velvet kitten

Not sure if my picture ever sent (so if it did, feel free to ignore this!) but this is one of MANY unflattering pictures of my kitten, Velvet. She was born in August and was maybe a month or two old at the time of this picture. Her favorite toy is my hair, as you can see.

Originally posted by steverorgers

“Uh, what the hell is that?” Tony asked, pointing at you with a pen, causing the other genius beside him to look up and at you standing in the doorway with a giant smile upon your face.

“So, I was driving past a pet store and couldn’t help but wonder how cute an animal would be in our home” you grin happily, holding a small black kitten, amongst a cosy blue blanket.

Tony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, “Really? Y/N, a kitten?” he asked.

“Hey, it’s cute, look at his wittle face, Stark” you moved closer, he examined the furry little beast and shrugged, “well good thing this little guy is for myself and Bruce, you love him right, Brucie?” 

Tony looked at his friend, “Uh, yeah, he’s very cute” Bruce said sheepishly, hesitantly stroking the velvet fur of the kitten, it purred from under his hand.

“He loves you already, I think, we’ll call him… Tony” you smile at human Tony, who glared at you, Bruce chuckled and held the kitten close to his chest with a small smile. 

“…I hate your girlfriend sometimes,” Tony tells Bruce who just chuckled.

“You can’t hate me, we are family, you asshole.” You yell, skipping off to bring in some of the toys you had brought kitten, Tony.  

Alternate “You”niverse Last Part

For @viper-seven: further adventures of kitten-shapeshifter Seb and white witch Chris, who has just run into a neighbor’s burning house to rescue people…


Chris stumbles down the sidewalk. His arms burn; his lungs burn, shredded by smoke. The girl’s weight drags at him, and he stumbles, but then they’re out, he can feel heat chasing them close but they’re out, and he sets her down as she squirms.

She runs to her mother. He turns, staggering. The blaze sears his eyes; he shuts them, searching with other senses. His own magic’s long depleted; he’s wrapped in the comforting rippling shields of Sebastian’s power, which invisibly wreathes his body, runs up and down his arms, tastes like blue spun sugar, and ruffles like kitten-fur velvet, keeping him safe. He borrows some of that power to fling out into every crevice of the house: hunting for scraps of life, kids or grandmothers or pets he’s missed.

He’s aware that he’s been leaning on Sebastian too long. His kitten doesn’t draw back—it’s not a telepathic link, though sometimes emotions bleed along the channel—but pushes more strength his way, willingly offered, wide open, giving. Keeping smoke damage at bay. Healing minor burns and nicks from stumbling through flame.

The house is empty, he thinks, and he turns back toward the sidewalk; he staggers as the roof falls in, as the conflagration roars. The mother runs to him, thanking him; he manages to answer, blurry with exhaustion.

More exhaustion than he should be feeling. He’s okay, physically. Sebastian made sure of that. Sebastian—

He can’t feel Sebastian.

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