DrawnFlame



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    After his dream is finally crushed, Izuku isn’t quite sure there’s anything left for him to live for, but...he can’t exactly kill himself either, not without hurting the people he cares the most about. So, when he realizes that the quirkless can’t technically be vigilantes, it seems like the best of both worlds. He’ll be able to save people even without being a hero and, if he happens to die while he’s at it...well, like Kacchan said, maybe he’d be born with a quirk in the next life.

    This fic has a discord.

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    Words:
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    120/120
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    05 Feb 2023

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    “Hello and good evening, dear listener! How’s it going? What’s on your mind?”

    “Why didn’t you do the dishes. I specifically asked you to do the dishes so when I got home from patrol I could have stuff to make us dinner. Tell me why, Hizashi.”

    Or, one evening an irritable Shouta calls Hizashi during his evening show, and it becomes a regular occurrence.

    Language:
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    3,254
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    1/1
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    12 Oct 2022

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    12 Oct 2022

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    Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising.

    Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has:

    A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word

    His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom

    His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket

    Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils

    To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past

    All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

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    44/?
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    10 Oct 2022

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    The boy was convinced, with the kind of terrified fervor that could only come from harsh words and painful blows, that every action he took, every thought he had, every impulse he forgot to suppress, was somehow a failure.

    Was somehow rude, or disrespectful, or wrong.

    Was somehow worthy of punishment.

    So Iroh made tea. And made space. And made plans.

     

    Iroh loves tea, and loves Zuko. Not necessarily in that order.

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    Language:
    English
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    8,719
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    1/1
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    240
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    18 Apr 2022