#I take so many liberties with cat genetics

[galaxywolves-galaxywolves]

Oh my goodness a real post? Anyways beholdeth I had so many issues with getting the layers to merge and still look the way i wanted and i eventually gave up

[cryptidclaw]

I made a basic cat coat color sheet to help me with my designs! hopefully I wont make as many mistakes now heh. Still my designs are only vaguely genetically accurate so i take some artistic liberties

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

We Were Something, Don’t You Think So? [Chapter 4: Moscow]

You are a Russian Grand Duchess in a time of revolution. Ben Hardy is a British government official tasked with smuggling you across Europe. You (kind of) hate each other.

This is a work of fiction loosely inspired by the events of the Russian Revolution and the downfall of the Romanov family. Many creative liberties were taken. No offense is meant to any actual people. Thank you for reading! :)

Song inspiration: “the 1” by Taylor Swift.

Chapter warnings: Sexual tension, tiramisu, cats, bubble baths, a wild chaotic Italian appears!

Word count: 6.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @okilover02​ @adrenaline-roulette​ @youngpastafanmug​ @m-1234​ @tensecondvacation​ @deacyblues​ @haileymorelikestupid​ @rogerfuckintaylor​ @yourlocalmusicalprostitute​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @someforeigntragedy​ @mo-whore​ @mellowfellowyellow​ @peculiareunoia​ @mischiefmanaged71​ @fancybenjamin​ @anne-white-star​ 

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

“Let’s start over.” Ben offers me his hand. We’re standing with our luggage outside the train station and waiting for someone to unload the livestock so we can collect the mule and her cart. The cobblestone streets are hectic, hustling, littered with scraps of newspapers and crushed cigarettes and slops of horse manure and fallen kaleidoscopic leaves. The entire world seems to smell like autumn: smoke and sky and harvest, the seasons of life closing, winter’s gleaming knife drawing nearer with each dusk. Today it’s sunny outside and fairly warm; Ben’s uncovered, messy blond curls are thrashing in the breeze. His hair is very short on the sides and longer on top, and he doesn’t slick it down the way Papa and Alexei always do. It’s an unconventional style in my experience, but it suits him. It suits him a little too well, actually. I’m having trouble not staring at his hair, his face, his cheeks and lips and large, green, intelligent eyes. I stare at his outstretched hand instead. “Hello, I’m Benjamin Hardy. I am often cantankerous and combustible. I will strive to be a good travel companion regardless. Please refrain from keeping secrets that could get us jailed and/or murdered. Thank you in advance.”

I take his hand. It’s a slightly less awkward gesture now, because we’ve done it before. “Hello, I’m the world’s worst typist. Nevertheless, it is important you remember that I am genetically superior to you in every way.”

Ben is laughing but trying to choke it back, his broad shoulders convulsing. This feels like a great victory. It’s the first time I’ve ever made him laugh on purpose.

“I will endeavor to make minimal complaints and measurable contributions,” I continue. “Please take me somewhere that has a bathtub. Thank you in advance.”

“Running water, for sure,” Ben agrees. “I can’t guarantee a bathtub though.”

“Then I might be going for a swim in the Moskva River.”

He points to a stone bridge a few blocks away from where we stand. It arches over the surging water, carrying pedestrians, horse-drawn carriages, street vendors selling meals and trinkets, soldiers on leave. “Go ahead. Dive right in. You can keep on paddling until you get to the Oka, and then the Volga, and then all the way to the Caspian Sea, and then maybe you can find some nice Kazakhstani man to take you to London and I’ll be rid of you forever.”

“But then how would you obtain the requisite funds and journalistic material to start your heavenly new life in America?”

“Ah yes, the only disadvantages of that plan.” He pops one of his hand-rolled cigarettes into his mouth and ignites it with his new lighter, the one he bought off someone on the train, maybe a farmer or a fisherman or a carpenter, someone travelling for work or pleasure or to visit family, or perhaps someone looking for a way out of Russia just like we are. The lighter is small and steel, tarnished in spots, and has a bear carved into the side. It’s standing on its hind legs and roaring silently, brandishing claws as it paws the air. Bears have been used as a symbol of my country for centuries: massive, fierce, resilient, majestic. And yet I have heard of other connotations as well, things that Papa mentions to Mother with an amused little chuckle, as if he can only bring himself to pity, not resent, those who misunderstand Russia as brutal and clumsy and gluttonous, swallowing down the weak and licking their blood from the dirt. Now those criticisms don’t strike me as funny at all.

“Kroshka!” Ben cries, beaming as a railroad employee leads her over by the bridle. The mule is lugging the cart and looks every bit as unpolished and unflappable as I remember. She’s mulling us over with drowsy black eyes and chomping on a mouthful of hay, her long ears twitching. The employee helps us load the luggage then continues on his way. Ben strokes the white stripe on the mule’s forelock, his cigarette dangling precariously between his lips, exhaling puffs of smoke as he murmurs: “Who’s a lovely mule? Who’s the most wonderful mule in the whole wide world? Is it you, huh? Is it? Or is it some other mule? No, it’s you! It’s Kroshka! Yes it is!”

Bizarrely, I find myself feeling a stab of envy for this unattractive, threadbare mule. She has no worries. She has no conflictions. She will never know enough to fear for anyone’s life, let alone her own. She will never have to come to terms with the fact that her own people wouldn’t mind seeing her homeless and destitute and perhaps even dispatched via firing squad. She will never have to learn about wars or revolutions. Also, Ben likes the mule. Likes her enough to touch her every chance he gets. Not that I care who Ben touches, no way, not even the teeniest tiniest bit. Except maybe I do.

I distract myself by scanning the bustling street, shielding my eyes from the sun with one hand. This is the same Moscow I have visited before with my family, and yet at the same time it isn’t: it’s dirtier, and louder, and more chaotic in a way that makes me feel edgy and defenseless. The cobblestones seem coarser when I’m standing on them in my ugly borrowed leather boots rather than gliding across them in carriages, peering down at them through palace windows, being swiftly escorted over them by vigilant servants. The chorus of voices around me is gruffer, their Russian uneducated and unrefined. They use words I’ve never heard before in tones I don’t want to decipher. There are beggars, some of them women and children, and wounded veterans and stray dogs and slinking men with hands in their coat pockets and the dodging eyes of thieves. And there is one man in particular, young and slim and angular-faced, staring at us from beside the cart of a vender selling chebureki. He has his wallet out, but seems to have forgotten the prospect of lunch completely. The scent of fried dough and minced lamb is thick and oily in the air.

I step closer to Ben. The young man observes us fixedly, stuffing his wallet back into his wine-red corduroy pants. Then he begins to approach.

I grip Ben’s sleeve and he whirls to me, brow furrowed, startled, alarmed. He knows I hardly ever touch him. “Ben, there’s someone watching us.”

He pushes me behind him with a rough sweep of his arm, follows my eyeline…and bursts into astonished laughter. “Good god, Joe Mazzello?!”

“Beniamino!” the man shouts ecstatically in reply. He has a disorientingly pronounced Italian accent and makes grand gestures with his lithe, energetic hands. He jogs over to us with a grin displaying pointed canine teeth, his auburn hair flopping everywhere, his small dark eyes squinting under an uncommonly glaring Moscow sun.

“What are you doing here, mate?!” Ben asks as Joe seizes his face and smacks a noisy kiss on each cheek. “I thought the Italian embassy was still in Saint Petersburg.”

“Ah, amico, they are moving us constantly!” Joe rolls his eyes and shakes his head and makes some exaggerated hand motions that are meant to signify…exasperation? Lamentation? Exhaustion? It’s difficult to know for sure. “Reports change every day. If it’s not the communists closing in from the east, it’s the Germans from the west. This country has become a nightmare, no? This world has become a nightmare. Mamma mia!” He glances at the train station. “Are you coming back from an audience with the man who was once the tsar?”

I’m not thrilled with this characterization of my father. It’s too impersonal, too dismissive, too illustrative of a captured chess piece plucked off the board and relegated to irrelevance; but perhaps that’s unavoidable. After all, this Joe person doesn’t really know Papa. No one does, it seems.  

“We are, yeah. This is, uh…” Ben waves to me and pauses awkwardly. Oh god. He’s forgotten my fake name. Which is odd, because he’s the one who gave it to me. “Lana Brinkley,” he recovers. “She’s a new typist with Sir Buchanan’s office. She came along to assist me, it’s her first assignment.”

“Ah, well it is a fortunate thing that you already went,” Joe tells Ben in a hushed voice. “I heard they’ve relocated the family again.”

“Really?” Ben says.

“Yes, somewhere more isolated. A place called…ah, what was it…? These Russian names, they’re impossible. An insult to the tongue, no? Yekaterinburg, I think.”

And something crosses Ben’s face, something distant and analytical, like he’s trying to solve math problems in his head; it’s the same look he gets when he’s searching for the perfect word to jot down in his leather-bound notebook, tapping his chin with the end of his pen, eyes cast up at the misty cloud-veiled stars. He catches me watching him and clears his expression like a slate wiped clean. “Hmm,” he manages, unforthcoming and noncommittal, stomping on the remains of his cigarette and dragging the ashes around with the heels of his boots.

“How long will you be in Moscow?” Joe asks.

“Only a day,” says Ben. “Then we’re continuing on to Saint Petersburg. We have to set sail while the weather’s still good.”

“A ship, eh?!” Joe’s eyes light up. “A ship going where?”

Ben has become distracted and shared too much; he smirks, almost grimaces, annoyed with himself. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Bastardo!” Joe teases lightly. “Very well. Being a generous man, I will forgive you. Where are you staying tonight? You and this bella donna?” He takes my right hand and presses his lips to my knuckles, grinning beneath a playful wink. It’s like something straight out of a fairytale, out of a poem, out of all the written fantasies I love to escape into; and it’s perfectly pleasant, but I don’t feel much of anything besides amusement.

“E un piacere conoscerla, signore,” I reply in practically flawless Italian. Meaning: It’s nice to meet you, sir.

“Ah!” Joe gasps, still grinning, still holding my hand. “She’s wonderful, no?”

“I figured we’d just try to find an inn somewhere,” Ben tells Joe. He doesn’t seem bothered at all that Joe is touching me, doesn’t even seem to notice. Maybe he’d care if Joe tried to seduce the mule. “It’s only for a night, we don’t need anything fancy. We’ve slept in plenty of austere settings before. Nothing here will be less accommodating than the Siberian wilderness.”

Joe shakes his head. “No, no, no, I cannot allow this. You will stay with me and the other Italians, capire?”  

“We couldn’t possibly impose on you like that—”

“Ah, Beniamino, you are breaking my heart!” Joe exclaims with some more erratic rolls of his eyes. “You must stay with us. I cannot leave a friend out in the cold. Please, I beg you.”

“If you insist,” Ben replies, but he’s smiling.

“Fantastico! Follow me, my friends. The embassy has set up in a bellissimo old townhouse, very nice, very big, has a courtyard out back, a stable for the mule, some rooms with a view of the river. And more cats than you could ever find time to make the acquaintance of, eh?”

“Cats?” I inquire uneasily. Mother has a terrible dislike of cats, I think she was attacked by one as a child. Or maybe she’s just allergic to them. We’ve always had dogs: Anastasia’s Russian Toy, Papa’s huskies and shepherds, straightforward and perhaps even stupid animals that come when they’re called and present themselves unconditionally for whatever new torment their humans have thought up. I’ve rarely been around cats, and have always found them peculiar, almost unnerving, with their unpredictable movements and lofty indifference and changeable moods, as if they spend their whole lives just waiting for excuses to sink their claws into you.

“The Italian ambassador is rather obsessed with cats,” Ben informs me, wearing a smug half-smile, enjoying my discomfort.

Joe is apologetic. “You don’t like cats, signora Lana? Lana bella donna?”

“I’ll be alright. We’re very grateful for your hospitality, I’m sure the house is lovely. I’ve just always found cats to be rather…” I hunt for the right words. “Arrogant. Undomesticated.”

“Yes, you have so much in common,” Ben says. He climbs into the front of the cart and picks up the reins. The mule’s ears swivel as she awaits his commands. “Which way are we headed, Joe?”

Joe follows me into the back of the cart and gives Ben directions: muddled, half-English directions, and he keeps mixing up right and left, but directions nonetheless. He makes polite conversation with me as we bump along over the cobblestones: complimenting my Italian, asking about our journey thus far, guessing which part of Great Britain I hail from.

“It must be somewhere in the north, no?” Joe theorizes, peering at me thoughtfully. “York or Lancaster, maybe? I cannot quite place your accent. You don’t sound the same as Ben, that’s for sure. You are no London girl.” He wags a finger at me.

“Yes, it’s somewhere up north,” I agree, hoping he’ll change the subject.

We pass a number of street vendors selling everything from pierogis to handmade swords, and I watch paper and coins exchange hands with consuming fascination, the way I imagine some people watch bullfighting or card-wielding magicians. I have never bought anything. Once, years ago, Tati and Anastasia and I crept out of the Winter Palace unnoticed and skipped through the streets of Saint Petersburg pretending to be ordinary girls. We gave ourselves new names, wore the plainest dresses we had, giggled at how we were going to do all those mysterious things that normal people did: inhale the powdery sugar of the bakeries, browse through bookstores, haggle for cabbages and beets. But we quickly realized that we had no idea about money: how much things should cost, how to use it, how to get it. We didn’t have a cent between us. And then the Russian Imperial Guards found us and corralled us back to the palace to be interrogated by our decidedly hysterical mother.

“Can we stop?” I ask Ben when I see a tiny, crooked old woman selling handmade scarves. He sighs but—to my surprise—concedes and stops the cart without a struggle. “And, also, could I have some money, please?”

He groans. “Seriously?”

“I’ve never bought anything here.” The here I add for Joe, because it is reasonable that as a new employee in Sir Buchanan’s office I would have never purchased Russian goods on my own before. But Ben knows what I mean: that I have never purchased anything, ever. He roots around in his pockets before presenting me with a handful of coins. “Is that enough?” I ask, skeptical.

“It better be. Those are scarves, not sapphires. And hurry up.”

I hop out of the cart and peruse the old woman’s wares as Ben and Joe chat about embassy business, troop movements, their families, their friends. It occurs to me that Ben probably has a woman he’s courting back home, maybe even a fiancée, maybe even a wife, although he doesn’t wear a ring; it seems impossible that he would not have a woman waiting for him. I shouldn’t care about that, because in all likelihood I have someone waiting on me too, even if he doesn’t know it yet: David Windsor, the Prince of Wales, future ruler of the British Empire, tall and svelte and disciplined and refined and probably the greatest catch of my generation. I envision the prince as I last saw him two years ago at Christmas: charming and silk-smooth, ever-smiling, eloquent and blond. I find myself increasingly preferring blonds.

I sift through scarves until I find the perfect one: deep forest-like green with a bear stitched into it with silver thread. I hand my money to the old woman—nearly bent in half by her crooked back—and when she tries to give me half of the coins back I tell her in Russian to keep them. She needs money more than we do. I can see that in the cavernous lines of her wind-swept face, in the trembling knobs of her fingers that can somehow still yield beautiful things.

“We match,” I tell Ben as I clamber back into the cart, slinging the scarf around my neck, vaulting my eyebrows triumphantly. See? I can learn to do things for myself. I can buy a scarf just like anyone else. I can be someone besides an impractical, impassive royal waiting for the puppet strings of men to drop her onto the stage of their choosing.

Ben looks at me, the corners of his lips pulling into a strange smile I can’t quite read, and then urges the mule onwards.

~~~~~~~~~~

The makeshift, ever-in-flux Italian embassy is only a few blocks from the train station. The townhouse is brick and soaring and casts a long shadow over the afternoon street. And as Joe foretold, it is crawling with cats: Persians swishing their tails on the dining room table, Birmans curled up on couches, Himalayans glowering judgmentally from where they perch on staircase banisters, Norwegian Forest Cats stalking pigeons out in the courtyard. The townhouse is also crawling with Italians. They scuttle from room to room carrying stacks of papers and placing telephone calls and making those same amplified, unrelenting hand gestures that Joe has, speaking in those same loud and shameless voices. It must be in their bones. Habits that old are hard to pry out; the Italians have been quarreling with each other and aiming for targets farther than their legs can carry them since Rome had an empire of its own.

Joe has the luggage brought upstairs and shows me and Ben to a bedroom that is slathered in pink everything—paint, pillows, chairs, sheets—before he’s called away by another embassy employee. He makes a hurried apology, complete with hand flailing, and says he’ll see us in the dining room for dinner in an hour. I hope they’ve removed some of the cats by then.

When Joe is gone, I turn to Ben. “I’d like to wash my dress, the one I was wearing the day we left Tobolsk. The one that’s actually mine. I’m very grateful that you had the foresight to obtain clothes for me, truthfully, but with all due respect if I have to wear another pair of trousers or scratchy wool skirt I’m going to drown myself. I want to feel like me again. At least a little bit like me. Can you teach me how to wash a dress? I assume that’s something you know how to do.”

“It is, but we can find someone to do that for you,” Ben replies. “The Italian embassy has servants. Obnoxious, chatty servants, probably, but still servants.”

“I can do it,” I insist. “I can wash my own clothes. I’m not above that.” I do want to prove to Ben that I’m willing to do things for myself, that’s true; but I also can’t let anybody else handle the dress. They might feel the weight and edges of the Romanov jewels hidden inside it. And if Ben lost his mind over a photograph, I can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out about them.

“You’re going to tear your hands up. They’re not used to physical labor.”

“Then they’ll just have to learn to adjust like the rest of us.”

“Alright. Fine. But I don’t want to hear a single complaint out of you about blisters or raw spots or whatever else.”

“You won’t,” I fling back, chin raised haughtily.

“Jesus Christ,” he says, snickering. “You are exactly like a cat.”

He finds a metal wash tub, washboard, and box of powdered soap—or, more accurately, he follows my instructions concerning where to find them after I consult with an employee in Italian—and we go out into the courtyard together. He squats with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped, inspecting every move as I fill the tub with sudsy water, kneel beside it, and scrub the soaked dress against the washboard until my hands and shoulders ache, and then burn, and then go so numb and lifeless they feel like they must belong to someone else entirely. But each time Ben asks if I need help, I adamantly refuse; and if later he tells me to just admit it was a task more arduous than I was prepared for, I’ll refuse that too.

Between exhausted gulps of breath, I huff: “I’d like to go to church tomorrow morning. Somewhere nice, maybe even Saint Basil’s Cathedral. Before our train leaves for Saint Petersburg. I never thought much of church growing up, but now it might be my last chance to go.” Not thinking much of it is a bit of an understatement; I was always feigning coughs or headaches to avoid having to accompany my family to church, and Mother—being as frail as she is and having a particular empathy for the ill—would reliably implore me to hurry back into bed where I would be left to read in peace until mid-afternoon, when I’d miraculously recover; and when I rejoined the family, Tati and Anastasia would cast me viperous scowls of jealousy for being spared as Papa chuckled affectionately, knowingly, never divulging a word to Mother.

“No, no way,” Ben replies with an arrogant toss of his head, an accusatory wag of the cigarette gripped between his fingers. His blond hair flips from one side to the other, which I try not to pay any attention to. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to one of your freakish churches with all the colorful candles and the robes and the long grey beards and the gold everything and the swinging incense balls, all those absurd superstitions and rituals, it’s practically pagan. Priests stalking around like dodgy Santa Clauses. No thank you.”

“What are you, Anglican?”

“Naturally.”

“Well now I know I’ll certainly never see you again after this trip.”

Ben laughs, deep and rumbling. I’m getting better at making him laugh, which feels like an accomplishment. “What, because I’ll be on the wrong side of the afterlife?”

“I don’t make the rules. Just astute observations.”

“Do you really believe in all that? In good people floating up into some weightless, blissful paradise made of clouds and the bad ones going, where? Straight down to swim for eternity in the lake of fire?”

I begin wringing out the dress. Ropes of sudsy water patter down into the tub. I’m sure I’d be able to feel the lace-muffled edges of the jewels cushioned in the fabric if my hands weren’t so traumatized. I keep talking to distract Ben, to be sure he doesn’t notice anything: a snag, a bump, a telltale vestige that I have once again hidden something from him. “To be entirely honest, I’m not sure what I believe yet. I’ll end up joining whatever church my husband belongs to in any case. But if any religion is true, it’s probably the Russian one.”

“That’s rather egocentric of you.” Ben sounds disappointed now, like I’ve suffered a setback.

“Eastern Orthodoxy is far older than Anglicanism,” I point out.

“And? I’m older than you. Does that make me more trustworthy?”

“We didn’t just invent a new religion because our king wanted to get a divorce and impregnate some impertinent commoner.”

“So now you have a problem with impertinent commoners? Even the ones that hold your life in their unsophisticated hands?”

“Your hands aren’t so unsophisticated,” I mumble as I straighten my aching back, shake out the dress, and throw it over a clothesline strung across the courtyard. I’m not really sure what I mean by that, and Ben isn’t either; his pensive green eyes track me as I walk across the brick pathways that crisscross the gardens of autumn crocuses and viola incisa and Siberian fawn lilies, plants that can battle the descending winter’s cold and win, at least for a while. I struggle with the clothespins for a minute or two, but eventually I figure them out and secure the dress to dry overnight. I beam at Ben. See? I am useful. I am practical. I am capable.

Ben stands and rest his hands on his waist, those scarred and sturdy hands. There’s a lull before he speaks, a quiet threaded with brisk golden air and fading afternoon sunlight. “You win,” he says softly, smiling.

The back door of the townhouse squeaks open and Joe Mazzello steps outside to join us, wiping his forehead with the back of one hand and his shoulders slumped, looking flustered and depleted. He flips over an empty flowerpot and plops down on it with a great exhale.

“You alright there, mate?” Ben asks.

“Ah, it is a disastro, Beniamino.” They exchange a glance of two men who have known each other for years, who have invented a wordless language—nods, sighs, twitches of eyebrows—that only they can speak. The silence is long and heavy, and I feel like an intruder. Then Joe perks up and says: “So, you are travelling to Saint Petersburg to catch a ship.”

“Yes,” Ben admits.

“A ship that will take you far, far away from Russia.”

Ben hesitates. “Well…”

“To London?” Joe ventures. “The British ambassador is ailing, I have heard this. His retirement is imminent. Sir Buchanan will not need staff in this country much longer. He is going home soon, if he is not there already. And how fortunate for you, to escape all this ruin!”

Ben shows the palms of his hands, a helpless gesture. I can’t tell you anything about it, that gesture says. His lips are a tight, rueful line.

“Wherever you are going, it does not matter to me,” Joe says. “I do not need to know. But I do have a favor to ask, Beniamino.”

“Anything,” Ben replies. “You’ve been a true friend to me. And I’m not a man who acquires friends easily.”

I frown at him. I don’t like when Ben speaks ill of himself, when he underestimates his charm. Because he does have some, I’ve learned; it could use some sanding down around the serrated edges, sure, but it’s there.  

Joe grins craftily. “When you travel to Saint Petersburg, when you board this ship…you will take me with you.”

“But…but…” Ben sputters, not understanding. “Joe, mate…you’ll lose your job. Everything you’ve built here. The Italian ambassador won’t give you permission to leave.”

“I don’t care,” he declares with a flippant wave of his hand. “I don’t need this job. I’m going to America anyway. I’ve made up my mind. Half my family’s already there. I’m through with Europe and all its endless squabbling, I’m through with Italy, and I’m definitely through with Russia. The ambassador can stay here with his cats until these beasts eat him alive.”

“Joe…” Ben looks over at me like he wishes I would disappear. I stare back, impudent, unmovable, too slighted to give him what he wants.

“Beniamino, this country is done for,” Joe says gravely. “The Provisional Government will not hold. The communists are gaining support, gaining territory, every day their numbers grow. When the wheel turns, it will happen like that.” He snaps his fingers. “Overnight. No warning. I don’t want to be here when that materializes. Revolutions are a hideous thing, no matter what they might accomplish in the end. Bleeding and purging and guillotines in the streets. You learned about France in school, yes? It will be like that here, but worse, because the Russians are beasts and always have been. That fate is not for me. My head is too beautiful to end up on a spike.”

“I didn’t spend much time in school,” Ben mutters, distracted. He shakes his head, rubs his face with his hands. I watch him, questions burning in my eyes. He told me this wouldn’t happen. He told me not to worry. But Ben is too shellshocked to notice me. “I thought we had more time.”

Joe makes some more of his elaborate hand movements. “It could happen in a month, it could happen in a day. Only God could tell you, and I don’t happen to have his phone number or last known address, do you?”

Ben smiles wanly. “No, I don’t.”

“Then you will take me with you, and we will leave this miserable country behind together.”

Ben turns to me. I probably look like I’m offended, like I’m furious at Joe, but I’m not; my thoughts are back in Tobolsk with my family. No, not Tobolsk anymore; somewhere else, somewhere even more remote, more lonely, more powerless. What had Joe called the town? Yekaterinburg. A place I have never heard of before. In my mind, I see trees and stones and gaping wilderness. I see Papa chopping wood in the mist-cloaked early morning. I see Mother gazing vacantly out the window, her eyes rheumy with misfortune, calamity eating weakness into her bones.

Everything will be okay, I tell myself, because Ben can’t, not while Joe’s sitting here thinking I’m just some British typist who has no exceptional affection for the disgraced tsar and his wife and children. Soon we’ll be in Saint Petersburg, and then London, and then I’ll be safe with Uncle George and my family will be rescued within weeks.

“What do you think?” Ben asks me. A hollow courtesy; I’m in no position to say who accompanies us on this expedition.

“I have no objection to Joe as a travel companion. At least I’d have someone to speak Italian with.”

“Fantastico!” Joe rejoices, and rushes over to embrace me. It’s a new experience, brash and unbalanced, but strangely enough I don’t find this informal affection alarming. It’s not so bad, actually. “She’s wonderful, no?” Joe asks Ben for the second time today.

“She’s alright,” Ben replies with a shrug, looking at the ground, and Joe narrows his eyes at him.

We are beckoned inside for dinner, and we sit with all the Italians around a long wooden table laden with pastas and breads and glass bottles of olive oil, platters of cured meats and sharp cheeses, chalices of wine the color of blood. Rosemary and basil are in the air. Cats weave through our legs beneath the tablecloth, their spines arching, meowing for scraps of salami. I follow our hosts’ conversations, but I don’t say much; my thoughts are too preoccupied, my heart pulled towards an anonymous town too far away. I eat too little and drink too much. But I am cognizant that I am grateful to be seated beside Ben, a familiar face, a rare non-stranger in a world that seems so hopelessly strange. Each time he gets up to grab himself another hunk of bread or some salami to toss to the cats, I feel his absence like a fire snuffed out, like a patch of coldness in a drafty room.

Right as dessert is being served—generous slices of tiramisu being laid onto our plates by servants—and I’m good and distracted, Ben reaches out to turn over my left hand and grazes his fingertips across the angry red rawness that scours my palm. I snatch my hand away and glare at him, but Ben doesn’t look self-righteous or taunting. He just looks sorry.

“I told you you’d tear them up,” he murmurs, then digs into his tiramisu.

I may not entirely approve of the Italians’ abundance of cats, but I do approve of the bathroom adjoining my bedroom: it’s clean and roomy and pink and features a freestanding bathtub deep enough to soak in. As I draw the water—hot! steaming! a miracle!—and add soap to make bubbles, Ben appears in the doorway.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks.

“Taking a bath. Obviously.” My words slur; I stagger when I cross the bathroom to fetch a towel from the closet beside the sink. Oh no. This is why Ben has been restricting my wine consumption.

“You seem a little…” Ben considers me. “Impaired.”

“I’m celebrating having hot running water.”

“Taking a bath right now is probably not a good idea.”

“Au contraire, I think it is an excellent idea. Now leave so I can take my clothes off.”

“What if you fall asleep and slip beneath the water and drown or something?”

“Then I guess you’ll have to start over and rescue Tatiana and write your article about her. She’d make for better material, anyway. So graceful. So feminine. She’ll look lovely in the photographs. She’s the most beautiful Romanov daughter, you know.”

“Beauty is rather subjective.”

“I’m not in the proper condition to discuss philosophy with you.” I turn off the water. The tub is full and waiting. “Now please leave. That’s an order.”

“I’m not your subject, princess.”

“Grand duchess,” I correct, twirling on my bare feet, swishing my towel like the train of a ballgown.

“Dear lord,” Ben grumbles.

“Wait outside the door,” I offer. “I’ll talk to you so you’ll know I’m alright. I won’t be long, but if you don’t let me take this bath I’m going to go mad and probably murder everyone in this house, starting with the cats.”

Ben agrees. He shuts the bathroom door and sits just on the other side; I know how close he is because his cigarette smoke begins to seep under the door and into the bathroom, mingling with the steam, and now the foggy room matches the state of my mind. He asks me trivial things—what was the tastiest dish at dinner, which language is my favorite to speak, which variety of cat do I find the most off-putting—and I dutifully answer as I lather soap down my arms and legs, across my chest and belly, between my thighs, dimly aware of the impropriety of conversing with a man while I’m lying naked just a few meters away. Some might even call it erotic. My cheeks are flushed, and not just from the wine; but any nerves have evaporated. I splash around like a fish, blessedly careless, relishing the thought of Mother’s shock and horror when I tell her about this later.

“What do you think you’d be?” Ben asks through the door. “You know, in another lifetime, if you weren’t…the sort of person that you are.”

This puzzles me. I’ve never seriously considered a non-royal existence. “I’m not really sure. There are only so many options for women. I don’t care for blood and vomit, so I wouldn’t make a very good nurse. I am a terrible seamstress, and perhaps an even worse typist. And I can’t cook anything, not even an egg. I’m not elegant enough to be a ballerina. I’m not pious enough to be a nun. I suppose I could be a translator or something like that. I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to serve my own people in some way…even if they think they don’t want my help.”

“You could work in a settlement house,” Ben suggests.

“What’s that?” I crinkle my nose, even though he can’t see me. I’ve never heard of settlement houses in my life.

“They have them in cities. There’re some in London, and a lot in New York and Chicago. They’re places where immigrants can go to learn English and skills to get jobs. They provide medicine, childcare, meals, hope. You’d be quite the asset, speaking as many languages as you do. Think of all the Russian immigrants you could help.”

“Hm.” I sink deep into the hot water, washing the last of the soap from my skin. And then I can picture it with jarring, unpredictable clarity: leaning over some young mother’s shoulder as she practices her English alphabet, showing her just where to cross her Fs and her Is and her Js, gifting slivers of chocolate to her timid children. It fills me with an odd sensation of fullness, of a door opening. And then I let it float away like steam. My future is not to be surrounded by the fleeing and the impoverished and the lost. My future is castles and crowns, and—above all, the greatest joy of any royal wife—sons. I yank the chain of the bathtub plug and the water recedes with a guttural roar.

Ben takes his own bath as I towel myself off, slip into the nightgown that the Italians left on the bed for me, fluff the pillows, nestle beneath the blankets, inhale the scents of clean cotton and soap and (regrettably) cats. When Ben comes into the bedroom, he’s wearing dark blue pajamas and an aura of apprehension. He wrings his hands and peers around the room nervously.

“I think I should sleep with you,” he says.

“What?”

“In the room with you, I mean,” he amends quickly. “I don’t think anything would happen, but I don’t really know any of these people besides Joe. Someone could pick the lock, and there’s the window as well. I don’t feel right about leaving you alone.”

“That makes sense. I am extremely valuable cargo.”

“Yes,” Ben says, quietly and unsmiling.

“Well then.” I stack up frilly pink pillows to make a barrier between the two sides of the bed, like the Great Wall of China or the zigzag of the Moskva River. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Ben climbs into his side of the bed, his weight shifting the mattress. It’s a comforting feeling; it reminds me of my siblings creeping into my bed on early mornings to share harmless gossip and mischievous plans, of Tati, Anastasia, Olga, Maria, Alexei, my old life, the life I’ll have again when we’re reunited. Ben shuts off the lamp and we lay side by side in silence until I speak.

“So…tomorrow are you going to take me to what might be my last-ever chance to practice authentic Eastern Orthodoxy?”

Ben groans very dramatically. “We’ll see.”

And then I know—intrinsically, in my bones, all the way down to the marrow—that in the morning Ben will take me to Saint Basil’s Cathedral, towering and vibrant and busy enough that we can slip in and out invisibly, like ghosts flitting between shadowy rooms. He might complain, he might roll his eyes, he might annoy me, he might spend the whole time whispering jibes about the priests and all their intricate, impractical rites older than anyone can remember. But he’s going to do it.

“Thank you, Ben,” I tell him, meaning it more than I can recall meaning anything.

“Oh shut up,” he snaps, but I can tell he’s smiling. He rolls over and buries his head beneath the blankets until only the unruly tuft of his blond hair is still visible.

I spend a long time staring at the ceiling, and I spend even longer with my eyes closed trying to find unconsciousness like a dark, profound, soundless lake I can dive into. And at last I tumble into sleep imagining Ben’s lips feigning the shapes of ancient chants and candlelight flickering on his cheekbones like wildfire.

[dreadpirate]

After god knows how many hours of testing and fiddling around and going back and forth the game, SimPE, and Body Shop, I have here with me brand new shiny Alt Hoods.

Download link and more info under the cut.

Download: Main Hoods | Shopping Districts

REQUIRES: 

Nightlife expansion for all the alt hoods (for the Pleasure aspiration)

Open for Business for the Shopping District versions

Seasons for Riverblossom Hills

Pescado’s Creature Fixes AND/OR @simnopke‘s More Realistic Genetics so Alien eyes can be used on all skintones (WARNING: Creature Fixes unlocks the Delete button in CAS)

KNOWN ISSUES:

You need to change their appearance in the mirror to see the facial changes. You don’t need to do anything but you must click Accept.

Alt Veronaville’s scripted events is broken.

INSTALLATION INSTRUCTIONS

for main hood:  Put directly in your Documents\EA Games\The Sims 2\Neighborhoods folder AND/OR put in your -INSTALL LOCATION-TSData\Res\UserData\Neighborhoods folder. If you choose the latter, make sure you take backups of your existing templates first.

for shopping district: Put in your -INSTALL LOCATION-\The Sims 2 Open For Business\TSData\Res\NeighborhoodTemplate folder. This is meant to replace the templates by @meetmetotheriver so delete the B994, B995, and B996 folders if you have them.

FOR ULTIMATE COLLECTION USERS: follow the same instructions, except your base game folder is under Origin Games\The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection\Double Deluxe\Base, and your OFB folder is under Origin Games\The Sims 2 Ultimate Collection\Best for Business\EP3

What are Alt Neighborhoods? These are premade neighborhood templates, except I diverted quite far away from standard game canon and created my own, based on what, in my opinion, makes sense as far as personalities backstories are concerned. 

What changes should I expect compared to the regular neighborhood templates?

New faces. A lot of the premades are basically just your garden variety face templates with little to no alteration done. I took the liberty to create faces that look like a blend of a Sim’s parents, for example, or perhaps changed genetics based on assessing what’s present in the family line.

Aspiration changes. Some of the aspiration choices either just...don’t make a lot of sense, or are too concentrated on one aspiration (EAxis’s penchant for female Family sims, for example)

Zodiac changes. Some sims, especially those in the family bin, have zodiac signs that should be mismatched with their personality (as per EA’s patterns), but aren’t. These templates “fix” that.

New memories. Some dead sims have their memories restored (in case one wants to resurrect them), and some living sims have been given memories to flesh out their backstories a bit.

Job and skill changes. Some sims who started out as unemployed in a vanilla game have been given jobs and skills more appropriate for their life stage.

Photos? Here and here. Note that I used default replacements in the photos.

Full Changelog:

All of the changes in these templates. If you’re a purist/hate change, then those templates are for you. Otherwise, carry on.

Alt Pleasantview:

Appearance changes (need to change appearance to see changes):

New faces for the following Sims: Cassandra and Alexander, the Pleasant twins, all the Burbs

Gave both Caliente sisters alien eyes (with a green recessive)

Alexander changed from S1 to S2

Michael changed from S2 to S3

Memory Changes:

Job memories for those who got new jobs. Added additional Athletic career memories for Jennifer

Gave Nina a D report card memory (and added the corresponding Nina Got a D memory on Dina)

Gave both Calientes “rejected from Private School” memories

Gave Daniel, Mary-Sue, Don, and Nina sneak-out memories

Made Dan and Cass enemies (with Cass winning a fight against him as a teen)

Aspiration changes:

Bella: Romance to Popularity

Cassandra: Family to Knowledge

Dina: Fortune to Pleasure

Dirk: Fortune to Family

Lilith: Popularity to Knowledge

Michael: Popularity to Pleasure

Alt Strangetown:

Appearance changes (need to change appearance to see changes):

New faces for the following: Jenny, Johnny and Jill, Chloe and Lola, Loki, Nervous

Jenny and Jill's skintone changed from S1 to S2.

Jenny, Johnny and Vidcund have gray eyes, while Jill has alien eyes

Nervous Subject changed from S1 to S4 and given a face that is a blend of Olive + his original

Aspiration changes:

Lola: Fortune to Popularity

Erin: Popularity to Knowledge

Circe: Fortune to Knowledge

Lazlo: Knowledge to Pleasure

Gender Prefs:

Set Ripp Grunt, Olive Specter, Lyla Vandermorgan, Lazlo Curious, Kristen Loste, and Chloe Curious as bisexual.

Memory changes:

Creates memories of an affair between Lyla Vandermorgan and Olive Specter.

Alt Veronaville:

Appearance changes (need to change appearance to see changes):

New faces for all the Capp and Monty main branch teens (thanks to @maxismatched)

Gave Hermia blonde hair and changed genetics accordingly. Her brows are still red though, but a trip to the mirror will fix that.

New face for Albany (thanks to revolvertrooper @ GOS)

New faces for Hal, Desdemona, and Ariel (thanks to @meetmetotheriver)

Memory Changes:

Made Patrizio and Consort fall in love with each other as teens (+went steady) - inspired by @yakumtsaki​‘s No Love Lost 

Added a rebellious teen phase for Goneril (sneak out + busted + D report card + runaway + grew up badly memory for teen to adult)

Added a love triangle storyline for Regan/Antonio/Hero in their memories

Albany's first "first kiss" attempt to Goneril was rejected

Added "married a rich sim" memories to all the Capp spouses

Made Cordelia's commitment memories red to reflect new aspiration

Added the new job and promotion memories to the second gen Capps

Cornwall had an affair with Goneril and Cordelia, and Hermia and Hal are his kids with them

Gender Prefs:

Set Consort Capp, Patrizio Monty, Regan Capp, and Hero Monty as bisexual.

Aspiration changes:

Cordelia: Family to Romance

Tybalt: Popularity to Family

Juliette: Family to Popularity

Hermia: Family to Knowledge

Goneril: Fortune to Popularity

Titania: Family to Romance

Oberon: Knowledge to Pleasure

Puck: Popularity to Knowledge

Antonio: Knowledge to Family

Bianca: Family to Pleasure

Mertucio: Popularity to Family

Alt Riverblossom Hills:

Relationship Changes:

Added new couples: Cat/Betty and Patricia/Cleo, plus a crush relationship/ex-teenage sweethearts storyline between Alexandra and Stella

Morty and Alex have a negative relationship, and same with Stella and Gabe

Made Jacob and Jules have a negative relationship, and Jules and Sandra best friends

Gender Prefs:

Set Particia, Stella and Sandra as bisexual

Set Catherine, Betty, Alexandra, Jules, and Cleo as lesbians

Appearance Changes:

New face for Jules

Sandra's skin changed from S3 to S2 (none of their relatives go darker than S2)

Aspiration Changes:

Morty: Knowledge to Fortune

Sandra: Family to Fortune

Gabe: Knowledge to Family

Alexandra: Popularity to Fortune

Andrew: Fortune to Pleasure

Jacob: Popularity to Pleasure

Cleo: Fortune to Popularity

Leod: Fortune to Knowledge

Memory Changes:

Gave Gabe a “Rejected Proposal” memory

Gave Alex and Stella memories of going steady as teens

Job Changes:

Switched Catherine and Betty to the Adult track of Education and Law, respectively and increased their levels to level 6.

Increased Stella’s career level to level 5

Increased Sandra’s teen career level to level 2

CREDITS

@meetmetotheriver for the original templates

@maxismatched, @lilith-sims, @whattheskell for some of the faces I used

@yakumtsaki for the inspiration for Consort and Patrizio’s memories

@moocha-muses for feedback on the aspiration changes

Everyone of the Maxis Premade discord server for the feedback and support

@plumbobpost for the idea for Olive and Lyla

[franz-katka]

listen I’m not in the JP fandom or anything like that but I literally thought of a mythology AU a few days ago and?? I’m down for it for some reason?? I just need an excuse to write it down so I don’t forget it shhhhh-

this is low-key long so i’ll just keep the concept list down here

here’s some concepts in case you’re curious:

malcolm is basically a cassandra-type oracle who can predict the future but nobody believes him

all the creatures are replaced with mythological animals so like

pterosaurs would be griffins

raptors are hellhounds

herbivores would be hippocampi, unicorns, etc.

the moasaur is a sea serpent

the dilphosaurus would probably be a peryton idk

all of the dna is derived from existing animals (don’t @ me about the biology behind this because the franchise already takes serious liberties with it)

for more difficult creatures (like the hydra for the t-rex), birth defects are deliberately engineered to achieve the desired effect

the creature lives for a shorter amount of time but hey it attracts money

there’s a lot of variation allowed (ex: two griffins can look radically different depending on what bird/cat dna was used to create them)

as for human/hybrid animal hybrids the people can get traits depending on how much they’re exposed to the creatures

so for example a person spending a lot of time around the pterosaurs would eventually gain harpy traits

raptors ---> werewolves; herbivores ---> centaurs/fauns; moasaur ---> nagas (you get my point)

don’t ask me about this either. the biologists don’t know why this is the case

many visitors actually gain quick traits (like a small feather or the desire to drink more water) after leaving the park but nobody cares like 99% of the time

actually i played myself usually the changes are initially behavioral and become more physical as exposure is increased

example: someone exposed to griffins would initially have a preference for meat and a desire to groom themselves a lot, then they start growing feathers after a bit

the exposure thing pretty much never actually influences someone’s genetic makeup, with the exception of people injecting themselves with critter dna to give themselves them abilities

so yes even people who have worked with one certain creature for years will gradually lose their acquired traits if they move back to the mainland (though guessing from what happens in the most recent movie, more people besides the workers will get snazzy traits!! yay!!)

still any babies born will be fully human unless someone injected themselves with DNA or whatever. then it gets complicated

as for the injections it has the chance of screwing up people’s immune systems because of the foreign DNA in their bodies

[ambernorman222-blog]

Step-By-Step Guide: How to Write the Perfect Persuasive Essay

What's a Persuasive Essay and can i order it at https://broessay.com/?

A persuasive article, also called an argumentative composition, is a bit of academic writing in which you employ logic and rationale to demonstrate your viewpoint is far more valid than some other. You have to expose clear discussions and encourage them by persuasive facts and plausible factors.

Persuasive Essay Topics

Do you understand what the biggest difficulty with these kinds of missions is? Pupils do not get enough directions. Sure, they may ask the professor to its persuasive composition definition, however, the directions will not go much farther than that. You are going to be left with a overall theme and also a necessity to fill out the essay by a particular deadline.

With this kind of lack of info, it is tough for you to receive thoughts that would ignite your inspiration for academic writing. You do not have an exact subject, and that means you've got to begin from this step.

What name do you place? We are going to propose a few college persuasive essay subjects from other regions of research. This listing can allow you to realize how great persuasive essay subjects seem like, and it'll get you motivated to begin writing the undertaking.

You will notice that the majority of these themes are put from the arrangement of a query, so that they provide you with a fantastic base to state and protect your own opinion.

Should gambling be prohibited in the united states?

Are cats pets than dogs?

If every household have a thorough survival strategy for natural-disaster scenarios?

Should kids get payment out of their parents to doing house chores?

Should homosexual couples be permitted to adopt kids?

Are good-looking individuals being underestimated since they look great?

Can it be a great or a bad thing for the society?

If God does not exist, is what permitted?

Are there any such things as good and bad?

Are people greedy?

Is fact universal?

Is human behavior influenced by genetics?

If the government be spending a lot of our cash about the Olympic Games?

If psychiatrists and priests violate their vows asked to testify ?

If people undergo psychological testing prior to being permitted to have kids?

Should individuals with disabilities be counseled never to have kids?

Should soccer teams be blended concerning gender equality?

Should authorities use cyber-attacks to spy on other nations?

If there be boundaries between nations?

Is nationality a warranted concept once the planet is moving towards globalization?

Should same-sex unions be permitted or prohibited in the united states?

Is euthanasia unkind?

Is sex orientation based on youth?

That was a fairly long list of persuasive article thoughts, was not it? The more choices that you have, the easier it'll be for one to comprehend exactly what this kind of mission requires. You probably heard that topics above took your simple view and left area for a dialogue.

You need to pick a subject that motivates you to compose, but in addition provides you plenty of stuff to study. This sort of paper is significantly based on study information, and thus don't opt for a subject that does not offer you access to plenty of tools.

We have the sort of mission clarified and we motivated you with a few topics, it is time to get the actual lesson: How can you write a persuasive newspaper? Before we begin with the step-by-step manual, let us go through several general tips that Can Help You complete the job:

Establish your position directly from the start, and keep it through the paper. If, by way of instance, you're writing a persuasive paper about the lady's right to abortion and you opt to encourage the pro-choice motion, you are going to need to make that position clear in the debut, and you ought to keep it powerful throughout the newspaper.

This is a kind of paper which needs facts. Find info in the kind of data, scientific experiments, and study materials that help your own arguments.

Construct the disagreements in development, and that means you are going to proceed in the least important for the main one. This gradation is going to continue to keep the reader's attention and will convince them that you are standing your ground at the conclusion of the paper.

Your professor would be your viewer for the persuasive essay. But you still ought to write this newspaper as though you were describing things to a newcomer. Assume the reader does not understand anything about this situation. Through the entire body of this essay, you're defend your perspective, but you will also supply advice about the conflicting places, so the reader will be aware of what you are arguing against.

Disproving the conflicting claim is among the very best tactics to demonstrate your view. Therefore, you are going to be looking for tools not just to support your perspective, yet to refute the conflicting rankings too. In academic writing, this strategy is known as refutation.

Specific, applicable, and realistic cases are able to make your place more powerful. Though persuasive writing is about real facts, you might also utilize renowned or less-known illustrations to show your view.

There are 3 Chief components of writing to recall:

Logos -- that the appeal to logic and reason. You say it using details introduced in a logical manner.

Ethos -- that the appeal to integrity. In writing, you have to convince the reader that you are right in an ethical perspective.

Pathos -- that the appeal of emotion. You need to wake the reader's empathy, anger, despair, or another sort of emotion, and that means you are going to create your primary argument more persuasive.

That is the way that it can convince your reader to think about and even embrace your perspective. However, how can you achieve this kind of impression? Just how do you write a persuasive newspaper?

As soon as you select your subject and you also do enough research, you are going to be prepared to consider the construction of your document. From the outline, you're write short tips on which you plan to incorporate in each part of this newspaper.

Let us say that you are composing an article on the subject"Is feminism warranted now?" , You Might intend to add these points through the articles:

Intro:

Some background: why didn't feminism begin and what exactly did the motion to stand against?

Yes, feminism is warranted (main debate )

Thesis statement: Feminism is warranted because though women in Western civilizations have more liberty than some girls from throughout the world continue to be oppressed.

Body:

First paragraph: that the lifestyle of women in Western societies isn't exactly what feminists were originally fighting .

Second paragraph: girls in most cultures continue to be oppressed.

Third paragraph: assert the conflicting view that feminism is redundant in the current societies.

Conclusion

Restate the thesis statement and also reveal how you demonstrated it.

As you may see in the case of a persuasive essay outline previously, this looks like a fairly standard article with these primary components:

Introduction, in which you're present the subject and also expose your own thesis statement.

Body, in which you are going to say your details and establish your thesis together with disagreements, and reevaluate the arguments of your competitors.

Conclusion, where you're bring down all points to a reasonable end.

Whenever you have your outline prepared, it'll be simple to begin with the real writing process. Nonetheless, the introduction could provide you a bit of trouble.

The absolute most significant part the opening is that the crystal clear and succinct thesis statementsthat defines your own perspective, in addition to the path that the whole essay will take. Prior to this thesis statement, you need to"hook" the reader. You might do this using a fact linked to a subject, an anecdote, a quotation, or possibly a definition. Consider something which would help keep your reader thinking about your newspaper.

A good introduction will flow towards the human body paragraphs, which can show the thesis statement together with powerful arguments.

How to Write a Decision to get a Persuasive Essay

It is odd to observe how many pupils write the principal areas of the persuasive newspaper and get stuck with this debut. You have to pay good attention to the part of this newspaper. It is not there just as your professor said ; it is there since it must balance out the composition and direct the reader towards a more reasonable decision.

It is a fantastic idea to restate the principal debates and reveal how they establish the thesis statement. Do not simply paraphrase what you wrote. Show precisely how a point of view is the ideal position to get on this particular matter, and encourage your reader to do it.

Conclusion

It is no wonder the persuasive newspaper is among the most frequent missions you obtain in the school. This kind of article reinforces your abilities of persuasive believing, talking, and writing. If you master these skills, you will be more ready to tackle some expert challenge later on, whatever the profession you select.

[our-connection-is-a-miracle]

More science! I was wondering what you thought about sensoriums being considered a distinct species? Ik theres controversy around it, but in bio a species is defined as "individuals who can reproduce and create viable offspring." So, I argue the show is wrong to classify sensates as a separate species; theyre not morphologically, genetically, or reproductively isolated from sapiens. Rather, theyre just carrying a different genotype of a shared gene (connections turned ON or OFF). Thoughts?

Hi there! I just posted a long-ass meta that has to do with this a bit, if you wanna read that.

Basically, I absolutely 100% agree with what you’ve said here. The show unfortunately uses the term “species” incorrectly. But, as I said in that post I linked above, there are some liberties that can be taken with the term that might allow them to use it very precariously for what they want it to mean.

The truth is that what we know as a species - a group of organisms who can reproduce and create viable offspring amongst themselves - is only mostly accurate. The fact is that nature is much more complex than that. Nothing is ever black and white, nothing is ever a defined line, and there’s always going to be things that defy our linguistic efforts to define the world around us. Nature isn’t made with precise terminology in mind; everything always blends a little bit into the next thing.

What happens, for example, with asexually reproducing organisms? Are two bacteria part of the same species if they can’t even create offspring at all, viable or not? But sticking to sexual organisms, a great example that defies the box of “species” is acutally cats. We all know the classic example of the “liger” - a lion/tiger hybrid that is infertile, hence supporting the standard definition of species. But many other types of cats can breed and successfully create viable offpring. Lynxes and house cats are one example. But no one ever talks about these, because That’s Doesn’t Fit Goddammit Shut Up.

My main objection to the show’s use of species was that no way in hell would an organism of one species (ie a sapiens) give birth to one of another (ie a sensorium) just like that, black and white, not thousand-year-long evolutionary period required. But technically they can, if you take into account how Fake species are in the first place, so I had a moment of ….maybe….? I guess….?

BUT then I realized that there was absolutely no way in scientifically accurate hell that two parents could give birth to two children who were each of a separate species, as is the case with Dr. Ruth al-Saadawi - she was a sapiens, but her twin sister (TWIN SISTER ffs) was sensorium. And that’s what absolutely convinced me they were using the term wrong.

It’s best to think of sapiens and sensoriums as different breeds of the same species, like dogs. Breeds are also a human construct used to identify very clearly different traits in individuals of the same species. Like you say, “theyre just carrying a different genotype of a shared gene (connections turned ON or OFF)”

[lins-fandom-hub]

weird asks thing

from this post

okay here we go

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Tea cups and coffee mugs! Not that I’m a firm collector. I just happen to have them is all.

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Chocolate bars.

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Cotton Candy!!

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Hyper, not very cooperative, loud

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

Soda bottles, though I wouldn’t mind glass cups.

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

Huh? I...tend to go casual, and the colour scheme doesn’t matter to me much. I’d say tomboy if I have to pick from this list though.

7. earbuds or headphones?

Headphones--if I could find a nice pair.

8. movies or tv shows?

Movies. I don’t know any TV shows.

9. favorite smell in the summer?

Freshly cut grass after mowing the lawn.

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

Don’t even talk to me about P.E. The only thing I remember from it was the stress that dodgeball brought around.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

Eggs, bread, oatmeal. Nothing too fancy. Sometimes I actually make a breakfast sandwich with avocados and cheese, but if said items weren’t in the fridge...

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Windows Down 2k18. Has tracks from many different artists and eras that I actually like to listen to. No classical though, that’s another playlist.

13. lanyard or key ring?

Lanyard. Can’t get enough of them back in university.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Fuzzy Peaches.

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

The Magician’s Nephew by C. S. Lewis.

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Mermaid pose? On the floor, at least.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

A pair of black Adidas shoes my mom recently bought this year for me and my sister. Turns out that my sister wears the white pair more while I wear the black. Not that I mind.

18. ideal weather?

Sunny with no chance of rain.

19. sleeping position?

Mostly on my right side all curled up.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Depends on my mood. Sometimes my computer for fanfic novels. Sometimes my notebook if I have secrets to spill.

21. obsession from childhood?

Does Disney count?

22. role model?

Idina Menzel.

23. strange habits?

Talking to myself (a lot), singing at my desk (or humming), twirling my pencil too much. 

24. favorite crystal?

White Calcite.

25. first song you remember hearing?

Ummm...the wheels on the bus? I can’t remember.

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk around the park and catch Pokemon (in Pokemon GO).

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

Go ice skating!

28. five songs to describe you?

“Speechless” - Naomi Scott

“Blown Away” - Carrie Underwood

“I Dare You” - Bea Miller

“Bless Myself” - Lucy Hale

“Can’t Be Tamed” - Miley Cyrus

29. best way to bond with you?

Walk through the park with me. Or talk about stuff with me. Anything, really, so long as it doesn’t bore either of us.

30. places that you find sacred?

Any place that holds a tall temple.

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

a pair of denim shorts and a black t-shirt. or if it’s in the winter, a pair of jeans and a comfy hoodie.

32. top five favorite vines?

I don’t watch vines. Welp.

33. most used phrase in your phone?

Welp.

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

For a while it was this Liberty ad I remember watching while I was in the States, but that’s pretty much it...

35. average time you fall asleep?

On school nights, 12 am or so, maybe 2 am at latest. Right now, about 10 pm or so.

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

anything involving grumpy cat.

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase! Makes things feel more official. 

38. lemonade or tea?

Lemonade.

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

Lemon meringue pie!

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

At least once a term it’s turned into the biggest Humans vs Zombies war zone ever.

41. last person you texted?

my mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

jacket pockets!

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodies!

44. favorite scent for soap?

Anything floral works.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy.

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

my pyjamas!

47. favorite type of cheese?

Havarti. But that’s because I eat it so often.

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

Probably a grape. Or a bunch of grapes.

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

“When you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot in it and hang on.” ~Thomas Jefferson

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Any GIF from Hamilton the Musical.

51. current stresses?

Job searching and updating stories on Wattpad.

52. favorite font?

Comic Sans--NOPE. Tahoma or Verdana, I guess.

53. what is the current state of your hands?

Fairy smooth, I guess? Though the nails are misshapen due to my horrendous attempts at cutting them, and my pinkies are curved due to genetics passed down from generations past. Whee.

54. what did you learn from your first job?

I learned that not everyone will treat you with the same respect, and that you have to look past that flaw to give them a chance.

55. favorite fairy tale?

The Goose Girl.

56. favorite tradition?

Anything Chinese New Year related.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Depression in the wake of my grandfather’s death; lack of confidence after my parents’ condemning; lack of concentration following a head injury

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Playing the piano, playing the violin, singing on pitch, and opening bottles with lids screwed on too tightly.

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“Don’t even try to mess with me.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

I don’t even know the first thing about Anime, so I don’t even know how to answer this.

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“That’s my girlfriend, you numpties!” ~Ron Weasley

62. seven characters you relate to?

Anna - Frozen

Rapunzel - Tangled

Katniss - The Hunger Games

Tris - Divergent

Rowan - HPHM

[insert 2 other characters here]

63. five songs that would play in your club?

“Turn Down for What” - DJ Snake ft Lil John

“High Hopes” - Panic! At the Disco

“Dance, Dance” - Fall Out Boy

“Victorious” - P!ATD

“Kill This Love” - BLACKPINK

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Webkinz.com or Poptropica.com

65. any permanent scars?

One on my right knee from an unfortunate slip on ice in the winter four years ago.

66. favorite flower(s)?

Daisies, lilies, or tulips.

67. good luck charms?

depends on whatever holds more sentimental value. For now, it’s a little Niffler that I crocheted off a YouTube tutorial (and its name is Nuggets.)

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

I typically don’t like anything too spicy, but I really hate the taste of mushrooms. Not the Asian ones--Baby Bellas, specifically. Just...no.

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Currently not applicable.

70. left or right handed?

Right handed.

71. least favorite pattern?

Huh?

72. worst subject?

Gym.

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

I’ll get back to you on that.

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

7 or 8.

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I was...five or six? Still fairly young.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Anything that’s a mix of fries or tater tots! Those are just--mm.

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

I’m not much of a plant-grower but any small plant works fine. 

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Sushi from a grocery store, please.

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

School ID photo.

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Jewel tones.

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies. What are lightning bugs??

82. pc or console?

Console--and here I wish I still had one!

83. writing or drawing?

Writing. 

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Talk radio.

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie--mostly because I didn’t know Polly Pocket existed until I was like 10 or 11.

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Fairy tales. 

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Cupcakes! Cookies! Can I say both???

87. your greatest fear?

People stabbing me to death with nothing but words of betrayal on their lips.

88. your greatest wish?

Hey, if I told you that, it wouldn’t come true.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My little sister.

90. luckiest mistake?

Haven’t had any recently.

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes. 

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight!

93. nicknames?

Never had any, though someone in an old English class I used to teach thought it’d be funny to call me Crayola. 

94. favorite season?

Spring!

95. favorite app on your phone?

Pokemon GO for now.

96. desktop background?

A picture I took last summer of a monarch butterfly landing on a pink flower.

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

None? Okay, like, 3, but mostly because they’re really important numbers.

98. favorite historical era?

Music speaking, the Classical era. Otherwise, I don’t know, I haven’t studied that extensively into history.

[lawrence9gold]

The United States of Money

Get ready to change your attitude because, if you're honest with yourself, you may see that you have to, after reading what follows. First, allow me to disabuse you of the notion that the purpose and function of government is for you to make more money. That's not the function of government, its responsibility, or even its ability. The purpose of government is to create a safe social container for the advancement of all aspects of civilization -- providing the common defense, promoting the general welfare, and securing the blessings of liberty for all its citizens. The purpose of a democracy is to make liberty safe for its citizens. You may have been suckered in by the pronouncements of politicians and economists, which say that the actions of governments can "create jobs" and wealth, whereas the ability of any government to do so is small, slow, and unreliable. Changes come from the bottom, up, not from the top,down.

THE MOST FOOLISH ECONOMIC THEORY

Perhaps the most foolish, if not altogether ridiculous economic theory is, "Trickle-down Theory" -- which seems to suggest some sort of mechanistic automaticity by which wealth at the top trickles down as a result of some sort of "economic gravity". It's foolish because it overlooks human behavior as the primary mechanism of wealth distribution. Wealth trickles down only if those who have the wealth want it to; and they generally don't. They want to accumulate wealth, not share it. Trickle-down Theory is bogus, a false lead, a ponzi scheme that serves entrenched wealth. To drive the point home about human behavior controlling the flow of wealth, there is an adage: "The stock market is driven by two forces: greed and fear." Its truth is evident, to you, if you play the stock market (or cyber-currencies) and are honest about your motivations. No, government can't create jobs or wealth. It can only cause the loss of jobs and wealth by incompetence and foolishness -- such as tax breaks for the wealthy, sabotage of ideas like universal health care (an idea resisted by health insurance companies and the pharmaceutical industry), perpetuation of The Fed (which isn't a federal institution, at all, but a privately held banking scheme that charges the public interest for generating fictitious dollars and placing them in circulation), and impediments to innovations ("disruptive technologies") such as sustainable energy sources -- so that the gravy train continues to feed the entrenched wealth of those who make their money from old ways of doing things. Jobs come from businesses in the private sector filling the needs of the public sector -- and that includes public infrastructure projects.

FILLING NEEDS vs. PROFIT-MAKING GIMMICKS

Just to distinguish needs from profit-making gimmicks, "Fancy Feast cat food" is not a need (unless you consider the need of seniors who can't afford both food and medicine). It's a gimmick. So are self-driving cars, violence-based video games and virtual-reality entertainment. So are genetically-engineered seeds and chemicals that make growers dependent on companies that have patents, while despoiling our environment and forcing plants to grow without adequate nutritional support from depleted soil to produce nutritionally deficient food. (If food lacks flavor, it lacks nutritional value.) So are many pharmaceuticals, including those for depression (epidemic), which fail to handle the actual causes of diseases (e.g., bad diet) and depression (one of which is the concentration of wealth in the wealthy and economic hardship for the rest).

SUCKERS FOR GOVERNMENT

People who attribute economic gains to government policies are suckers who have been sucked in by the self-serving bureaucratic propaganda of those who seek re-election and by The American Dream (that the greater the material wealth, the greater the happiness). The common person feels that, if economic times are good, those in government deserve re-election; if economic times are bad, "Throw the bums out!" (except, these days, people don't). Such a person is a simpleton who hasn't considered that governments don't produce wealth; they only consume it, regulate it, or direct it. Such a person fails to take into account economic cycles that result from rhythmic, large-scale human behavior patterns; from emergence of new technologies, tidal fluctuations of world markets, and from climate changes, so they misplace credit for improvements and misplace blame for setbacks. If people's understanding of economic changes were correct, we could regulate them better. The biggest beneficiaries of government spending are defense contractors who not only don't fill needs, but who create expensive instruments of destruction that should never be used and deprive the public of the resources for meeting human needs. Another foolish sentiment is that business is sacrosanct and that making money justifies any action, as long as it's legal (note, I didn't say ethical or moral). It's the spirit of the board-game, Monopoly: winner take all. Get the money and keep it. It's foolish because the flow of wealth depends upon the willingness of the general population to spend it -- which brings us to what is perhaps my most central point.

TRUST and PROFIT

Willingness to spend money depends upon trust. The failure of trust in commerce, in product quality, and in government is evident in the saying, "Caveat emptor!" -- "Let the buyer beware!" It's the recommendation that people treat all potential business transactions with suspicion. Suspicion slows commerce down. When "winner take all" is the mood of commerce and "legality", the measure of legitimacy, an economic climate of suspicion results. The climate of suspicion is made worse by people who sell gimmicks or half-baked products (like shoddy software or poorly designed tangible goods with obsolescence planned in) -- and by politicians who serve the wealthiest 1% instead of their electorate (composed mostly of "the 99%"), politicians who don't keep promises they make because they can't. The rapid-fire emergence of technological upgrades (such as the latest cell phone or high-tech watch) serves profit-making more than public need; such products promise to be what products should have been, to begin with: well-designed and lasting. There is no shortage of problems that need solving, and so no excuse for planned obsolescence or for gimmicks.

OVERSIMPLIFICATION

Still, people tend to evaluate government by whether they are making more money, rather than by whether more people, the society as a whole, are healthier and happier. They mistake more money and more "things" for happiness -- true only for the poor, for young people starting out, and for immigrants and refugees. They vote emotionally for short-term benefit, rather than intelligently, for the long term. It's a trait of undeveloped minds to consider only one issue in decision-making, rather than all the issues of which they may be made aware. Their minds can't hold it all and their critical thinking and feeling capacity has often been blunted or left undeveloped by an incompetent educational system, filtered news, degraded entertainment, and commercial propaganda. Very often, the information about that one issue is furnished by those who control the mass-communications media and who seek to manipulate public opinion for their own profit, fostering and perpetuating a population of naive suckers with strong opinions based on biased, spoon-fed information.

CONSEQUENCES

When money is the primary criterion for evaluating politicians and government policy, ethics and morality fall by the wayside. Societies suffer and civilization declines. And that's what we've been experiencing in The United States of Money: entrenched wealth meets a population of easily manipulated simpletons and helpless suckers. A final word: We have, in the office of President, a man who has admitted on camera that he is greedy and for whom making money is a priority. Prediction: He will be found to have been bought off by Putin's Russia -- the "Achilles Heel" (unsuspected weakness) of The United States of Money. Offended? Sick of the situation? Relieve yourself with The Gold Key Release. Then, act accordingly.

Click the Gold Key and follow the video.

https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YCCV_g8fspA/W1CvGArrfPI/AAAAAAAAl3U/TciQadzCTmseyQQ8-OfsNNFYWVFxwbBfgCLcBGAs/s1600/The%2BGold%2BKey%2BRelease%2Bapp%2BSTART.png via Blogger http://lawrencegoldsomatics.blogspot.com/2018/07/the-united-states-of-money.html

[trulightradioxm]

Allergies – The biggest lies of the devil!

Part 12 of TruLight Radio XM Articles on Healing – called “The Doctor Says – The Bible Says” Note our Previous articles was on Cancer – We are Moving to general illness – In this Chapter by Dr.Michelle Strydom MD

Allergies

About 40% of people world-wide have allergies, either simple or complex. Allergies are a mystery to most people. However I am going to give you insight into the spiritual, psychological and physical mechanisms that produce allergies. I believe that this knowledge will help set you free from allergies and enable you to take your life back.

Other names for an allergy is atopy, immediate type hypersensitivity reaction or Ig E mediated type hypersensitivity reaction. An allergy is a hypersensitivity reaction where a person is hyper reactive to an allergen. An allergen can also be called an antigen – this is the substance that is considered to be causing the allergy or hypersensitivity reaction. The allergen or antigen can be pollen, bee venom, animal hair (e.g. cats), fungus, certain medications (e.g. penicillin), certain foods, chemicals and many other things. Are you really allergic to all these things or did your enemy train you how to react to these things? Let’s find out…

In this chapter I’m going to take you on a journey into the Bible, into the physiology of your body and right into your bone marrow because allergies are a bone marrow issue. I’m going to show you how the thoughts that you have meditated on long term have lead to the physical manifestation of an allergy.

Parts of the body affected by allergies are: • Nose (Allergic Rhinitis) – hayfever • Eyes (Conjuctivitis) – hayfever • Skin – rashes, atopic dermatitis, hives, urticaria (which is an eruption of itching wheals), eczema. • Stomach and intestines (Food allergy) – vomiting, cramps and diarrhea. • Lungs – asthma.

A life threatening reaction called anaphylaxis can occur where the person can’t breathe because the airways get blocked by swelling of the tissues. How An Allergy Develops (Type 1 Hypersensitivity Reaction) There are seven words in Proverbs 17 v 22 that are the insight into all allergies. They don’t teach this scripture in medical school because medical schools don’t use the Bible to understand disease, because science only believes what it can see. I’m thankful to science because it allows me to see what God has created. However it was through the teaching of Henry Wright that I got this insight into allergies:

Proverbs 17 v 22: “A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.” (Amplified Bible). Right here in the Bible it says that a broken spirit dries the bones. It doesn’t say a soul, it says a broken spirit. Here we can see a connection between the health of the human spirit and the health of the bones. Now think with me through this: “What is drying of the bones?” I suppose we could think of osteoporosis which is deterioration or weakening of the bones due to loss of calcium and bone density. But we are not talking about osteoporosis, we’re talking about allergies. In Proverbs 14 v 30 it says that envy and jealousy cause rottenness of the bones which is what osteoporosis is. But we are not talking about rotting of the bones, we are talking about drying of the bones. So if it is not osteoporosis, what is left? Bone marrow!

Now what is in bone marrow? In the marrow is the origin of your blood: your blood is manufactured in your bone marrow. Your blood consists of red and white blood cells. In allergies you don’t have anemia which is a lack of red blood cells – the red blood cells are ok. So what is left? White bloods cells which is what makes up the immune system. When you have a weakened immune system you have a lowered number of white cells in your blood. Drying of the bones means a weakened immune system.

What compromises or weakens the immune system? It doesn’t say pesticides or chemicals or certain foods destroy the immune system – it says a broken spirit destroys the immune system. Right here in the Bible we see a connection between our spirituality and our body chemistry, right down to the health of our immune system.

Proverbs 17 v 22 says that a broken spirit dries the bones. What is a broken spirit? In the Bible the word “heart” means “the spirit” or “the soul and spirit” depending on the context that the word heart is used. So we could say that a broken spirit is a broken heart.

In Luke 4 v 18 Jesus said that He came to heal the broken hearted: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed and qualified Me to preach the Gospel of good tidings to the meek, the poor and the afflicted; He has sent me to bind up and heal the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the [physical and spiritual] captives…”

God wants to heal the broken heart. What is a broken heart? A broken heart or a broken spirit can occur in a person’s life spiritually when they were damaged by someone who was supposed to love them and didn’t. What are some of the life circumstances that can contribute to the broken heart? Well firstly in childhood we may not have been covered or loved like we should have been. Our families can be very dysfunctional. Our marriages can be very dysfunctional. What does dysfunctional mean to you and me?

It means we’re not at peace with each other. We don’t feel safe with each other. Henry Wright has dealt with hundreds of people with allergies both simple and complex over the past 20 years. He has found that multiple allergies follow a class of people who have been victims of one or more or sometimes all of the following five life circumstances, beginning in childhood:

1. Emotional abuse. 2. Verbal abuse. 3. Physical abuse. 4. Sexual abuse. 5. Performance, perfectionism and driven-ness – many times as children we grow up in families in which we’re accepted and loved based on our achievements (I discussed this issue on page 180 in the chapter I initially referred you to).

These five areas can produce fear that causes allergies. The fear is a result of the break up in the human relationship between the person who has the allergies and another person who is usually a close family member. The person does not feel safe in relationships and is not able to give and receive love without fear. In severe allergies like MCS/EI, the people are rooted in great insecurity, great mistrust and great fear.

In the Bible we see a connection between our spirituality and body chemistry, right down to the health of our immune system.

The other part of it is occultism. If you or family members in generations before you have been involved in occultism, this needs to be repented of because it can block healing (see the section on page 52 under the heading, “Separation from God’s Word”). Remember allergies can also be genetically inherited.

When you have fear and anxiety in your thought life coming out of a broken heart, you are in stage 2 and 3 of stress. In this toxic state there are high levels of the hormone Cortisol in your blood stream which damages the immune system. Remember, the cells of the immune system (which are the white blood cells) are formed in the bone marrow. There are two main types of white blood cells. There are T cells and there are B cells. The T cells are called killer cells – they directly kill viruses, bacteria and cancer that are dangerous to you. The B cells produce anti-bodies to kill harmful substances. But there are things that will interfere with your immune system serving you – high levels of cortisol kill the T-cells. When the T cells are destroyed, the B cells become over active because the cells of the immune system are out of balance.

The B cells produce too much antibodies, particularly an antibody called IgE. There is also an increase in cells called eosinophils. The antibody Ig E and eosinophils are cells of the immune system that were originally designed by God to kill parasites so that they don’t cause infection. Ig E antibodies and eosinophils are normally present in very small quantities in the body tissues of healthy people. However, the damage caused by Cortisol can cause the production of Ig E antibodies to be increased so that there are now very high levels in the body tissue.

High levels of IgE antibodies lead to an allergy as follows: The Ig E antibodies attach to the surface of cells called mast cells. Mast cells are present in tissue throughout the body, especially in the skin, lungs, the lining of your stomach and intestines, the mucous membranes of your nose and around blood vessels.

When the person is exposed to the allergen (antigen), it attaches to the IgE antibodies that are also attached to the mast cells. When the allergens attach to the IgE antibodies, the mast cells are activated and release substances that cause inflammation such as histamine, prostaglandins and leukotrienes. These substances cause the following:

• Increase in mucous production (e.g. in asthma) and runny nose (allergic rhinitis). • Contraction of the muscle in intestines leading to vomiting and diarrhea (e.g. in food allergy). • Contraction of muscle in walls of airways (asthma), making it difficult to breath. • Increased diameter of the blood vessels (vasodilation) and increased permeability of the blood vessels. This causes the water (plasma) in blood to leak into the surrounding body tissues, which results in swelling and redness. For example: • Wheal and flare reaction in the skin – rash, hives, urticaria, eczema. • Swelling of lips, itching and redness around the mouth. • Drop in blood pressure. • Swelling in the walls of the airways (asthma) – this makes it difficult to breath because the airways are narrowed and not enough air can get to the lungs. This is made worse by chemicals called leukotrienes which are also released from the mast cells. These chemicals cause the muscles in the airway walls to contract which further narrows the airways. The swelling also causes an imbalance in nerve control of the muscle in the airways causing the muscles to contract even more.

When you had skin rashes, itching, hives, urticaria, blotching, swelling and you went to the doctor, he most probably prescribed a topical cream. Did you ever look at the ingredients? When you look on the fine print of the tube that you squeeze, it’s an antihistamine. When you have an over production of histamine in your body (as described above), whether it involves your skin, nose, eyes or intestines, you have swelling.

When you have swelling you have pressure on your nerves and surrounding body structures and you get discomfort, irritation and/or pain. Anti-congestant drugs are often prescribed for sinusitis. My strong advice to you would be to avoid antihistamines and anticongestants as much as possible because they are addictive in the sense that once you start using them you end up using them all the time. Anti-histamines are the number one across the counter addictive drug in the world. Withdrawal from anti-histamines is as strong as the withdrawal from any other drug. Anticongestant drugs contain paracetemol which is a strong painkiller and therefore these drugs do give you relief from the pain of the congestion. However there are other ingredients in the anti-congestant that damage the cilia that line your sinus cavities. Cilia are structures that help keep the mucous flowing and help with the drainage of mucous. When these cilia are damaged, drainage of mucous is not good and this predisposes you to more sinus infections and more sinusitis… so you take the drug again… the cilia is damaged further… more sinus infections…do you see the pattern? So drugs are not the answer. Deal with the root issue and you’ll be free of the problem permanently.

WITH REGARDS TO ASTHMA: There are two types of asthma: Allergic asthma (also called extrinsic asthma) – this is a hypersensitivity reaction just as I have been explaining above. People with this type of asthma have large quantities of the Ig E antibodies. This is associated with a family history i.e. family members in previous generations have had asthma. It generally develops for the first time early in life, usually in infancy or childhood.

Non – allergic asthma (also called intrinsic asthma) – this type generally develops in adult life and is not associated with a family history of asthma. This is not strictly an allergic reaction as people with this type of asthma have normal amounts of Ig E antibodies. The inflammation is not caused by Ig E antibodies – instead it is caused by chemicals (inflammatory mediators) that are released from the muscle in the airway walls. However the rest of the pathological features of airway inflammation are exactly the same and both types of asthma have the same spiritual root.

In stage 2 and 3 of stress there is an excessive production of stress hormones, one of which is ACTH – the “Fear Hormone”. These high levels of ACTH attach to receptors in the alveoli (membranes in your lungs where oxygen is absorbed from the air you breath). This makes the alveoli become ‘stiff’, so that oxygen is not absorbed very well – which also produces the feeling of being out of breath and causes you to gasp for air.

Let’s continue with the explanation of how an allergy develops, so far I have explained that: • When you have fear and anxiety in your thought life coming from a broken heart and a breakdown in relationships, your body is in stage 2 and 3 of stress • You have high levels of stress hormones in your blood – one of these stress hormones is cortisol. • In high quanitities cortisol kills the T cells of your immune system. • This causes the T and B cells to go out of balance • The B cells become over active and they produce too much Ig E antibodies • These anti-bodies activate mast cells and the mast cells produce histamine, prostaglandins and leukotrienes • These chemicals cause inflammation and the symptoms of allergies. In this process various other chemicals are released that then stimulate an increased production of eosinophils.

These cells then release toxic substances (e.g. reactive oxidants) that cause a tremendous amount of damage to the body tissue in allergic reactions.

This leads to persistent (chronic) inflammation that continues even when the so called allergen is no longer present. The airways, skin, walls of the intestine (in food allergy) become hyper-reactive, with the allergic reaction happening even in the absence of the original allergen. Because that body tissue is hyper-reactive, it is like a woman with PMS – almost anything can irritate it. Almost any other substance can then cause this allergic reaction, for example (in the case of asthma) – cigarette smoke, respiratory infections, exercise and aspirin ingestion. I’m going to prove to you that you are not really allergic to anything. All you are experiencing is a physical manifestation as a result of excessive B cell activity. When cortisol destroys the immune system, it has nothing to do with food or dust or cats or whatever it is that you think you are allergic to. It is fear. When you come to me with an allergy, I know what your problem is – you have a broken heart. You are not able to give and receive love without fear because you don’t feel safe in love. That fear releases stress hormones such as cortisol that kills off the T cells of the immune system, causing an imbalance between T cell and B cell activity. As a result B cell activity increases. An allergy is basically excessive B cell activity. The degree that your immune system is damaged by cortisol, is the degree that your B cell activity increases. So allergies are really the result of a damaged immune system, not what you are eating or what you are exposed to in your environment. You are not really allergic to anything, you are simply experiencing a biological phenomenon of fear and the resultant consequences of excessive cortisol release, which includes a damaged immune system.

The medical definition of an allergy is an acquired abnormal immune response to an antigen that does not normally cause a reaction in most other people. If you come to me with an allergy, I know you have a damaged immune system, I don’t need to see your blood test results to figure that out. How many allergies you have tells me how much your immune system is damaged. To the degree that your immune system is damaged is the degree to which excessive B cell activity increases. The more B cell activity increases, the more allergies you are going to get. One person can have more than 100 different allergies. To the degree that your immune system is healed is the degree that your B cell activity is decreased which is then the degree to which the number of allergies decrease. Allergic reactions can range from mild to very severe. The most severe type of allergic reaction is called MCS/EI (Multiple Chemical Sensitivity and Environmental Illness). There are more than 250 000 people suffering from this illness today and it is one of the most rapidly growing diseases. People who have this disease are very miserable. Here is the story of one person with this illness: “I’m allergic to everything. I was exposed to pesticides about 10 years ago and since that time my immune system has been damaged and I’m allergic to everything. I can eat hardly anything. All that I can eat is the crust of the bread that has been burnt to charcoal. I weigh 75 pounds and I look like a skeleton wrapped in skin. I am dying and I have no hope. I cannot even bath because I am allergic to water on my skin. I’m allergic to heat and electricity – I can’t even be within 60 feet of a light bulb that is on or read a book. I’m living in a single room. I can’t be with my family. I’m in a room where the floors are lined with foil.

The walls are bare sheet rock; I’m sleeping on dismantled springs of a box spring that has been wrapped in a material that has been specially conditioned for a year. I’m on oxygen and respirators. I cannot leave this room to be in the presence of a human being for too long.” Henry Wright went to help this person.

When Henry Wright arrived at this person’s house, the person asked, “Has God shown you anything about my disease?” He said, “I’ve got to ask you a question. I want to know who broke your heart? I want to know what happened that has put this kind of fear in you? Who didn’t cover you with acceptance and love?” That question was the open door because what he had then was tears. From that point on the pastor’s hands were full. They got to the spiritual roots of the problem (fear from a broken heart) and dealt with it. On the 7th day this person walked out of the house for the first time in 5 years and went down to the local store, ate a fully loaded cheese burger with French fries, yogurt and ice cream. That was for lunch. In the evening they went out to the Sizzler and she ate all she could eat at the buffet. That began her journey out of a prison house. This person is still well today and the MCS/EI has never come back.

There are hundreds of people worldwide who are healed of MCS/EI and have never had a relapse simply through dealing with the fear and broken heart behind it. This is more than medicine has ever achieved. There is no drug or treatment to cure MCS/EI or any allergies. Medical drugs such as anti-histamines and corticosteroids only cause a little improvement and only temporarily dull the symptoms. The environmental ecologist, the allergist with all the modalities of Eastern mysticism, alternative modalities, allergy shots, homeopathy, rotation or elimination diets, sauna, supplements and other treatments have never produced any long terms healings of allergies or MCS/EI.

Food Allergies You may have your favorite foods and you may have foods that you don’t like – this is a matter of preference. When you have allergies you begin to lose those good things that you like. The first thing you begin to lose in allergies are of course your dairy products and that includes milk, things that you love such as ice cream and cheese cake. You also lose all of the sweet things because you lose your sugars and then you lose your wheats. All of a sudden all those things that God created for your pleasure and also for your benefit you begin to lose. Did God take these foods away from you or did your enemy train you how to react to these foods?

God does not want you to lose your foods. There is not any food that is evil according to Scripture but all foods are profitable if taken with thanks giving because they are sanctified by the Word of God and by prayer. 1 Timothy 4 v 1-5: “1But the [Holy] Spirit distinctly and expressly declares that in latter times some will turn away from the faith, giving attention to deluding and seducing spirits and doctrines that demons teach, 2Through the hypocrisy and pretensions of liars whose consciences are seared (cauterized), 3Who forbid people to marry and [teach them] to abstain from [certain kinds of] foods which God created to be received with thanksgiving by those who believe and have [an increasingly clear] knowledge of the truth. 4For everything God has created is good, and nothing is to be thrown away or refused if it is received with thanksgiving. 5 For it is hallowed (King James Version says sanctified) and consecrated by the Word of God and by prayer.”

Romans 14 v 14: “I know and am convinced (persuaded) as one in the Lord Jesus, that nothing is [forbidden as] essentially unclean (defiled and unholy in itself). But [none the less] it is unclean (defiled and unholy) to anyone who thinks it is unclean.” The scripture is for all of you who have food allergies: Numbers 13 v 27: “They told Moses, We came to the land to which you sent us; surely it flows with milk and honey. This is its fruit.” When the spies came back from the Promised Land, what was it filled with? Dairy products and sugar!

Yet these are the first two products that are often lost in allergies. The Lord gave you richly all things to enjoy – all kinds of food that are taken with thanksgiving are sanctified with prayer and the Word of God. There are many people who were allergic to various foods and are now eating normally today without any allergic reactions. Would that be a viable option for you?

Lactose intolerance in children is a result of inherited fear coming out of fear and insecurity in the parents that is transferred to the child. If the parents repent for this fear and command the spirit of fear to leave them and their child in the Name of Jesus, the child will be healed. The Bible says that children are sanctified by the believing parents. 1 Corinthians 7 v 14: “For the unbelieving husband is sanctified by the wife, and the unbelieving wife is sanctified by the husband: else were your children unclean, but now they are holy.” KJV Allergies, whether mild or severe, are anxiety disorders that compromise the immune system. The only way to get totally healed is to break this anxiety syndrome (stages 2 and 3 of stress) so that the immune system can recover. Then the allergies will fall away. There’s no point in using drugs like anti-histamines and corticosteroids to try to get rid of the allergies as that is not a long term solution. You can go and see twelve different specialists who will all prescribe a slightly different medication. People with MCS/EI have ended up going to as many as 30 different doctors and some of them spent up to one million U.S dollars in medical bills but they got nowhere…they were still stuck with their allergies. So let’s get to the root – let’s start from the inside, not the outside. An average doctor will tell you to avoid the allergen – don’t eat chocolate, don’t eat cheese, avoid nuts and shell fish etc. I’m here to tell you a startling piece of information – you have been lied to! You’ve been deceived with one of the biggest lies of the devil.

You are not allergic to anything. The culprit is an abnormal functioning immune system because of fear, anxiety and stress in your thought life. Next time you get a reaction, don’t say, “What did I eat”, say “What did I think?” You can eat anything you like! God said in Genesis 1 v 31 that everything He made was not just good – it was very good! Henry Wright has had a lot of experience and success in seeing people totally healed from allergies after dealing with the spiritual roots. The first thing that they do with people coming out of the food allergies is to get all the foods they ever wanted back into their lives. Do you like pizza? Go for it! Do you like chocolate and ice cream? Go for it! Enjoy that peanut butter and the dairy products! God gave you richly all things to enjoy.

In creation God made your body to be fully adapted and compatible to whatever you are exposed to in the environment. Satan knows that if he can manage to control your thought life, he can control your body chemistry and cause disease. Jesus said the devil is a thief that comes to steal, kill and destroy (John 10 v 10). The Bible says in Leviticus 17 v 11 that the life is in the blood so the devil knows that if he wants your life, he must get to your blood. Your blood is formed in the bone marrow and as you can now see allergies are a bone marrow issue. The destruction of your immune system was not an accident, it was part of an intelligent design to capture your marrow which is the origin of the life in the blood.

You are not really allergic to anything. What happened is that you allowed the devil to control your immune system – you gave him permission by allowing fear, anxiety and stress to dominate your thought life. Could God stop it? Well, He is not going to because He gave you a free will. It’s about time you know what your enemy knows about you so you can defeat him at the onset. You don’t have to be a victim, nor do you have to be ignorant or suffer from disease. Why don’t you take your life back before the Lord once and for all, and also tell your friends and family that you have been lied to?

When your friends and family tell you they’re allergic to this or that, tell them they have been lied to! Get involved in their life and find out what it is that they are afraid of. What is their stressor? What is their conflict? What is the unresolved issue in their life? Who broke their heart? This may be difficult for you to believe because the medical community is telling you just the opposite.

I am completely opposed to where the medical profession out there is coming from because they are still chasing the symptoms and the allergens. I’m after the root cause of allergies. They are saying that the cause is “chemical sensitivity” or “chemical injury”. I want to tell you that you are not reacting to any chemical.

How is it that the other 98% of our population living in the same environment, going to the same shops, schools, buildings and walking through the same bush with grass, flowers, animals etc don’t have this problem? You don’t have to be a doctor to use your common sense to work out that if the chemicals were causing damage or injury at a cellular level, we would all be sick with some kind of chemical poisoning.

Asthma The John Hopkins University Research Team proved something in 1996 that has changed the medical community’s belief concerning asthma for the past 50 years: they proved that asthma has nothing to do with what you breathe such as smoke, dust, pollen etc. The asthmatic attack is triggered internally from deep inside the person as a result of fear, anxiety and stress. Asthma is now considered an anxiety disorder in the medical field. The specific fear behind asthma is the fear of abandonment.

According to the Journal of American Medicine, if a child that has just been born is immediately given to the mother so that she can hold, talk to and breast feed her baby, asthma will be prevented in that child for the first 6 years statistically. Separate that baby from its mother by leaving it in an incubator or nursery somewhere because of complications and asthma is right around the corner because the fear of abandonment comes in. The same applies if you hand out your child to other people all of the time while they are small or if you send them to boarding school at the age of six and don’t see your child again for three weeks…the fear of abandonment and asthma is right on the child’s door step. Adults can also develop a fear of abandonment, for example when they are separated from loved ones. Henry Wright told the true story of a couple who went on holiday to Italy with their young child. They were getting ready to fly back home and at the airport the child was being a little naughty. In a moment of frustration and in an attempt to get the child to behave, the mother said, “If you don’t come here right now, I am going to leave you behind.” Within two days that child had asthma and she had it for years after that. One day the mother learnt through Henry Wright’s teaching that asthma was caused by fear of abandonment. The Holy Spirit instantly reminded the mother of what she had said to her child that day at the airport and she was convicted. She went to her child and she repented to him for saying that and released him from that fear of abandonment that came out of her words and that the enemy took advantage of. The asthma left instantly never to return.

What has been discovered is that it is not the cheese, nuts, bee or smoke, for example that causes the reaction: the thing that you think you are allergic to has programmed a response in you – fear. The cheese or smoke is not what you are reacting to, it is the reinforcement of the mental and spiritual stronghold in your mind that keeps you in bondage, and makes that smell or food with cheese or nuts a stressor. Henry Wright told one person with MCS/EI that it was his thought life, not exposure to chemicals that was causing his reaction. This man would not believe him. One day in a ministry session when he had his team with him, he casually walked to the window and said, “Oh! The bug man is here to spray the pesticides.” This man went into a massive allergic reaction just at the thought of it! He recovered from his allergic reaction in 15 minutes. Henry looked him in the eye and said, “There was no bug man.” This man was angry with him at first, but then he got the message. The same allergic reaction had occurred without the chemical or exposure to it. This man finally realized he had been lied to! This man is totally well today and praising God for his healing.

You can go back and take back every bit of ground that you have lost – every type of food, every building, every part of the bush and its flowers, every bit of clothing, everything you ever lost – you’re going to take it back. This teaching is exploding globally and totally revolutionizing people’s thinking about allergies. One pastor in America started applying these principles which he learnt through the ministry of Henry Wright. When he first started, 40% of his church had allergies. After two years of applying these principles in relationships, he now has an allergy free church.

Henry Wright is the pioneer of this insight into allergies. God gave him this revelation about allergies from Proverbs 17 v 22 in 1990. Twenty years later he is considered the number one authority on allergies in the world because the success they have had is second to none – there are literally thousands and thousands of people across the world who have been healed through application of this knowledge and insight. From the extremes of being forced by severe allergies to go naked, not being able to wear clothes, being unable to eat almost any known food, allergic even to water, with multiple allergies – these people are today living normal productive lives with no relapse. There are people who had over 100 different allergies and are totally healed today though simply dealing with the fear and broken heart behind it. If they can be healed simply by dealing with the spiritual root, how much more can you be healed from a cheese, chocolate, bee sting or whatever allergy? I’d like to give you your life back because it belongs to you. You can live a normal life because when God heals your broken heart (remember Isaiah 61 v 1), He’ll give you a blood transfusion even at the level of your bone marrow and when you have an immune system that has been healed, allergies are a thing of the past. I’m calling you to lay down your protective mechanisms and come out of your isolation because God wants to deliver you of your fears (Psalm 34 v 4, 2 Timothy 1 v 7).

When people have dealt with this one issue of fear and the broken heart, God instantly gave them a blood transfusion – not only in white blood cells but also in red blood cells. Henry Wright has seen people in hospital whose collapsed veins exploded back into life with red blood with a simple prayer of repentance. Your God can do lots of things when you get right with Him and meet His conditions for healing. Ultimately, your healing from your allergies is the removal of stage 2 and 3 of stress by renewing your mind which means changing your thinking habits. The more fear and anxiety in your thought life decreases, the more your immune system will start to heal. On the other hand, the more fear and anxiety increases in your thought life, the more the immune system is destroyed. The more the immune system is destroyed, the more you have an increase in allergies. As fear, anxiety and stress in your thought life goes away, the reactions go away, and that’s why a person can take back five to ten foods very quickly. It’s amazing to them. Why is it that one day they are reacting to a particular food, and the next day they find they can eat it, and can eat it from that day on? What changed? The food…the pesticides…the pollen… the cat? No! They changed! What did they change? Their thought life!

When you deal with your broken heart through forgiving the person who hurt you and you remove the fear and anxiety from your thought life through renewing your mind with the Word of God, you will no longer be in stage 2 and 3 of stress. Therefore the secretion of cortisol will stop and the T cells will be given a chance to regenerate. When the number of T cells increase, the B cells come back into balance and are no longer over-active. Therefore the production of excessive amounts of IgE antibodies stop and mast cells are no longer activated. Therefore less histamine is produced, the symptoms of allergies disappear and allergies are a thing of the past. It is as simple as that.

Pray this with me: “Father, I know that you can heal my broken heart. Please give me the ability to open my heart to receive Your love, peace and acceptance– that I will begin to feel complete in You because I am your son. I am Your daughter. I pray that Your Holy Spirit would nurture my spirit and heal the wounds in the depths of my being. Father I ask You to drive the fear out of my life. In the Name of the Lord Jesus Christ I speak to my immune system and command that cortisol to stop being produced in excess, I command the B and T cells to go back into balance, I command the IgE antibodies to stop being produced in excessive quantities, and I command the fear to be gone. I speak a blood transfusion to my marrow in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and I command my immune system to be healed! Amen.”

For asthma: “I take authority over the spirit of abandonment now and command you leave in Jesus’ Name! I command the cell membrane semi- rigidity in the airways and the alveoli of the lungs to be broken and my airways to be relaxed in the Name of Jesus.”

The good news is this: you are not allergic to anything! go and renew your mind and be set free in Jesus Name! We would love to send you 2 free eBooks by email! Just complete the form Below!

[mindpenis]

Abyss Chapter Six

Sometime in the pre-dawn, I heard my door being unlocked. I hadn't fully slept, instead dozing in a chair by the window, so I was fully dressed and came to awareness quickly. One of Damaris' servants entered; the woman, in fact, who bore resemblance to Marion, who I had seen returning to the house earlier. Businesslike in her manner, she requested that I accompany her downstairs.Once again I was brought to Damaris' grotesque library. Umaru, the Malay, along with the individual who bore superficial resemblance to Damaris were there, and right behind me came Marion, disheveled, her hair unpinned, apparently having slept more readily than I had. Marion was accompanied by the man who resembled me. Seated in a high-backed, cushioned chair that had been placed near her display-case of heads, sat Damaris herself.With that grisly background she looked as I imagined some barbaric queen in a cheap novel of antediluvian lost-civilization might appear, an impression gainsaid only by her tight-bodiced, modern dress. She wore no bandage at her ravaged throat, but a dark blue satin choker. Her legs were obscured by the fall of her long skirt, but they did not move – I wondered to what degree they had been splinted.I didn't expect her to be able to speak – her vocal cords could not have escaped damage from the throat-slitting – but I was wrong. Her words came in a whisper, but they were easily understood.“Remember,” she said, “I told you not to fear time or violence. Not when you are fully part of us.”I had numberless questions for her. But many I now wished to ask her alone.She quickly went on. “Tonight is New Year's, and soon enough you two will experience your own Depuration. But before that we have some old business to clean up. Earlier Clive, Elizabeth and Miriam,” she indicated the trio we had seen depart before our journey in the Archon underworld, “along with Umaru, spent the evening leading some of my daughter's associates across the city, ultimately to a house I own quite far from here, which they naturally and quite erroneously concluded to be the site of our Depuration. Grace knows that we are uniquely vulnerable after the first night of our rite. She tried to pry its location out of you, doctor...and failing that, put watchers on this house, which we have properly led astray.“The purpose was to in our turn follow those watchers, to see if we could discover where Grace herself is staying tonight. She moves about a great deal, and can be distinctly hard to pin down. She is, at this moment, in a brothel called the Solon, in the Liberty of Clink in Southwark, not far from the prison and Cross Bones graveyard.”“A brothel?”“Yes, James. The Solon is an establishment I know very well. A nest of women that periodically prey on their clientele using Archon life-extending techniques in a bastardized manner.”“And you let them get away with that?” Marion, ever attuned to the pragmatics of revenge, sounded surprised.“I'm not so linear in my thinking,” Damaris answered. “My daughter introduced them to those techniques, of course. Part of her effort to create a counter-force to our network of Archon servants. Crushing them would have been easy, but it's been in fact an interesting study to observe how our methods work while missing several key elements that only true Archons possess. The women of the Solon do indeed remain young, though time only pauses for them, not stops. Also, from time to time I have a wish to remove some servant of our order who has developed loyalties too focused on one of my six elite associates. By surreptitiously exposing that individual's identity to the ladies of the Solon, I can unleash cats upon a canary. Archon servants who have undergone our full rite in Africa are a potent delicacy for thieves of life like my daughter and her followers.”Damaris seemed to choke slightly on the last words. She raised a hand to her throat, massaging it while her breath caught in a ragged manner.“Are you all right, Mistress Ruha?” Marion asked.Damaris, after a moment, controlled the fit. “For a while speaking and swallowing will present a challenge,” she whispered. “Nor will I be able to walk without supports for a number of days. I believe Saklas was particularly irritated with me.”One question, at least, I wanted an open answer to. “Your fingers. One from each of the Archons. Why?”“So I could show you this, my dear James.”She held up her maimed hand. The side where the little finger had been removed was not bandaged. I was amazed enough that the still-open wound had no stitches, but then, looking more intently, I saw a small growth emerging where the finger had been.“You may look closer.”I moved forward and she extended her hand toward me. I examined it closely, scarcely able to believe what I was seeing.“It appears to be...”“Regenerating. Before January is out, my hand will once again have five fingers. The same will be true for my associates. As I said, we wished to demonstrate to you that violence – short of that so extreme even an Archon could not recover from it – need no longer be feared if you become one of us.”Damaris lowered her hand, turning her attention to the trio of mimics.“You three will go out again, this time to one of my other homes in the city. Miriam, as Grace's watchers will have no idea of the extent to which Saklas damaged me, you need not ape my current state in full. The intent is merely to draw away the focus of Grace's agents here in this neighborhood. She is to have no warning, nor any form of reinforcement from this quarter. James, Marion, Umaru, you will be going to the Solon to collect my daughter.”Umaru went to an elaborately-carved cabinet, from which he took two decidedly modern objects. Pistols, one of which he gave to Marion, the other to me.“And what do you propose we do with these?”“You may not need them at all, James. And Umaru, when hunting, dislikes firearms. But my daughter is distinctly dangerous. My expectation is that by the time you arrive she will already be in hand, but one never knows. You three will not be alone at the Solon. I've been sending agents of my own for some time to build up the illusion of being a normal part of their clientele. Regulars by now, purchasing nothing more outre than conventional fucks. The ladies don't kill everyone that utilizes their services, that would make for a short-lived business. When I learned earlier tonight that Grace was there, I sent instructions to a number of London men well known at the Solon. They went to ostensibly do the standard business of enjoying some fornication, but in fact are tasked with killing everyone – except my daughter – in the whorehouse.”My hand tightened involuntarily around the butt of the pistol – a movement that did not go unnoticed by Damaris.“James,” she sighed, “these are people who have murdered for the reward of a pretty face. By contrast, only once, on the second night of the Depuration, do the servants of the Archons kill one another without very great cause. After that, we feast on each other and live. Your response to my actions regarding the Solon lacks perspective.”“So you justify yourself by classing your philosophy as...good God...gentler? Or that it is all right to kill venal people just because you call them that?”“As a conscience you're more irritating than persuasive. Even were the women of the Solon pure innocents, that wouldn't matter. They are sparks floating in a wasteland, to be harvested and re-sown. As beautiful dead as they could ever be alive. But I won't take part in an inevitable argument with you now. We must be quick, or lose the moment.”Miriam, Clive and Elizabeth departed. Umara too moved to the library door, and Marion, after a glance toward me, followed.“James,” came Damaris' whisper. “A moment.”Alone with me, she looked up from her chair, her disturbing grey eyes unreadable as to their emotion.“Ask,” she said.“Wife, mother, father, daughter, lover, wife?”“Ah. James, I know you are a hard-headed man regarding that which is mystic in life. Have you ever considered the existence of reincarnation?”“Hindus are profoundly attached to it. Surprising, considering all that you've gone to such lengths to show me, that it's an interest of yours.”“Yes, superfluous to someone with a body that may well last forever. And we have done many extreme things in a short time to bring you closer to accepting the reality of a life near-eternal. But you have a great difficulty in processing the place – and the future – of those that do die. The spark that I've spoken of, the pneuma, which is the human link to the beginnings...that is also a part of what we use in our work to shape that future. However, we sometimes snuff out lives from necessity or in retribution, and those sparks may replant themselves in ways that are unexpected, but recognizable if you know how to look.”“It strikes me that your esoterics – for all that you've demonstrated some of their basis in reality – are a means to justify whatever cruelty you wish to indulge in.”She smiled, a little ruefully.“You do sound like him,” she looked toward her hideous cabinet of decapitated heads. “James, before Carson Xavier became Grace's husband, he was my husband. Before he was Grace's lover, he was her father. I've told you, life with the potential to stretch across centuries changes our perspectives on the roles of coupling. As to the esoterics you have such a tendency to dismiss, consider this. Umaru was the instrument of Carson's death, but Saklas was present, in fact he officiated over it. And he is a noted devourer of the pneuma of his victims. A short time later, he used for one night a Whitechapel whore – an individual of no consequence, who stirred him to lust based on physical qualities of genetic excellence. He immediately discarded her. She would die within the year. Giving birth to you, dear man. I assure you, he had no interest in prompting a carnal return of my former husband. But sperm is reckless, and quite naturally filled with the residues of the human pneuma.”“There are Bedlamites who consider themselves the return of Julius Caesar, or Jesus Christ, or Henry VIII,” I answered her. “They pass their brilliant returns tied into straightjackets.”“You consider my mind diseased, sweet James?”“Perhaps I'm more surprised that you would embrace so much... romanticism for your delusion.”She laughed...a grating in her ravaged throat that made her cough. “Love, for me, is hardly a swooning boudoir game. And I loved my husband very much.”And what could I say to that? I looked at her in silence.Finally she lowered her eyes. “If you wish to go and rescue the doxies of the Solon, it's certainly too late for that. They are very likely succumbing to their erstwhile clients' attentions as we speak. A fait accompli. But you still have the opportunity, I believe, to bring Grace, alive, to me. I'd like the three of us to talk.”I stalked out, my mind once again roiling. Every conversation with the woman ending up filling me with fury. Her knowledge of my mother – of whom I had known nothing – just added to my anger and frustration, as she had made her disregard for the woman patently obvious. The absurdity of her reincarnation talk would have ordinarily caused me to class her at the level of a follower of nonsense spouted by the likes of Madame Blavatsky, but even that was challenged by the astonishing medical feats of which her Archons were capable. The further revelation of an incestual circle among these people, normally enough to elicit shock, seemed almost normal when compared to all the rest.As I left the library, Marion cocked an eyebrow at me. “May I ask what that was about, doctor?”“No.”“Well. I'm not keen on being summarily dismissed, but I guess we're something short of boon companions. In a way it's almost a comfort to see you being rude, doctor. Saints in general make me uneasy.”Umaru frustrated further talk by taking two overcoats from a hallway stand and holding them out to Marion and me, before shouldering into his own. I surprised myself by the level of anger I felt toward him as well; Damaris and Xaus having been the architects of Carson Xavier's death seemed to fade into the background of my emotions as I stood here before the living instrument of that death. A result of psychological manipulation...hardly the lust of a reincarnated spirit to take revenge on his killer. And yet, it took an effort to push down a surging desire to take out the gun I'd just been given and fill him with bullets.And why would Damaris see fit to arm us, while pointedly alluding to Umaru lacking any such weapon? A test of rebeliousness, backed by absolute confidence in the big man's ability to – do what? Disarm us with ease should we misbehave? Shrug off bullets?I accepted the coat, thinking briefly of my own burned coat and what was likely the smoking ruin of my office and flat. I put the pistol into my belt and closed the coat over it.Marion, instead of putting on her own garment, handed it back and turned around, spreading her arms slightly to encourage Umaru to drape the coat on her, which he did. She turned around again, tilting her head back to look up at his face.“I've yet to hear you utter a word,” she said. “Is that just your manner, or do you lack the equipment in some way? Given all the exciting demonstrations of Archon healing, I expect if Mistress Ruha had your tongue cut out, it would simply grow back.”When Umaru answered, in heavily accented but perfect English, Marion was so startled she jumped.“You would do well,” the big man said, “to learn the meaning of dignity.”“Lord, he's really smart,” her laugh sounded somewhat forced. “And ruder than you are, doctor.”Umaru simply adjusted his gaze until he was looking over the top of Marion's head. His eyes rested on me, with, I thought, a particular intensity. Had he heard some part of what Damaris had said, and did that also carry for him the echoing remembrance of deeds done a half-century before? I knew nothing of the man, beyond the statement by his mistress that he was Congolese, a warrior, and at the command of my father and herself, had killed Carson Xavier. Now he was being sent to capture Xavier's wife...daughter...bizarrely both.He led us back down into the basement, once again taking to the walking-tunnels. This time we did not travel far, no more than leaving the neighborhood of Damaris' house, before we ascended again. A door cleverly melded into a brick pattern opened from pressure applied by Umaru, and we came out into an alley. Soft snow continued to swirl through the darkness.A carriage waited for us there. With a curt wave of his hand Umaru dismissed its driver, climbing himself up to the bench. While the driver departed into the bricked entrance of the tunnels, Marion and I entered the coach. No sooner were we seated than the carriage jolted forward.Marion was examining the pistol she'd been given. Abruptly, she handed it to me.“Will you see if this thing is properly loaded? I rightly confess to having no lack of guns around me in life, but never schooling myself in shooting them.”So she was suspicious about having been given weapons too. I opened the chamber, satisfying myself that it was indeed loaded. I tipped the open chamber toward her, displaying the bullets. “It has no safety,” I said. “Be cautious not to carry it with your finger inside the trigger guard.”“Or I'll shoot myself in the foot?” She laughed, taking the pistol back and putting it in the pocket of her coat.For a moment, she too looked at me very intently.“May I ask how you intend to conduct yourself on this little foray? I presume with no intent to kill anybody, despite the prophecy Mistress Ruha gave that you're to become a great slaughterer of women.”“I don't know,” I answered truthfully.“Well. Look doctor, aside from all the blood and fucking, you and I aren't exactly what I would call intimates. But I've got no one better to talk to. I'll tell you I'm not completely pleased with the way things are shaping up. Your little private tete-a-tete and other rather obvious signals makes the promise by our mistress of no favoritism somewhat shaky to my way of thinking. The lady Ruha is clearly fixated on you. Her interest in me seems to have more to do with money. What she told you about my history is perfectly true. I have cash aplenty from my daddy and granddaddy's enterprises. I've not the slightest doubt that Mistress Ruha would be pleased to suck up a great deal of that for her own endeavors, and I've no objection, if I'm paid off in years of youth. But the claws she wants to sink into you carry a little more weight than cold cash, if I'm any judge of the ways of the world.”“I won't fight you in their monstrous arena, Miss Bama.”“So you say. So where does that leave me? Not much better...the Archons seem a trifle rigid in the way they like things done. Do I get what I want for dispatching a sacrificial lamb?”I had no answer for her. Perturbed as she seemed, she didn't press the matter. The carriage tilted slightly upward, and she opened the side window. Snowflakes drifted in, but I could see the dark, slow-flowing expanse of the Thames. We were crossing one of the river-spanning bridges into Southwark.The district was of course noted for its clandestine and edge-of-society activities – it had the repute of being rife with criminal cliques, which thrived beyond the law maintained north of the Thames. I'd thought the mystique exaggerated – visits of my own to the famous theatres in the area had been picturesque but in no way dangerous – but apparently, if anything the criminality of the Clink had been understated.Marion continued to look out the window, and I also watched, looking past her outlined profile.And how did I intend to comport myself once we reached our destination? I felt myself past my initial urges to call down the authorities on this strange and violent underworld. Marion's Louisiana logic of a man fallen afoul of the Ku Klux Klan was perhaps more apt than I'd originally considered. Given the elaborate infrastructure behind Archon activities, Damaris almost certainly had any number of officials in her pocket. To have ordered multiple murders in a bordello and not expect the newspapers to be crazed with it the next day implied that she had the power to clean it all up afterward and cause all evidence of the act to disappear. Even if I could somehow divine what authorities were not possessions of the Archons, those individuals would doubtless consider me a lunatic.Yet I was riding in the company of two murderers, to a scene that promised mass death, to apprehend a woman who had mutilated me.The carriage came to a stop. We had been traveling through streets without public gaslight since coming into the Liberty of Clink. In somewhat eerie fashion, that actually caused more light to seem present – ambient light reflecting from the city proper into the low clouds of the storm. There was little of the deep light-and-shadow to be found on the gaslit streets of London; a general soft glow permeated everything.The carriage lurched as Umaru climbed down from the bench. Opening the door I alighted, with Marion right behind me.The building before us, presumably housing the Solon, lacked any sign or mark to show its identity. Its windows were curtained, though behind some the uneven light of candles shone. A short flight of steps led up to a stoop before the closed door. The snow had become heavier. It settled on my hair and the shoulders of my coat as we went up.Umaru turned the knob. It was not locked; at his touch, the door opened easily.The foyer, scented with perfume and incense, gave into a reception room furnished with a number of upholstered couches and chairs. A heavy candelabra suspended from the ceiling, but most of the wax tapers in it had burned down, leaving dull, smoking candle-stumps in their sockets. The few that still burned shot a fitful yellow light around the room.The reason for that neglect was clear. At most such establishments the madam greeted clients from a centrally-situated chair or desk; sprawled across the Solon's reception desk was a beautiful woman whose jet-black hair, somewhat prominent nose and dark skin marked her as being of Indian descent. She'd been garroted. The cord used to strangle her cut so deeply into her neck her head had been all but severed.Since the killers sent by Damaris had posed as regular bordello clients, I could only guess that after being conducted one after the other to rooms with the prostitutes, one of the men had finished there, and returned to eliminate the madam. So there could be little hope that any still remained alive.Umaru went to look at her, lingering to examine the ghastly near-decapitation.“Semi-immortal or not, I don't think she's getting up from that,” Marion said.Suddenly a sharp sound rang out from above – a single report, followed by male voices shouting. Umaru raced to the stairs – which presumably led to assignation rooms on the second floor – with unhesitating speed. I took out my pistol and followed, Marion at my heels.The second floor presented a long hallway stretching to right and left, with doors at regular intervals. Candle-sconces along each length of hall had also burned low. Umaru had moved to the left, where five men had gathered at the foot of another stairway, recessed into the wall, which led up to the third story.As Marion and I passed one of the rooms, I looked through its open door to see another dead woman, naked and spread-eagled face down on the room's bed. She too had been strangled; the thin ligature-end trailed from under her hair down her back. Attempting to help her was pointless – the unnatural cant of her head showed that she too had been all but decapitated.My heartbeat pounded in my temples. The sight should have filled me with horror. Or at least driven me to the mind-place I had learned to adopt in battle, where I could detach myself from acts of carnage. But instead, with the force of a wave, I felt as I had in the hallucinatory incident with Grace and also with Damaris and Marion while hypnotized. Hunger, sexual hunger, gripped me. The curve of the dead woman's back and buttocks, the repose of her legs and feet...her arms with limp fingers...all seemed to possess an overpowering eroticism.My thoughts ran like a runaway train, thinking that I could...I had to enter the room, close the door, take her...no one would judge me, these people probably felt exactly the same.What had they done to me? I was under the influence of no drugs. Damaris was not present to work her diabolic mesmerism on me. With an immense effort of will, I stepped past the open door.Several of the men in the hall – some of whom were naked, some partly so – were speaking at once to Umaru, their words falling over one another.“Had the mad-eyed bitch...sleeping like a baby...she's pure hell...she knifed Thomas here and got loose...offices upstairs, she must have had a pistol there...took a pot shot when we tried to go up.”Umaru was looking up the staircase, as if contemplating a rush to the top floor. Long-time servant of the Archons that he was, perhaps he really did believe bullets from Grace would only be a minor hindrance.Before he could decisively move, I shoved past the knot of men. Several steps up I turned and leveled my own pistol at them.“Doctor, what are you doing?” That was Marion; at the sound of a woman speaking the cluster of men turned to look at her, wondering perhaps, if one of the cathouse-women had evaded them.I used the moment of distraction to fire two shots – one into the shoulder of a naked man, the second creasing another's torso. I was not shooting to kill, but to control these maniacs. The man who had taken the shot in his shoulder clutched at it, gasping, “What the bloody Christ...”Whether or not I could have controlled the situation became moot only a second later, as I felt a hard impact in my back and a burning burst of pain. In short order four more shots from above followed. Marion and the men scattered into the hall on each side of the stair-foot. I could not see if any of them had been struck by the bullets.I turned, looking back and up, and saw Grace on the landing at the stair-head. She had a pistol in one hand, a bloody knife in the other. Backlit by a candle-sconce on the landing, I saw she was barefoot, dressed only in a black shift-dress. Her hair was down, her dark glasses absent. As one of the killers had said, they must have caught her in her sleep.“Fucking murderer!” she shouted, continuing to pull the trigger of her pistol several times before fully realizing she had expended its bullets. She hurled the empty gun down the stairs – it went by my head, to abruptly strike Umaru in the chest right below me. I had not realized the warrior had returned from the shelter of the hallway to come charging up the stairs.He paid no attention at all to the pistol bouncing off the front of his coat. He shoved me against the staircase wall, slapping the gun from my hand. It also clattered downward to the foot of the stairs. He bounded past me.I rose, flinching at the pain the movement caused in my back. Difficult to gauge the severity of the wound, but I was able to get my feet under me.Marion was there then, helping to steady me. I looked back down the stairs. “The killers...”“Piss-ants, more like,” she replied. “Brave enough to strangle fuckery-girls from behind. Maybe they'll realize that there are five of them and succeed in screwing up their courage.” She looked up. “The boy went off, though. Do you think he got her?”Both Grace and Umaru were gone from the landing.My legs held, and I went up, Marion staying close to me. In the dimness and amid the mayhem she didn't seem to realize I had taken a bullet. The pain had settled as a throbbing ache in my lower back, but I could move well enough.At the top of the stairs a shorter hallway than the one below led from the landing. A few steps down the hall an open door gaped. I looked in – though no candle burned there, it seemed to be an office. I could make out a map of London pinned to the wall, and beside it was surprised to see a map of Africa. Hard to tell in the dark, but it did not seem nearly as complex as the one Damaris possessed. But clearly the women shared a similar interest in the skull-shaped continent.“Doctor!” Marion called.She had continued along the hall, coming to a door that stood slightly ajar. Inside was a narrow utility staircase, uncarpeted, leading further up. Wet footprints glittered slightly on the worn treads: Umaru's footprints.We went up, emerging a few moments later on the roof of the building. More footprints showed clearly in the snow, leading to the edge.The ebb and flow of the storm had shifted to ebb; the heavy grey sky once again had an opalescence which extended our field of vision. A narrow gap opened at the back of the building, plunging down into an alley. The next building roof, flat also, could be reached by a short jump. I could see the trail of footprints continue on the far side.“I guess she didn't want to fight him with just a knife,” Marion opined. “Barefoot and in her nightie, even. Do we go?”I replied by slightly anchoring my footing and launching myself across the gap. My jarring arrival on the other side sent pain shooting across my back. In a moment Marion was beside me, her boots skidding slightly on the back roof's snow coating.“Reminds me of ragamuffining around the Quarter playing kick the can,” she breathed. “Of course I didn't have to deal with all this damn snow.”The tracks led around several chimney-crests to the side of the building, once again terminating at the edge. Looking over, I saw the sloped roof of a long shed below. The snow there had been disturbed in a slide, which could only have been precipitated by Grace and Umaru dropping down and glissading lower along the slanted surface. Marion and I did the same, gaining speed on the long slippery expanse to the point where we dropped over the lip at its edge without great control. We came down among piles of snow-covered refuse in another alley.Marion landed on her side and got up cursing. As I scrambled to my feet I saw that I was leaving blood drops in my wake. Bleeding in the snow again...Marion did not notice the blood. The tracks led further into the alley, where we had to surmount a wooden fence. Beyond that a more open street leading to a small square, from which more avenues branched like spikes.“Clear as a bell,” Marion said, pointing to the ongoing tracks. “So I'll praise the snow now, and the fact that no one's out and about at this hour to muddle us up.”I looked back – no sign yet of the five men from the Solon having also taken up the chase. But I had no doubt they would follow.The trail dodged along crooked streets, in and out of alleys. At no point did the two sets of prints separate. Had there been more snow or wind Grace might have had some hope of throwing off pursuit, but conditions were exactly wrong for her.Finally we came to a dead end, the way barred by a tall metal barrier of rusted wrought iron. Worked into the pattern of the iron was a row of crosses. Beyond, across a bleak expanse of flat ground, I saw tombstones and monuments.“Mistress Ruha mentioned a Cross Bones Cemetery,” Marion unhesitatingly raised a boot to an iron crossbar. “Looks to be the back side of it.”She climbed up and over. Now I was following her, and slowing down. I got over the iron fence only with difficulty, and on the other side sank to my knees briefly, struggling with dizziness.Marion had crossed the open ground edging the cemetery and passed along a row of headstones. Suddenly she shouted and dashed forward. “There they are!”I saw them too. Umaru had caught up to Grace in front of a mausoleum decorated with a crouching angel, its wings folded and coated with snow. She was struggling fiercely with her old antagonist, slashing at him with the blade she still carried.Umaru tried to control her, succeeding in taking hold of one of her arms, but Grace's knife-hand remained free. She jabbed at him, sinking the blade into his middle-body. This did not slow him at all. Grace pulled the knife free and swiped it at his throat, but he intercepted the blade in mid-arc, so she had both of her arms pinned.Marion, running, was getting close to them. I tried to run as well, stumbled, and struggled painfully back to my feet.Umaru half-spun with Grace in his grasp and flung her with terrible force against the side of the mausoleum. She sank down in the snow, the knife falling from her hand.The big man reached down, grabbed her hair, and vertically lifted her off her feet. He put his other hand around her throat.Marion, breathing hard, came to a stop right behind him. I was close enough to hear her speak.“Going to kill her? I bet you've waited a long time to get your hands on this one.”He glanced over his shoulder and down at Marion. “No. She belongs to Ruha.”“I really can't get over you talking so much.” As Umaru turned back to Grace, Marion pulled the pistol from her pocket, raised it to the base of his skull and fired. Blood sprayed outward, but Marion was not content with a single shot – she fired three more into his head a point blank range.He dropped Grace, who fell, blood-spattered, to the snow at his feet. Umaru toppled, collapsing right on top of her. With a gasping cry, she shoved him off.Marion, her legs braced slightly apart, shifted the aim of her pistol toward Grace. “I believe I could get to like guns. If I was counting right, I still have two bullets left.”Grace stared at her, the roving pupils of her eyes giving what was unquestionably the false impression of being dazed. I finally arrived at Marion's side.Grace, her black shift-dress crusted with snow, her bare feet bluish from the cold, found the knife where it had fallen and picked it up. She then spoke in a low, steady voice. “His head needs to come off.”I looked at the red ruin above Umaru's shoulders.Marion actually smiled. “Think he's going to pop up like a zombie? I tell you, you Archons remind me no end of my voodoo playfellows.”“I'm not an Archon.”“Right. You're the avenging whelp. But let's not get off on the wrong foot, Miss Grace. I can see why you'd enjoy removing his head, given the introduction I had to your dead husband. Go right ahead, if it pleases you.”Grace did not hesitate. Though she had only succeeded in inflicting superficial wounds on Umaru before Marion had interceded with her gun, the knife she held was clearly razor-sharp. She leaned forward, placed it hard against the man's neck, and it sank deep. When she encountered the resistance of Umaru's spine, she adjusted her position, braced her feet against his shoulders, took hold of his hair with his free hand, and pulled as she sawed downward.The grisly spectacle took about a minute. When the head finally came free, she held it up before her, staring into the glassy eyes with her chaotic ones. Then, while Marion and I stood watching, she kissed the dead lips, and placed the severed head down almost gently in the snow.I remembered Damaris' cryptic comments about the living absorbing sparks of primal identity from the dead, and I wondered if that kiss was less to a defeated adversary than to the shadow of a lost husband.“I'm figuring it's not long before the fellows who did for the Solon will be coming along the same trail we did,” Marion, practical as always, had no use for pondering Archon metaphysics. “We'd better settle our business quick.”Grace stood, and despite her appearance and the acts we had just witnessed, the dignity of her bearing could not be denied.I shouldered out of my coat and handed it to her. She accepted it, her face puzzled. “You two are Ruha's candidates for the Depuration.”“That was the original thought,” Marion replied.Her eyes widened somewhat then, seeing the broad bloodstain on the back of my coat. Grace followed her gaze and saw it too. Marion took a step closer to me and looked at my back.“Doctor, you're bleeding somewhat fearful.”“From my bullet?” Grace asked.I nodded.“I was shooting at Umaru. My vision makes me useless with a gun. I'm sorry, doctor. You were holding them at bay on my behalf. And you,” she looked at Marion, then the corpse of Umaru, “did this to him.”“Miss Grace, I don't know you from Eve, but I've got the strong impression that your mama has every intention of using me for a while, at the conclusion of which I'm more likely to be a dead mess like this boy than a happy semi-goddess with eternal life. I've also come to the conclusion that Dr. Wilder here wants nothing to with whatever shit she ultimately intends to pull.”“You've judged my mother well enough.”“Accepting that we're no saints – with the exception perhaps of Dr. Jim – I'm thinking at this point that being your ally might be more conducive to my goals than being Mistress Ruha's disposable fuck-and-kill puppet. I get the impression, despite what happened at the cathouse, that you still have a gang at your disposal?”“You could call it that.”“Then what if I told you exactly where their precious ritual is going to be happening? Think you and your cohorts might be inclined to drop in?”“I already know where it's going to take place.”“So you think. You've been flanked, Miss Grace. Your watchers followed doubles to a false destination. They're following them around again, right now. She used the ploy to spot you at your bordello-roost, and here we are. She's got a literal underworld that she calls Siniavis...that ring a bell for you? At this very moment she's recovering from two broken legs and a slit throat acquired in our little recent visit there. Her associates are a bit the worse for wear too. I'd call them ripe for the taking.”“You're crossing her? That's a very dangerous thing to do.”“I don't doubt it in the least. But like I said, I think our Mistress intends to chew me up and spit me out. I'm banking on the chance that you do right by people who join up with you. So I made you this.”Marion opened the front of her coat and reached inside the bodice of her dress. She withdrew a folded piece of paper, which she handed to Grace.“Drew it up while it was all fresh in my mind. There's a door to Siniavis in the basement of Mistress Ruha's house. She comes and goes under your nose. Now you're going to need to righteously assault her house to get there, but I'm guessing you have the will for that. Resistance won't be quite so stout with her boy here, dead...I haven't seen more than a few other servants around the place. Some have attitude...but then so do you. Come when the lady herself is attending her soiree with us in tow, and you should make short enough work of them.”Grace closed the paper in her fist. “And this wouldn't be an effort to draw me into a trap, would it?”“Missy, you were trapped right well five minutes ago, if I hadn't broken it up.”Listening, I was amazed at Marion's audacity. Her intent to pull the teeth right from the mouth of the Archon cult was absolutely self-interested, but had far more likelihood of success than my own earlier desire to place them all before conventional authorities. My own experience with Grace showed her to be ruthless and driven, but I felt too somehow that she would keep her word if given.“I figure I'll be naked and either fucking or killing someone when you show up,” Marion went on. “Just describe me well to your boys, so they don't slip up while they're chastising Archons. Now we have an immediate problem...a little clutch of piss-ant bully boys are likely to come climbing the Cross Bones fence in a minute or two. Were you just running scared when you ducked in here, or did you have some plan that will cross up their ability to follow your footprints just the way we did?”“The cemetery and the bordello had an arrangement,” Grace answered. “Periodically they would...visit the Solon with a horse-cart, to take away Archon servants when my women were finished with them. The horse is stabled very close – the warder will look the other way when I take it.”“Nice,” Marion nodded. “Go to, then. We'll be expecting you.” She spared a glance at Grace's bare feet. “You aren't going to fall down halfway there with frostbite, are you?”“I'm not an Archon, but just as resilient as one.”Grace took a last look at the bloody heap that had been Umaru, her pupils momentarily re-centering, giving her perhaps the most wistful expression I had seen on her face. Then she blinked, and her troubled eyes once again went askew. But her posture was all strength and determination as she put on my coat and disappeared behind the mausoleum with the crouching angel.Marion and I stood silent for a moment. The snowfall, beginning to increase again, sifted about us with soft whispers.Finally Marion gestured toward the corpse. “This,” she said, “might be a little thorny to explain.”“Give me your gun, then run back along our trail until you encounter Damaris' bravos. After I shot at them in the brothel, they won't have any trouble believing I'm the one who did this to him.”“You never disappoint, doctor.” Marion handed me the pistol.I swayed on my feet somewhat and she looked again at my bloody back, but made no comment. She left me, walking and then jogging back along the path of our footprints, until the curtain of falling snow swallowed her.I took a deep breath and watched the lacy caress of snowflakes settling on Umaru's body, some melting in the pools of his blood, before beginning to coat and obscure the vivid patterns of red.I felt no sense of righteous vengeance having come up out of the past.Then the snow was whirling, and I realized I had fallen onto my back only when I found myself looking up, blinking at white tatters that sought my eyes, before I closed them.

[northshoregadgets]

Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding

I’m eagerly anticipating the birth of a German Shepherd Dog litter in California. My own GSD, Zoey, passed away last March, and I’ve been patiently (well, maybe not all that patiently!) awaiting a new puppy. The sire to my puppy, Dante, belongs to Deborah Stern, a longtime Shepherd source and mentor. Stern co-owns last year’s Westminster’s Best in Show, Rumor, who recently had a litter of her own, and is now proving she can rock the Mom scene as well as the Show ring!

My puppy’s dam, Rhea, also excels in the Mama arena. Dante and Rhea’s previous litter nicely demonstrates the breed standard for physical and temperamental traits, as well as working abilities. All dogs are individuals, but with such a sound breeding line, I can reasonably expect working aptitudes, health, beauty and a sound temperament in my pup. It’s then my job to bring out her potential!

Dog breeding is a complicated process and also a complicated issue. When picking a purebred dog, do careful research and always purchase a pup from a breeder who will take your dog back if the match does not work out. Beware of buying from irresponsible backyard breeders who overbreed and don’t follow professional breeding guidelines — these breeders are contributing to issues like overpopulation of shelters and, ultimately, the euthanasia of healthy dogs.

So, what exactly happens during the professional, responsible dog breeding process? Let’s look at the basics:

How do responsible breeders mate dogs? Linebreeding, inbreeding and more: 

Rumor and her pups. Photography courtesy Deborah Stern and Kent Boyles.

True dog breeding takes knowledge, commitment and — in some part — the willingness to take a leap of faith. The goal is to improve a line over the course of generations. Breeders must have a working knowledge of genetics since dog breeding is essentially genetic restriction to a unifying standard. Professional breeders practice:

Inbreeding, the mating of rather close relatives

Linebreeding, when there’s at least one dog in the generational pedigree of both sides, but further removed (such as a grandfather on one side and a great grandfather on the other)

Outcrossing, the mating of non-related lines

Sound complicated? It is. Reputable breeders also invest time in conformation and other sports such as agility, herding, obedience and rally. Titles around a dog’s name evidence his adherence to a breed standard, both physically and mentally. “A German Shepherd Dog, for example, must have a body that moves well in herding,” Stern explains. “When the Westminster Best in Show judge was judging Rumor, he was looking at her nobility and quality, and assessing whether her body moved to conform to her breed’s working purposes.”

Reputable breeders are usually active in breed clubs, dedicated to health studies and research and committed to shaping their dogs into breed ambassadors. Responsible, professional breeders will also take their dogs back so that these pups don’t end up as part of the shelter system.

Puppies from responsible breeders come with real certifications and records.

A French Bulldog pup. Photography courtesy Gordon Deen.

Good breeders socialize their puppies, help them transition to new homes and are available to answer questions throughout the lives of their dogs. Conscientious breeders also provide health-screening records for the sire and dam. For example, my puppy’s sire and dam have hips and elbows certified by the OFA (Orthopedic Foundation for Animals). Such records mean my pup’s chances of developing dysplasia are rather slim.

For all these reasons, when it comes to dog breeding, the well-known disclaimer “Do not try this at home!” applies in spades. Then again, maybe we should rephrase the expression to “leave breeding to the professionals,” for many breeders (often the most wonderful ones!) do raise the litters in their homes.

How old does a dog have to be to breed?

A Labrador Retriever pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

Although some dogs (mainly the smaller breeds) reach sexual maturity as early as 6 months, their full physical maturity takes some time. In general, females should wait until they’ve gone through a few heat cycles before breeding. “Most females are deemed ready around the age of 2, but not before,” Stern says. “Prior to age 2, in many breeds, the bones, ligaments and joints aren’t finished growing.” Furthermore, many health screenings aren’t completed until age 2. The OFA, for example, won’t give their stamp of approval for hip and elbow certification until the dog is 2. “Dogs shouldn’t be bred prior to obtaining their health clearances,” Stern says. “Ideally, a dog is given a few years before breeding to prove themselves, in terms of health, temperament and working ability.”

On the other side of the age equation, females over age 6 generally aren’t bred. In their breeding years, most females can safely have 2 or 3 litters. Males, however, can sire in their more senior years.

When should you spay or neuter?

An Icelandic Sheepdog pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

So, if we aren’t qualified to breed, should we leave our dogs intact? Now we hit upon controversy. Interestingly, although these surgeries are routine in the US, spaying and neutering in much of Europe and Norway, for example, isn’t routinely performed. However, many of these countries do not have shelter overpopulation issues like the US.

There are medical pros and cons to spaying/neutering. But, unless you are a professional breeder, there are few reasons not to spay or neuter your dog.

Yes, spay and neuter can be costly, but there are options for low-cost or even free spay and neuter clinics or events across the country. With the scores of homeless dogs in shelters, spaying or neutering a dog — even a purebred dog — is the most responsible choice if you’re not a professional breeder.

Read more about dog breeds on Dogster.com:

The Best Dogs for Cats? Try These 5 Breeds

Dogs That Don’t Bark: 5 Relatively Quiet Dog Breeds

The 5 Smartest Dog Breeds Brag About How Intelligent They Are

The post Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding appeared first on Dogster.

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[stiles-wtf]

Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding

I’m eagerly anticipating the birth of a German Shepherd Dog litter in California. My own GSD, Zoey, passed away last March, and I’ve been patiently (well, maybe not all that patiently!) awaiting a new puppy. The sire to my puppy, Dante, belongs to Deborah Stern, a longtime Shepherd source and mentor. Stern co-owns last year’s Westminster’s Best in Show, Rumor, who recently had a litter of her own, and is now proving she can rock the Mom scene as well as the Show ring!

My puppy’s dam, Rhea, also excels in the Mama arena. Dante and Rhea’s previous litter nicely demonstrates the breed standard for physical and temperamental traits, as well as working abilities. All dogs are individuals, but with such a sound breeding line, I can reasonably expect working aptitudes, health, beauty and a sound temperament in my pup. It’s then my job to bring out her potential!

Dog breeding is a complicated process and also a complicated issue. When picking a purebred dog, do careful research and always purchase a pup from a breeder who will take your dog back if the match does not work out. Beware of buying from irresponsible backyard breeders who overbreed and don’t follow professional breeding guidelines — these breeders are contributing to issues like overpopulation of shelters and, ultimately, the euthanasia of healthy dogs.

So, what exactly happens during the professional, responsible dog breeding process? Let’s look at the basics:

How do responsible breeders mate dogs? Linebreeding, inbreeding and more:

Rumor and her pups. Photography courtesy Deborah Stern and Kent Boyles.

True dog breeding takes knowledge, commitment and — in some part — the willingness to take a leap of faith. The goal is to improve a line over the course of generations. Breeders must have a working knowledge of genetics since dog breeding is essentially genetic restriction to a unifying standard. Professional breeders practice:

Inbreeding, the mating of rather close relatives

Linebreeding, when there’s at least one dog in the generational pedigree of both sides, but further removed (such as a grandfather on one side and a great grandfather on the other)

Outcrossing, the mating of non-related lines

Sound complicated? It is. Reputable breeders also invest time in conformation and other sports such as agility, herding, obedience and rally. Titles around a dog’s name evidence his adherence to a breed standard, both physically and mentally. “A German Shepherd Dog, for example, must have a body that moves well in herding,” Stern explains. “When the Westminster Best in Show judge was judging Rumor, he was looking at her nobility and quality, and assessing whether her body moved to conform to her breed’s working purposes.”

Reputable breeders are usually active in breed clubs, dedicated to health studies and research and committed to shaping their dogs into breed ambassadors. Responsible, professional breeders will also take their dogs back so that these pups don’t end up as part of the shelter system.

Puppies from responsible breeders come with real certifications and records.

A French Bulldog pup. Photography courtesy Gordon Deen.

Good breeders socialize their puppies, help them transition to new homes and are available to answer questions throughout the lives of their dogs. Conscientious breeders also provide health-screening records for the sire and dam. For example, my puppy’s sire and dam have hips and elbows certified by the OFA (Orthopedic Foundation for Animals). Such records mean my pup’s chances of developing dysplasia are rather slim.

For all these reasons, when it comes to dog breeding, the well-known disclaimer “Do not try this at home!” applies in spades. Then again, maybe we should rephrase the expression to “leave breeding to the professionals,” for many breeders (often the most wonderful ones!) do raise the litters in their homes.

How old does a dog have to be to breed?

A Labrador Retriever pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

Although some dogs (mainly the smaller breeds) reach sexual maturity as early as 6 months, their full physical maturity takes some time. In general, females should wait until they’ve gone through a few heat cycles before breeding. “Most females are deemed ready around the age of 2, but not before,” Stern says. “Prior to age 2, in many breeds, the bones, ligaments and joints aren’t finished growing.” Furthermore, many health screenings aren’t completed until age 2. The OFA, for example, won’t give their stamp of approval for hip and elbow certification until the dog is 2. “Dogs shouldn’t be bred prior to obtaining their health clearances,” Stern says. “Ideally, a dog is given a few years before breeding to prove themselves, in terms of health, temperament and working ability.”

On the other side of the age equation, females over age 6 generally aren’t bred. In their breeding years, most females can safely have 2 or 3 litters. Males, however, can sire in their more senior years.

When should you spay or neuter?

An Icelandic Sheepdog pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

So, if we aren’t qualified to breed, should we leave our dogs intact? Now we hit upon controversy. Interestingly, although these surgeries are routine in the US, spaying and neutering in much of Europe and Norway, for example, isn’t routinely performed. However, many of these countries do not have shelter overpopulation issues like the US.

There are medical pros and cons to spaying/neutering. But, unless you are a professional breeder, there are few reasons not to spay or neuter your dog.

Yes, spay and neuter can be costly, but there are options for low-cost or even free spay and neuter clinics or events across the country. With the scores of homeless dogs in shelters, spaying or neutering a dog — even a purebred dog — is the most responsible choice if you’re not a professional breeder.

Read more about dog breeds on Dogster.com:

The Best Dogs for Cats? Try These 5 Breeds

Dogs That Don’t Bark: 5 Relatively Quiet Dog Breeds

The 5 Smartest Dog Breeds Brag About How Intelligent They Are

The post Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding appeared first on Dogster.

[buynewsoul]

Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding

I’m eagerly anticipating the birth of a German Shepherd Dog litter in California. My own GSD, Zoey, passed away last March, and I’ve been patiently (well, maybe not all that patiently!) awaiting a new puppy. The sire to my puppy, Dante, belongs to Deborah Stern, a longtime Shepherd source and mentor. Stern co-owns last year’s Westminster’s Best in Show, Rumor, who recently had a litter of her own, and is now proving she can rock the Mom scene as well as the Show ring!

My puppy’s dam, Rhea, also excels in the Mama arena. Dante and Rhea’s previous litter nicely demonstrates the breed standard for physical and temperamental traits, as well as working abilities. All dogs are individuals, but with such a sound breeding line, I can reasonably expect working aptitudes, health, beauty and a sound temperament in my pup. It’s then my job to bring out her potential!

Dog breeding is a complicated process and also a complicated issue. When picking a purebred dog, do careful research and always purchase a pup from a breeder who will take your dog back if the match does not work out. Beware of buying from irresponsible backyard breeders who overbreed and don’t follow professional breeding guidelines — these breeders are contributing to issues like overpopulation of shelters and, ultimately, the euthanasia of healthy dogs.

So, what exactly happens during the professional, responsible dog breeding process? Let’s look at the basics:

How do responsible breeders mate dogs? Linebreeding, inbreeding and more:

Rumor and her pups. Photography courtesy Deborah Stern and Kent Boyles.

True dog breeding takes knowledge, commitment and — in some part — the willingness to take a leap of faith. The goal is to improve a line over the course of generations. Breeders must have a working knowledge of genetics since dog breeding is essentially genetic restriction to a unifying standard. Professional breeders practice:

Inbreeding, the mating of rather close relatives

Linebreeding, when there’s at least one dog in the generational pedigree of both sides, but further removed (such as a grandfather on one side and a great grandfather on the other)

Outcrossing, the mating of non-related lines

Sound complicated? It is. Reputable breeders also invest time in conformation and other sports such as agility, herding, obedience and rally. Titles around a dog’s name evidence his adherence to a breed standard, both physically and mentally. “A German Shepherd Dog, for example, must have a body that moves well in herding,” Stern explains. “When the Westminster Best in Show judge was judging Rumor, he was looking at her nobility and quality, and assessing whether her body moved to conform to her breed’s working purposes.”

Reputable breeders are usually active in breed clubs, dedicated to health studies and research and committed to shaping their dogs into breed ambassadors. Responsible, professional breeders will also take their dogs back so that these pups don’t end up as part of the shelter system.

Puppies from responsible breeders come with real certifications and records.

A French Bulldog pup. Photography courtesy Gordon Deen.

Good breeders socialize their puppies, help them transition to new homes and are available to answer questions throughout the lives of their dogs. Conscientious breeders also provide health-screening records for the sire and dam. For example, my puppy’s sire and dam have hips and elbows certified by the OFA (Orthopedic Foundation for Animals). Such records mean my pup’s chances of developing dysplasia are rather slim.

For all these reasons, when it comes to dog breeding, the well-known disclaimer “Do not try this at home!” applies in spades. Then again, maybe we should rephrase the expression to “leave breeding to the professionals,” for many breeders (often the most wonderful ones!) do raise the litters in their homes.

How old does a dog have to be to breed?

A Labrador Retriever pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

Although some dogs (mainly the smaller breeds) reach sexual maturity as early as 6 months, their full physical maturity takes some time. In general, females should wait until they’ve gone through a few heat cycles before breeding. “Most females are deemed ready around the age of 2, but not before,” Stern says. “Prior to age 2, in many breeds, the bones, ligaments and joints aren’t finished growing.” Furthermore, many health screenings aren’t completed until age 2. The OFA, for example, won’t give their stamp of approval for hip and elbow certification until the dog is 2. “Dogs shouldn’t be bred prior to obtaining their health clearances,” Stern says. “Ideally, a dog is given a few years before breeding to prove themselves, in terms of health, temperament and working ability.”

On the other side of the age equation, females over age 6 generally aren’t bred. In their breeding years, most females can safely have 2 or 3 litters. Males, however, can sire in their more senior years.

When should you spay or neuter?

An Icelandic Sheepdog pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

So, if we aren’t qualified to breed, should we leave our dogs intact? Now we hit upon controversy. Interestingly, although these surgeries are routine in the US, spaying and neutering in much of Europe and Norway, for example, isn’t routinely performed. However, many of these countries do not have shelter overpopulation issues like the US.

There are medical pros and cons to spaying/neutering. But, unless you are a professional breeder, there are few reasons not to spay or neuter your dog.

Yes, spay and neuter can be costly, but there are options for low-cost or even free spay and neuter clinics or events across the country. With the scores of homeless dogs in shelters, spaying or neutering a dog — even a purebred dog — is the most responsible choice if you’re not a professional breeder.

Read more about dog breeds on Dogster.com:

The Best Dogs for Cats? Try These 5 Breeds

Dogs That Don’t Bark: 5 Relatively Quiet Dog Breeds

The 5 Smartest Dog Breeds Brag About How Intelligent They Are

The post Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding appeared first on Dogster.

[jeffreyrwelch]

Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding

I’m eagerly anticipating the birth of a German Shepherd Dog litter in California. My own GSD, Zoey, passed away last March, and I’ve been patiently (well, maybe not all that patiently!) awaiting a new puppy. The sire to my puppy, Dante, belongs to Deborah Stern, a longtime Shepherd source and mentor. Stern co-owns last year’s Westminster’s Best in Show, Rumor, who recently had a litter of her own, and is now proving she can rock the Mom scene as well as the Show ring!

My puppy’s dam, Rhea, also excels in the Mama arena. Dante and Rhea’s previous litter nicely demonstrates the breed standard for physical and temperamental traits, as well as working abilities. All dogs are individuals, but with such a sound breeding line, I can reasonably expect working aptitudes, health, beauty and a sound temperament in my pup. It’s then my job to bring out her potential!

Dog breeding is a complicated process and also a complicated issue. When picking a purebred dog, do careful research and always purchase a pup from a breeder who will take your dog back if the match does not work out. Beware of buying from irresponsible backyard breeders who overbreed and don’t follow professional breeding guidelines — these breeders are contributing to issues like overpopulation of shelters and, ultimately, the euthanasia of healthy dogs.

So, what exactly happens during the professional, responsible dog breeding process? Let’s look at the basics:

How do responsible breeders mate dogs? Linebreeding, inbreeding and more:

Rumor and her pups. Photography courtesy Deborah Stern and Kent Boyles.

True dog breeding takes knowledge, commitment and — in some part — the willingness to take a leap of faith. The goal is to improve a line over the course of generations. Breeders must have a working knowledge of genetics since dog breeding is essentially genetic restriction to a unifying standard. Professional breeders practice:

Inbreeding, the mating of rather close relatives

Linebreeding, when there’s at least one dog in the generational pedigree of both sides, but further removed (such as a grandfather on one side and a great grandfather on the other)

Outcrossing, the mating of non-related lines

Sound complicated? It is. Reputable breeders also invest time in conformation and other sports such as agility, herding, obedience and rally. Titles around a dog’s name evidence his adherence to a breed standard, both physically and mentally. “A German Shepherd Dog, for example, must have a body that moves well in herding,” Stern explains. “When the Westminster Best in Show judge was judging Rumor, he was looking at her nobility and quality, and assessing whether her body moved to conform to her breed’s working purposes.”

Reputable breeders are usually active in breed clubs, dedicated to health studies and research and committed to shaping their dogs into breed ambassadors. Responsible, professional breeders will also take their dogs back so that these pups don’t end up as part of the shelter system.

Puppies from responsible breeders come with real certifications and records.

A French Bulldog pup. Photography courtesy Gordon Deen.

Good breeders socialize their puppies, help them transition to new homes and are available to answer questions throughout the lives of their dogs. Conscientious breeders also provide health-screening records for the sire and dam. For example, my puppy’s sire and dam have hips and elbows certified by the OFA (Orthopedic Foundation for Animals). Such records mean my pup’s chances of developing dysplasia are rather slim.

For all these reasons, when it comes to dog breeding, the well-known disclaimer “Do not try this at home!” applies in spades. Then again, maybe we should rephrase the expression to “leave breeding to the professionals,” for many breeders (often the most wonderful ones!) do raise the litters in their homes.

How old does a dog have to be to breed?

A Labrador Retriever pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

Although some dogs (mainly the smaller breeds) reach sexual maturity as early as 6 months, their full physical maturity takes some time. In general, females should wait until they’ve gone through a few heat cycles before breeding. “Most females are deemed ready around the age of 2, but not before,” Stern says. “Prior to age 2, in many breeds, the bones, ligaments and joints aren’t finished growing.” Furthermore, many health screenings aren’t completed until age 2. The OFA, for example, won’t give their stamp of approval for hip and elbow certification until the dog is 2. “Dogs shouldn’t be bred prior to obtaining their health clearances,” Stern says. “Ideally, a dog is given a few years before breeding to prove themselves, in terms of health, temperament and working ability.”

On the other side of the age equation, females over age 6 generally aren’t bred. In their breeding years, most females can safely have 2 or 3 litters. Males, however, can sire in their more senior years.

When should you spay or neuter?

An Icelandic Sheepdog pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

So, if we aren’t qualified to breed, should we leave our dogs intact? Now we hit upon controversy. Interestingly, although these surgeries are routine in the US, spaying and neutering in much of Europe and Norway, for example, isn’t routinely performed. However, many of these countries do not have shelter overpopulation issues like the US.

There are medical pros and cons to spaying/neutering. But, unless you are a professional breeder, there are few reasons not to spay or neuter your dog.

Yes, spay and neuter can be costly, but there are options for low-cost or even free spay and neuter clinics or events across the country. With the scores of homeless dogs in shelters, spaying or neutering a dog — even a purebred dog — is the most responsible choice if you’re not a professional breeder.

Read more about dog breeds on Dogster.com:

The Best Dogs for Cats? Try These 5 Breeds

Dogs That Don’t Bark: 5 Relatively Quiet Dog Breeds

The 5 Smartest Dog Breeds Brag About How Intelligent They Are

The post Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding appeared first on Dogster.

[daddyslittlejuliet]

Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding

I’m eagerly anticipating the birth of a German Shepherd Dog litter in California. My own GSD, Zoey, passed away last March, and I’ve been patiently (well, maybe not all that patiently!) awaiting a new puppy. The sire to my puppy, Dante, belongs to Deborah Stern, a longtime Shepherd source and mentor. Stern co-owns last year’s Westminster’s Best in Show, Rumor, who recently had a litter of her own, and is now proving she can rock the Mom scene as well as the Show ring!

My puppy’s dam, Rhea, also excels in the Mama arena. Dante and Rhea’s previous litter nicely demonstrates the breed standard for physical and temperamental traits, as well as working abilities. All dogs are individuals, but with such a sound breeding line, I can reasonably expect working aptitudes, health, beauty and a sound temperament in my pup. It’s then my job to bring out her potential!

Dog breeding is a complicated process and also a complicated issue. When picking a purebred dog, do careful research and always purchase a pup from a breeder who will take your dog back if the match does not work out. Beware of buying from irresponsible backyard breeders who overbreed and don’t follow professional breeding guidelines — these breeders are contributing to issues like overpopulation of shelters and, ultimately, the euthanasia of healthy dogs.

So, what exactly happens during the professional, responsible dog breeding process? Let’s look at the basics:

How do responsible breeders mate dogs? Linebreeding, inbreeding and more:

Rumor and her pups. Photography courtesy Deborah Stern and Kent Boyles.

True dog breeding takes knowledge, commitment and — in some part — the willingness to take a leap of faith. The goal is to improve a line over the course of generations. Breeders must have a working knowledge of genetics since dog breeding is essentially genetic restriction to a unifying standard. Professional breeders practice:

Inbreeding, the mating of rather close relatives

Linebreeding, when there’s at least one dog in the generational pedigree of both sides, but further removed (such as a grandfather on one side and a great grandfather on the other)

Outcrossing, the mating of non-related lines

Sound complicated? It is. Reputable breeders also invest time in conformation and other sports such as agility, herding, obedience and rally. Titles around a dog’s name evidence his adherence to a breed standard, both physically and mentally. “A German Shepherd Dog, for example, must have a body that moves well in herding,” Stern explains. “When the Westminster Best in Show judge was judging Rumor, he was looking at her nobility and quality, and assessing whether her body moved to conform to her breed’s working purposes.”

Reputable breeders are usually active in breed clubs, dedicated to health studies and research and committed to shaping their dogs into breed ambassadors. Responsible, professional breeders will also take their dogs back so that these pups don’t end up as part of the shelter system.

Puppies from responsible breeders come with real certifications and records.

A French Bulldog pup. Photography courtesy Gordon Deen.

Good breeders socialize their puppies, help them transition to new homes and are available to answer questions throughout the lives of their dogs. Conscientious breeders also provide health-screening records for the sire and dam. For example, my puppy’s sire and dam have hips and elbows certified by the OFA (Orthopedic Foundation for Animals). Such records mean my pup’s chances of developing dysplasia are rather slim.

For all these reasons, when it comes to dog breeding, the well-known disclaimer “Do not try this at home!” applies in spades. Then again, maybe we should rephrase the expression to “leave breeding to the professionals,” for many breeders (often the most wonderful ones!) do raise the litters in their homes.

How old does a dog have to be to breed?

A Labrador Retriever pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

Although some dogs (mainly the smaller breeds) reach sexual maturity as early as 6 months, their full physical maturity takes some time. In general, females should wait until they’ve gone through a few heat cycles before breeding. “Most females are deemed ready around the age of 2, but not before,” Stern says. “Prior to age 2, in many breeds, the bones, ligaments and joints aren’t finished growing.” Furthermore, many health screenings aren’t completed until age 2. The OFA, for example, won’t give their stamp of approval for hip and elbow certification until the dog is 2. “Dogs shouldn’t be bred prior to obtaining their health clearances,” Stern says. “Ideally, a dog is given a few years before breeding to prove themselves, in terms of health, temperament and working ability.”

On the other side of the age equation, females over age 6 generally aren’t bred. In their breeding years, most females can safely have 2 or 3 litters. Males, however, can sire in their more senior years.

When should you spay or neuter?

An Icelandic Sheepdog pup. Photography courtesy Anna Wallace, Liberty Run Kennel.

So, if we aren’t qualified to breed, should we leave our dogs intact? Now we hit upon controversy. Interestingly, although these surgeries are routine in the US, spaying and neutering in much of Europe and Norway, for example, isn’t routinely performed. However, many of these countries do not have shelter overpopulation issues like the US.

There are medical pros and cons to spaying/neutering. But, unless you are a professional breeder, there are few reasons not to spay or neuter your dog.

Yes, spay and neuter can be costly, but there are options for low-cost or even free spay and neuter clinics or events across the country. With the scores of homeless dogs in shelters, spaying or neutering a dog — even a purebred dog — is the most responsible choice if you’re not a professional breeder.

Read more about dog breeds on Dogster.com:

The Best Dogs for Cats? Try These 5 Breeds

Dogs That Don’t Bark: 5 Relatively Quiet Dog Breeds

The 5 Smartest Dog Breeds Brag About How Intelligent They Are

The post Let’s Talk About Professional and Responsible Dog Breeding appeared first on Dogster.