#germaphobia tw

[wry-and-erring-stimmer]

Leftover death stims

(source) (source)

[methodwriting]

i could create a completely sterile environment actually. i alone could get rid of cross contamination in a well stocked enclosure. virgin mary levels of immaculate (the vatican is so jealous). my non-porous surfaces would be so so aseptic scientists would want to study them. i wouldn't let them tho. because of germs. but they'd be lining up.

[ragefrombeauty]

epstein barr virus why why me. hm. exhaustion and fatigue can last up to 6 months after virus? why. why did you evolve like this. ghgngngnnn

[soullessseraphim]

D:'

[etherealspacejelly]

i have run into a very oddly specific problem in my life due to conflicting autism symptoms

chewing is one of my favourite stims, so i bought a couple of chew necklaces. they're great! i like using them! however. i am also a bit of a germaphobe, so after i have chewed them a couple of times im like. hmm. the germs. i need to wash them. but my executive dysfunction prevents me from taking them downstairs to wash them when i do the dishes, even though im already taking my dishes downstairs to wash them anyway!! so they end up sitting on my desk for weeks, untouched, because my brain says im not allowed to chew them until they are clean, and i cant clean them until my executive dysfunction decides to let me. so i just end up chewing gum all the time, which probably isnt good for my jaw or my wallet. yippee /s

[kushamiqueen]

Once again ranting hoping for solidarity. Germaphobe gang rise up:

I feel like I can't even breathe in my own room and now I have to sleep in it 😭

I'm gonna have to wear headphones because she keeps sniffling and it's so gross. I have way too much coming up for this now. I just need 2 more weeks of health and that's all.

Idk why I agreed to let her live here when I knew this was a distinct possibility. 🤦‍♀️

[godofautism]

I feel so sick

Jesus christ

Why can't I remove my hand

I feel so gross

TW: germaphobia and a bit gross stuff

My phone fell in the toilet and I had to grab it and I feel disgusted ew ew ew ew ew

[heartofstanding]

there's a dead cockatoo in my backyard

[marshmallowprotection]

OCD anon here again;;; (sorry..)

I had a flare up today and was convinced that no matter how many times I washed my hands, I couldn't get my dog's 'germs' off - I'd been playing with her in the garden, throwing a little ball which of course got wet and slimy with her mouth - usually I'm okay with washing my hands a few times, then a few scrubs antibacterial wipes, all good!

But oh man, today

Mind you, things were no different to any other day, not at all

I must've just been feeling particularly anxious about something which I can't remember because as soon as the flare up hits everything else is nothing compared to it

Well

I basically thought everything in my house was infected with dog germs. If I touched anything, a sofa, tv remote, chair, kitchen counter - it was there.

I hadn't touched anything.

Everything was fine.

I had to call in my parents to tell me that everything was fine.

Many, many times.

Are you sure?

Are you sure?

But - but -

Eventually I calmed down about my entirely spotless surroundings and just ended up washing my hands at least three more times until I was satisfied

Until I thought that I was okay.

Which of course...I was the whole time.

The worst thing is hindsight, when you look back on yourself and are like I'm so stupid and dumb. Replaying even that in your head.

But - here I go again with a Saeran request ~

I'll never stop feeling guilty for putting my parents through my antics almost every single day.

I'm like a whining leech, I must be...infuriating.

Actually, I know that I am.

Well, I know that my parents won't ever fully understand what it's like. But it does hurt when they sigh and puff and get very visibly irritated, and even laugh sometimes at my checking, like '...really? Come on.'

Oh yeah! What I meant to say all along was Saeran -

Kait, you and your writings are such a great comfort to all of us here.

But the way you write Saeran is just...perfect. I wanted to thank you for that! <3

Especially because what you've written for me before - even though you don't even have to answer - really cheers me up when I'm feeling skittish.

So I...I um - I'd really love a little cuddle and squeeze from Saeran today...and just go and lie on my bed and with all the lights down or even just off, so nothing's too jarring or distracting...

And just kind of nuzzle into him and cuddle all nice and warm and cozy!

... >.< <3 <3

On the worst days, that's when you can count on GE Saeran to hold you. he knows what you must be feeling when you give him that look that says all he needs to know about it. He hates that there isn't very much he can do to help you feel comfortable with your fears. But, he knows that being there for you, being sympathetic and considerate... that's really what matters to your needs is what matters at the end of the day.

You need someone who gets it and doesn't question why you must do something a dozen times to feel comfortable. He doesn't want the pain to get so bad that you wind up hurting yourself through any of it. Compulsions are hard to combat, and he doesn't want you to think of how you might make things harder on yourself.

What's important is that you have a safe space to feel what you need to feel. It doesn't matter how horribly silly you think you sound when the germs are close, to him it's something that people need to take seriously. You're not comfortable. It doesn't take much to make some minor adjustments for your sake.

Sure, you'll also need to work on some of your habits. But, putting all the work on your shoulders now and nobody else will never improve things. There are ways everyone can pitch in to make you feel safe in your body. It doesn't take much to be considerate. That's how Saeran feels about it.

He won't judge you when you come to him in tears about how tough it was for you to deal with your compulsion today.

He has an open-arm policy ready for you when you need him to be there. What do you need him to do? He'll do whatever you ask so things feel cleaner and safe, and he'll even wait for you to run through your steps so you're not alone when you need to repeat something a few times.

Mainly, he's just there when you need to be compressed in a hug that doesn't feel like you're suffocating. Which, sometimes, that's the best medicine for you. You just want to have no stimuli but the rocking of his heartbeat. The feeling of his hand stroking down your back is the best thing you could ever ask for, right?

"No matter how alone you feel in your fears, I will never leave you to suffer alone in the darkness. I will always be here to lull you to peace until you feel ready to come back to the light," he will murmur against the sound of your heartbeat. "Even if we fall into the darkness on the bad days, there will always be time to find the warmth later. But, for now, let's find peace from the cold together... until you feel ready to talk about it."

[fearlingcontrolled]

I'm afraid of germs.

"Then I suppose you see all of the germs surrounding us constantly?" Pitch purred, leaning closer. "Every sneeze, every cough leaves traces on your hair, on your skin, on the surfaces you touch. You breathe in germs, and that is why you get sick so often. Oh, perhaps not the flu or with a pox, but have you ever woken up with a sore throat that goes away by lunchtime?" He grinned widely before drawing closer still, exhaling his next answer in just a soft whisper. "Germs."

[dizzified]

He's a severe hypochondriac and a germaphobe.

British accent.

He is very tall.

Has a medical degree and is a licensed doctor but won't use his skills.

Refuses to help sick and injured people due to his own personal trauma and aversion to germs and illness.

Due to not allowing himself to be exposed to sicknesses, his immune system has weakened over the years, and when he does get sick, it can be life-threatening. 

Has an older sister named Janile, who works as a biochemist. 

Despite being almost 30, he's aged from stress to the point he already has grey hair and looks twice his age. 

Is allergic to dirt.

Ex-boyfriend to Saga Lenvire.

His germaphobia and hypochondria was way less severe before he met him.

Saga would purposely trigger Veirium, 'accidentally' wiping dirt on him, shoving him into mud, handing him dusty, dirty, or otherwise unclean objects, covering him in dust, and using his cloak to clean things before giving it back to him. He also was a manipulative gasligher who loved to make Veirium feel insane, influencing him to do detrimental things before turning around and blaming him for it, claiming that he never told him to do so. He was also someone who made Veirium believe he was constantly ill, driving him to over-medicate and harm himself to try to fix illnesses that weren't there, only for Saga to reprimand him for it.

Saga intentionally made Veirium's entire town sick, instantly pressuring and pushing him to make a cure, behind the guise of being supportive of him and worried for everyone. Behind Veirium's back, he tampered with the cure, before hounding him to release it unfinished, and despite his apprehensions, ultimately ending up in him doing so, which led to the death of the entire town, including Veirium's family outside of his older sister.

Saga ended up leaving Veirium in the aftermath with a note blaming him for everything that had happened, and Veirium swamped with the trauma and guilt of believing he caused the death of everyone in his hometown, refused to use his skills to help anyone medically ever again, out of fear that he'd once again end up killing someone.

The situation left him with not only massive amounts of trauma but his relationship with Saga had caused his hypochondria and germaphobia to become borderline crippling. 

To this day, that guilt still hangs on his shoulders.

Veirium will clean every surface possible, he always carries cleansing supplies with him and despite wearing gloves, won't touch anything unless it's been thoroughly cleaned, and his definition of thoroughly clean means not being able to see a molecule of dust or grime on it. 

He often deprives himself of sleep in favor of compulsively cleaning. 

His eyesight isn't the best, therefore, he wears glasses.

Other than for washing it on a regular basis, Veirium doesn't like taking off his cloak, as he feels safe and protected when wearing it, unless it's dirty. But just in-case, he also wears a mask aswell.

He carries pepper spray for protective reasons, especially because he doesn't like people getting too close to him.

If you cough or sneeze in his presence, he will spontaneously combust. 

He has a habit of taking things way too far when it comes to his health, he's one to resort to drastic measures if he believes he's ill or infected and isn't above trying to cut off his own body parts or cut his body open in general to attempt to remove whatever he believes is ailing him. In his mind, that's the only way to fix things.

Despite having a medical degree and being good at his job when working with other people, when it comes to himself, he throws everything out the window in favor of panicking. Due to his knowledge of medicine, he's quick to just down medication he doesn't need if he believes it's necessary. 

He used to have long hair but ended up cutting it short and slicking it back due to long hair attracting more germs.

He is a complete shut-in and barely goes outside of his house for anything. 

He is often confused for being a plague doctor. 

Like a standard doctor, he has horrible writing abilities, and despite saying it's perfectly legible, it is indeed not. 

[cursedchildofchaos]

I was in a cafeteria recently and some dude was shirtless.

Excuse me, but who the hell does that?!

[whumpshaped]

Beck is forced to work late by his boss and can't show up in time for Helle's feeding? -- @oliversrarebooks

what do u mean u dont just immediately walk out of the office at sundown so u can be in time for feeding ur vampire bf (gender neutral)

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, phobia exploitation (plus intrusive thoughts and all that, it's beck's germaphobia), choking, conditioning, manhandling, dehumanisation

"I really need to go," Beck tried again. "I need to get home for– for a thing. It's kind of important."

Christie waved him off. "It's just one more thing and then you can go. It'll only take a second."

"I can do it first thing tomorrow!"

"Yeah, you could, but I need it today. It's literally just a couple signatures. God, the printer is acting up... One second."

Beck glanced at the clock again, anxiously bouncing his leg. He was fiddling with his mask near constantly, waiting for the stupid printer to finally spit out that paper. It was ridiculous; they needed a new printer about yesterday... or two years ago. Christie kept insisting it was fine. It clearly wasn't fine now.

"Christie, please, I need to go."

"I thought you were over your fear of the dark," she shot back, and Beck tried to stay calm. His reason for fearing the dark was probably standing around his apartment complex by now, wondering where the hell he was and whether he'd run off. They were in fact probably thinking up new, innovative ways to indirectly punish him.

"I am. This isn't about– I just need to go, okay? I'm sorry. I'll come in early and sign it for you tomorrow." He left her office without another word, quickly grabbing his coat and bag.

"Hey!" Christie ran out after him. "You can't just walk out like that! Where do you think you are?"

"I'm sorry!" he repeated as he rushed towards the door. "It'll be signed and on your desk before you get here tomorrow! Have a good night!"

He sprinted down the stairs and towards the front door, pushing it open and continuing the dash to his car. He was almost there when someone grabbed him by the collar of his coat, dragging him back and into a darker, more secluded area on the other side of the building.

"Helle, please, I was going home! I was trying to get home! I was trying!" Beck could barely care about the fact that he dropped his bag on the middle of the sidewalk for any fortunate person to find, with his wallet and all of his papers in it. Fuck, Christie was going to see it, and she was going to see his car as well. Would she think he was a liar? "Please, not here, I just ran away from my boss– I told her it was important, she's gonna see the car, please–"

Helle slammed him against the wall. "You were late," they said simply, making quick work of the mask before Beck could've even protested. "So I came to pick you up. I was quite worried. 'Whatever could have happened to my darling Beck?' It was quite the nerve-racking experience."

"Please, give that back," he tried to snatch his mask from their hand, but the vampire held it up and away from him. "Please, please, I– I need that–"

"I need blood way more than you need this. And we are outside now, you can breathe in all this fresh air."

"Please!" he cried desperately, and Helle pinned him to the wall by the throat in response, cutting off his air altogether.

"Or not. There are other ways of ensuring one does not breathe in anything harmful," they cooed. "Why don't you take a moment and calm down, hm?"

His lungs were burning. He had already been out of breath from running, and at this point he was sure he was going to pass out. He squeezed his eyes shut, letting the tears trickle down his face and onto Helle's hand that was still preventing him from drawing a breath.

And then they released him.

He fell to his knees immediately, coughing and sputtering. His throat ached terribly and his vision was still swimming, but at least he could breathe. His intrusive thoughts regarding the transmission of whatever deadly disease were momentarily overridden by his fear of immediate death, and he knew exactly what he was going to use his air for.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, triggering another coughing fit. "I'm s-sorry, I tried– I tried to get home, I'm sorry..."

"Get up, Beck."

"I j-just need a moment–"

"I do not have a moment."

He somehow pushed himself to his feet and leaned back against the wall, still breathing heavy. He resisted the urge to ask whether the vampire believed him, having gathered that they were not in the mood to listen to his blabbering.

"Do not be late again," they said, as if it was that simple.

"I–"

"Ah. Stop right there." They waited a moment, seemingly pleased with Beck closing his mouth and nervously biting the inside of his cheek instead. "I do not care for your excuses tonight. I will repeat this one last time: do not be late again."

Beck swallowed, the feeling of Helle's fingers closing around his throat still lingering. He knew what he was expected to say. It was just so hard when this entire situation had been out of his control, and he'd actually tried to be good. He had. And now Helle wasn't listening.

"Yes, Master," he said quietly, obediently tilting his head to the side.

"There you go. Good boy." They held up the simple cloth mask, and Beck's eyes followed the movement. He couldn't help shooting them a pleading look, suddenly all too aware of his exposed face. "You can have it back after I have had my fill. You need to learn to prioritise."

"Y-yes, Master," he repeated even more dejectedly.

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight

[loadedchekhovsgun]

cwilburs scar refs you made ☹️☹️☹️ thats so tragic

forgiveme for typos it is currnelty 5:18 am and i cannot open my eyes past a Sliver🤏

THEYRE TEERIBLE okay let me explainn BIG TWS. suicide talk and also sort of implied sh??

the big scar on his back across his ribs was his final control room death the one on his left shoulder is his second arrow death (which actualy got infected in my canon and he almsot had to get that arm amputated, he still has subtly more trouble using that arm) and then the big gold one is his third death Obvi all the other littler scars are just ones that still lingered after the wars (the body doesnt physically change past new injuries in limbo 2 me) i cant remember if theres any visible on his front but i know theres more visible on his back to resemble his trust issues/paranoia (backstabbers/traitors and all)

the lightning thing is sooo everythign to me he had. two swords with him on that boat to ""utah"" and he Still couldn't bring himself to just do it himself . luckily being in the fucking ocean during a fucking storm did that for him; the first one was the one on the base of his neck, it fully paralysed him and was fucking Agonising Obviously and the second one was the one right by his heart which was a lot stronger of a bolt + resulted in him dying from, ironically, cardiac arrest. the ones on his heels are from the electricity going up throigh the water and all. it makes me insane those scar refs mean a lot 2 me

OHOH the umm the stitches on his neck are from an injury in limbo from breaking the dot matrix same as the stitches on his face the glass flew out at him the wrong way and all and limbo wounds Never Heal and Perpetually Hurt just like when you got them until revival its bad and then the wound on his arm.perpetually bleeds it used to be a wither effected area from nov 16 when he was dying and got hit by one and at one point he wanted to test if the trains were. corporeal. long story short they are snd you shouldnt lay your arm on a train track the injury was a Lot worse prerevival

all scarring on his elbows/knuckles/wrists etc are from limbo, from hitting things and clawing the walls and such he wears nail polish to distract from how permanently worn his nails are and his gloves are to cover the hand scarring (+ help w/ his germaphobia)

SORY rambled thats yuor in depth review 🫶🫶🫶

[thefanboyhub]

I said I could make an essay about why Cleaning/Organizing is one of my strongest coping skills so I am going to because I can.

(Writing and explaining myself are my other coping skills 😔)

Uhhhh TW: Trauma ✨(?)

For starters one of the things I've been forced to do since a young age— mostly due to the whole gender standards but also because of lazy fucking adults in my life— is clean. I would clean anything and everything, all they had to do was ask and I had to follow. It wasn't really that bad until after foster care. One of my mom's boyfriends at the time was a lazy piece of shit, claimed to be disabled but he wasn't, he was just extremely lazy and obese (not fat shaming but he was very clearly the unhealthy kind of fat, y'know the kind that actually does kill you) plus he didn't want to work. He'd have me and my brother do the laundry, have me clean just about everything (all at 8 years old by the way) except vacuuming because I wasn't tall enough to do it right.

That's wasn't the bad though I honestly didn't mind it unless it was a massive mess and made me wanna kill myself with how gross it was. The part that really traumatized me is a two parter and involves my oh so lovely Gran (she can fucking die and I'd be leaping with joy).

First part is the fact that if I didn't do a chore (which of course as the only "girl" and because girls "do things better than boys" I had to do the dusting, cleaning the table, vacuuming, and the bathroom I shared with my brothers, plus mopping once a month, my laundry and help my Gran do everyone else's laundry, AND CLEAN NY ENTIRE ROOM.) right or her way, I would have to redo it. I would have to redo it until I did it right. If it looked like I didn't vacuum, I was forced to revaccum the entire house again. If I didn't clean the baseboards right she would make me move everything off the walls and clean it entirely. When we had stairs, if I didn't clean them right I would have to redo them again. On top of repeating these chores over and over again I also got basically all my privileges taken: Phone, TV, Art supplies, my books a few times, going outside, and other stuff I can't remember.

Which led to the second part of this. I would clean and organize my room for fun when I had stuff taken from me. What else was I gonna do? I couldn't just sit there and daydream or sleep, I would be yelled and and grounded longer for that. So I daydreamed while I cleaned and organized my room. Sometimes I'd reorganize our kitchen and stuff, anything to be busy and not get yelled at or get brownie points so I can have something back.

This slowly became a habit for me. Grounded? Time to rearrange my stuff. Stressed? Clean the bathroom. Trying not to cry because she's right there yelling at you for attitude again for the tenth time this morning? Time to deep clean my room. Anything negative would trigger my response to clean and organize. Even if it's already clean I would clean it. It even got to the point where I clean myself too. I developed germaphobia. I was almost diagnosed by this one therapist I was forced to see at one point with OCD because of the cleaning habits. Fun times.

But some other stuff that contributed to the whole cleaning coping skills would be that it gives me control, a blank start, and physical activity. Moving furniture around, cleaning the walls (oh yeah she made me clean a wall with a toothbrush once. Halfway up the wall she let me switch to a rag so eh.) on my hands a knees scrubbing the tile floor of the kitchen. It helps me get the aggression that my mom and I worked so hard to keep under a tight hold out of my system. It makes me feel as if I have a new start when I'm in a clean space, specifically if I cleaned it. On top of that I also feel on control. The act of cleaning is controlling the environment. I have control over what I clean and how.

Anyways. This was all started because of today. I lost a friend (they aren't dead they just don't want to be friends with me anymore). I struggle with social situations and for 7 years I only had one friend and she left about a year ago. I was 15 when I finally started to have more than one friend. I've basically lost everyone at this point minus one maybe two but even then they get along better so yeah. I suck at making friends, socializing, and all that stuff. Which also means when I lose a friend it causes me great distress and makes me freak the fuck out. I started cleaning my room at 9 pm and I only got done with it at 10:23 pm so yeah. Coping skills yuh.

[kozykricket]

its quite interesting how i find it easier to accept that nature is not all sunshine and rainbows, that it is violent than to accept that in reality, in the real world, nature is Unclean *uncleanliness* is a big thing for me and like

(uh, potential TW? gets randomly into identity and responsibilities n stuff from here on out but tldr is my germaphobia is massive and i kinda need to fix that lol, i just got on a tangent)

i just, sometimes wish there wasnt risk of like disease or sickness from touching shit and then like, gettin that on you or in you by accident. always thought of that as the biggest flaw of humans. my... ocds big thing is washing my hands you'd honestly think i'd be really into the idea of robogender for myself because of that but surprisingly no; theres just something about having a physical, biological, and organic body thats very cool to me but aaa like i was thinking of takin responsibilities for like outdoors stuff (me n family live on a rural property) but its honestly intimidating the idea of... gettin my hands dirty! gotta get over that tho lol. it is funny though how im so, like, omg cottagecore i love plants and nature so much and its so much deeper than just pretty plants and oh overgrown stuff is so cool and i understand the delicate balance of nature but as soon as it gets to Dirt on my Hands im like eek! im just. a little dainty(?) in that sense. i suppose i can call myself cute for that but also i oughta get past my germaphobia lol