#gavin van horn

[lesbianhallieparker]

i want this so badly but it’s so expensive 😭

[simplegenius042]

Character Alignment

From left to right going top to bottom.

Archangel Metatron (Wings And Horns) -> The Archangel of Life who had been tasked with preserving the Soulmate System and bringing Xiang & Jezebel Ba'al in for disrupting the system.

Leviticus (The UnTitledverse) - A lawyer of the Time Court, had a disdain towards Timekeeper but ultimately upholds honor and goodwill above all else.

Joaquin Cobalt (The UnTitledverse) - A young adolescent who got lost in the Multiverse before rising up to become a leading and respected member of the Omniscient Rule.

Ezekiel (The Silver Chronicles) - A surviving Tumultite member, decades later (especially after the nukes drop in 2019) becomes Thomas Rush's Captain of Security.

Benny the Révolutionnaire (The UnTitledverse) - The seventh-borne Eldritch, was made to assist Zachariah at Fate's Table, however was exiled to the Void. Not that it stopped him.

Silva Omar (The Silver Chronicles) - The Junior Deputy of Hope County, Silva has fought to protect plenty of loved ones from the likes of the Congregation of Adam's Guard, the Apostles of Zachariah, the Project at Eden's Gate and 17 years after the bombs drop in Montana, the Highwaymen.

Ortega "Ore" Brantley (A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore) - A human-Displacement hybrid (a result of a tryst between Responder Tiffany Brantley and a Displacement called Arcane Urias in 2105), Ore has lived through the Wasteland for a long while and is on a mission to kill his father Urias after the latter killed his friends. He's also Ress' older brother.

Gavin Turquoise (The Silver Chronicles) - A vigilante-turned-lawyer, after he took down the organization behind the Dark Web, he adopted a child named Schrödinger and began a feud with Eden's Gate because he didn't like their vibe (the murder and kidnapping were a bonus he could use against them in court).

Timekeeper (The UnTitledverse) - A Time Lord droid created to overlook Time and utilize the Time Watch. Wishes to change the corruption he's noticed bleed inside the Time Bureau Authority.

Haoyu Anabuki (Life, Despair & Monsters) - A human-Displacement hybrid and the half-sibling of Monika, wishes to just hang out with their sister but gets dragged into being a good person.

H.O.S.T (The Time Guard volumes) - The warden of the Time Prism (a prison sub-dimension in Time), he joined the Time Guard on their adventures. He is unprepared for their unorthodox illegalities.

Icarus Galatos & Hatsukami Hinode & Xavier Tulip & Hatter (Life, Despair & Monsters) - Hatter and his human Avatars, while not feeling beholden to the law, do their best to help it any way they can.

Kamski Neon (The Silver Chronicles) - While he does care for Silva, he doesn't not care for everyone else, and believes anything is fair game when dealing with Prophets and their cults, regardless of right or wrong and even if Silva is hurt in the process (however he will not live with himself if she died).

Mordecai Callaghan (The UnTitledverse) - Also known as "The Huntsman", Mordecai only commits amoral acts (like bounty hunting) and immoral acts (like child trafficking) to survive and to earn his freedom from Madame Callaghan and C.Y.P.R.U.S.

Maddilyn Darling (The UnTitledverse) - An outlaw apart of the Van Der Linde Gang, Maddilyn follows Dutch closely. However this does change later in 1899.

Ernesto Stallone (The Silver Chronicles) - An Enforcer Courser Guard (pretty much a senior Enforcer who has Adam's permission to leave the Archipiélagos and scout out other lands... or hunt down escapees and deserters) of the Congregation of Adam's Guard, Ernesto is not beholden to the darker aspects of Adam's laws but does believe Adam's word that the world outside the Archipiélagos are nothing but sinful. Probably the most amoral Enforcer but the least immoral one.

Jeremiah (The UnTitledverse) - A Time Agent who honestly doesn't give a fuck about the law, and just most fucks around and finds out. Jeremiah is apart of Khronos' corruption though.

Father Adam Omar (The Silver Chronicles) - Adam is delusional and fucking horrible. He is the worst part of this hedonist.

Jester (The UnTitledverse) - This guy is a scamming dealmaker who will screw over whoever is not the winning side.

Grimes the Cruel (The Silver Chronicles) - Leader of the Deserters of the Holy Triad, Grimes is nothing more than a bloodthirsty and warmongering killer who follows a twisted version of what was an honorable code.

Zachariah the Orchestrator (The UnTitledverse) - The second-borne Eldritch and the Hand at Fate's Table, Zachariah has a disdainful view on humanity and wishes to control and punish them for their existence.

Edward Carmine (The UnTitledverse) - A petty industrialist and robotics expert, he craves power over everyone and believes himself to be the superior human. Edward also cannot let go of a grudge, going to insane lengths to settle the score (even if it puts his own life in danger).

Arcane Urias (A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore) - Urias is a Displacement and the founder of the Occult, he has no desire to understand morality and only pursues his own goals to satisfy his power hunger.

Crawford Klaus (The UnTitledverse & The Silver Chronicles) - Klaus is the CEO of a pharmaceutical company that has drugged an entire town in England and sells multiple overpriced medication and drugs to less than moral people. He also fucks over anyone he doesn't like... such as the ICA.

The Paragon of Extinction (Original Works) - A first-generation Old Kin, who was around during the Extermination Purge Wars. It is the ultimate act of evil and is constantly reborn and reincarnated in many worlds and once it manifests consciousness in the reincarnated body, it gains its power back and proceeds to do everything in its power to cause total extinction in the world. Killing it does nothing... it will simply reincarnate in another world and do it again because that is what its purpose is.

[infactforgetthepark]

[Free eBook] The Way of the Coyote: Shared Journeys in the Urban Wilds by Gavin Van Horn [Nature Travelogue Philosophy]

The Way of the Coyote: Shared Journeys in the Urban Wilds by Gavin Van Horn, the director of the Cultures of Conservation for the Center for Humans and Nature nonprofit focusing on conservation ethics, is a nature travelogue book, free for a limited time courtesy of publisher the University of Chicago Press.

This is their featured Free Book of the Month for July, and is a combination of nature appreciation, travelogue, and philosophical meditation upon what it means to co-exist, as the author explores the small wild spaces found within big cities, and the species that manage to make their living in the urban landscapes. You can also watch a short video of the author discussing the themes of this book via his UCP author page.

Offered free worldwide through the end of July, available directly from the publisher's website.

Currently free @ [the university's dedicated promo page] (https://press.uchicago.edu/books/freeEbook.html) (ePub available with download options for both Adobe Digital Editions and Readium DRM, follow instructions provided on download link page, requires newsletter signup with valid email address), and you can read more about the book on its regular catalogue page.

Description A hiking trail through majestic mountains. A raw, unpeopled wilderness stretching as far as the eye can see. These are the settings we associate with our most famous books about nature. But Gavin Van Horn isn’t most nature writers. He lives and works not in some perfectly remote cabin in the woods but in a city—a big city. And that city has offered him something even more valuable than solitude: a window onto the surprising attractiveness of cities to animals. What was once in his mind essentially a nature-free blank slate turns out to actually be a bustling place where millions of wild things roam. He came to realize that our own paths are crisscrossed by the tracks and flyways of endangered black-crowned night herons, Cooper’s hawks, brown bats, coyotes, opossums, white-tailed deer, and many others who thread their lives ably through our own.

With The Way of Coyote, Gavin Van Horn reveals the stupendous diversity of species that can flourish in urban landscapes like Chicago. That isn’t to say city living is without its challenges. Chicago has been altered dramatically over a relatively short timespan—its soils covered by concrete, its wetlands drained and refilled, its river diverted and made to flow in the opposite direction. The stories in The Way of Coyote occasionally lament lost abundance, but they also point toward incredible adaptability and resilience, such as that displayed by beavers plying the waters of human-constructed canals or peregrine falcons raising their young atop towering skyscrapers. Van Horn populates his stories with a remarkable range of urban wildlife and probes the philosophical and religious dimensions of what it means to coexist, drawing frequently from the wisdom of three unconventional guides—wildlife ecologist Aldo Leopold, Taoist philosopher Lao Tzu, and the North American trickster figure Coyote. Ultimately, Van Horn sees vast potential for a more vibrant collective of ecological citizens as we take our cues from landscapes past and present.

Part urban nature travelogue, part philosophical reflection on the role wildlife can play in waking us to a shared sense of place and fate, The Way of Coyote is a deeply personal journey that questions how we might best reconcile our own needs with the needs of other creatures in our shared urban habitats.

[rjzimmerman]

Gavin Van Horn’s book, “The Way Of Coyote,” published by the University of Chicago Press, will be released next month. Gavin is with the Center for Humans & Nature, based in Chicago. I frequently post links to essays published by the Center, including several written by him. Gavin is one of those under-the-radar writers, but once you read his stuff, you’re hooked.

Description of the video, which is a little over three minutes long, and includes some excellent clips of Chicago and its bits and pieces of nature (the “Chicago Wilderness”):

Author Gavin Van Horn leads us on a walk through the themes of his new book, The Way of Coyote: Shared Journeys in the Urban Wilds (University of Chicago Press, 2018). The book explores how wildlife can awaken urban dwellers to a shared sense of place and fate, and in this video trailer, we meet many of the wild creatures who offer parallels to Van Horn's own efforts to adapt as an urban transplant to Chicago. 

[wickcdcreations]

hey ! i’d love to get the ball rolling on here again so instead of making a bunch of open starters i’m gonna list a bunch of muses i have muse for under the read more. if any of these interest you, please reply with which one you want and i’ll make a personal starter for you !

-

adonis romilly  //  drake  //  club owner  //  bottom + switch.

alexis de romay  //  manu rios  // spanish marquis  //  bottom + switch

barnaby talbot  //  julian morris  //  history teacher  //  bottom + switch

benji salazar  //  froy gutierrez  //  college student  //  bottom + submissive

brett mccarthy  //  gavin steinhouse  //  pro boxer  //  versatile + switch

cain woodhouse  //  jon bernthal  //  hit man  //  bottom + dominant

caleb winslow  //  travis kelce  //  pro football player  //  top + switch

damian hanover  //  rege-jean page  //  socialite  //  bottom + switch

dmitri markov  //  tom hardy  //  p*mp  //  versatile + dominant

ethan van kirk  //  jacob elordi  //  college student  //  top + dominant

frank harrington  //  jeffrey dean morgan  //  police commissioner  //  versatile + dom

hardy belmont  //  colin donnell  //  bar owner  //  bottom + submissive

henrik von binzer  //  eli brown  //  socialite  //  versatile + submissive

juan esparza  //  wilmer valderrama  //  fbi agent  //  top + dominant

kasper van horn  //  trevor donovan  //  actor  //  bottom + switch

nathan macnamara  //  michael evans-behling  //  uni cheerleader  //  bottom + switch

peyton talbot  //  cody christian  //  uni cheerleader  //  versatile + dominant

rafael flores  //  michael trevino  //  boxer  //  versatile + dominant

rajeev khan  //  rahul kohli  //  medical examiner  //  versatile + submissive

spencer mccarthy  //  adam huber  //  freelance journalist  //  bottom + switch

trevor hornsby  //  matt bomer  //  florist  //  bottom + submissive

warren malinsky  //  matt czuchry  //  defense attorney  //  bottom + switch

xavier cardoza  //  jack gilinsky  //  college student  //  top + dominant

[protoslacker]

Can love, in its unaccountable weirdness, hope to overcome a culture of individualism built on denying all our millions of kinships and dependencies? That is our central drama now.

Richard Powers in Emergence Magazine. A LITTLE MORE THAN KIN

Richard Powers reaches beyond the cold calculus of kin selection to look at how human beings find kinship with nonhuman relatives and how stories can reveal our shared fate.

This essay is an excerpt from Kinship: Belonging in a World of Relations—a five-volume collection edited by Gavin Van Horn, Robin Wall Kimmerer, and John Hausdoerffer.

via Shrinkrants

[peantutbutter]

69. “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.” with Michael, Gavin and Jeremy please!

 69. (nice) “We are not going to steal someone’s dog.”

Trigger Warning for brief mentions of animal abuse. Nothing is graphically explicit and everything turns out ok and the dog is rescued, but the thought of an injured animal is triggering or otherwise too emotionally distressing for you, go ahead and keep scrolling

The Mad Lad’s Animal Rescue Agency [ao3]

It’s odd.

As far as Michael knows, both Gavin and Jeremy are what he would consider cat people. Pets aren’t allowed in the penthouse, of course, but both get swept up in conversations about what they would name potential future cats, and both go out of their way to set out food and water for the strays of the city.

So when the two come to him cooing and gushing about a sweet looking pit bull they’ve met, Michael is a little astonished when they start telling him their plans for whisking her away in the dead of night.

“We’re not stealing someone’s dog,” he deadpans, and he can’t fucking believe that he has to say it.

“Awww, c’mon Michael, why not? Lookat her!” Gavin whines, shoving his phone in his face.

And, yeah, alright, she’s fucking cute — chocolate brown fur; a light pink tongue lolling out of her mouth; a tail that’s blurry because it’s wagging so fast; and large, shining brown eyes that are staring adoringly at Gavin in the selfie he’s taken — but Michael can’t just let his boys go off and steal a dog for no good reason. “Because it’ll shit all over the goddamn floor!” he argues. “Where are we gonna keep her, Gavin? We gonna make her ride an elevator every time she needs to take a piss?”

But the thing about Gavin is that once he gets something in his head, there’s really no stopping him. And with Jeremy involved, really, all Michael can do is hope to mitigate the inevitable collateral damage.

It’s ass o’clock in the morning when Michael pulls into what is possibly the most boring middle class neighborhood and parks across the street from a house that looks like the dozens of others surrounding it. He cuts the engine of their unmarked van and looks to Gavin and Jeremy making their last-minute preparations in the back. The entire vehicle smells like peanut butter and Gavin slaps Jeremy’s hand away from the bag of bacon he had fried up before leaving. “That’s not for you!” he hisses.

Jeremy pouts indignantly, but lets it be. They grab a pair of bolt cutters, while Gavin stuffs his pockets full of treats and clips various dog toys to his belt. A brightly colored rope dangles from his hips, and right beside it a squeaky chicken. He pauses for a minute, tennis ball in hand, and frowns thoughtfully, trying to figure out where to place it.

Ultimately, he sets it down, deciding that his skirt of toys is sufficient.

Jeremy pulls on a pair of gloves and grabs a leash dangling from a hook. They shoot Gavin an eager look, which he eagerly returns.

“You look like fucking idiots,” Michael says, because one: it’s true, and two: he apparently has a compulsive need to kill the mood if it’s stupid, like this one. Gavin and Jeremy just look at him, still smiling, mischief gleaming in their eyes. Michael rolls his eyes and waves his hand. “Go get the damn dog.”

The other two excitedly scramble out of the car and crouch-run their way across the street, like they’re on some sort of actual heist. Michael barely suppresses an eye roll. It’s not like the hazy moonlight or streetlamps are illuminating the street or anything. Idiots.

He watches them stealth their way to a chain-link fence. On the other side, Michael can make out what appears to be a ramshackle doghouse, and a tiny figure curled up just outside it. He can’t hear it, but he assumes Gavin whistles or does something to get the dog’s attention, because the figure’s head pops up and it pushes itself onto it’s legs.

Or at least it tries.

Jeremy is clipping away at the fence when Michael notices how the poor thing’s back paws are dragging uselessly along the ground. Her tail wags furiously as she crawls over to Gavin, but she isn’t moving very fast.

Oh. That’s why they’d been so adamant about doing this.

His knuckles turn white, and the steering wheel creaks under his grip. That familiar burn courses through his body, licking flames up and down his arms and legs. The vein in his jaw throbs, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. Going in and beating the owner senseless is tempting — “How does it feel, huh? How does it fucking feel? — but running in blindly, fists flying, would be reckless and stupid. And while he has his moments, tonight he’s the sensible one.

Or at least that’s what he tells himself. But when a light flicks on in the house while Jeremy is in the middle of unhooking the dog’s chain and latching their own, all of Michael’s self restraint leaves him. There’s a shadow moving throughout the house, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He pulls the baseball bat from the passenger footwell and tears out of the van.

Gavin exclaims loudly as Michael rips past.

“Get the dog outta here, I’ll cover you!” Michael yells, and his lifetime of hopping fences pays off as he effortlessly scales the wire structure. His feet land on the ground with a soft thump and gets into position on the other side of the sliding glass door. He chokes up on the bat, ready to swing.

Jeremy finally manages to slip the hook of their leash through the loop on the dog’s collar just as the door slides open. The man inside is screaming angrily, but Michael doesn’t hear what he’s saying. He’s more focused on how he’s going to make this dickbag scream for another reason.

The guy steps outside, not seeing Michael where he hides just behind him, and he reaches for something tucked in his waistband. The second Michael realizes it’s a gun, he pounces, striking the guy in the back of the knees and bringing the bat down on the guy’s back with a satisfying crack.

He fucking whales on the guy, letting all that righteous anger course through him. Each strike shakes his bones, and he’s pleasantly reminded why this is his primary weapon of choice. There’s something so deliciously personal about taking a guy apart with a big stick. He keeps swinging until he’s sure Gavin and Jeremy have pulled the poor pup to safety. The bastard is curled into the fetal position, and his gun, which Michael had kicked away, lay just out of reach.

The horn of the van blares — one of his lads letting him know they’re clear — and Michael brings the bat down for a final strike. It makes a wet crunch against the back of the guy’s head. He’s not one hundred percent sure whether the guy is unconscious or actually dead. He doesn’t particularly care. He’s got no love for people who beat their animals, and, frankly, he’s killed for less.

His arms burn, and as he wipes blood from his face, he realizes that the lights in the surrounding houses are flicking on. The sound of an approaching siren kicks him into gear. He scrambles over the fence — a feat more difficult now that his limbs feel gooey with exertion — and books it across the street.

The engine revs as Jeremy puts the key in the ignition. Sirens are growing closer, and tired civilians are emerging from their homes to see what the fuss is about. The doors to the back are wide open, and Gavin, gently cradling the dog, yells at him to “Hurry up!”

Michael flings himself into the back of the van, and Jeremy takes off like a bullet, tires squealing against the asphalt, leaving behind the scent of burned rubber.

They fly out of the neighborhood, and Jeremy takes a few random turns, shaking any potential pursuers off their trail. All the while, Gavin is cooing at the creature in his arms. “Who’s a good girl? Who’s a good Bella?” he asks. “Who doesn’t have to worry about that mean old man ever again? Yes, it’s you!”

He pets Bella until she calms down, mindful of her legs, which rest gingerly on the seat. Slowly, her eyes drift shut, and she falls asleep under his touch. He smiles softly, and Michael can’t help but do the same at the scene before him.

Then Gavin turns to look at him. “Thank you, Michael,” he murmurs, barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Michael shrugs. “Don’t understand why you didn’t tell me why you wanted to steal this guy’s dog in the first place.”

“Ah, well…” Gavin pauses for a moment, trying to figure out what he wants to say. “Lil J and I kind of figured you riding out your rage would be the best cover in case we got caught. And that’s something that only really happens in the moment. So we needed you going in blind.”

Michael stares blankly for a moment, blinking slowly, trying to understand the reasoning. “You didn’t tell me,” he says slowly, “because you wanted me to be pissed off enough to attack a guy in case he caught you.”

Gavin presses his lips together and nods. “Yeah.”

Michael scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You two are fucking ridiculous,” he says. Then his gaze travels towards the peacefully sleeping dog. “What are you going to do with her?”

Gavin shrugs. “Gonna get our medic to take a look at her and see what he can do. After that…I dunno, try to find a nice place for her to live. Fredo’s been saying he wants a dog, so maybe he’ll be willing to take care of her.”

“So you never planned on her living in the penthouse, did you?” Michael asks.

“Of course not, Michael boy,” Gavin answers easily. His eyes sparkle with humor. “We’re not gonna make her ride the elevator every time she needs to take a leak.”

[anniekoh]

The Way of Coyote is a work of creative nonfiction that highlights various urban animals and they ways in which they can expand our care for and understandings of place. One way to describe the book: Lao-Tzu (legendary author of the Tao Te Ching), Aldo Leopold (legendary ecologist), and the quintessential urban trickster, Coyote, meet for drinks, then go hiking and reeling through Chicago's streets, forest preserves, and shorelines in search of an urban land ethic.

Read the sample chapter, "Channel Coyotes"

Read the sample chapter, “Scrapers of Sky”

City Creatures editor Gavin Van Horn's book Way of the Coyote. Sample chapters: Channel Coyotes; Scrapers of Sky (pdf).

[shemakesmusic-uk]

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to shemakesmusic@hotmail.com. We look forward to hearing from you!

Kate Dressed Up

Kate Dressed Up has released their second single of the year with ‘How Could I Have Known,’ a queer folk rock song about mixed signals and missed opportunities. The lyrics are lamenting yet tongue-in-cheek, carried by trumpets that bring a dynamic energy to the Kate Dressed Up sound while seemingly endless layers bloom in the explosive second chorus. ‘How Could I Have Known’ was produced by SPHMRE, and is the second single off the debut album from Kate Dressed Up. The creation of this song began with just Katie Miller and her Martin guitar, as most Kate Dressed Up songs do. The inspiration came in a moment when Miller realized that her uncertain relationship with her own sexuality had led to moments in which she had perceived friendship when, perhaps, something more was being offered. This is a bisexual person’s anthem about being invisible and at the same time remaining totally clueless as to how to make themselves known. When Miller and SPHMRE connected, it was obvious that this song called for a big sound and the two put their heads together. The result is the first Kate Dressed Up song featuring horns, played by Adam Herschberger and Dawn Webster of West Philadelphia Orchestra. Listen below.

Breena Rose

Breena Rose is a pop rock artist based in Los Angeles CA and Denver CO. She has just released her debut song, ‘Back To The Memories’, an alternative rock song destined to be the anthem for your next heartbreak. 'Back to the Memories' is a song that tells the story of a relationship that took a twist.

Breena Rose · Back To The Memories

Incremona

Based in London, Incremona is a singer-songwriter with a strong interest in figurative arts. Emerged from an Italian background, her music is a fusion of Pop, Contemporary Jazz and Lo-Fi. Her dreamy vocals and groovy rhythms blast with colours and intense emotions. Experimenting is at the base of her creating process. Incremona's biggest influences have strongly determined her current music genre. Ella Fitzgerald, Jordan Rakei, Gretchen Parlato, Gavin James, Amy Winehouse, Daft Punk are some of the major inspirations of the artist. Currently working on her debut album, Incremona is set to turn heads in the foreseeable future. Her new single ‘Dark Canyon’ fuses together elements of energy and sadness, a complex interior battle. “The single discusses the idea of drowning into a deep dark canyon of obscure depression, whilst life around you becomes an unstable feeling of negative voices and failure, every morning has the same hopeless light,” she explains. “As a rescuing wave, the energetic drop symbolizes the light in the dark.” Listen below.

hope it ♪ · Incremona & hope it - Dark Canyon

The Famous Daxx

The Famous Daxx’s debut single ‘Weatherman’ is out not. The song is the first instalment of four singles that are to be released in the following months and introduces the cinematic retro soundscape of Daxx. ‘Weatherman’ is a window inside the artists mind in times of confusion and change, drawing influences from the soundtracks of Ennio Morricone, the psychedelic phase of the Beatles and Supertramp as well as modern grunge bands like Wolf Alice. The song is a dynamic journey carried by Daxx’s vocals and surfy guitars, supported by the retro sound of vintage tape recordings. It was recorded with producer Lucas Polo in London, with an all-female session band consisting of drummer Gabi King (Declan McKenna), bassist Josefine van Jonson (Los Bitchos) and pianist Sara de Santis (Tricky), as well as Daxx and Polo on guitars and synths. Daxx says: “The decision to only use female session musicians was a very personal one, but also a statement that I wanted to present to the world: here are the amazing female instrumentalists that so many people just conveniently overlook – you just need to make the effort to find them.” Listen below.

The Famous Daxx · Weatherman

[kwebtv]

From the Golden Age of Television

High Tor  -  CBS  -  March 10, 1956

Musical

A Presentation of Ford Star Jubilee

Running Time:  90 minutes

Stars:

Bing Crosby as Van Van Horn

Nancy Olson as Judith

Julie Andrews as Lise

Everett Sloane as DeWitt

Hans Conreid as Biggs

Lloyd Corrigan as Skimmerhorn

Dan Barton as Buddy

Bob Foulk as Elkus

James Gavin as Patsy

Kay Kuter as Dope

Charles Meredith as Biggs, Sr.

George Neise as Budge

John Pickard as Captain

Michael Miller as Pieter

Jack Pepper as 1st Sailor

Dick Keene as 2nd Sailor

Bob Jordan as 3rd Sailor

Lee Turnbull as 4th Sailor

High Tor was filmed in November 1955 by Desilu Productions at the RKO-Pathé Studio.

Bing Crosby had seen Julie Andrews in her Broadway debut in The Boy Friend, and invited her to appear in High Tor. It was Andrews' first work in a filmed production, and her American television debut. Because Crosby was uncomfortable with the exigencies of live television, he insisted that it be filmed instead. For this reason, High Tor is sometimes considered the first TV movie.

(Wikipedia)

[didanawisgi]

“"At a time when we must adapt to the changing character of conflict, this is a serious book on a serious issue that can give us the edge we need.”

—General James Mattis, USMC, Ret.

"Left of Bang offers a crisp lesson in survival in which Van Horne and Riley affirm a compelling truth: It's better to detect sinister intentions early than respond to violent actions late. Left of Bang helps readers avoid the bang."

—Gavin de Becker, bestselling author of The Gift of Fear

"Rare is the book that is immediately practical and interesting. Left of Bang accomplishes this from start to finish. There is something here for everyone in the people business and we are all in the people business."

—Joe Navarro, bestselling author of What Every BODY is Saying.

"Left of Bang is a highly important and innovative book that offers a substantial contribution to answering the challenge of Fourth Generation war (4GW)."

—William S. Lind, author of Maneuver Warfare Handbook

"Like Sun Tzu's The Art of War, Left of Bang isn't just for the military. It's a must read for anyone who has ever had a gut feeling that something's not quite right...be it walking down the street, sitting in a corporate boardroom, or even entering an empty home."

-- Steven Pressfield, bestselling author of The Lion's Gate, The Warrior Ethos and Gates of Fire

“An amazing book! Applying the lessons learned during the longest war in American history, and building on seminal works like The Gift of Fear and On Combat, this book provides a framework of knowledge that will bring military, law enforcement, and individual citizens to new levels of survival mindset and performance in life-and-death situations. Left of Bang is an instant classic.”

--Lt. Colonel Dave Grossman, U.S. Army Ret., author of On Combat and On Killing

-- You walk into a restaurant and get an immediate sense that you should leave.

-- You are about to step onto an elevator with a stranger and something stops you.

-- You interview a potential new employee who has the resume to do the job, but something tells you not to offer a position.

These scenarios all represent LEFT OF BANG, the moments before something bad happens. But how many times have you talked yourself out of leaving the restaurant, getting off the elevator, or getting over your silly “gut” feeling about someone? Is there a way to not just listen to your inner protector more, but to actually increase your sensitivity to threats before they happen?

Legendary Marine General James Mattis asked the same question and issued a directive to operationalize the Marine Corps’ Combat Hunter program. A comprehensive and no-nonsense approach to heightening each and every one of our gifts of fear, LEFT OF BANG is the result.”

[16ruedelaverrerie]

Who, in your mind, would propose to whom: Gavin or RK900?

BOTH! I make a lot of marriage-related jokes here but mostly for the same reason that I also make a lot of death-related jokes– I think they’re good punchlines for when you push something to its limit and want to see the ground fall out from under it. Just because of the way that I am as a person, anon, it’s probably not likely that the version of Reed900 you see on this particular blog will ever mention marriage in a wholly unironic register; but PROPOSALS, BRING THEM ON!!! I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AS A DEVICE. THEY’RE BASICALLY A RELATIONSHIP ULTIMATUM! THEY’RE SO HEIGHTENED AND SO FRAUGHT WITH OPPORTUNITIES FOR HILARITY! I mean, in real-life relationships I do believe that no one should be caught off guard by the question and forced to make an important life decision at a moment’s notice, especially not in public, but… MAN ARE CHAOTIC PROPOSALS FUN AS A TROPE OR WHAT! REST OF THIS POST UNDER THE CUT

In the scenario where Nines proposes, this kind of uncontrolled chaos is very much what I would enjoy seeing. Emotions running high, copious amounts of yelling, and the entirety of Central Station being embarrassed on Gavin and Nines’s behalf. Gavin’s wrapping up the tail end of an undercover sting, with Nines and the rest of the team keeping a careful eye on him from the surveillance van, but things start to rapidly go south in the last leg of the operation– Gavin attempts to improvise as best as he can, but everything is spiraling entirely out of his control! He’s moments away from having his cover blown! But he doesn’t want to cut loose and jeopardize the whole mission, when they’re this close to busting the whole thing wide open! He’s so stubborn about it that he literally has a gun to his head and he still won’t back down, until the instant when he hears the snick of the safety clicking off and he squeezes his eyes closed in a sudden cold rush of terrible regret AND THEN THE REINFORCED STEEL DOOR FLIES OFF ITS REINFORCED STEEL HINGES AND NINES MOWS DOWN THE ENTIRE ROOM

“Gavin, you fucking idiot,” shouts Nines as the rest of the backup detail swarms inside. “You could have–”

“I had it under control,” says Gavin, stuffing his shaky hands into his pockets.

“You very clearly did not have it under control,” yells Nines. “Which isn’t the issue! The issue is that you knew you were supposed to abort and instead you just stood there waiting for them to blow your brains out, you obstinate son of a–”

“So what’s it to you!” Gavin yells back, all the coursing fear in him turning to anger. “You think just because we– I’m not your responsibility, who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you slam your cock in me every night doesn’t mean–”

“I don’t know why the conversation has taken this turn,” Fowler mutters from the doorway.

“–and just because you moving inside me makes me feel like maybe I’m not alone for the first goddamn time in my life,” Gavin is still shouting, “doesn’t mean what happens to me is any of your business!”

“Then let’s make it my business!” yells Nines. “Gavin Reed, marry me, you actual impossible piece of shit!”

“Wh–” gasps Gavin, “–oh my god.”

Tina blows a party horn.

I think what I enjoy about this scenario is that because proposals are such a dramatic move – a relationship ultimatum! – it’s fun to see them happen at moments where the characters find themselves proposing as their quotidian facade breaks open. It tickles me that Nines, normally so efficient and measured and capable, might be driven to a point where his MAELSTROM OF DEVIANT EMOTIONS have no recourse but to reconcile themselves by throwing a marriage proposal at Gavin.

On the other hand, it also tickles me to think that Gavin’s proposal might happen in the absolute opposite way, and turn out to be a very quiet and private thing. They’re investigating a crime scene where IN CLASSIC DBH FASHION, the guilty party is actually still holed up inside the building. Guilty party makes a flurried run for it, Gavin and Nines give chase, there’s a lot of jumping over railings and frantic cursing and at some point everyone goes crashing through a wall or something?! idk houses in disrepair are fragile things! In the end the suspect is taken into custody, and Gavin and Nines collapse on the filthy wooden floors, completely winded. Even Nines needs a little time to get his processes in order. After a couple minutes he hears Gavin shuffle next to him so he cracks his eye open without otherwise moving, and realizes that Gavin is using holochalk to draw a crime scene outline around him.

“Gavin, why,” groans Nines.

“Don’t move,” says Gavin, “you’ll disturb the body.”

“In that I’m the body?” asks Nines.

“Shh,” says Gavin.

And as Nines watches him, Gavin continues marking his unhurried way around Nines’s left foot, up the outside length of Nines’s left leg, up the left side of his torso and down his arm. When he gets to Nines’s left hand, with all the hushed determination of a man trying as desperately as he can to seem nonchalant, Gavin takes the holochalk and traces a careful band across Nines’s ring finger.

“–Gavin,” starts Nines.

“Shh,” says Gavin, and won’t look up. “Stay still.”

Nines does, and holds his tongue, watching Gavin’s ears flush red under his hair as he works. Twenty-seven seconds until he’s done, thinks Nines. Twenty-six.

In all possible scenarios, of course the other party says yes, because the proposal itself may come as a shock but the emotional truth of it always already exists to ensure reciprocity! Anyway, just because of the way that I am as a person, there are proposals but probably no actual ceremonies– Nines just fills out some paperwork, they bang extra hard on the day they submit it to the mayor’s office, and both of them retain a healthy amount of skepticism towards marriage as an institution that encourages capitulation to the wedding-industrial complex and legally mandated definitions of what constitutes a family or a partnership. THE END!!!

[fatehbaz]

“Urban Ecology and Animism in the Landscape of the Great Lakes”: An interview on decay, restoration, bioregionalism, and “ecological citizenship” in the Midwest

From 26 December 2018, Belt Magazine. Excerpts:

Authors Matt Stansberry and Gavin Van Horn recently published books on the urban wildlife of the Great Lakes region (Rust Belt Arcana: Tarot and Natural History in the Exurban Wilds by Belt Publishing, and The Way of the Coyote: Shared Journeys in the Urban Wilds by University of Chicago Press, respectively). In this wide-ranging conversation, Stansberry and Van Horn discuss the overlaps in each other’s books and the progress, challenges, and joys of living with and writing about nature in the industrial Midwest.

GVH: Some of the book is about holding on to what remains, trying to live in a way that allows others to live (such as when you write about box turtles or salamanders). But there are also expressions of hope in the book, particularly when it comes to meeting people who are hard at work on restoration projects. I’m thinking here of the Cleveland Museum of Natural History’s work at Mentor Marsh, and also the lessons you glean from Tim Jasinski of Lights Out Cleveland. Could you tell us a little bit about those projects? And perhaps the strides you see in the Rust Belt to respond with care to the land and water, which you call “holy work”?

MS: Those two chapters show different approaches to dealing with our impacts on wildlife. The first chapter you reference, “Temperance,” explores the effort needed to restore one of Lake Erie’s largest wetlands back into a functioning ecosystem. It’s inspiring because of how daunting the task must have seemed—to try to remove hundreds of acres of nearly impervious invasive reeds. After years of sustained, systematic effort and investment, we are seeing a return of biodiversity to this site.

-

GVH: You end with “The World” card and reflections on what E.O. Wilson has called the “Age of Loneliness” (the Eremozoic Era). After detailing the historic superabundance of biological life in Ohio, you say, “I want to leave you with the impression that our home has a potential to be one of the wildest, most fecund places on the planet… I tell you these things to repeat the names, so that you know that they are there. …There is still plenty of time to roll in the dirt in a forest. Stare out at Lake Erie. Listen to the wind. Don’t live separately from the world. Don’t despair.” What kinds of practices would you recommend for connecting to the magic of the everyday? 

MS: So you mention a bunch of good ideas right there. Roll in the dirt. Stare at the lake. Since finishing the book, I’ve read The Enchanted Life by Sharon Blackie, and it’s full of so many brilliant ideas that I’ve been trying, ways to make myself more grounded in the place where I live. We can learn the myths of our home regions, draw big maps of the places we live and hike, plant gardens with native species, craft objects and food out of the plants around us, name the species of birds, start re-enchanting the landscape.

I see a lot of overlaps in our work as well. For example, both of our books center around the study of urban wildlife, animals in the city. You write: “When the city presses in upon me, coyotes remind me of the vitality that weaves its way between the buildings. Humans may often disregard, displace, and disrupt other kinds of animal life, but the anima of what we now call Chicago is not gone. The coyotes keep it flowing; they keep going along, beckoning us toward greater fidelity with our non-human kin. Lead on coyotes. Show what a city can be.”

Engaging with urban wildlife is not something you expected to be doing, and not something historically that has been of interest to the science/naturalist community. What do you learn from studying city creatures that you don’t learn in more rural or wild environments?

GVH: A city constitutes one portion of a landscape continuum. Occasionally in the book, I venture outside of city limits, acknowledging that many species don’t do well in smaller patches of habitat and with human presence (hell, I don’t do well with continual human presence). Yet my focus is on “ordinary” and close-to-home creatures as amazing expressions of life, worthy of our fascination and attention. Familiarity need not breed contempt. Familiarity can be a portal into our most intimate and meaningful relationships. Several essays feature ecologists and biologists who are turning back toward the city with curiosity and scientific rigor, seeking to counter the story of urban nature as less-than-worthy. I suppose I’m doing something similar with my writing.

MS: In one of my favorite essays, “De los pajaritos del monte” you marvel at your friend’s lifelong connection—physical, familial, cultural—to a landscape. You’ve moved around the country, the same way I have, and seem to struggle with that rootlessness. I think we both envy what your friend has with his home landscape. Can you write your way into place? Is even one lifetime enough to get rooted?

GVH: One lifetime, so far as I know, is all we’ve got, so I hope that’s enough to actualize one’s ecological citizenship. As you know, this book was part of my own process of adapting to life in an urban area. Writing is a way to further deepen the bonds of memory, to invite others (and perhaps yourself) to see the world from a fresh perspective. It’s an alchemical process—to transform experience into ink, and then for readers to permit those words to conjure new worlds in their imaginations. And the hope is that those stories, then, shape how a person moves through the landscape and the way they value it.

But the question of roots is one that haunts me a bit, in all honesty. I’m a person that has lived in many places. Some of us are more nomadic in spirit; some landscapes make our hearts sing more than others. What if a person feels displaced—like a plant outside of the microbiome to which it is most suited—and no amount of spiritual equanimity or sheer amount of time spent in a place can create a sense of at-homeness? (...)

MS: You have a chapter exploring Aldo Leopold’s concept of the numenon of the north woods, the ruffed grouse. You suggest Chicago’s numenon is the Night Heron? What’s a numenon and what’s a night heron?

GVH: As one young man who does ecological restoration work on the South Side of the city told me, “It’s a getting better Chicago.” He’s right. A lot of Midwestern cities, like Chicago, are in what is sometimes called a post-industrial phase. (...) [But] the recovery is tangible ...

-

Read more.

[vagrantblvrd]

Triptych (1/3)

Summary: Everything is in motion

Notes: @miss-ingno​ is to blame for this one. Totes.

Chapter 1 - Gavin

Gavin’s made mistakes in the past, but none quite like this. Stupid enough that he hasn't quite shed the arrogance of youth, and ends up paying for it for a long, long time.

AO3

It’s a silly little whim, bit of curiosity, that has Gavin hacking a system no one in their right mind would even think about before they’ve learned enough to do it cleanly and it lands him in the worst kind of trouble.

Changes his damn world when he wakes up one morning to his door being kicked in and armed men in body armor and big damn guns aimed at him.

A man in a suit and bulletproof vest and this smirk as he looks Gavin over like he’s nothing. (Less than nothing.)

A flick of his hand and one of the men moves forward to cuff Gavin. They march him past his gawking neighbors and shoved into the back of an unmarked van, driven down to the FIB building.

Plunk him down in an interrogation room for what has to be bloody hours.

Handcuffed to the metal table facing the two-way mirror and all the time in the world to pick apart the how of him ending up there.

Every little misstep, thing he’d done or not done when he was poking around their files and other bits of interest, thinking the would never notice.

He loses track of time, too-bright lights and changing of the stone-faced bastards watching him, stomach growling and mouth dry and aware – so very aware – that things in Los Santos work differently than anywhere else he’s seen in his short life. (Anything he’s been told about, knows people like him go missing all the damn time in this city.)

Gavin’s starting to wonder if he’s just going to rot in the interrogation room. Up and waste away without anyone knowing what happened to him when the agent from his apartment walks in.

Perfectly pressed suit and slicked back hair, pair of horn-rimmed glasses and this too-calm air about him.

Voice this smooth, controlled roll and pitch.

Soothing, mesmerizing.

“Gavin Free,” he greets. “I’m Agent Harris.”

He’s holding a simple manila folder in his hands with Gavin’s name across the little tab. Blocky font, last name first, first name last and a string of numbers and letters under it Gavin can’t quite make out.

His record, Gavin assumes. Various files and whatnot documenting his misdeeds over the years. From England to certain areas across Europe to where he’d crossed the ocean to the US and eventually Los Santos.

Small things here and there, nothing serious enough to land him jail time. Most easily explained away as the indiscretions of youth and all that. Running with the wrong crowd and he’d make an excellent candidate for rehabilitation and on and on and on.

Gavin knows it by heart, all the times he got off lightly, and knows this won’t be one of them.

Agent Harris tosses Gavin’s file on the table, and he watches it slide across the smooth metal until it stops in front of him.

“Go on,” Agent Harris says. “Open it.”

Gavin gives him a look, but Harris gives him nothing to go on, so Gavin opens the folder to reveal a stack of photos placed on top of his file.

The top photo isn’t that old, and Gavin’s heart stops in his chest as he studies it.

He knows where it was taken, when.

Gavin headed back to his terrible little apartment a few weeks back a few weeks back as he was coming back from a job. Head down against the cold, chin tucked into the collar of his jacket, hands shoved into his pockets and so damn oblivious.

The cuffs are just long enough for him to reach for the folder, move that photo aside to see the others.

Some go back months, almost a year and not once had he noticed. (A few with Dan in them, when the idiot had visited him on leave, new rank insignia and boyish grin and this pride about him, because he was thriving and it kills Gavin a little seeing those photos.)

“You’re an interesting young man,” Agent Harris says as he takes a seat across from Gavin. Folds his hands together. “Uniquely talented.”

Gavin swallows thickly and puts the photos down. Flips the folder shut and leans back in his chair. Wants away from this man with his too-calm manner and calculating look in his eyes. Smug in his position of authority, knows he has Gavin exactly where he wants him.

“But you’ve made...questionable choices in your life,” he says, like he regrets such a waste. “This latest incident of yours is quite serious, you understand. You’re no longer considered a minor.”

Gavin’s careful not to let his hands curl into fists. He’s met more than his share of people like this agent since coming to Los Santos. Knows what a mistake that would be.

The agent smiles, a mockery of kindness, sympathy.

“My superiors have an offer for you to consider,” the agent says. “We could use someone with your talents.”

And there it is, trap closing around him of his own making.

“If you decline the offer, well. You did hack into the FIB’s database.” The agent spreads his hands. “I doubt your country will fight us over this.”

If they even find out about it, Gavin knows. Got a peek at all sort of unsavory things before he ducked out of their systems, thought he’d managed to do it cleanly.

“Well,” he says, keeps his eyes down. Tone of voice resigned, defeated. “When you put it that way.”

There’s a quiet laugh, a sense of good boy to it that plants a little seed in Gavin’s mind, sets down roots.

“You’re making the right choice, Mr. Free.”

========

Gavin keeps his head down, plays meek and mild. Lets them think they’ve broken his spirit with threats of what will happen to him if he puts a toe out of line. All these laws he’s broken, the case against him they were building for ages before he gave them the perfect opportunity.

Plays by their rules and as time goes by they get complacent, comfortable in their belief he would never dream of doing something about the pretty little cage they’ve built around him.

It gains him small freedoms, privileges, and he’s so, so careful with them. Hoards them like precious jewels and makes sure not to do anything to have them revoked. (Or really, get caught doing anything that would get them revoked because he’s nowhere near broken, defeated the way they assume he is.)

Gavin learns so much working for the FIB. Goes up against other hackers out there, cyber threats and the like and all it does is sharpen his own skills, hones them. Teaches him to be better, smarter, than those he catches fumbling like blind fools.

He snares the worst of the lot, the ones with plans to hurt and kill for the joy of it, because it sounds like fun to them.

Runs them to ground, wraps them up nice and neat for the FIB and feels a vicious sort of satisfaction because they’re monsters, nice and simple.

He takes warning swipes at the young and stupid, too curious for their own good. Sends them scurrying away before the FIB catches onto them. Teaching them the lesson he learned the hard way.

Things shift a little sideways on him when he finds himself staring at a chat window one day. A chat window for a program he knows for a fact wasn’t installed on his machine when he came in that morning.

Simple enough message, too. Quote from a classic eighties movie. One of the Matthews, if he recalls correctly.

Shall we play a game?

He stares at it for a long, long time, aware it could be a trap. Some clever new way for his handlers to extend his so-called contract with them, but he’s feeling reckless enough at the moment not to care.

Love to. he types, but leaves off the rest because he’s not to the point where thermonuclear war sounds like an appealing option.

Yet.

Tell me who I am. his mystery pen pal types, and Gavin’s never really been one to leave that kind of mystery unsolved.

It takes him two weeks of sleepless nights in between his work for the FIB and his own side projects before he finally discovers who he’s been tracking. Sniffing out little clues here and there until he gets his answer.

A hacker known as Axial who is rumored to have ties with the Fake AH Crew. Group of notorious criminals known to be a thorn in the FIB’s side, and an offer.

Feed them information regarding the FIB’s operations focus on the Fakes and they’ll make it so the FIB can never touch Dan or their families again. Remove that ugly bit of leverage the FIB has on Gavin, and the promise of help if he ever wants to escape his cage.

It’s too good of an offer to be true and one Gavin can’t refuse all in one.

There’s little enough Gavin can do to protect Dan or their families from the FIB in his current predicament. Not the way he wants to, and he’s heard about the Fakes.

Best of a bad lot, as far as these things go here in Los Santos. Known for being an honorable enough bunch who keeps their word and the sort who will deal honestly with you so long as you do the same.

And to be fair, Gavin’s been looking for a prime way to get back at the FIB for trapping him the way they have. Holding him here with ugly little threats against people who have nothing to do with this mess he’s made of things all on his own.

It’s easy to slip the Fakes information when his handlers and other FIB agents talk freely around him. Don’t stop to think he would resent their treatment of him, that he could do anything with the information he gathers easy as anything and passes along to Axial and the Fakes.

He gets curious, though, Gavin does. Looks into the FIB and their previous attempts to bring the Fakes down. (It pays to know what to look for in case the FIB get it into their heads to try another go at the Fakes. Give them a heads up long before things get off the ground, or so he tells himself.)

It makes for an interesting read. Gavin learns when the Fakes were first setting up shop in Los Santos the FIB sent several agents to infiltrate the crew.

Agent after agent over the course of a year, sent them in at random points in time in order not to make it seem suspicious. None of them were successful. A few were killed, some simply went missing, and the rest resigned soon afterward.

There was one recent attempt, a few few weeks before the FIB snatched Gavin up.

Promising young agent that everyone seemed to like, talent for charming anyone he met and their best chance at bringing the Fake AH Crew tumbling down.

The files about it are sparse, but there’s a note in one of the files Gavin gets his hands on. References the archives room in the basement because even in this day and age the FIB hasn’t fully done away with hard copy files, things they don’t want hackers getting their grubby little hands on.

Gavin’s not allowed access, of course, but he’s got light fingers and stubborn determination on his side.

It doesn’t take him long to discover who does have access, and in what manner their paths might intersect. How their keycard might end up in his possession long enough to clone it and slip it back to them without being noticed.

There’s a bit more work involved in getting himself down to the archives without being seen on the cameras or caught by anyone, but he’s only gotten better working for the FIB. It’s tense, nerve-wracking, Gavin all too aware of the risk he’s taking with this.

Realizes he’s never really learned his lesson when it comes to satisfying his curiosity, but for the moment things are going well.

The cloned keycard works beautifully when he swipes it, and he breathes a sigh of relief when the door shuts behind him before he gets to work.

Sets down the folders he’s carrying. Perfect props for playing the role of a lowly peon handling shuffling along, and digs into the files he’s after.

He gets bits and pieces, long sections redacted and no closer to finding answers he doesn’t have the questions for. (Knows the shape of them well enough to have a starting point but not much else.)

His phone buzzes in his pocket after half an hour has gone by. Convenient little warning to get out before he’s notices. Agents and staff returning from meetings, lunch, other business and the odds of him being discovered rising the longer he dallies.

Someone bound to see him, wonder what he’s doing down here and so on and so on and so on.

He almost forgets his folders on his way out. Just as he gets to the door he hears the lock disengage and looks up to see it swing open. He has a split-second to register the look of surprise on the face of the agent in the open doorway before they run into each other, stumbling back into the archives room.

“Oh, God,” Gavin hears, hand on his arm to help steady him, actual concern in the agent's voice. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Gavin blinks, arms tightening around the folders as he bumps up against a filing cabinet, and realizes the agent’s looking at him closely.

He’s trapped, the heavy door having shut behind the agent when he stepped inside to check on Gavin, and -

“Uh,” the agent says, and there’s no snap of anger in his voice when Gavin fails to answer right away, no suspicion darkening his eyes as he cocks his head. “Really, are you alright?”

Gavin opens his mouth to speak and flushes as he squeaks, voice betraying him.

The agent’s eyebrows go up, corner of his mouth quirking slightly.

“Sorry,” he says, and he sounds amused of all things, but not in the malicious manner Gavin’s come to expect. “I didn’t get that?”

Gavin clears his throat, runs a nervous hand through his hair and startles when his hand brushes the glasses he’s forgotten he decided to wear for this little mission of his.

Poor attempt at a disguise, but people tend to look for signifiers and the like, gaze drawn to the things the expect to see first and all that.

“I’m fine,” Gavin says, tries for a smile. “Just didn’t expect to bump into anyone down here. Are you alright? I’ve been told I have a hard head.”

The agent laughs, and laughs again as he realizes he’s still touching Gavin, as he pulls his hand back.

“Nah, I’m good,” he answers, and then, “You’re sure you’re okay, though?”

Gavin nods, anxiety easing a bit as the agent shows no signs of hostility towards him, the resentment at his mere existence in such hallowed halls.

“Okay,” the agent says, “Good, good.”

Unexpectedly awkward, and shy?

No.

Something like it, though, and Gavin finds his smile turning a little more genuine in the face of it.

“Well, this has been lovely,” he says, and strangely it has, if only because this particular agent has so far shown he’s not the typical sort Gavin’s dealt with in his time here. “But I need to get back to work.”

The agent finally seems to notice the files he’s holding, and steps aside with an apologetic laugh.

“Oh, yeah, Sorry again!” he says, as Gavin sidles past. “And, uh. Have a nice day?”

Gavin laughs in spite of himself.

“You too,” he calls back, and hurries the hell away before something else unexpected happens.

========

It’s sad, really, that the small bit of kindness the agent extended towards him should have such a strong effect on Gavin. Have him oddly restless, this little itch in his bones to do something, but he’s been working for the FIB for a while now. Forgets what something like that looks – feels – like.

Not to say all the FIB agents are complete bastards, but the ones who are seem to be the ones in positions of power. Arrogant with it, having had it all this time, and it makes them stupid.

Gavin cracks his knuckles – literally and metaphorically – and does his research.

Learns that the agent is one Alfredo Diaz out of San Andreas. Enlisted in the Army out of high school and portions of his records are highly classified. Require clearances higher than anyone in the building can access and that is definitely interesting, isn’t it.

The sections that aren’t paint him in a good light. High marksmanship scores and commendations from his superior officers and so on.

Decided on the FIB after his enlistment was over and did well at the start. Seemed to be on his way to building a successful career, until an incident around a year ago involving some kind of altercation with fellow agents.

Conflicting reports and redacted information, and it’s one of the most suspicious things Gavin’s happened upon in his time with the FIB. Endless hours scraping together suspicious files, reports. Any evidence he can get his hands on of the corruption that’s taken root in the agency sure as any police department in Los Santos and this void surrounding this incident is the most suspicious thing he’s seen yet.

And it doesn’t stop there, incidents on cases Alfredo was assigned to. Reports of tension among the agents. Injuries and close calls in the field that shouldn’t have happened. Suggestions in between the line that Alfredo be reassigned due to his incompatibility with other agents that resulted in him being bounced around until he ended up in Los Santos.

It’s -

Something is very clearly going on with Agent Diaz, and Gavin can’t let well enough alone, can he. Five minutes of kindness from someone who wasn’t a complete bastard to him and Gavin’s setting aside his own priorities to look into things on his behalf.

Finagles things so that he’s the one handling the comms when Alfredo’s in the field. The one sifting through data to bring him vital intel that could mean the difference between life and death.

He doesn’t think Alfredo remembers him until Gavin’s sitting in a surveillance van with a pair of bored agents. One sitting behind the wheel humming tunelessly to himself and the other listening in on their target’s phone lines while Alfredo sits in an unmarked car a few blocks over.

“You sound familiar,” he says, like it’s something that’s been bothering him for a long time. “Have we met?”

Gavin blinks, eyes darting to the agent next to him, engrossed in what she’s doing so she doesn’t notice the incredulous look on Gavin’s face at could have been a pickup line any other time. (Surely he hadn’t meant it that way, surely.)

“Don’t think so,” Gavin murmurs, better not have him put two and two together, realize Gavin had no reason to be down in the archives that day. “Think I would have remembered meeting you.”

There’s a long pause, Gavin dragging his focus back in time to realize what he just said, and presses his hand over his eyes in mortification. Waits for the disgust, derision, but instead -

“Oh, nice,” Alfredo says, laughing in delight. “You got any others like that one? It’s boring as shit over here.”

Gavin snorts, sneaking a glance at the other agent who gives him a dirty look before focusing on her job.

“Did it hurt,” Gavin says, makes sure to keep his voice as carefully neutral as he can to see how long it takes for the agent to notice what he’s doing. “When you fell from Heaven, Alfredo?”

Alfredo is cackling, this bright, breathless laughter that has Gavin smiling like an idiot at the sound.

“Okay, okay, okay,” he says when he has his laughter under control, “Let me think of one.”

Gavin adjusts his headset, turning away from the agent as he waits for Alfredo’s next terrible pickup line. He’s a bit of an idiot, but it’s not like any of this means anything. Like Alfredo knows who he is, so this.

It’s safe enough, isn’t it?

========

Only, it isn’t. Because they manage to break that case wide open, Alfredo and Gavin and the other agents assigned to it. That brings expectations of further ones from that team, Gavin included.

His handlers are loathe to let him roam too far, but someone further up the chain of command is impressed with what he was able to do. Overrules their objections, list of reasons as why it’s a bad idea.

“Hey, we have met!”

It’s the first thing Alfredo says to him when Gavin is moving his equipment into the so-called office Gavin’s been given.

It’s more of a storage closet that’s been repurposed into a workspace for Gavin. Room for his computers and other equipment and tiny and cramped and just down the hall from the where Alfredo and his team work.

Gavin looks up, overflowing cardboard box of his things in his arms.

“Er, beg your pardon?”

He’s glad for the mess of boxes and equipment between them, because he feels trapped like this. Too many lies – deliberate and by omission and everything in between and this horrible knowledge he’s made a mistake getting this close to Alfredo. (Even now he’s not afraid of him even though he has every reason to be when they’re, technically speaking, not on the same side.)

“Before, down in the archives?” Alfredo prompts, and it doesn’t seem to have occurred to him that Gavin never should have been down there. “We literally ran into each other.”

He’s grinning, like it’s a good memory. Something to look back on with fondness.

“Oh.” Gavin says, as though he’d honestly forgotten. “That. Yes.”

Alfredo's smile softens as he steps around the mound of crap and helps Gavin with the box.

“Finally nice to put a face to the voice whispering sweet nothings in my ear all the time,” Alfredo says, sly twist to his moth as Gavin sputters.

“I have not!” he manages, grateful for the dim lighting as he feels his cheeks heat, because he hasn’t.

Not...okay, not all the time, anyway. And anyways, Alfredo’s always one to return the favor, laughter in his voice and Gavin smiling helplessly.

There’s been some professionalism between them as well. Gavin feeding Alfredo and his team information through his earpiece as he goes undercover. Searching premises after following up on leads and the like.  

Alfredo laughs, and Gavin realizes he’s made another mistake because he can’t look away from him.

========

It doesn’t last, because Gavin hasn’t forgotten his own mission. The reason he’s played nice all these years – a chance to repay the FIB for that they’ve done to him. What they made him into.

He keeps funneling information to the Fakes through Axial and whoever pretends to be him from time to time, thinking Gavin wouldn’t notice.

Definite shift in their interactions that makes it perfectly clear it’s someone else. This odd sense of approval from them when Gavin let them know he was on to them. Suspicious and paranoid and only the use of specific code phrases Axial had insisted Gavin learn reassured him he was dealing with one of the Fakes.

He’s careful, though, when it comes to information regarding Alfredo because Gavin’s grown regrettably fond of the man. (Regrettable only because they’re very much on opposite sides in this, and when Alfredo finds out, he imagines it won’t be pretty.)

Funny, then, that he always seems to come back to the tangled mess surrounding Alfredo. This ongoing belittling of his accomplishments and contributions, undercutting him and slow attempt to break him down.

Butting heads with his teammates and other agents on a constant basis, lack of trust that’s chilling to witness when all too often their lives rely on such a thing.

Alfredo smiles through it all and pushes on, but he fades as time passes and it all begins to weigh on him while Gavin watches on helplessly.

Offers support where he can, does his best to keep Alfredo as safe as possible in the field, but Gavin’s limited in what he can do. Hobbled by his own situation and it’s maddening watching it all play out.

“Oh, well hello then,” Gavin says, when his computer chirps at him, an alert he’s set up when his backdoors into the FIB's systems are tripped. “What’s this?”

Someone’s tampered with the security cameras placed throughout the building. Think they’ve manage to loop the footage for a bit, but Gavin’s got his little tricks and this is interesting indeed, because it’s Alfredo.

Furtive, looking over his shoulder as he picks the lock to a senior agent’s office and accesses his computer terminal. (This tension to him Gavin’s all too familiar with.)

Not so squeaky clean, it seems, and Gavin squashes the disappointment he feels watching Alfredo. There's no reason he should have expected more from Alfredo just because he was kind.

Still.

Gavin covers Alfredo’s tracks when he’s done. Erases what little evidence he left behind because he’s a sad bastard and Alfredo’s the closest thing to a friend he has within the FIB.

The incidents and accidents that predated Alfredo’s transfer to Los Santos start to happen here too, and Gavin can only do so much to help him without tipping his hand. He spends endless nights trying to find out what the root of it all is, and every trail leads back to that incident in his records that remains a blank mystery.

Around that time the FIB considers another attempt to infiltrate the Fake AH Crew, send one of theirs into the lion’s den and hope it pans out better than previous ones.

The way things are going now, it won’t be long before there’s an unfortunate accident involving Alfredo. A case of friendly fire, or backup that never comes. Pinned down elsewhere or some other flimsy excuse and goodness, what a tragedy, but he was a damn fine agent, wasn’t he.

It’s a dangerous prospect for anyone, and somehow still a better option for Alfredo than remaining where he is. Better odds for his survival, which is the worst kind of irony.

It’s undercover work that Alfredo excels in. That easy charm of his and sharp, clever mind. Backwards sort of logic that has Gavin realizing Alfredo stands a better chance of survival with the infamous criminals than with the law enforcement agents meant to watch his back.

Gavin mentions it to Alfredo one morning when they're the only two in the office. Too early for the others to venture in, and should be safe enough.

“What?” Alfredo says, not quite processing what he’s just said.

Gavin shrugs, tells him that he overheard other agents talking about it. Couldn’t be that big of a secret if they were going to gossip about it at the water cooler.

“Huh,” Alfredo says.

Gavin raise an eyebrow.

“That’s,” Alfredo snorts. “That’s something, isn’t it.”

“I’m sorry?”

Alfredo scrubs a hand over his face, and looks at Gavin.

“I was going to tell you,” he says, myriad of expression flitting across his face before he seems to settle on bemused. “I took the assignment, Gav. I was going to tell you. Let you know before the others.”

Oh.

Gavin blinks at Alfredo stupidly.

This is an unexpected development.

“The way I figure it,” Alfredo says, and Gavin winces at the bitterness in his voice. “It’ll be a hell of a lot more straightforward than what’s been happening.”

“Well,” Gavin says, awkward little laugh in there. “Criminal types, I suppose. Pretty clear what they’re all about, innit?”

Alfredo cocks his head as he looks at Gavin.

“Yeah,” he says, odd note to his voice. “It is.”

=========

When Alfredo goes undercover Gavin’s handlers seize the opportunity to drag him back to that little cage of his. Shove him back down in that office with the wonky light and broken air conditioning. Put him to work sniffing out cyber threats and keep him so busy he doesn’t have time for much else.

And yet, he still manages to slip information to Axial when he can. Does his best to glean any bit of information from Axial about Alfredo.

Figures he’s doing well enough for himself. Clearly still alive since the FIB haven’t pulled the plug on their little operation, declared it a failure and how sad it is to lose such a bright young man to the criminal scum of this city.

Axial goes quiet a few months later, and before Gavin can wonder what that’s all about everything goes to hell.

From what he can tell, the Fakes manage to stumble over another FIB operation and an agent who knows Alfredo, and it turns into a downright mess.

Building up in flames and several dead in the initial shootout. A few assumed dead in the fire, and the rest either missing. Gavin’s world grinds to a halt because Alfredo’s listed among the casualties. (No body, but it’ll be some time before they clear the rubble away to search for them.)

Gavin goes through the motions with the FIB until he overhears something he surely wasn’t meant to. Alfredo’s former superiors laughing, mean and ugly and glad about the fact he’s gone because it because it saves them the work of doing it themselves.

Five minutes of kindness and this odd sort of friendship and Gavin’s so easy, isn’t he.

No problem at all for him to burn everything he's been working toward for years down for Alfredo.

Gathers everything he’s fond on the FIB over the years and packs it all up nice and neat and gifts it to one of the reputable reporters in Los Santos. Sends copies to another in Liberty City just in case, and sends Axial one last message, a request not to look for him and disappears.

Or, rather, he plans to, really. No reason to stay in Los Santos any longer and he misses England. Misses Dan and the terrible weather and good tea and talks it up in his head because he feels hollow, aching. Directionless for the first time in a long time, and that much is something, isn’t it?

Goes to a rundown apartment he managed to hide from the FIB. Lease under a fake name and so very careful not to tie it back to himself.

Gavin dithers like an idiot, and wakes up one morning in his terrible little apartment not to his door being kicked open, but a knock.

Far less dramatic than that day years and year ago now.

“Hey, Gav.”

Gavin’s hand tightens on the doorknob, voice caught in his throat because that’s a face he never thought he’d see again.

Familiar smile, hair styled to within an inch of its life. (Alive, he’s alive.)

The knock on his door may be less dramatic, maybe, but it still manages to change Gavin’s world all over again.

[rjzimmerman]

This book will be published and sold in October 2018. I look forward to buying and reading it. Review from University of Chicago Press Books:

A hiking trail through majestic mountains. A raw, unpeopled wilderness stretching as far as the eye can see. These are the settings we associate with our most famous books about nature. But Gavin Van Horn isn’t most nature writers. He lives and works not in some perfectly remote cabin in the woods but in a city—a big city. And that city has offered him something even more valuable than solitude: a window onto the surprising attractiveness of cities to animals. What was once in his mind essentially a nature-free blank slate turns out to actually be a bustling place where millions of wild things roam. He came to realize that our own paths are crisscrossed by the tracks and flyways of endangered black-crowned night herons, Cooper’s hawks, brown bats, coyotes, opossums, white-tailed deer, and many others who thread their lives ably through our own.           With The Way of Coyote, Gavin Van Horn reveals the stupendous diversity of species that can flourish in urban landscapes like Chicago. That isn’t to say city living is without its challenges. Chicago has been altered dramatically over a relatively short timespan—its soils covered by concrete, its wetlands drained and refilled, its river diverted and made to flow in the opposite direction. The stories in The Way of Coyote occasionally lament lost abundance, but they also point toward incredible adaptability and resilience, such as that displayed by beavers plying the waters of human-constructed canals or peregrine falcons raising their young atop towering skyscrapers. Van Horn populates his stories with a remarkable range of urban wildlife and probes the philosophical and religious dimensions of what it means to coexist, drawing frequently from the wisdom of three unconventional guides—wildlife ecologist Aldo Leopold, Taoist philosopher Lao Tzu, and the North American trickster figure Coyote. Ultimately, Van Horn sees vast potential for a more vibrant collective of ecological citizens as we take our cues from landscapes past and present.

Part urban nature travelogue, part philosophical reflection on the role wildlife can play in waking us to a shared sense of place and fate, The Way of Coyote is a deeply personal journey that questions how we might best reconcile our own needs with the needs of other creatures in our shared urban habitats.

[globalworship]

Truth I'm Standing On (dance)

A musical and dance performance of this song, by Operation Mobilization in Austria.

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Truth I'm Standing On (cover by OM in Austria) - with interlude texts in English

Leanna Crawford: Lyrics and Music © 2020 Provident Label Group LLC, a division of Sony Music Entertainment

Gavin Wiyanto: Arrangement & Flute Lisa van den Berg: Choreography & Dance Marion Traun: Lead Vocals  Olivia Haynes Ansari: Vocals Karin Matičić: Violin 1 Rachel Olney: Violin 2 & Narration Christina Hecher: Viola Anna Isabel Chan Flores: Violoncello Mária Varga: Bassoon Fernando Arguetta: Horn Gabriel M. de Almeida: Guitar Walter Till: Audio, Electric bass guitar & Flute   Exilkunst Vienna: Video Production

Filmed in Vienna, Austria