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pxppet · 5 months

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"Tell me, and do be honest. For what purpose did you steal me?" Elliot points the fingers of his touching hands at the scientist like a stereotypical Sherlock, a contemplative grin on his face.

They look up from the papers they had been shredding across the room, turning in their rolling chair to face the ALTR. "I told you, and while I don't mind telling you again, I wish it'd sink in: I saved you from that awful place. You lived a long, dreadful life and- and you're only 19, yet. It's not- I needed to-" They sigh, massaging their temple to knot out the stress.

Elliot picks at the sleeves of his sweater, distant. His entire right hand is bandaged in gauze from an 'incident' during his transport. But Elliot is used to incidents, particularly ones where he is the culprit. "Where did the clothes you dress me in come from," he tests, immediately getting his answer as the scientist stiffens and turns their chair away slightly, half going back to destroying documents, half considering if Elliot even needs verbal confirmation.

"From the store, Elliot. Remember the store, the big store I went into and you had to hide in the car?"

"Store," Elliot tries out the word on his tongue, giving a hum of approval. "So, doctor, was it a spouse or a chil-"

The scientist slaps their own leg in shock and turns around to look at him with eyes that shut him up immediately. When they see him shrink under the blankets with his wide, orange eyes, they immediately untense and correct themselves. "Im sorry, it's okay. It's- it's not polite to ask certain questions. I know the testers don't... hold back on you ALTRs, but out here, people don't ask such personal things."

"Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that impacted you significantly," Elliot mumbles under a breath, almost too faint to be heard. The colour is gone from his face, and he suddenly lies back down, quieted by being startled.

The scientist licks their lips, brow creasing with pity. "I have supplies for burritos tonight. It's something you've never tried before. It has meat. You'll like it." They turn back around and gnaw at their lip with guilt as they resume their tasks of covering up Elliot's vanishing.

"Doctor," he calls softly over the whirring of the shredder. "Thank you for letting me wear your child's sweater." He yawns, seemingly exhausted into frail sleep yet again. "I think it is the only clothing I've ever enjoyed. I will get no blood on it."

The blunt confession is the first outright thanks they've received so far, and their hands clench shakily around the papers. They blink away tears. What do you even respond to that with? What could possibly addendum such a genuine thanks?

They turn back to face him, mouth already forming words, but when they see him, he has gone back to sleep. They sigh. They will shred papers. Then they will make burritos. Then they will care for this strange and wild little ALTR as much as they can. No matter what.

#Late night early morning - I was immediately thinking of them #Elliot reading them like a book due to only having social exposer to testers and scientist is really funny to me #altr elliot #irisona #iris sona #iris oc #jse iris #writersofjack #writers of jack #whump #whumpee #parental caretaker #caretaker #whump caretaker #science whump #rescue whump

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andithewhumper · 2 months

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Experimentations Chapter 2: Darts

Content: avian whumpee, scientist whumper, female whumper, injections/needles (trypanophobia), sedation, speciesism

Streak was starting to panic.

"Ha! Okay, no-" He kicked out, his breathing rapid and heavy. His eye was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, deep brown with a perfect ring of gold. He weighed only slightly more than a human his size. His bones were more hollow and his body built to fly rather than walk, but his enormous wings added some mass and weight.

"You need to let me go," he insisted. His wings kept him so enveloped that he couldn't even kick and fight his way out of the net. "That's not okay with me, so I need you to let me the fuck out of here, right now-"

Dr. Vaughn watched his struggle with amusement. She was pleased with her assumption that he would be a fighter. Stray feathers flew everywhere. She debated telling him off for making a fuss but she knew that he would tire himself out eventually. When she got to the research van she set up the cart next to the back and pulled open the doors. The interior of the van was neat and clinical with no equipment that looked intimidating. There were hooks and rope attached to the wall for the purpose of holding specimens down when they were being particularly difficult. Dr. Vaughn was under no assumptions that her specimen was going to behave himself. It would be a grave mistake to let him out of the net at this point. She would have to wait until she was back at the facility where there was plenty of room for him to throw a fit when she temporarily let him out of the net. She once again lifted him, this time more prepared for the unwieldy nature of the avian. She placed him in the back of the van and got to work securing him down. The floor of the van was hard and cold but the ride would be short so Dr. Vaughn was unconcerned.

Streak grunted, finally done struggling with all his might. It wasn't going to get him anywhere, not like this. He would have to wait for an opening. He relaxed slightly, now shifting to get comfortable in the bed then escape.

"Hey- Hey, actually!" He cried out, his voice tight with pain. "Please, you gotta move it- move me- ah! I don't bend this way!" His wing throbbed sharply as his weight rested on a bent part. It didn't bend there. "Mmm- ow, please can you turn me?" He pleaded, trying to shift but only managing to step on his own wing. He needed out of this net, he needed out of wherever this was, he needed to go home! "Oh- oh, I don't- ow."

Dr. Vaughn frowned slightly at his words. She didn't want the avian to damage his wings before she even got the chance to examine him fully. Damage could come later. She carefully hid the cart behind some trees again and stepped into the back of the van. She pulled the doors closed behind her and crouched down next to the avian.

"I need you to relax. Which way do you need me to turn you?" she asked. Her voice was low and full of authority.

He let out a shaky breath, as demanded. "I don't- I don't know, I don't even know which way is up!" He shut his eyes, though it didn't make a difference. Ruffled feathers stuck out every which way. He took in another breath, forcing himself to feel gravity's effect on him. "I need to rotate right," he decided quietly. He was sort of ashamed that he needed her to help him like this, when she was the one that captured him to begin with. It also sucked that he was in so much pain he was willing to compromise staying in the net for a better position.

Dr. Vaughn smiled at the sound of his breathy voice. She was pleased that while he was still heated and rude he was at least complying with her. She decided she would reward him by fulfilling his request. She reached down and shifted the avian until the main tension eased off his shoulders. "Now," she said clinically, "I need you to stay relaxed as we move because you will not get to move again until we arrive."

He nodded, but realized she didn't know that. "Okay," he agreed. "Will I shift? Will I roll over while you drive?" He assumed he was in a vehicle of some sort. "You know, I've heard humans make the best drivers," he joked lamely. "Though I suppose there's no way to test that theory, cause when avians are told to race, they take off." He was rambling, blowing off steam verbally since he couldn't struggle physically.

Dr. Vaughn smirked at the avian's comments. She was becoming increasingly pleased with her specimen. He would be wonderful, she was sure of it. After she was sure that he was properly situated she moved to secure him to the van so that he wouldn't move around. She hooked some rope through the net and tied it to the hooks on the wall on the van. She repeated this until she was sure that he would not move at all from his spot on the floor of the van. She opened the back door of the van and hopped out, closing the door behind her. She climbed into the driver's seat and turned over the engine, setting off to the facility.

He did squirm as they drove, but it didn't accomplish anything. Mostly he tried not to panic. He could survive this, sure, but- why? Why did he have to, why couldn't they just leave him alone? He'd been flying, that's all. And he'd tried to land, and now he was in a net, and he didn't know what was going to happen to him. And no one would ever even know where he went. He tried to detangle himself, but the net was too tight for him to actually get each limb where it belonged. He had to settle for arms in one spot and legs on the other side, hoping that was about right. Each wing was wrapped fully around him, and he was on his back, pinning the ends in place beneath him.

When they arrived at the research facility, Dr. Vaughn backed into the loading dock. She stopped the engine and walked around to the back of the van. As she opened the door she saw that the avian was moving slightly in the net. He stopped shifting when she opened the door, he didn't want to piss her off. She started untying the ropes that held him in place, then lifted him once again. This time she placed him onto a stretcher, still not releasing him from the net and wheeled him into the facility. As they came upon a large room Dr. Vaughn grabbed a small syringe and a bottle of medication. The room was empty spare a few avian-sized perches on the walls and the ceilings were high enough for flight to be comfortable. She stopped the stretcher in the middle of the room and pulled out the syringe, carefully measuring out the dose. The avian had thankfully shifted in such a way that his neck was accessible through the net. She skillfully grabbed the scuff of his neck and gave him the injection. He still couldn't see anything, so he wasn't sure how scared he should be. He cried out as she grabbed him, startled and afraid, and shut up real fast when he felt the needle. Dr. Vaughn pulled out a knife and carefully cut away several points in the net. After she was done she stepped away carefully.

She was not messing around here. It served to confirm that he was in big trouble here. He tried to keep breathing evenly, all the way in, all the way out, and again. It must be working, because his body relaxed, and his eyes drifted shut. Okay. Everything was okay. Then his eyes shot open. No, no, it was a drug, it was whatever she injected him with. Nothing is okay, he needed to get out of here! Still... he just couldn't find the energy to move.

The Doctor watched as the avian calmed with the help of the drug. When he was completely relaxed she stepped back towards him again. She pulled off the net and walked over to the side of the room to hang it up on a metal hook. He wriggled himself free of the net and took about a minute to adjust his feathers. His wings were huge, she learned. Much bigger than the net's confinement had made them seem. He stood up, finally untangled. His hair was long and smooth, black with one white streak toward the front. It was pulled into a bun at the back of his head, which was barely recognizable considering his current state.

"By now you have noticed that I gave you a small sedative. Don't worry, it won't put you to sleep, you just needed something to calm your nerves. It will wear off in a few minutes. That net was quite cramped I'm sure." Dr. Vaughn pulled out a small dart gun from her lab coat, out of sight from the avian and made sure that it was fully loaded.

He looked around as he smoothed his feathers. He didn't need to be perfect, he just needed to fly. Interestingly, he took notice of the long one that was missing, the one she had in her pocket. Then his wings were out, stretched wider than she thought possible, and then he was gone. Well. Not gone, just up. He'd rocketed off the ground, to the first perch, jump-soaring from one to the next until he was as high as he could go. He figured there was no way she could reach him up here. He crouched on the perch, catching his breath, and leaned against the wall to steady himself. He did not like being on drugs. "If I was a real bird, I'd shit on your head," he called down to her.

Dr. Vaughn was amazed at the beauty of the specimen she had captured. He was even more beautiful now that he wasn't in a ball of feathers. She was highly amused by his antics already. It was marvelous to watch him fly. She looked forward to seeing more of it.

"I think you would find that an unwise decision. Now since you have untangled yourself, I suggest you fly back down here so we can discuss."

"I'm very willing to discuss from here." He tucked himself into a small form, though in a much more comfortable position than the net had allowed. "I understand. You're a scientist, and you want to learn about avian... what, biology? Behavior? I'll tell you right now, I do not have a cloaca, so don't even ask. I hate that question." He stopped his rambling, adjusting his position on the perch. He wore brown leather boots that didn't provide much grip on the perch. He hadn't planned on this. His sharp eyes were glancing around, and he was very disappointed to note that the only perch wide enough to act as a nesting platform was the lowest one, practically on top of this crazy lady.

Dr. Vaughn raised an eyebrow. As amusing as it had been for the first few minutes the lip was starting to get on her nerves. Never mind that though, she would have him tied down soon enough. Any lip that he dared to give her then would be superficial.

"That was not a suggestion. You will come down here. It is your choice whether or not it will be flying or falling." She pulled up a chair and sat in it with her legs crossed.

Streak scowled at her. He didn't really want to fall. He took an extra moment to steady himself, and glided downward, kicking off the wall, pleased at the scuff it left, and settling on the platform near her. He sat cross legged, his wings folded behind him. He needed time to preen them, but he wasn't about to let this kidnapping scientist watch. Not unless he could get something out of it.

"What are you trying to discuss?" He asked. It sounded a tad accusatory, but at least he wasn't rambling.

Dr. Vaughn smiled at his compliance and pulled out a small notebook, writing some notes down about his current behavior and appearance. She didn't say anything for several moments and just went about her business, curious to see what the avian would do in response to her ignoring him. She even pulled out her phone momentarily to report to her boss that she had acquired the specimen.

He rolled his eyes and sat back, pulling his hair out of the bun, smoothing it, and re-tying it. He couldn't help smoothing his feathers. He was all ruffled and mussed, and while he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of getting to watch him, he needed to fix it. It was instinctual, like needing to fix a hundred hangnails. He plucked a broken one and a bent one, straightening that one and putting it in his hair. The broken one he shoved in his pocket, he just didn't want her to have it. Of course, once he started, he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was so ritual, and calming, in an unsafe and unfamiliar environment. He picked through each section of feathers, smoothing and straightening, removing grains of dirt from between feathers, making sure it was all perfect.

Dr. Vaughn was pleased as she noticed the avian start to preen. She noticed him tuck one into his pocket and noted it for later. She further recorded the ways in which he cleaned himself up. the information being highly important for her research. When she was done she looked up at the avian.

"It seems I am at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Okay." He was perfectly okay with that. Still, he subconsciously tucked his streak of white behind his ear. To be fair, it wasn't his real name, but it was the only one he used. He stopped preening and folded his arms.

"It's not legal to kidnap an avian, any more than it is to kidnap a human. I don't consent to any sort of medical trials or anything like that, and as soon as I'm out of here I am going to make your life hell. Why am I here? Why won't you let me go home?!"

Dr. Vaughn smiled broadly. "That's where you are wrong. I happen to have special licensing to procure and test avian subjects. While it is generally illegal in this country to take avians, it is very legal to do so with proper licensing. I don't need your consent to do anything, unfortunately enough for you. That said, I am going to give you a word of advice: if you decide to make my job more difficult I will be very displeased and you will find that it is me that will make your life a living hell." Dr. Vaughn was lying slightly. She would be very pleased if he decided to make her job more difficult, but he didn't need to know that. Besides, the results wouldn't change whether he did or not. He would be punished for disobedience quickly and efficiently and she looked forward to it highly. "Now, I believe I asked for your name."

He paled slightly, he didn't like that answer at all. "I don't care how human supremacist you are, you can't just take me away from my life like a- wildlife specimen. There are people who depend on me, and you have no right to take me and- experiment on me!" He clenched his hands. "There can't be a law that just lets you kidnap people."

Dr. Vaughn held back a smile at his words. It was best not to antagonize him right now. She would have plenty of time to do that when he was properly restrained. "It is true that this is very unfortunate for you, but that doesn't make it illegal." She gave him a stern look. "And as entertaining as discussing human politics is, you will find that I am not a patient woman. I will only ask you one more time. What is your name?"

Streak scowled. "You can call me Streak," he said at last. "What was your name?" He never was good at names. And in his defense, he'd been in a pretty shitty situation just then, so he excused it. He really didn't believe that it was just legal for her to take him and have him. It didn't make sense, there was no possible way. But there also wasn't really anything he could do about it.

Dr. Vaughn nodded. "My name is Dr. Vaughn. Your name is nice, you can keep it." She wrote down his name in her notes and added a few more comments before looking up again. "Now Streak, tell me where are you from?" She asked. She wanted to see how he would react to her comment. Would he comment or would he just answer her question?

He laughed. "Thank you, for your permission to have specific sounds attributed to me." This whole situation was absurd, and he was going to keep pointing out the insane parts. "I live nearby, and I'd very much like to go back there. If I could punch through this wall, I could be home before midnight. Or maybe before breakfast. I'm really not sure what time it is, to be honest with you. Can we open some windows?"

Dr. Vaughn raised an eyebrow. His response was slightly unexpected. She was getting irritated with his rambling. She imagined that he would be far more receptive to her questions after some pain. It would also allow her to establish some rules. "You're right," she said, "I think we have wasted enough time sitting here and talking. I believe we can be more productive in a different setting." She pulled out her dart gun and quickly shot off two darts at Streak, giving him no time to react. "I think that you will find that this sedative does, in fact, knock you out."

#avian whumpee #avian #avian whump #wing whump #science whump #scientist whumper #female whumper #lady whumper #needles #injections #trypanophobia #sedation

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ash-1s-wr1t1ng · 3 months

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Floral Flesh - Part 1(?)

Based off of an idea from my mutual, @p-3-t-r-1-ch-0-r / @whumpy-written-works

Characters used/Mentioned: Dr. Maven Heltrine (OC), TS-0019 Valerian Andersen (OC), other unnamed OCs.

A/N: Actually may make this into a series as well. Unsure as of right now.

STANDARD DISCLAIMERS APPLY.

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The lab boys, as the majority of staff called them, came up with a new ‘prototype’ yet again, under a theory if their newest subject was able to produce and sustain flora.

Dr. Heltrine was the one that had the ‘pleasure’ of testing the prototype. Of course the thought of strapping someone down and injecting them with a serum as unstable as their security system wasn’t a pleasant one, it was his job as the head of the prototype department, and he enjoyed it.

Valerian wasn’t as keen about the idea, rightfully so.

He wasn’t just gonna let this happen. Kicking, struggling, and screaming, he tried everything to get away from this. However, the moment he saw a duo of Handlers enter, he lost his spirit, eventually giving in as he was strapped down to the exam bench.

“Now, here’s how this is gonna go” Dr. Heltrine explained, preparing a needle with the swirling green and brown serum of god knows what. “We’re gonna inject you with this prototype, and leave you here for a week. Th-“

“Wait- wait, what?” Valerian interrupted, angrily. “A week?! That’s not fair-!”

“QUIET!” Heltrine snapped, hushing Valerian immediately. “..As I was saying; Then, we’ll return, and see the effects, and adjust accordingly. The goal is to see if your… biology, is able to support plant life.”

“This- this is insane-“ Valerian stuttered out, even though he knew anything he said would be immediately brushed off.

“No, ‘19” Heltrine grinned, flicking the needle as he pressed a thumb to his wrist, found his pulse, and then aligned the needle accordingly. He had to admit, feeling the other’s pulse increase under his thumb was exhilarating, especially of something so inhuman. “It’s science.”

Valerian let out a choked cry as the needle sunk into his skin, a burning rushing through his body.

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#whump #whumpee #inhuman whumpee #test subject whumpee #valerian andersen #whumper #scientist whumper #maven heltrine #lab whump #science whump #sts laboratories #oc #oc whump #cw needles #cw restraints

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whumpbees · 10 months

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Subject-125 M Coral Snake Hybrid

s125 born on July 6th 20XX

Subject referred to by several staff as "Cheezit"

Subject kept in a 20" x 10" x 12" Glass terrarium with mesh top locked closed. Tank is equipped with 3 inch deep repti bark substrate, fake plants resembling vines, 3 hides, 1 stick, and 1 50 watt heat lamp.

Subject Care-

Subject is to be handled gently once daily in 15 minute sessions by a handler equipped with thick gloves and a snake hook. Handler's are allowed to speak to s125 in a quiet voice, but are not to respond to or encourage s125 verbally responding.

Feeding Schuedule is as follows, Subject should have constant access to fresh water in a bowl large enough to soak in. Water changed daily.

Mon- Fresh fruit/Vegitables dusted with Calcium

Tue- N/A

Wed- N/A

Thu- N/A

Fri- 1 Live Small/Medium Rodent

Sat- N/A

Sun- N/A

Photograph of s125 - Taken Oct 8th 20XX

Subject restrained after using its hands to undo the latch on its enclosure and escape, biting several doctors.

Y'all meet Cheezit!! My lil fella who I love beating up, customized to be perfect for that exact purpose >:D

I'm going to post about him so much I love him ask me things about him please please I'm so normsl abt this

#whump #lab whump #pet whump #whumpee #Honey Posts #science whump #g/t #g/t art #tiny whump #nonhuman whump #whump art #cheezit tag

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chaotic-orphan · 11 months

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June of Doom, day 1:

“You don’t want to do that”

collapse // fear // locked door

Cw: lab Whump/science whump/dehumanisation/experiment whumpee/scientist whumper/depersonalisation/death (mentioned)/dead body (mentioned)/beating (mentioned)/torture (implied)

*~*~*~*~*

Flint came to oversee his latest project before it was to be unveiled to the rest of the world. His perfect weapon. His trained mongrel mutt that he had been beating into submission since the day it was born.

It was in an enclosed reinforced cylinder. It took Flint’s engineering team weeks to figure out something strong enough to hold it. His little devil. Obeying only the whims of its master.

The doors slid open and Flint walked in. The scientists overseeing experiment 34214 all stopped when they noticed their chief step into the observation room.

“All hands to stations,” Flint said after a moment of respectful silence. His response was a resounding: “yes sir!”

The head scientist working under Flint’s command fell into step beside him, listing off the usual run down.

Vitals: good.

Mood: as expected.

Muscle capacity: normal.

Brain function: normal.

“All is well with Wolfe today, sir,” said Thrawn. Thrawn was an eccentric to say the least, but she had loose morals and looser ethics and wanted to push the boundaries of science.

No matter the cost.

Flint could work with that.

“Doctor Thrawn I must insist you call the subject by its medical name today.”

Thrawn just glanced at him from the corner of her eye with a wicked grin on her face. “He likes the name Wolfe.”

“A bit of professionalism today wouldn’t hurt, Doctor.”

“And here I thought you liked my unorthodox approach.”

Flint smiled. “There is a line to be drawn at public occasions. Once the day is out you can call it whatever you like.”

“Subject 34214 it is, sir.”

“Excellent. We must make sure this goes off without a hitch. We’ve worked too hard and too long for it to be any less than perfect.”

“Aye, sir,” said Thrawn and then went back to barking orders at the scientists on mains control. Flint just watched with a small, satisfied smile on his face. He was the first in the history of genetics to mutate humans beyond their original form.

To make them stronger. Faster. Smarter.

Earnest Flint’s name would go down in the history books, the next chapter following Darwin’s theory of evolution. Man made evolution. Flint made evolution.

It was time to show the world exactly what Flintlock Mechanics could do.

When the donors and shareholders started arriving along with the reporters for a few paper publications into the building it definitely generated a buzz. Flint smiled and welcomed them all in his perfectly tailored grey suit and tie. He even invited his rival from College who grinned widely when they saw Flint.

“Peters,” said Flint and put his arm out. The other man, Peters, grabbed his elbow and pulled him in for a hug. “Good to see you. So happy you could make it.”

“Of course, Flint, wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Peters stepping back. He was wearing a red dress shirt tucked into slacks, his stubble perfectly trimmed. The same renegade man he always was. Then Peters stepped back and revealed a raven haired woman who’s hazel eyes seemed a little too inquisitive, a little too judging.

Peters gestured to the woman in the red dress matching Peters, and said: “you of course remember Collins. Or should I say Doctor Collins.”

Flint smiled politely and bowed slightly, taking Collins’ hand in his and pressing a kiss to the knuckles: “of course. How are you Marion?”

“Intrigued to say the least, Flint,” she told him withdrawing her hand. Peters put his arm out and Collins took it with a demure smile. “Let us hope you haven’t broken too many laws of the Geneva convention for this revelation.”

Then the pair walked away, and Flint squeezed his hand into a fist, a scowl trying to make its way onto his face as he glanced after the pair. Then he took a deep breath and went back to his host’s smile and greeted his guests with charm and poise.

It was easier to walk back into the observation room while the curtains were drawn to see Thrawn smile confidently at him and put his mind at ease.

“How are our guests?”

“Opinionated and intrigued,” said Flint, not getting Collins’ comment out of his head. “Is everything perfect?”

“Running smoothly, sir.”

“Wonderful. I best go out and introduce it then.”

“You’ll do great, sir.”

Flint smiled, as thin as it was, and walked back out to the whispering crowd. Some had glasses of champagne in their hand. Peters was one such person, raising it in a toast as soon as Flint walked up to the mic.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am so happy to see so many of you showed up,” said Flint honestly, and that got a couple laughs from the crowd.

“I must admit my invitation was quite vague but I did promise you a night to remember,” said Flint, his confidence settling into his shoulder’s and his charming smile. “Tonight, you shall witness history. My team of geneticists and biochemists have developed human DNA that will bring our species into its next phase of evolution. I present to you: subject 34214.”

Flint boomed the name into the mic, stepping back and spreading his right arm wide as the curtains fell and gasps filled the room. The control room was sunk below the raised cylinder in the middle of the room, housing Subject 34214.

Gasps filled the room, some shouts of outrage demanding to know what the meaning of this was. That it wasn’t a subject but a human being.

Flint raised his hands to quieten the crowd down, his pleasant smile reassuring as he said: “I understand your concern. However, subject 34214 is not human. His DNA was sequenced into a cadaver which had donated his body to science.”

“That is an insult to his memory,” cried a man from the audience.

“Please, I understand your outrage. I understand. But without bodies donated to science we would never have the cures for modern medicine. We would never be able to fix any problem in our bodies without having first dissected them and seen what was inside,” Flint implored, and as he spoke the crowd’s outrage too settled. “Subject 34214 has human tissue. A brain. A heart. Muscles. Bones. Thoughts. Feelings.”

“How?” A clear voice demanded from the crowd. Collins. She was standing. “How can he have such things if he was dead?”

“Clinically dead,” said Flint. “Our subject was in a coma since the age of ten. At seventeen his parents having seen no brain activity decided to pull the plug. That’s when Flintlock mechanics stepped in.”

“A child cannot donate it’s body to science,” said Collins, voice hard.

“No,” said Flint, “but his parents could and did. As he told his parents he wanted to be a scientist when he was younger, they thought the best way to give him his one dream was to donate his body to science.”

A couple of lies and half truths and very lightly dusting over the intense blackmail and settlement the family received to stay quiet after signing their NDA.

Flint smiled humbly. Maybe a more human approach was better with this crowd. “We have taken to calling our subject: Wolfe, as he enjoys listening to Mozart to calm down after a long day.”

And another lie, wow. He was on a roll. Flint should have been a politician instead of a scientist. Maybe in the next life.

“May I present the one and only of his kind, Wolfe!”

Again he spread his arms dramatically, and turned to look through the observation glass and into the room to see Wolfe awaken.

It’s eyes flew open, too bright a blue to be human, blinking owlishly at it’s audience. Hair settling in its unnatural white waves. Wolfe placed a hand on the glass of its cage and stopped levitating, placing it’s feet on the ground. That elicited a couple gasps from the crowd. To know that while he slept he hovered, something not humanely possible.

Because Subject 34214 was not human.

It was human adjacent. Human-esque and that’s where the similarities ended.

“You must let us get a closer look,” said one of the shareholders. Flint found his wide eyes in the crowd. Quinton. Flint smiled as the glass to the observation deck opened and Flint invited everyone up on stage. To further inspect his creation. His creature.

A man in a slim black tailored suit and black dress shirt caught Flint’s eye as he straddled behind everyone. He was pale, red rimming his eyes to a point it almost looked painful. Sickly. Flint stopped him when he made to walk by, a cold smile found it’s way to his pale lips.

Dark eyes found Flint’s, so dark brown it almost looked black.

He stretched his hand in greeting, and said with the lilt of a French accent: “I don’t think we have been properly introduced. You must forgive me, I arrived later than expected. My name is Felix Graves. You of course need no introduction, Mr Flint.”

“My friends call me Flint,” said Flint with a charming smile.

The stranger smiled at him and it put Flint on edge. Something primal in his body screaming at him to run. “Enchanté. My friends call me Graves. How delightful to make your acquaintance.”

Then Graves dropped Flint’s hand and gestured for Flint to walk with him towards the cage. Flint obeyed.

“It is quite extraordinary what you have done here, Mr Flint,” said Graves, gesturing at the lab and the cage. “To have created life from death. It is beautiful, no?”

“Like I said, there was still life in the boy’s body,” said Flint, finding it harder and harder to keep the smile on his face.

Graves just smiled at him, turning his head so Flint could see the extent of it. It was a genuine smile, Flint could tell, but there was something behind it. Something lurking beneath skin, hidden, dangerous, malevolent.

“Ah. That is not the story you should tell the word, Mr Flint. People will get bored of semantics. You must craft the tale to enrapture the public, oui?” They stopped behind the crowd looking up at the cage and the inhuman boy. “The man who makes life from death, that is you, Monsieur.”

“And who are you, Mr Graves?” Flint asked and Graves smiled like it was the question he was waiting to be asked.

“Allow me to show you,” said Graves. He moved through the crowd with ease, slipping behind and through people trying to view the cage. Flint could only watch, eyebrows knitting together in confusion before he saw Graves stop beside the cage. Raising his hand to press to the glass.

“Mr Graves!” Flint called in a panic. “You don’t want to do that. It is unsafe.”

Graves smiled back showing all their teeth. “I know.”

The moment Graves pressed his hand to the glass Wolfe looked down at him. A cackle of green electricity lit up the cage, eliciting gasps from the crowd in delight. They thought it was part of the show.

Flint knew better.

Wolfe’s eyes went to Flint then and flashed an unnatural green.

Then the electricity went out and the lab was thrust into darkness.

The sound of glass shattering and then a scream turned to many. People panicked, running back towards the auditorium, back towards the safety of the exits. When the lights came back on Graves was gone.

And the cage was empty.

Broken from the inside out, and people were screaming. Flint just looked down to Thrawn who was standing in shock staring at the empty cage much like he was. Then he saw her fall to her knees, then collapse to the side. Only then did he see the scorch marks over her heart.

Someone grabbed his arm and turned him away from the scene, all he saw was red.

Peters.

“Hey Flint! Flint?! Look at me buddy, hey! The door’s locked, Flint. Why are the doors locked? People are panicking.”

“I— the doors shouldn’t be locked,” said Flint, breathless.

“Well they are and no one can get out. Do you have the keys? A back entrance? Hey, Flint! Look at me!”

But Flint’s eyes were drawn to the stage where Graves now stood at the microphone, his dark eyes catching Flint’s with a wink and a smirk as he said: “ladies and gentlemen, do not panic. This is no time for fear or tears. That part comes later, please everyone take your seats for the next part of this presentation.”

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whumpsmith · 8 months

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OC talk~

Female whumpee/caretaker time! She's one of my few characters who suffers more from situational whump rather than one or several whumpers inflicting situations on her. Most of them are related to her job as a scientist, such as the lab explosion that gave her her powers~

More about she under the cut

Jo is a brilliant woman whose mind can run so fast even she can't catch up! She has ADHD but that doesn't stop her from chasing her dreams. Together with her father she runs a large pharmaceutical company where she focuses her research on curing diseases. In her story's universe they're known for successfully creating treatments for various ailments as well as preventing them.

She also runs a couple of personal projects meant to improve the lives of her fellow supers, such as pills to boost their energy in a pinch, as well as certain gear to keep them safe (e.g. bulletproof, heat- and cold resistant clothing, etc.)

She's one of the first people introduced who seems to have gained her abilities through artificial means. Testing various methods on herself (against recommendation) she discovers she had been successful when she survives a lab explosion by teleporting through the blast somehow.

After getting the hang of her newfound abilities, she impulsively takes the step to become a superhero, using her ability to teleport to be at the scene of a crime fast, or her big beautiful brain to solve issues with the power of science!

She gets hurt trying to do good sometimes, but she more often than not still accidentally leaves the gas open without igniting the burner, or spills a chemical that absolutely shouldn't be handled with butterfingers!

Read all about her mishaps in her story~

#oc's #whumpee #ladywhump #no whumper #science whump #lab accidents #superheroes #superpowers #new powers #artificial powers #teleporting ability #teleportation #mirage #jo

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haro-whumps · 2 years

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Whumptober 2: Caged

At first, Fang wasn’t even bothered.

All his nightmares started with him waking up in that cage.

Back in the facility, the stink of excrement that the bleach couldn’t quite overwhelm, the metallic air that circulated too-cold through the vents, the sounds of subdued shuffling and many other creatures’ breaths. All of it achingly familiar. The past brought into the present again and again and again.

Then he remembered the fight. That he’d been caught.

“Max!” he shouted as he snapped upright, hair tingling as it brushed the top of the cage, just barely large enough for him to sit up in. “Max! Angel!”

Thank god the other three had been off on their own, but Max and Angel had been there, been with him, and he’d been the first to go down but there was no way Max would’ve just let him get caught, get dragged off and shoved back in a cage and shipped off, back here, back to where all their nightmares settled in to root.

“Pipe it down, birdbrain,” someone else called, and through the heavy shadows Fang could make out someone slimy. Maybe aquatic based? “You’re the only wings they dragged in. Your friends aren’t here.”

Relief hit Fang like a log to the chest and he sank back down to the cold metal bottom. They weren’t here. Max had gotten Angel out. It was just him. Just him, alone, back in a cage.

#whumptober2022 #no.2 #caged #maximum ride #fang #cages #science whump #kidnapped whumpee #mine #whumptober #whump #writing

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ash-th3-fae · 9 months

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hehe whump drabble >:3 i dunno i’m bored and kind of out of it so it’s writing time. this went in a really weird direction idk

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Malachite was never one for idle submission. Hy was ferocious. Hy wasn’t afraid to stand hys ground, hy was a beast that wasn’t afraid to bare hys teeth at man.

“Don’t bite the hand that feeds” they say, but a starved dog will bite you if you take that same food away.

Hy didn’t care how many times Maine used his stupid obedience methods. Hy didn’t care how much venom Maine extracted. Hy didn’t care how many cuts hy had to endure just for Maine’s “studies”. Hy wasn’t gonna go down without a fight.

Many times Maine had been forced to tie Malachite down just to get what he needed, and even then hy still resisted. He had to admit he was impressed by hys persistence.

But it was also frustrating. He’d tried everything. He even had hymn locked away in a claustrophobic, dark cell, with minimal food, water, anything. But yet Malachite still persisted like it was day one.

He couldn’t understand. And doing this by himself didn’t make it any easier. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d narrowly avoided getting bitten by Malachite’s venomous fangs, or cut by his claws. He was at the least grateful that he’d figured out how to repress hys powers, but, he couldn’t do all of this by himself. It was too risky…

He needed a partner. Maybe that would make Malachite would be more compliant, or at least a tad easier to handle.

#new ocs >:3 #malachite deltine #and uhh #maine birldin #i love them #yes i came up with their last names just now shush #oc #whump #science whump #whumpee #whumper #i dunno i’m not good at writing whump :c

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the-three-whumpeteers · 5 months

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The whumper saw the perfect opportunity to learn about the whumpee’s species when they caught them. Despite their research being highly illegal and secretive, the whumper was determined to learn as much as they could, not caring about the whumpee’s comfort nor pain levels as they did so, as they were far more occupied with running their tests. Sometimes, the whumper would use the excuse of a test to take out their anger and frustration on the whumpee as well.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #science whump #nonhuman whumpee #experimentation #help I forgot that word and the only thing that came to my mind was the little centrifuge machine and that is NOT what the whumper is doing #sticks the whumpee in a little spinny and goes real fast

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bannysburrow · 1 year

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Hello, I’m here to share another whump dream I had. In this one, I’m the whumpee. It was a while ago that I had this dream, but I’ll do my best to remember most of it.

I had angel-like wings, but I wasn’t an angel. Scientists were holding me captive and torturing me to research my wings. One day, they accidentally left my cage unlocked and I was able to get out. I don’t remember how I got out of the laboratory, but I’m guessing they left that door unlocked too.

When I was escaping, I couldn’t fly because my wings were very wounded from tests the scientists did on them. I walked instead and found my real life house. I don’t remember if dream-me recognized it or not, but that was the house I went to for refuge. A girl I don’t know let me in and we decided I should cover my wings with a blanket. I don’t remember much after that, but the scientists found me and the one who was leading them to me was one of my real life friends.

I woke up when I was dragged back to the laboratory.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #but only for a second #multiple whumpers #wing whump #science whump #is that a tag idk #captivity whump #whump dream #supernatural whumpee #supernatural whump

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scratchandplaster · 6 months

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Imagine a clone Whumpee:

A copy of a gone loved one, artificially grown in a lab and designed to fill the endless void that's left in Whumper's heart. Their child, lover or long-passed family member could be replaced by another version, one Whumper can keep close and safe from the world.

But maybe Whumpee wants to finally have some freedom or learns the truth about how they came to be. What if they don't act like the original; maybe have a flaw in their design?

Whumper doesn't want history repeating itself, so restrictive measures have to happen before anything can hurt their precious Whumpee, much to their discontent. Tension rises and as Whumpee tries to leave, the self-fulfilling prophecy ensues.

So what if Whumper messed up again?! They can always make a new one 🧬

#whump #whumpblr #creative writing #whump community #whump prompt #lab whump #cloning #clone whumpee #scientist whumper #obsessive whumper #parental whumper #yandere whumper #death #murder #science whump

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pxppet · 1 year

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Year of Whump January 15 Prompt!

experimental injection / threatening loved ones / warehouse / warm bubble bath / “I promise this won’t hurt”

Posting early because I was very inspired! An AU that includes IRIS for once. This is a glimpse into some ideas I've had for a while now, enjoy!

CW: kidnapping, inhumane science experiments, dehumanization, captivity, muzzles, restraint, autistic character being overstimulated, manipulative caretaker, nightmares, human weapon trope & mention

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The doctors- if you can even call them that - surround Jackie, they stink of gauze and chemicals and death, death, death. The whole of the IRIS building stinks of it. Jackie could smell it even before they'd begun to inject him with this pale, glowing green liquid.

"Hold him still," someone commands. Useless, Jackie has been stronger, and stronger still, with each passing day. "You are safe, Mr. Reid." He lets out a scream, like a big cat's roar, as the needle presses into his stretch-marked false muscles. He's sobbing, biting, thrashing. The metal restraints are bending and bowing with his strength.

The doctors just watch, stare, eyes behind goggles observing him like a prized cut of steak; like a natural disaster. Jackie gnashes at a hand coming near him, but the IRIS doctors have had him muzzled since he bit one scientists hand off entirely. Jackie doesn't know why he chewed, why he swallowed, and why it felt fantastic.

He bangs his head back against the metal table over, and over, as green liquid shines through his skin in every vein inside his contorted body. He screams out at them, at god, at anyone. He's begging for his mother, he's threatening them with death. Nothing he says will matter, he is an animal to them. He grinds his teeth so hard on the bit of the muzzle it snaps in half. He swallows the plastic without hesitation, choking it down just to be rid of it.

His metal table is wheeled through monochrome hallways as his cries turn to begging and whimpering, the medicine slowing and settling.

---

"The date is September 12th, 2017. State your name for the record."

"J-jackson Reid," he trembles out into the muzzle.

"Mr. Reid, may you state the reason for being at this facility."

"Test- testing. I v-volunteered." His muscles strain, too big and powerful for him, he used to be so lean and fit, now he looks like a freak. He knows he must.

"What drug are you here to test, Mr. Reid." The scientist's eyebrow raises observing, watching, like any other eye or camera shoved at him.

"I don't know."

"Subject has forgotten name of experiment, refer to psychiatrist for evaluation-"

"I don't want another fucking shrink!" Jackie feels the rage but distant, not him, him but not him.

"Calm down Mr. Reid. You are safe in the care of our psychiatrists I assure you."

"Can we just do this another time?" Something is surging in him, but it always is these days. "Please just let me sleep."

The scientist stares hard at him. "For now, fine. But you must complete the questionnaire at least once weekly, as you know. It will not hurt you."

"I know," he says, small.

She leaves, and he tries to find any comfort in the metal prison of a bed.

Jackie is awoken suddenly. A light is shining in his room. Great, what's this fucking place doing now, is his groaned thought.

Until a figure steps out of the light. They look around, and glowing eyes land on him. Jackie tenses, the metal groaning. Adrenaline pumps into him, and its painful. He cries out. A hand falls over his mouth. He gasps into it, staring up.

"Looks painful. Get some rest, love." The strangers voice is echoing, resonating, surrounding him. Yes… Yes he would like some sleep. Rest would be good. Yeah.

He sleeps.

Jackie slips into the waking world in a slow, climbing jump into awareness. He feels warm, tired, slippery. He raises his hands, and through a fog he sees… bubbles.

He jolts up, gasping. His hand lightly cracks the blue-green bathtub below him. He winces and pulls it away, gritting his teeth in preemptive apology. But no one is around. Jackie can hear them though. In the house next door, in the street outside, and… in the next room over. He sits up, water sloshing around him.

"Hello?" he calls. The sound of someone saying "shit", followed by rustling, and someone moving to just outside the door. It opens upon someone in a black robe with a black mask over the top half of their face.

"Hi," they speak. Their voice is rough, worn out, and distinctly a northern English accent. They smell like they've just rolled in freshly mowed grass then dumped river water on themself. "Before anything- You're safe. Don't use your muscles too much, they're all torn, literally all. You've been strained for so long I can't even guess."

"Who… Am I still in IRIS? Are- Will you-" Jackie backs against the wall behind the bath slowly, trying to seem compliant and small. The indented scar along his cheeks and nose grimly keep his mind on pain, pain, pain. "Don't hurt me."

The masked person sighs. "Like I said, you're safe. Jackson Reid?"

"Jackie," he corrects too quickly. "P-please just- just Jackie."

The person smiles, warm and friendly. "Jackie. I can't tell you my name yet. But you can call me The Cat, if you want."

"The… That is so fucking formal. Where am I?"

"I can't tell you, but you're-"

""Stop! Don't- don't say that a-anymore, please don't." Jackie holds his own head, trembling.

"Okay," the person agrees quickly. They move to sit beside the tub. Jackie blinks at them, arms curled near his chest like a tyrannosaurus. "I can tell you a thing or two, but just that. You're in my boss' apartment. I'm taking care of you. The bubble bath is a spell of mine, it helps the healing of tissue."

"Magic. M-may as fucking well exist after the shit I've s-seen."

"Have you always had a stutter?"

"What does- does it matter?"

"We're worried the experimental shit they tricked you into damaged your brain. One of us- there's an 'us' by the way- can work with heads and hearts. She took a look and there's… weird shit, let's just say."

This makes Jackie snort, despite it all. "Weird shit? That's the b-best you got huh?"

The stranger sends him a wry smile. "When it comes to the fuckers at IRIs, it could be anything. I'm… sorry. You were just a citizen. You didn't deserve this. Not that those- those asswipes fucking care."

Jackie hums, and lays back into the water. He hasn't stopped shaking since he's woken up. The masked person tsks and reaches out, holding Jackie's arm. Jackie jolts, but he was trained to not pull away. He sits still for the examination, letting himself be bathed. He doesn't even want to know the punishments a magical person would give. IRIS's were enough.

---

Hours later, Jackie has been laid to sleep in the guest room of the house. The mask finally comes off. Long hair tumbles down as the hood is removed.

Marvin scratches long nails through their hair, shaking it out and sighing. Unnatural, inhuman blue eyes scan the coffee table. They pick up their burner phone and pull up the photo gallery. Plopping onto their boss' sofa, they scroll through photos of several dark haired chilren and teens with their mum. A cruel joke compared to the muzzle-scarred man with over-stretched, bulking muscle on a too small frame. They've been stalking Jackson for their boss for months. He's an asset, one who will become a great soldier for them. IRIS will be expecting him, sure, but expectations mean nothing in the face of the beast they've created.

Marvin's eyes downcast, then close. The death threats they were ordered to send Jackson Reid's family still disturb them. But they had to make sure; Jackson has to have connections to no one but their team from here on. They puff out a stressed breath, and pull the blanket and pillows from the back of the sofa to form a bed. Their boss will be home to de-brief Jacks- Jackie tomorrow, then they can begin training him properly. For now the healing bath and a good rest should help him begin to see the coven as safe.

Marvin curls up, and sleeps.

Jackie tosses an turns in his sleep, nightmaring of a metal muzzle digging through his flesh until his teeth fall out. He will wake to a new life - well, a new, new life - tomorrow. A mattress and blankets will soothe out the knots made by the metal and medication. He is no longer a prisoner. Things can only go up from here, Jackie is sure.

#jacksepticeye iris #i.r.i.s #jse iris #whump #science whump #jackieboy man #marvin the magnificent #experiment whump #caretaker whump #caretaker trope #whumpee #experiment whumpee #jse jackie #jse marvin #year of whump

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