@augusnippets Day 20

@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 7

Drowning/ waterboarding/ choking

Murder, loan shark situation, kidnapping

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Whumpee squirmed in their bonds, screaming through the gag in the back of the car. Whumper rode shotgun, while his personal driver took them god knows where.

One of Whumper's henchmen sat on either side of Whumpee, dressed in sleek black suits. They paid Whumpee's struggles no attention, watching out the tinted glass of the vehicle's windows.

Eventually, the car stopped. Whumpee was dragged out into the chilly night, finding themself on a bridge. The gag was pulled from their lips, and they were thrown to their knees before Whumper.

"Please, Whumper," they begged, looking up pleadingly. "I can have your money soon, i promise. I'm good for it, really!" Whumpee knew what was coming. They'd be beat again and dropped off at home, just like every other time. Maybe Whumper would even take a finger or two.

Whumper chuckled, kicking Whumpee onto their back. He snapped his fingers at his guards, ordering, "Untie him."

Whumpee's limbs were freed, Whumper's boot pressing down on their chest. Whumper's voice was smooth and unhurried as he spoke, "Whumpee. You've missed your payments for six months. I'm afraid it's over for you, friend."

"What? Whumper, come on, buddy! We're friends here, we can work this out!" Whumpee raised his hands, laughing nervously. "Let's see, ah, I've got some money back at home, if you'll just drive me over th—"

Whumper kicked Whumpee in the face, and they groaned in pain. "Fuck, come on! I promise, man, i just— what are you doing?"

One of Whumper's men was securing a rope to Whumpee's ankle, tied to a cement block.

"Hey- hey! No, no, please, we can work this out! Stop, Whumper, please stop them! No!"

The henchmen lifted the heavy brick over the bridge's edge, holding it and waiting for Whumper's command.

"Whumper, No!" Whumpee cried out, shaking their head.

Whumper's boot came off Whumpee's chest. "This is why you don't fuck over my people. Goodnight, Whumpee."

The brick dropped, and Whumpee was pulled with it, plummeting towards the dark, unforgiving water.

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 15

Bonus prompt: Relapse

SELF HARM TW, manic episode, destructive behavior, flashbacks, toxic and abusive relationship, lots of unhealthy stuff, sex mention

(lmk if im missing a tag!)

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Whumpee was breathing quick, hardly aware of where he was. His hands shook, his body shook— he shook.

His meds... where did his meds go? He stumbled into his bathroom, pulling open his medicine cabinet and grabbing the orange bottle. Empty.

Whatever. He didn't need those anyway! Great, just fucking great.

Chucking his bottle at the wall, Whumpee closed the cabinet, looking into the mirror on the door. He was a mess, his hair ruffled, pupils dilated, eyebags dark. He was a mess. A mess.

"You're a mess."

Whumpee physically winced as his ex-boyfriend's words rang in his head. He tried to block it out, but it was too late.

"You're a mess. Look at you!" Whumper had pushed Whumpee to the ground, his eyes dark. "What do you think you're doing, huh? Running away like a little bitch? You were supposed to be home an hour ago!"

Whumpee groaned, clutching his head. He didn't need to think about Whumper. Not now. Especially after Whumper had texted him again.

"I'm sorry, okay? I forgot to check the time and‐"

"Probably letting yourself get passed around that club, huh? Stupid whore."

Maybe it didn't hurt to read his text this time? Maybe he was in a better mood than the last time they'd spoken.

Maybe Whumper wanted him again.

He unlocked his phone, opening his messaging app.

"i miss you, baby. come over, please?"

Whumpee stared at the text, running a hand through his hair. Adrenaline flushed through his system— Whumper wanted him again! He typed back hastily, breaking out in laughter to fight the tears welling in his eyes.

"be there in 20. i miss you too."

"dont be late. Bring lube."

oh.

Whumpee sunk against the wall, leaning on his bathtub. Why did he need Whumper like this, even though he knew he was going to get hurt again? Why did he like it so much?

His eyes latched onto his razor. Without thinking, he grabbed it and began to dismantle it. Slipping out a razor blade with shaky fingers, Whumpee pressed it to his wrist. He sighed as he drew a line into his skin, watching blood dribble down his wrist.

He dragged it over his skin again. He had forgotten how great this felt.

How long had it been? Weeks? Months?

Whumpee didn't care. He'd sink into this pain and let it consume him until he was okay again.

And he'd go to Whumper's house looking like a mess.

@augusnippets day 8

Bonus prompt- Whumpee wearing Caretaker's clothes

Demihuman Whumpee (canine), past capture, institutionalized/legal slavery of demihumans, lady whump mentioned, physical abuse mentioned, mostly just fluff though :D

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Caretaker sat alone in their living room, sipping on some stew they had made earlier. They heard Whumpee's scufflings in the next room, but left them to their own devices.

Whumpee was... odd, to say the least. They were just beginning to learn which of their old owner's "rules" that they were allowed to break. The demihuman tested boundaries carefully, like they were nervous for a punishment if they sat on any furniture.

Once they learned they were allowed to sit where they liked, however, they took up a habit of napping on the coffee table. Caretaker would never reprimand them for this, though. The more freedom Whumpee felt, the happier they seemed.

The poor thing's old owner was a cruel excuse for a woman. She never let Whumpee wear clothes past a pair of boxers, she made them act like an animal for her, and even went as far as to whip them if they weren't to her precise standard. Whumpee was a kind of dog-human hybrid, yes, but nobody deserved to be treated that way. Caretaker wouldn't even treat a dog like that!

Caretaker stamped out any thoughts of her— they hated to dwell on things, especially Whumper.

Caretaker noticed that Whumpee had gone silent. They quickly got to their feet and started towards the bedroom. "Whumpee?" they called.

When Caretaker opened the door, Whumpee was scrambling to hide, choosing to duck behind the bed.

"Whumpee? Love, you can come out. It's okay," Caretaker said calmly, stepping into the room. "Can you tell me why you're hiding? Are you doing something you think you aren't supposed to?"

Whumpee let out an ashamed whine and was still for a moment. Suddenly, they leaped up onto the bed where Caretaker could see them.

The demihuman was looking away in shame, and their ears drooped pathetically. They were dressed in a big white sweater that was entirely too big and a pair of shorts that they were struggling to hold up. Whumpee ducked their head. "I– I didn't know you were coming in... I'm sorry, I'll take them off–"

They were cut off as Caretaker tackled them in a hug, squeezing them closer. "Whumpee," they exclaimed, "you're wearing clothes! I'm so proud of you, love!" Caretaker ruffled Whumpee's hair encouragingly.

Whumpee, taken aback, hugged Caretaker. "I'm... allowed to?"

"Yes, yes! Of course, love. Though... we should probably get you some clothes that fit you a little better."

Whumpee nodded, sinking their head into Caretaker's chest. "Thank you... these are so comfy..."

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