat accumulating on his skin was making him shiver. He heard voices, two, a woman's and a man's. he tried to listen to what they were saying, bu he was having trouble understanding.
" His temperature is 102. 5, Spock. We have to get him down to the creek." there was some rustling and a sigh.
" I dont understand why you're helping him. You should have just called the hospital." He was being lifted up off the ground and it hurt he wanted to scream but he could move, couldn't open his eyes. Only listen.
" I have my reasons, okay?" The man said something else, but Jim lost consciousness once more and didn't hear him.
Jim was sick, dying actually. Dying from a spider bite he'd acquired during his travels. I knew what I had to do. I saved him once, and I couldn't do it again. The universe had it's rules and even I have to follow them. So, I gave kirk a choice. He had to choice to live, or the choice to die. Not many get that. But, you see, no matter how hard Kirk fought, it would be futile. I have learned this in my thousands of years of writing and living and watching the human race, I have learned that they are nothing. AS a whole they are nothing, a speck, worthless. THe have no role in the universe, except to live, and live for themselves. Even the most generous human is still give to nothing but what is on their own little earth. THe worst thing is most don't even know They don't know they're alive for no reason at all, most have no clue. The ones who do are sad and angry and bitter and it makes their hearts cod and hard. Jim Kirk had a heart softer and warmer than fresh dough. But fresh dough ie easy to burn black.
Jim woke a second time, and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw were the green leaved of trees above him. Sun was shining through them, and a green tint touched everything he was surrounded by. He sat up and looked around. His eyes fell on a caramel skinned woman chopping the hell out of some wood.
" Well look who's finally awake," She said, a bit out of breath. She set down her hatchet and dusted herself off.
" You've been out for a while. Bit by something I think. Good thing I knew how to take care of it. You would of died." A man walked out of a camper tat Jim was propped against holding a plateful of eggs and bacon.
" if he hand't already form that fal. I still can't understand how he lived through that." Jim looked at the two, a bit scared and a bit confused.
" uh...uh..." His voice was hoarse and unused. he rubbed at his eyes, only to find that his arms felt like they hadn't been used in weeks.
" Don't worry. Take it easy." he was being handed a glass of apple juice, and Jim realized that his mouth felt like it was full of sand and his stomach felt like he hadn't eaten in a week.
" Thank you," He breathed, once he was able. " Who are you?" The woman stood and smiled gently, but the man just stood, looking cold and expressionless.
" I'm Nyota, and thats my husband Spock. We live out here?" Jim nodded.
" It must be nice, living in such a beautiful place. Seems a little lonely, though." Nyota nodded.
" It can be. Here, eat something." Jim took some eggs and Bacon and wolfed it down, feeling better and better by the second.
" How long was I out, and uh, how can I pay you back. I only have a few bucks on me." Nyota shook her head. 'That won't be necessary. You were out for about three days. We found you over at the waters edge while we were on a walk. I thought you were dead." Jim shook his head, just thinking how upset Bones would be if he knew.
" Well..thank you. For everything. I'll be going as soo as I'm able." Jim finished his eggs, only to be served more.
" You don't have to leave too soon. You need to hang around for a day or two. Make sure you have your strength. It would be completely illogical to go back out on the road now." Jim raised and eyebrow at Spock, but nodded
" Thank you, I will. Are you sure there's nothing I can do to repay you?" Nyota nodded.
" Don't worry about it. This is what we do."
They were what some called hippies, or hermits, or gypsies. Spock and Uhura were kind, loving people who actually understood the was the word worked, and they made the best of it. It was from them Jim learned his place in the world. But, while Jim was lying near dead in their camp, John Harrison was moving in on McCoy. NOw there were dinners and late nights out and movies. McCoy seemed hardly to notice that Harrison had gone from private investigator to significant other in the span of two months. That's it. JIm was gone two months and Harrison was drooling over McCoy ike he was some sort of steak. He was constantly around the house with McCoy, and David James knew him as well as he knew his acting father.
Jim left Spock and Uhura after a week of hanging around their camp. he helped with everything he could. Firewood, hunting cleaning up. But he couldn't stay there, he had to move.
" I'm leaving tomorrow," he'd said at dinner running a hand through unruly long hair and sighing.
"I have to go." Uhura had sighed and crossed her arms, Spock's shoulder had slumped, and Jim had felt like something terrible.
" I know you do. And I know nothing I say will stop you, but promise me one thing." Jim had raised a brow, waiting for her reply.
" Instead of calling yourself Dirt...call yourself Earth. Thats what dirt is, isn't it? Its soil, nutrients for trees and flowers. Earth makes things grow." Jm had been hit with such a sudden wave of emotion and longing for Bones he nearly choked.
" yeah..I'll do that." he remembered the odd looks he'd gotten when he'd introduced himself, and he could help but wonder how long Nyota had thought bout it.
But that was days ago. Jim was walking again, in the rain. His feet hurt like hell, and he was tired and cold, but he'd made a decision. It was time to stop all of this. I twas time to go home to Bones and make amends and try to apologize for being gone for two months. He knew Bone probably wouldn't want him back, but he walked any way. We walked and he wouldn't stop for anything until he was back in georgia.
Ill say this now, and make it clear. I didn't created evil. HUmanity did that all on it's own. John Harrison, one of the most deplorable beings I have ever laid eyes on was nothing more than evil. But he was a good actor. He told McCoy he loved him at a restaurant over dinner. he gt the mad to take off his wedding band. he got McCoy to kiss him. I never ike McCoy, not with Jim Kirk, but I couldn't see this man die at the hands of a sadist. THe Sadist Harrison truly was.
Jim walked until he couldn't see straight. Until he wasn't exactly sure what day it was or where he was going. He stood on the side of the road, confused. Then a car pulled up. It was a police car, and suddenly Jim was filled with panic but his limbs were to thick and sleepy to do anything for him.
" C'mon son, get in the car. You're not in any sort of trouble, just wanna protect you is all." that sounded pretty good to Jim, so he got in the back of the police car and sighed. his feet throbbed, and he could see bloodstains on his socks.
" PIke here, I got a guy who needs some help. He looks homeless, sick and hungry." Jim rested his head against the window and closed his eyes thinking about how strange it was to hear another human voice after four days of being alone.
I need help. If anyone out there want to be a part of McFiclets and help with prompts that would be great! I have tons of prompts to do but I'm only one person, plus as Narrated by Fate, and it's a pretty huge work load. So does anyone want to come help out? It would be greatly appreciated...
Thanks for the prompts! I'm getting on them, and they should all be filled within about two days. Any more prompts I get at the moment wont be answer for a while as break just ended and musical is approaching, so there's gonna be a bit of a slow down. Thanks for the prompts!!
gummygunk
blakekathryn
dailybridgerton
izzy806
yousharknotpass
stormborns
kaledo-art
