#books with triggers

[bewitchedbookcorner]

do you ever read a book, look at the mmc and go “raw. next question.”? because holy FUCK. that’s how this man makes me feel

this book is an age gap thriller romance with a serial killer and my two favourite fictional characteristics; obsession and revenge

look under the cut for the blurb

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐡

Imagine my surprise when the chance to interview the country’s most notorious man on death row lands on my table. His final confession. It’s too good of an opportunity to turn down.

Robbie Hammond is old enough to be my father, a man condemned for the murder of at least fourteen women. He is dangerous, deadly. Intense in ways I can’t explain. Yet, despite the red flags, his magnetism draws me to him. I’m powerless to fight it.

𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞

Not everything is as it appears. The moment Savannah set foot in here, she shivered like a leaf in the wind, barely able to hold eye contact without a blush creeping up her neck.

I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s no mistake she’s here, watching me from across the table.

There’s a reason I only agreed to talk to Savannah Campbell before they put me down—why it has to be her.

Beneath the quivering smile hides a darkness I recognize.

A darkness that sparks my interest.

But the question is: 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒅𝒐𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒓𝒖𝒏?

[laptoparmageddon]

[typona]

I couldn't get this scene out of my head after reading the book!

[dolletterockstarr]

You can always be thinner, look better.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

Part 2/2

By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.

In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.

So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.

When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.

He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.

The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.

The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.

It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.

And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.

However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.

Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:

Children.

Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.

Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.

They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.

It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.

When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:

Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.

Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.

"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.

Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.

He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.

Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.

He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.

Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.

He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.

He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.

"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.

He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.

All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?

[vaguely-concerned]

are. are you telling me that if the romanced mage warden dies and alistair is king, he deadass stares greagoir down over her dead body and grants the circle of ferelden its autonomy after ordering it rebuilt somewhere safer. first you have to deliberately leave him behind so he won't die for you and then he does that for you once you're gone, even when you're broken up??? absolute and literal king behaviour of the highest order????? the actions speak louder than words of it all??????? I think I hauve covid

[mewmewdoppio]

A sma𝗹l billf𝗼rd c𝗼mic that too𝗸 me a few days to make with my take on a human bill design.

𝗖ouple more sketches + f𝗹at/alt c𝗼lor𝘀 of pag𝗲 four.

[fern--theplant]

originally it was gonna say fujoshi instead but this is funnier to me

[dunmeshistash]

Oh lord of Dungeon Meshi knowledge! Do you know where to find the TV Animation "Delicious in Dungeon" Memorial Illustration Book done by Trigger that doesn't cost $100?

I don't 😔

Idk much about where to buy imported stuff

[aria-greenhoodie]

Have some meme redraws of the radioactive old man yaoi ft. my Human Bill design again‼️

Click for Quality!

[nea-art]

I have been rereading the pjo books because of the new series and my son reached his saddest wet cat era 🖤

[sonofcelluloid]

Why did Daniel suddenly get really into building model cities during his time with Marius? I’m so glad you asked. Because he inherited Armand’s autism in the turning😌

[fogdraws]

Maybe after the Reinchenbach Falls Watson convinces himself that Holmes is alive and that it is all a farce and that Holmes is too great for death because isn't he? He cannot die, he wouldn't let it happen, would he? And after so much time consumed, so many sleepless nights and so much stress and tears and just paranoia that Holmes would be there, alive, maybe Watson finally gives up.

Holmes is not alive. No one survives a fall from that height. And at least Moriarty is dead; Holmes died with a purpose, he'd conclude, eventually. And that hurt as much as (more than, really) the distant possibility that Holmes was alive. He isn't. So maybe Watson gives up and continues his life, but a part of him is missing. And that part of himself replays how Holmes must have fallen (Watson wasn't there. Why wasn't he there?), debated if Holmes died drowning or if the impact of the fall was enough to do it. And the image of Holmes' cold, dead face was all he could think of sometimes, and the sound of the water as it conducted his limp body through the river often woke him up sweaty and trembling. But life continues, it has to.

And maybe when Holmes does come back, breathing and very much alive in the same room as Watson, maybe he's even more destroyed because he had been right and he stopped looking and he shouldn't have stopped looking and. Holmes faked his death? He did, and hid that from Watson and maybe that's a bit much for him to bear but he'll make it. Because Holmes is alive and breathing and talking to him and that's all that matters. They're together. Maybe sometimes he looks over to Holmes and sees death in his face and his body threatens to betray him but he resists. Holmes is alive. And breathing. They're together, now.

[postingjustwhatever]

@handymanbill 's AU but with my Bill design

[stagefoureddiediaz]

The Helena diaz of it all has me fascinated. I’ve said for a long while that Eddie’s real issues are his mommy issues and this episode just cemented for me that we’re gonna explore that and deal with it.

Because it’s Helena who forced Eddie to grow up to fast - because her husband wasn’t around much - so she pushed Eddie into de facto parent and husband role ls - selfishly filling her needs and ignoring the damage it was doing to her son (it is a form of abuse in my book).

Eddie then had the audacity to fall in love with and marry Shannon and get her pregnant. It’s why Helena was always so off with Shannon - she was punishing her. She is also punishing Eddie for all of this and his refusal to return to El Paso only cemented further her bitterness and resentment.

Now she does have Ramon back she doesn’t need Eddie any longer to fill that role so she is still punishing him and part of that is tied into her glee over now getting to parent Christopher - something she has always been intent on doing the doppelgänger just gave her the opportunity- as well as allowing her to further punish her son and his love of Shannon.

Her barbed comments about building a pool were all about showing what she can provide Christopher - how she is parenting him better than Eddie - it’s part of her mind games - making Eddie feel like more of a failure as a parent to his son.

The reality of course is that the reverse is true - Helena’s parenting is all superficial, flash and showy - it isn’t the hard day to day parenting when things get tough and you have to be the bad guy. While Eddie has made mistakes, there is nothing superficial, flash, or showy about his parenting. It’s why bucks comments about Eddie being a great dad are so important.

Eddie feel like a failure right now and that he is entirely to blame for everything. But in reality, while he does bear a bit of the responsibility, the truth of the matter is that he needs to learn and deal with the fact that all of it actually stems from Helena and her abuse of her young son - Shannon never stood a chance just like Eddie never has.

[myfandomrealitea]

"But published books don't give you trigger warnings!"

Which is objectively worse because you are spending actual money. Its not a flex. Even movie showings give you pre-warnings of film content in the opening screen.

Nobody is holding a gun to your head and making you tag things or include trigger warnings, but you also can't complain or harass the people who stop reading your content or won't read it at all because you refuse to give them any insight into what they're about to read.