it’s a Depression Day so you’re getting fic snippets in a vague attempt to boost my self esteem through notes and interaction
Kree child-slaves, as a rule, weren’t expected to live through puberty. Their collars came one-size-fit-all. Over the years, Yondu’s had strangled him slowly, cutting into his larynx until his voice was a half-high, half-growled husk. Hearing himself speak on recordings still grated, but by now, he was used to the sleazy huffer-addict’s croak. Plus, it acted as a fabulous deterrent for karaoke nights – always a threat with Peter on your crew. He couldn’t complain.