Weaver Dice - Trigger Events
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You are a priest/nun who has been sent to a church in a religously conflicted area. Nobody wishes to attend, and for weeks the only visitors you've had have been hostile or argumentative. It's Sunday mass and you might have to close down, but you brighten up as the doors open. A single man walks up to you, and throws a molotov at your feet. You trigger as the flames erupt and burn your legs.TreeFrogSoupOnce a trigger is used, remove completely from this list, and add to used triggers tab (see bottom of page).

Moronic, joke, and thoughtless triggers aren't as cool as you think they are. They just make everyone's experience less fun, and force us to reroll to get worthwhile stuff.

Sign your work.
Smoking weed with the homies, you invite a new buyer to your crib. Everything seems kosher, the deal goes fine, you toke together, all cool. Later in the day, a group of people force their way into your home, and you manage to get the gun, shooting one in the stomach. The others don't appreciate that at all. They beat you savagely, before pointing the gun in your face. As you see the hammer pull back, you trigger, mouthing a silent prayer to your lord and savior Snoop D.SmokeWeedGuy       Please Avoid:
                * Peanut Triggers (Dumb)
                * Dead/maimed child Triggers (Way overdone for a long while)
                * Rape Triggers (Almost always badly done, overdone)
                * Events that would never ever happen or...
                * Contrived events that'd only happen with powers involved
                * Forcing trump triggers

                * Note classifications below, fill gaps.
It had been going so well. Your small business was successful, you had a wonderful fiancée, and your family looked at you in envy at your success. But then you got a bit confident, jumped off a small height into the water, showing off. Now, you knew, that you should have checked the water before. But you didn't, and you broke your neck. A one in a million chance, the docs said, that you survived. A one in a billion chance that you can even still regain the strength in your legs. And you were happy that you did too, of course! But then... your life fell apart. Your family didn't visit you as you were lying in that hospital bed, unable to move your head. You could no longer work, and the money got tight - your business had to close. You trigger as your fiancée closes the door behind her, the ring in your hand being the only thing she left behind.Vern

Keep track of resulting powers & classifications as triggers are removed from list:
Mover: 11
Breaker: 8
Master: 16
Tinker: 8
Shaker: 9
Blaster: 7
Thinker: 15
Striker: 10
Brute: 7
Changer: 9
Trump: 3
Stranger: 10
A head injury leads to induced prosopagnosia - the inability to recognize people, even when you know what they look like you can't connect the dots and put a name to the face. You're alone in a crowd of your loved ones, trigger.
Car Wash? A hood ornament was struck free, and you opt to go collect it before it can pop a tire, cause problems, or the customer returns. You tell the next customer to wait two minutes, sprint through to collect the ornament, and your foot gets caught in the track for one of the roaming sprayers. Two minutes pass, and the wash whirs to life. The wax application gun is right above you, and a drop lands on your shoulder. Vents for hot water are on either side. You trigger as the door begins to open, the hoses on the far side already begin to spray, then ones closer to you...-Wildbow
Your parents divorced, and it would be something of an understatement to say you were caught in the middle. In a ceaseless struggle to 'win' the divorce, you were the biggest playing piece, used against one parent and then used against the other. For your mother you were the carer, the listening ear, the sensitive one, acting as if you shared in her outrage over your father's actions. To your father you were the disciplined student, the careful one, the 'good' child. Putting on a brave face in school, trying to act normal around friends, you nonetheless were being pulled into pieces as sure as someone who was being drawn and quartered. You started to slip, elements bleeding over. Everyone seemed to turn on you, as you betrayed their expectations. It was almost a relief, to be done with it all, to be hated. You pawned off every gift you'd been given to curry favor, and bought a train out, with no plans to return. But sitting in your seat, you felt anxiety take hold. You didn't know who to be. Paralyzed, you trigger.-Wildbow
You were born with multiple defects, due to having a junkie bitch of a mother. Your legs never grew to the right height or muscle mass, your left eye never worked, and you were born with HIV. People look at you with pity in their eyes from the get-go, but you finally manage to fit in with a group of misfits. One day, you come clean about having HIV. They all seemed cool with it, at first. Slowly, the phone stops ringing so often. Whole weeks go by without you seeing your friends. You finally confront them. They tell you it's nothing personal, but you skeeve them out. You're gross. Infected. Physical defects they could deal with, but AIDS? You aren't worth the risk. You trigger as they walk past you.SCG
Your kid went down the wrong road. The divorce had something to do with it, you were distracted, your priorities elsewhere. You let the kid linger in the background while your ex poisoned them against you. Kind of a trend with you, letting things malinger. Your therapist clued you into what you'd done, and you tried to make it up to the kid, but maybe, in retrospect, working 75 hour weeks at a variety of jobs wasn't the way to do it. You lost your friends, and the kid took higher priority. As the kid approaches adolescence, the cops come to the door, warrant in hand. Stowed in the basement is a massive collection of stolen phones, and the cops tracked a gps signal to one. Your kid, going down the wrong path. You cop to the crime you didn't commit, a final apology, a way of making it all up to them. As you leave the courthouse, having just pled out for a twelve year sentence, you approach the ex, intent on asking them to help the kid find the right path. You stop in your tracks when the kid flips you the bird, and you realize you've thrown your life away trying to fix an unfixable problem.-Wildbow
Always a bit aggressive, you rarely held back and never pulled your punches when someone really deserved it. You always told yourself that they started it, that you were only a bit impulsive, but not really the one to initiate such fights. Then you overdid it - the son of an important man in town crossed your path, and you beat him into a bloody pulp, sending him to the hospital for months. You didn't even get to see his release, as you were arrested. You trigger in court, after all your friends betray you in the witness stand, restrained by the bailiff as the sentence is spoken.Vern
You've loved her since you were kids, but it never got as far as you wanted it to. You were always seeing other people, one always in a relationship while the other was single. You would have dropped anyone, if she had asked. But she didn't. The final time you were both single at the same time, you waited one day too late. Someone else swooped her off of her feet. You weren't happy, but you tried to be, for her. You stayed in touch, but you never got married. You always held out hope. Years pass, and you never noticed the signs, until it was too late. You trigger when you hear the news: Her husband stabbed her over 40 times, until she bled to death on their front porch.Somecrazyguy
You love spooky stories, creepy tales and the latest urban legends. You hunt them down, try to prove them, rush through the strangest of places. This time you are investigating a monster in the depths of an old school that the mayor promised to rebuild, but never did. Your flashlight flickers slightly as you turn into a small room, until you come face to face with the beast... the first time any of the legends are actually true. Or not. You recognize the symbol on it: "C". Finally standing in front of a true legend, you see the beast look up and rush at you, attempting to bite your head of. You can't move... and you trigger as you feel the monster's fangs pierce your skin.Vern
You miss her. She was a wonderful girl, someone who you could have spent the rest of your life with. But she went ahead and died, leaving you miserable, sitting alone at her funeral. Her siblings used to be your best friends, and all they do now is leave you, ignoring you, talking with everyone but you. It's not like you don't notice. All her friends, all the people that bothered to appear, but not one word for you. You trigger as you stand in front of the crowd, trying to find your voice to give a small speech, while everyone seems to be busy doing anything instead of listening to you. They can't even give her that final honor.Vern
Your family has lived in America for years ever since you were little. You're used to keeping your head down, avoiding anything that would involve put yourself out there or attracting unwanted attention. That's why you didn't know anybody you could turn to when the dreaded IT happens. The door to your house is open when you get home from school, and nobody is home. The place is a mess, as if there was a struggle. You wait in your wrecked home for hours, curled up on the couch as the pit in your stomach growing larger with each passing minute. Eventually you have to face the facts: You're utterly alone, left behind in a country that doesn't want you there. Trigger.Teller
You see a stray dog staggering up the street, malnourished and possibly injured. Your heart breaks, and you rush forward to feed it some of your lunch. Trigger as the dog attacks you, knocking you into the mud and tearing into your hand with enough maddened vigor that you feel teeth scraping boneTeller
You were quiet and shy. You didn't bother anybody, nobody bothered you, and that's how you liked it. Your body had different plans, however. You're the first girl in class to start developing, and how - growing out of every bra bought for you, even having to get new shirts. It's awful. The boys ogle and whisper lewd comments, but there are a pair of girls who are worse. They're the popular ones who are used to getting all of the attention, and they've decided you must be punished for having the audacity to hit puberty before them. They overpower you in the locker room and frogmarch you through the halls naked for all to see, 'SLUT' written across your chest in permanent marker. Trigger.Teller
You wake up paralyzed in the pool house of your place. Your memory is fragmented, and you feel like crap. Laying there, unable to move of your own volition, you slowly piece it together. Months of you feeling unwell, your significant other making excuses, calling into work, the dim awareness that you'd lost your job... and your health kept deteriorating. You've had the realization before, a dozen times now that you've woken up, seen your significant other enter the pool house, and feed you your dinner, after which you would slip away. Seasons have passed, and your significant other and the kids are living their lives, getting condolences as they help you with your 'illness'. Knowing you don't have long before your next meal and next dosage, you can't bring yourself to move. You trigger as you fight to make even a fingertip move.-Wildbow
Raves weren’t usually your thing, but when you were dragged to one by your friends, you found yourself enjoying it far more than you had any right to enjoy. You enjoy yourself all night, ordering but one or two drinks, and, in a rare fit of adventurism, you took a small pill that had been offered to you. Hours later, as the rave ended, you are pretty certain the pill was nothing more than an aspirin, and more importantly, the people you thought were your friends were long gone. As you wander the dark alleys leading from the rave’s abandoned building, you realize just how lost you are, how long each shadow seems, and how very unnervingly quiet the city was after all that bass and music. It started to become harder and harder to swallow the acrid fear bubbling up from your stomach, as the darkness seemed to pull at you, beckoning you closer. You found yourself shivering as you struggle not to panic. A voice reaches out in the dark, saying, “Hey, you!” With something between a croak and a gasp of fear, you run, straight out of the alley and into the street. You are struck by a flood of light as a massive garbage truck approaches at full speed. You barely have time to figure out what to do as you trigger.Ergoemos
Two years, seven months together. It's lovely, at first, finally free from the overbearing family, but living alone, just the two of you, is hard. Neither of you can hold a job for long, and after the first three or four she goes through, she just kind of... stops. Maybe it's shock, disappointment, the blatant, glaring disparity between the ideals she held and the life you live now, but when she's not asleep, she's screaming, cursing at you, blaming you for everything. You've sold off most of what you own now, but even with that it seems impossible to help her. After coming back from the psychiatrist, scheduling an appointment for next week, you come home to find her lying cold and unbreathing in the bath. You're numb, unthinking, halfway through your call with the psychiatrist, cancelling the appointment, when the phone drops from your hand and it finally sinks in.Antioch
You were in a bad place. You made a mistake. Your perspective was warped, while you were deep in depression, and you knew you wanted to end it and you wanted people to care, to notice. So you took a nosedive off a highway into active traffic. You lived, two cars of people didn't, as they swerved to avoid and ultimately crashed. You got medication and began to find your mental footing again, but a part of you wished you hadn't. Nurses wouldn't meet your eye, there were news reports of you, and a whole city of people had commentary on how selfish the act was. Your family is supportive, but what good does it do? You arrive home to find hateful messages painted onto your porch and the face of your house, and you trigger while scrubbing ineffectually to try and clean it, noticing a car slowly driving by, the driver glaring at you.Wildbow
For the last three days it's been the same. She lets you out into the woods. She catches you again. She breaks something else. It's the fourth day, and you've got one working leg. She says she'll break your back if you can't escape after this round of her "game". You trigger in the forest as she steps into your view.TreeFrogSoup
You live in a town hit by disaster - gang war, Endbringer, it doesn't matter - and you want to get out, to get away to a safer place. An old friend is willing to rent. The day after you arrive, the Endbringer Sirens wake you up. You trigger.TreeFrogSoup
You lose your legs, she loses her life. After the funeral, the entire community in which you live in fractures, because of how well known and liked your ex-wife was. Your family becomes distant, and sides are taken. Jokes have an air of malice to them, family gatherings are awkward. People treat you differently and hold things against you. One year later, you go to a bar with some cousins. Your ex-brother-in-law is there, drinking heavily. He pulls you out of your wheelchair, screaming curses and promises to do to you what you did on accident. He wins over the crowd of the bar, and your friends leave you there as a circle forms. You trigger as he punches you in the face and everyone watches from a safe distance.TreeFrogSoup
You studied for this, trained for months cramming your head full of facts and trivia. Now you're in the gameshow's final round, with a million dollars on the line, all or nothing, and you panic. You pick an answer and realize it's stupidly, hilariously wrong a nanosecond after you choose it - a joke answer that was supposed to make things easier. The host says some comforting words, but they turn into background noise, blending in with the dull roar in your ears. All you can think about is how your friends, your family, the entire nation, all saw how stupidly you just threw away 1 million dollars. Trigger.Teller
You're working underneath your piece of crap car, trying to find the source of a strange noise you've been hearing lately. You're covered in grease and oil, exhausted, and not thinking clearly. You didn't use jack stands, you didn't block the wheels...and now the vehicle rolls forward, and tons of steel slam down on top of you. Trigger.Teller
Your team is practicing at the field. A few of you are doing laps, others are practicing their hammer throws. The coach has stepped away for a few minutes, and  a few people are goofing off. You're working on your discus technique, not paying much attention to anyone else, when you hear a collective cry of warning. You turn around just fast enough to see the javelin before it slams into your stomach. Trigger.Teller
You hate doctors. Hate them. That's why when you sliced your leg open on the playground, you didn't tell anyone. Not even when it started to smell funny, or turned black and green. A few days, later, you're finding it hard to concentrate on what the teacher is saying, and the blackboard has gone blurry. You collapse, and wake up in a strange place, head still fuzzy and throbbing. Tubes are sticking out of your arm, there's a mask over your face...wait, is this an ambulance? Oh hell no. You struggle to get up, kicking over equipment, biting and kicking the EMTs that are now pinning you down. They're too strong, and there's no way you can escape. Trigger.Teller
You slept with the wrong girl, a mob boss's daughter, maybe his wife. Long story short, you're being shoved feet-first into an ice chipper, and as it stutters and grinds its way through your thighs, spattering you and your captors in copious amounts of bloody giblets, you trigger.Prothean
You can safely say that you are a content and generally happy person. Sure, there's some rough spots in life that anybody would experience, but you've got a job you love and a hobby that generally gives you drive to continue on. Specifically, stamp collecting. You've got dozens upon dozens of rare, unique, and valuable stamps, framed and hung around the small office in your duplex. You take massive pride in the collection, pariticipating in stamp forums, stamp gatherings, and are a bit of a legend in some communities. Until one day, as you return home from your job at the post office, you catch sight of a plume of smoke in the distance. A plume of smoke uncomfortably close to your stamp collection. You race home, but it's too late. A fire engine sits in front of the still blazing skeleton of your house, firemen milling about as it dies down, but you rush past them despite their efforts to stop you, plunging through embers and flame as you scramble for your stamps. You reach them, but at great cost- a supporting beam, weakened by the fires, collapses as you pass it, trapping you and your stamps within the inferno. As the flames spread from you to your cherished collection, you trigger.Prothean
You learned a very important lesson in life today: Gas station bathrooms are not a smart place to try your luck with a glory hole. Some sick sadistic psycho rigged up a food processor behind it, and you just stuck your schlong in it.Prothean
You went in for plastic surgery, now nobody will meet you in the eye. People are talking behind your back, saying the doctors did something very, very wrong, but won't say it to your face. You had everything done, head to toe, and the damage is impossible to put into words, but it's twisted everything, ruined every relationship. Slowly, the truth becomes apparent. Your brother had the surgeon do it because of sibling rivalry, your mom helped him, and in reality, everyone's fucking with you, to the point of ruining your damn /body/. Your attempts to go to police and hospitals are met with skepticism, even after you show them the damage. It all comes to a head when your family corners you, surrounds you, and try to extend the lie to mess with you - that you're a schizophrenic having your first break, it's all the schizophrenia, it's /not/ okay to strip naked in hospital waiting rooms and police department lobbies, and they aren't your enemy. Then they prove the lie by trying to take every last thing from you by suggesting you go to a hospital. A permanent stay in a padded cell. Seething, outraged and lost, you trigger.
It started with identity theft. Cards declined, money disappearing from accounts, even as you changed to new ones. You almost lost your job, and even after you recovered it, you still had wary looks from your employer. It seems whoever is doing this to you isn't content to do economic and social injury, stealing your name, but physical injury as well. Loan sharks they hired come after you, guns in hand, apparently intent on making an example out of you for crimes you didn't commit.-Wildbow
It's almost the end of your first year of teaching, and you're feeling satisfied with yourself. Sure, there was that girl who was such a troublemaker early on, but you managed to talk to her and she's been on great behaviour ever since - other teachers are asking how you managed to connect with her so well, and even her parents have arranged meetings with you to thank you. Everything's going swimmingly, you think - until you're summoned to the headmaster's office and find her there, with her parents staring daggers at you. She points at you, and you're stunned as she pours out a tale of horrible abuse at your hands. It's all false, but there's no way you can prove it; her tale is perfectly plausible, and nobody is about to accuse her of falsehood in this matter. You trigger.-pantherasapiens
There's a little bit of forest you used to go to all the time when you were young, and you still go there when you want a break from the dash of city life. Like all things from your childhood, it seems so much smaller now, and safer. Except not anymore - it turns out a gang's hiding in there, and now you're running madly through the woods as they chase after you, firing their guns whenever they catch sight of you. You daren't go out in the open where you're an easy target, but they're closing in on your position... You trigger as one of them breaks through the brush and fires at you.-pantherasapiens
The blackmailer just wouldn’t stop. At first it was just money. It was enough to hurt, but not worth everyone knowing your secret. Then it was documents from your government job which he somehow obtained records of you accessing. Then it was insurance fraud, then arson, and each time the evidence mounted against you. Eventually your original crime looked petty compared to all the things you’d done to keep people from knowing. Standing above the body of the man he’s told you to kill you hear the sirens. The police are already beating in the door. You’ve outlived your usefulness. He’s cashed you in. Trigger.-HamsterStrong
Average weight, average height. The median grade in your class. The days pass by, and you are unremarkable. You made a few friends at first, but they quickly drifted away. You can’t hold their interest. You’re just a background character, sinking further into an unnoticeable isolation in a seething mass of indifference. And you find yourself staring down, at the gathering crowd and police sirens, and smile. A memorable death. Faced on your own terms. Maybe they’ll finally remember you. But the scream tears from your lips as you plummet down, down, down, and you realize just how overdone, how cliche it is to commit suicide by jumping. As mediocre in death as you are in life.Antioch
Your mother was the aide to a big-name politician and got caught the scandal. Now her face is all over the news, and everyone has heard that awful sound bite. Just signing your name makes strangers look at you funny. You can't turn on the television without some reporter or comic tearing into your beloved mom. At work, people seem hesitant to give you choice assignments, as if corruption is contagious. This one jerk in the office keeps making jokes and you cannot do anything about it if you want to keep this job. You really need to keep this job. Then you get the phone call- one of your best friends is seriously ill. Right then, right then, Mr. Funny decides to let loose another of his oh-so-funny mom jokes. You trigger.Boomslang
You crossed the wrong grandmother. See, you've gotten on people's bad sides before, but this time, wow. You ripped off an old woman, and her grandson worked for this guy. He's a debt collector, and out of generosity and goodwill, he offered to handle the assrat (you) who went after a nice old lady. You took her stuff and knocked her down, but you didn't realize it was enough of a knock to hospitalize her. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that he's got you tied down, a hose up your rear and down your throat, and he's using a wooden rod to help ram liquid concrete down that hose. You're to be made an example of, you see. You trigger as you feel the weight in your gut, burning.-Wildbow
You try to off yourself. Pills. It doesn't work, but it tears the shit out of your gut, leaving you to wake up in a pile of your own puke. You try the noose, and damage your windpipe, but fail to break your neck. Slit your wrists, even going down the road, getting as far as you can before the pain is too much, and wake up in a crimson bathtub, haggard but alive. The human body is so remarkably resilient, honed by years of natural selection, and try as you might, perhaps with the help of a natural proclivity for living, you can't seem to kill yourself. Getting a hangun, you put it in your mouth and pull the trigger. Too small a caliber, perhaps. You blow a hole out the back of your head, but miss anything too vital. Sitting there in unbelievable pain, you wait to bleed out and fade away, at the very least, only to find that death doesn't come. You trigger out of equal measures frustration and overall pain.
It is the worst case scenario. You're the first this morning to enter the lab where you do all your biohazard work, testing bacteria, parasites, viruses and potential cures, when the lights go off, the emergency lighting and sirens kicking in. In your sprint to the end of the hall, you see the disaster, a cart tipped, containers broken. You stand there, your heart dropping into your stomach, knowing you've already died. The papers that were on the cart read, very simply, 'Canberra'. The Simurgh. The name is enough to push you to trigger.
Your coworker likes to scare you, and every time you're scared, you yelp in a way he thinks is hilarious. It isn't, but he thinks he can get a compilation online for millions of views. As you get more wary, he steps up his game. You don't know how he found out - you haven't told anyone in years - but he found out you had recurring nightmares as a kid, being clawed apart by clowns. Maybe it's meant as the capstone of his video, the final moment, meant to follow after a sniggering introduction to the moment. It doesn't matter. You're working the night shift when they come out of the woodwork. Dwarves in clown masks with Freddy Krueger gloves. They tackle you, climbing on you, puling you to the ground, and all reason goes out the window. In the panic, you don't realize that it's a mere accident that you fell on the points of one claw when you were pulled to the ground. Only a scratch, not important, but in your mind, the nightmare is coming real, your eyes on the clown masks and the claws that are about to tear you into tiny pieces.
You were enjoying your dinner in the mall restaurant when a cape fight broke out. A fireball was flung at the crowd, and a hero erected a timely forcefield, protecting you and others. But between destruction and the forcefields, you're effectively trapped as the fire rages around you. Others flee, the fight continues off in another direction, and you're left stuck in an enclosure of forcefields and shattered booths. The fire around you isn't the problem, but the smoke is. You experience a fleeting moment of hope when the PRT arrives, dumping containment foam on fires, but that only serves to fix the surface problem. The forcefield keeps the containment foam from burying you, leaving you caught, still roasting while inhaling the too-hot smoke from fires burning beneath the floor. Trigger as hope fades and you realize you've been doomed to death by smoke and slow roasting.
Sophomore year, you rushed for an average of eight and a third yards per carry, all eyes were on you. Junior year, blew your knee out at an out of town game, nowhere for you to go but down, down, down, nothing but the ground left for you to fall to. By July, you made a whole bunch of brand new friends- people you used to look down on. And you’d figured out a way to make real money, selling ends to your friends and it felt stupendous, chrome spokes on your Japanese bike. But selling acid was a bad idea, and selling it to a cop was a worse one- the new law said seventeen-year-olds could do federal time; you were the first one.FOTH
You started to dress in your mother's clothes as a way to deal with her loss. You knew it was not normal, but it made you feel good. Meanwhile your father seemed to get stay away from the house, giving you more time by yourself, making you feel more alone. One day you decide to take a walk, dressed in drag. Not in your neighborhood of course, maybe even in a nearby town. It makes you feel less alone. One day, as you walk by, you meet your father, holding hands with a woman you don't know. You trigger when he looks at you and his expression betrays his disgust.Teruzi
Your SO has a bit of a temper issue. They lose it far too easily. But that's ok, you love them and you have learned to tiptoe around it. But you resent them for it. When they start drinking, you make yourself tiptoe even more around, but the resentment turns to hate. One night, after your SO comes home remarkably drunk, you've had enough. You scream, they scream, and soon things turn violent. Your SO manages to throw you to the floor, and in their rage, starts to choke you. You trigger when you feel your throat give way under their grip.

You live in a small town, where everyone knows everyone. You attract the attention of the local gang because you are homosexual/having an affair/having dyed hair. It really doesn't matter what gets them after you. But you know it was undeserved. One day, as you walk back home you're assaulted by gang members. They beat you hard enough that you can't stand properly, and your throat is sore from screaming. The smell of gasoline fills your nostrils as they pour it all over you. A match is lit. You trigger in horror.Teruzi
 It was a normal night, you and your significant other are cooking dinner, your one year old son playing, trying to climb up the table. Then your SO screams you hear a sickening 'thump'. You turn around to see your child bleeding from a broken head and seizing up. You trigger as you realize there's nothing you can do and paramedics will probably arrive too late.Spelt the Terribad
You found a nice chatroom online, but made a mistake. You started to lie, about your gender, about your personality, about your home, your friends. It seemed to be small at first, everyone lies on the internet right? So what if you pretend that you have cancer, or were abused as child, or that your parents threw you out when you were 15? But sadly you were a bit too open with some information that shouldn't be given freely - and then, one day, a person from the chat decides to drop by, a surprise visit, who knows your last name - but you didn't know that at first. When you told him you didn't know anyone with the name you gave in chat, you realize it, and he does too. You know each other from chat, and he immediately leaves. It didn't take long for him to log in and tell everyone, showing proof that he was actually there, and no one in chat is talking with you anymore until a mod steps in and bans you. You are left alone, staring at the screen - but nothing bad would come from this, right? Wrong. A week later you can find a picture online, chat message logs plastered all over, websites laughing about you, people insulting you after they found your social media profile, and in school/work nobody even looks you in the eye anymore.VereorNox
You've always been entranced with fire. The perfect vehicle of destruction, unrelenting in its beauty. You started small, just campfires, but you could hear the whispers in the crackling- "more, more, feed me more," it hissed. Eventually, you worked yourself up to the biggest boom of all: attempting to blow up a gas station. With your Molotovs, thermite, and homemade napalm in hand, you started firebombing a local truck stop as the fuel tanker pulled in to restock. You're in awe of the ensuing lightshow, not noticing until too late the fires licking up your arms and legs. Law enforcement finds you burning and wailing, suffering from smoke inhalation, and unceremoniously tosses you in the back of the van. You trigger in prolonged agony, entire body suffering under the callous hands of the master you served so faithfully, burns left untreated in the holding cell and screaming for water or relief from your pain.Antioch
You've been studiously working towards your degree, researching under some of the top scientific minds in the past few decades. You've been chugging along, dedicating your entire life towards this goal. You can visualize your dream perfectly, by this stage. Your name, right alongside the greats, on a world-changing report in the highest-esteemed scientific journals. It's these visions that distract you as you trip over a coolant tube, toppling into the path of a high-power laser beam, just as your research head flips it on. As the laser chars and sears your flesh, filling the lab with the very pleasant scent of cooking meat, you trigger.Prothean
You were never comfortable with how others treated you for being a girl. As a small child, you felt a flutter in your heart whenever someone called you "young man" and a feeling of revulsion whenever your parents corrected them. At the age of seven, you took a pair of scissors to every dress you owned in disgust; when you did it a second time, your parents stopped buying you dresses. As a teenager, you cut your hair short, wore boys' clothes, bound your breasts, and took to a more masculine diminutive of your name (Chris instead of Christine, Frankie instead of Francesca, Jessie instead of Jessica, etc). If people mistook you for a boy, you certainly didn't correct them, letting them be wrong for as long as possible. You joined the drama club at school, in part because it was a place where you could pretend to be the opposite sex more or less openly. You always went for male roles, avoiding female ones with a fiery passion. Some of your friends decided you should "branch out a little," made a dress in your size, and tried to force you into it. As you panic and fight against them, holding down bile at the thought of wearing clothes like that, you trigger.Nonagon
You're what they call a cape groupie. Somebody who is interested in capes, enough to do all kinds of things to get with one. You've bounced, once or twice, from a cape to the next, when they wound up arrested or moving out of the city. It's hard to get a new one, but capes, generally, like groupies. You're loyal, reliable, have stars in your eyes and can be extraordinarily helpful. Your latest parahuman paramour was a villain, really minor stuff. Robbing convenience stores, breaking into armored vans, the petty cape things. You came with them on a job, and it all went horribly wrong. Two people died, and the heroes are outside. You've got a gun, but you've never shot anybody before. Your lover is giving you the occasional half-hearted smile, trying to reassure you, at the same time as they try to come up with some way out of this. They never get the chance. The heroes burst in, and your beloved is on the ground in moments, your gun flying out of your hand as some cape screws you over before you can even take a shot. Trigger.Nonagon
You're waiting on a subway platform to head home after a long day of work when the person next to you jumps into the path of the oncoming train. Reflexively, you grab for their arm, but they pull you down with them. The next thing you know is the deafening screech of the car's brakes and the immense pressure and pain of your bisected body, pinned between the platform and train car. All you can see is the blood-stained side of the car, and to top it all off, you're pretty sure you shit yourself when your colon got crushed. Prothean
You're engaged in some... erotic behavior with your lover, culminating in you handcuffed to the bed, spread-eagle, your partner looming over you with a cat'o'nine-tails, when they suddenly collapse on you, not breathing. Trapped under them, and with the key to the cuffs on the dresser across the room, you wait for three grueling days, wearing your wrists and ankles raw against the cuffs, your lover's rotting body slowly filling with maggots. Your nose clogged with the stench of death, and the maggots making their way to your orifices and wounds, you trigger.Prothean
Your wife is barren - unable to concieve. After ten years and tens of thousands of dollars spent on every fertility treatment imaginable, she finally becomes pregnant. It's a grueling nine months, wracked with pains and suffering for her, but you make it together. However, just two weeks before the predicted delivery date, your wife enters labor early, at home. You rush her to the hospital, but the contractions have been slowly tearing her apart, dislocating her hips and tearing muscles. You wait nervously in the lobby, when a doctor approaches you. The internal bleeding was too much. Your wife is dead. And to top it all off, the baby died with her, drowned in its mother's blood. Prothean
You've finally found purpose in life- the armed forces. Boot camp was tough, but you made it, and you're now on your first deployment, delivering foreign aid to a Behemoth attack site. But something in the intricate machinery of the helicopter fails, and it stutters and tumbles out of the sky, plowing into the rubble, aflame. With your entire body covered in shredded wounds courtesy of the flying rubble, searing heat enroaching on the small pocket of safety that you lie bleeding in, you trigger.Prothean
You end up on the receiving end of a freak chain of events - completely undeserved. Not that that matters now, with your car, and you in it, buried under a massive mound of trash and detritus courtesy of the broken dump truck ahead of you. As the frame creaks and cracks spiderweb across the windshield, tons of crap about to crush you, you trigger. Prothean
He was your first real love, the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with, and he died. The two of you were expecting, and you had hoped to have that child together. Now that he's gone, you're going to keep the child. Something permanent, that shows that he was here, that he loved you, that you loved him. Your baby will grow up and carry on some small part of the man you loved and lost. Then came the accident. A minor thing, some bruises and scrapes, but you were fine. The only problem is that your baby didn't make it. Trigger.
You're into urban exploration: Spelunkers are to caves as you are to old, abandoned buildings. You're making your way through a mill forgotten by time, snapping pictures of the moss-covered wheel and lofts, when the rotted floor gives way beneath you. You fall a few short feet into the dark hollow beneath, landing on your back. Worse than the pain however, is the nest of rats you've disturbed - hundreds of them run all over and under you, damp, furry bodies scampering over your hands, legs, arms, and face. First you feel the tiny claws, and then come the teeth. Trigger.- Teller
The collar digs into you neck as you strain once more to break free, bare feet and hands scrabbling at the dirt. The short chain confines you to a three foot radius around your prison, a small, ugly doghouse. Toys, balls, and bones litter the area, along with half-full dishes of water and foul tasting dogfood. After three weeks the smell of the 'home' has become unbearable, but you know better than to complain, or make any human sounds at all.
But you don't have to talk for your Owner to know how sick you're getting. You've lost weight, you can't keep any food down, and you're trembling all of the time. Your Owner comes over, needle in one hand, steak in the other, and tearfully announces that you'll have to be put down. Trigger.
- Teller
Stupid. Evil. Trying to kill them. According to your screaming child and their Borderline Personality Disorder, these are all things that describe you. You ignore their insults and struggle to hold them down as they squirm, kick, punch, and scream. The other members of your family look on, all too used to these episodes. You think you're through the worst of it, then a fist catches you square in the mouth and you lose it. You can't take this any more. You haul them to their feet, slam them into the wall, and punch them in their face, over and over again as your family watches, horrified. Awash in a mixture of shame and rage, you trigger.- Teller
You're doing the laundry when your child's school calls you - there's been a fight, and your child instigated it. Normally, it would be dealt with by a suspension and an apology essay on all sides, but the victim in this case is in critical condition in the hospital, greviously wounded by overzealous bullies - one of which is your child. As your friends, all fellow parents, abandon you, not willing to have their children spend time near your monster, you trigger, not in shame for your child, but out of selfishness, knowing you'll never be accepted again.Prothean
You realize just how badly you've fucked up when it's too late - somehow, nobody caught your mistake, and the contractor has already begun work on the building. If you brought something up about your hilariously flawed design, you'd by your employer for the contractor's fees and possibly fired. You're strapped for cash as it is, so you keep quiet, a terrible decision, in retrospect. Because just weeks after the apartment complex is finished, you see a breaking news alert during your morning coffee-and-news routine - a brand new apartment complex collapsed during the early morning, while everyone was inside and asleep. Fifty-seven dead, their blood on your hands. Trigger.Prothean
You can't beat him. This video game is your life, the thing you have learned and become excellent at, the thing you have trained and worked and studied to do as best as you can- and you're still not good enough. It would be one thing if he was some long-term rival or as-yet unbeaten champion, but he's not. He's some young up and comer, and he keeps beating you, thrashing you again and again. You rewatched the replays of your first match and went into it again. Another loss. Again. Again. Over and over, the cycle repeats: review, study, training, practice, improvement, defeat. Nothing's good enough. He's just better than you. Maybe you should just give up. Trigger.Nonagon
You have what looks to be the perfect life, from all appearances, and it's one you earned with hard work. You're the high school quarterback, you're smart and you get good grades, you're well behaved and a regular at your church, you volunteer to help teach disadvantaged kids, and more. The girls want you, the guys respect and look up to you. The only problem is that you're gay. In the kind of community you've grown up in, that's just not an acceptable way to be, and you're at peace with that; you can deal with it for now, staying in the closet rather than taking the risk of coming out. You stay single, and occasionally look at gay porn on your computer. One day, though, your dad finds it in the browser history, and he traps you in your room and unloads on you, screaming his head off, demanding to know why you're looking at this "sick filth". Trigger.Nonagon
You read about it in an online article. How to turn a pole-mounted transformer into an electromagnetic pulse. Erase and destroy all electronics in the immediate area. All you needed to do, according to the article, was drop it into a large body of water. Walking by the dipshit neighbor's house, you fantasized about dropping the thing into his pool. Everything was positioned so well. Drunk, you talked about it with budddies, talked yourselves into it, and then gathered the tools. What really happened, though, was the pole broke, the tension in the wires kept the thing mostly aloft, and made it land on the fence. Your buddies die (stupid, in retrospect, to use a metal ladder by a chain link fence), and you're left standing there as a hell of electricity and fire unfolds around you, crackling along the fence, puddles on the street, and igniting the grass. You trigger.-Wildbow
You need your medication. You know that. The doctors know that. It's not - nobody is denying that. They're just making you beg, like a dog, to give you what you need to keep from feeling like death warmed over. Literally on your knees, your eye twitching, your hands up and pressed together, begging like a fucking dog, because you need it so badly. Fuck this place. God. Fuck. Why did you have to be institutionalized? The doctor takes your daily pill, puts it close to your open palms, and then snaps back, laughing. They're all laughing. Trigger.Nonagon
Your family was never the best. A father who spent more time out with other women than he was ever home; a mother who was more preoccupied with alcohol than you. So when you found out you were adopted, it was like a godsend, a confirmation of a truth you always knew deep down but never dared put into words. You had the wrong family all along. You do your research and head out to your biological mother's address, knocking on the door to her apartment, hope fluttering in your heart. The woman who answers it is emaciated, bags under her eyes, obvious track marks on her arm. You ask after your mother, using her name. "That's me," the woman replies. Trigger.Nonagon
When you were younger, you were in a pretty nasty car accident, and suffered spinal damage that meant you couldn't feel (or move) your legs. Now, some years later, you're out with some friends at a restaurant, celebrating something or other. There's this obnoxious ten year old little shit - somebody's little sister or daughter - who keeps prodding you about your legs, being obnoxious, whiny, entitled, etc. She drops her fork, and goes down under the table to get it. When she comes back up, fork still missing, she looks at you. "Wow, you really can't feel it." She gestures to your legs, and you pull back to look at them, revealing the fork just sticking out of your calf, the tines not even visible, blood just pouring out. You start screaming in panic. Trigger.Nonagon
100 Triggers at Maximum, please.
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The Theatre