#Self-Deprecation

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumptober Day 31

31 ASKING FOR HELP | Therapy | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well."

Whumptober Prompts List | Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 800

Tag List: @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion @scaewolf

@the-ellia-west @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv @aloafofbreadwithanxiety

CW: nightmares, insomnia, self-deprecation

A/N: Aaaaaaaaand that's a wrap for Whumptober 2024! Thank you so very much to all the lovely people at @whumptober who organized the event and helped reblog!

I felt like writing a sort of fluffy Hero x Villain snippet because I love seeing these two helping each other overcome their traumas after everything.

----------

The kitchen was silent, save for the constant drip… drip… drip of the coffee pot and the soft humming of the refrigerator.

Villain folded their arms and leaned against the counter, watching the dark brown liquid pool in the bottom of the glass carafe, ignoring how raw their eyes felt, how much their body craved sleep. Their body desired sleep, but their brain wouldn’t let them truly rest.

“Villain?”

They jumped as Hero appeared in the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion from their eyes. “Uh… ‘morning.”

“It’s…” Hero squinted at the wall clock, “it’s three a.m. What are you doing making coffee?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Villain replied matter-of-factly. “Happens from time to time. I usually just get an early start.”

Hero frowned. “How often?”

Villain shrugged. “Does it matter?”

Hero sighed and crossed the room to stand in front of them. “Villain, this is the third time in the past two weeks you’ve woken up at ungodly hours. The last two times I wasn’t sure, but… it’s the nightmares, isn’t it?”

“I…” Villain hesitated, gaze falling to the floor. “Yes. Usually I can just go back to sleep, but this one… it’s better if I get up and be productive than lie awake in fear.”

They couldn’t see Hero’s face and didn’t want to make eye contact, but they knew Hero was biting their lip in an expression of concern. “It’s just a bad dream,” Villain said quickly, “nothing really to worry about.”

“A dream bad enough that you don’t feel safe falling asleep?”

“Uh….”

Hero turned and opened one of the cabinets, pulling out two mugs. “You need to stop trying to cope by yourself.”

Something in their tone made Villain inwardly cringe. They opened their mouth to protest, but as Hero poured the coffee from the pot into the mugs and moved over to the fridge, the words died on their lips. Hero grabbed the cream off the shelf and the sugar bowl from the counter before moving to the dining table, gesturing with the milk container for Villain to bring the two mugs over.

Villain complied, sitting silently as Hero prepared their coffee exactly how they liked it. Hero pushed the mug towards them before sipping from their own. Villain waited for them to berate them with questions, and accusations about what other coping mechanisms they were hiding from them. But Hero said nothing.

Another minute passed, and Villain couldn’t take it anymore. “Why do you put up with me?” They burst out, gripping the handle of their mug.

Hero raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Villain pressed their free hand to their chest. “Look at me! I was your sworn enemy for years, I don’t even have powers, I… I’m….” They looked away, eyes welling up with tears.

Something brushed against their knuckles, and Villain glanced back as Hero laid their hand upon Villain’s. “Broken? Unworthy? Worthless?”

Villain didn’t answer. They didn’t think their vocal cords were even capable of responding, let alone forming a coherent reply.

Hero smiled softly, a knowing, reminiscing smile. “You remember when you saved my life, so long ago, and I asked you a similar question?”

Villain blinked. It wasn’t that long ago, only… only a few months. A few months that felt like a lifetime. “...yes…” they managed to choke out, voice breaking.

“You remember what you said?”

Villain was silent for a minute, which could have been an eternity. They nodded, slowly, as the memory came back to them.

“I care about you, Hero. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I abandoned you.”

“You saved my life,” Hero said, “you gave me food, shelter, a friend. And, later on…” their fingers laced with Villain’s. “I put up with you because I love you. Because I care about you. We saw each other through things that others can barely imagine, and we made it out alive, together.”

“I’m alive,” Villain agreed quietly, “I’m just not well.”

“And you’re lying to yourself if you think I’m well. You can’t get the help you need if you don’t ask. And that’s a hard lesson to learn when you’ve gone so long having to rely only on yourself.”

“I know how to ask for help!”

Hero rolled their eyes. “Asking Antihero for an extra pair of hands for vigilante work is not the same as inner healing.”

Villain sighed. “You’re right…” they mumbled, taking a slow sip of their coffee.

“Describe the nightmare that keeps you from going back to sleep.”

“Why?”

“So I can help you affirm that it’s not real, that it was never real, that it will never be real.”

Villain hesitated, suddenly afraid to confide one of their deepest fears. Until they realized moments later just how silly hiding it was. If anything, Hero already knew. “Okay,” they began quietly, “it always starts at the collapsed building where we rescued Youngest….”

[sir-fenris]

Whumpcember24 - Day 4

"This isn't my blood"

(Drabbles' masterlist)

Content: Blood, recovery whump, vaguely implied fear of self harm (no actual self harm), hurt/comfort, referenced violence, self-deprecation, good caretaker, referenced dehumanization.

Blood. It was the first thing they saw once they rushed towards the living room upon the door opening. Blood in Whumpee's hands, in their shirt, bloodied handprints on their throat.

After a whole day gone without a word left behind.

"Whumpee?! What happened, where are you hurt?" The words almost stumble across each other from how fast they were said. Caretaker's hands were equally rushed as they fumbled Whumpee's clothing, trying to find where the source of blood was coming from.

Whumpee simply stared ahead, eyes blank, face pale. Something was very, very wrong here. For a moment, a terrible, long moment, Caretaker looked at the blood, at Whumpee's face, and at the handprints on the throat, and thought of the worst.

No, it can't be... Whumpee was getting better, they smiled for the first time this week, this can't have been it. No. No, no-

"Whumpee?" Caretaker whisper as gently as they can, cupping Whumpee's face as if they would break at any harsh touch, even though Whumpee was literally built as a giant guard dog. "Hey..."

Finally, their lips move, and they softly say, "This isn't my blood..." Whumpee's eyes find Caretaker's, as lost as a child looking for reassurance. "I- He appeared in my blind spot, our shoulders hit- I didn't- they're alive, but- I- I just... It was instinct, I couldn't stop-"

"Shh, shh, I got it. It's okay," Caretaker whispers, guiding Whumpee's head to their shoulder. It was a guilty relief, but a relief nonetheless, that the blood was someone else's.

Whumpee had been broken down to a feral being, attacking everything they could reach. Caretaker has been working on their recovery for just two months, they knew relapses and accidents would happen. They were just glad Whumpee was unharmed.

"I'm sorry," Whumpee choked out, hugging Caretaker. "I'm sorry, you tried to make me a person and I fucked it up, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt them, I stopped when I realized, I-"

"Hey, hey, shhh. None of that. I know you didn't mean to, buddy, you didn't fuck anything up, okay?" Caretaker takes a deep breath, finding the words to say. "You got triggered, made a mistake, stopped when you saw what you did. It's okay."

"I attacked someone! You tried to teach me how to be a person, but I can't, I just hurt others-"

Again, Caretaker interrupts gently, this time leaning back and taking Whumpee's face in their hand. "Don't say that. Ever. You are a person, Whumpee, always was and always will be. People make mistakes, people get traumatized, people react in anger and fear."

Caretaker softens even more their voice, for good measure. "All that 'not-person' bullshit they got in your head is wrong. Don't ever say you're not a person, okay?"

Whumpee's answer is watery eyes being hidden in Caretaker's shoulder in a hug, followed by a jerky nod.

Caretaker hugs them back, careful not to hug them too tightly, knowing that would trigger a fight or flight response.

"You'll be okay, buddy. I'll be right here with you, no matter what."

-

(I'm sad today, wanted a bit of fluff/comfort in today's scene)

-

[kittylittersmoothie]

photographical evidence of me fighting the urge to abandon my remaining and forming relationships before they all inevitably abandon me & i vanish from existence like a ghost because no one will ever love me long enough for me to mean anything to them <3

[the-healing-mindset]

What are your strengths? Look at yourself and be honest. If there is something that you're good at, then consider it to be one of your strengths. See, sometimes we may put ourselves down and disregard and devalue our strengths in an effort to show ourselves as humble. However, there is nothing wrong with knowing what your strengths are and being proud of what you are capable of.

When we downplay our strengths like that and tell ourselves and others that we "aren't good at something" even though we may be extremely good at it, two things happen. One of those things is that we begin to lose sight of who we are and of what we are actually capable. The second thing that happens is that we prevent ourselves from growing and from getting better at that particular thing, or at other things that we also may be good at but don't believe ourselves to be.

Never be afraid just to give a simple "thank you" when you receive compliments on your abilities or on your good qualities. It is very likely that you have worked or are working hard to maintain those skills. You deserve credit for that.

[geometricfractal]

I’ve been thinking about the thing I’ve heard said, about how you shouldn’t put down your skills not only because of yourself but also because you don’t know who will hear you. And you know what?

They’re right.

I’ve been talking to someone at least two or three times in the last few weeks, someone I value a lot, and they were impressed by my prowess at something, like “wow you’re so good”. And I was like “no I’m not, it’s not really that complicated, I’m just dabbling, I’m not very good at all, yadda yadda yadda”. And like? That’s not very nice of me. I am pretty good at that stuff. And I did put in effort to get there. And it benefits none of us for me to pretend that isn’t the case. Because is the other person going to hear “no no I’m not bragging or self important” like my anxiety was saying with those words? Or are they going to hear “wow maybe if you were just better at stuff you could do this too”? It’s probably the second one. And I never, ever want to say that to anyone, especially the people I care about.

So I’ll try to be nice to myself. It’ll probably make me happier too.

[cyhyr]

Whumptober No. 19: “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

Bakugou and Deku, dialogue only! Because I'm liking these little dialogue-drabbles and I'm writing these for me <3 Could be read as platonic bkdk or not, but I'm always leaning towards not with these two ;) Tagging for Whumptober: @atereal @oneinist

~

“When did I ever say that?”

“You were looking at me!”

“Deku. I look at you a lot. We’re literally partners.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“You had that, ‘oh look, he’s got a dumb idea messing around in his head,’ look.”

“What sort of bullshit, low self-esteem garbage—y’know what, we don’t have time for this.”

“You’ve always thought my ideas were dumb!”

“Right, because that’s why I follow your lead so often, because you have stupid ideas and I live to see you fail.”

“Exactly!”

“No, you shit—what the fuck is wrong—did you hit your head?!”

[kinuskikakku]

I should date someone working in waste disposal.

They are used to taking out garbage.

[polyanthea]

I hold neither Plutarch’s, nor none of these ancient short manner of writings, nor Montaigne’s, nor such of this latter time to be rightly termed essays, for though they be short, yet they are strong, and able to endure the sharpest trial; but mine are essays, who am but newly bound prentice to the inquisition of knowledge, and use these papers as a painter’s boy a board, that is trying to bring his fancy and his hand acquainted.

-William Cornwallis, Essayes (1600)

[fromkenari]

Yeah, it's called Forecasting/Fortune Telling, a cognitive distortion. What do you expect me to do about it? I can only stop it once it's started, not before. Stopping it from happening at all is not how any of this works. Dr. Strange thinks handling that Time stone and seeing the billions of outcomes is burdensome. Buddy, my brain does that naturally. I have to medicate the brain and ground myself to even have a hope of stopping it once it starts, and some days I'm going through full-blown Butterfly Effect scenarios because I sneezed. Calling it "embarrassing" is actually not helping the situation. Call it an "internalized superpower" or something else that is at least vaguely positive because anxiety and shame go hand-in-hand when there is nothing to ashamed of in the first place.

Hmm. Bad time for me to see this shitpost, apparently.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

June of Doom Day 6

"They don't care about you." / Flinch / Broken Promise / Abandoned

Prompts List | Event Masterpost

Hero x Villain Masterpost | <- Previous Part | Next Part ->

Fandom: Original Work

Words: 1600

Tag List: @juneofdoom @fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @mr-orion

@scaewolf @doctorsawyer @pinkrangerv

CW: PTSD, breaking and entering, sabotage, self-deprecation, swearing, harsh words, denial, mentioned injury, crying

A/N: Introducing a couple new characters: Antihero, a part-time hero, part-time villain who owed Villain a few favors, and Youngest, the most inexperienced member of Hero's old team. Also the first appearance of Hero's powers! They're a telekinetic.

----------

“...are you sure the distraction’s gonna work?”

“Antihero knows what they’re about, love. Trust me, we’ll have all the time you need.”

Hero shifted uneasily in their seat, watching the lights of the city streak by outside the car window. “I do, but… what about Techie? Won’t they alert Shapeshifter, Sound Gun and Leader once they find out we’re inside?”

Villain sighed, eyes fixed on the road. “I already told you, I’ll handle it.” Hero opened their mouth, but Villain raised a finger from the wheel, silencing them. “And don’t worry, I won’t kill them. If all goes well, they won’t even suspect what we came for until it’s too late.”

“Okay….”

Villain turned onto a side street, close to Hero’s former team’s headquarters, but not close enough to draw attention. They eased the car to a stop and put it into park before turning to Hero. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? If things don’t go as planned, it could end very badly for both of us.”

Hero gritted their teeth and nodded, thoughts whirling. “Not just us, but Techie and Youngest and maybe Antihero and—!”

Villain gently put a finger on Hero’s lips. “Hush. It’ll all work out.”

“But—!”

“Trust me?”

Hero slowly exhaled, trying to soothe their racing nerves. “Trust you.”

Villain smiled. “Good. Now, let’s break into your old headquarters, shall we?” They removed their hand and swiftly exited the car. Hero stared after them for a long moment, painfully aware of the spot on their lips where Villain’s finger had just been, just barely brushing against their skin. Villain shut the car door, and Hero jumped, quickly following suit, heat spreading across their face.

Their mask would hide the worst of the blush, probably. And the rest was hopefully covered by the darkness—

“…Hero?”

Hero jumped. “S-sorry,” they mumbled, starting down the sidewalk. “Just… memories.”

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Hero couldn’t afford to lose focus. Not now. And especially not while inside their old headquarters, where every second that ticked by was one second closer to getting caught.

Caught.

And imprisoned.

And tortured….

“Hero?”

They snapped out of their thoughts as Villain gently touched their shoulder. “I…” Hero blinked and realized they’d almost walked past the side door, their ticket into the building. They smacked their forehead in frustration. “Fuck… sorry, I was just….”

Villain frowned. “If you’re not ready for this, we can turn around and go home. I’ll call off Antihero, and we can try again another day.” They glanced up at Hero’s old headquarters, and the frown deepened. “Your team did a lot of fucked up shit, and they deserve to pay for every damned scrap. 

“But…” they looked back to Hero, and their gaze softened. “We don’t have to do this now. Just say the word.”

Hero hesitated. The offer was tempting, it really was. But… they had the suspicion that if they backed out now, they would never muster up the courage to return. And that thought… that thought terrified them more than getting caught.

They shook their head.  “No. We’re doing this.”

“Alright.” Villain nodded slowly and gestured to the door. “Lead the way. This is your mission, after all.”

Hero took a deep breath, steeling their nerves against the memories that threatened to flood their brain and overwhelm them again. I’m coming, Youngest. They pressed their hand to the doorknob and reached out with their powers, grasping the inner mechanisms with insubstantial fingers.

The lock clicked. Hero allowed themself a small smile of victory. It had been a while since they’d used their telekinesis for something as complex as the lock. This was promising. They pushed open the door and slipped inside, Villain on their heels.

The side door opened into a hallway that ran along the entire length of the first floor of the headquarters, connecting to the lobby, a few unimportant storage rooms, and the service staircase. Hero led the way down the hallway, their powers seeking out and disabling the security cameras in the stairwell long before they reached the door.

“Alright,” Villain murmured as they ascended the stairs, “just point me in the direction of the surveillance room and I’ll be off.”

Hero nodded, passing the second and third-floor doors before stopping at the fourth floor. “Second door, end of that hallway.”

“Got it,” Villain moved past them, but Hero caught their arm.

“Just… don’t hurt them too badly. Please.”

Villain’s expression was unreadable beneath the mask, but they nodded. “Of course, love.”

With those words, they vanished through the door. Hero listened to their quiet footsteps for a couple heartbeats before they shook themself and continued up the stairs. Youngest would likely be in their room. Hero remembered from their training days when Leader would lock them in their room to prevent them from following on patrol before they were deemed ready.

The memory reared its head, threatening to drown them, but Hero shook their head and pressed on. Youngest. They were here for Youngest.

The lock was no more difficult to open than the side door. Youngest jumped up as the door opened, words already spilling out. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to…” Their eyes widened as their brain caught up with what they were seeing. “Hero?!”

Hero winced at the shock and disbelief in their voice. “Hey, Youngest.”

“I… you died! You’re supposed to be at the bottom of the ocean somewhere…” Youngest staggered, grabbing onto their desk for support. Frost spread across the wooden surface from their fingers, but they didn’t notice.

“Ah… is that what Leader told you?”

Youngest hesitated before nodding. “They said… they said you were taking a break, to go visit some family… but your plane crashed into the ocean…” They perked up and started moving towards the door. “We have to let everyone know you’re okay! Have you told Techie yet—?”

Hero didn’t move from the doorway, even as Youngest paused expectantly in front of them. “Listen to me, Youngest. I never went on a break, never went on a plane.”

Youngest blinked in confusion. “...huh?”

“I…” Hero’s voice shook as they sought the right words, “I was getting sloppy. Pulled one too many all-nighters. Let a couple big villains get away from me. Leader wasn’t happy about any of that. And… and when I asked to take a break, I think that’s when they snapped. There’s… there’s a reason why the lower levels are off-limits.”

Youngest stared at them, eyes growing wider by the second as Hero’s words sank in. They stepped back. “No,” they protested, “no, you’re lying!”

“I wish I was lying,” Hero murmured. “They don’t care about you. They only care about what you can do for them, and damned if you act like a person who has needs!”

Youngest shook their head, hands raised defensively. “How could you say something like that?! Leader took us in, trained us… they’re like a parent to me! They would never do that!”

“I’m sorry, Youngest, but it’s true. They’ll abandon you if they thought it was ‘for the good of the city’.” Hero’s voice turned mocking, remembering Teleporter’s words as they’d exacted the punishment ordered by Leader. “That’s why I came back. I didn’t want to leave you behind when you, too, caught their wrath.”

Youngest’s expression darkened. “Get out.”

Hero blinked. “What?”

“Get. The fuck. Out. Or I will make you leave. You’re not Hero. You’re something else, wearing their face, wearing their mask.”

Hero’s stomach churned, the earlier fear and panic returning at full force. “Youngest, I….”

“Don’t ‘Youngest’ me!” Youngest screamed, the temperature rapidly dropping. “Leave! Leave, or I might change my mind and trap you here so you can repeat your lies to Leader’s face! How does that sound?!”

Hero stepped back in shock. They wouldn’t… would they? “I’m sorry, Youngest,” they managed to say, voice shaking. “Just… I’m sorry.”

They thrust out with their hand, slamming the door shut with such hurried force that it rattled in the doorframe. The lock clicked, and Hero spun and sprinted back down the hallway, tears threatening to spill down their cheeks.

They were too late. 

Down the stairs.

They’d waited too long.

The fourth-floor hallway.

They failed.

The surveillance room. Hero barely glanced around the room, registering Techie lying unconscious on the floor before they dashed across the room to where Villain bent over the console. Villain turned in surprise, eyes widening as they noted the look on Hero’s face and the distinct lack of Youngest.

Hero mashed themself against Villain’s chest, the tears finally arriving in full force. “I… they… they thought I was… they didn’t want… threatened to…to….”

Villain slowly wrapped their arms around Hero, their fingers running through Hero’s hair. “Oh… I’m so sorry. You tried your best.”

“I… I really thought….”

“I know, I know.” Villain removed one of their hands, tapping on the keyboard. “If it’s any consolation, I got the other thing we needed.”

Hero continued to sob, Youngest’s words playing over and over in their mind.

“Hero… Hero!” Villain gently pushed them away and planted their hands on their shoulders. “We gotta get our asses out of here before the team gets back, okay? Plenty of time to sort through your emotions when we’re home free.”

Hero slowly nodded, removing their mask to wipe away the tears. “Okay…” they mumbled, voice still shaking.

Villain nodded, grabbing Hero’s hand. “Let’s go, love.”

[sir-fenris]

Year of Whump Tropes - Day 6

January 2025 - Week 1, Day 6

Self-dehumanization | "just leave it"

(Drabbles' masterlist)

Content: dehumanization, self-dehumanization, conditioning, "it" as a pronoun at the end, self-deprecation, kneeling, trauma, recovery, overlooked public whump, living weapon whumpee.

They couldn't relax. It was a party, something meant to be fun, to be relaxing for a normal person. But Whumpee isn't a person. Whumpee is a weapon.

Weapons are meant to be storaged away when not on use, not meant to be walking around amidst people that try to politely not look at them. At least other people try not to acknowledge Whumpee. They knew that weapons weren't meant to be seen or to be in parties.

But Caretaker wants Whumpee to be a person, not a weapon. So Whumpee tries their best.

And they prove how much of a failure they are once again.

They couldn't keep pretending to be a person. So they bow their head, ignore the laughs and happiness of people around them, and pick a corner to kneel at. It's been months, but they still remember the position of storage. At least in one thing they aren't a failure.

Whumpee's mind goes blank then, resting and relaxing while not on use.

Until two of Caretaker's coworkers come to see them.

One of them, a woman they recognize as a pilot once they're alert again, crouches down in front of them with a pitying smile. "Hey, there. You're feeling ill? Want us to call Caretaker to come pick you up?"

It's always a shock how so many people here treat them like a vulnerable child or a scared animal, using soft voices and always mentioning Caretaker.

Before Whumpee has time to recollect themselves and decide what to answer, the man, who they don't recognize, had already spoken up. "Just leave it. Don't waste your time." When the woman glares at him, he glares back and hisses, "It knows it's a weapon, and it is acting as such. Come on, don't waste your time pampering it. Caretaker will eventually find it here."

Whumpee is more used to that type of talk. It is a weapon, and it is used to be treated as one.

The woman's glare only darkens at the added words. When she looks back at Whumpee, she tries to soft-speak again. "I'll go call Caretaker for you, okay, hun? Just wait here a little bit. They'll be on their way." It seems like she wants to say more, but Whumpee's lack of reaction makes her seem... sad? And she gives him a final pitying smile before she stands up.

Whumpee doesn't pay attention to the argument between the two as they walk away. It is a weapon, and weapons don't pay attention to human's talk unless it's for a mission.

So it just follows orders and stays put, waiting for its handler to come back and pick it up.

Oh. It- They did it again.

Caretaker will be sad if they know Whumpee fell back into calling itse- themselves "it" and seeing people as "handlers".

Just one more thing Whumpee is a failure in.

-

(Yes, it's day 8 already, shhh. I had a late inspiration. Pretend for a second that this was posted on day 6)

-

[this-is-a-sideblog]

Huh, I never knew there was a word for what I spend most of my time doing.

[batgovernor]

Short poem: RHL, 'The Self-Aware'

Most insecure are those, the self-aware: for all their acts are pointless and they know it, scurrying like ants on an eclair… the universe, indifferent, looks askance. This insecure mode breeds defensiveness and therefore arrogance, not least in poets who know their work especially valueless… even to other ants. ***** I think we poets, who can be so rude about other people, need to be rude…

[j-august]

John, Lord Hervey, Memoirs of the Reign of George the Second from His Accession to the Death of Queen Caroline

[post-singletd]

Lignes d'ébriété - Untitled part (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1478799551-lignes-d%27%C3%A9bri%C3%A9t%C3%A9-untitled-part?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=Post_Singlet Un esprit tourmenté, à la frontière entre la maturité et l'égarement, raconte ses batailles contre l'ivresse, la monotonie, et la solitude. Sous une façade désinvolte, ce texte dépeint l'impact destructeur de la boisson, des regrets et du désespoir. Chaque ligne résonne comme une lutte contre les attentes sociales et les démons intérieurs, avec un humour acide et une dérision poignante.

[kinuskikakku]

It isn’t sad or pathetic if you frame it as a funny self-deprecating joke.