#boundaryless and endless

[homokommari]

it is kinda funny how me drawing superbat fat n trans makes people stop and wonder why they are "different from canon" when my guy u were already looking for superman and batman sucking face, which is also not canon. it shouldnt surprise you too much that i'd do a twist on something more than just their sexualities.

[mirixmoya]

hello friends welcome to GRADING TORTURED POET SOCIETY SONGS BASED ON HOW EASILY I COULD TURN THEM INTO A HAYFFIE FIC (PART TWO) i hope u enjoy.

(you can find PART ONE here, for anyone interested!)

i. the black dog: 8/10. excellent directly-post-war hayffie song. captures a moment when they haven't quite re-connected yet, but they're both dying without eachother. "my longings stay unspoken, and i may never open up the way i did for you" "six weeks of breathing clean air, i still miss the smoke" is all very them. a really effective illustration of how the world feels like a different place in heartbreak, it's desolate and aching, which is all very very hayffie.

ii. imgonnagetyouback: 9/10. this song is bananas crazy, but so is effie. so it fits. it reeks of the turbulent, on-again-off-again, boundaryless, situationship parts of hayffie. once again, i think this could be a VERY good directly-post-war vibe. "i can tell when somebody still wants me" "you'll find that you were never not mine" "even if it's handcuffed, i'm leaving here with you" are all crazy thought processes which i can 100% imagine effie having.

iii. the albatross: 7/10. i know everyone is really stuck on this being a lucy gray / katniss / snow parallel song, but i see the hayffie vision! i think it would be a good song to juxtapose all of effie's relationships with capitol men against her relationship with haymitch. how is she made to behave by love? how does her fame + position loom over her relationships? effie is mythologized by the men in her life, almost made unreal by their perceptions of her, and it's haymitch who makes her real again. if any of that makes sense.

iv. chloe or sam or sophia or marcus: 8/10. EVERYONE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE, but i have this vision of really angsty post-canon hayffie where they try to make a proper relationship work, they really do, but they just... can't. but there is an ache to this failure. a regret. they thought that they would always be able to come back to this, to eachother, but they discover that life is actually a series of closed doors. things change over time. they're forced to grieve this past version of their relationship that they simply don't have access to anymore. "you turned me into an idea of sorts, you needed me but you needed drugs (ALCOHOL) more" "could it be enough to just float in your orbit?" "if you want to break my cold, cold heart, say you loved me" ... yeah, the angst potential is endless.

v: how did it end?: 7/10. ONCE AGAIN, excellent bones for an angsty post-canon 'well, it didn't work out' hayffie vibe. good general thg imagery with "lost the game of chance, what are the chances?" + "the empathetic hunger descends" etc etc. "we were blind to unforeseen circumstances" very very them.

vi: so high school: 5/10. i feel like i could twist it to be hayffie if i tried really hard. like maybe a post-canon movie-verse traumaless fluff vibe where everything just falls into place. "no one's ever had me, not like you" is a very good line for hayffie tho.

vii: i hate it here: 8/10. excellent potential for a pre-canon / during-canon hayffie where effie uses their relationship as her refuge from the rest of the world, it's the only place she can truly be herself. the precocious child stuff, the debutant stuff, "i'm lonely but i'm good, i'm bitter but i swear i'm fine", all feels veryyy effie. this song would also be a good framework for effie being incapable of articulating her relationship with haymitch to other people, the magic of it is lost on them, it comes out clunky and awkward. but SHE knows it's real.

viii: thanK you aIMee: 2/10. not a hayffie song. but i feel like i could make it about effie & The Other Escorts if i really tried.

ix: i look in people's windows: 6/10. listen, this album is just an post-canon hayffie gold mine. "i had died the tiniest death" (the war) "i'm afflicted by the not knowing" (her relationship with haymitch) "what if your eyes looked up and met mine, one more time" (they can try again, can't they?). the anxious, almost neurotic ruminating is very effie to me.

x. the prophecy: 10/10. THE HAYFFIE SONG! if you saw the twitter edit before it got taken down, you KNOW. "don't want money, just someone who wants my company" "i'm so afraid i've sealed by fate" ... devastating. i think the illusions to prophecy & fate & this lack of control all play into her role in The Games really well. the idea that she's being punished for her sins by this lack of love. so much of effie is controlled and precise, i think the fact that this one thing (her relationship with haymitch) is sooo out of her control would drive her insane. perhaps insane enough to beg on her knees...

xi. cassandra: 4/10. not really hayffie focused, but good potential for one of my more politically focused fics. maybe the year of the 75th, leading right up to the rebellion. cinna & portia strike me as very cassandra-coded.

xii. peter: 1/10. not hayffie. maybe seneca & effie relationship study, but def not hayffie.

xiii. the bolter: 10/10. PERFECT EFFIE SONG! NO NOTES! SHE IS THE BOLTER! a precocious child with a "quite bewitching face" who is "splendidly selfish, charmingly helpless"??? welcome back effie trinket! the chorus is very hayffie to me. i'm thinking pre-canon early affair vibes. we get all the fun contrast between her relationship with haymitch and her relationship with the capitol "trophy hunters". the bridge could not be more effie if it tried, "hearts are hers for the breaking, there's an escape in escaping". she falls through the ice (the war) but don't worry folks, she comes out alive!

xiv. robin: 0/10. i genuinely have no idea what i could do with this song. sorry.

xv. the manuscript: 3/10. potential for post-canon living-happily-ever-after hayffie but with effie reflecting on her past relationships with capitol men. there's lots of illusions to grooming and the imprint that age-gap relationships leave behind that i think could really work.

[azrielgreen]

Sammy and Billy getting together and not telling Steve because they worry about anything rocking the boat and his general fragile mental state so they keep it to themselves for a bit. But Eddie sees them together and Billy swears him to secrecy and Eddie, who is, as you said, in his downward spiral era, “accidentally” let’s it slip to Steve to try and force a wedge between him and Billy cause, ya know, Eddie’s jealousy makes him do crazy things.

This is such an interesting element. Early on with SS, I debated back and forth about HOW jealous Eddie would get over Steve&Billy and it's a part of why I wrote them like this. IDK if people are aware of the GREATNESS of 'Queer as Folk' USA but that was a hugely formative show for me and part of what I loved so much about it, is this very intimate and boundaryless friendship between two characters that has stayed with me forever. The Billy/Steve friendship was inspired by parts of this, the intimacy of it at least and the platonic kissing, but with one BIG change - not having it be unrequited love on either side. And therefore, Eddie (who can be INSANELY jealousy prone) plays into it so well because to be a longstanding presence in Steve's life, he has to accept that this IS the friendship they have and not be threatened by it, so WHAT FUN AHEAD when he's in a spiral as you so delicious wrote above and can't help but let his jealousy control his mouth. Endless possibilities for pain, angst and anguish!!!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

break it if I try convey it (chapter 2)

The climactic finale! Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for beta reading and coming up with this whole AU!

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3!

tw: gun violence, non consensual drug use, physical abuse (off page, results are seen)

------

Husk goes down to Valentino's club, knowing there is a very small chance he'll ever walk out again, much less with Angel Dust.

But Valentino has a deal to offer him. A deal that might be too good to turn down.

------

The kicker was it had actually been a good day.

Angel collapsed into the chair at his dressing table, chest heaving, limbs tingling. His reflection was a pretty sight, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with effort, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead that caught a few blonde curls, his lighter freckles lost in the new boom of his skin. He allowed himself a satisfied smile before taking a long drink of water and plucking a fan from the many hanging off his mirror, unfurling it with an expert flick of the wrist and using it to take some of the heat from his face. He’d seen a similar face in this mirror so many times before, times it would depress him to sit and count, but this was the first time it had smiled so big.

Because it really had been a good day, something rare and precious enough but almost impossible for not having stepped out of Val’s club in twelve hours. Angel was exhausted, he saw flashbulbs behind his eyelids when he closed them, his stomach was still dizzy but there was a deep satisfaction to it, pride even. Not emotions he usually associated with being here, even if everything else was familiar. Though he supposed that’s what happened when you got to spend the day dancing and not being passed between men he hadn’t chosen for himself. 

It was almost like looking into another life, the life Angel had thought he was signing up for, all those years ago. The life he’d have if Valentino didn’t lie with every other word that came out of his mouth. 

He really did love dancing, he always had, even back when he thought of himself as Anthony. He had foggy memories he’d fought to keep even as he’d gladly drowned the rest in drink and drugs. Memories of his nonna’s soft, spotted hands in his own, teaching him the tarantella and the pizzica, watching the years and the miles fall away from her face as she danced herself back home. He and Molly stomping around their tiny apartment, swishing imaginary skirts and tapping imaginary tambourines while the gramophone wheezed them a song, always getting caught in the same scratch on the record, forcing them to repeat the same steps over and over until they collapsed into giggles. 

When he was older but not quite old enough, he’d found out about the clubs in the city, in Greenwich Village and Broadway, the endless silver sequinned nights of the pansy craze. That was where he’d first met her, finding her in his first shaky attempts at sewing scrap fabric older queens graciously lent him, in this new kind of boundaryless beauty that called to the nervous heart of him. Anthony loved to dance but Angel Dust turned dance into freedom. 

He’d feared the war would be the end of it, after his father told him he was enlisting, despite Johnny offering to take his place and Molly’s tearful begging, and that he’d better come back a real man or not come back at all. The joke had certainly been on him. Angel’s performance skills had been an asset in France, an unconventional ticket into the clubs full of enemy soldiers, a kind of espionage most soldiers didn’t have the stomach for. And in those clubs, his new French friends had introduced him to pole dancing. From the moment he’d first swallowed his nerves and flung himself into a spin, he felt something click into place, they may as well have taught him to fly. And he’d never wanted to come back down.

Sure he wasn’t all dolled up but that would come on opening night. For now Val was letting him focus on rehearsals, even listening to his suggestions for the choreography. Between that and seeing Husk tomorrow to pose for the poster artwork, today was as close as Angel thought he’d get to the life he’d once dreamed of.

And once I’m free, every day will look like this.

The thought widened his reflection’s grin, turning it into something almost innocent, like a bite of stolen candy. Angel let him have it, too many endorphins pounding through him to take it away. Sure it was slow going, step by cautious step, but all he had to do was be patient. All the suffering, all the lies and betrayals, it would be worth it, he’d get what he’d been promised. Feather by feather, he and Husk were rebuilding his wings. 

Angel reached out almost reflexively for the dusty prayer candle by side side of the mirror. An odd thing to find on a whore’s dressing table but it had belonged to his nonna and the smell of it calmed him down after rough nights and bad trips. It had seemed like the perfect hiding place, Valentino seemed to have an allergy to anything religious. 

He knew it wasn’t safe to keep it here, even less safe to take it out. All the other drawings Husk had gifted him were safe back at the hotel, hidden under his mattress along with the tips he’d been hoarding, his contribution to that steadily climbing tally on Husk’s wall. But this drawing was special, it was the very first one his lover had ever given him, the first crack in the wall. The comfort of having it close had seemed worth the risk, fuck, Angel and Husk had gambled on a hell of a lot less. He didn’t need to touch it, he just needed to know it was there, Val wouldn’t even see any smudges in the dust, there was no harm in it. 

But today was a good day. And if he was going to stay clean, he’d need to take his risks somewhere. One look, one reminder of where they were going, that this good day was the start of so many more. 

His reflection was still smiling, golden in the light of the bulbs around the mirror frame. Angel could at least take a little pride in the fact that, even when he realized how wrong he was, that the good day was over and never coming again, the music had stopped and the lights had blown, he never stopped smiling. 

Because what had his life taught him, if not to smile through the world coming down around him?  

There already were finger marks in the dust around his candle. Long, sharp fingers, ones that didn’t look strong but the marks on Angel’s neck could tell you otherwise. Shaking, numb, he reached through them and turned the candle over, bleakly unsurprised to see no carefully folded drawing taped to the underside. He couldn’t be angry, he couldn’t be bitter, he was just sad. 

It had been such a good day. Now it was just a day Angel hoped he’d survive. 

“I was wondering why you seemed so happy lately, amorcito…”

Angel had heard the door open, right on cue, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t have to give him that, not yet. He just stayed frozen like a bird in the gaze of a prowling cat, wincing at every click of Valentino’s heels on the floor. 

“It was obvious but I was content to bide my time, I knew you’d slip up sooner or later. Would you like to know what gave you away?”

Angel said nothing, feeling like if he opened his mouth, the only thing that would come out would be the alarm bells jangling in his nerves. 

“You wouldn’t choose anything over dancing. But still, you asked to go and see him when, any other time, the thought of being on that stage would push everything else from your mind. But still, you asked to go. Almost as if you can find the same joy in his studio…”

He was behind him now, if Angel looked up he would see him in the mirror, see the smile he knew would accompany that sugar light tone, the red smoke hissing from between those bared teeth, those eyes that the warmth in his voice wouldn’t reach. But he stayed looking at his hands just a moment longer, forcing one shaky breath in and out again. 

Showtime. 

“Val, honey,” he plastered a crooked grin on his face, making his voice high, playful, harmless, “I don’t want you getting the wrong idea here. You know johns give me trinkets here and there, I pass them on to you like I’m supposed to but it was just a silly little doodle, I didn’t think you’d mind?”

Val arched a perfect eyebrow, his smile curling at one end, “Is that all? Well, I suppose I can forgive that…although…why did you hide it from me? If it truly is just a meaningless token from some pathetic fool who thinks he’s in love with you because you choked on his dick?”

Angel felt the kind of panic reserved for people standing on thin ice who had just heard a crack. Do better than that. 

“I…it sounds silly…” he aimed for coy, inclining his head, “I just liked how I looked in it, he made me look so pretty…but I knew it was a dumb reason to keep it around so I hid it. Don’t you think I look pretty, Val?”

Val pursed his lips, “I suppose art truly is subjective. You looked like a brainless whore on his first day, the state of your makeup. If you’re entertaining a client, you look like you’re worth what they pay for you. At all times, you understand me?”

Angel swallowed, deciding it wouldn’t be smart to point out that Val never asked Husk to pay for him. He’d been a bonus, sugar on top of a deal and even then he’d refused. 

He’d only ever taken Angel when he was freely given. 

“Yes, Valentino,” he murmured, not missing a beat, a response to a call he knew so well it was burned into him, “It won’t happen again.”

The unflinching obedience seemed to finally soften him, a long fingered hand coming down to Angel’s shoulder, the hand that held his cigarette so perfumed smoke curled into his face. 

“So it really was just my amorcito and his silly vanity? Just a little trinket?”

“Yes, Valentino,” the same response, no flinching, not even when the grip on his shoulder tightened. You can’t afford to flinch.

“And the artist, the old fool, his infatuation…it is just that? Nothing more?”

Angel’s breath hitched slightly, “Of course. You know how they are, you flirt with them and they’re so desperate, they start falling for it harder than they mean to, it’s…it’s sad, y’know.”

Valentino chuckled, a deep, cruel sound but a safe one, one that made the ground underneath Angel feel a little firmer, “As if he could ever believe my amorcito would find him attractive, hm? Ever believe the things you told him were true? Pathetic…”

At least the smoke gave his eyes an excuse to fill with tears, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Ah, it is cruel of you to tease me, amorcito. Put my poor heart at ease, say it for me. Say it out loud.”

His tongue felt thick, uncooperative, he had to force the bile up his own throat. You have to. He’d understand. 

“He means nothing to me,” Angel kept his eyes fixed on his own reflection, “He was just a job, Val, I like his pretty pictures, that’s all. I could never love him.”

The grip finally released, leaving a deep ache behind that couldn’t compare to the one in Angel’s own chest, “Good boy. I knew that’s what you’d say.” 

He had a moment to feel that relief soured with guilt, keeping it off his face but letting it rush through him like cold air, letting himself relax just a little. 

When Val splayed his hand on the back of Angel’s head, striking quick and empty like a snake, Angel could only feel disappointed in himself. He should have known. He always gave him a moment to think he was safe before reminding him he never could be. 

Angel’s head hit the dressing table with a blinding, soundless impact that saw blood coloured stars burst behind his eyelids. Immediately, the connection between his brain and his body were severed, pain replacing the electricity that ran through his nerves, he couldn’t fight back even if he could bring himself to. His own cry of pain rang in his ears, a looping reminder of his failure. 

Valentino yanked him back, hissing in his ear, “I knew you’d say that because you’re an ungrateful, lying whore. You think I didn’t know you were hiding your tips? You think I don’t check in with your clients?”

Angel could only manage a strangled, choking cough, mouth full of blood where he’d bitten his tongue, “Bastard…”

“Oh but you haven’t heard the best part,” the grip on his hair became vice-like, burning like the venom in his voice was somehow leaching through his skin, “I knew you’d turn on me the moment you asked to move in with that high society bitch. Turns out her daddy couldn’t pay for security though, well, at least not enough to stop the man I hired from snapping the lock off your window and having a look inside…”

Angel felt white hot hatred surge in his chest. His vision was blurring, swimming, but he found Val’s eyes in the mirror, letting it pour out through his gaze, “You son of a bitch.”

“Such anger from the wretch who's stealing from the man who made him everything he is,” Val snarls, “I have the money from under your mattress, you lying cunt. And I have these…”

In Valentino’s shaking grip, they looked like nothing but crumpled scraps of paper, worthless trash. But the sight of them knocked all the fight out of Angel, collapsing his anger into pure despair. It may as well have been his own heart crushed between those cruel fingers. 

“There it is,” Val’s smile was back, the smile of an ape, something familiar that was supposed to show kindness but only showed violence, “But I have more than these, Angel. I have you saying that he means nothing. I have you saying you could never love him. And after you destroy these drawings and I destroy you, you will know how right you are.”

The rest was freefall, waiting to hit the ground as Val dragged him out of his dressing room by the hair and down towards his office, towards the back room where he did his real work. And all Angel could think was how Valentino was right and always would be. Those words, denying everything Husk had ever given him, would be imprinted on his tongue forever. 

It was almost as bad as what came after Val’s office door closed behind them. 

Almost. 

—

Husk had grown up on the strip, he knew seedy when he saw it. And even with the lights off, Valentino’s screamed sleaze, the kind of place the tourists avoided and locals didn’t want to be seen walking through the doors. He’d never been inside, even before meeting Angel and sure as hell not after. His demons liked to play elsewhere but it was impossible not to see the place for what it was. A goddamn meat market, last step before the slaughterhouse. 

Husk knew he should be calm. He’d been in more battles than he cared to count and he knew that steady hands and steady breaths were sometimes all that saved you. But then he caught sight of the poster in the window. His Angel, looking so beautiful and bright, dressed to the nines, but with that fucker’s name plastered across his chest, like a brand, like he owned him. Suddenly his fist was pounding on the locked door, making the chain rattle.

“You wanted me, I’m here,” he shouted, “Now fucking open up.”

Someone heard him, over the sound of the other clubs on the street, thrumming with music and raised voices and other lives that weren’t teetering on the edges of cliffs. After some rattling, the door did open, showing a waifish young woman who was barely old enough to qualify for the title. She looked at Husk with naked fear, tense like she was waiting for some blow to fall. The expression in her huge, blue eyes said she knew she was a human shield, there in case Husk wanted to try for the upper hand from the word go. 

If Husk had any doubts about the kind of man he was dealing with, they were long gone. He only wished he had some pity to spare for her. 

“Where is he?”

The answer was apparently his office, though the poor girl was too scared to say it in words. She just led him through the eerily dark, silent lounge, past the dead stage, to back rooms. The whole place was empty, not even a dancer or bartender to speak of, Val had apparently cleared them out for this sit down. No one to hear if anyone screamed. 

It was unnerving, for many reasons, to walk through the oak door and see his own work up on the wall, see the work that had brought Angel into his life. And might still end it. Right now, the crack in those chains was a deeply unfunny joke, hope made of paper and paint when the chains were so very real. 

Valentino sat at the extravagant desk, fingers tented and eyes flashing with interest at Husk, like a curtain had just lifted and a show had just begun, “You’re early.”

“You have Angel,” Husk replied bluntly, clenching his fists, “I’m not here to play games, Valentino, I’m here to take him as far away from you as possible. So tell me what I need to do to make that happen.” 

Valentino’s eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, “How disappointing…I’d heard that you were fond of games…”

Husk didn’t snap at the bait, just folding his arms and standing his ground. He’d seen this type before, guys who looked like they’d be afraid to break a nail but were far more dangerous than the gold chains and silk shirt and striped fur coat made it seem. Behind those ridiculous glasses, Husk saw eyes that hadn’t only known power, they’d known fear too. This was a man who’d been under the heel and had carved himself free, bloodily. There was very little he wouldn’t do to keep others feeling weak in his place, people like the girl now cowering against the wall, people like Angel Dust. People like Husk himself, if he let him. 

“You told me you wanted me to draw,” Husk growled, hackles shamelessly raised, “I’ll do whatever fucking drawing you want then I’m going and I’m taking Angel with me.”

Valentino just smirked, that sickly smile Husk itched to punch right off his face, “Ah yes, that was your cute little plan, wasn’t it? Something out of a fairytale. Except I know you don’t have all of it. I know what I’ve paid you and I know the pathetic scraps Angel had squirreled away under his mattress. You’re insulting my dear boy if you think that’s all he’s worth. So how about you and I discuss a different plan?”

Husk kept his face a blank slate, if you had an ace up your sleeve you sure as fuck didn’t let the other guy know, “Whatever. Just say your piece.”

Val stood smoothly, every movement sanguine, almost lazy, like they had all the time in the world, “Oh I will, Mr Husker. But I want him to hear too…”

Husk didn’t need to ask who, he just tried to steel himself as Valentino went to that damned painting and slid it aside, revealing a door. He’d been doing everything he could not to imagine what the bastard had been doing to Angel in the hours he’d had him, knowing that he’d never stop if he let himself start, that the panic would cripple him. But as that steel door swung open, Husk realized there had been no point. Nothing he could have imagined would have been as bad as it was. 

He’d thought the chains had been a metaphor but clearly he’d underestimate Valentino. A naked Angel was literally shackled to the wall of a starkly tiled room, a room clearly built for messy work. And it had seen some use. His face was untouched, of course it was, but the rest of him was a ruin, bruises already blossoming in violent shapes of hands and fingers and teeth, burns in perfect circles from that awful cigarette, scratches lacing his body, his wrists chafed and raw from where he’d pulled desperately on the cuffs to get away.

“Angel…” Husk’s voice broke, any hope of staying calm long gone as he rushed towards him, collapsing on his knees in front of his lover, “Oh fuck, Angel…”

There was a god awful moment of waiting, one that felt so much longer than five seconds had any right to, before Angel’s bare chest finally rose weakly. Husk felt his own lungs respond, like they’d been waiting, like they didn’t want to work in a world where Angel’s weren’t. 

“Husk…” his tongue was thick and badly bitten, his words slurred. 

He was surprised he could form words at all. Valentino clearly hadn’t been content with breaking him physically, he’d broken his mind too. Track marks carved a miserable path down his right arm, blown veins spiraling down into the tattered remains of his hard won sobriety. His pupils were huge, swallowing the whites of his eyes, and judging by the way he was shaking and the thin line of pink spit running down his chin, Angel had fallen right into them. Husk just prayed it was dulling the pain, as he yanked his own jacket off and carefully laid it around his shoulders..    

“I’m here,” he was desperate to hold Angel but he didn’t know how without hurting him, only brave enough for the gentlest brush of his fingers on one cheek, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

“Sorry…” Angel choked out, voice weak, tears spilling down his cheeks and following well worn tracks, “I tore them, the drawings, I tore them up, I’m sorry…”

Husk had to fight not to break down, to stay whole so Angel had something to cling to, “It’s okay, baby, you don’t need to say sorry. Not at all. I’m here now, I’m gonna get you out of here.”

“Now don’t go making promises you can’t keep, con man,” Val’s voice came sharply punctuated with the sound of a gun’s hammer being drawn back. 

Husk turned, teeth bared, placing himself squarely between Angel and Valentino, “Oh, I ain’t. That’s exactly what I’m here to do and you’re a damn fool if you think waving that gun at me is going to change that. You wanted me to draw, I’ll fucking draw then we’re going.”

“Ah, I see there’s been a misunderstanding,” that shark grin again, the smile that was a boot pressed on a pulse, “I am not pointing a gun at you, Mister Husk, I am pointing a gun at my disobedient pet. You simply happen to be in the way. And Angel is not the price I am offering for this last commission.”

“Then I ain’t fucking doing it,” Husk snapped, rising with fists ready but sure enough that gun stayed trained on Angel. 

“But you haven’t even heard my generous terms,” Val simpered, inclining his head, “And I certainly would, given that the other option is his brains decorating the wall. Not as pretty a picture as you can make, granted, but I would get some satisfaction from it. I’d even let you admire it for a second before you took the next bullet.”

Husk raised his chin, jaw so tight it felt like his teeth were going to crack, “Speak.”

“Gladly,” Val cocked his hip, “You will draw him for me, as he is now. Both he and you will see Angel for what he truly is. Whatever lies you both convinced yourselves you believed, they’re ashes now, it's time to see the truth. There’s nothing here you can love, Mister Husk, only a broken, used up junkie whore. And once you see that, once I’ve got the proof in my hand, you can take your money. You can even take Angel’s scrapings, seeing as he promised them to you, it’s not like he has any use for them now. And you can walk out of here a whole man, a rich man and a much smarter man than you were when you walked in.”

It took everything he had but Husk managed not to turn around, not even when he heard Angel give a shuddering sob behind him, a sound like an engine cutting out, a sound like the last of someone’s hope draining away. 

“And in this scenario, what happens to him?” Husk’s voice was flat, emotionless, “I’m whole, rich and smart but where is he?”

Val’s grin was triumphant, Husk was certain the bastard was hearing a fanfare in his mind, “I won’t kill him, I’ll give you my word on that. In fact, this is the only road that doesn’t end with him dead, he’s crossed me too many times.”

Husk closed his eyes, taking a long, slow breath. The moment hung there, like a drop of water, growing larger and larger, threatening to drag them down and tip them into chaos until finally it fell. 

“I won’t draw him when he’s chained up like that,” Husk’s voice had the slightest of cracks in it, a showman until the end, “If I’m going to do this, let him stand.”

He’d been braced for tears, for anger, for Angel to beg. But he hadn’t been ready for silence. Mute acceptance, not a gasp or a whimper. Like Angel had never even hoped, not for a single second. 

It took everything in Husk to step away from Angel, not even turning, focusing on the small side table placed in the corner of the room, a chair pulled up, a fresh pad of paper and pencil waiting for him there. Apparently everyone had known what he’d choose. 

While he sat, Valentino yanked Angel roughly to his feet, unlocking the chains with a key he pulled from the silken expanse of his coat, the wrists underneath scraped raw. He may as well have been dragging around a marionette. Angel didn’t even look up at him, his limbs wooden, eyes like glass. He only flinched when Val went to rip Husk’s jacket off his back, like those fingers were going to pull away more than fabric, 

“For fuck’s sake, let him keep it,” Husk’s voice was thin, ready to splinter and crack like glass underfoot, “I won’t draw it, just…he’s freezing…”

There was an edge of poison in Valentino’s bemused smile, something dangerous he couldn’t quite hide, “My advice, Mister Husk? Let that fondness die. See him for what he is then move on. In my experience, it is the only way in our line of work.”

Husk’s mouth twisted in disgust, the words burning, “I’m not like you.”

“Oh?” Valentino drew on his cigarette, exhaling a curling cloud of red, closing the distance between him and Husk in a few long strides. 

Suddenly Husk was acutely aware of the gun in his hand, how quickly he could end both his and Angel’s lives with one flex of a single muscle. Sure he might regret losing his favorite toy but by then it would be too late to take it back, no use crying over spilled blood. Husk wasn’t just playing Russian roulette here, he was playing it on a table that might tip off the edge of a cliff at any moment.

“Don’t we both sell fantasies?” This close his breath was sharp, alcohol and ash and powder, all kinds of poison, “Didn’t we both spin him a future that was never real and never going to be? No, I think we are alike in very many ways, Mister Husk. Most importantly, we are both men who will do what we must to survive.”

Husk didn’t say anything but he heard a sound like the click of a gun firing on an empty chamber. He wouldn’t get many more chances like that one. 

“Get out of my way and let me draw,” he rasped with all the fragments of his shattered pride he could find. 

Val’s chuckle was sickly sweet, lingering along with the smoke after he’d swept off to a far more comfortable chair behind Angel, reclining like something out of a Botticelli. 

“The difference between us? I don’t deny how cruel I am,” he purred, “And looking at poor Angel now, the wreck you’ve made of him by dangling that promise, letting him reach for it only to watch it burn before his eyes…wouldn’t you agree my way is kinder?”

The temptation was there to just not see Angel, to look through him like he wasn’t there, to treat him like one of those many memories that were just too painful to hold. But Husk owed him so much more than that, he didn’t fight as that burning accusation pulled his gaze over to the man he loved. Did love, still loved, would always love no matter what happened in these back rooms. 

Husk looked at Angel, praying he could hear him wherever the pain and high and dragged him, not trying to hide the tears in his voice, “I’m sorry. Thought I had one last ace up my sleeve but…took a braver man than me to use it.”

His sudden rush of bravery didn’t last long enough to see what, if any, response flashed across Angel’s face. Husk just did what he’d always done, when the world grew too big and unwieldy and overwhelming. He ducked his head, picked up his pencil and drew. 

—

People always asked Husk how he did it. The question had been asked half a hundred different ways, mostly at the fancy gallery parties he used to attend the first time people paid him ridiculous amounts of money to do this. They asked him in tones of awe edged with jealousy, rare to hear from the mouths of men richer than he’d ever hope to be, but he supposed his talent was the one thing they’d never be able to buy. 

Over time he’d built up stock answers, dry, witty ones that would get them laughing and opening their purses, not ones that gave them anything resembling truth. Because the truth was hard to pin down, it slid through your fingers and the glimpses you did get just made you think, is that it? 

The truth was that Husk didn’t really know where it came from. It had started out less like art and more like some kind of exorcism, trying to take the anger and fear and want he was born with and trap it in a piece of paper, a way of making his demons small enough to screw into a tight little ball and hurl into the trash. He’d never thought it was beautiful, if the things he saw were beautiful he wouldn’t need to draw them in the first place, he’d just be able to live amongst them and not force them a pencil’s distance away. 

Husk hadn’t even meant to show people his art in the first place. His mama had found them and of course she said they were good, she was his mama. She’d always seen good in him, even when he didn’t think there was any there. 

But then she hadn’t called his art beautiful, she’d said it was truthful. Just like Charlie said, there was honesty in what he drew, according to them, according to the people who asked. Husk didn’t know if truth and beauty were the same thing but he knew a hell of a lot of poets who’d tried to figure it out and he was happy to leave them to it. 

But he’d finally accepted there was something to see in the art he made. And if truth was what Valentino wanted, it was what he would give him. 

—

“How long are you planning on taking, Mister Husk? If this is an attempt to delay your goodbye you are only making it harder on yourself and poor Angel. I think you’ve hurt him enough, no?”

Husk had to admit he was right, enough waiting. Showtime. 

He met Angel’s eyes, his voice raw, saying it just because he’d never be able to forgive himself if he didn’t, “Goodbye Anthony. I love you.”

Again, he couldn’t wait for an answer, he couldn’t face another uncertainty. He just had to move forward, the show must go on and all that shit. Husk wondered if the show ever really stopped. 

He handed the paper over to Valentino, drawing facing down, managing not to flinch as the pimp snatched it from his hand.

“You wanted me to see him for what he was. There he is.”

Husk had to admit, as terrified as he was, as loud as his heart was hammering in his ears and making him think of every drink and every smoke he’d ever had currently clogging his arteries, he had to admit that it was damn satisfying to see the look on Valentino’s face. He’d remember the way smug satisfaction cracked and slid off to reveal utter dismay for the rest of his life. However long that was going to be. 

“What…what the fuck is this…” Val’s voice was shaking, his control along with it.

“That’s Angel,” Husk’s voice was a snarl. 

And it was, as best as he could draw him in a cold back room while a gun was pointed at him. If there really was truth in the art he’d made, he’d let it pour out of him and on to that page. Every time Angel had stood in front of him in his studio, every story he’d told him about his life, every time Husk held him in his arms, every touch and kiss and tear, it was all there. The Angel he drew was the one Husk saw, whether he was dressed to the nines or wearing nothing at all or standing in front of him, bruised and almost broken. 

The Angel on that page, Husk’s Angel, was smiling, that crooked, sharp toothed smile like the whole world was a joke. His hair was perfect, his back was tall, he wore his favorite outfit and looked like a million bucks. Both middle fingers were raised in triumph, squarely up at Valentino, and behind him, a set of glorious wings were spread wide, ready to take him wherever he wanted to go. 

“That’s the Angel you try and grind under your heel,” Husk growled, teeth bared, “That’s the Angel you’ve convinced yourself you own. That’s who he is, no fucking thanks to you.” 

“You…you have made a very stupid mistake, Mister Husk,” Valentino rose from his chair, gun rising too, that cold, unblinking eye ready to spit his fury out at Husk. 

“Yeah? Well so did you, motherfucker,” Husk snarled. 

The ace up his sleeve, not his sleeve right now but Angel’s. If Valentino had searched him the damn fool would probably have missed it, sewn into the lining. And if he had managed to find it, well, it was just a playing card? Everyone knew he was a lousy, no good gambler, of course he’d have one up there, ready for one last bad decision. He wouldn’t have noticed it was made of metal, he wouldn’t have noticed the edges were filed down to a deadly sharpness. 

But Angel had understood, even through the haze of drugs and pain, he’d been listening. And when Husk gave him his cue, he acted.

But of course things didn’t go exactly to plan. They never did.

It happened too fast to really catch it but there’d be years of nightmares afterwards where the whole thing would crawl by and Husk would see every instant mapped out in the perfect clarity that only came with terror. Every beat of that terrible dance, he’d walk through it a thousand times. 

The card hitting Valentino’s wrist, sending a spray of blood the same deep red as his coat. The flash from the gun’s muzzle, now off to the left, the metallic bark as the bullet flew wide and buried itself in the wall behind Husk. A moment’s triumph, turning to Angel to see his love with his arm still outstretched, face cold and determined. A drifting, blissful thought that he hadn’t done him justice in that drawing, nothing could be as beautiful as the way he looked right now. 

And that’s when it fell apart. The gun hit the ground. Another flash, an accident this time but what difference did that make, the loud, angry bark was still the same. Except this time it found its mark. 

More blood on the wall, more smoke in the air. Angel bent, twisting around with a strangled cry of pain that would haunt Husk for the rest of his life. Suddenly none of it mattered, Valentino, the gun, none of it. All that mattered was closing the distance between him and Angel, catching him as his knees buckled. 

“Angel?” the tears had moved faster than his feet, his voice came out choked and wretched, “Oh god, Angel, no…”

The young man trembled in his arms, face white where it wasn’t streaked with bright red blood, hand pressed to his temple, more rubies beading between his fingers. His voice came out weak and fragile as a feather, eyes bright with pain, clutching Husk with white knuckles. 

“Are you hurt?” he rasped as soon as Husk was close enough to hear him.

It was crazy to laugh but there he was, choking and snorting as he tore a sleeve of his shirt clean off and wrapped it around Angel’s head, instincts moving his hands for him. He knew bullet wounds, it was ugly right now but he’d live.

“You’re asking me if I’m hurt?” he breathed, holding his face, “When you’re the one who just got shot?”

“Just…just grazed me…” Angel choked out, proving that Husk wasn’t the only one far too familiar with bullets, “Fuck, that’s gonna scar…”

“It will,” Husk wouldn’t lie to him right now, he couldn’t, “But you’re here, beautiful. You’re here.”

Somehow, barely managing to stand up as Husk guided him onto his feet, shivering and covered in blood, Angel looked better than Valentino. The pimp seemed to have shrunken, years ripped away from him, naked fear on his face now. He actually flinched as Angel walked towards him, falling down to his knees as the other grew taller until Angel towered over him. Husk’s drawing was coming to life in front of his eyes, he could almost see those wings unfurling, an angel in every sense of the world. 

“Your…your face…” Val’s voice was full of horror, like the Mona Lisa had gone up in flames before his eyes. 

Angel looked down at him, eyes black with disdain. One bare foot darted out and kicked the gun back towards Husk, trusting him to pick it up and point it straight at Valentino. 

“Husk doesn’t care,” Angel’s voice was cold, like the pathetic excuse for a man before him wasn’t even worth anger, “And, more importantly, I don’t fucking care.” 

Valentino flinched again as Angel reached back into Husk’s jacket. Whatever he could have brought out, he’d have deserved it but the only thing in his hand was an envelope, the same envelope Husk had held in the diner that morning, back in another life. 

Angel threw it down on the floor between them, “I believe this is yours. This and nothing else, Valentino, believe that.”

“I…what…” he seemed afraid to touch it, falling apart the moment he realized he no longer had control, like his power over others truly had been the only thing holding him together. 

“It’s the rest of the money,” Husk indulged in a slow, crooked smile, “Angel’s contract fee, paid in full. I suggest you accept these generous terms, given the other option.” He thumbed back the hammer of the pistol, to emphasize his point. 

Pure shock brought back some of the fire behind those glasses, “You can’t possibly…you have to be lying, you little bitch.”

“Count it if you like, we’ll wait,” Angel arched an eyebrow, “Though if you pull yourself together enough to recognise the stationary, it’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

Hand shaking, Val reached down, bringing it close enough to see the address stamped in the top corner, “No…”

“Miss Charlotte Morningstar,” Angel’s voice softened slightly, the way a religious man might say the name of a saint, “Too high society to have ever come across trash like you but you must be familiar with the name? It would have been somewhere in the building you had your rats break into.”

“She ain’t gonna be too happy about that by the way,” Husk smirked, “Neither is her daddy. So dispel any notions you might have about calling this deal anything but square.”

“Take it, Val,” there was almost a sadness in Angel’s voice, like he was seeing some other version of his tormentor, one from a very long time ago when he’d trusted him, maybe even thought he loved him, “Just let me go.”

Valentino’s jaw worked, his eyes wide and white, clearly scrambling for any kind of way out, a way to stop the sand slipping through his fingers. Husk narrowed his eyes, his own finger still and steady on the trigger. He didn’t search himself for any kind of hesitation, he knew he wouldn’t find any. 

Finally, Valentino looked up at Angel and croaked in a voice barely audible, “Why not just kill me?”

As if that would be a kindness. As if that was the better option. Husk understood, after a heartbeat’s worth of thought. Maybe it was kinder to kill a moth outright rather than rip its wings off and leave it twitching on the ground, broken and powerless, always knowing what freedoms it used to enjoy. 

Angel’s lip curled, all traces of pity or fear gone, packed away for another time. 

“That’s what you never understood, Val. After everything you did to me, after everything you put me through, I’m not you. You fucking hear me? I’m not you.”

He turned his back on the wreck of Valentino, moving to Husk and taking the gun from him. A few practiced flicks of the wrist and the bullets rained on the floor, Angel tossing the now neutered pistol to one side. He picked up Husk’s drawing from the floor instead, holding it tight to his chest, his choice clear as day. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Husk opened a hand to him, knowing none of this would feel true, none of it would be real, until they were out of this god forsaken place and breathing fresh air. 

Angel nodded, though he hesitated, just a moment, “Actually…”

Faster than either other man could blink, he whipped around and delivered a ferocious right hook punch to Valentino’s nose, sending him sprawling again when he’d only just started to rise. With an undignified scream, the pimp finally slumped down, cradling the broken ruin of his nose now spewing blood on that ridiculous coat.

“What?” Angel muttered, once he’d taken in Husk’s expression of stunned joy, “I’m not him but I ain’t a fucking saint either. Now get me out of here.”

Husk didn’t need to be told twice. They split before the fates realized that, for once, after so many knocks and snake eyes and bad hands, they’d actually won. 

—-

SIX MONTHS LATER 

Husk must have spent hours looking at Angel Dust. But he’d never get tired of it.

Not even after painting his face ten feet high on the wall of a building.

Husk stepped back, rolling his shoulders to get the ache out of them, pushing his graying curls back from his damp forehead, definitely streaking them with pink paint but finding it hard to care right now.

“I think it’s finally done,” he announced, with a strange mix of melancholy and pride. 

“Let me guess,” Angel sighed theatrically from behind him, voice fondly bemused, “You’re gonna tell me it isn’t good enough?”

Husk chuckled, not surprised that Angel had pulled the thought right off the end of his tongue and dangled it playfully in front of him. He turned to his lover, to where he was sprawled out on the little patch of grass that ran around the perimeter of the Hazbin Hotel, the one they’d both spent weeks hacking the weeds off of and finally wrestled into something verging on neat. Angel was enjoying the results of their hard work, basking like a cat in the setting sun, drowning in an old shirt of Husk’s and a pair of paint splattered chords. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Boucher painting. 

“Well it ain’t,” Husk smiled, “How can anything I do compare with the real thing?”

That earned him a grin and a hand reaching up to pull him down onto the grass too. They were safely hidden behind the red brick hotel’s broad (and slightly less broken than it used to be) facade. So Husk took that hand and tumbled gratefully into Angel’s arms without any hesitation, exhaling in relief. The world felt a little brighter with Angel’s heartbeat thumping steadily against his ear and it had been plenty bright to begin with. Brighter than he’d ever dared dream, brighter than he surely deserved. 

He opened one eyelid to look up at the mural. He’d saved this part for last, the part around the back of the building that didn’t face the street, meaning it would always be more for them than anyone else. Their family. 

He’d covered the rest of the hotel with color, flowers, stars, trees, birds, far more abstract than he’d ever really gone before but Charlie was beside herself with joy. Husk was amused, he hadn’t really gone in with a plan, he’d just thought about hope and redemption and all the shit she’d talked about, letting it flow through his fingers. He supposed those feelings were easier to come by these days. 

The mural had taken a little longer than he’d planned, seeing as he’d been helping out with the hotel’s renovations. Seemed only fair, seeing as Charlie had put him up there now his studio apartment was full of nothing but broken furniture, torn paintings and ragged memories. They’d find a new place, he and Angel, somewhere in the heart of the city, close to the club where Angel had been performing these last few weeks. Somewhere he could wander down when the mood took him, take his regular table, sip a fine whiskey and sketch while his man danced. 

One day but, right now, the hotel was home. And thanks to all of them, it was turning into a damn beautiful one. 

But Husk had to admit, this wall was his favorite. 

He’d painted Angel just as he was, face crinkled in a huge smile, alight with joy. He’d outlined him in his favorite hot pink, carefully mapped out every single freckle, devotedly cataloged each strand of white blonde hair. And it still wasn’t anywhere close to the real thing. 

Close enough to make Angel wrinkle his nose playfully, “Did you need you put in the scar?”

Husk chuckled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the real thing. It had healed nicely, thanks to Vaggie. Apparently part of her checkered past had involved field medicine, as soon as Husk had carried a bloodied Angel through the doors she had lept into action. Now the bullet graze, furious and red six months ago, was a line of shiny pink skin on Angel’s temple. Healing the rest of him hadn’t been such a linear process and they both knew there was still a way to go. But they’d go that way together and that was all either of them could care about. 

“I did,” Husk murmured, stroking back Angel’s hair, “It’s my favorite part of you, after all.”

“That’s your favorite part of me? I’m not pulling my weight in the bedroom then,” Angel joked but he didn’t hide what those words meant to him. 

“Well,” Husk corrected himself gently, “Let’s say it’s my slightly more favorite part than all my other favorite parts.”

That made him laugh, strong wiry arms coming up around Husk to hold him tight. There was no scar on the knuckle that had broken Valentino’s nose and, if he had to guess, Angel was a little sad about that. He probably wouldn’t have said no to a souvenir. 

“But this scar reminds me how brave you are,” he murmured, kissing it again just because he could, “How hard you can fight. How I’m spending the rest of our lives together paying you back for what you did for us.”

Angel shifted in his arms, moving so he could kiss him, soft and sweet but his words were softer and sweeter, “You already have, baby. I promise, you already have. I love you.”

Husk could only give his own heart in answer, “I love you too.”

There was more work still to do. Hard work, work that would exhaust them, work that would leave them in tears some nights. But even in those darker moments, they’d be together. 

They’d get to the hard work later. For now, all they had to do was lie in the grass, hold each other. All they had to do was admire how far they’d come and look forward to what was ahead. 

Husk must have spent so much time looking at Angel Dust, hours upon hours, days into weeks. 

And he couldn’t wait to keep doing it for the rest of their lives. 

[chitram]

Is ChitramTV the Future of Indian Television in Europe?

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[friendlyneighborhooddolan]

Little Wing

warnings: This story has some descriptive stuff. Age gap (7 years). Sexual and graphic things, alcohol and drug use.

pairing: Kylo Ren x reader

summary: A date, a song, and some melancholy.

word count: 1.1 K

Masterlist

Chapter three

June baptizes Y/N in rivers of sunlight and she bursts to the surface dripping pollen-green. The air shivers under the weight of so much heat. The wind moves slow as a puddle of water, gets tangled in the raspberries and stays there for hours. Even the splintered blue shadows of the oak branches melt into each other, boundaryless and bubbling like a stretch of tar. In the hot shade of her own balcony, she dreams of a man's lips brushing against the scars on her shoulder blades. He trails his long fingers down her spine and thirty three finches unfurl from her skin, yellow and wet as bone marrow, and they come up to his face, tugging at his sweat-slicked curls, and they both laugh and laugh and feel afraid of nothing. Not even sitting up shirtless to kiss him through the damp slurry of birdsong and heartbeats lifting up, up into the endlessness of the sky. Her man pulls a tangerine out of his pocket, peels it with his delicate, orange stained fingers, lifts the sticky, oozing slice into her mouth. 

She woke up with a sudden gasp. Kylo somehow sneaked into her dreams now. It made her uneasy, Y/N knew about who he was. A ruthless, dangerous man, just like his father, and the father of his father before. Yet, he blushed when he asked her to join him for dinner. The duality of a man.

She should start getting ready, anyways.

At seven in the afternoon, three gentle knocks sneaked up on Kylo, just as he was lighting a candle. 

“Y/N. You look beautiful tonight.” His face lit up. She really did. Her hair rested atop her tan shoulders, which were covered in floral – the dress ended just above her knees. Oh, to be the one that this angel adored and to adore her!

“Hi.” She exhaled, “And you look as handsome as ever.”

The truth is, Kylo was beautiful and elegant at the same time, and his outfit was simple – a black shirt, unbuttoned at the top, black jeans hugged his thighs. Rings adorned his fingers.

“Come on in, the food will get cold,” he chuckled. 

“Oh, I brought a cheesecake.”

“You know you didn’t have to.”

“Oh, but what if I wanted to?”

Kylo pulled out her chair. As they were talking, he was glad that his house had an open concept – he could look at her even when serving food on his kitchen island.

“I figured that Syrah goes well with the steak.” He poured the dark, dark wine into their glasses, after getting permission from Y/N to do so.

She knew shit about wine, so she just nodded, acting as if she knew what Syrah was.

Kylo Ren was too goddamn fancy for her, she thought.

“Oh, you know how to play?” Her eyes fell on a black guitar hidden in the corner of the living room. She took another bite of the vegetables he prepared – claiming it was a special Ren recipe.

“A bit,” he answered truthfully. When he saw Y/N’s pleading eyes, he chuckled, “As soon as we finish eating, angel.”

“You’re a great cook, Kylo Ren.”

“No need to flatter.”

A while after, they were sitting comfortably in the living room – Y/N took up the sofa, her legs resting on the ottoman across her, while Kylo sat on a chair, holding the guitar after playing. He didn’t play for such a long time and his fingers formed new callouses. He’d take the pain any day to make the angel smile. 

“What’s on your mind?” The girl suddenly snapped out of her thoughts at his question.

“Thinking about how mom leaves tomorrow.”

“Already?”

She nodded in response, biting her lower lip. Her head lolled lazily to the side. 

“It’s tiring. I get used to her being here all of the time, and then she just… Dips off to God knows where.”

“What’s up with her boyfriend?”

“He’s waiting for her in New York.”

Kylo hummed in response, standing up so he could put the guitar back to its place.

“What was the last song you played? It was beautiful,” Y/N asked, awe evident in her voice. Kylo was now on the loveseat across from her.

“Little Wing. Dunno why I chose to play one of the hardest songs I know. Reminds me of you.” Kylo’s voice echoed through the empty house. 

“I loved it. I bet it sounds better than the original.”

“Don’t flatter me, Angel.”

“I’m not!” Y/N laughed. 

Kylo thought he dropped dead and he’s at the gates of Heaven because, damn it, how could such a simple sound be so beautiful? Everything about her was. Always will be.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Kylo put his hands in the air, mockingly defensive, his laughter revealing his joke. His rings caught the light from the sunset pouring its colors into Kylo’s living room, making itself known. Y/N didn’t know if she was blinded by that, or if she was blinded by his beautiful smile. Didn’t matter. Her heart constricted in her chest a bit.

Y/N was finally old enough to know why her parents took so long to grab their coats. Why they would ask her to go get ready only to sit around for another round of coffee. What would she tell herself at 10 years old? It’s okay. Sit down with them too. Take in the extra hour with your friend and her family. When you get home, write down every moment in your diary. One day you will be older and you will be waving goodbye to a man, and he will stand in front of the door, and you will look back over your shoulder. His long hair will be blowing in the wind, and he will be beautiful and you will be, for a moment, struck by all of it. What you will feel is so wide and nameless that it will engulf you. And you will think about being 18 and bringing him cookies with your mom and the way you blushed behind your mother’s back. And you will think about all of the people you could have lingered with. And you will wish, more than you have ever felt a wish, that the universe just gave you that – more time to linger. More time to say thank you. I know I have to leave, but I don’t want to leave you. And when I go, I’m leaving a piece of my heart that lingers too.

One more round of coffee. The days are so short and you are so lovely.

[willofyaoi]

😎 Yeeha! I just finished my first Kung Lao x Liu Kang fic. It’s currently 5:49am and I’m just too excited to go to bed. The fic is based on the new movie. Warnings: some angst and yaoi/man-on-man romance, don’t like, don’t read.

Posted on Ao3 as well: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30936179

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Title: A sanctuary of two

Enveloped by endless darkness, Liu Kang found himself alone in the boundaryless Space. The strayed monk looked around anxiously only to find his own body size being shrunken by twofolds, as though he was turned back into a child version of himself. The situation was further proven by the disappearance of his dragon mark. Before Liu Kang could step forward, two vague figures appeared in front him and slowly revealed themselves. Liu Kang wished their faces could stay opaque as those are the ones which have traumatized him deeply in his life; which he wished he would never have to see again. Those faces were of his parents.

“We can’t have you around anymore.”

“You are nothing but a liability.”

“Why...what did I do wrong?” Little Liu Kang sobbed silently. He wanted to chase up his cold parents and demanded an answer but his little legs could not carry him far before the two figures vanished before his teary eyes. The little boy then crumbled to the ground and sobbed loudly.

“LIU KANG!” A strong male voice torn up the darkness. Liu Kang reopened his eyes and found him lying on the bed, inches away from a half-naked, muscled body.

“Shi xiong*.....” the smaller monk panted, drops of sweat rolling down his pale face.

“What’s wrong?” Kung Lao pulled him closed, one hand swiping away the sweat off Liu’s forehead.

“I dreamed of my parents...again.” Liu let out a sigh, a tint of sadness in his tone “The day they left me....their faces...that place....it’s still so vivid....”

“Liu, forget about it, it was all behind you long long time ago.” Kung Lao cupped the beautiful face with both hands and looked sternly into those dark hazel eyes “These people do not even worth your breath.”

“I know, it’s just....” Liu signed, one hand reached up to the palm cupping his right cheek “the feeling of being abandoned, it’s like a shadow that can’t be casted away...” the sentence was cut off abruptly as Liu’s lip get sealed by another. Kung Lao kissed and sucked on those soft lips lightly, knowing how much his partner liked being touched this way and how much it would comfort him. Liu simply responded with moan and his eyes shut.

“I will never leave you, you are the purpose of my life. You know that.”

“And my life only spark for you, shi xiong.”

“Only death do us part.” Kung Lao whispered, pulling Liu into a tight embrace “but before that...” the taller monk stared into the other’s hazel eyes”I will fight for your life till my very last breath.”

“And so will I, shi xiong.”Liu buried his face in Kung Lao’s neck before a faint smile reappearing on his face.

“Feeling better now?”

“Yes....well at least for now.”

“You better be, or else......” Kung Lao suddenly tickled Liu Kang, earning a small yelp from the younger monk.

“No! shi xiong! Stop....hahaha” Liu pleaded, squirming in laughter as Kung Lao’s hands ravaged his body all over, attacking each of the sensitive spots feverishly. Liu was ticklish and sensitive, especially in certain spots and Kung Lao knew it very well and took full advantage of it. Now the taller monk was utterly ravished by the joyful laughter and the alluring flush on Liu’s face.

Seeing his plead was vain, Liu kang snapped the fingers right before the face of the ‘attacker’, flashing a small spark of fire in attempt to fend him off but only to find both of his own wrists being held firmly over his head by the ‘attacker’.

“How dare of you to disrespect your shi xiong!” Kung Lao snarled playfully, flipping Liu Kang on his stomach and started spanking the smaller monk, inciting more laughter.

“Forgive me shi xiong, oh no....hahaha!” Liu’s plead was interrupted as a hand suddenly snuck under his shirt and resumed the tickling, making him squirmed again. The tease continued until Liu’s face flashed bright red like an apple and his chest rose up and down due to a shortage of breath.

“I love you.” Kung Lao kissed the smaller monk’s earlobe before pulling him into another closed embrace.

“I love you too, shi xiong.” Liu rested his head against his lover’s broad chest and slowly drifted to sleep again.

Fin.

Note: in the movie when Kung Lao teleported in to Liu’s rescue. Liu called him “師兄” (Shi xiong) which was subbed in Englsih as ‘cousin’ The term actually means ‘senior academy fellow/apprentice’. Liu was found as an orphan before he joined the Wu Shi academy and met Kung Lao, who was already a student there and that’s why Liu called him ‘shi xiong’. In Chinese culture,It’s one of the respectful titles that we use when we address or refer to the others who are senior than us.

[otterskin]

Inverted Mobius, Mr. Tesseract and The Avatar of Truth

The mystery of the weird collar has deepened, thanks to @nebulousfishgills​ - by which I mean they totally solved it.

To those just joining me, I noticed this in my previous breakdown of the Loki trailer here.

Mr. Mobius, played by Owen Wilson, has an ‘inverted suit’. His collar is an indentation in his suit, rather than going on top of it.

So, first, a scene from Endgame that I seriously did think of when we learned there was a character called ‘Mobius M. Mobius’ in Loki (played by Owen Wilson). And yet I didn’t put this together. Thanks again to nebulousfish for making me realize that these things might not be coincidences.

When Mr. Stark is inventing time travel, he asks his AI to create a depiction of a Mobius Strip, inverted.

Which gets him this:

Anyway, what is a Mobius Strip, and who is Mobius M. Mobius? (Not to be confused with Morbius the Living Vampire, though wouldn’t it be funny if he was mistaken for Mobius M. if this show gets big first?)

I am not a quantum theorist or comic book aficionado by trade, so let’s do a Wikipedia-Fu on it.

In mathematics, a Möbius strip, band, or loop (US: /ˈmoʊbiəs, ˈmeɪ-/ MOH-bee-əs, MAY-, UK: /ˈmɜːbiəs/;[1]German: [ˈmøːbi̯ʊs]), also spelled Mobius or Moebius, is a surface with only one side (when embedded in three-dimensional Euclidean space) and only one boundary curve. The Möbius strip is the simplest non-orientable surface.

An example of a Möbius strip can be created by taking a strip of paper and giving one end a half-twist, then joining the ends to form a loop; its boundary is a simple closed curve which can be traced by a single unknotted string. Any topological space homeomorphic to this example is also called a Möbius strip, allowing for a very wide variety of geometric realizations as surfaces with a definite size and shape. For example, any rectangle can be glued left-edge to right-edge with a reversal of orientation. Some, but not all, of these can be smoothly modeled as surfaces in Euclidean space. A closely related, but not homeomorphic, surface is the complete open Möbius band, a boundaryless surface in which the width of the strip is extended infinitely to become a Euclidean line.A half-twist clockwise gives an embedding of the Möbius strip which cannot be moved or stretched to give the half-twist counterclockwise; thus, a Möbius strip embedded in Euclidean space is a chiral object with right- or left-handedness. The Möbius strip can also be embedded by twisting the strip any odd number of times, or by knotting and twisting the strip before joining its ends.

A Möbius strip does not self-intersect but its projection in 2 dimensions does.

Uh....right. Well, that clears everything up, doesn’t it?

Let’s crib off someone else’s work. Thanks to Thomas Wong on Medium, I was able to understand this a little better.

A Möbius strip is just a strip of paper, turned and taped together. It it only has one side, so an ant walking along the strip eventually returns to where he started. If we metaphorically interpret the ant, not as returning to a point in space, but a point in time, then it alludes to time travel.

...

As previously discussed, after a measurement, the quantum mixture (half born and half never born) becomes a definite state (born or never born). Finding the “spectral decomposition” is to find all the possible energies (eigenvalues) and states. Using these, one can determine how a quantum object evolves with time.

Combining this with the metaphoric interpretation of the Möbius strip, it could be that Stark found how to make quantum objects evolve such that they revisit a point in time, hence time travel.

Okay, that’s a little easier to understand. So how does this relate to the character Mobius M. Mobius, aside from him being named after the strip and the (apparently antiquated) ideas about time travel?

Well, he was based on Marvel Comics Legend Mark Gruenwald, a guy known for his passion for the lore of the comics, which he knew in innate detail. He even wrote the Official Handbooks and whatnot. Likewise, Mr. Mobius is a stickler for detail and one of the few members of the TVA even allowed a face - although it is off the rack, as he’s one an infinite number of clones (god I love the TVA so much already, it’s heaven for a Douglas Addams fan like me).

Despite being a clone, he rose through the ranks and is nearly the top guy, serving only underneath Mr. Alternity (and I am not familiar with these comics so feel free to correct me). Mr. Alternity has almost no comics history, but is based on editor Tom Brevoort.

There are several other misters, all of them near-identical to ‘Moby’. Mr. Orobourous, Mr. Paradox, Mr. Tesseract (!) and Mr. Oburos. They are also minor characters, but let’s look at all these names.

Clearly they are named after quantum theories of some-sort or another.

Mr. Mobius: Mobius Strip Theory - the idea that, essentially, is about the shape of time itself and the theory of traveling along that shape.

Mr. Alternity : Alternative universes

Mr. Ouroboros: A divine figure representing the beginning and the end of time in an endless cycle of death and rebirth.

Mr. Oburos - I’m not sure, but I think this is a variant of Ouroboros. 

Mr. Paradox - Temporal paradox, causal loops - ex. The Grandfather Paradox

Mr. Tesseract - An object that exists in 4 dimensions. Time is often called the fourth dimension.

Obviously that last one is interesting, considering how the Tesseract will be the start of our adventure. The Cosmic Cube was renamed for the MCU, and in the comics has no relation to this minor character.

But what if it now does?

What if Tony has caused a change in the very appearance of Mr. Mobius when he inverted the Mobius Strip - literally inverting his clothing because he changed the shape of the Mobius - does that mean that these seemingly human-looking misters are in fact some sort of avatars for aspects of time itself? And if Mr. Tesseract is representative of how space and time intersect in the fourth dimension, wouldn’t a rogue god twisting space and time with the device that shares his name cause him some affect? Perhaps why the TVA noticed something was amiss to begin with.

This would be a departure from the comics, but the characters have almost no history there. They are ripe for new ideas.

Or, then again, since Loki will be working for the TVA - perhaps he’s the one who becomes ‘Mr. Tesseract’?

But continuing with that ‘Avatar of Aspects’ idea, let’s get away from this sausagefest for a second and visit my next newest favourite character -

I’m guessing she’s one of the Justices of the TVA. What gives it away? The imperious look, the giant oaken table, or the fact that I’m suddenly self-conscious when she looks at me? It’s the last one, of course. She’s a natural judge.

Of the named TVA judges, there’s :

Justice Goodwill, Justice Hope, Justice Liberty, Justice Love, Justice Might, Justice Mills, Justice Peace and Justice Truth.

Could they also possibly be avatars of their respective aspects?

If I had to guess, I’d say this is Justice Truth, as pairing up Loki with an avatar of Truth seems like it’d be a smashing good time, similar to how he was paired with Verity Willis in the comics. She might even be a composite character with Verity.

Verity’s power is detecting and seeing through all lies and illusions. I think this powerset will be given to Justice Truth, except instead of deriving it from a magic ring that she swallowed, she’d simply be the actual ‘Embodiment of Truth’ - and let’s get real here, when I said ‘Avatars of Aspects’, I was using that clunky phrase because the more obvious one - God of - is already ‘taken’. So Justice Truth may well be the ‘God of Truth’, as it were.

I think she’ll end up in something of a buddy-comedy with Loki, giving him someone to bounce off against who literally cuts through his carefully crafted veneer.

I’m reminded of a great quote from Taika Waititi when he was talking about what he wanted to do with Loki in Ragnarok:

“(He’s) someone who tries so hard to embody this idea of the tortured artist, this tortured, gothy orphan...It’s too tiring trying to be like that,” he says. “And, most humans, we get over ourselves, we get to that point where we’re like, ‘man, being a tortured artist is actually, like, a lot of work. Maybe I should just be real and present, and just be me, and I don’t have to be a tortured artist to be interesting, I can just be a f*cking weird New Zealander and that’s enough.”

...I think Taika is a living Loki, tbh, ha ha. No wonder he gets it.

Waititi, Yost, Pearson and Kyle did great work to cut through Loki’s illusions, both with dialogue and the visual allegory of his projections being dispelled by handy thrown objects, culminating in the very sweet ‘I’m here,’ scene at the end of the film. Loki seems to be much more open and expressive at the end of that film, and it seems like a weight has lifted off his shoulders.

But while this new Loki (Loki 2.0? Loki’s Show’s Loki? Loki II? Lokii? Lokii.) is shown a clip show of Ragnarok (one I previously theorized will be deliberately incomplete), that’s quite different from actually experiencing it, and he’ll be as performative as he was in Avengers and Thor 2. Instead of processing that ‘lack of presence’ as he did in Ragnarok, which came about as a result of Thor finally seeing through Loki’s illusions (guess he doesn’t fall for it anymore) as a result of their long history together, I suspect the band-aid will be torn off much more harshly by a total stranger who nonetheless simply sees through him.

Loki in general has a bad relationship with the truth (see the famous Vault Confrontation scene), and literally putting him on trial before the Truth Herself would certainly be enough to get him to switch from this phony expression:

To this one:

That’s not much of a facade there.

It’s not the same character arc as Ragnarok, but it does get us to a similar place, albeit in a darker and less healing way for Loki. I mean Lokii.

Anyhow. That’s what I got out of this thing.

[boykeats]

Afraid of Nothing by Keaton St. James

(patreon)

Happy first day of pride month, everyone!

[poem text: june baptizes me in rivers of sunlight and i burst to the surface dripping pollen-green. the air shivers under the weight of so much heat. the wind moves slow as a puddle of water, gets tangled in the red of the rhubarb bush and stays there for hours. even the splintered blue shadows of the oak branches melt into each other, boundaryless and bubbling like a stretch of tar. in the hot shade i dream a man’s lips brushing against the scars of my shoulder blades. he trails his fingers down my spine and thirty three finches unfurl from my skin, yellow and wet as bone marrow, stretching new wings. the dream-finches climb all over his arms, tug at his sweat-slicked curls, while we laugh and laugh and i feel afraid of nothing, not even the indigo prickle of a brewing thunderstorm, not even sitting up shirtless to kiss him through the damp slurry of birdsong and heartbeats lifting up, up into the endlessness of the sky. my lover pulls a tangerine out of his pocket, coaxes away the peel with his delicate, orange-stained fingers, lifts half the sticky, oozing dream-slices to my mouth. together, glowing violet with our hunger, we feast and feast. /end poem text.]

[anilkhare]

What You Need to Know About IT Contractors

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management (BCM) have become blurred at a profound level. Technological change and organizational, global and competitive have obliterated the old professional models and obliterated the traditional framework for career progression and success. The boundary of boundless career planning has become permeable to every profession, every industry, and every geographic region. The need for fast results-oriented solutions has resulted in organizational structures that are not static but ever-evolving.

A new concept has emerged – boundaryless career management. This concept is a generic approach to career planning and encompasses all aspects of the professional life: recruitment, performance management, individual development, and training and development. In this broad sense, boundaryless careers refer to any career that does not fit into a pre-defined set of fixed parameters. Just because a field has a ‘boundary,’ it does not mean that a candidate applying for a position in that sector will be accepted or qualified for the job. Instead, all fields are affected by a myriad of forces and candidates who do not fit the expected parameters are placed in a pool of candidates that require different but still relevant strategies for their professional development.

All boundaryless careers are also, at root, boundless. In other words, they are careers that involve personal changes that take place over time, as opposed to a singular, settled career state. An example of a boundaryless career perspective would be physical disability, which often renders a qualified candidate incapable of performing certain tasks. If an individual with physical disability were to seek a career in law enforcement, he or she would not necessarily meet the minimum requirements of the job. Rather, the person with physical disability might undergo a series of personal career transitions across many different employment positions until he or she is able to function in the workplace.

Psychological flexibility, on the other hand, refers to the ability to adjust to changes in circumstances. In most boundaryless careers, career opportunities may be static or unchanging; thus, workers may have little room for career-oriented development due to stagnating pay levels, career prospects, or job security. Likewise, psychological flexibility presents workers with the opportunity to gain a wider range of perspective and experiences. For example, workers in IT can pursue positions in accounting, finance, human resources, or information technology, among other career opportunities.

In contrast, IT contractors enjoy flexible career options that give them the chance to work in a plethora of sectors. These include IT support, desktop publishing, graphic design, web design, programming, marketing, and software development, among other possibilities. These workers benefit from seamless integration with corporate strategy, as well as rapid career growth. In addition to these benefits, IT contractors are also often paid on time and not at the expense of other perks such as health care benefits or other employee perks.

According to the Merriam-Websters, the definition of “a boundaryless career” is “a broad category that includes both endless varieties of professions, unlimited degrees of freedom, and the ability to pursue work in virtually any field.” Therefore, IT contractors share many common characteristics with boundaryless careers. They are multilingual, multidealed, flexible, and have the ability to meet deadlines. However, IT contractors differ from career builders in that they often specialize in a particular area. The most common IT contractors are those involved in the following areas:

Due to the fact that the gig economy and the global marketplace are changing rapidly, there is a need for organizations to consider different models for their internal worker competency development. One option is to use the traditional model of hiring people according to an individual’s talents and skills. Another option is to develop mobile workforce solutions that allow an organization to tap into mobile workforce talent on the go. Both strategies, however, create constraints that limit potential career opportunities.

In a recent white paper released by the Center for Strategic Leadership & Employment Research, researchers suggested that IT contractors should be viewed as boundaryless workers with multiple skills. According to this white paper, IT workers should not be limited to one particular IT skill, but rather they should possess a broad range of skills. This allows the IT contractors to leverage their talents and their skills by turning those skills into new business opportunities on the fly. According to the zeitz et al, borderless careers offer workers the opportunity to make a significant living income, but only if they also have a strong leadership skill set and the drive to engage in a wide variety of career options on the go.

[orsolya-balog-blog]

Art - especially the modern, boundaryless forms of it - is often the material expression of the soul. Do you think the soul is capturable? Do you think it can be translated, squeezed into,  manifested by the carefully choreographed movement of bodies, broken down by the conventional grid of languages, any language or any form or imagery? Known, understood and used by us? It`s energy, a set of atomic particles in a constant flux, morphing from one substance to another, in a space of metaphysical interplay of endless possibilities.

[chitram]

Is ChitramTV the Future of Indian Television in Europe?

As more South Asians migrate abroad, the desire to access Indian television only grows. While early settlers relied on sketchy bootleg boxes, slow streams or expensive satellite setups, meet ChitramTV - the new gold standard for enjoying Desi channels outside India.

ChitramTV delivers crystal-clear live TV combined with smooth streaming across devices. This future-facing platform makes it simple and affordable to reconnect with your favorite Tamil, Hindi, Telugu and other Indian channels while living overseas.

But what exactly makes ChitramTV the future of Indian television for Europe's expat community? Let's analyze the key benefits.

Flawless Video Quality

Gone are the days of grainy illegal streams and constant buffering. ChitramTV harnesses cutting-edge CDN technology to deliver lag-free HD streaming with exceptional clarity.

You get sharp visuals, vivid colors, and smooth motion whether watching high-action sports or fast-paced soap operas. Video automatically adapts to screen size and internet speed.

This pristine picture beats outdated satellite broadcasts, costing a fraction of expensive DTH setups and contracts. Expect a cinema-like quality that makes shows captivating.

Robust Channel Selection

ChitramTV offers unmatched variety, catering to every language and genre. Access over 300+ Tamil, Hindi, Telugu, Malayalam, Kannada and other regional Indian channels - more than typical European carriers provide.

From breaking news to vintage movies, hard-hitting dramas to lighthearted game shows, devotional songs to sensational sports - ChitramTV delivers channel depth no rival platform can match today.

Selection expands constantly based on user demand making sure beloved classics and new sensations are available abroad.

Built for Europe

As a continental company based in Europe, ChitramTV servers are geo-located for blazing speeds across the region. This localized infrastructure trumps overseas streaming sites prone to sluggishness and geo-restrictions.

The platform is designed exclusively to serve EU nations. So, unlike Indian-based rivals, you avoid censorship of sensitive content or programming delays. Video streams in sync with Indian channel schedules.

ChitramTV also accepts convenient EUR payments, and European customer support dismantles barriers to overseas desis.

Device Flexibility

Today's viewer needs flexibility. Unlike complex satellite setups that hog the TV, ChitramTV works across both big and small screens for ultimate convenience.

Slim apps seamlessly run on smartphones, tablets, computers, streaming hardware and modern television sets with Chromecast built-in.

Pair with HDMI cables or wireless screencasting to watch on large displays. Downloads take minutes - no costly hardware or installations are needed. Portable entertainment is now truly achievable abroad.

Affordable Pricing

DTH packages in Europe jack up rates, knowing customers have few alternatives. But ChitramTV makes Indian TV economically viable without constant bill hikes or confusing long-term contracts.

Plans start from just €7.99/month for 200+ Tamil channels, with larger bundles having incredible value. Annual options knock 48% off versus pricey competitors!

As an independent broadcaster designed for Indians abroad, ChitramTV costs less than major players. Expect substantial savings with similar quality but greater flexibility.

Final Verdict

Fusing next-gen technology with sharp content curation and an affordable EEC platform, ChitramTV pioneers Indian television's global reach. Perfect picture quality, endless entertainment variety and boundaryless viewing clearly make this the future.

Satellite TV fails to innovate as quickly while rival streaming apps lag behind Europe's unique needs. But ChitramTV aims higher - rapidly enhancing infrastructure to match subscriber demand abroad.

For South Asian immigrants across Germany, France, Italy, and beyond, this channel changer sustains cultural connections in an accessible way.

Ready to make the switch? Discover for yourself why ChitramTV is the ultimate live Indian TV solution for Europe by starting your free trial today!

[anilkhare]

What You Need to Know About IT Contractors

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management (BCM) have become blurred at a profound level. Technological change and organizational, global and competitive have obliterated the old professional models and obliterated the traditional framework for career progression and success. The boundary of boundless career planning has become permeable to every profession, every industry, and every geographic region. The need for fast results-oriented solutions has resulted in organizational structures that are not static but ever-evolving.

A new concept has emerged – boundaryless career management. This concept is a generic approach to career planning and encompasses all aspects of the professional life: recruitment, performance management, individual development, and training and development. In this broad sense, boundaryless careers refer to any career that does not fit into a pre-defined set of fixed parameters. Just because a field has a ‘boundary,’ it does not mean that a candidate applying for a position in that sector will be accepted or qualified for the job. Instead, all fields are affected by a myriad of forces and candidates who do not fit the expected parameters are placed in a pool of candidates that require different but still relevant strategies for their professional development.

All boundaryless careers are also, at root, boundless. In other words, they are careers that involve personal changes that take place over time, as opposed to a singular, settled career state. An example of a boundaryless career perspective would be physical disability, which often renders a qualified candidate incapable of performing certain tasks. If an individual with physical disability were to seek a career in law enforcement, he or she would not necessarily meet the minimum requirements of the job. Rather, the person with physical disability might undergo a series of personal career transitions across many different employment positions until he or she is able to function in the workplace.

Psychological flexibility, on the other hand, refers to the ability to adjust to changes in circumstances. In most boundaryless careers, career opportunities may be static or unchanging; thus, workers may have little room for career-oriented development due to stagnating pay levels, career prospects, or job security. Likewise, psychological flexibility presents workers with the opportunity to gain a wider range of perspective and experiences. For example, workers in IT can pursue positions in accounting, finance, human resources, or information technology, among other career opportunities.

In contrast, IT contractors enjoy flexible career options that give them the chance to work in a plethora of sectors. These include IT support, desktop publishing, graphic design, web design, programming, marketing, and software development, among other possibilities. These workers benefit from seamless integration with corporate strategy, as well as rapid career growth. In addition to these benefits, IT contractors are also often paid on time and not at the expense of other perks such as health care benefits or other employee perks.

According to the Merriam-Websters, the definition of “a boundaryless career” is “a broad category that includes both endless varieties of professions, unlimited degrees of freedom, and the ability to pursue work in virtually any field.” Therefore, IT contractors share many common characteristics with boundaryless careers. They are multilingual, multidealed, flexible, and have the ability to meet deadlines. However, IT contractors differ from career builders in that they often specialize in a particular area. The most common IT contractors are those involved in the following areas:

Due to the fact that the gig economy and the global marketplace are changing rapidly, there is a need for organizations to consider different models for their internal worker competency development. One option is to use the traditional model of hiring people according to an individual’s talents and skills. Another option is to develop mobile workforce solutions that allow an organization to tap into mobile workforce talent on the go. Both strategies, however, create constraints that limit potential career opportunities.

In a recent white paper released by the Center for Strategic Leadership & Employment Research, researchers suggested that IT contractors should be viewed as boundaryless workers with multiple skills. According to this white paper, IT workers should not be limited to one particular IT skill, but rather they should possess a broad range of skills. This allows the IT contractors to leverage their talents and their skills by turning those skills into new business opportunities on the fly. According to the zeitz et al, borderless careers offer workers the opportunity to make a significant living income, but only if they also have a strong leadership skill set and the drive to engage in a wide variety of career options on the go.

[anilkhare]

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management (BCM)... By Dr Anil Khare (www.anilkhare.com)

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management (BCM) have become blurred at a profound level. Technological change and organizational, global and competitive have obliterated the old professional models and obliterated the traditional framework for career progression and success. The boundary of boundless career planning has become permeable to every profession, every industry, and every geographic region. The need for fast results-oriented solutions has resulted in organizational structures that are not static but ever-evolving.

A new concept has emerged - boundaryless career management. This concept is a generic approach to career planning and encompasses all aspects of the professional life: recruitment, performance management, individual development, and training and development. In this broad sense, boundaryless careers refer to any career that does not fit into a pre-defined set of fixed parameters. Just because a field has a 'boundary,' it does not mean that a candidate applying for a position in that sector will be accepted or qualified for the job. Instead, all fields are affected by a myriad of forces and candidates who do not fit the expected parameters are placed in a pool of candidates that require different but still relevant strategies for their professional development.

All boundaryless careers are also, at root, boundless. In other words, they are careers that involve personal changes that take place over time, as opposed to a singular, settled career state. An example of a boundaryless career perspective would be physical disability, which often renders a qualified candidate incapable of performing certain tasks. If an individual with physical disability were to seek a career in law enforcement, he or she would not necessarily meet the minimum requirements of the job. Rather, the person with a physical disability might undergo a series of personal career transitions across many different employment positions until he or she is able to function in the workplace.

Psychological flexibility, on the other hand, refers to the ability to adjust to changes in circumstances. In most boundaryless careers, career opportunities may be static or unchanging; thus, workers may have little room for career-oriented development due to stagnating pay levels, career prospects, or job security. Likewise, psychological flexibility presents workers with the opportunity to gain a wider range of perspective and experiences. For example, workers in IT can pursue positions in accounting, finance, human resources, or information technology, among other career opportunities.

In contrast, IT contractors enjoy flexible career options that give them the chance to work in a plethora of sectors. These include IT support, desktop publishing, graphic design, web design, programming, marketing, and software development, among other possibilities. These workers benefit from seamless integration with corporate strategy, as well as rapid career growth. In addition to these benefits, IT contractors are also often paid on time and not at the expense of other perks such as health care benefits or other employee perks.

According to the Merriam-Websters, the definition of "a boundaryless career" is "a broad category that includes both endless varieties of professions, unlimited degrees of freedom, and the ability to pursue work in virtually any field." Therefore, IT contractors share many common characteristics with boundaryless careers. They are multilingual, multidealed, flexible, and have the ability to meet deadlines. However, IT contractors differ from career builders in that they often specialize in a particular area. The most common IT contractors are those involved in the following areas:

Due to the fact that the gig economy and the global marketplace are changing rapidly, there is a need for organizations to consider different models for their internal worker competency development. One option is to use the traditional model of hiring people according to an individual's talents and skills. Another option is to develop mobile workforce solutions that allow an organization to tap into mobile workforce talent on the go. Both strategies, however, create constraints that limit potential career opportunities.

In a recent white paper released by the Center for Strategic Leadership & Employment Research, researchers suggested that IT contractors should be viewed as boundaryless workers with multiple skills. According to this white paper, IT workers should not be limited to one particular IT skill, but rather they should possess a broad range of skills. This allows the IT contractors to leverage their talents and their skills by turning those skills into new business opportunities on the fly. According to the zeitz et al, borderless careers offer workers the opportunity to make a significant living income, but only if they also have a strong leadership skill set and the drive to engage in a wide variety of career options on the go.

[anilkhare]

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management... By Dr Anil Khare (www.anilkhare.com)

The boundaries of Boundaryless Career Change Management (BCM) have become blurred at a profound level. Technological change and organizational, global and competitive have obliterated the old professional models and obliterated the traditional framework for career progression and success. The boundary of boundless career planning has become permeable to every profession, every industry, and every geographic region. The need for fast results-oriented solutions has resulted in organizational structures that are not static but ever-evolving.

A new concept has emerged - boundaryless career management. This concept is a generic approach to career planning and encompasses all aspects of the professional life: recruitment, performance management, individual development, and training and development. In this broad sense, boundaryless careers refer to any career that does not fit into a pre-defined set of fixed parameters. Just because a field has a 'boundary,' it does not mean that a candidate applying for a position in that sector will be accepted or qualified for the job. Instead, all fields are affected by a myriad of forces and candidates who do not fit the expected parameters are placed in a pool of candidates that require different but still relevant strategies for their professional development.

All boundaryless careers are also, at root, boundless. In other words, they are careers that involve personal changes that take place over time, as opposed to a singular, settled career state. An example of a boundaryless career perspective would be physical disability, which often renders a qualified candidate incapable of performing certain tasks. If an individual with physical disability were to seek a career in law enforcement, he or she would not necessarily meet the minimum requirements of the job. Rather, the person with physical disability might undergo a series of personal career transitions across many different employment positions until he or she is able to function in the workplace.

Psychological flexibility, on the other hand, refers to the ability to adjust to changes in circumstances. In most boundaryless careers, career opportunities may be static or unchanging; thus, workers may have little room for career-oriented development due to stagnating pay levels, career prospects, or job security. Likewise, psychological flexibility presents workers with the opportunity to gain a wider range of perspective and experiences. For example, workers in IT can pursue positions in accounting, finance, human resources, or information technology, among other career opportunities.

In contrast, IT contractors enjoy flexible career options that give them the chance to work in a plethora of sectors. These include IT support, desktop publishing, graphic design, web design, programming, marketing, and software development, among other possibilities. These workers benefit from seamless integration with corporate strategy, as well as rapid career growth. In addition to these benefits, IT contractors are also often paid on time and not at the expense of other perks such as health care benefits or other employee perks.

According to the Merriam-Websters, the definition of "a boundaryless career" is "a broad category that includes both endless varieties of professions, unlimited degrees of freedom, and the ability to pursue work in virtually any field." Therefore, IT contractors share many common characteristics with boundaryless careers. They are multilingual, multidealed, flexible, and have the ability to meet deadlines. However, IT contractors differ from career builders in that they often specialize in a particular area. The most common IT contractors are those involved in the following areas:

Due to the fact that the gig economy and the global marketplace are changing rapidly, there is a need for organizations to consider different models for their internal worker competency development. One option is to use the traditional model of hiring people according to an individual's talents and skills. Another option is to develop mobile workforce solutions that allow an organization to tap into mobile workforce talent on the go. Both strategies, however, create constraints that limit potential career opportunities.

In a recent white paper released by the Center for Strategic Leadership & Employment Research, researchers suggested that IT contractors should be viewed as boundaryless workers with multiple skills. According to this white paper, IT workers should not be limited to one particular IT skill, but rather they should possess a broad range of skills. This allows the IT contractors to leverage their talents and their skills by turning those skills into new business opportunities on the fly. According to the zeitz et al, borderless careers offer workers the opportunity to make a significant living income, but only if they also have a strong leadership skill set and the drive to engage in a wide variety of career options on the go.