#like atl 5 people have said this with their full chests and then people around not dispute it or nod along like

[krockat]

hey. Hey. person reading this right now. if you already feel bad about this, or are aware of this, and you for example have intrusive thoughts about dirt and stuff - don't feel so bad about this.

and i think the implication that 'everyone should feel after touching any public surface like they've touched dog poo'

and by extension that that should feel poison and by perhaps extension even perhaps Should make you feel dread, and perhaps even feel like a bad or shameful person for it?

i think, we should probably walk that back a little. i think it easily comes across as that, and could be triggering people's anxieties about this, in an unfair way.

absolutely - cleaning your hands good and keeping good hygiene is good, but the feeling bad about it part? you do not need to feel bad or anxious or dread about it during or about it.

you also do not have to Make yourself feel so bad about it.

and if you read this and realize maybe you haven't taken your hand hygiene seriously enough, you can always change and improve.

and that it will be okay. change, good change, can always start today. there are also many good handwashing tutorials that came into (re) creation after covid hit 2020.

also, for context - because I do not mean to be rude to op or previous commenter, i am specifically writing this as a person who has intrusive thoughts and dirt phobia, but am recovering,

and I just feel like this post has great points and perspectives that I don't often see shared - that I want to reblog! and also wanted to talk about that perhaps moral ocd/dirt ocd triggery thing, and not let that pass without that commentary.

and that also as a person with intrusive thoughts and dirt phobia, that YES oh my gosh THANK you,

it really is so scary sometimes and isolating how people do not even consider these things with hygiene, and I've also talked to people about it but they still don't see the point!

i know my fears and concerns about dirt are not Just irrational - and I feel like people often dismiss my knowledge about dirt and hygiene Because I have these diagnoses.

And i Guess it's easy to ignore my concerns and pleas if they can dismiss me because of them.

Washing my hands as I come home?? a given. also washing my hands before I touch my cat!

cats can also get covid (last I heard, that was mid early hit of the pandemic hitting though, science might have found more) and so like i do Not want to mess around - not for me Or for him!

also I've known so many people who don't wash their hands after using the bathroom.

tw for below: REALLY nasty hand hygiene

i had a parent (i disowned them) that used to sometimes skip out on washing his hands after he shat.

like I could hear him shitting and could also hear him flushing, not turning on the washbin, and immediately exiting the bathroom.

i tried to tell the rest of my family members and others but they just didn't believe me.

also if you touch your genitals (including dicks) or underwear in the bathroom, or touch the toilet, or the toilet roll that has been used, You should wash your hands! It's Not Cleannn

I Do Not get people who do not get that. at all.

in the vein of "how do you stay safe from getting sick", I wanna say that something I always noticed as a kid was that a lot of the time when I went to people's houses and we would leave at some point to the mall or the park or something and then come back home…I don't remember any of them washing their hands when we got back inside. they'd just immediately lead me back to their room or the living room or something, and then I'd feel incredibly self-conscious about going to their bathroom to wash my own hands. and I always thought it was absolutely bizarre because the way I was raised, the first thing you do when you come back home after taking your shoes and jacket off is go wash your hands. it's common sense. why on planet earth would you not wash your hands. you've just been touching a hundred public surfaces that could have anything on them and you think as soon as you set foot in your own house all the germs you've picked up just evaporate? it's absolutely insane to me to know that so many people don't bother washing their hands. WASH YOUR HANDS.

[ecotone99]

[SF] Prologue: The Chimera War

The ship shuddered, and a new series of alarms sounded from various consoles around him. One of the pilots, Lieutenant Aguirre, looked back at him. He knew what the pilot was about to say just from the panicked look on his face, and his heart sunk.“Alpha drive is offline, Commander.”

There was a collective intake of breath from the bridge crew. The sound of Raptor gunfire pattered across the hull wherever the reactive shielding failed to catch it, filling the silence. It made him think of hail on the corrugated roof over his grandmother's porch in Oklahoma. He dwelt on that memory wistfully for a moment, and then returned focus to the here and now. He spun in his chair and focused on his DSE.“

Divert anything we've got to RPS and propulsion.” He swiveled back around and paused. “If they're going to take us, we'll make them pay for it.”

The crew turned back to their duties, Aguirre calling out status updates as the other pilot, Cary, pushed the ship through evasive maneuvers. The sound of hail-- gunfire, he corrected himself absently-- lessened as the ship's shielding was bolstered. With the a-drive out of commission, this was a fight they could no longer run from. He pulled up the forward view console with one hand, gripping his armrest with the other. He could see the small enemy ships flitting about, gunfire erupting from them in sharp spurts. They didn't seem to follow any pattern at all, except to swoop in and around one another almost as if vying against each other for contact with the Terran ship.

He flicked the view away and turned the chair again, to his gunners. “Ammunition?”

His tactical officer, Newman, shook her head. “We've got plenty, sir. Frankly, in this situation we're...” She cleared her throat, spoke again. “We're likely to see the Excalibur destroyed before we run out. Even with this many targets.” She pulled her eyes away from the console and looked at the Commander. She smiled wryly, shrugging. “Even with as many targets as we have, we only have so many guns, sir.”

He nodded. The ship was still mobile, and that gave him some hope. The gunners were quietly calling out their kills as they removed more and more enemy ships from the combat. Yet the sound of enemy fire hadn't lessened noticeably. The Raptor ships weren't endless, but they certainly felt that way. The ship banked hard to port, and the crew braced against their harnesses as they pulled into a tight turn.“Sir, I'm having trouble getting her to respond as quickly as I'd like,” Cary said in soft voice, as if afraid speaking any louder would pull his focus away from the viewscreens. “Something's wrong with the starboard engine.”

The Commander pushed the comm button for Engineering, listened to it chirp. The ship rocked again, hard, and he could faintly smell an acrid smoke in the air. He pressed the button again after a moment without response. Engineering probably had its hands full as it was. The Excalibur had never been pushed to this extreme. Nowhere near it, in fact. The engineers back on Earth would have a field day analyzing the statistics if they ever made it home.

Lights flickered, and the smell of smoke got stronger. A klaxon rang out, and a computerized voice followed. “Hull breach, plate C-33. Compartment sealed.”

“Damn it! That's right by my berth,” Aguirre spat. “I really hope my shit hasn't ejected.”

“My shit ejected five minutes ago when they opened fire,” joked Rogers, the port gunner.

The Commander cleared his throat. “Priorities, people. Focus on the task at hand. Joke later, when we're not getting shot up.” He shifted in his seat, or tried to at least. The harness made it difficult to get comfortable. He considered for a moment unfastening it and adjusting, but was distracted by a massive burst of light on one screen. “What was that?”

“Two of the Raptors, sir,” said Stein, his other gunner. “I clipped one with an ATL. It spun into its buddy and the two went up like fireworks.”

He grunted in response, pressed the button for Engineering again. The ship dipped hard forward and did a roll, and he was sure he'd have lost his lunch if it hadn't been for the motion sickness meds he'd taken that morning. Even so, he heard a few of the bridge crew hiss or curse quietly as Cary guided the ship. Another klaxon rang out, and the ship's voice sounded again. “Hull breach, plate A-5. Compartment sealed.”

He turned around and locked eyes with Newman. She started to unbuckle.

“No, no.” He sighed and braced as the ship shook. “I've got it. You keep laying fire on the enemy.” He unsnapped his harness and knelt down, pulling open the locker built into the bridge floor. He lifted out a canister of foam sealant, pulled a breather over his face, and crossed to the front of the bridge, crawling underneath the console between his pilots. He turned to say something to Aguirre, and was looking at the man when bullets ripped through the bridge, tearing into Aguirre's face.

The klaxon sounded for just a moment before the hull breach widened and the commander felt himself ripped out of his ship, a piece of... something, tearing into his side as he spun out into space. The mask had been torn from his face, and he exhaled hard, pushing the air from his lungs as he hit vacuum. His ears popped, and his face felt numb. He spun slowly, head over heels, his eyes glancing over his ship as he watched the Raptor fighters swoop in, lay down fire, and pull back out again. There was a cloud of debris erupting from various breaches, obscuring much of the ship. But it was clear that she had ceased to move, drifting through the debris as the enemy finished her off.

He would have wept, if he could have. Or perhaps he was? It was difficult to tell. He let his thoughts meander, dwelling for a moment on his wife, Tess, and their young children, Samantha and Gregory. He grimaced as he thought of never seeing them grow up. He was slipping further and further from the battle as his mind wandered, images of wheat fields and movies and classrooms. Of his parents, and his brother. He saw something light up on the ship, and tried to focus on it, but the spinning and debris made it nearly impossible.

He felt his chest tightening, his lungs heaving for air that wasn't there. His vision blurred, came back into focus, and then narrowed. Like a tunnel, the edges fuzzy and constricting further as he twisted his head, tried to glimpse the TCS Excalibur one more time before it faded completely. He looked, seeing the Raptors no longer firing on his ship, instead sitting arrayed about it as if contemplating their kill.He took in the scene, realized he couldn't count how many enemy fighters had been destroyed in the time he had left, and smiled. They'd done a tremendous job against an enemy they'd never faced before. Not good enough, though... to...

It was getting hard to think. Not enough time. Tess. He smiled again, despite his chest constricting and his heart hammering. He opened his mouth out of reflex, desperate for air. He closed it again, conscious of his appearance for whatever reason. No one would see him, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. He wondered if the lake was stocked this season. He'd take Sam out fishing, spend some time with her before she became a young lady... before...

And then, he was still.

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