WD Triggers to consider readding

"Your crazed and controlling parents overreact to your eating a damn pop tart, handing your fourteen year old self a roll of toilet paper, a whistle and a watch, telling you you're sleeping outside in the woods for a week, and that they'll give you a meal a day through the fence if you show up at the appropriate time.  On the second day, there's a brutal there-were-warnings-on-TV storm, with lightning strikes nearby and driving rain and winds.  In the midst of it all, everything coming together, you trigger."

"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."

"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 handgun, 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."

"You've been waiting for this day for months. This is a HUGE sale at your FAVORITE store and you've been in line all night just for the chance to get inside. You've saved up any money you've come across since practically April. You're ready. It's 8AM, and the doors are opening. You'd think that everyone would file in nicely, based on spot in line, but instead it becomes a deadly whirl of bodies. You're caught up in it, trapped in the stampede. You try to move through the crowd, but a misstep causes you to trip. You trigger as you realize what happened, knowing that you'll be trampled by the incoming surge of people."

"You went out camping with your SO, but they turned out to be a bit of a psycho. That's putting it lightly. Apparently they were waiting until you were both alone to 'confront you' about your 'infidelity.' You try to reassure them, tell them that you never cheated on them, but that just sets them off. Maybe it would have been best to wait until after they put away the knife to attempt diplomacy, because they cut open your arm with a wayward slash, and blood is just pouring out. You run, and they follow, shouting after you, tracking you by the long trail of blood you've left behind. It's a really nasty cut, and you can't staunch the bleeding with your hand. Their shouted apologies, begging for you to come back, fall on deaf ears. You don't believe them when they say they're sorry; you're pretty sure that they're going to kill you and hide your body. You can hear the footsteps of your SO, following your circuitous path through the woods, and you know you won't manage to escape, not with this trail of blood you're leaving behind you. Trigger."

"You heard whispers from your coach, that tonight's game was an important one.  There's a scout at tonight's basketball game, and the guy asked your coach to keep things quiet.  He wanted to see how you usually play.  Your future on the line, you join the game and everything clicks.  The pressure is perfect, you're on the ball, you're playing your best, and everything flows.  You're in the zone, and you're close to beating the best team in the state.  Two thirds of the way through the game, you hear the crowd roar, as another player steps in for the opposing side.  He walks funny, doesn't make eye contact with anyone.  You hear the story.  He's the assistant manager for the opposing team, he's autistic, and he exists solely for the game.  Their team is ahead enough in the season they can afford to put the kid in and throw a game, your team doesn't see just how close you are to winning this one, and the dominoes fall.  The kid misses, your team doesn't fight as hard to keep the ball from him as they could.  Then he sinks a three pointer.  Then another.  Then another.  The crowd roars, a teammate doesn't pass to you, but passes in a way that lets the kid have the ball.  Another three pointer.  You're floundering out there, looking bad... and finally find yourself face to face with him.  In the heat of the moment, pushing for a win and a good showing, you charge past him, and he ends up on the ground with a bleeding face and missing tooth.  Teammate, coach, fans, family are all jeering, booing you as loud as they cheered the boy, the scout staring, a horrified look on his face."

"You were offered a good deal.  The PRT needed someone to look after what they called a 'case 53'.  A boy with no memories, a marking on his shoulder, and powers.  But those powers came at a terrible price.  They changed his body, head to toe, giving him an appearance like a cockroach crossed with a maggot.  But his face, oh, it was a normal face, but for that tattoo.  It was his eyes that convinced you.  You had experience in studying parahumans, the prof that led your department said there were opportunities unlocked with this move, he knew you had experience in foster care and plans to foster, and he knew you needed the money, so he pointed the right people at you.  You look after the kid for two weeks, a young teen, shuttling him here and there for tests and tutoring, helping him make a game controller for his strange, insectile hands and playing Qbert Qart with him, watching movies and teaching hiim about the world.  It was actually the coolest thing you've ever done.  On your birthday, you were invited to your parents.  You open the door to a 'surprise' sign in the hall and no crowd to welcome you.  Entering the living room, you find the party guests.  They lie there, comatose, eyes rolled back, virtually all with stomachs distended, pregnant.  Father, mother, sister, your partner, your cousin.  Stunned, in horrible shock, you stagger forward to get a view out onto the back patio.  He was a she, it seems, and she's entered puberty.  She's got her insectile hands on the family dog, and its stomach seems to magically swell with her young.  You trigger with the eye contact."

"You grew up and lived in a small town, and life was good.  Simple, but good.  You did your schooling at home and online, you were set to inherit your parents' shop, and though you resisted at first, you bowed to pressure and agreed to start dating the neighbor's child, and after the usual teenage pushback against what your parents wanted for you, you agreed that it was a good match.  Everything seemed set.  Until a private investigator came to you, pushing a photo into your hands.  You were kidnapped at a young age, they said, apparently to help bolster the numbers and keep the dwindling community alive and thriving.  Only your parents and a few of the higher-ups truly knew, while others suspected, and kept their mouth shut.  Faced with the fact that the people you trusted most were lying and conspiring against you for your entire life, you trigger."

"Your dad hits your mom. He’s done it as long as you’ve been alive, and sometimes it gets rough enough she has to go to the hospital. “She fell down some stairs.” Never you, though, luckily enough. Just her. You hit a growth spurt, a big one, and you’re tall now, gawky but with some genuine muscle. It’s enough to fool you into intervening as he starts to lay into her. It doesn’t go well; he easily knocks you to the ground, slamming your head unceremoniously against the tile floor. As you feel his foot digging into your back, right between your shoulder blades, all you feel is a deep and abiding sense of regret that you were stupid enough to try to play hero. Trigger."

"When you were younger, neither you nor your wife were particularly good looking. It turns out she was the ugly duckling, and became a beautiful swan. You, not so much: you're still a gawky pale geek. She's in love with you, she's stayed by you, but you can't help worry that sooner or later she'll realize she's out of your league. You go out to a bar with her, hoping to have a good time, and she gets a little too drunk. You try to help her out to your car, and everybody decides that just because you're not as pretty as her, you must be some horrible monster. She's not even trying to defend you, either too drunk or too embarrassed to do so. As a crowd of strangers accuse you of all kinds of horrible things and threaten you with similarly awful ones, trying to claw your wife from your arms, you trigger."

"You work hard. Harder than most, even. But sadly, you are one step behind, for no reason at all. You learn and train, but you never attain those good grades, never reach those dream positions that were promised to you. 'You are just lazy, even if you are smart, you have to work hard,'. You hear that sentence again and and again, but you work hard! Stay awake day and night, working until your hands cramp and forcing yourself to go on until they bleed from splinters the dozen or so pens you broke become too much. You trigger as you sit in front of an essay/report that is due in an hour, with only your name on the paper, and at least a hundred crumpled papers on the floor."

"You are the owner of a small shop in a bad place. It's nothing special, nothing someone would rob, but it was all you and your spouse had. You barely made enough to come by, but they stayed with you, helping you wherever it was necessary. You sat at the register, reading through a small magazine as a huge man walks in. Looking up you stare into huge pupils of already gigantic eyes, the face hidden by a balaclava. A gun was drawn on your head... but the man heard something. Turning the gun to the noise, he aimed at your spouse and you didn't think twice about jumping forward and taking the bullet. You trigger, seeing the man flee while your spouse is desperately trying to keep your wound from bleeding."

"The day was sunny as you stood in front of the open coffin of sister. The priest preached, said his prayers, finished up and slapped his bible shut. That man looked so genuinely hurt at a person dying, but the weather aggravated you. Not even a cloud was in sight, and you find yourself staring at the coffin was closed and she was slowly put into the earth. You had time to grieve, you know that you couldn't change it now... but when the priest looks at you, puts a hand on your shoulder and tells you she is at a better place now, you snap. You throw a punch, probably break his nose - and you don't stop there. Your fists smash into the older man multiple times, your hands hurting already before one of your relatives was able to pull you off him. The police was called, the man decided to press charges, and you ended up in jail. You were given a reasonable bail, something any of your relatives could pay, but nobody came. When you called your uncle, the one who pulled you off the priest, he hung up on you. You trigger."

"You're never telling anyone about your trigger event.  Some people have their first crush when they're thirteen or so.  You didn't.  You discovered a flirtation with bondage, instead.  You had everything rigged properly, including an electric toothbrush turned to 'on', and bike-locked yourself to a chin-up bar, with the key frozen in a block of ice, so you can let yourself out when the fun is over.  But when the ice melts, the key remains stuck to the chain, just out of reach of your fingertips.  Your flailing, stomping, screaming and hot breath don't free it.  Trapped by your own devising, you trigger."

"Your crazed and controlling parents overreact to your eating a damn pop tart, handing your fourteen year old self a roll of toilet paper, a whistle and a watch, telling you you're sleeping outside in the woods for a week, and that they'll give you a meal a day through the fence if you show up at the appropriate time.  On the second day, there's a brutal there-were-warnings-on-TV storm, with lightning strikes nearby and driving rain and winds.  In the midst of it all, everything coming together, you trigger."