â  i think engineering might be my first love, and iâve always heard it said first love is insatiable.  â    â¨Â   @chekoviing    !
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    â  i think engineering might be my first love, and iâve always heard it said first love is insatiable.  â    â¨Â   @chekoviing    !

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chekoviing replied to your post: I'd swallow a comet for you and that's final
Deepthroat deep space for ur friends. True romance.
.... i must inform my boyfriend of these new romance standards brb
â You only have two pairs of pants! â
QE SENTENCE STARTERS | @chekoviing !
HE BLINKS a few times at first, leveling perplexed gaze with the young officer, âSo? How many pairs aâpants do ye need in space?âÂ
chekoviing replied to your post: someone give me a circus au.
my fair ass, kicking down your door; liSTEN UP
u better slide into my dmS B O I
chekoviing replied to your post: chekoviing liked your post:pavel chekov: speaks...
u mean she sees his stomach because heâs towering over her ����
thatâs it pavel sheâs calling ur mum she canât help sheâs four foot nine donât judge her like this

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chekoviing liked your post:pavel chekov: speaks willow kirk:
she sees you
pavel * / @chekoviing
                      HE  IS  YOUNGER  THAN  SHE ------  younger,  perhaps, but there are moments in which he stands taller than a mountain,  in which his eyes glaze over with wisdom she cannot begin to grasp. she is young too,  and they stand out on the bridge, between spock and sulu and mccoy,  two kids thrust into the middle of the battlefield.     (  YOU ARE TOO YOUNG TO KNOW THIS PAIN,  the moon says to the comet,  and they both become stardust  &&  rust and beautiful beginnings.   /   too young but not enough, when they have touched the edge of the galaxy with trembling fingers and swallowed stars for breakfast.  )        days grow into nights,  and bleed back into days and the weigh of it,   the cyclic battle of wits,  as if colossi gather the fabric of time to rip,   hangs heavy on delicate shoulders.   she sees it mirrored in his eyes when their gazes meet across the bridge,   haunting.  haunted.   out of all her friends at the academy he remains the sole breathing being,  all the others lost to her,   taken  by the vastness of space.
           she ought not make a habit out of this, but does so anyway.  the shipâs night harbinger of demons,   the door to his quarters opens with a quiet hiss.   it is late   (  or maybe it is early  )   &&  she counts her breaths until the stillness of the room beckons her in.  she stops once again at the foot of his bed,  pillow clutched under one arm along with her padd,  the fingers of the other brushing across the frame,  as if she is not quite sure what she is to do with herself,  even when this exact scenario has repeated itself again and again every wednesday since the battle of vulcan,  like clockwork.     spock needs space.   she needs to grasp something solid to remind her of survival.  pavel breaths,  and this alone is anchor to her tattered heart.     â i brought the princess diaries. â       an offering of sorts. it is her turn to choose the movie after all.    â i would have gotten popcorn but the replicators wonât be fixed until tomorrow morning and everything tastes like chalk. â
Iconic ( I love vines okay what can I say )
send me the word âiconicâ and iâll send a vine that describes our muses relationship
my cinnamon apple vine