#alex and z2

[whumptywhumpdump]

I was thinking about this one tonight...

I love my traumatized boy going through things™️

Cam Sickfic

timeline: current- Alex’s apartment

Cw: BBU, sickness, fever, delirium, vomiting, past child neglect and past child abuse, implied drug abuse and addiction, mentioned death of a parent, box boy universe, pet whump, collar mention, food and eating habits, shower scene, manhandling, physical struggling, begging, crying, nonsexual nudity, sort of a forced strip. (Alex means well)

Thank you @morelikepainsley for this entire idea! (Down to many of the details! It’s practically co-authored)

***

Cam had always retreated to his room when he was sick. He went quiet, barely came out for food. He slept until he felt better. Alex had witnessed it last winter with that cold they’d all caught, the one that had him carrying around Halls cough drops in his pocket for three weeks. 

Zee got it too, and Dominic had responded by making him healthy smoothies every afternoon, chalky green things Zee choked down gratefully. Alex was convinced Zee would drink antifreeze if Dominic told him to. 

Continuar lendo

[whumpawink]

My Favorite Whump (or whump-y) Series

@pretty-face-breaker ‘s Emir’s Masterlist (1973)

@deluxewhump ‘s The Blackmuir Reign

@deluxewhump ‘s True North

@whumpwillow ‘s Hazeshift

@whump-in-the-closet ‘s Liberosis

@ashintheairlikesnow ‘s Erase to Control

@whumpering-heights ‘s Behind the Masks

@deluxewhump ‘s Frathouse Boxboy (Z2) (some NSFW)

@whumpsday ‘s Kane and Jim

@/coldresolve ‘s Moneymakers (pls do not tag as whump)

@whumblr ‘s :

Home is Where the Hurt is

Custody Series

@painsandconfusion ‘s With You

@whump-world ‘s Deal with the Devil (NSFW)

@spookyboywhump ‘s Wren/Zander/Cain

@whumpshaped ‘s Devil... h-hot... (crack whump) (SOME NSFW)

@whumpshaped ‘s 7 Minutes in Hell

@whumpzone ‘s Linden and Colton (SOME NSFW)

Tomas and Rowe

@the-bloody-sadist ‘s Dancing with Death

@hurting-fictional-people ‘s Whumpee Betrays Caretaker

@whump-tr0pes ‘s Honor Bound

@whumpers-inc ‘s Who Wants To Be A Whumpee?

@thoughtsonhurtandcomfort ‘s Arrin and Alex (SOME NSFW)

@secretwhumplair ‘s No Warrior (some implied NSFW)

@whumpacabra ‘s The Black Knight

@ shameless whumper’s Jericho series

(since this is gonna be ongoing and constantly edited pls lemme know if every time i edit it tags yall again and i’ll unlink the @‘s 😅💖)

[smashpages]

Nominees announced for the 2023 Eisner Awards

Comic-Con International has announced the nominees for this year’s Will Eisner Comic Industry Awards. This is the 35th year for the awards, which will be given out at this year’s Comic-Con International on July 21.

In terms of publishers, Image Comics received the most nominations, followed by DC, Fantagraphics, Marvel and Dark Horse. Creator-wise, Zoe Thorogood led the pack with five nominations. Hall of Fame nominees and inductees were announced earlier this month.

And the nominees are …

Best Short Story

“The Beekeeper’s Due,” by Jimmy Stamp and Débora Santos, in Scott Snyder Presents: Tales from the Cloakroom (Cloakroom Comics)

“Finding Batman” by Kevin Conroy and J. Bone in DC Pride 2022 (DC)

“Good Morning,” by Christopher Cantwell and Alex Lins, in Moon Knight: Black, White & Blood #4 (Marvel)

“Silent All These Years,” by Margaret Atwood and David Mack, in Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes (Z2)

“You Get It,” by Jonathan Hickman and Marco Checchetto, in Amazing Fantasy #1000 (Marvel)

Best Single Issue/One-Shot

Batman: One Bad Day: The Riddler, by Tom King and Mitch Gerads (DC)

Mary Jane & Black Cat Beyond, by Jed Mackay and C. F. Villa (Marvel)

Moon Knight: Black, White, and Blood #3, edited by Tom Brevoort (Marvel)

Star Trek #400, edited by Heather Antos (IDW)

A Vicious Circle Book 1, by Mattson Tomlin and Lee Bermejo (BOOM! Studios)

Best Continuing Series

Daredevil, by Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto and Rafael de Latorre (Marvel)

The Department of Truth, by James Tynion IV and Martin Simmonds (Image)

Killadelphia, by Rodney Barnes and Jason Shawn Alexander (Image)

The Nice House on the Lake, by James Tynion IV and Alvaro Martinez Bueno (DC)

Nightwing, by Tom Taylor and Bruno Redondo (DC)

She-Hulk, by Rainbow Rowell, Rogê Antônio, Luca Maresca, and Takeshi Miyazawa (Marvel)

Best Limited Series

Animal Castle, by Xavier Dorison and Felix Delep (Ablaze)

Batman: One Bad Day, edited by Dave Wielgosz and Jessica Berbey (DC)

The Human Target, by Tom King and Greg Smallwood (DC)

Miracleman by Gaiman & Buckingham: The Silver Age, by Neil Gaiman and Mark Buckingham (Marvel)

Superman: Space Age, by Mark Russell, Michael Allred, and Laura Allred (DC)

Best New Series

The Atonement Bell, by Jim Ousley and Tyler B. Ruff (Red 5)

Love Everlasting, by Tom King and Elsa Charretier (Image)

Public Domain, by Chip Zdarsky (Image)

Star Trek, by Collin Kelly, Jackson Lanzing, and Ramon Rosanas (IDW)

Traveling to Mars, by Mark Russell and Roberto Meli (Ablaze)

Best Publication for Early Readers (up to age 8)

Beneath The Trees: A Fine Summer, by Dav (Magnetic Press)

Fox + Chick: Up and Down: and Other Stories, by Sergio Ruzzier (Chronicle Books)

Grumpy Monkey Who Threw That? by Suzanne Lang and Max Lang (Random House Studio)

Hey, Bruce!: An Interactive Book, by Ryan Higgins (Disney/Hyperion)

The Pigeon Will Ride the Roller Coaster! by Mo Willems (Union Square Kids)

Best Publication for Kids (ages 9-12)

Adventuregame Comics: Leviathan, by Jason Shiga (Amulet/Abrams)

Frizzy, by Claribel A. Ortega and Rose Bousamra (First Second/Macmillan)

Isla To Island, by Alexis Castellanos (Atheneum/Simon & Schuster)

Little Monarchs, by Jonathan Case (Margaret Ferguson Books/Holiday House)

Swim Team, by Johnnie Christmas (HarperAlley)

Best Publication for Teens (ages 13-17)

Chef’s Kiss, by Jarrett Melendez and Danica Brine (Oni)

Clementine Book One, by Tillie Walden (Image Skybound)

Do A Powerbomb! by Daniel Warren Johnson (Image)

Heartstopper Volume 4, by Alice Oseman (Scholastic Graphix)

Wash Day Diaries, by Jamila Rowser and Robyn Smith (Chronicle Books)

Best Humor Publication

Cryptid Club, by Sarah Andersen (Andrews McMeel)

I Hate This Place, by Kyle Starks and Artyom Topilin (Image Skybound)

Killer Queens, by David Booher and Claudia Balboni (Dark Horse)

Mr. Lovenstein Presents: Failure, by J. L. Westover (Image Skybound)

Revenge of the Librarians, by Tom Gauld (Drawn & Quarterly)

Best Anthology

Creepshow, edited by Alex Antone and Jon Moisan (Image Skybound)

The Illustrated Al: The Songs of “Weird Al” Yankovic, edited by Josh Bernstein (Z2)

The Nib Magazine, edited by Matt Bors (Nib)

Sensory: Life on the Spectrum, edited by Bex Ollerton (Andrews McMeel)

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes, The Graphic Album, edited by Rantz Hoseley (Z2)

Best Reality-Based Work

Alfred Hitchcock: The Master of Suspense, by Noël Simsolo and Dominique Hé, translation by Montana Kane (NBM)

Alice Guy: First Lady of Film, by José-Louis Bocquet and Catel Muller, translation by Edward Gauvin (SelfMadeHero)

But I Live: Three Stories of Child Survivors of the Holocaust, edited by Charlotte Schallié (University of Toronto Press)

Flung Out of Space, by Grace Ellis and Hannah Templer (Abrams ComicArts)

Invisible Wounds: Graphic Journalism, by Jess Ruliffson (Fantagraphics)

Pinball: A Graphic History of the Silver Ball, by Jon Chad (First Second/Macmillan)

Best Graphic Memoir

Down to the Bone: A Leukemia Story, by Catherine Pioli, translated by J. T. Mahany (Graphic Mundi/Penn State University Press)

Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands, by Kate Beaton (Drawn & Quarterly)

It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth: An Auto-Bio-Graphic-Novel, by Zoe Thorogood (Image)

So Much for Love: How I Survived a Toxic Relationship, by Sophie Lambda (First Second/Macmillan)

Welcome to St. Hell: My Trans Teen Misadventure, by Lewis Hancox (Scholastic Graphix)

Best Graphic Album—New

The Book of Niall, by Barry Jones (Ellie & Beatty)

Crushing, by Sophie Burrows (Algonquin Young Readers)

Francis Rothbart! The Tale of a Fastidious Feral, by Thomas Woodruff (Fantagraphics)

The Night Eaters, Book 1: She Eats the Night, by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (Abrams ComicArts)

Ultrasound, by Conor Stechschulte (Fantagraphics)

Best Graphic Album—Reprint

Days of Sand, by Aimée de Jongh, translation by Christopher Bradley (SelfMadeHero)

Geneviève Castrée: Complete Works, by Geneviève Castrée, translation by Phil Elverum and Aleshia Jensen (Drawn & Quarterly)

Mazebook Dark Horse Direct Edition, by Jeff Lemire (Dark Horse)

One Beautiful Spring Day, by Jim Woodring (Fantagraphics)

Parker: The Martini Edition—Last Call, by Richard Stark, Darwyn Cooke, Ed Brubaker, and Sean Phillips (IDW)

Super Spy Deluxe Edition, by Matt Kindt (Dark Horse)

Best Adaptation from Another Medium

Chivalry by Neil Gaiman, adapted by Colleen Doran (Dark Horse)

Rain by Joe Hill, adapted by David M. Booher and Zoe Thorogood (Syzygy/Image)

Ten Days in a Madhouse, by Nellie Bly, adapted by Brad Ricca and Courtney Sieh (Gallery 13/Simon $ Schuster)

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes, The Graphic Album, edited by Rantz Hoseley (Z2)

A Visit to Moscow by Rabbi Rafael Grossman, adapted by Anna Olswanger and Yevgenia Nayberg (Turner)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material

Always Never, by Jordi Lafebre, translation by Montana Kane (Dark Horse)

Blacksad: They All Fall Down Part 1, by Juan Díaz Canales and Juanjo Guarnido, translation by Diana Schutz and Brandon Kander (Dark Horse)

Down to the Bone: A Leukemia Story, by Catherine Pioli, translation by J. T. Mahany (Graphic Mundi/Penn State University Press)

The Pass, by Espé, translation by J.T. Mahany (Graphic Mundi/Penn State University Press)

Tiki: A Very Ruff Year, by David Azencot and Fred Leclerc, translation by Nanette McGuinness (Life Drawn/Humanoids)

Best U.S. Edition of International Material—Asia

Black Paradox, by Junji Ito, translation by Jocelyne Allen (VIZ Media)

The Hellbound vols. 1-2, by Yeon Sang-ho and Choi Gyu-seok, translation by Danny Lim (Dark Horse)

Look Back, by Tatsuki Fujimoto, translation by Amanda Haley (VIZ Media)

PTSD Radio vol. 1, by Masaaki Nakayama, translation by Adam Hirsch (Kodansha)

Shuna’s Journey, by Hayao Miyazaki; translation by Alex Dudok de Wit (First Second/Macmillan)

Talk to My Back, by Yamada Murasaki, translation by Ryan Holmberg (Drawn & Quarterly)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Strips (at least 20 years old)

Bungleton Green and the Mystic Commandos, by Jay Jackson (New York Review Comics)

Come Over Come Over, It’s So Magic, and My Perfect Life, by Lynda Barry (Drawn & Quarterly)

The George Herriman Library: Krazy & Ignatz 1922-1924, by George Herriman, edited by J. Michael Catron (Fantagraphics)

Macanudo: Welcome to Elsewhere, by Liniers, edited by Gary Groth (Fantagraphics)

Pogo The Complete Syndicated Comic Strips: Volume 8: Hijinks from the Horn of Plenty, by Walt Kelly, edited by Mark Evanier and Eric Reynolds (Fantagraphics)

Best Archival Collection/Project—Comic Books (at least 20 Years Old)

The Deluxe Gimenez: The Fourth Power & The Starr Conspiracy, by Juan Gimenez, edited by Alex Donoghue and Bruno Lesigne (Humanoids)

The Fantastic Worlds of Frank Frazetta, edited by Dian Hansen (TASCHEN)

Home to Stay! The Complete Ray Bradbury EC Stories, by Ray Bradbury and various; edited by J. Michael Catron (Fantagraphics)

The Simpsons Treehouse of Horror Ominous Omnibus 1 (Abrams ComicArts)

Walt Disney’s Uncle Scrooge: The Diamond Jubilee Collection, by Carl Barks; edited by David Gerstein (Fantagraphics)

Best Writer

Grace Ellis, Flung Out of Space (Abrams ComicArts)

Tom King, Batman: Killing Time, Batman: One Bad Day, Gotham City: Year One, The Human Target, Supergirl: Woman of Tomorrow (DC); Love Everlasting (Image)

Mark Russell, Traveling to Mars (Ablaze), One-Star Squadron, Superman: Space Age (DC); The Incal: Psychoverse (Humanoids)

James Tynion IV, House of Slaughter, Something Is Killing the Children, Wynd (BOOM! Studios); The Nice House on the Lake, The Sandman Universe: Nightmare Country (DC), The Closet, The Department of Truth (Image)

Chip Zdarsky, Stillwater (Image Skybound); Daredevil (Marvel)

Best Writer/Artist

Sarah Andersen, Cryptid Club (Andrews McMeel)

Kate Beaton, Ducks: Two Years in the Oil Sands (Drawn & Quarterly)

Espé, The Pass (Graphic Mundi/Penn State University)

Junji Ito, Black Paradox, The Liminal Zone (VIZ Media)

Zoe Thorogood, It’s Lonely at the Centre of the Earth (Image)

Best Penciller/Inker or Penciller/Inker Team

Jason Shawn Alexander, Killadelphia, Nita Hawes’ Nightmare Blog (Image)

Alvaro Martínez Bueno, The Nice House on the Lake (DC)

Sean Phillips, Follow Me Down, The Ghost in You (Image)

Bruno Redondo, Nightwing (DC)

Greg Smallwood, The Human Target (DC)

Best Painter/Multimedia Artist (interior art)

Lee Bermejo, A Vicious Circle (BOOM! Studios)

Felix Delep, Animal Castle (Ablaze)

Daria Schmitt, The Monstrous Dreams of Mr. Providence (Europe Comics)

Sana Takeda, The Night Eaters: She Eats the Night (Abrams ComicArts); Monstress (Image)

Zoe Thorogood, Rain (Syzygy/Image)

Thomas Woodruff, Francis Rothbart! The Tale of a Fastidious Feral (Fantagraphics)

Best Cover Artist (for multiple covers)

Jen Bartel, She-Hulk (Marvel)

Bruno Redondo, Nightwing (DC)

Alex Ross, Astro City: That Was Then . . . (Image); Fantastic Four, Black Panther (Marvel)

Sana Takeda, Monstress (Image)

Zoe Thorogood, Joe Hill’s Rain (Syzygy/Image)

Best Coloring

Jordie Bellaire, The Nice House on the Lake, Suicide Squad: Blaze (DC); Antman, Miracleman by Gaiman & Buckingham: The Silver Age (Marvel)

Jean-Francois Beaulieu, I Hate Fairyland 2022, Twig (Image)

Dave McCaig, The Incal: Psychoverse (Humanoids)

Jacob Phillips, Follow Me Down, The Ghost in You, That Texas Blood (Image)

Alex Ross and Josh Johnson, The Fantastic Four: Full Circle (Abrams ComicArts)

Diana Sousa, Critical Role: Vox Machina Origins; The Mighty Nein Origins: Yasha Nydoorin; The Mighty Nein Origins: Fjord Stone; The Mighty Nein Origins: Caleb Widogast (Dark Horse)

Best Lettering

Pat Brosseau, Batman: The Knight, Wonder Woman: The Villainy of Our Fears (DC): Creepshow, Dark Ride, I Hate This Place, Skybound Presents: Afterschool (Image Skybound)

Chris Dickey, The Night Eaters: She Eats the Night (Abrams ComicArts)

Todd Klein, Chivalry (Dark Horse); Fables (DC); Miracleman by Gaiman & Buckingham: The Silver Age (Marvel)

Nate Piekos, Black Hammer Reborn, Minor Threats, Shaolin Cowboy, Stranger Things: Kamchatka (Dark Horse), I Hate Fairyland, Twig (Image)

Stan Sakai, Usagi Yojimbo (IDW)

Thomas Woodruff, Francis Rothbart! The Tale of a Fastidious Feral (Fantagraphics)

Best Comics-Related Periodical/Journalism

Alter Ego, edited by Roy Thomas (TwoMorrows)

Comic Book Creator, edited by Jon B. Cooke (TwoMorrows)

The Comics Journal #308, edited by Gary Groth, Kristy Valenti, and Rachel Miller (Fantagraphics)

PanelXPanel magazine, edited by Hassan Otsmane-Elhaou and Tiffany Babb (panelxpanel.com)

Rob Salkowitz, Forbes, ICv2, Publishers Weekly

Best Comics-Related Book

The Art of the News: Comics Journalism, edited by Katherine Kelp-Stebbins and Ben Saunders (Oregon State University Press)

Charles M. Schulz: The Art and Life of the Peanuts Creator in 100 Objects, by Benjamin L. Clark and Nat Gertler (Schulz Museum)

The Charlton Companion, by Jon B. Cooke (TwoMorrows)

Gladys Parker: A Life in Comics, A Passion for Fashion, by Trina Robbins (Hermes Press)

Resurrection: Comics in Post-Soviet Russia, by José Alaniz (Ohio State University Press)

Best Academic/Scholarly Work

Bandits, Misfits, and Superheroes: Whiteness and Its Borderlands in American Comics and Graphic Novels, by Josef Benson and Doug Singsen (University Press of Mississippi)

Graphic Medicine, edited by Erin La Cour and Anna Poletti (University of Hawai’i’ Press)

How Comics Travel: Publication, Translation, Radical Literacies, by Katherine Kelp-Stebbins (Ohio State University Press)

The LGBTQ+ Comics Studies Reader: Critical Openings, Future Directions, edited by Alison Halsall and Jonathan Warren (University Press of Mississippi)

Teaching with Comics and Graphic Novels. By Tim Smyth (Routledge)

Best Publication Design

Francis Rothbart! The Tale of a Fastidious Feral, designed by Thomas Woodruff, Jacob Covey, and Ryan Dinnick (Fantagraphics)

A Frog in the Fall (and later on), designed by Linnea Sterte, Olle Forsslöf, and Patrick Crotty (PEOW)

Joan Jett & the Blackhearts 40X40: Bad Reputation/I Love Rock-n-Roll, designed by Josh Bernstein and Jason Ullmeyer (Z2)

Mazebook Dark Horse Direct Edition, designed by Tom Muller (Dark Horse)

Parker: The Martini Edition—Last Call, designed by Sean Phillips (IDW)

Tori Amos: Little Earthquakes, The Graphic Album, designed by Lauryn Ipsum (Z2)

Best Webcomic

Deeply Dave, by Grover, http://www.deeplydave.com/

Delilah Dirk: Practical Defence Against Piracy, by Tony Cliff, https://www.delilahdirk.com/dd4/dd4-p46.html

Lore Olympus, by Rachel Smythe (WEBTOON), https://www.webtoons.com/en/romance/lore-olympus/list?title_no=1320&page=5

The Mannamong, by Michael Adam Lengyel, https://mannamong.com/episode-1/

Spores, by Joshua Barkman, https://falseknees.com/22ink1.html

Best Digital Comic

All Princesses Die Before Dawn, by Quentin Zuttion, translation by M. B. Valente (Europe Comics)

Barnstormers, by Scott Snyder and Tula Lotay (Comixology Originals)

Behind the Curtain, by Sara del Giudice, translation by M. B. Valente (Europe Comics)

Ripple Effects, by Jordan Hart, Bruno Chiroleu, Justin Harder, and Shane Kadlecik (Fanbase Press)

Sixty Years in Winter, by Ingrid Chabbert and Aimée de Jongh, translation by Matt Madden (Europe Comics)

[lotuslandcomics]

Beyond DC and Marvel, Lotusland Comics covers the best in independent comics from Ahoy to Z2

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Frathouse Boxboy - Alex finds out that Cam didn’t just cut Zee’s hair that one time

Z2, Alex and Cam belong to @deluxewhump (Frathouse Boxboy series).

Z2 sits shaking on the bed and waits. Alex told him to sit and wait, even though Z2 is staining the sheets with slimy remains of the garbage he was dumped in out there, behind the house. Cold, dirty water drips from his clothes and spreads out on the soft fabric of Alex's bed. It's fine, Z2 promises himself, he'll wash everything as soon as Alex lets him. 

He doesn't know what the other boy is doing. Alex disappeared into the bathroom earlier and there's only been the sound of running water coming from there since then. Just as he wonders again what Alex could be doing, the latter reappears in the doorway and walks to the bed.

"Are you still cold?"

Z2 would have lied no, but Alex likes when he says the truth and he's never been punished for saying it in front of him. So Z2 says: "Less than before."

Alex nods and pulls him up by the hand to guide him outside. Z2 notes that the light in the hallway makes the other boy’s blond hair shine prettily just before Alex nudges him inside the bathroom. Z2 steps in and his gaze quickly roams around the room- a habit, to assess what he needs to do and the potential danger he might have been thrust in- and his heart drops when he sees the water peacefully rippling in the tub. He stops dead in his tracks.

Alex bumps into the taller boy because of the sudden halt and the impact against his back makes Z2 cringe away from the full tub. Alex is confused at first as to why Z2′s hand jerked out of his own so brutally, and then his blue eyes widen when he sees the look of utter betrayal on Z2's face.

"Zee...?" He sounds confused. "What's wrong?"

"Please," pleads Z2. His voice comes out in a whisper, his throat is tight. Blood thrums in his ears.

He's scared, he can't believe Alex would do this to him, but Z2 knows it's stupid to feel so shocked when he's only ever been just a boxboy. He must have deserved this. He frantically tries to remember at what point he disappointed his Masters enough to warrant this punishment. Maybe Alex is mad that Z2 didn't tell him the whole truth about what happened the time Cam shaved his hair. He shouldn't have lied.

"What's going on?" Alex reaches out for him and it makes Z2 flinch away. His wet foot slides on the pristine ceramic floor of the bathroom and he barely manages to catch himself on the side of the tub.

When Z2 realizes what he's holding onto, he immediately braces his arms against it. Alex is shorter than Cameron and he's alone, so Z2 has more chances of resisting hands pressing down on his nape and shoulders, but he knows that in the end he'd have to let it happen. He'd be able to resist, but never for long. The steam coming up from the bath caresses his face and it makes his skin crawl. The sound of running water is too loud in his ears. He can already feel the water surging up his nose and throat, burning his sinuses, filling up his aching lungs. He already wants to cough and hack. Z2 is scared.

"No," Z2 chokes out. "Alex, I'm sorry for not telling you, please don't make me..."

"Not telling me what?" Alex crouches next to him but doesn't try to touch him again. "Zee, what?"

"I- I didn't tell you, I'm sorry." Z2's voice wobbles, but he tries to regain control of himself. It'll only anger his Master if he continues to blubber like a pitiful child. "I didn't tell you everything that happened because I, it was already difficult to tell you that Cam cut my hair, and I don't know, I just didn't. I know I should have. I promise, I didn't mean to lie to you. I'm sorry, Alex. I'm sorry."

"Zee." There's something sharp in Alex's voice that makes Z2's belly flip. "What did Cameron do to you?"

Alex wants an answer and he wants it now. Z2 knows he made a mistake trying to keep things from him, he knows he should just get it over with as fast as he can and tell Alex what he wants to know. Z2 knows the price for making a Master wait, and he doesn't want to suffer, but the words won't come out so easily. "I- He took me by the neck. He... He pushed on it, and- and-" He falters, and then he flinches, knowing he's going to get hit for taking so long to speak. Nothing comes. Z2's eyes cautiously crack open and he peers up at Alex. Alex doesn't look mad. He's waiting.

"He pushed me down with another boy's help," Z2 continues in a faint voice. "They held my head down. Underwater. I..." He bunches up his pants with his fists. "I thought I was going to die. I thought- I thought I was going to drown. I couldn't," his voice wavers again, "I couldn't breathe. I was scared. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Alex, I'm sorry, I know I should have. Please don't do that to me again. I promise I'll be good, I promise I'll always tell you the truth."

Alex's expression was getting stormy but when Z2 starts apologizing and pleading again, his face falls and he quickly wraps his arms around Z2's back and pulls him close. "Hey, hey, calm down, I didn't know it would scare you like that. I'm not going to hurt you, okay? The bath was just to warm you up."

"I'm sorry," says Z2 in a small voice. Remembering what Cam did to him makes him want to cry even more. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I know, but it's fine, I promise. I'm not mad at you for that. I'm not mad at you at all." Z2 flinches when he feels a hand settle atop his short hair but relaxes when Alex says: "It's okay, Zee. It's okay."

The hand starts gently petting the back of his head and Z2 realizes that the reason Alex's voice is so soft is because he has been crying. His breath is shaky and his face is soaked. He's still shivering even though he's not cold anymore and he doesn't understand why, and he suddenly feels very tired. Z2 finally understands that he's safe, that Alex never meant him any harm. He buries his face in the warm crook of Alex's shoulder and sobs when he can't keep pretending any longer that nothing happened in the bathroom back then.

/!\ Please proceed with caution if you want to explore the Boxboy Universe as it features trafficking/slavery, and so often abuse, nonconsensual acts and institutionalized/pet whumpees. 

N.B: If anyone is interested, I could also post the story of what exactly happened to Z2 before Alex brought him to the bedroom for a bath!

[alexsrandomramblings]

Welp, there's now this weirdly elaborate assassin droid wandering around Hutta.

[whumptywhumpdump]

"He's a bad seed, he's a horrible seed. He's one of the worst seeds I've ever met"

Based on this post by @deluxewhump here's Alex talking to JD about Cam lol

[deluxewhump]

Ohhh my goodness!!!!! Babies! this is amazing thank you!! Ahhh!!!!! 😍👏🤗

Since I’m starting to run low on paper I tried drawing completely digitally for the first time and just couldn’t resist do draw @deluxewhump​ s cute Zee and Alex. The Teddy scene was just: heart squeeze <3

[downthetubes]

In Review: Madi - Once Upon A Time In The Future

In Review: Madi – Once Upon A Time In The Future

Review by Luke Williams Written by Duncan Jones & Alex De Campi Drawn and Coloured by Dylan Teague, Adam Brown, Duncan Fegredo, Jacob Phillips, LRNZ, Ed Ocańa & Raúl Arnáiz, André Araújo, Chris O’Halloran, Simon Bisley, Rosemary Valero-O’Connell, Kelly Fitzpatrick, Tonci Zonjic, Skylar Patridge, Marissa Louise, Pia Guerra, Matt Wilson, James Stokoe, R.M. Guéra, Giulia Brusco, Chris Weston,…

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Searching for Answers: Alex and Jake the Shelter Guy

CW: Pet whump as a setting (Box Boy universe). References to dehumanization, brief vague reference to torture and noncon. If you’ve ever read @deluxewhump‘s excellent work (if you haven’t, you should be), you’ll see a very familiar face.

Jake takes naps between classes.

He spends three days a week at school taking 18 credit hours, in class from 8 in the morning until 10:30 at night. Then he heads to Nat’s place and does the overnight-house-worker thing, giving the rescues a sense of security knowing somebody familiar and safe is there if they have bad dreams or need help. The other four days a week he works with Natalie Yoder and Dr. Masood, learning about the rescues and how to help them.

It sounds exciting, being a college student secretly part of an underground liberation movement, but mostly it’s just exhausting.

He’s going to graduate with a degree in public health and a double-minor in communications and philosophy. It looks stupid, on the surface, he guesses, but he’s got a plan. Advocacy for runaways and human pets, working towards getting this country to a place to consider a full legal liberation and adjustment period for every person trapped in the system. 

Public health, so he can stand as an advocate with the degree to back up his hands-on experience and knowledge. Communications, to make him a better advocate by giving him the tools to understand how to utilize the media to change the way human pets are seen. Philosophy, to give him the skills to dig deeply into the thought processes around human pet ownership. 

The movement’s got more than 75 years of entrenched prejudice to undo. One day, he’s one hundred percent certain, pet ownership is going to be abolished as the fucking crime against humanity it really is. 

Jake wants to be a part of the group that finally makes it happen. 

The only problem is that he’s set himself an impossible schedule, and he’s so tired some days it’s all he can do to stay awake through his classes. He sleeps like four hours a night, and one day that’s going to catch up to him in a big way, but for now… he naps on benches and in courtyards, naps in the teacher’s lounge in the English department and behind a bunch of bookshelves in the philosophy hallway. 

It’s nice, except for when some asshole decides not to let him.

“Hey, uh, you’re… Jake Stanton, right?”

Jake groans, rubbing at his temple as he sits back and rests his back against the crumbling old brick wall of the oldest building on campus. He squints up at the fucking frat boy looking down at him. Not that Jake’s ever seen him before, but it’s easy to tell one of the fratbrats when you see them. 

He’s got the look - super clean-cut, blond hair and blue eyes, he’s even got a square jaw. Maybe not as musclebound as some of the other ones, but he’s still unmistakable. He looks kind of familiar, too, but that’s kind of the problem with frat guys. They mostly dress enough alike that it’s kind of hard to tell if he’s had a class with them or just had a class with one of their brothers. 

The guy looks nervous as hell. 

“Yeah, I’m Jake. Do I know you?”

“Uh, probably… prob’ly you do.” The frat guy shifts uneasily, one hand gripped tightly onto the backpack slung over one shoulder, a couple of textbooks under the other arm. “I’m Alex. We’re both minoring in, uh, philosophy, I think?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jake pushes back a yawn, just barely covering it with one hand. “Yeah, okay. I thought you looked familiar. What can I do for you? I’m sorry in advance if you wanted help with the essay thing, I haven’t even started on it, I’ve been busy with work.”

Nat’s newest charge had nonstop fucking nightmares from training, night after night. Jake had barely gotten a wink of sleep. 

“No, that’s okay, I, uh-... actually I’d be good to help you, if you need it. I finished mine, ran it by our-... my buddy last night.” Jake blinks, squinting again. He could swear Alex the Frat Guy is blushing. “Um. I just. I heard from, from some people that you’re… that you… know stuff.” Alex’s voice drops, into something just above a whisper. “About, uh, you know. Pets. Box Boys.”

 Jake stiffens, as his chest goes a little cold. “Who told you that?” He doesn’t talk about it much - being openly part of the pet lib movement isn’t exactly dangerous, but nobody talks pet liberation in polite company. 

 “Um. This girl I know. Meghan Jensen-” Alex pronounces the h, just a little, Meg-hen, and Jake can’t quite keep himself from smiling. “-she’s in a sorority… we kind of partner with sometimes… she said she heard from her twin sister Hannah who’s into some, like, punk underground lib shit… that you were, um. Someone I could talk to. For advice.”

Jake nods, slowly, giving himself time to process the words. He knows who Hannah Jensen is, he’s seen her at some of the group meetings and protests. He knows she has a twin who’s in a sorority, too. If this Alex guy is fucking with him, he did way too much research first. “Yeah, okay. Not out here, though, all right?”

Alex nods, expression going solemn and uncertain. “We can’t, like… get arrested just for talking about it, can we? I definitely can’t have that on my, like, record.”

Jake wants to laugh, but then he sees that the guy’s serious. Probably all he’s seen is the company propaganda shit about theft of property and consent and everything. It’s fake enough that no millenial or Gen Z person’s going to fall for it, but it’s still basically everywhere you look. Hard to make too many inroads against everyone’s assumptions about the system without someone who knows how to work it.

Hence - public health, communications, and philosophy.

“No, we won’t get arrested for talking. But someone might follow me home.” Jake makes his voice light and joking, even though it’s a genuine concern, and pushes himself to his feet. He’s actually a little taller than Alex, and more muscled-up, too.

“I just… need help. With, um. Someone I know.”

Jake blinks, thrown off-guard. “Someone specific?” Then it clicks, and he groans. “Shit. You’re with the frat, aren’t you? I’ve heard of you guys, you’ve got the guy going into the NFL. You’re one of those assholes that bought one-”

“Look, it seemed like… I didn’t really think about it, okay?” Alex’s face is even redder now, but he looks half-miserable with it, embarrassed and ashamed. Like Jake had caught him dealing drugs at an elementary school playground. “He’s… I just wanted to ask you some stuff about things I’ve noticed about him… and about Box Boys, and…”

“Why don’t you call the fucking company, Alex? They come with a number on their fucking brochure.” Jake’s voice goes dark, and he sees Alex bristle defensively. “Right there on the back, when you buy a human being. Customer service for your personal slave.”

“Hey, back the fuck off.” Alex’s eyes narrow, and he moves closer into Jake’s space, glaring at him. “Look, we went in on the whole thing together, and now I’ve gotten to know him, and I just-... I’m, um. I’m worried, and… I needed someone to talk to.”

Jake wants to push back again, to push harder. To ask Alex what the fuck he was thinking, being part of a group buying a human being. If he thought it’d be funny, or if he just cracked under peer pressure. But it won’t help, and instead he takes a deep breath, remembering Nat’s words. One step, one conversation, one person at a time. We can change the story, but you have to change minds and hearts, first. “... yeah, okay. Okay, I get it. Yeah. I can talk to you. I’m sorry, I just-”

“No, I get it,” Alex says, quickly, backing up again. “I get it. I probably look like a total rat-bastard to you.”

“No… not really. But if you’re, uh. Look, there’s a place I meet people sometimes to talk about this. I’ll buy you a drink and we’ll talk there.”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds cool.”

“What’s your major, anyway?” Jake asks, sliding his own backpack on, eyes scanning over the campus. He’s met so many rescues who should be walking around college like this, safe and easy and free. He’s met a few that he’s pretty sure were walking around places like this, before WRU picked them up. “I feel like you were really good at arguing in Intro to Philosophy. So… something public-speaking-focused, right?”

“Uh, Poli Sci,” Alex says, falling into step beside him as Jake makes his way down the dirt path made by tens of thousands of students over the course of decades simply choosing to ignore the paved sidewalks and make their own way.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“What? Why do you say that?”

“You look like a baby politician, and you’re good at arguing. What else would you be here for?” Alex snorts, hunching his shoulders a little defensively as his sneaker scrapes along the ground, and Jake sighs. “Sorry, man. I didn’t really mean that as an insult. I’m just tired as shit and everything’s been coming out the wrong way today. It really has not been my day.”

There’s a headache pounding behind his eyes, the fuzzy-headed exhaustion that could easily take him over. But he tells himself the rescues - and the Box Boys and Box Babes still in captivity - have it so much worse than he does.

That gives him a little more energy to keep walking.

“No, it’s okay. If I want to go into politics I should probably look like a politician, right?” Alex flashes him a hint of a smile, sidelong, and Jake relaxes. Okay, Alex the Frat Guy’s not as bad as he thought he’d be.

They end up chatting pretty amicably about professors and TAs they liked and hated in their shared philosophy courses, homework, and Alex laughs at Jake’s surprise, finding out that only a few of his frat brothers are even in sports as part of their long-term goal. Alex mentions a ‘Zee’ a few times, and eventually Jake realizes he’s talking about the Box Boy his frat bought, not just another frat brother or friend. 

He doesn’t talk about the Box Boy like he’s just an object to be owned. Jake wonders why he went in on the purchase at all. Probably, he decides, peer pressure. Everyone does stupid shit because of peer pressure. Jake smoked for a while in high school. His friend Krista got the worst haircut Jake had ever seen. Maybe Alex’s stupid peer pressure thing was buying a fucking person. 

Nope. He has to stop being so bitter about it. It’s just part of being in a subculture - and like it or not, being against pet ownership is way more of a minority, right now, than being either neutral or in favor of it.

If he carries all this anger back to the shelter tonight, the rescues will pick up on the tension, on his unhappiness. They’re all experts at reading the slightest negative change in mood, and while not all of them panic, they will all start trying to fix it in whatever way they understand. Jake definitely doesn’t have the energy to deal with a handful of recovering pets trying to clean or cook or screw their way out of danger. 

He walks Alex to the Student Center while the conversation is still safely focused on surface level stuff, grabbing himself and and Alex both iced coffees before he heads downstairs. Alex seems like he knows every third person they see. Jake can’t decide if that’s some weird politician-to-be gladhanding, or if he genuinely just has a really good memory for faces and names. 

He has to stop being so bitter about politics, too - not everyone’s going to be Senator Carlotta Grant, after all. Maybe Alex will be one of the good guys, for real. 

Maybe Jake can help nudge him that direction, if he wasn’t already headed that way.

The basement has a bunch of space for students, too, but Jake can count on his hands the amount of people he’s ever seen here over the course of his entire collegiate career. There’s a small booth where a bored girl with long black hair is ostensibly selling jewelry and pottery, a small open area with a piano that has a thin film of dust, and Jake leads an increasingly nervous Alex all the way to the back, where a series of hard wooden booths are built into the walls around an open hardwood floor. It’s dim down here, and dark as hell. Jake likes to call it the Speakeasy - to himself, at least. That’s what it reminds him of, speakeasies in Hollywood movies.

“I’ve never been down here,” Alex says, slightly hushed. “I didn’t even know this existed.”

“Yeah, it’s like… everyone just collectively decides to ignore this part of the Student Center. Works for me. We have meetings down here sometimes. Plus, the fact that nobody knows about it means nobody is gonna give us a hard time about whatever you’re going to tell me.” 

Jake slides into a booth and Alex sits across from him, the both of them slipping their backpacks off. It feels sort of hilariously surreal, like they’re in a movie about spies or the only two people who know the truth at the beginning of a zombie movie. 

Alex pulls out his cell phone, nervously fiddling with it and staring down. The silence draws slowly out until Jake finally leans over. Alex’s blue eyes jump up to his. “Look. The answer is yes, I, uh. I do some stuff with pet lib groups now and then. If you’re looking for info on, like, how to donate and shit, I’ve got some papers in my backpack with stuff you can do to help the movement… we could really use some clothing donations and, like, canned food and stuff right now-”

“No, um. I mean, yeah, I’ll… I’ll ask around and see if any of the guys have clothes they don’t need, but… that’s not… what I want to ask about.”

Jake frowns, then asks, softly, “Are you looking to help him get out of the system? Your Box Boy, at your frat house?”

There’s a pause. Alex goes wide-eyed, like he hadn’t even thought of it. “No! I mean. Not, um. I don’t think he’d want to… I just wanted to… to ask. Some stuff. About, um. How to help him act more like, uh, like a person. Like, if I take him out or whatever.”

Jake’s headache is getting worse.

“You want me to give you advice on how to train him?” He can’t stop the jagged edge that creeps into his voice. “So that you can, what-... hide what he is and take your pet around without having to answer any questions about it and face up to what you did-”

“Holy shit, dude,” Alex says, sitting back and setting his phone slowly down. “You don’t need to get so mad about it. I didn’t mean-”

“Well, what did you mean? Look, I do a lot of work with the kinds of people who get bought. I’m sorry if that freaks you out or something, but… you should see the damage this whole system does, you know?”

Alex is quiet, for a long time, just staring at him. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking - he’s already got that way of looking serious and thoughtful without actually giving anything away. Then, quietly, he says, “Zee has nightmares.”

“You call him Zee?”

“Yeah, uh. I mean, technically Z2, it’s part of his, um, official-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jake sips his iced coffee and watches Alex hurriedly pick his up and sip, too, like he’d forgotten it was there. To Jake at least it seemed like a lifeline, a way to hold back the urge he has to grab this guy by the shoulders and shake him. “They make them answer to numbers. Dehumanization is, like, the first step of what they do.”

Alex’s face twists, like he’s tasted something awful, and he looks away. “Right. So, anyway, we all kind of decided on Z2. But… I like Zee better. It seems like it’s short for, for a real name, maybe. Like I could call him that in public and nobody, nobody would know-”

“That you own him?”

“No.” Alex sits up straighter. “No, not exactly. I figure it’d make it easier for him. I don’t-... I don’t really care what people think about me-”

“If you’re going into politics, you’re definitely going to care what people think of you.”

“Look, man, let me finish a sentence, okay? Just, like,  single sentence?” Alex pauses, and waits, and Jake finally sits back and sips his drink again and nods, silently. Alex sighs. “Thanks. I just meant that if I call him Zee, people will talk to him like he’s a regular guy. And I think he deserves it, to be able to go out and just, like, talk to people and be normal. That’s all I meant. But, this is… you, um. You just said you work with them, right? With, um. The… ones who get away? Get freed, or whatever?”

“They don’t get freed,” Jake says flatly. “That’s a myth. They run away or they stay kept.”

“... right.” Alex frowns, looking down at his coffee again, rubbing his fingers over the condensation building up along the clear plastic. “You said you work with them? So, um. I just. I want to know how to make things better for Zee, while he lives with us.”

“Belongs to you.”

Alex groans, throwing his hands up in the air. “Fine! What is it with you, dude? I’m trying to make Zee’s life better. I can’t just, like, make him not a Box Boy. One of my brothers technically has all his paperwork, we all went in on him together, he belongs to the whole fucking frat. If it was up to me and Dom, we’d free him in a heartbeat, okay? But it’s not up to us. And I can’t figure out how to make things better for him unless I know where to even start.” 

There’s real anguish in his voice, now. Actual, genuine guilt and remorse. Jake closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, calms the anger that he feels buzzing along all his nerves. It’s not Alex’s fault. He’s part of a system just like everybody else. Born into it, raised in it, no need to question or even think it through, until something hits him where he lives. 

Literally, in this case.

A lot of people are paid a lot of money to make sure people like Alex don’t ask questions, don’t try to make anything different or better. A lot of people work very hard to put out marketing materials and buy TV ads and write speeches for the President all about how great and above-board and one hundred percent normal it all is. 

And people like Jake are the nutjobs standing on a streetcorner wearing a sandwich board.

“Yeah,” Jake says. Just something to fill the silence, while he keeps his breathing slow and even, takes another drink. “Look, can I… can I say something?”

“Sure. I haven’t been insulted enough today, have at it.” Alex slumps back, looking almost morose, like a kid tired of being yelled at for listening to his music too loud. 

“I”m not going to insult you. Uh, anymore. I just wanted to say… I’m sorry. It’s… I live it, every single day, so it’s kind of hard to remember not everybody does. I’ll help you out with some advice, but… but I’m really going to want you to set him free for us to help him, you know? Or people like us, anyway. Just… know that any advice I give you’s going to come from that direction, okay?”

Alex swallows, drawing little nonsense symbols on the tabletop with one finger, as he thinks. “... okay. Yeah.”

“Good. So you said he has nightmares?” He pauses long enough for Alex to nod. “Okay. That’s a good starting place. They all have nightmares. Fucking all of them. Got it? And I bet if you wake him up, he doesn’t even know what he was dreaming about, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Or he won’t tell me, anyway. He tried once, but he got a really bad headache and had to take some, like, Advil…”

“Which, I’m going to guess, didn’t do shit to help. It’s not a headache from actual, like, nerves… it’s a conditioning thing.”

“... the fuck is conditioning?”

Jake opens his mouth, closes it again. Then he turns and digs into his backpack, pulling out a worn, wrinkled old bit of printer paper carefully folded into a three-sided brochure. WRU and the companies have the good stuff. Nat just prints this stuff out on her home computer, and Jake and the rescues sit up folding them until they look - mostly - presentable for the public. He slides it across the table, and Alex picks it up, looking it over. There’s an old photo on the front of a woman who died back in the 90’s with two rescues standing in front of her, her hands on their shoulders, everyone smiling. It’s the best picture they have. 

Nobody wants to have their photo printed, not anymore. Not since people started disappearing, sometimes. 

“Read this. It’s got a little bit in it about navigating that stuff. Conditioning is like brainwashing, a little bit. It’s how they teach them to act the way they do. Like… you’ve probably noticed he can’t really say no to any chore you tell him to do, right?”

Alex swallows, hard enough for Jake to notice, and nods. He’s still got the brochure unfolded in his hands, but he looks up slowly, meeting Jake’s eyes. “Yeah. And he never gets mad, either. He just… does whatever we tell him. Even if they, uh, sometimes the others… aren’t super nice to him. And he just… takes it.”

“Right. His nightmares are probably about the reason he just sits there and takes it, Alex. If you push him - if you give him orders he can’t handle, or you tell him to do something that hurts him or he’s terrified of it or, like…” A thought flashes through Jake’s mind, one that’s so dark even he doesn’t think the frat boys would be that kind of evil, and he dismisses it. “... even if you tell him to go jump out a window, or something… he might protest or cry, but if you keep going… he’ll do it. Because, deep down, that’s all he can do anymore. Got that?”

Some of the blood has drained from Alex’s face. “And he has nightmares about, about being… taught? To do whatever we say?”

“Yeah. Look, I’m going to sound fucking crazy, I get it. But… please just trust me. I see rescues - that’s what we call the ones we take care of - every day. They all have nightmares. They all do whatever you tell them to. Some of them do worse than that. I can help you with some exercises, some therapy stuff, that we do to help calm their nightmares down. But I can’t do anything that’ll really, really help, unless you let me talk to him. Or if you get him out of that frat house.”

“I can’t do that. He doesn’t even belong to me, he belongs to all of us.” Alex’s face twists again, but Jake is more focused on the fact that Alex didn’t protest the idea of freeing the boy at all. Only argued that it would be difficult. That Jake could work with. “Technically he belongs to my frat brother, and Cam’s… um.” Alex is silent for a second, and then asks, “What do I do if someone else, like… pushes him in ways he’s not supposed to be? Like… that don’t go along with what he’s, um, what his… category or whatever is?”

“What?” At first, Jake’s confused.

Then he realizes what Alex is actually asking, and feels the anger under his skin all over again. 

Closing his eyes isn’t enough this time. He thinks about the rescues he’s seen come through, all of them used in different, equally horrible ways. All of them absolutely, completely, utterly unable to even begin to refuse it. “Is it just one guy, or are there more?”

He’s surprised to hear his own voice come out soft, and even. He doesn’t even sound angry. Just mildly annoyed.

Underneath that, he’s ready to start throwing punches. This is why he doesn’t talk about this stuff at school - he’s going to miss his classes today, unable to handle it being here, too, when normally he keeps the two halves of his life separate so he can keep himself from burning out too soon. No, he’ll skip class and go straight to the shelter tonight. Get to bed earlier than usual, if the rescues are feeling good. 

“Just one… I think. I mean, I hope just the one. We, uh, we talked about it with him, and I’m sure… I’m sure it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah, it will. Give someone total power over another human life and they’ll go fucknuts destroying it.”

“We’re trying to keep them apart, but… we can’t always be there. Which is why I thought, um, if I could get him to pass for, like, just another person he could maybe just go around with us more and not be in the house when we’re not…” 

“Good start. I’ve got… hold on.” He digs another piece of paper out and lays it out on the table. “This one’s about ways to talk to your rescue about consent. It’s… kind of an awkward conversation and he won’t understand it. But… if you just keep talking, it’ll help him feel better standing up for himself.”

“Why doesn’t he understand cuh-... uh… consent?” Alex’s face was red again. “I mean. He wants… so much attention, and he seems like he’s used to being, like, hugged or kept around people, like he wants it. From Dom and me, at least.”

Jake swallows, trying to decide how much to tell him. How far to take this conversation. He pulls another paper, this one four sheets stapled together front and back, and lays it down on the table, too. “Have you ever been locked in a room without human contact for months on end, except to be hurt? The only good thing they get is dehumanizing shit like that - being petted, or touched against their will. It’s normalized. He doesn’t know he shouldn’t want it, anymore. And he’ll be terrified and upset if you stop.”

Alex looks down at the paper, shaking his head “Do you… do you have a paper for everything?”

“Bet your ass I do. That one’s on training methods. Turn to page two. It’ll answer your question. I have stuff in here to answer all your questions, and I have-... there’s a, uh. A friend of mine… I could bring to talk to you, if you’re interested. A rescue who’s… mostly… better now. He’s our IT guy. He’s been through all the counseling, and he remembers training and all of it. He can tell you what your, uh. What Zee has gone through. Ways to help him break it. But… that’s only if you want. I get that I’m throwing a lot at you. And I get that it probably seems crazy-”

“No, it doesn’t. Really.” Alex leans over, looking at him earnestly, one hand over the papers Jake has set down on the table between them. “Look, before I met Zee, I would maybe have thought… it was all exaggerated, but… but I’ve listened to him when he sleeps. He sounds so… terrified. And he’s so grateful for… everything. Anything nice, literally the smallest nice things… I don’t think you’re crazy, I think… think like, maybe… maybe I need to try and help him get out of our house before I graduate, I just have no idea where to start.”

“I can give you an address,” Jake says, softly.

“Uh… no. I don’t think he’d… want to do that.”

“Not yet. But it’s what a lot of them do, when they’re ready.”

“No, I get that, but I just. Um. I don’t think I’d… want him to be, like, homeless? Just without anybody? That seems really… awful, actually.”

“Does it?” Jake raises an eyebrow. “Does it seem worse than, I don’t know, cleaning frat guy toilets? Or whatever awful shit you’re almost telling me about your frat brother? Does he even have a bed?”

Alex looks back out into the dim basement corner, tapping his fingers on the table. His discomfort is basically a physical weight around him in the air. “No. He, uh. There’s this… closet, or he stays with Dom or me…”

“Yeah. So. Does that seem better than an address where I can guarantee a bed?”

“No… it doesn’t… I guess.” Alex glances down at his coffee, apparently surprised to discover he’s been drinking it the whole time and it’s all gone. He takes the lid off and picks out a piece of ice, crunching it between his teeth. The sound is enormously loud in the quiet, empty space. “I just feel like… we care about Zee. I think I can do better than, um, whatever you’re suggesting. I just… need your help, to do better. He… deserves better.”

“Yeah. He does. They all do.”

Alex takes a deep breath and turns back to him, folding his hands together on the table, looking for all the world like the senator or congressman or whatever he’s planning to maybe one day be. He leans slowly over and looks Jake right in the eyes “I want all your papers from your bag. Just… the whole library. I don’t want to, to send him away. I think he’d… it’d hurt him, so badly. He really likes us, and we… we’re trying. But I want to know how to do better.”

Jake stares right back. He can’t tell if Alex really means it, or not, but he sounds like he means it. Finally, he turns and digs another stack of papers out, maybe a hundred different pages all total. He always keeps some on him, just in case, but nobody ever really asks. He lets the stack fall a couple of inches in front of Alex, watching his eyes widen as he stares.

“There it is,” Jake says. “The whole damn library. All the reading you could ever want on why the pet system is bullshit, what they’re doing to make you think it’s okay, and how to help someone who’s been trapped in it. If you and, uh, your frat brother, or-... or Zee wants to meet with my friend Nine, I can introduce you. Only when you’re ready. I’m on campus Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday basically all day. I can talk to you whenever. My number’s… hold on.” He grabs another piece of paper out and scribbles his number down, hands that over, too. “Call me if you want to talk more, on those three days. The rest of the time I work with the rescues, and I’m not gonna answer my phone unless someone died or you’re my dad.”

Alex nods, and shoves the whole pile of papers into his own backpack, zipping it carefully up. “Thanks. Hey, can I ask you something?”

Jake lets out a sigh. He knows what the question is going to be, too. It’s the same question, every time, and they always save it for the end of the conversation. “Yeah, go for it.”

Alex pauses, then asks, “Is it true you know Vincent Shield?”

Jake huffs a little bitter laughter. They always ask, every single time. 

“Yeah, I do. And he’s a dick.”

[thecomicon]

Z2 Comics Bring Graham Coxon's 'Superstate' To Comics - Soundtracking The Graphic Novel

Z2 Comics Bring Graham Coxon’s ‘Superstate’ To Comics – Soundtracking The Graphic Novel

The new Graham Coxon album, ‘Superstate’, becomes a graphic novel and original new soundtrack experience. (more…)

[deluxewhump]

Gameday

Early/middle-ish timeline Z2. Zee is taken to a football game and left out in extreme heat.

CW: BBU, deliberate neglect, collared, tied, overheating, heat exhaustion, alcohol, complicit caretaker

It wasn’t until Sunday that Alex would learn all the details of what happened the previous afternoon. He’d been with Claire all day on Saturday, until he left to go to the game. It was August— the start of football season. Fall classes started Monday, and he’d had Claire on his mind lately. He hadn’t seen much of her over the summer, but she seemed as eager to meet back up as he was.

Later, he told himself that was why Zee hadn’t been on his mind at all that day. It didn’t make him feel better.

He didn’t notice that Zee wasn’t there when he stopped off for a change of clothes at the house. He decided to leave his car and Uber, giving him free rein to drink.

He got to the stadium twenty minutes before the game was set to start, the Panthers versus New Sovereignty. It was nearing ninety eight degrees without so much as a gentle breeze to alleviate the oppressive heat. The sun beat down on his head the moment he stepped out of the car, and he could feel a sheen of sweat on his face only a few steps later.

Outside the stadium was a large fountain that was dyed green every St Patrick’s day. Around it, grassy squares were sectioned off with sidewalks. Despite kickoff approaching, there were still throngs of people walking towards the entrance, in line for the various food trucks, and tailgating near their vehicles or under canopy tents.

Paul had texted him that they’d be under one such tent until gametime, and gave him vague directions to find it. He almost walked right by it, but recognized Tyler’s matching set of hot pink camping chairs that usually sat outside on the back porch. It looked like everyone had already cleared out for the game, except some guy he didn’t recognize who was sitting directly next to a bluetooth speaker, beer in hand. He looked wasted, sunglasses askew on his head and his face red from the inescapable heat of the afternoon.

“They head in?” Alex asked him, gesturing to the stadium. 

The guy nodded along to the music, but more exaggeratedly so, as a yes to his question. He wouldn’t have seen Zee at all if he hadn’t stopped to open one of the coolers and grab a beer. When he did, he dropped it right back into the cooler. That it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been was only due to the fact that he’d arrived when he had. Another hour or two and it would have been much worse.

“Shit,” he muttered, stepping outside the canopied shade and into the direct heat again. He bent to his knees beside Zee.

Zee flinched away.

“Hey,” Alex said. “It’s me. It’s just me.”

Recognition filled not only Zee’s eyes but his entire posture. He was sitting on the ground, in the sun, wearing long pants, a thick jersey, and a football helmet of all things. Alex pried it off, noticing how his hair was as drenched as if he’d just stepped out of a shower and how red his face was. He had on his thick collar, and a slim cord of climbing rope was tied from the ring to a stake in the ground.

He tried to pull the stake but it didn’t budge. He gave that up quickly, going instead for the knots around the collar. They were tight, and his fingers were slick from the drink he’d taken out of the cooler. He wiped them on his pants and tried again, leaning in and using his teeth to start loosening the knot. He was beginning to wonder if by some miracle he’d find a knife anywhere when it came loose, and he was able to untie it. The rope fell from the collar and he stood up, dragging Zee backwards under his arms into the shade of the tent. 

“What the hell is this?” he asked over his shoulder. The only other occupant of the tent was still drinking, still oblivious to everything but his music. He looked their way and shrugged innocently. 

Zee lay on his back as Alex reached into the cooler and pulled out a handful of ice. He opened Zee’s right hand and placed it inside, bringing it to his face for him. Zee got the idea and held it against his forehead, his cheeks, his neck. His whimper of relief made Alex’s stomach lurch with useless anger. He rummaged in the cooler for water, but found none. He opened a second one and dug through the ice with the same results. 

“Is there nothing but Coors goddam lite in here?” he asked the straggler, who leaned forward and pointed at a third cooler underneath a folding table. He opened it to the blessed sight of bottled water. After pulling Zee back to a sitting position he held it to his mouth to let him drink. Zee dropped the ice and grabbed at the bottle, squeezing it inelegantly so water went not only into his mouth but down his chin and the front of his shirt. Alex peeled the thick polyester jersey from his ribs and up over his head. Zee seemed glad to be rid of it, and leaned back against one of the coolers, half naked and breathing deep deliberate breaths.

"I couldn't get that knot untied," he said. "It was too tight."

He knew better than to ask Zee any questions. He’d likely not get much of an answer. After his first few admissions regarding Cam, he learned quickly that sharing details among the brothers resulted in arguments, and that discord always returned to him eventually, with him painted as some sort of snitch. 

“You’re okay,” he said instead. “You’re good now, Zee. It’s okay.”

Inside the stadium, the band began to play. The words of the announcers were too far to make out, but they echoed across the hot air. He picked an icecube off the grass and circled it over Zee’s face. Zee closed his eyes. 

“I guess it’s a good thing you’re still sweating,” he said, and Zee nodded as he took another swig of water. He let Alex feel his pulse with untrained fingers, unsure exactly what to look for but compelled to do it anyway. It felt fast. He got up and cast a glance around the tent. The remaining guy was probably too drunk for the game, and volunteered to stay behind with Zee and everyone’s belongings. Zee wasn’t much of a guard on his own if he was tethered to the grass outside the tent like a dog. Except if it was a dog, he thought bitterly, some passerby probably would’ve noticed and helped it by now. 

“Hey!” the would-be guard frowned as Alex began rummaging through belongings. 

“Shut the fuck up,” returned Alex.

After searching two bags of items that were no use to him, he pulled a handheld mechanical fan from a third. He returned to Zee and held it in front of his face, the tiny blades whirring and blowing his sweat-drenched hair with cool air. For the first time since he’d found him, Zee looked at him directly. A mixture of relief and something else was in his eyes. What that other thing was, Alex wasn’t sure. It might have been where were you? Or perhaps I told you so. Maybe he imagined it entirely, because with his next breath Zee thanked him so earnestly he found himself shushing him and getting a new piece of ice to run over his skin.

“There’s an ambulance by the entrance,” he said, and no sooner were the words out of his mouth than Zee was shaking his head weakly. Alex held the ice midair.

“I can ask them to look at you,” he insisted. “You don’t have to go anywhere with them.”

Still Zee shook his head. “M’okay,” he whispered. He took another swig of water. After second thought, he dumped the rest over the top of his head and closed his eyes. Alex kept the fan on him. 

“Do you feel sick?”

“Not now. Just hot.”

When Alex took out his phone to call another Uber, he noticed two missed calls from Paul, probably asking where he was. He had no doubt Paul was one of the ones in the tent who abandoned their boxboy in the heat to go inside. He ignored them, and chose the soonest available pickup. He couldn’t bring himself to put Zee back in the thick jersey he’d found him in, and told him to wait while he walked to a nearby vendors tent and bought him a cotton tshirt. He didn’t think Zee would appreciate being paraded through a crowded event shirtless with that thick collar locked around his neck, even just to get to the curb for the driver. He couldn’t say he would relish the attention, either.

In a crisp New Sovereigns tee, he walked dutifully beside Alex to meet their car. Alex opened the door and let him climb inside first before going into the backseat after him. Zee sat in the middle and slumped over into the far seat, his head pressing against the door. 

“Hey,” Alex muttered automatically to the driver. To his dismay, the driver looked in the rearview and turned around, beaming. 

“Alex!”

He recognized Alexander Katz from biology lab and forced his mouth into a friendly smile. In that class, Alex was Clair and Alexander was Katz. “You’re missing the game,” Alex said, automatically making casual conversation. It made the entire situation feel worse, somehow.

“Ah, I need a few extra bucks,” answered Alexander. “You’re gonna miss it too, though, by the looks of it.”

Yeah, boxboy duty. My friends left him tied to a stake in record-breaking heat. “My buddy’s drunk,” he lied. “I volunteered to take him back to the house.”

Alexander rolled his eyes knowingly. “Heard that,” he said, and consulted his side mirror before pulling out into the street. He had to stop for a throng of polo-wearing boys and their cowboy-booted counterparts to cross, headed for the stadium. Alex took the opportunity to check on Zee like one might check on an egregiously drunk friend. He was awake and breathing normally now, and Alex noticed he had pulled his new shirt up to hide his collar.

After fifteen minutes of slow gameday traffic and painful smalltalk with Alexander, the car arrived on their residential street near campus, only a mile and a half from the stadium.

Alexander reached back for a fistbump and offered a helping hand with his drunk buddy. Alex declined, saying he was still good enough to walk, just blacked out. Zee played his part, keeping his shirt lifted to hide the collar and looking like a wasted college student might as he stumbled out into Alex’s arm and let him guide him to the front steps. He dropped the shirt the moment Alexander was out of the driveway and stood up straighter, decidedly less drunk-looking. Alex felt more shame than gratitude that he’d played the part he was assigned so willingly. Even in the state he was in, after what he’d just been through. Just to save him some hypocritical sense of embarrassment.

The house was cool. The airconditioning was on, and fans spun lazily in the high ceilings. Zee headed straight for the shower, but Alex asked him to wait. He did so, staring stone faced at the floor as Alex took the stairs two at a time. He returned with his copy of the key he’d negotiated from Cameron, and unlocked the collar so it fell away from Zee’s sweaty neck. He rubbed at the indentation it left, but said nothing. 

“Go,” Alex nudged. With his permission, Zee continued to the downstairs bath and turned on the shower. 

He sat on the couch for a full five minutes with his elbows on his knees, staring at the muted television. The game they’d just left was on. He couldn’t help but watch for Dominic. 

Zee came out of the shower and sat on the sofa, on the opposite end, as far as he could have possibly sat from him. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Alex asked gently. 

“You saw it,” he said blamelessly. 

“Who tied you out like that?”

He was reluctant. “…Does it matter?”

Alex couldn’t look at him. If he pushed, Zee would tell him. But he was right. It didn’t matter who specifically. It was a group effort. He watched the Panther’s coach spat on the ground and make a frustrated hand gesture in the direction of the field. Not one quarter in and the home team was pulling far ahead, just as Alexander had predicted in the car. 

“I guess not. Where is Cameron?”

Zee shrugged. With both Alex and Dominic gone, Cameron was Zee’s last line of defense, as dubious as that was. It seemed to be working lately, as much as Alex hated to admit it. 

“You can catch most of the game if you go now.”

He forced himself to look at their boxie. He looked better now, if tired and a little sunburned on his forearms. At least that heavy jersey they’d had him in had protected him from more of that. “I’m not going to the game.”

“I’m fine now. Thank you.”

“I’m staying here, Zee. I don’t care about the game.”

They watched in silence as the camera panned the crowd. 

“Do you want to come with me tonight? I’m going to Claire’s house.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah. That’s why I asked.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t need to be babysat. Cam will be back soon.”

“That’s not why I offered. Claire likes you. I thought you might want a change of scenery tonight. I’d like you to come with me.”

Zee laid sideways on the sofa, much like he had in the back of the Uber. “Okay.”

Alex stood up. “You need some gatorade, or a snack or something.”

Since it wasn’t a question, Zee offered no reply. And as always when it came to Alex, no resistance.

[asarahworld]

Alex Meyers is hilarious.  He rips apart “plot holes” in movies/things that don’t necessarily make a ton of sense and he did videos both Z1 and Z2.  I highly reccomend checking his channel out.

[smashpages]

Z2 to publish ‘Jimmy Eat World: 555’

The new graphic novel based on one of the band’s music videos will arrive in May.

[lotuslandcomics]

"A relentless blistering action crime drama" REVIEW:★★★★☆ (4/5) 'Drive Like Hell' #1 by Rich Douek and Alex Cormack https://www.lotuslandcomics.com/2023/11/review-drive-like-hell-1-by-rich-douek.html

[lost-tanuki-tales]

Frathouse Boxboy - Z2 gets thrown in the trash

Z2, Tyler and Alex belong to @deluxewhump (Frathouse Boxboy series).

All the pledges present tonight have to wade in the big bin that was stolen off the streets but it's Z2 who has to stand a few feet away completely immobile so that they can aim and throw trash at him. It's a game, he was told. Whoever hits the target most often wins. There are open tin cans among the missiles and their edges are sharp with the lid gone. Z2 knows that dirty cuts can be dangerous and that's why he worries about those on his thigh, shoulder, and cheek. They sting. He'll have to clean them as soon as he can, before it's too late. Nighttime fell a while ago and the pledges can't see very well so a lot of the missiles land wayward. The competition stops eventually and he hears someone claim that the winner is someone called Arthur, but he doesn't really look for the winner's face because he's busy trying to clear gunk out of his eyes.

They're hosed down with cold water after that. The pledges scream and yell and curse but Z2 just takes it, as silently as he can, shoulders hiked up to his ears and eyes screwed shut. The water forces its way up his nose and it burns. It drips into his mouth when he tries to breathe with wet gasps, and he has to turn away to choke and cough but the stream follows him. Z2 tries his best to push down the memory that assails him. He's been ignoring what happened in the bathroom for a while but these familiar sensations make it harder to do. He reminds himself that he's fine, he's standing, no one is forcing his head into a tub, this water is cold. The hosing down lasts longer for him.

Z2 can't stop shivering now that it's over and he's standing in line with the others. His skin aches where the strong stream of water hit him. His clothes are dripping wet and he doesn't have a lot of fat on him to keep the warmth in his body. The cuts still sting but the feeling is distant, like his head is filled with wool. It's not so bad. If Z2 hadn't been there another pledge would have taken his place and they would've had the same little injuries. That's what he tells himself as he stands there, wondering what's going to happen now. He's so cold that even his thoughts are slowed down and muddled. He's still dirty, of course, the hosing down wasn't meant to actually clean them up. He doesn't think he'll be allowed to go back inside yet.

Z2 is right: they're asked to do push-ups next. They have to lie in the muddy grass where the dirty water has pooled and push their bodies up and down at an unreasonable pace that's even got the other guys grunting with exertion. Z2 can't keep up, of course, he can barely even last more than three slow and misshapen pumps. He's too thin and he hasn't eaten in too long. His airless lungs and the muscles in his arms burn from the quick exhaustion. He tries his best, strains to lift his stomach off the fresh ground but his arms finally give out for good and he lands wetly against his front. Immediately, heavy footsteps come closer to him.

He feels a big hand grab him by the collar and lift him up. Tyler crows in his ear: "Wimps get thrown out with the trash!"

Z2 realizes he's being carried to the big bin and is hit with the horrifying realization that Tyler is going to shut him in there and forbid him from getting out. Z2's breath catches in his throat when he remembers the box he was shipped in, the terrible acrid smell of his own sick, how he could barely breathe. He starts thrashing in the boy's grip.

"No! No! Wait, wait, not in there, please not in there!" His hands fly out and he tries to grab onto Tyler's wrist, he hangs onto it for dear life. "Please, Tyler!"

Tyler shakes him like an unruly stray cat and his slurred words sound annoyed. "Shut up."

Z2's hand slips but he scrabbles to regain that hold as the yawning bin draws closer. It's dark in there and he's hit by a wave of nauseating odors that make his chest heave. He strikes a foot out and pushes back against the side of the bin to resist getting thrown in there. He hears laughter from afar.

"Tyler!" Z2's voice is rising in pitch. "Tyler, please! Wait! No, please, I don't want to-"

"In you go!" singsongs Tyler, and he gives Z2 one final push.

There's not much Z2 can do but topple forward. His hands shoot out to grab onto the edge of the bin to hold himself up, to try and scramble back over to the outside. He can feel slimy, spongious things sliding against his calves and he retracts his legs in revulsion, but someone is forcefully prying his fingers away and suddenly there's nothing left to hold onto. Z2 tumbles to the bottom of the bin, something wet permeates his short hair. He quickly pushes himself up on his elbow and reaches towards the gray, cloud-laced night sky.

"Wait!"

The lid drops shut above his head and he's suddenly plunged in darkness amidst the stench of rotting food and waste. Something scrapes atop of the lid. It takes Z2 a full two seconds to fully grasp the terrifying situation he's trapped in, and then he starts hitting the walls of the bin with his fists and feet, pleading for someone to get him out of there. There's enough room to move around in but he can't stand straight up, he can't budge the weighted lid at all when his arms are already tired and trembling from their earlier exertion. It stinks, the walls are closing in on him, he's completely powerless to escape and he feels hot tears dripping down his cheeks.

It stinks and he's breathing too fast, he can't stop. His own panicked, wet breaths echo in his ears amidst the thunder of blood rushing to his head. He feels horribly nauseous and hot. It was like this in the box, he felt the same, and there was nothing he could do about it and there's nothing he can do about it now. Z2 is trapped and he's going to be sick. His shaking legs suddenly buckle beneath his weight and he doesn't see where he's landed but he thinks he's going to throw up right here in the dark, his stomach burns, bitter saliva pools in his mouth. Terror threatens to rip his mind to shreds.

He hears footsteps approaching and immediately rears up, hope pushing down the terrible nausea even for just a moment. Z2 knows that it's stupid to hope but he can't help it.

"Please! Please let me out!" he starts begging with renewed energy, "Please open the lid! Please let me out, I'll do anything you want me to, just don't leave me here, don't leave me in here please!"

"Zee?"

He almost falls over again from the sheer relief he feels upon hearing Alex call his name and the frantic words spill out of his mouth. "Alex, please, I can't- I can't, please open, Alex, please open, please open it!"

He hears Alex curse to himself and the scraping sound happens again, and then the lid moves and  he sees a shape against the moonlight like a cutout shadow. He throws himself to the side and tries to heave himself over the edge, slips right away because his shoes are covered in sludge and so are his hands. Alex catches his shirt and loops an arm beneath his shoulder to pull him up.

"Come here," Alex says.

He pulls on Z2 to fish him out of the bin, and Z2's legs kick wildly as he frantically tries to help so he'll be out of here faster. He topples over the side and Alex barely catches him.

"Shit!"

It's clumsy and Z2's wrist jars painfully when he lands on the ground but it's the ground and he's out of that box, no, out of the bin. The air is cool and smells like grass down here. It's heavenly.

"Thank you," he breathily mumbles, relief making him near delirious. "Thank you Alex, thank you, thank you."

Alex crouches next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders to help him up. "Are you okay? What happened to you?"

That's when Z2 realizes that he's shaking worse than before, when he feels his own tremors against Alex's steady arm. Z2's legs feel weak and he thinks it's not just from the strain of trying to push against the lid. His heart is pounding and dry sobs catch in his throat.

"Zee?"

Alex's other arm presses against his chest to hold him up and Z2 can feel his heart hammering against the boy's palm. The other smells so good, clean and fragrant, and Z2 is suddenly awash with shame when he realizes how bad he must smell. He guiltily pushes himself away from Alex.

"Your clothes- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he quickly apologizes.

He can't see Alex's features very well in the dark but he can hear his voice clearly, and his tone is comforting the way he'd try to comfort a spooked cat. "That's why we've got a laundry machine. It's fine, Zee." Z2 feels a warm hand wrap around his arm and Alex's voice turns into something sterner, but he gets a feeling it's not against him. "God, you're freezing. Come on, let's get you cleaned up before you catch a cold."

/!\ Please proceed with caution if you want to explore the Boxboy Universe as it features trafficking/slavery, and so often abuse, nonconsensual acts and institutionalized/pet whumpees.

N.B.: Thank you for being so enthusiastic about me posting this part completing the other one, guys. For those who haven't read it and would like to, here's the link!