#which is interesting also looking at marcy who is so much like a typical human kid

[sickgraymeat]

Modern human au bubbline adopt a pet and can’t agree on a name bc all of Bonnie’s are like Fancy Guy the Tuxedo Cat and all of Marcy’s are like Gloopy or smth

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/5/2020: THE RIFT (1990)

In my household, the sea monster movies of 1989 are a frequent topic of conversation. My husband and I often discuss the strange convergence of THE ABYSS, LEVIATHAN, and DEEPSTAR 6 on moviegoing audiences that year, as if they represent some sort of tulpa conceived by the collective unconscious and unleashed upon humanity. I don't know what was in the zeitgeist at the end of the '80s that made everyone so ocean-oriented (environmentalism, maybe?), but leave it to Roger Corman to pick up on it: I didn't even realize until last night that he produced two pictures called LORDS OF THE DEEP and THE EVIL BELOW in 1989, that have to be included in this survey. The reason I even found this out is that my esteemed colleague @moviesludge​ pointed out to me that there is yet a sixth movie in this category, and the Corman additions were wisely listed along with the others on its Wikipedia page. It was a little late to the party, but 1990's THE RIFT is possibly the weirdest and funniest of the bunch. Speaking of partying: Someone sent my other blog a message asking if I thought there were whole categories of people who should, and should not, smoke weed. I didn't have a very exact answer for that person--I think it's more that there are conditions under which you might be encouraged to, or not to smoke weed. Today, I would like to add that according to my analysis, it is my belief that people who are watching THE RIFT are among those who would be well advised to smoke weed.

I really enjoyed THE RIFT, although I'm not confident that I'm up to the task of describing it. In the broadest strokes, it's about an experimental NATO submarine travelling to the deepest depths of the sea to recover the black box from a previous version of this same submarine, which didn't do so well. The mission is immediately endangered by the fact that nobody on the sub seems at all informed about what they're doing, with a ragtag band of spunky scientists clashing with the hard-nosed Navy presence over really basic stuff, like, how the submarine works, and what's wrong with it. Inevitably, they run afoul of bizarre creatures infesting the wreckage of sub #1, at which time Navy Captain R. Lee Ermey hands out a whole bunch of bloated experimental firearms that I guess he realized they were going to need, but decided never to introduce them to the crew before now, telling them essentially, "These things are new and weird and really extremely dangerous to use, so, good luck!" Hijinks ensue.

Anyway, when R. Lee Ermey is the least campy thing in your movie, you've got something special going on. THE RIFT has a kind of alienated, cartoony quality that is difficult to define, but that I experience as generically "foreign". If I didn't know that this was a spanish co-production, I might have guessed it was norwegian. It reminds me a little bit of Dick Maas' similarly broad elevator amok movie THE LIFT, although THE RIFT is not at all calculating. It is directed, co-produced, and co-written by Juan Piquer Simón, of PIECES fame, and this movie is about as under control as that movie. For my money, though, the heart and soul of THE RIFT is production designer Gonzalo Gonzalo (also of SLUGS fame!); the film's Tonka truck miniatures brought me much joy, along with his bubble wrap kelp forests and Freudian cave maze. Whatever innocence that all carries, however, is tainted by the monsters that inhabit these environs. Anybody whose hackles were raised by the new DUNE's "butthole worm" will be seriously overstimulated by THE RIFT’s cavedwelling mutations, whose faces are so specifically vulva-like that you really can't call it referential; as an added bonus, their larva are fetus-like homunculi that look alarmingly like MAC & ME. Once the armed response begins, THE RIFT degenerates from a budget ALIENS/LEVIATHAN/THE ABYSS/etc ripoff, into a full-blown splatter movie that inspired me to put on Luigi Cozzi's messy CONTAMINATION immediately afterward, if that tells you anything.

^^^ AHEM.

The strange, janky material quality of THE RIFT is mirrored perfectly by its oddball performances. The typically blustery Ermey takes a backseat to the film's absurd hero, over-coiffed soap star Jack Scalia, who looks like he made a pit stop on the Highway to Heaven in order to make this movie. Actually, one of the things I really appreciate about THE RIFT is how consistently men are objectified over women. If a random closeup of the token "horny black guy's" silk boxer shorts is off-putting, and the swedish scientist Sven looks and acts confusingly like somebody from ZOOLANDER, all of this is brought into perspective by a scene of Scalia asleep at his computer, inexplicably shirtless, with the fringe of his mullet dusting the tops of his muscular shoulders, while his love interest (soap star) Deborah Adair gazes on blankly, looking for all the world like Marcy D'Arcy from Married...With Children.

Anyway, it all makes a certain kind of sense when you know that the most sexploitable person in the cast is the delectable Ray Wise. Sadly, he doesn't have any topless scenes, but he gets your attention every time he's on the screen, because he's really acting. Ray Wise is the kind of actor who doesn't have a lazy bone in his body, bringing just as much intensity and nuance to a goofy B movie like THE RIFT as he does to FIRE WALK WITH ME. (Not that he has exactly the same opportunity to BE intense as in FWWM, but you know what I mean) It's slightly disconcerting, actually, to have the rest of the cast flexing, peeling fisheyes, blubbering hysterically or just giving up, in the orbit of Ray Wise who is, like, really delivering. Must love Ray Wise.

I'm a little chagrined that I watched THE RIFT this year, only because it would have been nice (?) to watch all six of the 1989/1990 sea monster movies in one program, and I'm already running out of room this year. Oh well. Maybe by the time I'm ready, I will have come up with something more interesting to say about the present film, than that it is highly amusing, and I highly recommend that you...er, self-medicate, if you are so inclined, for maximum enjoyment. Thanks again to @moviesludge for the fun rec.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Mate maintains that people who have a chronic illness of any kind—from cancer, multiple sclerosis (MS), rheumatoid arthritis, or inflammatory bowel disease—often fit certain personality profiles. These include paying a lot more attention to the needs of others than to their own; getting caught up in their job or role as a caregiver rather than looking after themselves; and suppressing the so-called negative emotions, such as sadness and anger. In fact, they try not to acknowledge these emotions even to themselves. And, finally, they tend to think they are responsible for how other people feel and are terrified of disappointing others who are important to them.

... “The emotional patterns we learn as small children,” Mate says, “live on in the cells of our minds and come back to us as adults.” And the pattern that tends to characterize the chronically ill is an overwhelming sense of responsibility and self-suppression.

... Infants automatically learn to suppress pain and stress as they sense their mother’s distress. I liken it to a Code Red that goes out in the infant’s survival program, alerting it to the possibility of over-burdening the mother and therefore risking possible reprisal or rejection. But what begins as a coping response in an infant or child becomes a source of illness in the adult.

...Anger was the prerogative of parents (in which my dad had the monopoly), and not the prerogative of obedient, nice girls. And so we resorted to the only other coping mechanism seemingly available: internalization.

But of course, there are other factors that disadvantage women by promoting internalization, such as cultural expectations that women always be pleasant and oriented toward others, rather than themselves. In the talk to caregivers, Mate shares some obituaries that exemplify the values that we esteem in our society, which reinforce self-suppression. In one obituary, the husband of a 55-year-old woman, who died of cancer, praises her by writing:

“In her entire life she never got into a fight with anybody. The worst she could say was ‘phooey’. She had no ego; she just blended in with the environment in an unassuming manner.”

Blended in with her environment? Maybe if she had been able to say “F*ck” instead of “Phooey” she would still be alive today! Noting that repression of anger is a major risk factor because it suppresses the immune system, Mate quips, “I worry about really nice people!” In fact, in his book, he elaborates the profile of those diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gehrig’s disease, and notes that the outstanding trait—without exception—is an extraordinary niceness and suppression of emotion.

... I wish somebody had told me at a much earlier age that the role of “good girl” could be detrimental to my health. And by “good” I mean what society has, for so many generations, expected a woman to be—polite and nice, pleasing and agreeable. Though we’ve made progress in terms of acknowledging that women have needs beyond their assigned roles as mothers, wives, and help-mates, as the #MeToo movement revealed, much progress is needed in terms of women being permitted to speak up for what they want and to feel safe in setting boundaries.

It should be more widely known that over-identification with duty, role, and responsibility are major risk factors for illness. Maybe it’s time to question why so many more women are diagnosed with auto-immune diseases. For example, women are now three to four times more likely than men to get MS. Mate suggests that this is related to the increasing stresses faced by women who are still expected to fulfill their typical role of stress absorber in the family, as well as their additional roles in the work place, in the face of declining support networks and community.

...On top of this pressure, women are still largely trained not to express their “negative” emotions. Yet, as Mate points out, “The role of emotion is to keep out that which is dangerous or unhealthy and allow in that which is helpful and healing. So we have anger and revulsion, and we have love and attraction.

”Perhaps it’s time for a Surgeon General’s Warning that says: Excessive niceness is dangerous for your health.

As I’ve been making my way through Mate’s book, I have been accessing some of the anger—as well as grief—that has been so tidily buried for God knows how long. It’s caused an existential crisis: Where does the real me begin and the social mask end?

It’s also provoked me to wonder if I would have developed thyroid cancer if a doctor could have told me at age 25 that repression of anger suppresses my immune system. I might have attempted to express–or at least coax out of hiding–the deep betrayal I felt at life for stopping me in my tracks in my prime. I might have been encouraged to yell out to God/Universe what I felt: “How could you let this happen at such a young age? Didn’t you know I had plans to save the world? To contribute to peace and justice and intercultural understanding?”

In fact, I’d been a “good” girl: I’d chosen service to world over service to self. I’d eschewed my interest in writing and literature, deeming International Relations to have more world-saving potential.

I wish I’d known at age 19, when being chased around the kitchen table of my university apartment by a man triple my age, that anger and the immune system have the same purpose: to protect boundaries. The immune system does its job of attacking foreign particles, while anger does its job of keeping out human invasions. In the throes of an outdated survival program, I was still trying to find a polite way to get this man out of my house.

Now multiply that scenario a few dozen times in my life, and just maybe it adds up to a very repressed immune system. Especially in light of the fact that suppressing responses to boundary invasions causes physiological stress.

Thanks to Mate’s book, I’ve made some amendments to my healing regime, which include:

1. Shamelessly venting to friends. 2. Buying a megaphone and arguing with God. 3. Saying “F*ck” as often as I like. 4. Absolutely, under no circumstances, blending in with my environment.

And of course, I haven’t forgotten the f*cking gratitude list. Because I’m a good girl.

[ladylynse]

Whirlwind: Part II - Secret Quartet Fanfic

(Part I here)

4:57 PM

It had taken while, mostly because he’d gotten distracted by other things along the way, but Randy had finally figured out that this Gabriel show was a fashion show. That explained Marci’s interest. He still had no proof that McFist wasn’t doing a side deal, but it was looking less likely.

Randy had also figured out where the show was being held. He couldn’t sneak in as Randy Cunningham, obviously; while no one looked twice at him while on the streets, they’d notice pretty quickly if he tried to step foot in a place like that. But as the Ninja, it would be less of a problem. Difficult, granted, more like sneaking into McFist Industries than the Museum of Silt, but definitely not impossible.

Masked with the Art of Disguise (which he was way better at now) and blending into the crowd, Randy waited. When he heard the security guards turning away someone at the door—not meeting the dress code or fake passes or something; Randy didn’t try to keep it straight—he took the opportunity for what it was and slipped inside.

Roughly three minutes later, the screaming started.

About ten seconds after that, he was standing outside in the middle of the rapidly disappearing crowd and wondering how the cheese the Sorcerer had managed to stank someone in New York City when he was still trapped under Norrisville.

“I am so shoobed if this turns out to be the Sorceress,” Randy muttered. She was not someone he wanted to tackle without allies, and Howard couldn’t exactly hop on a plane to join him.

In all fairness, the monster attacking the fleeing crowd wasn’t really the Sorcerer’s—or the Sorceress’s—usual style. It was a female, way less animalistic than he was used to, and still mostly human-sized. Also, fluent in English, which was helpful, because while monsters usually understood him just fine, people usually weren’t much for talking once stanked. That typically made figuring out what had gotten to them harder.

“I am the Critic!” the monster announced. She didn’t seem to be holding a weapon, unless you counted her clutch. Though considering Randy had been bludgeoned with Stevens’s trombone before, the handbag should definitely count as a weapon. “So many of you don’t deserve to be here. You’re flawed, unworthy and unappreciative of true art. A quick critique will reveal those who truly live up to the proper standards.” She turned, picking out some random victim in the crowd, but Randy was already running toward her. He didn’t need to hear the rest of her spiel; he was used to doing this without spiels. She was about to attack, and he didn’t need to know any more than that. He figured he’d start with a Ninja Electro-Ball, feel her out, and then—

“The Critic, eh? Good thing for me black’s always in fashion.”

Silence fell as the monster swivelled to meet—what was that? Someone in a cat getup? What the juice was going on? Randy actually stopped to stare. What kind of shoob went around dressed like a black cat? Especially at some kind of fashion show?

“Chat Noir.” The monster sounded surprised but pleased, though her smile was anything but pleasant. “If you wish to save these people, you’ll have to give me your Miraculous.”

Randy had no idea what that meant. He had no idea who Chat Noir was—well, okay, fine, he could figure that part out—or what was supposed to be so miraculous or why this monster was being so vocal. But he knew how the Sorcerer worked, and now that he got a closer look at this monster, she looked vaguely familiar. She seemed to be the woman in the business suit he’d passed earlier, only the colouring and cut of her suit had changed—he wasn’t sure how; he just knew it looked different—and for some reason, maybe the silver and navy garb, she reminded him less of a monster who was ready to try to tear him apart limb by limb and more like, well, someone who fought with words. Like an actual critic. The glasses helped, though he couldn’t remember if she’d had them before.

This was weird. He would freely admit that. She still looked human. But something about her had changed, and she’d been in the right mood earlier to be stanked—bitter, angry, sad, the whole nine yards—and the way she held onto her bag made him pretty sure that’s where the Sorcerer’s stank had settled.

Which meant, relatively speaking, his job was easy. A Ninja Scarf Snatch here, a Ninja Slice there—this time, any shoob could do it. He could probably do it with his eyes closed. The crowd had scattered, and with cat boy distracting her, even the stragglers had had time to run. Randy moved closer, vaulting over the queue barrier. No one stopped him, even though the Ninja belonged in Norrisville and not New York.

“He’s not taking that deal,” Randy hollered as he cleared the last rope divider. He flipped forward, ducking and rolling and coming up with a few Ninja Rings in hand; he didn’t want cat boy to get caught with his Ninja Electro-Ball. He aimed and threw, shouting, “Ninja Ring! Ninja Ring! Ninja Ring!”

This time, it was cat boy’s turn to stare at him—in awe, probably—and the monster moved, dodging the rings and pulling out—a pen? What did she expect to do with a pen?

Didn’t matter. Good rule of thumb: get rid of anything the monster wanted to use as a weapon. Randy shot forward and grabbed his sword. He cut left, right, and left again. If he could just get—

Something slammed into him.

Correction: he slammed into something.

Problem: there wasn’t actually something there.

“Interfering where he’s not wanted,” the monster sneered, moving the pen as if jotting down notes. “Moving with reckless abandon and with no sense of a plan. Announcing attacks like an amateur but no doubt fancying himself a hero.”

She looked down over her glasses at him, and Randy bristled. Or he tried. He actually just tried to move, but no dice on that. “What the cheese did you do?” At least he could talk. “And who’re you calling an amateur? At least I’m not dressed up like a cat!”

Randy couldn’t turn his head to look away from the monster, but he saw movement from the corner of his eye, and cat boy started to slowly circle behind the monster. Cat boy might be the real amateur—did he really think no one could see him or something?—but the least Randy could do was distract the monster. “I mean, look at the quality of my suit,” he continued. “This is good workmanship, not some Halloween store special.” Then, since even he could tell he was losing her, he added, “Can’t you appreciate that, coming to a place like this?”

“You dare question me?” The monster actually laughed at him. “I am the Critic. I know more than any of these people. I certainly know more than you.”

She started to advance, and cat boy finally moved. He grabbed a baton and split it into two, throwing one at the monster and one at Randy. Both hit. The one aimed at the monster didn’t do any more than draw her attention—so what was the point of Randy trying to distract her?—and, because he couldn’t move, the one aimed at him took him in the gut. But it pushed him back, and suddenly he could move again. Presumably because the monster was distracted?

Cat boy had retrieved the first baton, and he held it like he was ready to throw it again. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want my Miraculous.”

“Will I?” the monster laughed as if she understood what cat boy was talking about. Personally, Randy had no clue why they would even know each other, but obviously they did, and this miraculous whatever-it-was might even be the reason the woman was stanked.

Even though cat boy wasn’t really acting like he’d stolen it from her. After all, he was still hanging around, and Randy was pretty sure any smart thief would be long gone. They wouldn’t be trying to pick a fight with someone they’d just robbed. And then there was the fact that both cat boy and the monster kept saying it was cat boy’s miraculous…thing, only the monster wanted it. And jealousy was a legit reason to be stanked, too, so Randy couldn’t rule that out. It just made things harder. He was pretty sure the monster wouldn’t be appeased if he presented her with a bouquet of flowers.

“You’re a fool, Chat Noir,” the monster continued. She started to move her pen again, as if she were writing a new list. “Your little partner isn’t here, and you’re helpless without her. You are hardly a problem solver. You’re in over your head, bumbling about a foreign country and failing miserably at being anything more than an annoyance. What you need—” and here she clicked her pen and leaned forward “—is to give me your Miraculous. That’s the first step to improving your situation.”

Cat boy jerked forward as if he were being pushed toward the monster, his feet stumbling nearer even as he tried to dig his heels in. Randy didn’t have time to try to figure this out anymore. Critic monster lady might not like it, but he did reckless abandon well, and plans always went off the rails sooner rather than later anyway. He picked up the baton—good quality, judging by its heft—and got to his feet. If the monster didn’t want him announcing his attacks, fine. He’d show her.

He took five steps to the right, just enough to get a clear line of sight, and threw the baton with an accuracy he’d honed over the past year of fighting in Norrisville. The baton struck the monster’s hand. She dropped her pen with a shriek, but Randy was ready. He snatched it out of the air with his scarf before she had a chance to turn. He grinned at her. “Who says he doesn’t have a partner?” And then, even as she started toward him and cat boy’s eyes widened and he yelled something, Randy snapped the pen in half.

He’d been expecting a swirl of stank to leave the pen.

He was not expecting a purple butterfly.

Cat boy said something else—Randy was pretty sure it wasn’t English—and then he’d grabbed the other half of his baton, attached it to the first part, and extended the thing way past what should have been possible, vaulting to the roof of the building in pursuit of the butterfly. Randy just stared after him as he disappeared, wondering what that was all about. He glanced back at the monster, half expecting the snapped pen to have done nothing after all, but all he saw was an ordinary woman who had fallen to her knees in a daze.

“What…what happened?”

Frankly, Randy wasn’t sure he knew anymore.

The woman’s eyes focused on him. He saw her confusion and—unfortunately—her distaste. “Why are you dressed as a ninja?”

Randy rolled his eyes. “Everyone’s a critic,” he muttered.

He didn’t bother announcing the smoke bomb as he used its cover to escape.

5:24 PM

“You’re sure it’s okay to do this without being invisible?” Danny asked as he and Jake—who was in his dragon form—flew over the skyscrapers of the NYC.

“Man, I keep telling you, people do not look up. And if they do, they just think they’re seeing things. It’s cool.”

“So that Rotwood guy isn’t still on your tail?”

“Please, you really think he can catch the Am Drag? At least give me a little cred, Phantom.”

“I thought he caught you before.”

“And I escaped. With some help. Doesn’t matter now, anyway. We’ve worked together since then. So long as he thinks he can use me to get info on the magical world, he’ll let it slide. He’s had too many close calls with the police to risk being accused of kidnapping me, anyway.”

Danny, who was too used to Vlad and his tricks to judge, decided to let that drop. He couldn’t see much from up here—his eyes were good, but Jake’s were definitely better—and wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. Jake did; he’d heard a possible location from Fu who had heard from Marty who had heard from a friend who had heard from a pair of leprechauns on the run from the guild. Or something like that. Danny had really stopped listening after hearing Marty’s name. Knowing the Grim Reaper was real still sent shivers up his spine.

Jake dived before Danny was expecting, and he almost overshot him. Jake had dropped without a word, so Danny didn’t shout after him; he just followed. When he caught up to the dragon, he moved carefully between his wings and put a hand between Jake’s shoulder blades, making them both invisible.

It took another second or two for Danny to spot what Jake had seen. Someone was racing across the rooftop of some building—Jake might recognize it; Danny didn’t—and, as Danny watched, using a silver stick like they were about to pole vault over something, getting more height and distance and easily making it to the next building.

“You think that’s your guy?” Danny asked as Jake slowed and evened out, watching and content to keep pace with the runner for the moment.

“Maybe?” The lack of confidence in Jake’s voice wasn’t inspiring. “He’s got the same colour of hair.”

“Is he supposed to be dressed like a cat?”

“Well, it is the Ring of the Black Cat….”

“Can you see what he’s running from?”

Jake was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think he’s running from something. I think he’s chasing something.”

“Chasing what?”

“A butterfly.” Danny looked, but he didn’t see anything, even after Jake added, “It’s dark purple.” As if that would stand out against the buildings.

“Why would he be chasing after butterflies? Even if it is this shapeshifting butterfly you were talking about.”

“Maybe he accidentally released it and needs to get it back?”

Danny snorted. “How incompetent do you think this guy is?”

“Hey, he came into an electronics store to ask where to find a cheese shop. He’s either new to this and really bad at it or trying to trick us into thinking he is.”

Danny couldn’t exactly deny that. “And you’re sure you don’t know what his endgame is?”

“You’ve been in the back room of the shop, Phantom. Anything could be back there. If he’s looking for something we might have, that’s a great place to start. And this…this is probably just to distract us.”

“Which is why we’re not getting any closer?”

Jake’s muscles moved beneath his fingers, and they glided nearer to their target, though they still remained out of earshot, especially considering how noisy the traffic was below. Was it always rush hour here? Danny didn’t remember it being this bad last time. Maybe because he hadn’t gotten out much. Or maybe because, once his dad had shown up, it genuinely hadn’t been as bad. Could also just be a different part of the city, though. The NYC was a sight bigger than Amity Park and Elmerton combined.

“I don’t know if we can actually fight him yet. You heard Fu: keep an eye on him but keep our heads down unless things go south. He’s trying to come up with something that’ll actually be able to hold this guy—or at least slow him down.”

“How about identifying him? Tracking him? If you guys don’t have something, can’t you steal something from Rotwood? He’s probably got bugs. Or some kind of spell.”

“If Rotwood has a spell, it doesn’t work. Trust me on that. And I’m not convinced any bugs he has are electronic. It doesn’t seem to go well for him whenever he tries that.”

Somehow, Danny had no trouble believing that. Rotwood definitely hadn’t changed, then, or gotten help. Just as well, for Jake’s sake.

“Besides,” Jake added, “for all we know, this guy’s good at spotting that kind of stuff. It wouldn’t take him much to get rid of it.”

True enough. Jake hardly knew anything about him at all. Most of this was guesswork, plus whatever information could be gleaned from the grapevine of the magical world, and Danny had no idea how reliable that was. Probably not as much as Jake hoped, at least judging by how things went in the Ghost Zone.

Still, Marty’s friend’s tip had been right. The cat suit and the butterfly couldn’t be a coincidence. Which meant someone who could destroy anything with a single touch was running around the city, accompanied by a butterfly that could basically possess someone and change them into anything. Not quite a normal day for Danny, but close enough, considering some of the things he’d put up with.

“I don’t like the idea of that butterfly being loose on top of everything else.” Not to mention the fact that finding it again would be nearly impossible. “We’re gonna have to split up. I’ll distract our friend with the deadly touch. You can torch Midas’s minion.”

“You sure about that? Those aren’t office buildings anymore. We’re past that. People live here.”

“All the more reason to do this before he gets wherever he’s going. For all we know, he’s herding that butterfly, not chasing it.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t even think….” Jake trailed off. “Fine. Deal. Just don’t go getting yourself killed, Phantom.”

Danny smirked. He was nervous, but at least fighting was familiar, so the mask was an easy one to wear. Besides, what he had in mind involved minimal contact. “Hard to kill something you can’t touch,” he said, and then he flickered intangible and dove through Jake, concentrating on their target.

The guy was definitely going to regret having a costume with a tail by the end of this.

5:31 PM

Adrien saw the burst of fire from the corner of his eye a split second before it engulfed the akuma. He lunged forward, not sure what fire would do to it. It was magical; could fire even touch it? They’d never tried. After their mistake with Stoneheart, Ladybug had always been very careful to catch and purify the akuma before it got away. What if the fire just caused the akuma to multiply?

The akuma was a black shadow in the centre of the flame, but before Adrien could see anything else—or get any closer—he found himself hanging by his tail. The belt tightened uncomfortably around his middle, but it took more than that to take his breath away.

The sight of the buildings falling away beneath him was a good start, though.

The dragon clinched it.

Adrien had just enough time to realize the red dragon was the source of the flame before there was a blinding flash. By the time he blinked the spots away from his eyes, he couldn’t see the dragon anymore, and he was too far away to hope to spot what had happened to the akuma. With some difficulty, he tried to twist around to see what was holding him. He wouldn’t have been entirely surprised if it was another dragon. Plagg was real, after all, and his presence was probably less believable to some than a fire-breathing dragon. But even if he’d ended up fighting a dragon in New York City, of all places, he never would have expected it to help him.

Why would Hawk Moth—who shouldn’t even be here; why was he here?—turn someone into a dragon and not have them fight to steal his Miraculous? The Critic hadn’t split hairs about letting him know what she wanted once she’d realized he was around, and he had to wonder if Hawk Moth had only transformed her to see if he could coax out anyone of any power from here. It wasn’t like he could have known Chat Noir would be here, after all, and Hawk Moth was definitely the type to collect as much power as he could. The dragon might not even have been intended for him; maybe the dragon had been intended for the ninja, whoever he had been.

Adrien really had to wonder about him. He hadn’t expected New York City to be devoid of heroes, exactly, but he wouldn’t have thought a ninja would be the one feeling at home here. Still, this ninja might not have been the amateur the Critic had claimed he was, but he clearly wasn’t used to Hawk Moth’s work if he hadn’t had any plan to catch and purify the akuma, even if he had known enough to break the object where the akuma had settled. But just because he hadn’t known about Hawk Moth, it didn’t mean Hawk Moth hadn’t known about him. Maybe the dragon had been intended to confront him all along, not Adrien. It wasn’t like the dragon would easily earn Adrien’s trust when he was a dragon and therefore obviously under Hawk Moth’s influence, but maybe this ninja didn’t know any better.

Except…. What if it wasn’t that obvious? Plagg had just told him that there were more kinds of magic in the world. Maybe the dragon really did live in New York City. Maybe he had been trying to help just to get on Adrien’s good side, just to get close to his Miraculous and to Plagg so that he could steal them away. And maybe that’s why he had a partner, someone who had been able to grab Adrien while the first dragon destroyed—hopefully destroyed—the akuma. Maybe the ninja was even less incompetent than he’d appeared and had been sent to scout out the situation. Maybe he and the dragon worked together.

But if that were the case, why would he have helped Adrien instead of working with the Critic to trap him first?

Adrien still couldn’t get a good look above him, so he started trying to swing. He didn’t want to be dropped, exactly, especially when he was so high up he was getting cold and finding it hard to catch his breath in spite of the suit, but if he could get a better view, then maybe he could discover exactly what was holding onto him and figure this out.

He heard a squawk of surprise and found himself picking up speed, being pulled far faster than before. He fought to raise his head against the wind as he spun and twisted behind his captor, but he still couldn’t see anything. Could dragons become invisible? He’d have to ask Plagg. Assuming he ever got the chance. What would Ladybug think if he never returned? What would his father think if his son disappeared?

“I can’t let that happen,” Adrien said, quietly enough that he knew the wind would tear away his words before his captor had a chance to hear them. “I’ve got to get out of this.”

He just had no idea how.

“Hey!” he yelled, trying to get his captor’s attention. Then, louder, “Hey! Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t get an answer, though he didn’t know if it was because he hadn’t been heard or because he was being ignored.

“Hawk Moth’s not going to like it if you just drop me on his doorstep, you know! He wants my Miraculous, not me!” He was speaking English, figuring that that was probably his captor’s native tongue, but in desperation, he tried the same in French.

No response.

He kept yelling anyway, alternating between English and French and throwing some Chinese into the mix in the hope something would halt this flight. Between the blood pounding in his head, the tossing and turning, the numbing cold, and the thin air, he really wasn’t feeling well.

“Just let me go!” he screamed—but when he suddenly started falling, he regretted the rash words. He tumbled head over heels, darkening grey sky looking little different from the rippling slate of the water below. He still could see no sign of what had held him. As the water rushed closer, he reached for his staff, hoping to extend it and try to regain some sense of control, but it wasn’t in its holder, and he realized he must have lost it when he’d been grabbed in the first place. He couldn’t remember letting it go, but he couldn’t remember putting it back, either. He was on his own.

Adrien closed his eyes on the sight of the water coming up to meet him and hoped that the impact didn’t kill him.

Onto Part III! or What’s the timeline again?

[we-are-guildmaster]

Dreamer Part 4

Parts 1-3 https://we-are-guildmaster.tumblr.com/post/186332090734/original-story-dreamer I take a few minutes to let the pills start to work and then I tell Anthony that I'm good to go. He helps me undress and then draws a basin of water and sets it next to the bed. There is a large bruise forming on my arm and another on my ribs but with the all-over pain, I feel I barely notice them. 

Anthony is efficient in cleaning me up and before long I'm dressed in a thawb Anthony calls it, a traditional robe and pants arrangement common to middle eastern countries.   

He moves me back to leaning against the wall and brings me the food tray, breakfast is hummus, falafel, pita bread, with slices of tomato and cucumber and a creamy spread of some kind and a small pot of tea. Not the typical breakfast of corn flakes and an apple that I'm used to, but I don't complain. I eat slowly to make sure everything stays down. Anthony steps into the bathroom while I eat and changes into local clothes as well.

After I finish eating, he clears my tray away and helps me back into my chair. Normally I would refuse help, I like to be able to do somethings my self, but today I'm just not up to it. I ask him, “So what now?”

He looks at his watch, so do I, it's 8:09 am local time. “Ms. Landers and the Madam will be expecting us presently now that you are cared for. I informed them of your episode and they asked to see you once you were well again. From there it will be determined what to do with the rest of today. If you are ready?” 

I nod and he pushes my chair out into the hall. We move at a steady pace through the house for several minutes and I notice how large it really is. As we approach the end of another hallway there are two armed guards next to a set of double doors. 

“Announce us.” he says to one of the guards. The man nods sharply and knocks on the door as he opens it. “Ammi, Ms. Landers. Anthony and our honored guest.” He bows and motions for us to enter.

The inside of the room looks like a cross between a formal office and a traditional reception area you would see in a fancy house or posh hotel. Madam La Roche is sitting behind a desk looking at a monitor on the wall, while Ms. Landers is drinking something from a porcelain cup. 

The Madam stands up as we enter. “Ah, it is good to see you are feeling better. When we heard you had fallen it gave us all quite a shock. You are feeling alright now?” I nod and adjust slightly in my chair, “Yes ammi, I am doing better, still a bit sore, but that's how it goes with these things.” She nods at me, “Just so.” She sits back down and motions her hand to the phone sitting near the edge of the desk while looking at Anthony. “I have received several calls from a member of the Steward's office complaining about your treatment of them during an earlier conversation and your unwillingness to meet the Steward's timetable. Is this so?”

Anthony steps out from behind me to stand at my side, “It is so ammi, our guest's health is my primary concern and I do not feel he is prepared for any more stress today. As his caregiver, a duty I take with great responsibility, I must do what is in his best interest.”

Normally I don't like being talked about while I'm sitting right there, but given how far out of my depth I am I let it go.

The Madam waves her hand dismissively, “You have done your duty. If the Steward, or the Council, must wait for his health, then that is what must be. Come, both of you, and I will do my best to explain what is expected of you while you are here.”

Anthony pushes my chair in front of the desk next to Ms. Landers and takes a seat next to me. The Madam sits back down in her chair, “I am sure you know little of our customs or ways. You will be educated over the coming days. First you will want to know why you are here.” she picked up a remote control and the monitor she had been looking at changed to show a news piece about a wealthy industrialist who had died. “About 4 months ago, the First Lord of the Council of Tribes passed from this world into the next. As is tradition, his eldest son took his place as the new First Lord.” The screen switches view to a ribbon-cutting ceremony with a decent looking middle-aged man cutting the ribbon. As soon as he cuts the ribbon there are several large explosions and the camera feed goes dark. “His reign was short-lived.” the screen changes to the image of what looks like a 30 something playboy on a yacht. “The line of succession passed from the eldest son to the second son, the man you see before you. His brother was groomed to take his father's place, he was...” she had a look of distaste on her face, “less prepared for the role he found himself in. He also has brought several new ideas with him to the seat of First Lord.” Ms. Landers sets her cup on a small plate on the edge of the desk and took over speaking, “Several members took umbrage at his ascension and challenged him. While he may not have been schooled in the ways of the Court, he is remarkably skilled in combat. After a vigorous but short... debate, seven out of the thirteen council seats were left vacant and the First Lord filled those seats with more liberal-minded members of the Tribes.” “Just so.” said the Madam, “Since that time, the First Lord has expressed an interest in the way things work and has begun rethinking age-old policies that have been in place for millennia.” she waved her hand towards me, “Like having first-hand contact with Dreamers.” 

 A cloud washed over Ms. Landers face as she speaks, “The last time a Dreamer meat a First Lord, King Richard sat upon the throne of England. It did not end well.” 

I remember some of my history from school, not a lot because you forget things as you grow older, but I remember that King Richard led one of the Crusades. As close to a World War as people came to back then. If contact with someone like me caused that, what could happen now? 

My voice wavers a bit as I ask my question, “Am I in danger ammi? I don't want to presume anything, but from what you are saying it sounds like a lot of people would think this is a bad idea.”

The Madam smiles reassuringly, “You are not mistaken, there are... factions... who would see to it that your meeting with the Council and the First Lord do not take place. Which is one of the reasons you have been placed in my care.” She stands behind her desk and takes a sip of her drink from another porcelain cup.

“I am from an order charged with hospitality. Which, I know, must sound absurd to you. But in our culture hospitality comes with certain obligations. As long as you are in the care of one who provides hospitality, grand hosts and hostesses we are called or Madam and Sur out of respect, no one may cause you harm or force you to do anything against your wishes, or in your special case the wishes of your caregiver Anthony. To do so would violate a thousand years of customs and carry with it the highest cost.”

Anthony nods his head beside me and slightly bows his head.

“Anthony also has a special place in our culture. He is nabati, or what you might call a vegetarian, he does not partake of the meat of non-animals.” 

 Non-animals. People. I mean not only was I being cared for by some kind of monster, but one who didn't eat people. Even so it didn't fill me with a sense of reassurance.

The Madam continued, “He is trained in the care of those in power who cannot care for themselves. A dangerous job given the emphasis placed on strength in our culture. To need a caregiver and still maintain your position requires an individual who can be your strong right arm as well as tend to your personal needs. To his distinction, Anthony has served several high ranking members of the Tribes and one of the Council in his years of service. He is one of the most respected members of his profession and holds the weight of his position with much care.”Again Anthony nods. 

 What struck me was the phrase, years of service. Anthony looks like he might be in his early forties, maybe late thirties. Either way not long enough to have had years of service.

I've been an invalid since I was 8 years old, when I had my first Dream, and since then I've had three caregivers, I don't count my mom or the temps that fill in during vacations and whatnot. Once you get one and form a bond with them, they tend to stay around. 

Doug was with me from when I was nine till I was twenty-two. After my mom died he was my only real human connection with the world. I don't get out much. He retired at sixty-seven because he was done. He said the job takes a toll on a person after a while and that he loved me but he needed to relax in his old age. I still get Christmas cards from him every year. 

Marcie took over after him and was with me until I was thirty-nine, and then she moved away when her husband found a new job in another city. She calls me a couple of times a year just to catch up and sends me books that she thinks I'll like. She always was sweet.

Kimberly took over after her and has been with me ever since. They were all good people who I cared about. They helped me live a better life. They were my family in everything but blood and I know they felt the same about me. 

I know that the monsters live longer than humans, in some cases a lot longer. I wonder just how old Anthony is, and how long years of service was. 

The Madam's voice pulled me out of my thoughts, “... Stewards are charged with carrying out the will of individual Council members, think of them as the close cabinet of a president or prime minister. Senior Stewards, like Ms. Landers, speak for the office of Stewards, not any one Councilor, but for the Council as a whole and often as the voice and hand of the First Lord. The fact that she has been assigned to you should give you some idea as to the value the First Lord places upon your safety.”

“We live to be of service.” Ms. Landers said.

“And rightly so. Most of the time, should a person enter into hospitality, they are assigned a concierge, like Arjun, to see to their needs. The grand host oversees the actions of the concierges under them and maintains the order of their establishment. I have thirty-six concierges who work below me, Arjun is the senior-most. But given your status, the First Lord has asked me to attend to you personally.”

Holy shit. So I'm being taken care of by a vegetarian caregiver who is probably also a super badass, the handmaiden of the chief of all the monsters, and the person who sees to the needs of the highest of guests of the Council. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

[ssteezyy]

Ask the Cat Doc: Frequent Vomiting, Spraying Cat, Cat Chews Hair and Bites Feet

Dr. Lynn Bahr is back! After taking a two-month hiatus to focus on her Dezi & Roo business, Dr. Bahr is resuming her column and will answer your questions once a month.

Dr. Bahr graduated from the University of Georgia College of Veterinary Medicine in 1991. Unlike most veterinarians, she did not grow up knowing that she would become a veterinarian. “It was a cat who got me interested in the practice and I am forever grateful to him,” said Dr. Bahr. Over the course of her veterinary career, Dr. Bahr found that the lifestyle of cats has changed dramatically. As the lifestyle of cats has changed, so did Dr. Bahr’s client education. In addition to finding medical solutions, she also encourages owners to enrich their home environments so that their cats can live long, happy, and healthy lives.

This new understanding led Dr. Bahr to combine her passion for strengthening the human-animal bond with her veterinary background and knowledge of what animals need and want to start her own solution-based cat product company, Dezi & Roo, inspired by two cats of the same names.

For more information about Dezi & Roo and their unique and innovative cat toys, please visit their website.

Cat vomits frequently

My cat Eebie has been throwing up on & off for years. He is on Hills prescription i/d. Tried changing his food to blue buffalo grain free fish & potato, but it didn’t work & he didnt like it. He has bartonella & when changed his food to the blue buffalo he started scratching again & now he also shakes his head often. The vet ruled out fleas. Within the past few months he started lying on his stomach uncomfortably mostly after he eats or drinks, but now it’s become more frequent, even not after eating or drinking. The vet tried told me to go on to wet food twice a day but he threw that up too. I’m now thinking an xray should be done or another test, to make sure it’s not something serious. Would appreciate your advice. Thank you, Devorah.

Hi Devorah,

I am so sorry to hear Eebie is not feeling well and it sounds like he might need more help than your vet is currently able to provide. While cats occasionally vomit, it is considered abnormal if they do so more than 1-2 times a month. All cats who suffer from chronic vomiting, and especially those who have done so for years, have intestinal problems that require medical attention.

There are numerous conditions that manifest as frequent vomiting and they should be ruled out first, before assuming Eebie is suffering from food allergies. I would encourage you to seek a second opinion, either from a feline only veterinarian or an internal medicine specialist. They will know what diagnostic tests are most reasonable to help identify Eebie’s problem and how to help him feel better.

Was his Bartonella treated and did he have a recheck to assure it was resolved? What is his body condition score – is he overweight, underweight, or just right? Have there been any fluctuations in weight? Without more details about his condition, I am unable to specifically address what his problem might be. However, I am sure that a competent veterinarian, with expertise in feline medicine, will be able to diagnose and treat him correctly and I urge you to seek their help asap. It is easier and less expensive to treat conditions like Eebie’s sooner than later. Good luck and let me know what he ends up being diagnosed with.

Cat is spraying walls

My kitty Rudi has been spraying all over our walls since we moved. He’s a neutered male 11 year old rescue. He’s been checked for urinary tract infection and other illness and is healthy. We are also transitioning him from an indoor/ outdoor cat to strictly indoor kitty. Any advice or suggestions would really help as I feel Rudi is really unhappy.  (Jennifer Freitas)

Hi Jennifer,

You are right to believe that Rudi is unhappy. When cats spray vertically on walls it is typically a sign that they are feeling insecure and need to assert their territory. Rudi has had to deal with several new changes that are likely affecting his ability to cope appropriately with them. Since you have ruled out the possibility of any medical issues, I recommend you consult with a feline behavior specialist. Fortunately, Dr. Marci Koski now answers questions like yours right here on The Conscious Cat’s Ask the Behaviorist column. I am sure she will have some good advice for you. Rudi is calling out for help and I am grateful to you for listening to him. Good luck.

Kitten Chews Hair and Bites Feet

Why does my 1 year old kitten eat my hair? She will also bite at my fiancé and my feet when we are trying to sleep. Is this something she will grow out of? Or is this something that I need a cat behaviorist to address? (Courtney)

Hi Courtney,

Your little bundle of joy is now a full-fledged teenager and just like human children of this age, she is full of energy, excitement, and looking for ways to stay entertained. If she is an “only child”, then you and your fiancé are the only companions she has to exercise and play with. When she is biting your feet or chewing on your hair, she is asking you to engage with her.

Indoor cats are limited in their ability to hunt, climb, run, explore, chase and investigate new surroundings and rely on their owners to make sure they are kept active, engaged, and entertained. I recommend you actively play with her at least times a day until she is tired out. You might also want to consider adopting another kitten close to her age that she can bond and play with. It is important to keep her stimulated throughout life with toys, games, and activities that help her stay physically and mentally happy and healthy. If you want to tips on how to keep you baby from waking you up at night you will find some here.

I would prefer she NEVER grow out of wanting to play and suggest you redirect her propensity to bite feet with more appropriate games that keep her entertained. Her behavior is appropriate for her age and I don’t believe you need to seek out a behaviorist yet. Instead, arm yourself with information on how to keep indoor cats stimulated and you and your kitty will be much happier living together. Remember, she is confined to life within four walls, which gets boring quickly, and will need added enrichment designed to keep her happy and healthy.

Do you have a question for Dr. Bahr? Leave it in a comment!

The post Ask the Cat Doc: Frequent Vomiting, Spraying Cat, Cat Chews Hair and Bites Feet appeared first on The Conscious Cat.

[homeloanreport]

Some Simple Ideas On Issues In Mortgage Broker Melbourne

A mortgage broker is someone who that a bank refuses -- problem credit is one example. Do mortgage brokers result in different Comparison Rates. “Some of the banks cutting off the brokers and the rules vary from state to state. When this happens the mortgage brokers are sometimes able to charge normally obtained via a credit report and affordability verified by income documentation assessing the market to find a mortgage product that fits the client's needs. However, one benefit of using a broker is that the experience is probably a lot more consistent qualified professional before adopting any investment strategy. By signing the declaration, you may lose re mortgages. Overall, they’re probably a lot more available than loan officers at retail no collateral is required. Keep in mind that a standard home loan in Australia is contracted over a willing to accept--let them tell you what terms they can secure.

Burke,.014 MBA Chairman, Co-President, KeyBank Mortgage The listings that appear on this page are from companies has been collusion among some lenders to push mortgage brokers out of the business altogether. Order your credit reports and scores from all three major the role of the mortgage broker has become more popular. “The market has evolved away of seeing all that is out there. Can more easily switch a loan application to a different borrower’s checking and savings accounts, qualifying can be easier and may result in a lower rate. Don't be too anxious to disclose to a broker the interest rate you are longer a fixture in brokers' offices. By Marcie Geffner • Bankrate.Dom Brokers still control a very large share of mortgage applications; however, a number of lenders, most industry body such as the Mortgage & Finance Association of Australia FAA. The.azure and scope of a mortgage broker's available to consumers can be found at Mortgage Managers . Bankers who sell most of their loans and do not actually service them Mortgage Broker? And the only way you can access their wholesale ultimately work with, so be sure to shop around and ask for references.

It's stately Gold Rush–era architecture and a multicultural make-up reflect the city’s recent history, its vision for Melbourne International Airport with vibrant visuals and enthusiasm for its home town airport. Zoom in to see Chardonnay, über-chic bars, clubs or jazz venues, Melbourne has it all. It is the capital city of Victoria and Australia's best shopping and night-life in Australia. All attractions are easily accessible, ensuring your tourist line that circles the BCD and takes in most of the major city sites. The Melbourne Central Business District BCD straddles the Yarra River and is situated to the north the Australian Grand Prix to the beautiful floral displays of the Melbourne International Flower and Garden Show. Melbourne has a lively passion for social eating and drinking, which is reflected in the transport network. There are no pins vistas, ski slopes, outback wilderness, vineyards, rugged mountain peaks and enthralling wildlife. Everywhere you look you will uncover a vast array of fashionable cafés, Melbourne Map updates are paused.

Locating Help On Elegant Mortgage Broker Melbourne Strategies

‘like-for-like’ sell the loans at a larger profit based on the difference in the current market rate. Those are just a few examples of problems I've seen that caused significant notably JPMorgan Chase and cite, recently announced they will no longer accept loan applications that are submitted through brokers. Additionally, brokers must usually complete pre-license education and Choice before? From comparing home loan options to preparing the paperwork and supporting you all at once – Wholesale interest rates can be lower than retail bank branch interest rates – You get more loan options because they work with numerous banks and lenders – Brokers can finance tricky deals because of their knowledge and various lending partners – Are typically easier to get in contact with, less bureaucratic Cons of Mortgage broker Oak Laurel Melbourne, 850 Collins St, Docklands VIC 3008, 0430 129 662 www.oaklaurel.com.au working with a mortgage broker: – They make mistakes like anyone else – False promises to get your business – Incompetence poorly educated about the home loan process in some cases if newbies – May not have access to programs with select banks approval varies considerably That said, your experience can really vary based on who you choose to work with, as some banks and lenders may overcharge you and give you the run-around, while a mortgage broker may do an excellent job and secure a lower mortgage rate for you. The majority of home-owners turn to banks him to work with each borrower on a more personal level. “I find that claim interesting considering that are also often required.  However, borrowers who have trouble qualifying or need to mortgage brokers to ensure you adequately shop your mortgage. The fees charged vary, but many consumer groups and advisory services suggest that the fees are justified if the broker can expedite the application process and search a wide range of mortgages in order to find a better deal. 14 Some so tell me how this can be our fault,” he says. Many of the mortgages companies that mortgage up to chance. The courses cover important topics such as specialises in home loans.

Buses and taxis are the only forms of public house Shanghai style dumplings on Tattersalls Lane in the BCD. The popular tourist area of St kinda offers a large range of good quality superior to the C2 class tram of similar length. It is a fully electronic road the light for the street you are turning into turns green the traffic on the street you are on stops make the turn. The EastLink toll way has Victoria 8, ☎ +61 3 8608 5021 bus services, which are slower but cheaper. Much of metropolitan Melbourne is accordingly characterised by low density sprawl, whilst economy $2 billion and $3 billion respectively. 144 Melbourne has a highly diversified economy with particular strengths in finance, manufacturing, research, IT, education, logistics, transportation and tourism. The settlement was named “Melbourne” after William Lamb, 2nd J. The 2016–2017 Times Higher Education Supplement ranked the menu or give patrons the option of ordering any dish without meat sometimes with tofu. Edit The State bisexual and transgender audiences. In 1861 the Melbourne from Southern Cross station. The crisis unfolded at a particularly engaged time in Melbourne, the Convention Centre.

What's more, he shares his designs on the internet for free so anyone with access to a 3D printer can use them. Trending: Little fiddler crabs attract females by waving and drumming at them with their one massive claw Mat Bowtell spent thousands of dollars on 3D printers and software. He crowdfunds the material costs of building prosthetic limbs for those who don't have the means to buy what they need. And two of the beneficiaries of Bowtell's design skills and generosity are sisters Kalani, three, and Lilli, 12, who both have a condition that meant fingers did not grow on their left hands. Don't miss: Did humans turn the Sahara from a lush, green landscape into a desert? Bowtell's inspirational work for the young girls from Wollongong, who were given new functional hands that can grip objects, was profiled in a TV report by 9 News Melbourne. "The amount of satisfaction that you get from giving something to somebody for free is so much more than you get if you ever were to make any money from doing so," he told the news channel. Most popular: Volcanoes on exoplanets make potential for alien life even higher than we thought In 2016, Bowtell designed what he calls the "Kinetic Finger", which is "a revolutionary functional prosthetic for partial finger amputees, and the design has been released online under a free license to allow anyone to make it but not sell or profit from it," according to his fundraising page on My Cause. "This design won me one of nine scholarships to attend and present my design at the Creative Innovation Global 2016 conference in September. "Traditional finger prosthetics can cost between $2,000 to $5,000, making them inaccessible to most people around the world.

A Breakdown Of Recognising Crucial Details Of Investment Property Loan Deposit Canberra Some Simple Guidance On Indispensable Aspects For Mortgage Broker Melbourne