Akumatized Butterfly Novels & Stories

The butterfly fluttered its wings merrily as it attempted once more to communicate with Drake the information that it possessed. Drake's dark eyes suddenly appeared gentle rays; he winced, doubt and confusion rising in Drake like a storm. That manipulative song, which he most certainly did not hear wrong, is something that only Kyra is capable of singing; no one else in this world can sing a manipulative song. The voice is clear but carries a huge power. Drake's subconscious has been storing memories of this voice since a very long time ago. He couldn't believe he had misread Kyra's voice. As a result, he felt a tremendous amount of rage when the silver butterfly told him that the person he

But there were still a lot more plants I couldn’t identify. I gasped, awestruck, gazing at the red butterfly. Its wings were as though made of thin slices of glowing red crystals with dark and gold patterns mixing gracefully with one another as it flapped its long-tailed wings. It was twice the size of a normal butterfly and a thousand times more beautiful and magical. The butterfly fluttered past the window glass. I waved at it excitedly, as though it would wave back at me. Unaware of how sheepishly I was smiling, I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

Patricia said nervously. "Uh-no, we are not turning back. Patricia, I swear to God. if you will not drive, I will crash this amazing Bugatti La Voiture Noire into the gate, your choice." "That is the worst blackmail ever, Felix. You know how much I love this car." "Then, drive."

Hand-in-hand, they walked… The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the sandstone walls and arches. Aurora suddenly stopped in her tracks and gasped. Derek looked at her curiously, wondering what had caught her attention. He followed her gaze to her index finger, where she had just made a beautiful yellow butterfly sit kn her index finger. It was a delicate and vibrant creature, with wings that were a bright, lemony yellow hue. Its wings were adorned with intricate patterns of black lines and dots, creating a stunning contrast against the yellow background.

I look around, and Teresa is gone. I hear her scream from the room next door. “Get away from me!” I look in front of me, there is a man, but it’s not Pablo or Juan. He licked his fingers. “Who are you?” I back up until I hit the wall. “No need to be afraid. I won’t hurt you unless you want me to.” “Who are you?” I asked again. “I am Mateo, I am the general of Zamora and your father’s right-hand man.”

Knowing she’d have some time to compose herself, to secret away the smile and careless posture she wore whenever she visited here, before having the duty and expectations thrust upon her again, always made Kit head off to this place first whenever she had a moment or two. Today, she watched a beautiful azure butterfly flutter about, its majestic wings grazing the tips of the flower petals as it darted between the tulips. She imagined what it might be like to have wings, to be free from the burdens of queendom and courtship. Would she dance among the flowers as the insect did now, or would she be carried away by a windstorm?

Dimitri stood proud and arrogant as he stood away from the unconscious girl, waiting for Professor Bains to announce him as the winner when something unusual took place. A swarm of glowing purple butterflies burst out of Luna's chest and covered her entire body. The butterflies' luminous bodies were so bright that anyone who tried to stare in her direction was blinded and had to shield their eyes. The crowd of students broke out into a frenzy and began murmuring with each other. Professor Bains and even Dimitri did not know how to comprehend the odd sight taking place before their eyes.

"But don't worry, since your life is presently in my hands, we aren't lost yet." Arian scoffed and jumped over too and they continued walking. "O.M.G!" Natalia suddenly squeaked. "It's a white butterfly!" She excitedly moved over to where it was feeding on a flower. "Yay." The hot French muttered dryly. Arian didn't know, but in Astheria white butterflies were the rarest and most significant butterflies in the Empire. "Take a picture of us!" She ordered and tossed him her digital camera. He reluctantly took a photo and returned it after much fussing.

It was a butterfly. I blinked twice in amusement and slowly reached out, only for it to fly over a potted hydrangea in the corner. I contented myself with watching from afar. It flapped its majestic wings elegantly— black etched with purple dots and an intricate pattern on the sides. Somewhere on the internet, someone pointed out that butterflies cannot actually see their wings. I wonder if it was actually true and what a shame that would be. To be so beautiful and yet so painfully unaware.

The one that he had chosen was adorned with red icing on the wings, outlined in black, and looking like the most stereotypical butterfly that one could think of, the poster boy of all butterfly species that one saw to promote documentaries and other sorts of nature programmes that were really only watched to marvel at the world and passively feel good, not at all taking in the message and the point of all those documentaries and series as the planet continued on to boil to death and then have its corpse violated and ashes harvested to turn a neat profit from the dying remains that were going to be left of humanity, barely eeking out a life time of hard, hard living - most of them being poor