CHEKOV, PAVEL

independent, selective, aos PAVEL CHEKOV

[wemultitudinous]

WEMULTITUDINOUS

Multi-muse featuring muses from The Last Kingdom, Dragon Age, The Witcher, Hamilton, BBC Merlin, Leverage & more!

[terminalwelocity]

storminmywake‌:

He’s been trying to keep himself busy since the attempted Auton invasion of Earth. More specifically, he’s been trying to forget her. Ever since she had turned him down, his mind for some reason kept looping back to that one incident and he didn’t understand why this was eating away at him more than usual. So he went about throwing himself into adventure after adventure. But even he couldn’t keep that pace up forever. Feeling the need for some down time, he’d been aiming for something peaceful.

Only, the TARDIS was refusing to go to said coordinates. He had thumped the monitor, argued both verbally and telepathically with his ship, but no matter what he did, he kept finding himself in the cargo bay of some sort of spacecraft (he wasn’t paying attention to the details), with the Old Girl saying nothing more than something wasn’t right. After the fourth attempt of trying to forcibly bypass these coordinates to get to where he wanted to go and STILL winding up where she thought he needed to be, The Doctor gave up. 

“I don’ get you,” he grumbled to his ship as he checked the monitor for the environmental situation, as well as time period and location. “I go runnin’ head first into adventures, an’ you gripe at me fer not takin’ it easy, for no’ bein’ more careful. But the moment I want somethin’ quiet, you throw me a mystery!” The TARDIS gave a loud, insistent, brooking-no-argument - (almost grumpy) - sort of hum. The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Alri’, alrigh’! No need t’take tha’ tone with me. I’ll check it out.”

And out into the cargo bay of a 24th century human star-ship he went. He was, admittedly, curious. He’d only heard tell of Humanity’s Federation period; he’d never been there himself. So the fact that he was walking the halls of a star vessel from this period already significantly lightened his mood. (He might have to apologise and thank the Old Girl at the end of all of this). Using his sonic, he accessed the ship’s computer, pulling up as much information as he could and browsing through it (at speeds a human could not follow): Crew registry, ship’s logs, captain’s logs, nav logs–

Hm. That was strange. It was just a blip in the nav logs, but… Damn. It looked like he needed to access the bridge to get to the navigation station in order to be able to study it properly. 

Once on the bridge (and that had required a bit of jiggery-pokery; thank Omega for the sonic), he went to the station and immediately began to study the situation further. The Doctor was rather engrossed in studying the information, and so failed to hear the door to the bridge opened and someone else stepped in (from his recon, he had assumed that everyone would be on shore leave). He did turn around in his seat when he realised that he was being spoken to.

“Oh, hullo!” He greeted with a wide grin. “Jus’ checkin’ out the nav logs t’make sure everythin’s ship shape. Heard there had been a spot of trouble…” 

Pavel is surprised to hear it, and regards the man with wide eyes for a long moment. After Sulu had laughed at him—it’s a ship, Pavel, it can’t just decide to go somewhere else—he had kept the problem to himself, mulling it over in an attempt to find some explanation that might make sense, and preferably that didn’t involve his own mind playing tricks on him. But perhaps Sulu had mentioned it to the Captain, who had asked the engineers to take a look. 

“—yes!”  he exclaims, too relieved to have been believed to be suspicious at the man’s lack of uniform. He hurries up to the console, and without asking leans over the screen to pull up a record of the corrections he’s been making.

“I am the navigator,” he explains intently, still focused on the screen as he calls up a projection of their course and sets the computer to modelling the variations that he had noticed. “I began to notice variations in the ship’s course—very slight, but consistent. And even when I corrected the course, it would drift back. There are no faults that I can see; engineering has reported no issues that might explain it. It is as though—”    

He bites back the words. It’s one thing for his best friend to laugh at him, but he would rather not give strangers the chance. So he locks his teeth around the suggestion that the ship has a will of its own, or is fighting against their programming.

“This is why I am back here,” he explains, collapsing into the seat that is usually occupied by Sulu, and switching his gaze from the screen to the man sitting before it. “I could not stop thinking about it. Have you worked out what is happening?”

[terminalwelocity]

fasciinating‌:

it is a fascinating subject. & fortunately for BOTH of them, Spock has derived & already concluded an answer for his young counterpart, if only to hasten matters of lesser importance at this time. “ ah. ” he says, adding a NOTABLE inflection of harmlessness to his forthcoming advice, “ it may be helpful to know, not only is such a concept possible, the gravitational pull between bonded pairs is also likely to increase the size the HABITABLE zone; thereby, allowing life in that system more apt to develop.” in any other instance, he would have preferred the outcome to be have been WORKED OUT naturally. he regrets the passing of its teachable moment, pausing in thought, “ now. in terms of the away mission. ” Spock angles at Pavel slightly as he walks, “ it is interesting you are of SIMILAR opinion with Captain Kirk in regard to its overall success. ”

The briefest of pauses stretches out as Pavel considers the answer he’s given, and fits it to the data he has been examining, adjusting conclusions and calculations as he works backwards.

“Yes. Yes, I see,” he says, and when he continues he seems to be almost talking to himself. “There must then be some fascinating implications for the development of space travel in such systems; the complexity of engineering required to achieve trans-orbital travel would lead much earlier to the necessary technology for travel beyond their own system.”

He tucks the thought away to muse upon later when Spock returns to the topic at hand. He hesitates to answer. This feels like a trap: either way, he must disagree with a superior office, both of whom he greatly respects.

“Well, sir,” he begins, hardly noticing that he clasps his hands behind his back in an unconscious imitation of Spock’s own posture. “My briefing covered no particular course of action, only a goal and a basic plan. As far as I am aware, this goal was achieved, no? Perhaps there were further objectives of which I was not aware?”

[terminalwelocity]

bornbreathless‌:

She grins, a touch of mischief in her eyes as she responds “Only for you, Pasha.” Which is mostly true. She’s usually well-behaved unless he’s around, a fact which most of the engineering crew could attest to.

“The Captain did make it official, he wouldn’t have promoted you at all if he was going to take it away again. Do you really think he’d be that cruel?” It’s a trap, of course, either he insults the Captain or he accepts his permanent new status, and Char waggles her brows in a checkmate! before pulling him gently toward the turbolift. “Come on, can’t be late to your first Lieutenant shift.”

She knows just how to trap him, and he wavers for a moment, nose wrinkling as he struggles to find a retort to her logic that will not back him into a corner. There is none, and he follows her when she pulls him along without much resistance.

“It is only because everyone else is on the away mission,” he says, unable to completely bury the self-deprecation. It wars with his pride, his worry that this is nothing more than a necessity instead of something deserved. He takes a deep breath as they enter the lift.

“It is terrifying,” he admits, when the doors close and they’re alone, no possibility of being overheard. “Being in charge.”

[terminalwelocity]

surlymccoy‌:

         The encouraging smile on Leonard’s lips falters, and the doctor cannot help but blink as Pavel abruptly slumps into the chair he’d previously shunned. Jesus, the kid looks like someone just told him Vodka wasn’t invented in Russia or something. Who’d gone and taken a pin to his balloon??

         “…yer unhappy….” The CMO echoes mildly, lofted eyebrows gradually easing back down his forehead to their customary position of exasperated concern. “….okay… Well, yer correct that I am the ship’s certified mental health specialist, so it does fall under my duties…” 

        Leaning back in his seat, Len props an elbow on the arm of his chair, tapping his chin as he considers the navigator, “…but more’n that, Pavel, I’d like t’think we’re friends. If y’need someone to talk to, I’m more than willing to listen.”  

       The words are sincere. Len, who doesn’t generally care about peoples’ feelings, finds the thought of Chekov stewing in unhappiness to be… discomfiting. The kid deserves every reason to smile, especially after all they’ve been through in the last few years. 

Unhappy.

It’s a word that doesn’t do justice to the expressive misery sketched across Pavel’s entire being. Shoulders slumped and limbs loose, mouth corners turned down and the dark sweep of his byzantine lashes turned towards the floor. When Pavel feels, he seems to feel far more dramatically than the average young man.

“Yes,” he murmurs with a sigh. “I suppose we are friends.”

His fingers toy with one another for another long while, digits tangling and curling. He seems disinclined to speak, for all that he head been the one to seek out Dr. McCoy, and to ask for his help. Then, all at once, it seems to come pouring forth.

“My father died last year,” he says, all in a rush. “You know this. And for a time I was very sad—horribly sad. I did not eat or sleep and all my dreams were of him, and Captain Kirk made me take leave, and I went home to my mother and she was horribly sad, too.”

None of this is news to the doctor, Pavel suspects. He had been so laden down with grief that he had made himself sick, had felt it growing in him like something malignant. 

“But then I came back,” he says. “And life has carried on.”

And there it is, unmistakable emotion sketched across his features: guilt.

[bidoctor]

Seriously though, on a scale of one to ‘we’re all going to die’ how f**ked did you think we were when you found out I’m just a beard in a Sergeant Pepper uniform?

[terminalwelocity]

bornbreathless‌:

“You must have told her a lot of very nice lies about me, then,” she teases, trying to ignore the warm feeling in her chest at the thought that he talked about her to his family. It’s nice, in a way that she isn’t quite prepared to unpack at the moment. Maybe later, alone with her thoughts, but not now with Pavel smiling brightly enough to blind the sun.

For now she drops a kiss to his cheek, untangling from their dance only to link her arm through his and start guiding him toward the living quarters.She has no doubt that he’s going to want to tell her about everything he did during shore leave, all the people he talked to, and she’d rather be sitting down for that. “Maybe I’ll meet her next time. We’ll see.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want to meet his family, after all, that’s just…a big step. No-one’s ever introduced her to their family before, which has always been fine by her, but it means that it feels like a bigger deal than it probably is.

“Every lie I could think of,” he confirms with a grin, playing into her teasing with nothing short of delight. “That you are a good Russian girl, and that you are a world-famous doctor, and that we met when you were heroically saving the life of a puppy, with whom you now solve crimes.”

He follows her tug on his arm with a spring in his step. He loves his family and his home very much, and is always deeply happy to return there—but the enterprise, her clean lines and her crew, are where he really belongs.

“Next time,” he says, like maybe is a promise and he intends to hold her to it. “For now, she has sent a great many homemade sweets and bottles. I do not even know what is in all of them! She has forbidden me from trying them as they are all for you and Sulu. And for Captain Kirk, about whom she worries.”

He’s grinning at that; a constant source of amusement for the crew is Pavel’s mother’s fondness for Captain Kirk, and his determination to mother him at all costs.

[terminalwelocity]

bornbreathless‌:

She snorts, cracking one eye open to grin at him as he sits up. “Go ahead, but I can’t climb a mountain if I have the Bends.” All that joint pain isn’t conducive to such strenuous exercise. “You’ll have to carry me.”

Char stretches with a soft groan before sitting up, reaching for the pile of clothes ready and waiting near the bed. “How far is it to this place again?”

“Then I will carry you,” he says, and even as she’s reaching for her clothes, two deceptively strong arms close around her middle and pull her upwards, free of the sheets tangled around her. He spins her, aiming for laughter and half-expecting a thump along with it.

“It is only a seven mile hike,” he tells her when he releases her, dropping her back onto the mattress. “Barely anything at all; but it is beautiful enough to walk a hundred miles for. This, I can promise you.”

[terminalwelocity]

@fasciinating

Sometimes, he wonders at the long series of perfectly placed events that have led them here, so convenient as to seem supernatural in their own right. A sceptic and a believer, both scientists, led step by step to this time and this place, together.

Curious, how their shared experiences have bred such opposed outlooks. In the study of physics and astrophysics, Spock seemed to have found logic and order and a satisfactory explanation for everything he could wish for. Pavel had found—in the empty spaces between atoms and the void between stars—a dizzying crossover between science and superstition, questions with no answers and answers whose questions were far from the theorems and proofs he had learned by rote.

He thinks sometimes that he must be the only man in the world with a degree both in physics and paraspychology.

The world of ghost hunters, he has found, is one of conmen and desperate people, too eager to believe. Scientific equipment is misused more often than it is used; basic tricks knowingly employed or unknowingly believed. On his first hunt, he had watched the lead hunter unscrew a flashlight far enough to loosen the contacts and turn off the bulb, and witnessed the elation in the group when a request to switch it back on seemed to have been fulfilled.

He had explained about the heating and cooling of metal parts, contraction and expansion completing and breaking a circuit at random interval. They had asked him, firmly, to leave. But over the years he had developed his own sets of tests, his own well-tested equipment and procedures, and had asked for the help of Spock.

The man might not believe in ghosts, but he certainly believed in the scientific method.

And year by year, hunt by hunt, little pieces of evidence had gathered and coalesced and confirmed in his mind what he already knew in his heart: ghosts are real. Whether they are the souls of the deceased or the imprints of beings in some higher dimension, whether they are imprinted energies or impossible truths, he doesn’t know.

But he’s determined to prove it to the world. For now, though, he’ll be content with proving it to Spock. And so here they are, chasing Pavel’s months and months of research to the old shell of a mining town gently collapsing in a forgotten spot of Arizona. The silence in the truck as the engine dies is almost deafening.

    “Well,” Pavel says, checking his watch. “Here we are.Perhaps two hours of daylight left; we should be able to get the equipment set up.”

[terminalwelocity]

legiion‌:

“ beat it, kid. ” McCoy waves his hand, half slouched on a log with the last of his bourbon in hand. Things like these, they were precious. And he ain’t of the mind to share. “ no offense. ” @terminalwelocity​     /     apocalypse au. 

     “Mr. Kirk said you were in a bad mood,” Pavel says, completely ignoring the instruction to beat it, and instead settling down next to the doctor, gaze trailing across the white-freckled expanse of the darkening evening sky above them. “And I said, Mr. Kirk, I too would be in a bad mood if everybody kept saying I was.”

[bornbreathless-a-deactivated202]

[terminalwelocity]

bornbreathless‌:

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989, 43 women around the world gave birth.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He didn’t get this one.

Indie TUA original character OC/AU/crossover friendly Established 03/04/2019 Loved by Stitch

[terminalwelocity]

alright, queue will spit out a couple of things a day so the dash isn’t flooded. i’ll be around tomorrow sending & posting memes etc, so hit the like button if you want me to go thru your meme tag and send you memes!

[terminalwelocity]

fasciinating‌:

            HE FEELS A GLIMMER OF warmth in the name, even if he doesn’t think he knows it. once, Spock would have attempted to recognize it amongst his prior knowledge, when things like what papers someone had written or how many UNESCO awards were on someone’s wall, mattered in terms of prestige & glory in a community of only the best scientific minds. it’s not an insult to the younger man that he doesn’t, or perhaps, can’t remember. but after everything, those things don’t matter anymore. not when science, as he knows first hand, as he has tried & failed, could not save them. not a single person. not any better than the people who have made a home in these woods, offering safety & refuge to those who need it, to those who cannot help themselves. to Spock. & as it were, Chekov, too.  still. Spock appreciates this moment. its intellectual nature. it gives him a sort of personal satisfaction to find hope by way of curiosity, in someone other than himself. he imagines they will get along just fine. granted they live long enough to do so. ❝ a pleasure, Pavel Andreievich. ❞  Spock pivots, glancing away briefly to set down his cup on the lip of rock behind him. the heat from his drink evaporates in an instant, his fingers stiff, though his stomach growls. he hasn’t eaten since this morning & it would be rude not to partake in that which he’s been given.  ❝ i was the computer, bio-engineer, astrophysicist kind. ❞  Spock peels the bar from its wrapper, tearing it in two. he presents the piece between them.  ❝  & you? given your question, i surmise you were involved —  or at least interested in related subjects?  ❞ 

Pavel shuffles closer, and hesitates before he accepts the half of the bar that has been offered him. The man is hungry, no doubt, and Pavel had intended him to have the bar to himself. But then again, Pavel is hungry too—teenager, growing boy, when is he not?—and the act of sharing a meal feels ritual, somehow.

Plucking the bar from Spock’s fingers, he breaks a piece off to lift to his mouth chewing slowly and feeling only a little guilty. His face lights up at the revelations that have been presented. 

“Well, I am at the start of my career of course,” he says, not catching what he so often doesn’t—that he speaks about this lost life in the present tense, as though nothing has changed. Perhaps they think it is some oddity of his English, or perhaps they pity him too much to correct him. Either way, the bad habit persists. “I have not yet specialised fully. But my focus has been on astrophysics, with a leaning towards aerospace engineering.”

Hie eagerness, often described as ‘infectious’ before the term began to sit like a condemnation, exudes from every pore. There are days his fingers itch to build or to sketch out complex calculations. Sometimes they get their hands on paper and pens, and he does just that. Then a sort of fixed melancholy settles over him, and he sighs heavily.

“Of course, the stars are not so helpful to us now,” he says mournfully. “Perhaps if we had managed to leave the planet—do you know the ISS is still manned, up there? If they are still alive, of course. Perhaps one day they will be all that is left.”

A moment of quiet, thoughtful chewing as he stares up at the night sky, the speckle of stars that are clearer now than they ever had been, chasing back the once bright glare of roads and cities and civilisation.

“Bio-engineering, however,” he says, when he remembers himself. “This, I think, might be useful, no? Of course without a laboratory—no, no. I am being silly again, of course.”

He looks embarrassed. Clearly, someone or other has scolded him for this line of conversation before. For a hope or determination which cannot be fulfilled to do something more than simply survive. To help.    

[terminalwelocity]

bornbreathless replied to your post:

Me, looking at drafts that are over a year old: I see no problem here

you get me. in my soulplace. <3

[terminalwelocity]

storminmywake replied to your post: 

Welcome back, friend!

THANK. i literally have a reply open for you in a tab and i am... so sorry about the wait lolol

[terminalwelocity]

i am working on replies and i am very aware that some of these replies are from like, six months ago. if something pops up in your activity and you’re like wtf, i already abandoned that thread to the graveyard, then please don’t feel obliged to try and resurrect it!

also, if you want a new thing, then tap that heart and i’ll either tag you in something random or drop into your ims for plotting.

[terminalwelocity]

new rules for this blog, important, please read:

call pavel ‘pasha’ he is desperate for close friends and misses endearments

hug him he needs it

ruffle his hair??

protecc him at all costs

not adhering to these important rules will get you BLOCKED