There’s no such thing as too many sticky notes! (Oneshot Preview)

Author’s Note: I haven’t gotten inspiration to write fanfics in ages, and I’m currently going through writer’s block, so when inspiration struck I was ecstatic! Decided to share what I got because lmao, why not? Isn’t this a social media platform?

The darkest span of Aizawa Shouta’s career as a teacher began, unsurprisingly, a Monday. «The Gay Monday», as Hizashi had dubbed it with outrageous accuracy.

(Why not ‘black’, you ask? Because gay was the new black. Everything was gay nowadays, even Aizawa —whose hatred for the media couldn’t be rivaled— knew it.)

A villain attack near a power plant ended causing some serious collateral damage. The said power plant just happened to be one of the main suppliers of the country electrical substations, and while it only affected a third part of Japan because hello, eco-friendliness age; the telecommunication system still suffered for it. While it didn’t completely shut down, it barely worked, to the point people favored writing it off as ‘dead’ rather than keeping on getting frustrated to their phones.

Of course, Aizawa knew none of this until Midnight broke in the news to them at the teacher’s lounge. And of course, as he sipped his afternoon coffee, Aizawa silently judged all these CEO who couldn’t care less about improving the system but grabbing all the money at their disposal without care.

(You deserve what's coming for you, corrupt bastards.)

As a silent shitstorm raged on and justice was served somewhere, Aizawa paid no heed to the situation actual, for it didn’t affect the way he lived day-to-day in the slightest. Why would it? The U.A. had long ago transcended the status of a private school, evolving into a small country in development the moment Nedzu went (even more) nuts, cutting the school off the district energy supply and making the U.A. work on solar panels and wind power only.

However, there’s a little, bit problem that Aizawa hadn’t taken into consideration: electricity doesn’t equal to internet, and he was bound by contract —and sheer paternal instinct— to look day and night after twenty teenagers.

Twenty problematic teenagers.

Twenty problematic and superpowered teenagers.

Twenty problematic and superpowered teenagers that didn’t have access to internet.

Upon realizing the shit he was in for the next few days, Aizawa did what any reasonable adult stuck in his shoes would: a stronger jar of coffee.