didn't mean to do a mutiny

independent & semi-selective Kraglin Obfonteri

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

Sorry I've been quiets, work stuffs! Will be doing replies and starters over next couple days, so hit me up if u want thing, even if we already have things/s!

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

deepdowninyourmanbits:

Er–Kate isn’t so sure about his claim that he’s an anomaly for Xandarian’s because he is unusually handsome. Well–maybe he’s telling the truth, in which case she is going to assume that the majority of Xandarians are sort of terrifying to look at. Are they all scrawny, lanky things with metal capped teeth and strange rune tattoos?

If they are, it’s a whole planet of unfortunate looking aliens. In his defense? He had pretty blue eyes. So it wasn’t all a lost cause. She paled considerably when he suggested he didn’t have a spleen. Gross. “Well, the boys at Area 51 would find something interesting in you I’m sure, so like I said, try not to break into too many houses looking for shit to steal. Spending the rest of your life in a cold drawer with various bits of you scattered in jars in a lab would suck.” She rolled her eyes when he checked again to ensure her coffee machine was not broken. “I’m positive,” she muttered, gesturing to their cups. “See these? This is coffee, we’re drinking it, clearly the machine is not broke…” The same couldn’t be said for his head. Honestly–if aliens were searching the galaxy for intelligent life, they weren’t sending their best and brightest to do the scouting. His reaction to the coffee is damn priceless though and Kate can’t help the snort of laughter that escapes her at his expense. His expression is comedic gold–a horrified sort of disgust. “Here, relax,” she grinned, taking the cup from his hand before adding a bit of milk and a sugar. “A lot of people add things to sort of take away the bitterness, it’s not for everyone. Here, give that a taste,” she laughed, still amused by his initial response.

He’s still suspicious of the cup when it’s returned to him. He sniffs at it again, takes another hesitant sip. It’s not exactly pleasant, as such, but it’s less awful. Still, he slides it onto the countertop with no plans on picking it up again any time soon, narrowed gaze still fixed on it.

“Well, least I know I ain’t wrong now when I say that Terrans are weird.”

Poking people’s spleens, whatever those may be, and drinking hot, bitter juice from antiquated machines. No wonder they only came just the once, to pick up Peter.

Arms crossed over his chest, he leans against the countertop and turns his thoughtful gaze on Kate, instead of the coffee. From what he’s heard, this bunch are a little more advanced than string-and-stick weapons, even if they are running a little behind the rest of the galaxy.

“What’s with the ----”

It’s accompanied by a gesture, a terribly-formed impression of the position she’d held when she’d been aiming the bow at him.

       “No offence, but I got to figure a gun is better. Easier, too. Kills people deader.”

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

mexhanicisms:

“You don’t stick around this long for people who ain’t important to you, Kray.” Kaylee teased and takes a look at the red coats, too, happy that he’s found somethin’ that’s keepin’ him happy. Squeezed Kray’s hand gently and grinned. Who’d’ve thought. Girl on a farm and guy who was always movin’ about, best friends in the same area of work.

“I’m glad you’re happy.”

“Might do,” he contradicts. “If’n they paid enough.”

He surveys the people around ‘em -- his crew and hers. Lot of ‘em look more than a little suspicious, and there’s a swathe of ravagers with murder painted on their faces at the thought of teaming up. Sharing ain’t exactly their style, especially when it means sharing the prize. In the end, they’ll do what Yondu tells ‘em.

No one’s looking at them.

   “ -- you remember when we was young, and there was jobs to be done, and we’d manage to be somewhere else all afternoon?”

It’s a question. An offer maybe.

          Let’s go. Just for a little. Just like old times.

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

@whistlingcaptain [ from ]

“Who’s whining?” 

Shoulder rolls back where tension has been building in it, fingers clutched tightly against the grip of his gun at his belt. Couple hours ago, he was all loose limbs and ease. So much for easy; now he feels like someone wound him up tight, like a bowstring along his spine.

    “I ain’t whining.”

A grin is flashed toward his captain as he ducks his head, peers outside to assess their situation, and makes a quick decision on what he sees: namely, angry people. Lot of ‘em. And it’s not like they all got a right to be angry at them in particular, but he ain’t as thick as he might sometimes seem, and he knows which way the wind is blowing.

It’s blowing toward them, and it’s carrying the smell of something real unpleasant with it.

“Outta here seems like a good option.” Hand rises to flip a row of switches, one after the other; engines primed and landing stocks on standby, and -----

                  “Just say the word, cap’n.”

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

xnebula:

He says it like it means something ( blame it on the rough touch, the burred edges — the space in mind and heart where nothing soft exists ). 

Her response is silence at first, before her index rubs along the side of her middle finger; a small tell noticed only by those attentive. Rarely was there a step or beat out of place — can’t make mistakes, where mistakes get you killed. Clockwork almost, predetermined and predefined — precision key, coded into her blood and bones. She lifts her chin, jaw a little tightly pressed. Huh.

She works better alone. Most others considered dead weight — collateral damage in the making. Nebula could make an argument then and there with a question asked as a means to push him away once again ( but, it seemed — often too, that with every push and shove came a little more of that stubborn step forward ). 

Ah, and there it is, something understood that softens appearance enough for the curve of lips as shoulders loosen. “ Finally thinking with your head. ” Maybe she’ll stick around.  A free ride, quick intel, and a cover she can use for her own motive and desire.  

“ Well, I’m here because you’re useful. ” 

An almost, not-quite smile, he takes as a victory, and she gets a blinding grin in return. Probably says something about him -- giving more than he gets. Finding an inch, and calling it a mile, stretching every possible length out of it.

“I can do useful.”

Sure he can. Got not much else to do. Already, he’s found himself doing the same for Pete, for the others, all too aware that they ain’t got much reason to keep him around, excepting whatever bonds of family they can lay claim to. He doesn’t think Pete’d throw him off -- even despite what he’s done, despite any distances they got between each other -- but he’s not sure. It’s the uncertainty that drives him.

So he’s learning to use the arrow. He’s navigating and he’s piloting and he’s telling ‘em everything he knows -- safe ports and drop points and trading hubs, where to pick up information and where to sell it. Everything he did for Yondu out of ---- call it love, ain’t no-one here in his own head to mock him for it ---- he does now out of something like fear, maybe.

    “ ---- what’s useful?”

Because he’s got no clue what it is she wants. Thanos dead, that much he knows, but that seems like a crazy wish, like getting Yondu back. Drives you every day, but don’t mean you get it.

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

i’m going to try and write some things before i die but a heads up that i may not get much done bc ten minutes ago this is where i was at:

curse god bless shaun t and his murderous awesome workouts. double good when u follow it up with a separate abs workout & yoga cooldown because you’re an idiot.

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

me: today is a day for kraglin also me: damn it i want to write cute ship things

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

cannibalisticwhistler

LOVES ON AGGRESSIVELY

loves on more aggressively

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

heartarrxw:

The centaurian answered with a grin of his own, Kraglin’s quip about being ‘stuck with him’ doing more for Yondu than he would care to admit. 

Kraglin was the closest person to him, his most trusted; and while Yondu would never stop any of his men if they wanted to leave, he would feel the loss of his first mate keenly should it ever happen.

“What, ain’t lookin’ t’find a missus an settle down?” He teased, “Make a few babies, raise ‘em t’be upstandin’ citizens… ohh, maybe even join the Nova Corps?”

Yondu snorted, setting another finished bomb down on the table as he shook as head. They weren’t the fanciest things, but throw ‘em hard enough and they make a good distraction. Hard for someone to fight back when they’re on fire, after all.

“Sounds like hell t’me.”

And ain’t that a pretty picture?

Pretty unlikely, leastways. Hard to imagine leaving this life -- this ship -- leaving Yondu -- for anything, but most especially for that. For a wife and a job what has rules, for little kiddies running around and demanding some sorta responsibility and settled commitment. Ain’t exactly his kind of thing.

And anyway, he’s never been all that good with women.

So his captain gets a scrap of whatever Kraglin’s fingers find first tossed at his head -- not exactly devastating in its accuracy, but good enough to get his point across -- before he settles back further into his seat and sticks his feet up on the console.

“Well then, good thing we got ourselves a home right here.” He won’t say the word family, not out loud, but he knows that’s what this is, for all he might get roundly mocked for calling it that. “Day I join the Nova Corps is the day y’can shoot me in the face.”

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

custospericulo:

“I don’t think it’s a M A T T E R of whether she wanted you alive or not. You had no purpose to S E R V E her–dead or alive. She doesn’t just M U R D E R on a whim.” No. That was Thanos. Nebula, despite her M A N Y faults, was still her S I S T E R. If anyone else were to say things about her, Gamora would R I P the offender’s head from their body.

The Zen-Whoberi narrowed her eyes at the man, cracking her knuckles beside her hips. She understood that he was Peter’s last remaining ties to Yondu, but that didn’t mean that she L I K E D him. After all–here he was, pretending to K N O W her.

Absolutely N O T.

“I think I simply see things for what they A R E. Whether that is negative or positive, is entirely up to my interpretation. Like for instance–you smell like a dying A N I M A L and you should utilize the showers.” Gamora remarked icily, arching a thin silver brow. It was code for ‘leave me alone before I cut your arms off of your body and use them as weapons.’ 

Gamora was a woman of simple tastes after all.

“See?” 

He grins, like he’s just won a point in this argument, the silver-flash of his teeth bright in the dim-lit interior of the ship. “She don’t just murder on a whim. Said it yourself.” Proof that she could be, for want of a better word, nice. Proof that she’s a person too, that she deserves something like Kraglin’s respect. Proof that whatever she’d been doing, getting all those people killed, she’d had her reasons, whatever they was.

Kraglin likes her. Can’t help it.

“I always smell like this,” he says, conversationally, no sign of having been offended by the observation. After all, he knows pretty well that it’s an accurate enough description. No point keeping clean, not out here. Not when you end up dirty again soon enough. Best to just ---- settle into it. “Anyway, showered last week.”

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

selflessdoctor:

Simon gives a huff reply. Why would he lie when he has a gun? Then again, people apparently did all kinds of strange things. The doctor took a long moment to watch him before he moved his hands, emptying out his pockets. Mostly it was hair bands and little things he had found for River. She liked it when Jayne braided her hair so he figured why not give her something so he could stop using Simon’s rubber bands. “There. Checked. And low and behold, I don’t have anything.”

Simon was being a little rude for a guy who was at gun point. But it had been a long day.

“Guess not.”

Kraglin sorts idly through the stuff that gets unloaded from the guy’s pockets, but there’s nothing of value there. Nothing even all that interesting. But then he tips his head and grin fails to fade, optimism not yet gone.

     “So how’d you get here, anyway?”

Where credits are lacking, where there’s nothing of interest to take, they’ll always settle for a ship. Nice ones, they’ll fly for themselves. The not-so-nice ones, they cannibalise, strip ‘em for parts to keep their own fleet in the sky.

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

[ i have retuuuurned! i’ll be working on replies on and off all day. will try to get things done but also i have already been hella productive over on mal so idk how may words i have left. we shall see! ]

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

what is your anger type?

You love to run your mouth. Verbal abuse is your weapon when your angry. You can come across as bold and intimidating and know exactly what to say to hurt somebody. Nobody can win an argument against you and most will avoid getting into one with you in the first place!

tagged by @heartarrxw

tagging: whoever would like to do thing

[deepdowninyourmanbits-archived]

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

[ what up friends: note on activity!

i'm heading out to work a big academic conference for the next six days. that means twelve hour days and crappy hotel wifi connection when I do eventually crawl back home.

so basically, don't expect me around until next weekend, and also pray 4 me. ]

[ruinsbuiltarchive]

crutchiee:

sirlightbulb:

finding out the heights of your internet friends is always the weirdest thing

reblog this with your height in the tags then we’ll all know

[didntmeantomutiny-blog]

deepdowninyourmanbits:

“Told you–you’re not the first alien to decide to make a pit stop on Earth,” Kate shrugged. At least he didn’t seem as hostile as the others did…not bent on enslaving the human race or anything. “And I know Peter–aliens don’t all have tentacles and six eyes. Apparently those from Xandar look pretty damn normal, unless you’re an anomaly.” Kate considered his question about whether she was worth much and shook her head. No way. There was no one out in the galaxy that would pay enough for her to make a kidnapping and ransoming worth his time and effort. “Naw, no one is going to pay you for me…sorry ET.”

She paused before she followed his finger and shook her head. “Uh no, definitely not taking that with you. Besides, it’s not actually an antique, it’s a coffee machine…and if you take that? You and I are going to have to like, duke it out.” Nope, no way is he messing with her coffee supply. Kate pushed herself up from the arm chair, moving to flick the machine on before she rested against the counter top, still watching him closely. “If you’re looking for old stuff, try antique shops or pawn shops, you can usually find obsolete junk there at low prices…Like I said, breaking into people’s houses and surprising them like this? Yea, the feds will show up and you’ll end up with your own spleen in a jar beside your head after they strap you to a table in some classified location. A few moments later she moved back towards him, placing a hot cup of coffee in his hands. “Here—uh, welcome to Earth I guess.”

“Sure I’m an anomaly,” he says, all modesty. “I’m unusually handsome.”

Grin reveals crooked, silvered teeth, and skinny chest is puffed out in a mockery of arrogance, somewhat spoiled by the fact he’s still clutching a clock -- and the fact that he ain’t a bit serious. 

He’s heard of ET -- has a strange collection of Terran references courtesy of Peter, none of ‘em particularly well-explained. Only what a kid could provide. From what he remembers, there’s something about a weird looking alien, and a flying bike. He doesn’t know enough to argue the nickname, so he just bypasses it entirely.

“Why, it that important to you?” 

Now he’s just downright curious. Clock is abandoned (for the moment) on the couch, and he moves to examine the machine which -- whatever Kate says -- looks pretty antique to him. He doesn’t touch, though, because he likes his skull without an extra hole in it, and she seemed pretty serious. He takes a step back as it makes a quiet noise, a little suspicious of it.

“Don’t know what a spleen is,” he says, conversationally. “But pretty sure I ain’t got one, so at least that’s somethin’.” Still, he gets the idea. Only it ain’t that effective a threat, since he spends at least fifty percent of his time with someone wanting to rip various internal organs out and beat him over the head with them. Risk of the job.

He takes the cup cautiously, smells the liquid inside it -- not unpleasant, but unfamiliar, and takes a sip, his face almost comedic in his grimace at the bitterness.

      “ -- you sure this ain’t broke?”