Type-Moon Lemons

Thicc or Bricc

"A new personal best? Man, I'm on fire today!"

His muscles were too. A time out needed as surpassing his limits wasn't something Y/N could do. There was something called being human, especially a human who lazed on the exercise front until recently. However, ever since he started, there was no stopping. Like the corruption of someone entering Hollywood, it just keeps on grinding.

"Huh... how the hell have you gotten so good at exercising?! Fuck, I cannot keep up with this shit!"

"See, that's why you need to hit the gym more, Slav! Look, all I'm saying is this, if you want to clap those Sasha cheeks, you need to be able to last more than 30 seconds without collapsing like an asthma patient. Trust in the process, Braggs. Trust in the process."

The Slav wasn't so eager to push his limits. "I've been debuffed enough my life."

"Hey, I'm not 6 feet. I've got a Heavenly Restriction without the benefits," Y/N responded back, and before he left, Y/N made sure to write down in detail about the beautiful two forms that could comprise someone during exercise. Slim or muscled, watching disrespectfully while his pen went Shakespeare mode, never stopping the writing until his notes were complete.

With that, he skedaddled to the pain that was class. It was going to be maths, enough to make him shed tears. Those 3 times tables were really beating his ass in, full homo. Of course, he made sure to get some hopeful serotonin in through a final look at a certain duo exercising, both seeing Y/N eye them off.

***

"How well do you think you did on the test?"

"Let me think. It's like 5 plus 5 equals 11. None of that shit made sense. I could have sworn there was a question about the meaning of life. How the hell does that relate to maths?"

Someone had their glasses at the ready, nudging it on the bridge of their nose, perfectly timing it to make it spark. "That's simple. Actually—"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" everyone said in unison. Even the janitor, the rat that always escapes from his grasp, and the school shooter were all in telling the know-it-all to just not talk. Their input was irrelevant, their life was irrelevant.

However, despite the input of the 'nerd', he was no bitch. He wasn't going to let the whole school just trample on his pride. So, in spite of his position and reputation, standing on business against the whole school was mandatory. Only for someone who definitely doesn't rage to just slap them in the face and hold them by the collar: "Your life is NOTHING. You serve ZERO purpose. You should kill yourself NOW. And give somebody else a piece of that oxygen, in ozone layer, that's covered up so that we can breathe inside this blue trapped bubble. Because what are you here for? To worship me? Kill yourself! I mean that with a hundred percent, with a thousand percent!"

Y/N just blinking while the whole place was just erupting into chaos, a fight now ensuing and he was sure a slur or two was thrown. While still watching, Y/N was rummaging around his bag. "It's a beautiful day," he started singing, only to pat down and not feel his notepad, "dammmnnnn! I forgot my fucking book! That bitch can't be seen, gotta go!" he added, darting off soon after. He was going to have to hope that someone recorded the fight going on with a camera not shaking like using a selfie stick during a mating press. The day definitely not beautiful anymore.

***

Running up the stairs, Y/N wanted to go back down like a fat person after having stood up for more than 10 seconds. Right there, the lithe, thicc Scathach and the bricc Zenobia were there. Scathach holding a notebook that Y/N very much realised. "Oh... so is this the part where you kill me?" Y/N asked her.