Imagine Loki being absolutely terrified of butterflies because on Asgard there are none, so when he’s got a window open in your house a little yellow butterfly flutters in and lands on his nose. At first he doesn’t seem fazed, but when Loki’s eyes focus on the tiny being…all he sees is a monstrous thing with large eyes and black limbs flickering in front of him. He gives out a shrill scream and runs under the nearest bed’s covers, which is how you find him after coming home. Only he’s armed with a fly swatter.

Here’s my take on the butterfly imagine I sent on Sunday! I believe this yellow butterfly will continue to haunt Loki in this dreams. Anyways, I spent just a few minutes on this bc it didn’t seem like a too complicated image and I do hope you’ll like this little doodle from me! 

Imagine Loki being absolutely terrified of butterflies because on Asgard there are none, so when he’s got a window open in your house a little yellow butterfly flutters in and lands on his nose. At first

@klanced he is a fuckboi who lives on the beach of course he wears socks w sandals he probably has this group of White Fuckboi friends who got him into it and his mom was like “no…. not my baby boy…. not my son…. not like this” and his grandma, ever the optimist, was probably like “well, it could be crack cocaine” and his mom was like it might as well be

Sparks Fly,


Deena froze, every nerve in her body coming to a complete standstill. Multicolored light from the plasma TV mounted up on the wall flickered across her unmoving features, but Sally’s mixed-up feelings for Harry were the least of Deena’s worries. Her eyes flicked nervously around the dark living room. Her parents gone for the weekend at one of her father’s corporate dinner parties, Deena had the house to herself, and the slight but distinct noises coming from the foyer were freaking her out.

A horrific scenario flashed before Deena’s eyes: Robbers, clad in black, creeping up to the front door of her parents’ large, rather luxurious-looking home. Mistaking the unlit windows and empty driveway for an unoccupied house, they pick the door and stalk in, as quiet as cats and as sinister as snakes. They are surprised when they discover her, cowering under her blanket on the couch in the living room, as they hadn’t expected anybody to be home; but they are hardcore, merciless, and they don’t think twice about—

Deena violently shook her head to dispel the images and gathered her wits about her. No, that wouldn’t do; she refused to stay on the couch like a coward when there could be villains outside her door at that very moment, minutes away from charging in and ransacking her beloved home. She decided to call the police after she had incapacitated the criminals—that way, there was no chance of them making off. Forcing her muscles to move, she turned the volume down on When Harry Met Sally and pondered on what weapon she could use to face her attackers (well, potential attackers). Her father’s baseball bat was in the garage, and there was no way she could reach the garage without alerting the burglars of her presence. Drawing on the vast plethora of books that she had read for help, she peered towards the fireplace, and then sighed in annoyance. They didn’t even own a fire poker. Honestly, her family.

Deena squeaked involuntarily as the rustling, tapping sounds coming from the foyer increased in volume. Trying not to panic, she desperately wracked her mind—and then, as eloquently as if a light bulb had gone on over her head, she was struck by an idea.

Going as quietly as she could, she crept along the corridor leading to the front door and gently eased open the door of the hall closet. Three months ago, her mother had gone to China for a business trip, and had thought that it would be utterly hilarious to bring back an electric flyswatter—a medium-sized, tennis racket-shaped object that promptly electrocuted any small insect that came into reach of its electricity-charged wire meshing. They had used it a couple of times for a laugh, swatting at bugs large and small that entered the house, and had watched them die in a spurt of electricity with a certain fascination; but after a while it had gone into the hall closet, and hadn’t been seen since.

Now, Deena drew it surreptitiously out of the closet from behind the rain boots and clicked it on, watching as the wire came alive with a low whine and a stray blue-white spark. While she seriously doubted that the flyswatter delivered enough voltage to seriously maim, or even knock unconscious, an actual human being, she felt her confidence surge as she gripped her weapon tightly, its handle humming gently in her palm. On silent tiptoes, she approached the front door.

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