#still‚‚‚ i'll miss the funky big bugs so much

[fuckyou-saidtheraven]

Intellectually I know that the cgi budget of HDM s3 has to be spread out very carefully in order to accommodate everything that happens in the third book. I remember having a lot of concerns about the budget for a potential s3 way back when the show first aired seeing the general lack of dæmons walking around due to the budget constraints of animating them all + the witches, the bears, and the arctic scenes. And there’s a lot that happens in the Amber Spyglass that needs cgi to pull off properly. Ergo, i understand that they have to manage their budget carefully, prioritize things where they can, and know where to cut things out where necessary.

However I am still very put out by the fact that the dragonflies don’t seem to be in the series.

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

No Place Like Home 💜

Dedicated to @marvelpotterlove 💜 Thank you for commissioning me and trusting me with your fic. This is a five part series. Reader is a single real estate agent in Cali. There will be fluff and mild drama. Also, this is super late but I got you and I'll make up for it. Word Count: 3,662

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Part 4: Break Some Eggs

At sunrise, Erik rose ready to stunt on the obnoxious trio he now referred to as the three stooges. Climbing from the top bunk he quietly hit twenty pushups, up and down quckly.. careful not to wake the sleeping beauty before grabbing his grooming kit and the mismatched red washcloth and blue towels he’d borrowed before Y/N fell asleep. She’d knocked out looking at listings and checking her emails. He didn’t expect anything different, she was a functional workaholic afterall. That was her whole bit. Heading to the empty bathroom while the house slept, he got started on the hygiene portion of his morning routine. He had to get in there before people started acting crazy over bathroom time. This seemed the type of group to fight about stupid shit. Under the hot stream of the shower, he thought through the day ahead. Today would be the bridal shower and bachelorette party. He’d go to the bridal shower to buffer whatever he could but she’d be on her own at the bachelorette party. What could he tell her to get her through? What scenarios would pop up to go wrong? Between work, her family, and these events what the fuck has she done to alleviate stress? She need to take a walk. Not in this crackhead neighborhood, but in Central Park or some shit.. a garden.. with flowers. Wrapped in the dingy blue towel, he popped his golds back in and moisturized his beard before a knock on the bathroom door interrupted him. He cracked it prepared to turn on his charm, but it was just the old man. He’d been missing from the welcome crew yesterday, but if anything it answered Erik’s question about his relationship with Y/N. It was nonexistent. What kind of childhood did she have? He had to wonder. Also, what happened to her actual dad?

"You must be Y/N's stepfather. I'm Erik," he opened the door wider, holding his hand out for the old man to shake, but unsurprisingly no handshake came. Erik's hand withdrew, his eyes still warm.. assessing.

Breezing into the bathroom and closing Erik out without his shit, the man began to gripe in bitter-man fashion, "Whole street know that by now..." It was muffled through the door, but that part was clear enough for Erik to hear. Old ass passive aggressive nigga. The spladow of a morning dump let Erik know to gone head and walk away. Stepdad had a bug up his ass just like the rest of the house, but it couldn’t be personal. It was a personality flaw and as long as stepdad stayed in his funky ass lane there would be no issue. Making his way back to the room he shared with Y/N, she was still peacefully sleeping. He silently pulled on his black joggers, his white Lost Tribe hoodie and his white Nike air max 90's before heading downstairs to activate his plan.

An uber took him to a nearby market where he bought a few items to make a grand breakfast. He was in and out, already aware of what he'd make and how long it would take. With the proper time management, it would be simple. Back at the house, he shook his head at the entrance. It was truly an ugly mothafuckin house. He wondered what Y/N’s house in Cali looked like. Hopefully she didn’t live this way. With her career and style, it wasn’t likely that she did. Anyway, none of that mattered at the moment. All he cared about was the kitchen. Stripping off his hoodie, He made sure the space was spotless before he cooked. Pancakes, fried eggs, potato hash, fresh strawberries and grapes, bacon, sweet blueberry muffins, and a few omelettes with homemade salsa. He poured champagne into four glasses, mixing it with orange juice and decorating with a bright orange wedge on each glass before starting on cleaning the unoccupied soiled dishes. He hoped the fam would be brought downstairs by the smell of the heavy food hitting their noses and he wasn't disappointed. A thud of footsteps came down the stairs, and he listened as they approached the kitchen. Throwing a quick glance over his shoulder, he could see that it was stooge number three, Jamira, and by the glint in her eyes.. she was checking out more than just the breakfast spread. He hid his annoyance, facing forward to wash a plastic bowl he'd used to mix batter in.

"Good morning, bride to be. You the first up?"

"Yerrr. Call me Mira and it looks that way. Whatcha cooking? Smells good in here." She walked forward, grazing his bare side with her fingertips, propping herself on the countertop to lean over him as he washed dishes. Touch barrier broken, here we go. “I love a man that cooks,” she gushed. He watched her eyes slide hungrily from his eyes to his lips and her head tilted, her stiff hair moving with her as a unit. Looked like a sew-in, but it could've been a wig. As her attention shifted to his exposed chest the volume went up in her mind making the questions and interest in her eyes loud. She obviously wondered about the markings but he didn't plan on answering not one of her questions.

"You hungry?" He tried to shift the atmosphere. Her thirst was obvious. She could lust from a distance as much as she wanted as long as she didn't touch him.. again.

"I am hungry, but I what I really want is what Y/N had last night. That shit? Whatever that was sounded delicious." He looked up at her bold comment, eyes low, judging and assessing. She held his gaze steadily. She was dead serious, coming onto her blood sister's man like a homewrecker. He’d expected her to test his loyalty to Y/N to see if she could come in between, but nah the look in her eyes went beyond that. She dead wanted him, he could feel it. Erik felt bad for the groom. His fiance was a rip. Did he know what type of woman he was marrying? The kind of family he was joining? Every moment with this family raised more questions. Maybe she was the type to want everything her older sister had, men included. Maybe she felt like her sister had the best life and this was her way of feeling special.

“Guess Marcus ain't hitting it right," he mumbled. Looking her up and down, he couldn't find anything she had that Y/N didn't. Nothing but the love of her family. It sickened him because he knew exactly how it felt to be an outcast among his own, fighting to make something of himself while they sat comfortable and united among themselves. Not even oblivious, but uncaring and cold. "Trust me, sweetheart. You couldn't handle all the freaky shit I be doing to ya big sis. She can barely handle that shit."

"TRY ME. She can’t hang because she a rough draft.. very rough. But I'm the final copy." Her long finger stroked a keloid on his large bicep, touch barrier broken yet again. It was starting to irritate him. He didn’t take well to being touched without his permission.

"Final copy my ass," he snorted. She blinked in surprise. She didn’t expect him to fire back at her. "You into metaphors, let’s do metaphors. You a rewrite with typos, but you found a nigga to marry you who’s illiterate and doesn’t care about all that.. so do yourself the favor and don't fuck that up messin with me." He honked her nose with his wet hand and she swatted it jumping down from the counter.

"Okay nigga, but I'm vigilant and I always get what I want. Deadass." Her hands went to her tiny hips confidently and his eyebrows rose. She wasn’t giving up, it was crazy. If anything his outburst made her thirstier. He couldn't help but snicker, his laugh sputtering as his knees went weak. Always.. Until now.

“C-c-c-combobreaker!” She frowned, not liking that but he found it hilarious. "You better want that weak dick nigga you marrying and sit down. I'd break yo lil ass in half. Here." He fixed her a plate and sat it on the table for her along with one of the mimosas. "Eat that and chill. Please." Of course she wouldn't chill. She had zero chill. He felt her eyes hard on his back muscles and a second set of footsteps approached. He did a double take as Y/N appeared in the tight black tank and red plaid pajama pants she'd changed into last night. It clung in all of the right places and his thoughts went straight to getting in them yams. 

"Morning Love," she smiled, looking him up and down with equal thirst. He could feel his lips turning up in response and he nodded, a come hither look in his eye. Electricity fizzled in his veins. This was her effect on him. She came closer, encircling his waist with her soft arms and he rested his head against hers, her satin bonnet still in place. She smelled like hairspray but she was warm. After a quick, sweet peck on his lips she stepped away, releasing his wait. Her eyes were trained on her sister who rolled her beady eyes into her glass. Of course.. the smile, the hug.. it was just for show. Y/N looked back at him with a sneaky grin that simultaneously lifted and crushed him. The attention was for show and that greeting smile.. It wasn't even about him, she was only smiling because her sister was jealous. Her eyes lingered on his, concern lingering as she tried to decipher his mood. He pushed warmth into his eyes to ease her mind. Afterall, she was happy right now and that was all that mattered. He took her plate to the table and sat her across from stooge number three . He didn't need any subtle daggers ruining an otherwise quiet morning. Jamira seemed to be behaving and keeping her mouth shut as the two ate in silence. Suddenly, more footsteps approached. Larry and Curly.

"Who is in my damn kitchen cooking my gotda-" the rough and rasping voice fussed before pausing in the doorway. India. Erik smirked as her sentence cut off, noticing Iris' eyebrow raise in silent communication as if to say ‘Shut up’. India returned the gesture. Handing Iris her plate and mimosa, he met her shameless eyes with a "Good morning." She gripped the drink quickly, but her hand lingered on the plate for seconds, not grabbing it. She was stuck, staring dead at his face. He flashed his charming grin, watching her eyes go to the flicker of light reflecting off his bottom gold fangs. If she were to push her with one finger, she'd probably fall dramatically to the floor in a puddle. She finally took the plate and moved to the side, her eyes sliding to abs and crotch in his joggers now fully soft. Resisting the urge to shake his head at all the thirst in the house, he fixed India's plate next and handed it to her. She looked like he'd handed her a bomb. "You in here wasting my gahdamn groceries? Leave it to a nigga to come in here and fuc-"

"Ma'am..,” he called and she paused mid-rant, focusing on him. As irritable and bitter as she was, that thang between her thighs and her eyes still worked. She wasn’t immune to his charms and she could use her brain to observe that she ain’t have no champagne or oranges in the house before his arrival. “Do I look like a broke ass nigga that need to use my girl or her mama shit?" His eyebrow raised daring her to lie as he crossed his bulky arms. She looked at him and then into the plate, hesitant before taking her ass to the table to sit. Within seconds, she started wolfing the shit like it was edible cocaine. "Taste good?" He asked with a teasing smirk causing her to catch herself and slow down. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she remembered her table manners.

"Who taught you to cook like this," Iris, clearly humored, asked between loud wet smacks of pancake. It was a basic ass breakfast honestly. Pancakes, meat, eggs, potatoes, and mimosas and they were eating it up like it was gourmet.

"My daddy," he said fixing his own plate. It was the truth he didn't wanna elaborate on. With the exception of Y/N, they ain't deserve it and if she really wanted to know she could ask him herself.

"Your daddy?! Well. Is he single?" Iris swirled her glass. “What do you do for a living, Erik,” India interjected. “You get those bedroom skills from ya daddy too? I might need to--” “IRIS. Hush! He wanna date my lil nappy ass daughter, I need to know what he has going for himself. Lil’ boy.. what do you do for a liv--”

“WHO MOVED MY MEDICATION,” a loud gruff voice yelled from upstairs. “IT’S IN THE DRAWER,” India yelled back. “WHERE MY MEDICATION,” the voice yelled again. “DAMMIT IT’S IN THE SAME GOTDAM--” India jumped up grumbling and made her way upstairs.

“Anyway.. I need to get ready for my bridal shower. Aunt Iris, help me choose a wig.” Jamira sighed lifting from the table and Iris followed suit, heading toward the stove. On cue Y/N spoke up, “Erik, while we’re gone would you mind--”

“He’s not your slave, Y/N. He’s a man.. but OF COURSE,” she paused as though remembering something important, “Wow, you never could keep one of those, could you?” Her frown was mocking while Iris spit the swig of champagne she’d stolen back into the bottle, laughing. Erik watched Y/N’s eye twitch as her younger sister made her dramatic exit. She popped her head back into the kitchen briefly to invite Erik to the bridal shower, sending him a wink and dropping her eyes in attempt to locate a dick print before disappearing again.

“Chill out,” Erik whispered to Y/N once they were alone. “Consider the source and don’t let their bullshit get to you.”

“Why does everyone hate me here? Did I do something? I just don’t get it..”

“No, no. It’s not you. Sometimes people have issues within themselves.. Different flaws and shortcomings, regrets.. and they take those out on you. It’s not your burden to bare. The only thing you’re responsible for is keeping yourself healthy and mentally clear. Look at me.” She was slow to look up, still in her head. He had to grab her chin and turn it. “I know what I’m talking about, okay? It’s them. It’s not you, you have nothing to prove to anyone. But if you keep absorbing this negative fuckin energy it’s gonna be you too. Do you want that?”

“Hell no,” she growled looking a bit more present.

“Gimme that growl a lil bit louder. Do you want that negative shit in your life?”

“HELL NO,” she yelled with the fire of a hellcat. It made his dick twitch. He knew what he was getting into tonight.

“DAMN RIGHT,” He barked, watching her exhale a long calming breath.

“Did you eat anything,” she squinted.

“Not yet, but I got time. I just gotta change clothes, I already took my shower. It’s just you and your funky ass family that gotta get cleaned up.” 

“Yeah, okay,” she grinned. “You can wear anything just make sure you actually put on a shirt. The way these people thirst around here, won’t nobody be able to focus.”

“These people? You mean you and your family? I thought you were gonna bite me the way you were staring.” He flinched for comedic effect and her gaping expression was priceless.

---

The three stooges piled into their small van together, Jamira offering Erik a ride and completely ignoring Y/N's presence. They all treated her like an afterthought.

"Let's just blow it off and you show me your New York," he whispered in her ear pulling out his phone for another uber. She shook her head and pulled him into the van. He was irritated until she gave a silent vicious scowl that let him know she was still growling on the inside. She wanted to go to the shower.. So they went.

The car pulled up to a brownstone in Bed Stuy. Once inside, there were ribbons and streamers tied everywhere and balloons littered the floor. "Cousin. Cousin. Family friend. Marcus' mama and sister.. and then I don't know," Y/N nodded subtly at the women in the room answering Erik's unspoken question. Women old and young, mostly young filled the living room and kitchen space.

"Cheap crystal, no effort decor, and bad appetizers.." he whispered in Y/N's ear as he bit a mozarella cheesestick. Wasn't a fruit or vegetable in sight. It was a culinary and aesthetic disgrace.

"Don't forget the flood of FashionNova," she added lowly.

"Why we here again?" They could've been at the park, at a restaurant, a movie, anywhere else where they could be alone.

"You mean you don't like free champagne and hors d'oeuvres?”

"Erik! Come," Jamira waved, the double meaning in her words lost on no one. Only Y/N saw his deep eyeroll and she touched his cheek in support. He crossed the floor to where Jamira stood with few other women. "Yeah, he's staying with us for time being. He came for my wedding, so no he's not the stripper," she sounded disappointed.

"That's too bad," one said, drunk off of champagne. "If only he were single," another said looking him up and down in full view of Y/N.

"Oh no, I couldn’t be single. I love my baby too much. Baby!” He called out and Y/N caught the hint, coming to his side. “This woman is my future.” A quick nudge in the side and Y/N was on board. She rested her hands on his shoulders as his wrapped around her waist.

“Yes, I can’t be without this man. I’m sure y’all know how it feels when someone loves you so much you can see your life in their eyes,” Y/N smiled, her eyes innocent of malice. Erik knew better. She was as shady as he was. Shots fired. He was proud. Whisking her away from the group to the middle of the room, he rocked her back and forth, swaying to the new Lil Wayne music like it was a waltz. Her bright eyes were alight and he knew she was enjoying the moment, completely stress-free.

Then the party games came. Guessing how many skittles were in a jar, Bingo, and a bride and groom trivia. That last one got spicy, the groom’s sister and mama was there so where most people didn’t know personal details about the man, Marcus, his family would overshare shit that they shouldn’t have. No one needed to know when he was potty trained or that he stopped pissing the bed when he was twelve.

“Hold on, hold on y’all. We here for Jamira,” India rasped, her words slightly slurring. She must’ve been lit too. “Everyone here for Jamira, it’s Jamira’s day, but her big sister finally came back from across the world and I think we should acknowledge her here too. She brought a man, over there. You see them all close like they engaged.”

“MOM,” Jamira hissed. Erik watched the outburst from his seat. Y/N was comfortable leaning against him, close. She didn’t move a muscle.

“What? Jamira, I just need to know what the boy does. He been all up in my house and I still don’t know. When is a right time to ask?“

“Oh my god, not now!” Jamira looked at her future in-laws apologetically. She was trying to show a better side of herself and her mother’s all too honest outburst was a setback and an embarrassment for her. Erik wondered how the groom saw her. Apparently she was into hiding shit. A look at Y/N confirmed his suspicions. Jamira wasn’t herself around her fiance or his family. He shook his head, keeping it between him and Y/N. India’s eyes went back to Erik and he decided to answer her. Why not?

“Alright,” he shrugged. “Sup everybody, my name is Erik. I own a restaurant out in Cali and I’m also a chef.”

“Yeah, I go there all the time. That’s how we met actually,” Y/N added. It wasn’t a lie.

“How long you been together? Both of you answer at the same time,” India challenged trying to catch her daughter in a lie. “Four months,” they both said without missing a beat and Y/N laid a fat kiss on his lips catching him off-guard. His expression made her giggle and in turn he smiled.

“Mom,” Jamira hissed again. She was pissed, but trying not to go off. Y/N was stealing her thunder on her day without trying. It was their own fault. The party went back to its original focus and India sat down to gossip with some of the other women.

“You ready to go yet,” Erik whispered. “No, I gotta stay and go to the bachelorette party. Everyone’s leaving from here to go to the strip club.”

“Yeah, about that. I already called the uber. I’m a head out and you enjoy yourself. Don’t get too wild.. Judging by your expression right now I don’t have to worry about that.” She didn’t look interested in it, but she still wanted to go. She was definitely loyal. He could respect that. “I’m leaving, but be easy and if anyone try you you can text me, call me, anything. I’ll come to you. Okay?”

She nodded and he kissed her on the forehead wishing her good luck before taking his leave. “Aight,” he said waving at the party on his way out. This next part, would be all Y/N.

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