captainpoppins (captainpoppins) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2018-01-28 17:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | yondu udonta |
Who: Yondu Udonta
When: Late January
Where: His front porch
What: Mulling over the Dreams, drinking
Rating/Warning: PG-13 - References to a brothel, drinking
Status: Complete
Yondu frowned at the sunset. He really wasn't looking forward to nightfall, especially after last night's set of dreams. They were old ones, dreams he hadn’t had since Peter had been living in the OC. Then after those had finished, he’d been given a boatload of new dreams that made his head feel like it wanted to explode.
It was why he was sitting on his front porch, a cold beer in one hand, his other hand resting on the Yaka arrow at his hip. There were already three bottles scattered about his feet among the faded boards. He had half a mind to just turn off the image inducer on his wrist but knew that a big blue dude knocking back a few Buds would get more than a few stares from the neighbors.
“Damn place,” he growled, taking another sip from the dark bottle. He'd dreamt a crap ton of stuff which had unravelled like a movie in his mind's eye: he'd chased Peter and that damned Orb halfway across the galaxy to Knowhere, only to be thwarted by the arrival of that dick Ronan, a Kree fanatic. Chaos unfolded and he had no choice but to return to his ship with the rest of the Ravagers and just wait the whole thing out. If Peter survived the ridiculous firefight he'd just grab him and take the Orb. Then beat the hell out of him or kill him to show his men that level of betrayal wouldn't be tolerated.
And that was precisely what Yondu did. Peter made it to space and the dumbass he was, nearly killed himself trying to save the green skinned assassin Gamora. Lord knows why. Sure she was a pretty thing, but a pretty thing that could and would cut your sack off if you so much as glanced at her sideways wasn't worth saving in his opinion.
But the worst of it was when he dreamt of carrying out the very threat he’d been breathing against the boy all along: beating the hell out of Peter in front of his own crew and going so far as to nearly killing him. Yondu was still shaken at the thought. In this life all he'd wanted to do was protect the knucklehead and keep him on some sort of straight and narrow. And here criminal dream version Yondu nearly put an arrow through his neck - even if he was betting on Peter pulling something out of his ass to save his skin last minute. Which he did, of course.
Still. He'd been a whistle away from killing the closest thing he'd had to a son. It just wasn't right. Dream him was a touch insane.
Yondu kicked his feet up onto the half empty case of 12 pack beers and sighed. The sky was a vibrant mix of oranges and reds bleeding into the slowly encroaching darkness. The colors reminded him of the Milano, Peter's ship. Yondu smirked as he remembered Peter's excited look at 10 when he'd been told the ship was all his. That had been a good memory from the dreams.
After saving grown Peter he'd been convinced to help them save the Galaxy by taking on Ronan who was hell-bent on destroying Nova Prime. Sure, let's save the jackasses that had thrown each of them in jail at least a half dozen times, why not?
Of course Yondu demanded assurances he'd get the orb back at the end of everything, and made the mistake of believing Peter would keep his word. Which he didn't. No wonder his crew got pissed at how many chances he gave that boy. Instead of the infinity stone he'd been conned and Peter had left one of his Terra tokens - an orange haired Troll doll.
“Jackass,” he said, but it came out in a huff of laughter instead of anger. Boy was the same in the dreams as here in some respects. He drained the bottle and cracked open a new one.
He had a headache the more he thought of the dreams. The new ones were just as odd as the previous ones: it started on some sort of planet called Contraxia at a brothel called the Iron Lotus - a stop over for Ravagers to relax, refuel and get their rocks off. The place was literally filled with pleasure robots. Or androids. Whatever. It was strange dreaming about bumping uglies with things like that. Neena would probably laugh at the whole thing if he ever told her.
Of all things Stakar, the man who had saved him from slavery at the hands of the Kree all those years ago, had shown up. It was not a happy reunion. While Yondu had demanded Stakar’s exile end due to a misunderstanding to why he’d helped Ego and kept Peter, Stakar had stood his ground and in front of his Ravager faction and Stakar’s, reiterated that he was exiled and there was no way in hell even when he died that he’d get the traditional Ravager send off.
That had broken Yondu’s heart beyond all measure. Banishment was one thing, but not getting the Horns of Freedom and the Colors of Ogord displayed after he died was going too far. Not that he’d let it show, of course. He’d stood there and seethed at the man’s back instead. As if fate enjoyed slapping him around, opportunity presented itself: a strange golden woman named Ayesha suddenly rolled up (literally with a red carpet) and offered he and his crew a convenient bounty: the Guardians of the Galaxy. Peter and his crew had done something stupid and now the woman was willing to pay handsomely for their capture. Yondu didn’t hesitate, but once they’d tracked the Milano down, the only thing he’d found was that damned Rocket raccoon who’d outsmarted a huge chunk of his crew. Having the rodent at the pointy end of his Yaka arrow, Yondu had been in the midst of trying to convince his crew not to bother with the bounty the Sovereigns had offered when they could sell the Anulax batteries Rocket had stolen from them instead for a quarter of her bounty. After all, if they got the Guardians killed, they’d have to deal with the Nova Corps being on their asses for the rest of their days. It was at that point he’d woken up.
Yondu didn't want the sun to set, he didn't want to dream anymore. He had the feeling it might not end well and the carryover of emotions was exhausting. Plus he was waking up grumpier than usual and was worried parts of his dream personality might be crossing over again. He sighed and looked at the bottle in his hand. Maybe if he drank himself into a stupor his brain wouldn’t be able to function properly enough to dream. Putting the bottle to his lips, he could only hope so.