I Am Being Attacked By Antis.

i am being attacked by antis.

this is emmett. emmettnet, emmettverse, emmettland, emmettundead, emmettlab. whichever blog you knew me from.

i am a whump creator. i've been in the whump community for a few years now. and now, i am unable to share my work with the community on here because people are mass reporting me for being a proshipper, and Tumblr keeps deleting my blogs as a result.

(if that isn't the reason why, i would be more than happy to get the explanation from @staff that i've been asking for.)

now, that is speculation on my part based on the timing of each termination (it's after i put my pinned post in the whump tags).

but here are the facts:

months ago, i became comfortable enough to share proshipping content. seeing as how every other artist would link their nsfw work on here, i thought it was acceptable for me to do the same so long as the preview image did not violate any rules.

an anon asked if i was a proshipper, and i said i didn't ascribe to that label*, but i agreed with the philosophy.

*i don't have any choice BUT to use it now because my posts get removed for describing what the content is

note that this anon asked multiple people in the whump community if they were proshippers. it was the same person each time, same copy-and-pasted responses.

i kept posting my proshipping content, all with links and extensive content warnings.

i started getting anon hate.

my account was terminated. after further reflection and rereading the terms of service AGAIN, i figured maybe links are not allowed and so i switched to DM only.

this time, the anon hate was consistent. every week was something new. every day felt like bracing myself to open my inbox. i kept anon on, since i have so many people who feel uncomfortable sending asks off anon and didn't want to take away their safe space.

months pass. i go on hiatus for all of July. i find out someone stole my old nsfw art and reposted their edited versions of it to rule34, a site that i never wanted my work to be on. this person waited until the exact starting day of my hiatus to do this.

i come back to more anon hate in my inbox.

suddenly, out of nowhere, my account is terminated again.

i make a new blog. more anon hate. another termination.

lather, rinse, repeat.

i stopped doing DM only stuff. i figured, if i just link my other platforms and only post safe things on Tumblr, there's nothing in the rules against that. everyone has links to their social media.

i still get terminated. and again, i keep getting terminated after i post my pinned post in the whump tags. which -- speculation again -- leads me and others to think that these antis are stalking the whump tags, waiting for me to show up so they can mass report me and get me terminated.

i have NO idea what they would report, aside from claiming i'm trying to "dodge being blocked". which, i'm not. in fact, i say every single time i come back that i WANT people to block me if they need to.

but regardless, it keeps happening.

i'm losing a place i considered home.

i'm being forced out of a community on here i love so dearly.

and you want to know something funny? for some strange reason, i'm unable to block my anons. yup. an 'error' message comes up. and i'm apparently unable to report them too -- like reporting the one who called me a 'tumblr tranny' and said i would 'always be a woman' for hate speech. oops, sorry. error message.

by now, i've been called evil. told to listen to my intrusive thoughts. told that i should be on a watch list. told that it's disgusting that someone's mutuals still interact with me. told that i have no place in the whump community.

i know that's not true.

i'm so sick and tired of being treated like this. i'm tired of being dehumanized. and i'm disgusted with this behavior.

at this point, i'm just screaming as many times as i can. i'll keep losing blogs, because i know my attackers will read this and just keep on reporting me. what do they have to lose? nothing. they don't have enough of a conscience to care. and why should they? clearly, i'm a monster. i'm a piece of shit. i don't deserve basic respect, and i apparently don't deserve to keep my 'platform'. to stay in my community and to keep my livelihood.

my discord is emmettnet. send me a DM if you don't want to lose me, because there is no point in following me repeatedly just for every blog to be terminated.

if you want to reblog this to spread the word and show your support, i would be eternally grateful. but i understand if you choose not to; i don't want anyone to be subjected to what i'm going through.

thank you for reading.

@augusnippets day 18

Apocalypse/ Infection / Self-administered medicine

Apocalypse, infection, body horror, nonhuman death, implied human death

lmk if i missed a tag !

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Whumpee walked with his hunting group, keeping his eyes peeled in the gloomy night. He clutched his hunting knife tightly, shaking subtly as they ventured deeper.

A crack alerted Whumpee, and he spun, eyes wide. The group stopped, too, turning their heads.

"Is it..?"

"Shh." Whumpee hissed back, eyes on the shadowy spaces between the dark trees.

There was a groaning, clicking noise from the woods, and Whumpee had no time to react as the thing lunged at him.

It looked as if it was human at one point, with pained, sunken eyes and an impossibly thin body. Its skin was covered in tiny bulges, and in the worst areas had bloomed into a light blue bioluminescent fungus.

It cried, a shrill and pained noise, and knocked Whumpee down. He struggled as it snapped at him, its teeth worn down to sharp pricks. It came dangerously close to his neck, but he was able to block it with his forearm. The creature's teeth dug in painfully, refusing to let go.

The rest of the group was able to rip it off of him and put it out of its misery, leaving the husk to dissolve into the ground.

Whumpee's friend hurried over, helping him up. "Shit, you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Thank you, guys." Whumpee smiled politely, patting his friend's shoulder.

•••

Much later into the night, Whumpee was helping drag the party's dinner home. They'd caught a nice buck and were heading back to camp, chatting cheerfully as they walked the trail.

Whumpee rolled his sleeve up to examine his wound, his heart rabbiting as he noticed tiny, dimly-glowing bumps surrounding the bite. He cringed and hid the wound, deciding he'd bring it up to the camp's nurse later.

•••

Whumpee could hear them.

Tens, hundreds, thousands of soft voices, singing enticing words into his ear.

He felt different, his body seeming to move partly on its own. It droned on as the voices spoke to him, sucking away his attention.

"You, come to us. Let us feed. Decay, and let us host."

He felt the sudden need to pull his shoes and socks off. He needed to feel the dirt, to connect with the forest around him. He tried to ignore the shiny blue buds on his ankles.

Whumpee was instantly in touch with the whole woods, aware of every tree, of all the creatures, and even the humans he traveled with. The mycelium in the ground responded almost painfully as they walked, and it hurt Whumpee too. He attempted to say something, but his mouth was not entirely his. He could only croak, eyes fixed on his friend.

The group had stopped when Whumpee discarded his shoes, circled around him with concern.

Whumpee's friend crouched down, frowning. "You okay, man? You look pale."

Whumpee was doing great! He was feeding the Fungus, serving his mission in his pathetic life. Just like every creature in the woods, growing, feeding, and spreading the beautiful Fungus.

"Release our spores into his blood. Help him see. Show him."

His eyes locked on his dear old buddy. The words rang in his head, loud and clear.

"Spread, infest, feed.

Infect him."

Whumpee knew what he had to do– the only way to show his truest friend the beauty of the Fungus.

He launched himself at the human, teeth aiming for the man's throat.

@augusnippets day 11

escape/ breaking the conditioning/ safe and sound

Implied alcoholism, references to past kidnapping/noncon surgery/abuse, escaped Whumpee, death mention

°

Caretaker was home alone again, just like every night since Whumpee went missing. The routine was the same each night— he laid back in his recliner, chugged can after can of whatever alcohol he could afford, and passed out thinking of Whumpee.

Caretaker sat back, pulling the case close to him and pulling a can out. Tonight, it was a cheap beer from the gas station he'd never heard of. He dug his nail under the tab, about to crack it open when he heard a knock on his door.

It was quiet enough that it could have been somebody knocking at his neighbor's door. Caretaker got up with an irritated sigh, pausing his show and going to the door.

His motion-activated light was on, but through the peephole, he couldn't see anything.

"Those fucking teenagers," he murmured, opening the door to shout at the ding-dong-ditchers.

When he opened the door, however, he was shocked into silence.

Whumpee was here. His Whumpee. Albeit they had longer hair and were pretty bruised up — and were those stitches up their chest?— they were here!

"Wh– Whumpee! It's you, it's really you!" He crouched to the floor, eyes tearing up. "Oh my god, you're here... oh, baby, I- I can't beleive— we thought you died," Caretaker rambled, cupping Whumpee's cheek tenderly. "Where have you been? Are you okay? Ohh, I'm so happy you're alive!"

Whumpee clung to Caretaker, their bony fingers grasping Caretaker's shirt. They sniffled, looking up with teary eyes. "Caretaker... oh fuck, I missed you... I- I got kidnapped, a- and it was terrible, but I escaped and you're here and-"

"Shhh, let's get inside. You're freezing. You can tell me everything once you're patched up..." Caretaker soothed, bringing them inside and into the bedroom. "It's gonna be okay, baby. You're safe with me."

@augusnippets day 20

Homemade meal / Quenched thirst / Favorite treat

Past captivity, mostly just fluff

tried to do a dialogue-centered snippet :)

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Whumpee sniffed the air, his mouth watering. Caretaker was cooking, and it smelled great.

He carefully ventured into the kitchen, kneeling at Caretaker's feet. "Sir?" He murmured shyly.

"Yes, dear? And remember— you can just call me Caretaker."

"Your food smells very good. What will I be eating?"

"Stir fry— same as me."

"Wait, what? But... what did i do? I mean, how do I deserve this?"

"What else would you eat, love?"

Water and bread— maybe milk if you thought i deserved a treat."

"Mmmh, so that's why you're so malnourished. Whumper was not feeding you well."

"..."

"No need to worry— i have plenty of meat and veggies here..."

"But why?"

"Because you're human, Whumpee. And you need to eat like one."

Augusnippets Day 10 - Execution

Content warnings: death, guns, military whump

~~~~~~~

The Soldier had never wanted to kill anyone. He should never have been here at all. The king was the one who wanted the land that they were invading; the Soldier didn’t even know why. It wasn’t right that he and so many others were forced into this fight in which they had no stake, or that the consequences were so dire if they refused.

So far, he at least had managed to stay out of the thick of combat. He didn’t cut the imposing figure expected of frontline soldiers, and was too nervy to be trusted with the more severe weaponry. The few times he had been armed outside of training, it had been for infiltration missions that ended up not requiring bloodshed, and otherwise he had been relegated to courier and recon tasks. All in all, he had been lucky.

This time, though, there was no getting out of it. Each of the conscripts in his unit had been brought out, lined up, and handed a rifle. All but one of them. The other stood across from them, blindfolded, hands bound behind his back. Even from a distance the Soldier could see the man trembling.

They weren’t even told what the other man had done - their commander simply announced that this other soldier had committed treason, and was to be punished accordingly. He barely gave the unit time to process it before giving the order for everyone to ready their rifles.

His body complied with the order even as his mind was numb with dread. He probably wasn’t the only one here who couldn’t quite hold his rifle steady as they aimed; it was doubtful that anyone else here was mentally prepared to be part of a firing squad. Breaths around him were heavy, faces gray and clammy.

The Soldier had been told before, in more casual circumstances within the army camp, that not everyone on a firing squad would actually do the killing. A couple of the rifles would be loaded with a wax bullet rather than a real one. Everyone would shoot, everyone would hear their own gun go off and feel the recoil, but a couple of those shots would be harmless. And everybody got to walk away knowing that there was a chance their own shot had been one of the fakes, a chance that there was no blood on their own hands.

But when the commander shouted for them to fire, the Soldier knew. He watched the bullets slicing into the blindfolded soldier, and the way his body crumpled amid a spray of blood that left a red mist floating to the floor and a ferrous smell in the air, and somehow he knew for sure that this was his first kill.

He wondered idly, as the soldiers were dismissed and the corpse was carted away, which one of those holes was his.

@augusnippets

@augusnippets day 10

execution/ fake execution/ begging for mercy

Captivity, pet whump, threat of murder, begging, guilt.

°

Whumpee screamed through a cloth gag, pulling at their bonds desperately. Strapped to a table, they were helpless to their own fate. Whumper stood above them, a knife gripped in his hands. Caretaker was chained to the wall in front of the two, forced to watch what was happening.

"Caretaker," Whumper said calmly. "I told you enough times that your disobedience will have consequences. It's time I showed you I'm not playing around anymore.

Caretaker yanked at their chains, eyes brimming with tears. "Fuck you! Let them go," they cried, kicking and trying to free themself.

Whumper cut Whumpee's shirt off slowly, exposing their chest. He tapped the tip against Whumpee's skin. "I'll try and make it fast, beautiful. It's a shame you have to die... you were always my favorite."

Caretaker was in a panic, tears spilling past their cheeks. "No, no! Let them go, p- please, they did nothing wrong!"

Whumper paused, smirking. "Then who did?"

"I did!" Caretaker cried, gripping their own hair. "It's my fault I was bad, I'm sorry! I won't misbehave anymore, just please don't hurt them!"

Whumpee looked pleadingly up at Whumper, whining through the gag. Fear coursed through every inch of their body, causing them to shake and tremble. "Mmph, mnph!"

The knife raised into the air dreadfully slow, aimed at Whumpee's heart.

Caretaker was practically in hysterics, shaking their head. "No, sir, please! Master! I'll be so good, I'll be the perfect pet for you—!"

Whumper grinned down at Caretaker, slamming the knife down.

Whumpee flinched, expecting the sharp, intense pain of the knife. Instead, they were met with a loud thunk beside their ear as the knife plunged into the wooden table beside them.

Whumper glared at Caretaker. "That's more like it. Keep it up, and I won't have to take it any further. Whumpee lives for today."