#my gremlin

[squeaky-potat]

( ˇ෴ˇ ) 💅

[azzo0]

Infinite Memories

Summary: It's Katsuki's 25th birthday. After celebrating and cleaning up, you take him on a trip down memory lane.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Contains: established relationship, implied childhood friends to lovers, reader takes a bath with bakugo but nothing nsfw, foofy foofy fluff

wc: 1.2k

Katsuki made sure everyone at the party knew he was forced to be here and didn't like this shit at all, but you knew that was far from the truth. Standing with a glass of wine in your hand, you couldn't help but grin at him as he sat with his friends, Sero's arm slung around his shoulders. He was smiling unawares. He was totally enjoying this. 

Everyone had agreed to hold Katsuki's birthday party at his parents' house, given they had an enormous backyard. Mitsuki had cooked an amazing dinner while you and Mina decorated the backyard, leaving the boys to get the cake. It was supposed to be a surprise for Katsuki, but of course, he had to go and say he already remembered it was his birthday. It was just like him. You couldn't count the number of birthdays you tried to surprise him. He even acted like he was confused, but you knew better.

After the party, you and Katsuki stayed back to help with cleaning up. You dumped the plastic plates in a trash bag and then helped Mitsuki wash the dishes while the birthday boy removed the decorations in the back. 

"Are you sure you guys don't want to stay?" Mitsuki asked one last time as you two stood in the doorway. 

"No, ma," Katsuki said, "It's been a long night. Gonna go home and sleep."

"You can do that here, too," Mitsuki insisted.

"We won't fit in my old bed, you know that too," he sighed. 

"Alright, then. Good night." Mitsuki pulled you in a hug and gave Bakugo's cheek a smooch despite his protests. 

As soon as you entered the apartment, you took off your heels, kept the food Mitsuki had packed for you and joined Katsuki in the bathroom. He stood shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth as the bathtub filled with warm water. You stood in front of him, grabbing a wipe to remove the makeup from your face. He rinsed his mouth and took the wipe from you, tilting your face towards him as he gently cleaned your face. 

You guys undressed, stepping into the shower cubicle, big enough for two. Katsuki sat on the step stool, and you shampooed his hair for him, followed by cleaning his back while he scrubbed the rest of his body. He did the same for you afterwards, massaging your shower products into your hair and washing your back while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, planting an occasional kiss to your neck. 

You joined him in the tub after that, your head on top of his chest while his fingers brushed through your wet hair, his eyes closed, "Did you enjoy the party, 'Suki?"

"A little," he replied. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest. 

"Just a little?"

"Very little," he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile, which told you he did enjoy the party. You shifted to kiss him, working your way around his jaw and onto his face. He caught your lips in a lazy kiss, his hand tracing up and down your spine. It was getting very late, and Katsuki had to go to work in the morning. 

In the bedroom, he sat on the bed as you did his skin care for him, patting serums and moisturisers onto his skin. He crawled under the covers once you were done, resting his head against the headboard as he watched you do your skincare in front of the mirror. You caught his eye in the mirror and glanced back, "Don't go to sleep. There's something I want to give you, birthday boy."

"Okay," he replied, his crimson gaze following you as you left the room. He fought to stay awake as his eyes slowly shut. 

"You're falling asleep," your voice brought him back to his senses. 

"I'm not," he retorted. 

You smiled and sat beside him, slipping under the blanket. You handed him a photo album. He took it from you, looking down at it. It had a beige leather cover with a heart engraved on the front. Inside the heart was a word in italics: Us. 

He opened the album and was greeted by a picture of him and you as toddlers, only two years old. A smile danced on his lips as he looked down at the picture. You were crying in it because he had snipped one of your pigtails while he sat on the floor with a pair of scissors, a gleeful grin on his face. Under the picture, written in your handwriting was, 'I'm not sure which one of the adults left you alone with a scissor, but I'm still mad you cut off my cutesy hair.'

"Heh, I was a fucking hair stylist!" Bakugo exclaimed, all his sleep gone. 

"Hair stylist, my ass. You just cut off a huge section of my hair." 

He turned the page to see more baby pictures of you two, with a picture of you guys standing in your elementary school uniforms on the next page. You were grinning at the camera while Bakugo pouted, looking like he'd stab someone with the stick in his hand. He found your commentary under the pictures hilarious, 'My boyfie does not like school.'

The album brought back so many special memories he had with you. His fingers stopped over a page with a picture of you wearing a crown made of different flowers while he stood beside you, little ears dusting pink, 'He decided to marry me when we were six.'

"Where did you get that picture from?" He groaned, running a hand down his face in embarrassment, "I don't even remember anyone taking a picture of us!"

"Well, my father had it," You smiled, glancing up at him. He still blushed like he did when he was six. 

He flipped through each page with you, smiling at the wholesome ones and scoffing at the embarrassing ones, each turn of the page a reminder of the constant and unwavering support you gave him to this day. In this album you made him, he took a trip through his middle and high school days he spent with you. You also put a picture of him receiving his award for making it to the top two, 'Proud of you, Dyanamight- your #1 fan.'

There was a picture of your guys' engagement and wedding. He shook his head and laughed at them, blinking away the tears that were starting to form. How far he had come with you. The last picture was a fresh one. It was from the party. He was looking at you as you stuffed your mouth with the cake, 'Happy 25th birthday, Katsuki.' Mitsuki was the one hopping around with a polaroid camera. He was sure you got it from her.

"Thank you, y/n," he said, looking to his side to see you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, your mouth ajar. 

His hand searched for his phone under the pillow. He opened the camera app, switching to the front camera. He snapped a picture and stared at it for the longest time. It was beautiful, with the bedside lamps casting a golden hue around you two. He found it adorable how your cheek was mushed on his shoulder with your mouth open. He'd get it printed on his way to work and put it in the album. 

He'd slowly stick more pictures in it over time. When pages would run out, he'd add more pages because he still had infinite memories waiting to be made with you.  

[statice-arts]

yes your honor I love him

[maneaterm1a]

i love it when anyone calls armand gremlin. that is the perfect word for that creature

[thatguybasil]

First ref of the artfight season! Meet Water Cat, a tiny, strangely ocean-like critter who also happens to be the world's worst assassin

I'll post my artfight card (artist sheet? intro page? team thingy?) with a link to my artfight page once I've got all of my refs up. Until then, y'all are gonna have to either wait or scavenge on your own. Have fun!

[eta-volantis]

I miss my Mercar Rook, Alecto, a lot so please enjoy my favourite screenshots of them.

[the-sky-is-full-of-light]

The lovely little girl🖤

[unholyfruitbat]

Rainy c: @jackdawjack

[little-legend-baby]

No Chinese Chicken Salad?

[author-a-holmes]

My cat's called Litha, but I will frequently call him "Gremlin". I write at night, so often I've only got one lamp on, and the rest of the living room is in shadows. Litha has this irritating habit of sitting in the shadows, and staring at me, until i can FEEL his glare, and then I'll look up and get the shit scared out of my by the glowing green eyes glinting from the lamplight, staring out of the abyss at me as though I murdered his mother.

Gremlin.

Use your own judgement on the line between a nickname and a cutesy version of their name

[artemisdesari-blog]

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[luckyopossum14]

Trend(lazy)

I hate perspective and hands

[undergroundriotwriting]

thinking about mononoke again...

Side-by-sides I've made of the Sellers so far.

[chubby-p1nk]

The "Sassy" Core 4 are my babies. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY ARE WELL BEHAVED?

Nah, these 4 are little shits 🐛

[aliteralactualfactualgremlin]

I think if she pulled me into a bathroom, pressed me against the wall and started kissing me it’d fix all my problems actually

[aficionadoenthusiast]

jason's 13 years at the super disciplined camp and several years as a leader of said camp mean it is very unlikely that he is any shade of feral, except for maybe a few minor idiosyncracies that all camp jupiter kids have because they all spent time at the wolf house, but since they all have these traits, they might be considered cultural rather than feral. however, annabeth chase, who was famously left alone until she was seven and was raised by an ancient greek horse man that used to live alone on a mountain, a barely sober god of mental illness, several other mythical beings based on animals, and approximately 37 different traumatized, exhausted, and desperate teenagers at an unregulated summer camp where she learned how to be scary by studying greek monsters, would definitely be somewhere near feral.