Anonymous Sun 08 Sep 2024 02:39:22 No.68961200 Report

Quoted By: >>68961227

I said I was gonna do a Cynthia green in this thread, and I refuse to be made a liar by my own hand. Hopefully it's good.
>”Alright Cynthia, you can do this”
>I take a deep breath and slap my cheeks a few times to try and… hype myself up? I don’t know, I’ve just seen it in some movie or something before.
>On one side of the boss arena, me, the “Short, Stinky Stego-Shark” as I’ve heard some people call me.
>Cunts.
>On the other, an object of sheer terror. The most menacing thing saurian, skinnie or whatever else minds have ever made.
>The Bath.
>I take a step towards it, stopping before I take another.
>Do I… Really need to do this? Maybe I can just… throw on some deodorant and call it a day?
>… No. I can’t do that. I did that the last… Four, Five times?
>Even fucking Greene has said I stink recently. And I’ve seen that winged monkey come back from one of his camping trips or whatever half covered in mud that probably had shit in it.
>Must be cause of that stupid Para-slut he’s been hanging out with. Prissy bitch.
>I repeat the meaningless gesture of taking a deep breath and slapping my cheeks. Where the fuck did, I see this stupid shit?
>I guess it does work a bit though, since I’ve managed to make two more steps towards the bath.
>I briefly consider repeating it again, but decide that’s retarded. And also painful.
>I guess I’m going with ol’ reliable. Closing my eyes and just blindly stepping forward.
>Not being able to see it helps. But I always run the risk of taking a step too far and tripping into the damn thing.
>Naked.
>Again.
>I’m not even allowed to lock the bathroom door when I try this shit.
>Not that I need that rule. Never making THAT mistake again.
>God dammit Cynthia! Enough stalling just…
>Get your DAMN feet moving!
>I take cautious steps forward, not wanting to trip and fall in.
>”Okay, Just a few more and I- FUCK”
1/4

Anonymous Sun 08 Sep 2024 02:40:23 No.68961227 Report

Quoted By: >>68961263

>>68961200
>My eyes jolt open when I stub my toe on the stupid thing. A string of expletives and insults leave my mouth, all directed at an inanimate object.
>Once that’s out of my system, I just sigh. Guess that’s better than falling face first into the tub and being found by mom naked, with a bloody snoot and a few teeth lighter.
>Least those damn things grow back fast.
>For a few moments the bath and I have a stare down, with me trying, and failing, to glare the thing into submission.
>My eyes turn to the faucet, and I just stare at it for a bit, slowly reaching my hand out like it’s some sort of feral animal that will bite me if I’m too hasty.
>And I hate that that’s not too far from the truth.
>My hand rests on the handle as I mentally prepare myself for what comes next
>”Come on you pussy, just… DO IT!”I shout to myself, closing my eyes and turning the handle.
>I’m punished by the hellish sound of the water spewing from the spout and hitting the floor of the tub.
>At least I didn’t get splashed this time. That happened last time I got this far and forced me to bail.
>My hand quickly moves down to pull up the little peg… thing on top of the spout to switch from bath to shower mode.
>Yeah. Fuck having an actual bath with a saguaro cactus. A shower is bad enough.
>It’s like I ate the world’s shittiest devil fruit.
>I jolt my hand back, the showerhead taking a moment to actually start spitting water.
>And judging by the needles being jabbed into my scales, I got splashed.
>I wince and take a step back, both trying to look at it and not at the same time.
>I want to, no, I NEED to do this for my friends. I at least owe them that for putting up with a social retard like me.
>But it’s just so…
>I hear my heartbeat starting to drum in my ears as my mind begins drifting back to the day the old me died and the new me almost did, breathing starting to grow erratic.
>Fortunately, a knock on the bathroom door keeps the memories at bay.
2/4

Anonymous Sun 08 Sep 2024 02:41:25 No.68961263 Report

Quoted By: >>68961283

>>68961227
>”Cynthia?” My rising panic is quelled a bit at the sound of my mom’s voice “Are you in there?”
>Her voice is soft and comforting, as it always is when I try to do this.
>Though my dumb ass just snaps out a quick “Don’t come in!” instead of something actually thanking her.
>A soft “Alright” is the only response I get from the other side.
>I turn back to the running shower, my staring at it only making the panic return and grow.
>Though I guess I’m feeling brave today, since instead of spending God knows how long just standing there and trying to convince myself to both get in and run away, I just shout “Fuck it!” and step in.
>From there…I don’t know what happens.
>Panic? The feeling of a thousand knives being dragged through my scales? I’m pretty sure I screamed at some point.
>Or maybe I still am.
>At least I’m breathing through my mouth.
>Less of a chance of water getting in my nose and drowning me that way.
>My hands flail around the shower, desperately trying to find the 3 in 1 shit that I use to save time in this hell
>It would help if my eyes were open. But I managed to find it anyways.
>I just dump a huge glob of it in my hand and start to rub it all over. At least I get to step out of the rain of daggers when I do this, even if I still am wet.
>I’ve learned to do this part quick as well. Less time not under the shower’s stream means less time for me to bitch out and half ass things.
>At this point I’m full on hyperventilating, probably have been for a while actually, and I just charge back into the stream.
>The pain comes back, each drop of water a new knife that lodges itself deep into my scales, but I’m not bleeding.
>In my head, I think, I count up to twenty. Around the right amount of time to get everything rinsed off.
>The instant I hit twenty, I literally jump out of the shower and scramble to grab a towel
3/4

Anonymous Sun 08 Sep 2024 02:42:25 No.68961283 Report

Quoted By:

>>68961263
>I almost trip over my own two feet and the puddles on the ground, but I manage to snag a few.
>Like a woman possessed, I start to dry myself off, tearing the phantom daggers out of me one by one.
>Once it’s done, I slump to the floor and cover myself with a few towels, energy completely spent.
>A few tears, one of the few liquids that can touch me without making me feel like I’ve been stabbed, start to drip down my cheeks.
>”Why am I like this?” I whimper to myself, silently weeping.
>Quietly, so quietly only I can hear, I mutter “Why can’t I be the old Cynthia? The one with real friends, and a hobby that wasn’t just sitting in front of a screen all day…”
>The shower turns off. And I feel someone wrap their arms around me from outside my towel fortress.
>”You did good today étoile” mom says, as soft as ever.
>She breaks the hug, getting up “Go get yourself dressed, okay étoile ? I’m making your favorite food for dinner tonight”
>I shift a bit, poking my head out of my towel cocoon “With the good noodles?”
>She just nods, giving me a soft, comforting smile, “Of course, étoile, of course.”