#quick messy sketch because i needed to get this out of my system. sorry

[xulips]

whatever path i take, you'll always be by my side

[asofterfan]

Winter Winds

Chapter 2: Wake Me Up When September Ends

Previous ~ Next

Summary: A new client arrives...

Warnings: None that I can think of (shocking I know)

The next morning, to absolutely no one’s surprise, Remy burst through the door of the shop at 11am.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I’m late, but it wasn’t my fault this time!” Remy panted. He was in the ragged sweatpants and baggy crop top that everyone in the shop recognized as his pajamas, a flannel wrapped hastily around his waist. Gripping his coffee and a pastry bag like a lifeline, he looked around the shop frantically, “Where’s the client, I’ll share my muffin or something to appease them.”

“Oh, their appointment isn’t for another half hour,” Ali deadpanned.

“…Excuse me?”

“Yeah,” Ali drawled with a smirk, “I had a feeling this would happen so I told you the appointment time was an hour earlier than it actually is.”

Remy sputtered indignantly, “That’s…! How dare you, I….!”

“Remy, drink your coffee,” Rafael chimed in, snickering, “Your sleepy sass sounds do not make a particularly compelling argument.”

Huffing, Remy threw his bag onto a chair in his station, “You guys are the worst. I ran here. RAN. I haven’t moved that fast since gym class in high school.”

“You expect us to believe you ran in gym?” Cass challenged.

“Exactly! You guys are literally worse than high school gym!” Remy glared at each of them in turn, shoving his muffin into his mouth angrily.

Shaking their heads fondly, the rest of the staff returned to their various tasks as Remy finished his breakfast, sipping on his coffee. The caffeine didn’t hit fast enough and he found himself yawning. “Uuuuuuuugh,” Remy groaned, throwing himself into an empty chair at the front desk and laying his head on his arms.

“Sleepyhead, don’t-” Brett began before being cut off.

“Relax, gurl, I’m just resting my eyes.”

Brett shook his head, “Famous last words.”

~

“Remy.”

The artist groaned, burrowing his face deeper into his arms.

“Remyyyyy.”

Someone was shaking his shoulder, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything more than grumble. Surely whoever it was would leave him alone soon.

“REMY!”

A loud ‘BANG’ inches from his face had Remy shooting upright, sunglasses clattering onto the desk and nearly falling out of his chair as he regained his bearings, blinking rapidly. Heart still beating rapidly, he turned to glare at Cass, who was staring down at him with a smirk, her hands still on the desk where she had hit it to wake him up.

“What kind of disrespect?!” Remy exclaimed.

Cass only snickered, “Hey, we warned you not to ‘rest your eyes’, Sleepyhead,” She crossed her arms as she chastised him, “Your client is here, so look alive!”

A light chuckle came from behind her, and for the first time Remy noticed the newcomer. The man was short, standing only slightly taller than Cass’ 5’5”, but he was muscular, and he fit in perfectly with the studio. Ripped jeans and a tattered black tee shirt under a leather jacket, with tattoos poking out from the neckline. He had an undercut, short black hairs contrasting sharply with the messy red/orange gradient that fell around his face, and dark circles under his eyes. When they made eye contact, he gave Remy a crooked smirk, raising his hand lazily in greeting.

“‘Sup.”

Raising an eyebrow, Remy sighed through his nose before grabbing his sunglasses and plastering on a smile as he pushed them onto the top of his head, “Hey gurl, sorry I’m late-”

“I mean, technically you were here on time-”

“Whatever, yeah,” Remy waved his hand dismissively as he gathered his notebooks and his now cold coffee, “Alright, let’s get this appointment going,” He sauntered past the two, entering the lounge in the back, dropping into one of the couches, “Come on, chop chop, waiting on you hon.”

Shaking his head in amusement, the client followed leisurely, as Cass rolled her eyes and returned to her own station.

The lounge was situated past the entry area, and was cleaner and more professional than the staff break room in the back. Photos of the staff and framed art covered the walls, along with a copy machine in the corner, a few couches, and a large coffee table with the artists’ portfolios spread out across it. Consultations were always held in the lounge so that both the client and the artists could be comfortable as they discussed their projects.

As the man sat down, Remy held a hand out, “As you’ve probably already gathered, I’m Remy.”

“Toby,” he replied, shaking the offered hand. Remy noticed his eyes dart down to his pronoun necklace, but he didn’t make any comment.

“So,” Remy crossed his legs, getting comfortable, “let’s talk tatts. I can see you have some tattoos already, you been to our shop before?”

Toby leaned his arms against the back of the couch casually, “Nah. I lived a few hours away during college and just moved back last year. This is the first tattoo I’ve gotten since then.”

Remy nodded, “Alright, so I’ll need to get your information before you leave for our files. But first, tell me about what you’re looking to get.”

Nodding, Toby pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, smoothing it out as he handed it to the artist with a grin, “I want to get this quote in the center of my back, with some kind of border around it.”

“Well that’s not vague at all,” Remy drawled, taking the page and looking down at the quote.

“Ha! I know, I know,” Toby rubbed at his neck, grinning sheepishly, “I guess I was kind of thinking maybe like, branches, or leaves or something. But honestly I’m open to anything if you’ve got any ideas.

Remy hummed noncommittally. Maybe it was because he was still a little drowsy, but he couldn’t think of anything other than the usual cliches. Virgil might be able to come up with something. “This is a pretty long quote. How big did you want this?”

“I don’t have any tattoos on my back, so I’m cool with it taking up as much space as you think it needs.”

“How do you feel about editing this quote down a little? Just to give some more room for the design.”

Tilting his head, Toby thought about it for a moment, “I think that’d be fine. Could I edit it down myself and email it to you once I’ve worked out what I want?”

“Yeah girl, ain’t no thing,” taking a long sip of his coffee, he leaned back against the couch, “Now, a tattoo this big isn’t going to be cheap, or quick. Obviously what you choose for the final design for the border will effect it, but if I had to guesstimate I’d say you’re looking at probably a four hour session. We could also break it into two session if you wanted.”

“Cool, that’s about what I expected,” he grinned, “Don’t worry, I’ve been saving for this.”

“Oh, I wasn’t worried,” Remy raised an eyebrow, “We get your card information before we start inking. I ain’t letting anyone tatt and dash.”

Toby barked out a laugh, “That’s a good system.”

“Mmhmm,” Remy nodded, making a few quick notes in his notebook, “Alright. I’mma need to photocopy your ID and have you fill out some paperwork while we work out a date for you.”

Nodding, Toby pulled out a beat up leather wallet, pulling out his driver’s license to give to the artist. Remy took it and stood to go to the copy machine when he suddenly froze, staring down at the plastic card.

“Toby, huh?” Smirking teasingly, Remy waved the card in front of him, “Cause this says your name is October.”

Raising an eyebrow, the man in question grinned, “Who doesn’t love October?”

“I’m not a fan,” Remy deadpanned. It was a total lie, of course, October was objectively the best month, “Besides, if that’s the case why go by Toby? Honestly if no one calls you Doc Oct then what’s the point?” Suddenly he gasped, “Wait. Hold up. Girrrrrrrl why do I suspect you have too many autumn tatts?”

“I have exactly the right amount of autumn tatts.”

Looking back down at the license, Remy burst into giggles, “And your birthday is October 1st?? This is too much, like, I am unprepared for this situation.”

“Falling for me already?” Toby leaned forward, eyes bright and wearing playful grin.

Shaking their head, Remy pulled out a form from one of the drawers in the coffee table, “Tsk, I’m surprised it took you that long to bust out a pun,” he handed the paper to him.

“I try to ease people into the fact that I’m both hot and witty,” he grabbed a pen from the coffee table and began filling in his information.

“And modest, too,” Remy leaned against the copy machine as he waited for it to finish printing.

“What can I say, I’ve got it all.”

“Except height.”

Toby gasped dramatically, putting a hand over his heart in mock offense, “Low blow!”

“Any higher and it’d go over your head,” Remy grinned, tossing his ID onto the coffee table and setting the photocopy aside.

Chuckling, the man returned to filling out the form, “Don’t think I didn’t notice the heels on those boots. You can’t be that much taller than me.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Remy took out his phone, leaning against the wall as he flipped through his calendar, “Alright, so as far as setting you up with an appointment. I’ll need some time to get the design drawn up and approved by you. Plus I’m pretty booked, so next available time slot I could fit you in would be next month on the 18th at noon.”

“What day of the week is that?”

“Wednesday.”

“Hm, no go. Do you have anything on Thursday? The 19th?”

Remy scrolled down the page before nodding, “Yeah, that day is clear. You can pick the time.”

“Let’s do 1pm, I am not a morning person,” Toby looked up and smirked, holding out the completed form to Remy.

“Mood,” Remy grinned back, looking over the page to double check everything looked good before grabbing a stapler from next to the copy machine to attach the photocopy of Toby’s ID. “Alright then, I think you’re set.”

“Aw, getting rid of me already?” Toby leaned forward, chin in hand and he smiled up at the artist, “But we’re having so much fun.”

“So let’s quit while we’re ahead, mmkay?” Tossing his hair back, he picked up his notebook from the table, “I’ll email you once I have a sketch of the design to get your opinion or whatev.”

“I look forward to it,” he stood with a wink.

Remy deadpanned, “Well that makes one of us.”

“So cold,” Toby shook his head with a laugh, “Alright, thanks for everything. We’ll talk soon.”

“Uh huh, byeeee,” Remy waved his fingers as Toby finally left the shop. He barely made it to his station to put his things away and start preparing for his next appointment when Cass’ face peaked above the wall dividing their stations.

“Soooo,” She grinned teasingly, “You two seemed to get along.”

“Ali said I have to have some level of professional courtesy with the clients,” Remy raised an eyebrow.

Cass rolled her eyes, “Oh come on, you were both sassing easy as breathing! He’s the first person I’ve seen in a long time, if ever, that could keep up with you.”

“Oh my God, so what? Witty banter happens, it’s all around us, be more chill, girl.”

“You have his number~” she sing-songed, pointing to the form Remy was putting into his client drawer.

“Yeah, I needed his contact info. He’s my client.”

“Oh come on, we’re not doctors or anything, there’s no rule against artist/canvas relationships.”

“‘Relationships’? Ew.”

Cass laughed, “Alright, maybe not a relationship, but there’s nothing stopping you from tapping that!”

Remy felt his teeth clench together, and a lot of words flew through his mind, but he didn’t feel like he had the self-restraint to say any of them in less than a scream. So he settled for a cold, “Right, nothing at all,” as he pushed his sunglasses down over his eyes and returned to looking over the designs he needed to print for his next client.

“Hey, Sleep, I was just kidding,” Cass’ voice was a little softer, “We all know you’re not into that. It was a joke.”

It was a joke he’d heard too many times. It wasn’t really funny anymore. Still, he glanced over the top of his glasses and smiled, “I know, hon, it ain’t no thing.”

“You just seemed to get along more than you usually do with clients,” Cass continued, “If nothing else he just seems like a cool guy.”

“Ooooh, you sure you don’t want to tap that?” Remy wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Cass threw a crumpled up piece of paper at him as he laughed, “This is what I get for trying to expand your social circle!”

“Give up, babe, I’m a lone wolf,” He grinned. Cass shook her head in fond exasperation as they both returned to their work. Tapping on his phone, Remy entered Toby’s information into his calendar to mark his appoint.

After putting his phone in his pocket, October didn’t even cross his mind.

[adreamoverlife]

To see if I could.

((So the whole story basically what if Google had a obedience program that was almost like a drug? Like every time google completes a task, his system is flooded with a weird happiness chemical? This was supposed to make Google dependent on humans but eventually after nearly shutting down the program was disabled and Google learned to live without it? And Dark used the Host to find this out? And then Dark reactivated it?))

The library was without a doubt his favorite place in the building.

The sleek exterior of the office was simply a front for the many mix-matched floors and residents of the building. The contrasting floors were a headache to get through on a good day and there were days where the thought of going from the bright pink studio of Wilfords to the simplistic and grim office of Darkiplier was unbearable to the eyes. Even his own offices' antiseptic smell sometimes was too much for him. The messy array of syringes and pill bottles was stressful at most, and unbearable at worst. The Host had told him many times that he would be willing to help him organize it, but he had always declined. Feeling much too embarrassed to say otherwise.

The Hosts library, on the other hand, was a different story. It was a certain organized chaos that the Host seemed to glide through to locate any book he was looking for. It was a maze of tall shelves that only he knew the path. Combined with the low light of the sparsely place light bulbs that hung high above, to say it was enchanting was an understatement.

The Host allowed him to borrow books. a privilege no other ego had earned, and Edward had done everything he could to prove himself worthy of his trust. So when it finally came time to return the book, Edward stepped into the elevator and hit the button for Hosts level.

Edward fidgeted with the book, a small smile beginning to grace his face. He thought about what he would say the other ego. What could he say in order to keep up the conversation? The elevator dinged and he quickly looked up as the doors opened.

"Host?" He called out as stepped through the threshold into the darkened library. A chill ran down his spine, the silence hung heavy in the air. There were no pages turning, no hum of his recording equipment or soft words. The Host could've been asleep, but if he was he would have locked up the library. Host never liked people to wander in when he was away or otherwise unaware.

"Host? Are you alright?" He called again, walking into the near darkness. Footsteps echoed like thunder as he squinted his eyes in order to see. Trying to call the Hosts name again, he was left with no response. There was only one way to go from here, and that the Hosts Desk. Edward paused, feeling ashamed at his stupidity and pulled out his phone, turning on the flashlight. Even with the beam of light, he still managed to bump into two shelves before he reached the center recording room.

The beam of light stuck revealed a form slumped over at the desk, The radio equipment was dark and a display of opened books littered the wooden surface like discarded wrappers. The Host was arms were folded up to rest his head on the desk. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, something was wrong, But he just couldn't place what it was.

"Host! There you are, You had me worried!" Relief flooded through Edwards' bones, making him stumbled slightly as he quickly made his way over to the Host. As he got closer, he realized what had unsettled him.

His mind stalled as his hands shot into action, grabbing the Host by his shoulders to tilt his head up, the unconscious egos arms fell limply to his sides as his head tilted to the back of the chair.

Blood. Blood was everywhere. it tripped thickly from the Hosts half-lidded eye sockets down his face in rivers, then puddled on the table, staining every page it touched. Finally, it ran down the sides of the desk and settled on the floor.

"Host?! Host, can you hear me?" Edward used one hand to grab the Hosts chin and the other to shine a light into his eye sockets. Host had no response, and under Edwards' fingertips, he couldn't feel a pulse. Looking closer at his eye sockets, the darkened bleeding tissues was strangely punctured and bloody, almost like it’d been stabbed. Mumbling curse after curse, Edward unlocked his phone and scrolled til he saw the correct number.

The phone rang as Edward quickly glanced over the rest of the Host. There didn't seem to be any other injury, other than a few rips in the front of his trench coat, there wasn't any sign of a struggle. And definitely no sign of a knife or blade. Finally, the phone stopped ringing.

"Dr. Iplier, to what do I-"

“Red? Where’s Google?”

“Blue was called to a meeting with-“

"You know what- Shut up and get to the Hosts floor. He's bleeding out and I need you to help me get him to the clinic and to stabilize him." Edward was breathing too fast to speak calmly, but Red didn't comment.

"On my way."

Red hung up.

Shaking the radio host shoulders again, the doctor took a second to glance at the desk, and in that second he stopped breathing. On one page there were diagrams of what looked like a torso, but it wasn’t human. It was metal bended and twisted to have a shape of a human with synthetic skin on top of it. Another page had binary filling the blank space with a sketch of a glowing core in the center. another page had what looked like code words and programs all hidden once hidden with the book laid out to see. Broken bloodied pencils lay rolling off to the side. The worst thing however, came from what was on top of the books.

‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry.’

‘Please I’m so sorry’

‘Darkiplier never finds out what the host has learned and forgets about everything.’

The moment of Confusion was ended by a flash of pain in his chest as Edward turned back to Host, placing a gentle hand on his cheek.

“Oh Isaac…’

The door to the library flew open.

There was nothing better than code.

Simple, effective, coherent, all the things a human mind, at best, couldn't dream to be. His entire memory and mind was build from little numbers that spun and ticked to build thoughts from the sparks of electricity in his core. Although emotions weren't programmed into his internal A.I, when he was able to complete a task correctly, a certain lightness took hold of his chest compartment and just as quickly vanished. A program booting up and then just as quickly shutting down.he told himself that this was most likely a safety feature designed to deter him from disobeying, He was strong enough now to not need the program, even though after all this time, he still had yet to delete it.

This program wouldn't have mattered if he hadn't been so careless. It hadn't even remained in his recent memory banks. And it would have stayed that way if he had just deleted the damn thing.

It was in a meeting in the grim office on the top floor.

"Hello Google, I appreciate you showing up. I know it's technically after hours but I had some concerns I needed to bring up."

"Of course, Darkiplier. Unfortunately for me, it is never truly after hours."

Dark had smiled at that, a tight one-sided smile that revealed some of his teeth.

"Ah, Yes, You are quite overworked, aren't you?"

Despite the little numbers in his head informing him of his usefulness to the head ego, and thus his safety. Something else had his attention, a cold finger of [definition matched: Dread] Dread, ran along the cables in his lower chassis.

"I am essential to this project, I am always working because that's what the project requires. You need me."

"I do. but unfortunately, Google, What you've been giving me isn't what the project requires. And I’ve been informed that there’s a way to fix that.”

At this, Dark had gotten up, suave and smooth, the strange creaking sounds of overworked bones filled with dust echoed fainty like a faraway gunshot and black eyes filled Googles vision. Dark had gotten far too close far too quick, leaving the android to jerk roughly back as his mind spun round like a dreidel.

"You know Google, such a complex machine such as yourself, surely the engineers installed some sort of obedience program."

The honeyed words fazed through his synthetic skin and dripped into his wires and circuits like cold ink that buzzed like insects.

"I-I-"

Opening his mouth, the buzzing creatures filled his throat, rattling his voice box as Blue choked, errors flooding his system.

"Oh, don't worry Google. The Host already told me allllll about it~"

His ventilation system was seized by a shutter, Host? What had happened to-he opened his eyes to a carousel of blue and black, spinning like the numbers in his head. a piercing sound silenced the ticking in his head, and Google fell into a void. Never hitting the ground.

"Let's see what we can make of you."

Dark supposed his office wasn't the friendliest of places. And given his auras habit of lashing out, It certainly wasn't the place for arguments. Which was funny, Dark supposed, because this is where they usually happened.

Darks hands danced across the piano, humming along to the delicate sound, coolant and oil smearing against the keys from his fingers.

The doors slammed open, the sound echoing throughout the room. In the doorway stood a disheveled Dr. Iplier with rage radiating off of his skin so much it was almost tangible. His bright eyes found the head ego and he growled.

"What. The fuck. Did you do." The gritted words were almost amusing. and Dark didn't have to turn away from the piano to know that blood was dripping from the doctors' coat to the floor.

"So you found him in time, What a pity. The Host really had my hopes this time." The ringing began to get louder as if trying to drown the Edward out, but not this time, not when Dark had gone this far.

"What the fuck did you do to him? He almost died!"

"I'm well aware doctor-"

"Did you possess him? Hm? Mess with his visions? Tell me you fucking asshole what you did to him-" Edwards' voice had gotten louder, closer and angrier.

"I haven't touched him-"

"Like hell, you didn't!" He must have been a couple feet behind him now, and a twitch of annoyance ran through the dark ego.

"You've seen the damage, everything he did was self-inflicted. Perhaps he wanted to die." It wasn't entirely false, and moreover, it shocked the other into silence. For a moment, Dark thought he would turn around and storm out, but that moment was shattered Edward quickly took a breath and shouted.

"Fuck you! You made him do it!" The twitch of annoyance turned to calm. The Doctor had laid out his own wound and all Dark had to do was rub salt in it.

"The only thing I did was talk." He didn't even turn around. It was the truth. The simple honest truth. something he rarely gave. It was worth it when he heard Dr. Iplier choke. He could imagine his eyes going wide and his jaw slack.

"...Y-You talked him into killing himself?"

"All I did was talk."

"Why?" Dark smiles, a thin lifeless smile. His tilts his head to side glance at the stunned Doctor.

"...To see if I could.”

Pride filled his husk of a body, and he cracked his neck feeling satisfied as a echo of a uncomfortable feeling snapped into nothing.

“Where’s Google?”

As if on cue, the doctors phone rang. Dark couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped.

“Why don’t you run along now? I’m sure Google will be so happy to answer your questions.”

Two things happened with the next moment. One, With a crash, his desk lamp shattered next to his head. Two, footsteps stomped towards the door and slammed it shut.

[tuxiedjabberwock]

Because he’s not Cat Noir without “cat,” yeah? - MLB one-shot

Category: Cartoons » Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Cat Noir

Author: Sqydd

Language: English, Rating: Rated: K

Genre: Romance/Humor

Published: 05-29-18, Updated: 05-29-18

Chapters: 1, Words: 1,276

Or the story where Plagg's kitty tendencies humorously pass onto Adrien.

By their first year of university, Marinette and Adrien had officially become a "couple." (Because, according to Alya and their other comedian friends, they weren't a "couple" until the official question was popped, and that can of worms returned Marinette to the stuttering, clumsy mess she was in their 4ème days.) Even though Marinette was in a simple fashion school and Adrien's grades and lineage led him to a grande école business school, they still made time to be together at least twice a week. Well, as Marinette and Adrien, anyway. Akuma battles, while of course unwanted, had a lull afterwards when Ladybug and Cat Noir could talk until thoughts of their studies pulled them back home. The system worked fine, except Marinette was noticing cogs in their machines. Or…hairballs in their throat would be more appropriate.

"Okay, kitty, I have some sketches due for an early morning class, so let's call it a—" Ladybug, having leapt onto the adjoining roof where Cat Noir last described his location, found her partner/boyfriend sitting on the roof's railing and quite calmly combing his messy hair with the back of his hand, licking the leather fabric occasionally. She tried and failed to suppress a wide grin at the sight, knotting her yoyo around her waist and coming up behind him. "Grooming yourself for a girl?" she asked.

"Ladybug!" He started at the sound of her voice, spinning around quickly enough to lose his balance. She caught his arm and pulled him back, and as soon as he regained his footing, his cool was back. "Not that I needed it or anything, but I like to look good for my lady." She giggled softly.

"First purring, now this? What else do I have to expect?" He grimaced to himself and muttered something about Plagg under his breath.

"Hopefully, this is the last of it."

Maybe because he was the embodiment of bad luck, but it wasn't the last of it. More often after that, Ladybug caught him grooming, sometimes halting in the middle of a run to flop onto his back, and once during an akuma battle, he was drawn by a reflection created by a passing car. She lost him for a while until she stopped the villain (who thankfully didn't do much more than create soap suds—she wish she would've known the person personally to hear the funny story behind that) and then found Cat Noir sitting in an alley looking a bit dazed.

"I mean, it's not as if you get ladybug tendencies," Adrien pouted as they sat in Marinette's room with a shared plate of chocolate croissants. Tikki and Plagg lounged on her bed with their own plate of chocolate cookies and cheese Danishes. Marinette raised a brow with a curious smile.

"Ladybug tendencies? What exactly would those be?"

"A gross love of cookies," Plagg piped up. Adrien threw a few crumbs at him.

"You're one to talk! I swear you'd marry that camembert of yours if you had the chance."

"If only I did," he said with a wistful sigh. Tikki rolled her eyes and floated up to Adrien's shoulder.

"Our essences go into the Miraculous to give them power," she explained. "They only require our power to function, so the ones of us with self-control only allow them our power. It looks like some of Plagg's tendencies are bleeding through yours, Adrien."

"Okay, so. What you're saying is, it's all Plagg's fault." Adrien stared down Plagg, who was completely unrepentant as he pawed at his tail dangling above him.

"Plagg! Aren't you supposed to say two words?" Tikki was over in a flash, yanking his tail hard enough to earn a disgruntled groan from him.

"Ease up!" he complained, taking his tail from her grip. He reached for his Danishes, found they were finished, and quick as lightning was at Marinette's side, nuzzling her cheek. "Please, Princess, can I get more of your divine Danishes?" Marinette couldn't say no to his big kitty eyes and took him in her hands, scratching behind his ear with a finger.

"He never sucks up to me like that," Adrien muttered. Plagg's ear twitched and he immediately waved Adrien off.

"If you could make pastries like the princess, I would." He rolled over to give Marinette a better angle, purring all the while, and Adrien's pout deepened as he shoved a whole croissant in his mouth.

Then again, she couldn't make a huge deal out of his feline habits. One day, while Ladybug and Cat Noir were answering a few newspersons' questions, the latter doing so in his usual theatrics/bad puns combo, a particularly troublesome one came up:

"So, Ladybug, Cat Noir, we know you're only superheroes part of the day," a young and (Ladybug had to admit) not-so-bad-looking journalist, whose nametag read F. Bourbonnais, began, although his focus was majorly on Ladybug and the high-wattage smile he was sending her way. "You have normal, everyday lives, perhaps with a significant other?"

She glanced at Cat Noir from the corner of her eye with a slight smirk on her face, then responded, "I care for all Parisians equally."

"For a beautiful young lady such as yourself, there must be someone else," he pressed. "Or, perhaps, you're still looking for the right one…?" He took a subtle step towards her that she didn't notice.

"Sorry to disappoint," she smiled, raising her hand against the flurry of ensuing camera flashes. She was a little distracted, and so the sudden grip around her shoulders and knees shocked her until she was watching the crowd of reporters fall away while she was rising into the air. "Cat Noir! What are you doing?"

He didn't speak until his baton carried them to a tall rooftop. He dropped her then, and just as she was about to demand an answer again, his arms went around her, pinning her against his body. She felt more than heard his chest vibrate from a low growl in the back of his throat. He nuzzled his face into her hair, mussing it slightly, and she raised her hands to his shoulders.

"Were you jealous?" she asked, but he still didn't respond. "Hey, Cat Noir—"

His hands moved from her back to trace up and down her figure, and with a crimson blush blooming under her mask, Ladybug shoved him away hard. He landed on his butt with a surprised yowl, then blinked at her a few times. "What are y—did I just—" He shook his head hard and said with no small amount of anger and embarrassment, "Plagg, detransform!"

"What's the problem now?" Plagg complained, attempting to dive in Adrien's shirt for his camembert when Adrien caught him in his fist. He sighed and rolled his big green eyes. "You were marking her with your scent, I guess because you didn't like that reporter guy eyeballing her." Adrien's cheeks turned as red as Ladybug's suit. He released Plagg and turned away, folding his arms.

"W-Well…can you blame me, my lady?"

She laughed as she knelt in front of him. Then, with a coy smile, "You're such a spoiled kitty." He turned back to her with a smirk that looked uncanny on Adrien Agreste's face.

"I was purr-fectly within my rights, then." Ladybug groaned and hit his shoulder lightly, earning the joyful laugh that she'd come to love from him. He snatched her hand and pressed a kiss to her scarlet knuckles, then leaned in close to kiss her cheek. Meanwhile, Plagg gagged as they dissolved into a show of affection. All the camembert in the world wasn't worth seeing those lovebirds being gross.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hyrule perks up at this. "I can explain sinus rhythm!"

"It has nothing to do with your ears and nose and the like, though it's funny that it is the same word. To explain normal sinus rhythm and rhythms in general, I have to explain heart anatomy real quick, okay?"

"Okay, sorry for the crappy little sketch," Hyrule starts with a sheepish laugh. "But if you were to cut into your heart, this is what it would look like. You've got some major blood vessels that I drew (I couldn't draw them all because it would get too messy). You've got four chambers in your heart. The top ones receive blood, and are called an atrium, individually, or atria for plural."

"Wait, wait, wait," Wind interrupts. "You got your directions wrong."

Hyrule blink, confused. "Wait, what?"

Sky points to the drawing. "You put right on the left side and left on the right side. The circled letters."

"That's normal," Legend answers for his friend. "All medical stuff is drawn/shown from what we call an anatomical position. I.e. if you're looking at the patient, it's the patient's left and right that we're going by, not our own. If you're staring at me and I'm waving my left arm saying it hurts, you wouldn't say it's my right arm that's hurting just because it's on the right side from your point of view."

"Ah, that makes sense. Sorry, Roolie, carry on!"

Hyrule nodded with a smile. "So the top chambers receive blood from a major vein. The bottom chambers, called ventricles, pump it out through an artery. Blood flows from the right side of the heart to the left side. Enters the heart from the superior and inferior vena cava, which are major veins that carry the entire blood supply of the body returning to the heart for oxygen. The vena cava dump blood into the right atrium, which pushes it into the right ventricle. The right ventricle pushes the blood out into the lungs. The blood comes back from the lungs to the left atrium, which receives it and pumps it into the left ventricle, which pumps out to the body through the aorta."

"Okay! That's basic, basic anatomy. Now we're going to add the electrical system that makes the heart tick! In the right atrium are two electrical nodes that create signals and send them throughout the heart. The sinoatrial node, or the SA node, is the big guy in charge. He fires the first signal, and it goes through both atrial, making them pump, before activating the atrioventricular (AV) node, which sends the signal to the ventricles. Your heart has to beat with atria first, then ventricles."

"Why does it have to do atria and then ventricles?" Sky asks.

"Your atria give the ventricles the blood they need to pump out of the heart," Warriors explains. "If the ventricles beat before the atria, it's like trying to squeeze a tube of toothpaste that has little toothpaste in it. It takes way more effort to get anything out and it's minimal output. The atria have to beat first for the best outcome."

"So, the SA node tells the atria to beat, and the AV node tells the ventricles to beat." Hyrule continues. "Your ventricles are bigger, so they need a longer electrical highway to reach everything, which is called the Bundle of His. This bundle of nerve pathways travels down the heart to reach all of the ventricles. These highways end at Purkinje fibers."

"So the word sinus...?"

"Comes from sinoatrial node!" Hyrule finishes with a smile. "A normal sinus rhythm is one where the normal electrical pathway is taken because it started at the SA node."

"To answer your other questions," Legend pipes up. "Epinephrine is a natural hormone in your body, and the lay term is adrenaline. So yes, they're one and the same. We give it in codes as a means of trying to jump start your hear back into action. Adenosine is an anti-arrhythmic, yes. As for brady arrhythmias--"

"Maybe we should just let all of this info dumping sink in first," Warriors offers with a smile.

Legend nods. "Fair. Do you have any questions on this so far?"

(siddles up to Legend all definitely politely and definitely not in a im-gonna-get-in-your-business way totally i pinkie promise) sooooooooooooooooooooooooo whatcha studyin

Legend, raising an eyebrow in your direction, pulling his textbook closer: Advanced cardiac life support.

[shaizstern]

Article from NYT: Your Brain Is Not for Thinking

In stressful times, this surprising lesson from neuroscience may help to lessen your anxieties.

Image: Claire Merchlinsky

By Lisa Feldman Barrett

Dr. Barrett is a psychologist and neuroscientist.

Nov. 23, 2020

Five hundred million years ago, a tiny sea creature changed the course of history: It became the first predator. It somehow sensed the presence of another creature nearby, propelled or wiggled its way over, and deliberately ate it.

This new activity of hunting started an evolutionary arms race. Over millions of years, both predators and prey evolved more complex bodies that could sense and move more effectively to catch or elude other creatures.

Eventually, some creatures evolved a command center to run those complex bodies. We call it a brain.

This story of how brains evolved, while admittedly just a sketch, draws attention to a key insight about human beings that is too often overlooked. Your brain’s most important job isn’t thinking; it’s running the systems of your body to keep you alive and well. According to recent findings in neuroscience, even when your brain does produce conscious thoughts and feelings, they are more in service to the needs of managing your body than you realize.

And in stressful times like right now, this curious perspective on your mental life may actually help to lessen your anxieties.

Much of your brain’s activity happens outside your awareness. In every moment, your brain must figure out your body’s needs for the next moment and execute a plan to fill those needs in advance. For example, each morning as you wake, your brain anticipates the energy you’ll need to drag your sorry body out of bed and start your day. It proactively floods your bloodstream with the hormone cortisol, which helps make glucose available for quick energy.

Your brain runs your body using something like a budget. A financial budget tracks money as it’s earned and spent. The budget for your body tracks resources like water, salt and glucose as you gain and lose them. Each action that spends resources, such as standing up, running, and learning, is like a withdrawal from your account. Actions that replenish your resources, such as eating and sleeping, are like deposits.

The scientific name for body budgeting is allostasis. It means automatically predicting and preparing to meet the body’s needs before they arise. Consider what happens when you’re thirsty and drink a glass of water. The water takes about 20 minutes to reach your bloodstream, but you feel less thirsty within mere seconds. What relieves your thirst so quickly? Your brain does. It has learned from past experience that water is a deposit to your body budget that will hydrate you, so your brain quenches your thirst long before the water has any direct effect on your blood.

This budgetary account of how the brain works may seem plausible when it comes to your bodily functions. It may seem less natural to view your mental life as a series of deposits and withdrawals. But your own experience is rarely a guide to your brain’s inner workings. Every thought you have, every feeling of happiness or anger or awe you experience, every kindness you extend and every insult you bear or sling is part of your brain’s calculations as it anticipates and budgets your metabolic needs.

This view of the brain has many implications for understanding human beings. So often, for example, we conceive of ourselves in mental terms, separate from the physical. A bad stomach ache that follows an indulgent meal may send us to the gastroenterologist, but if we experience that same ache during a messy divorce, we may head to a psychotherapist instead. At the gastroenterologist’s office, we experience our discomfort as an underlying physical problem; at the therapist’s office, we experience the same discomfort as anxiety — a psychological disturbance, physically manifested.

In body-budgeting terms, however, this distinction between mental and physical is not meaningful. Anxiety does not cause stomach aches; rather, feelings of anxiety and stomach aches are both ways that human brains make sense of physical discomfort. There is no such thing as a purely mental cause, because every mental experience has roots in the physical budgeting of your body. This is one reason physical actions like taking a deep breath, or getting more sleep, can be surprisingly helpful in addressing problems we traditionally view as psychological.

We’re all living in challenging times, and we’re all at high risk for disrupted body budgets. If you feel weary from the pandemic and you’re battling a lack of motivation, consider your situation from a body-budgeting perspective. Your burden may feel lighter if you understand your discomfort as something physical. When an unpleasant thought pops into your head, like “I can’t take this craziness anymore,” ask yourself body-budgeting questions. “Did I get enough sleep last night? Am I dehydrated? Should I take a walk? Call a friend? Because I could use a deposit or two in my body budget.”

This is not a semantic game. It’s about making new meaning from your physical sensations to guide your actions.

I’m not saying you can snap your fingers and dissolve deep misery, or sweep away depression with a change of perspective. I’m suggesting that it’s possible to acknowledge what your brain is actually doing and take some comfort from it. Your brain is not for thinking. Everything that it conjures, from thoughts to emotions to dreams, is in the service of body budgeting. This perspective, adopted judiciously, can be a source of resilience in challenging times.

Original Article: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/11/23/opinion/brain-neuroscience-stress.html