brain tickles

Scientists have pinpointed the ticklish bit of a rat’s brain.

The results, published in the journal Science, are another step toward understanding the origins of ticklishness, and its purpose in social animals.

Although virtually every human being on the planet has been tickled, scientists really don’t understand why people are ticklish. The idea that a certain kind of touching could easily lead to laughter is confusing to a neuroscientist, says Shimpei Ishiyama, a postdoctoral research fellow at the Bernstein Center for Computational Neuroscience in Berlin, Germany.

“Just a physical touch inducing such an emotional output — this is very mysterious,” Ishiyama says. “This is weird.”

To try and get a handle on how tickling works, Ishiyama studied rats, who seem to enjoy being tickled, according to previous research. He inserted electrodes into the rats’ brains, in a region called their somatosensory cortex.

Brain Scientists Trace Rat Ticklishness To Play Behavior

Photo: Shimpei Ishiyama and Michael Brecht/Science

I’m going to make it my mission to write the single worst novella in history:

“she giggled a giggle that is the kind of giggle you giggle when you are wondering why your father never loved you.”

“he tickled her delicate axe wound with his prehensile finger forks and he stuck his prehensile wet facefinger so far up her indescribable mash-hole he could almost taste her brain stem”

“He was bleeding profusely out of his spleen, but not in a good way”

“He had a personality like a mash up between the shamwow guy and an anal hemorrhage”


NEW VIDEO! Why Are We Ticklish? 

Our reaction to be tickled may be nature’s way of encouraging self defence training from an early age. 💪

that moment when you finally gather up the courage to give your best friend the kiss of a lifetime on new years and he’s giggling the whole time because the sparks are tickling his mouth and intoxication is tickling his brain 

Feyre’s Prescience

Something that has been tickling my brain a bit, is there seems that Feyre has a bit of foresight and I think this will be a big part in ACOMAF3. I picked up a feeling here and there while re-reading ACOTAR. Two so far have really stuck out and I am sure more will be identified as I reread ACOMAF.

Feyre first learns of the Attor, but she is under a bit of glamour and the Attor was invisible to her.

“I didn’t go outside the following day, and when I sat down to paint, what emerged on my canvas was a tall, skeletally thin grey creature with bat ears and giant membranous wings. Its snout was open in a roar, revealing row after row of fangs as it leaped into flight.” –ACOTAR pg 182.

How? How did she paint the Attor to such detail? Is this related to Nesta’s ability to avoid glamour?

Foresight can also have physical indicators. When Feyre is studying the Spring Courts map of Prythian, she has a physical reaction to the Night Court. I may be stretching this one.

“And above that, perched in a frozen mountainous spread of darkness and stars, sprawling, massive territory of the Night Court.

There were things in the shadows between those mountains – little eyes, gleaming teeth. A land of lethal beauty. The hair on my arms rose.” –ACOTAR pg 116.

Originally I thought the hair on her arm rose because of the mating bond, but I think there is something in those mountains. Something we have yet to see (Sleeping Giants).

Then we have Feyre in her cell, when she was breaking, hearing music, she envisioned the moonstone palace. In ACOMAF, Rhys admitted he never sent those images to her. How did she envision I place she had never seen?  

Foreshadowing (Easter Eggs):

Feyre’s Prescience
Sleeping Giants
The Story of Prythian
Amren and the King of Hybern
The Bonds that Haunt Us
Creeping Like Frost

As promised @propshophannah I have begun posting my little Easter eggs and theories. I have more, I just need to research them to ensure I did not imagine the easter egg. 


So many books as old as time,
and doors that move for brilliant minds–
where reason never needs a rime
and fellowship the smart bird finds.

Where words, they shine on parchment new
and wisdom passed like a bright fire.
Words writ in ink of every hue.
Behold our wit, raven’s desire.

Where riddles tickle eager brains
and starry skies above us glow.
We are the first to feel the rains–
and first to see the falling snow.

So come and sit and read a spell–
by the raven’s wit, all is well.

– S. E. De Haven (SnuffyArt)

I wrote a poem for each of the four houses: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Gryffindor.

What did you think?

gigglepudge  asked:

What about YOUR top five favorite techniques~?

Excuse u who gave you the right /)///////////////(\

Okay…well…hmmmm…this is so embarrassing im flipping deleting oh dear

1. Being snuggled and tickled. Just…flipping snuggle me and you’ve probably already melted me in a thousand ways. Snuggle me from behind and nuzzle my neck while lightly spidering at my sides. Or lay down on top of me and nuzzle my tummy. Or touch our foreheads together and tickle my tummy and ribs and pretend to get offended when I squirm. OR ANY OTHER VARIATION. I can’t even deny how much I love the thought of being held close and tickled alright, it’s pathetic but it’s true asdlfkjaskdfalskjfdasdfj /)////////////////(\

2. Being pounced on and tickled after pestering/annoying/etc. the ‘ler. Listen buddy pal I tell so many puns to annoy people in desperate hopes it will happen but ALAS. Lots of teasy finger-waggling and “Oh, I’m sorry, does that tiiickle? Well, you’ve been asking for it all day! How about I make it tickle more?” BONUS POUNCE IF THE ‘LER GROWLS WHEN THEY POUNCE

3. Being tickled as a distraction/to pull me away from work. I tend to work/study/stress myself into literal exhaustion and a terrible mood so being forced to break that cycle is peculiarly appealing. I’m all about the surprise of fingers digging into a spot while a teasing voice encourages relaxation…or else, I’ll just be forced to relax.

4. SIMILARLY, being tickled to draw my attention away from a task like video games, singing, or playing an instrument, and being told that I’d better keep my reactions at a minimum, or it’s gonna get worse. All those maddeningly light sensations to fight against…asdfjkasdfkj I’m scrunching up just thinking about it.

5. Being tickled while the ‘ler pretends to have no idea what they’re doing while simultaneously wrecking me. The classic, “Why are you laughing? What’s so funny?”, but man, as cliche as it might be, it’s gOOD. “What’s that? It tickles? Oh! Maybe this will be better then!” before switching to a wORSE technique like raspberries/nibbles/a tool/whatever. OR an adorably oblivious ‘ler who genuinely doesn’t know what tickling is and is then determined to find out just how much laughter they can get from this newfound activity.

It was actually hard to choose…I’m starting to realize just how many scenarios my tickle-trash brain has latched onto 0////////0

Please stay with me tonight (Draco x Reader)

You can read Part 2 here!

It was two in the morning when you finally decided that you crawl out from your bed after hours and hours suffering. You went to bed early because you were tired, but when your soul is exhausted it’s not something that sleep is going to fix. You take on a big hoodie and tiptoed out from your dorm, went down the common room to the dungeon’s corridor. It was a silent but snowy night outside, so when you were on the third floor you sit up on a window sill and started staring the landscape.

Sixth year at Hogwarts, but something has always tickled your brain. You loved here, you had a lot of friends - even from other houses. And yes, it was a big deal, because most of the students was prejudiced towards the Slytherins. You hate that, because you loved your house. There were mean people in there, yes, but you also got some really good friends, even your bests. Despite of this, you decided that you’ll show that you’re not what everybody thinks of Slytherins. You were kind with others, helpful, and sometimes saved those innocent first years from your abusive housemates. Firstly they didn’t approve that much, but your tounge was sharp and your mind was quick, so after a bit time everybody decided that it’s better if they’re not messing with you. You didn’t like to hurt other people’s feelings, but your ego never lets to shut your mouth if somebody started picking on you.

As a pureblooded Slytherin, your aunt was very proud of you, although you never really cared about blood status. You tired to be kind with everyone. Like a Hufflepuff. Sometimes you were brave like a Gryffindor, you studied nearly as much as a Ravenclaw, and you were proud and ambitious like a Slytherin. And because of this, you felt you don’t fit in anywhere.

You heard footsteps in the distance, so you placed your hand in your wand, just in case.
The shape came closer, and you saw the boy’s pale face. The face that look much paler on the snowy night’s light, the face that could look even scary if his lips didn’t smirk at you when the blue-grey eyes recognised you. The face that you loved and hated to see at the same time. 

„What are you doing here, darling? It’s almos three in the morning.” - Draco asked, smirk still on his face, but also looked concerned.

„I could ask the same for you.”

„You see, I’m a prefect, so I have to. In the other hand, you should be on your bed. I should punish you…” - he winked at you, smiling. Always the jokes. You didn’t answer, you wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Especially not with your crush. Because who else could be your crush than the boy who think nobody is good enough for him? The truth is, you were hopelessly in love with him. You always had a little crush on him since your first years, but in the last two years it’s just grew bigger. It started when he accidentally caught you crying; you didn’t tell him why and he didn’t forced you, but he comforted you. From that day, you had a lot of deep conversations and he opened up to you completely. You could finally see that he has a soft side and how much he deserve to be loved. Despite of this you didn’t tell him you felt in love with him. He was too important to you now, and you didn’t want to scare him or ruin your friendship.

„Are you okay?” - he continued after you turned your head from him. You were just about to cry, and you were sure that if he didn’t stop to push you, you’ll cry. He stepped closer to you and gently put his hand on your back - it was enough you to shiver. Even if he was your best friend, he almost never touched you or hugged you in front people; he didn’t like the idea that others may accidentally realize that he has a soft side and his heart is not made from ice and stones.

„I’m okay, Draco, just coudn’t sleep. That potion test coming soon and you know, I’m overstressed and all, so I’m just came here.” - his face expression told that he didn’t believe what you said. You didn’t even believed what you said. 

„Stop it, Y/L/N. What’s happened? Is somebody hurt you?”

What’s wrong? Well, everything.

 „No, of course not. I rather going to sleep. Night!” - you climbed down from the window sill and were about to go, but Draco caught your wrist, a bit too hard, and pulled you closer to himself. He slowly make one more step closer to you and released your wrist, but a moment later his hand was on your cheek. Now you were really close to crying.

 „Sweetheart, even if you’re a good liar, I know you too well”. - Not well enough, because in that case you should know that I’m crazy for you. „So, please tell me, who hurt you?”

 „Nobody, really.” – You brushed away his hand from your face. – „Just…” - you started and looked up him in the eye, in his beautiful, grey eyes that looked like a morning sky after a big storm. His face was serious, he really cared about what you wanted to say, and it was enough for you to stop talking and hug him. He was speechless, and you hugged him so hard like you were afraid that if you don’t, you will falling.

 „Y/N…” - he wishpered, very quiet, while he was place one of his hands on your waist, and the other on your head, gently stroke your hair. „Talk to me, darling. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 The fact that he is holding you in his arms, the feeling of his touch and his gentle words melted you; you didn’t want to cry anymore, you just wanted to be in his arms.

 „I’m tired, Draco. Everybody think that I’m so pleased with my perfect life, but I’m not. And I miss you, I hardly see you nowadays. Please don’t leave me you too.” – your voice was low, and a memory of your dead family makes the tears fall out from your eyes, down on your cheek. Draco gently pushed you away with a confused look.

 „What do you mean? „Me too”?”

 You never talked about your parents to your friends. Not even with him. Now you felt you should.

 „My family…” Deep breath. „My father was an auror. He was very obsessed with capture every Death Eaters. He was way too much reckless.” – Tears falling down on your cheek, but you stayed calm. The pale boy cup your face one of his hands and wiped of your tears.

„Two years ago dark wizards killed them along with my nine year old brother.”

 There was a deep silence, and you was about to say something, when he asked you.

 „Why didn’t you tell me? Or anyone?”

 „I don’t wanted you or anyone else to feel sorry for me!” – you cried. – „I didn’t need that. I only need that you to stay close to me!” – your voice was desperate and tearful. You wonder when was the last time when anybody see you in this condition; probably sometime in your childhood.

 „Listen, love.” – his stormy eyes looking at yours, and maybe if yours wouldn’t have been tearful, you’d saw that his was full of tears too. – „I will never ever let you go. I’ll never leave you alone, you hear me? If you need me, come to me. I won’t push you ever again, love.” – he pulled you closer, kissed you on your forehead, and you couldn’t say a word anymore, just sobbing in silence. His calm voice and the way that he called you love made you relaxed. He could always find a way to comfort you.

He accompanied you back to the Slytherin common room. You sat down on a couch, pointed on a fireplace with your wand while you murmured „incdendio”. The fire warmed you up immediately. Draco was still holding your hand, since you refused to let him go even for a moment in the hallways, but now he pulled away.

„Please stay with me tonight.” – you said quickly with a trembling voice. Firstly he stared at you like he doesn’t want to, but then he smiled at you, picked up a blanket from the couch, and sat back down next to you. You pulled up your legs on the couch and placed your head on Draco’s shoulder while he embraced you and slowly stroked your arm.

„Don’t keep secrets from me, Y/N. I want to help you, and it hurts if I see you like this way. I’m so sorry that happened to you, I couldn’t even imagine… but you really shouldn’t suppress your feelings.” – he whispered, his head againts yours.

„Funny that you’re saying that, Mr. Always Express My Feelings.” You could sense that he was smiling even if you didn’t saw his face.

„Yes, very funny. Now promise me that you’ll always talk to me if something or someone hurt you.”

„Okay. I promise.”

You hated to lie to him, but no way you’ll tell you’re in love with him. There were silence after that and both of you fell asleep.

What you didn’t know is he had a very same problem with his feelings about you.


Mulder and Scully Find the Portal to Foon

I have this headcanon that in season 11 of the X Files Mulder stumbles upon the podcast Hello From the Magic Tavern and really believes that he can get through the portal to Foon.

He suddenly is not so worried about the whole government alien conspiracy because he just found out that multiple dimensions exist! Aliens in our dimension are small (spiced) potatoes.

While Scully is busy trying to save our world from the invasion, Mulder is constantly writing emails to Chunt, Arnie, and Usidore while stationed outside the Burger King at the corner of Irving Park and Clark in Chicago.

Draconic Theory

Disclaimer: These are just a few theories of mine about dragon spirits and not necessarily meant to be stated as fact.  You are welcome to your own theories or even to discuss yours with me.  I like hearing other people’s perspectives.

Cultures through out the world have myths of dragons, old stories and pictures of these powerful creatures.  Like Quetzalcoatl, an Aztec god of the wind who resembles a flying snake.  Or the Eastern dragons who also resemble flying serpents and seemingly move through magic. Or the Lindworm from Germanic lore that can have two or no legs and a pair of wings.  These are just a few examples.

Collective unconscious theory aside, why is it that these cultures have a similar depiction of dragon like creatures?  People tend to make similar myths and depictions of a common phenomenon that they are observing.  Do I think that real, live dragons roamed this earth?  Not necessarily.  But, I do believe in common observation of dragon spirits.  There are people now, including myself, who have encountered dragon spirits.  Spirit encounters and work is not a new concept by any means.  It is even possible that in older times, spirit work and belief in spirits was more common place.  There may be works published about that, so please excuse my ignorance if there is.

With this in mind, I propose that this common phenomenon that I have mentioned is of interaction with dragon spirits.

But this leads me to my next theory.  Spirits, as a whole, tend to be fluid in nature.  Or at least, that has been my experience.  My theory is not one that I necessarily unwaveringly believe but it is something I consider a possibility.  Since spirits are fluid in nature, dragon spirits may simply be spirits who have assumed that form.  This could be because they strongly identify with dragons or that they think they will be better received in that form.  

Now this is where it gets a bit tricky.  At some point in time, dragon spirits and dragons as a whole, would have been a new concept to people.  So where did they come from?  Even if it comes down to spirits assuming that form, it would have meant that there was no previous knowledge about them at some point.  It is possible that dragon spirits are from another plane of existence.  It is also possible that some spirits created their own form, made something new and it steadily grew from there.  Or it could be that dragon spirits from another plane revealed themselves and then shortly after other spirits started to assume that form.  

These are theories of course and with this line of work it’s hard to prove anything with absolute knowledge, especially with people who may not be legitimate or are cons.  But these are possibilities that I consider in my craft and I extend it to others to consider if they are curious.  These, are by no means to be considered concrete facts. But I hope these tickle your brain and curiosity!

Safe Travels



 Part 1

I started a new mini comic because of jimsdeadbones who is no help to me finding inner peace and had encouraged my crazy muse today. Spent a good 7 hours on this. Ghoul!Ford is based on cirilee’s AU (check out her adorable Fiddauthor comic and art!). Werewolf!Stan in this AU was because of my hyperctive muse today. 

Ok, it was just me musing about doodling Vampire!Stan or Werewolf!Stan (as usual blame it on my crazy needy muses) but then Jim and snakefish33 threw in some stuff that tickled my brain and SHABAM! This comic was born! Dunno how long it’ll be. This baby was an expected comic…

anonymous asked:

What if like one day cas was just sitting there, aching to be tickled and like dean could tell by cas's body language so he just kinda pounces on cas and teases him about it before and while he tickles the poor fallen angel into insanity

I took this into the artist/chef college AU because those dorks like it and know it. (Words: 950)


Dean barely kept himself from rolling his eyes as Cas yawned at the other end of the couch, a long, pronounced stre-e-etch accompanying it for the third time in less than ten minutes. It made his ribs protrude invitingly, which Cas knew, and Dean knew that Cas knew, and Cas knew that Dean knew that he knew, and all of this added up to Dean wanting to let Cas stew for a while, just to see how far he’d go. The television rambled on, appearing to keep both students’ focus, while in reality providing nothing but background noise.

A moment later, there was a sharp pressure at the side of Dean’s thigh. Cas was flexing his feet, pointing and stretching them under the guise of rolling his ankles, jamming his bare toes into Dean’s leg in the process. Dean glanced down for a few seconds to watch Cas’ toes scrunch and wriggle, putting on a tempting dance for his fingertips. Or maybe his tongue. No, shut up, Cas got to stew. For a good long while. No matter how enticingly sensitive those toes were known to be.

Yawn, stretch again. Cas’ arms stayed up over his head this time as he slipped down to lie more horizontally. His knees popped up to accommodate the position, and the one tipped outward in a lazy sprawl. Dean refused to look at the delectable length of inner thigh exposed by that move. Cas’ skin had to be crawling with want by now. Dean chewed his lip to repress a smirk, and maybe also to remind his hand not to go wandering. He was not going to be played into this.

Keep reading

Tickling engages all the senses designed to keep us alive, toying with the signals that warn us when death is approaching, a game we play with evolution. When you’re being tickled, your brain is being tricked into expecting a sabre tooth tiger attack that never comes. That’s why it’s teeth-baring, toe-curling, fist-clenching agony, and for a lucky few of us, an exhilarating thrill like no other.