Dirtbagattack - Evil Maya

guys i found out men can see me and not just girls

like i am visible to only people who understand the relation of film cooper and marsha p johnson

You better write those fics we talked about 😈

oh god im scared

this should be canon

bakugo does that thing where you spread your legs to be at eye level with a much shorter person (he's an asshole) (request)

guess who got an A on their test that they didn’t study for! I guess writing mha headcanons does make me better at school.

requests are highly appreciated!!

what part time jobs i think that the baku squad (+jiro and sero) would have

(i might make a part 2 with other students if people want)

katsuki bakugo

It seems fairly obvious that he’d work in a restaurant to me

specifically a fast casual restaurant like panera

they tried to have him be a cashier once and never again because he has horrible customer service skills (no shit)

he acts like Carmy from the bear despite the fact that half of his job is reheating frozen stuff

will crash out if someone leaves their area a mess

works as much as possible and is insanely dedicated despite the fact that he makes minimum wage

kyoka jiro

she’s a cashier at a record store

wears band shirts so she can flex when grown ass men ask her to name 5 songs

DEFINITELY uses her employee discount

Eijiro Kirishima

Hear me out he’s a swim coach for kids

he originally tried being a lifeguard but would freak out and think people were drowning when they were just swimming

He is actually really good with kids and overall good at his job

Denki Kamanari

He’s been fired like 8 times

the only place he can get a job is the grocery store where he’s a stocker

spends all his money the minute he gets his paycheck

Hanta Sero

He’s a drive through attendant at the same restaurant as Bakugo

He works a lot to get money for you know 🍃

He picks a new random accent to talk in for each customer when he gets bored

Mina Ashido

She’s a receptionist at a hair salon

When she doesn’t like a client she’ll tell them that they’re all booked up when they really aren’t

eats all the lollipops they have in the jar for customers

biggest shit talker and gossips with the customers and cosmetologists

bring back tumblr ask culture let me. bother you with questions and statements

i hate haters

i hate hypocrisy

i hate lists

i hate people who type in all lowercase

i hate irony

i hate donald trump (this ones fr guys)

bakugo always preferred the company of women over men. Being raised by Mitsuki, he was used to loud and opinionated women.

In class he’d always get annoyed when guys would repeat a girl’s idea louder and get credit.

#bakugoisafeminist

You know he’s always ready to square up with Mineta whenever he says anything disrespectful.

When he defended Uraraka at the sports festival some of the other guys started to suspect that he liked her.

God, were they wrong.

“What the hell Shitty Hair!?” Bakugo exclaimed after Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari had confronted him in the locker room.

“Well we’ve seen you guys talking and stuff so..” Hanta trailed off.

Little did they know that Bakugo and Uraraka both had eyes for the same person.

(lowkey like the nico thing in percy jackson lol)

Can I request an established relationship with katsuki x reader where reader has a healing quirk, but whateber injury she heals, she feels a fraction of the pain and drains her own energy.

she had to heal a lot of civilians in the mission and katsuki finds her before she passes out

Borrowed Pain

The battlefield was finally quiet. Smoke and dust still clung to the air, the acrid scent of destruction mixing with the metallic tang of blood. It had been a brutal fight—villains tearing through the city like a wildfire, leaving behind wreckage, wounded civilians, and far too much loss.

But you had done your part.

Your hands trembled as you pressed them against another injured civilian’s body, your quirk flickering to life in a soft, golden glow. You gritted your teeth as their deep gash slowly sealed itself shut, your skin prickling with the familiar burn of borrowed pain. The moment the wound disappeared, a sharp sting lanced through your own abdomen—a phantom pain, a fraction of what they had endured, but enough to make your breath hitch.

You had lost count of how many people you had healed.

Your body was barely holding together. Each time you healed someone, it took something from you—your energy, your strength, your stability. The worst part wasn’t even the fatigue; it was the cumulative pain, layer upon layer of injuries you hadn’t actually sustained, but still felt as if you had. Your arms ached as if they’d been broken and reset a dozen times over. Your ribs throbbed with phantom bruises. Your head was spinning from the strain.

But you couldn’t stop.

Not when another civilian, a mother clutching her unconscious daughter, was crying out for help.

Not when people needed you.

You forced yourself forward, dragging your heavy limbs across the debris-littered ground. You sank to your knees beside them, nearly toppling over from the sheer effort of staying upright. The little girl was breathing, but her leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Fractured, at the very least.

You exhaled shakily. “I’m going to fix her,” you murmured, mostly to yourself, because the mother’s sobs made it clear she wasn’t hearing anything beyond her own panic.

You placed your hands on the girl’s leg and summoned what little energy you had left. The glow of your quirk was duller now, weaker. You weren’t even sure if you had enough in you to mend the break.

But you had to try.

The moment the healing process started, a searing pain shot through your own leg. You bit down hard on your lip, trying to suppress the strangled sound of pain that threatened to escape. It felt like your bone had snapped, like the marrow itself was burning—but then, after a few agonizing seconds, it was gone.

The girl stirred with a soft whimper, her leg whole again.

But you—

The world tilted violently. Your vision blurred, colors bleeding together in a hazy mess. You tried to push yourself up, to move onto the next person, but your limbs refused to cooperate.

Your heart pounded sluggishly in your chest. You could barely feel the ground beneath you.

Too much.

You had given too much.

Your body swayed, and just as you felt yourself pitching forward, a voice—loud, rough, unmistakable—cut through the fog in your mind.

“The hell do ya think you’re doing?!”

A pair of strong arms caught you before you could hit the ground. The scent of burnt caramel filled your senses, familiar and grounding. Katsuki.

You wanted to say something, to reassure him that you were fine, that you just needed a second, but the moment you met his gaze, the words died in your throat.

His expression—fierce, scowling—was betrayed by the sheer panic in his crimson eyes. His hands, calloused but warm, cradled you carefully, as if afraid you’d break apart if he held you any tighter.

"You overdid it again, dumbass,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “I told ya not to push yourself like this!"

You tried to smile, tried to play it off, but even that was too much effort. “People needed help,” you mumbled instead, eyelids fluttering.

Katsuki clicked his tongue, his jaw clenching. “And what about you, huh? Who the hell’s gonna help you when you’re passin’ out on the goddamn street?!”

You had no answer.

Because, deep down, you hadn’t even considered yourself.

You had only been thinking about them.

Your head lolled against his shoulder, exhaustion wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Your body felt weightless and unbearably heavy all at once, limbs refusing to respond, breath shallow and uneven.

Katsuki tightened his grip, as if he could physically hold you together with just his arms alone. His heart was pounding against your cheek. “Don’t you dare pass out,” he muttered, shaking you slightly. “Oi, stay with me.”

But you couldn’t.

You fought it—really, you did—but the darkness was already creeping in, dragging you under. The last thing you felt before everything went black was Katsuki pulling you closer, the heat of his body a stark contrast to the icy numbness in your veins.

And the last thing you heard was his voice, raw and desperate.

“I got you, alright? Just—fuck—just stay with me.”

*-*-*-*

Your eyelids felt like lead, heavy and unyielding, but the warmth pressed against your side was familiar. It anchored you, coaxing you from the depths of unconsciousness. The air was different here—cleaner, free of smoke and dust, carrying the faint antiseptic scent of a medical ward.

You stirred, your body protesting with a dull, lingering ache. Every muscle felt wrung out, every nerve frayed at the edges. A low, irritated grunt sounded beside you.

"'Bout damn time you woke up."

The voice—gruff and unmistakable—sent a wave of relief through your foggy mind. You managed to pry your eyes open, blinking against the dim light. Katsuki was slouched in a chair beside your bed, arms crossed, brows furrowed in a scowl that didn’t quite hide the tension in his shoulders. His usual hero gear had been replaced with a simple black shirt and sweatpants, but he still looked battle-worn—his hands wrapped in gauze, a faint bruise darkening his cheekbone.

"Katsuki…?" Your voice came out hoarse, your throat dry and sore.

His scowl deepened. "Yeah, dumbass. Who else would be here watchin’ your reckless ass?"

You tried to push yourself up, but the moment you moved, a sharp pain lanced through your limbs. Katsuki was there in an instant, his hands firm but careful as he eased you back against the pillows. "The hell do ya think you’re doin’? Lay the fuck down."

A weak chuckle escaped you. "I feel like I got hit by a truck."

"Yeah? Well, servin’ yourself up on a silver platter like that’ll do that to ya." His voice was gruff, but the tightness in his jaw betrayed something deeper—anger, frustration… concern.

You let your head rest against the pillow, exhaling softly. "How long was I out?"

Katsuki hesitated, then muttered, "Almost two days."

Your eyes widened. "Two—?" You tried to sit up again, only for his hand to press firmly against your shoulder, keeping you down with surprising gentleness.

"I swear to god, if you don’t stop fuckin’ movin’, I’ll tie you to the damn bed."

You huffed a tired laugh but obeyed, sinking back. "What happened?"

Katsuki exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. "You pushed yourself way too far. You were burnin’ up, shakin’ like a damn leaf. Could barely fuckin’ breathe." His fingers curled into fists. "You scared the shit outta me."

That last part was muttered under his breath, almost like he didn’t want you to hear it. But you did. And it sent warmth blooming in your chest, even through the exhaustion.

"I just…" You swallowed, throat tight. "People needed me."

"Yeah? And what, you don’t?" Katsuki snapped, eyes flashing. "You think you can just keep throwin’ yourself away for everyone else and it won’t fuckin’ matter?"

His words struck something deep inside you, something raw and unspoken. You had always known the risks of your quirk. The cost of healing. But you had never really thought about what it did to you—only what it did for others.

Katsuki dragged a hand down his face, exhaling hard. "Look, I get it. You wanna help people. That’s what heroes do. But not at the damn expense of your own life, dumbass."

You hesitated, searching for the right words. "I don’t know how to stop."

For a moment, he just stared at you, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Then, with a sigh, he shifted closer, resting his forearms on the edge of the bed. "Then I’ll make sure you do."

His voice had lost its usual bite, softened into something steadier. A promise.

You met his gaze, and for the first time in a long while, you let yourself lean into the warmth of someone else’s care.

"Okay."

tumblr was made for my flavor of neurodivergence

also does anyone have brainrot as a vocal stim because i can’t stop saying “what the gyatt”

guys help there’s this girl next to me who keeps talking about her worms and putting her face near my shoulder and she doesn’t have any iron