#didntmeantomutiny

It was at times like this he wished the doors on the ship weren’t automated. Slamming one would be very, very cathartic right about now.

Yondu sighed as the door hissed closed behind him, temporarily leaving him alone in his quarters. He scrubbed his hands over his face and moved further into the room, leaning heavily against the farthest wall.

‘Overseeing disputes’ was one of the many duties he had as Captain; the Ravagers may be a collection of scum and criminals, but a clan still had to operate as a whole. Everyone goes off killing each other over the smallest things there won’t be a clan for long.

So, when shit does come up, the solution is simple; if the Captain can’t solve it, it’s settled in a brawl. No guns, fists and small knives only, preferably not ending in death but hey shit happens. Someone wins, someone loses, case closed. Easy fix to a problem, entertainment for everyone else.

Unfortunately, thanks to the oh-so-lovely abilities granted to him by his DNA, it was less entertainment and more a goddamn migraine. All that excitement, the anger, the mirth, all bleeding out from everyone around him all at once. 

Yondu grunted, massaging his temples in a bid to make the ache go away. At the very least, the pounding had subsided now that he was somewhere quiet; but the dull ache in his head and sharp pain when he moved his eyes would last for a few more hours.

Fuck.

“Fuck.” He grumbled, not looking up as the door hissed open once more. Only one other person had unlimited access to his quarters; his First Mate, aka the one that was least likely to murder him in his sleep.

Peter isn’t a screamer. He doesn’t come awake with a violent jerk of limbs or anything dramatic like that. Eyes fly open, short, sharp breaths catching in his lungs and bouncing around painfully. 

He wasn’t even there when they lost the rest of the ship, but that doesn’t stop his mind from filling in the blanks. 

A lightning storm. The boom of explosions. Fire everywhere, heat bubbling his skin and destroying what little memories he had left. Bodies floating in cold, dead space. 

{☆} “I still do not L I K E you.” 

                                        Gamora’s shoulders remained T E N S E--despite the                                         fact that she was simply expressing                                         G R A T I T U D E and not venturing into B A T T L E.

“But you were--A R E Peter’s family. And...Thank you for S A V I N G him.”

“kraglin. what’s up?” stitch set aside the blowtorch after switching it off, removing the dark goggles shielding his eyes. a stretch of leather was set on the table before him, supposed to be some sort of flame retardant material. “cap’n send you to check on this?”

AVPS

“No, no, you’re right, it’s real serious.” Kraglin’s got some stamina issues, is all. He can get the arrow going just fine, sure. But just for a moment — he lets go too soon.

kraglin overuses filters like whoa