#parietal

[felpsederation]

There is a capybara in his bathroom.

A big one. Has “stout” been used to describe capybaras, yet? It comes up to about hip-height— really, it’s like a chunkier miniature horse. It wears a jaunty purple wizard’s hat.

A helpful name tag designates this capybara as one Mr. Mustard. Felps lets the tag drop from his fingers, reaches up to start gently scratching at its cheek.

“Are you lost, bro?” asks Felps, as if this capybara will understand Portuguese. “Are you taking a shit in my bathroom?”

To both questions, Mr. Mustard shakes his head.

“…Well, I’m not gonna take a shit either,” he says. Mr. Mustard has no outward reaction. “I was just, uh— gonna try and fix my face, yeah?”

Mr. Mustard opens his mouth. Canned applause comes out. Yeah, alright.

“So I’m gonna do that, if that’s okay?”

Mr. Mustard gives one stoic nod.

…Yeah, alright. He’s glad somebody’s here, at least— the house being empty was giving him the damn chills. Felps straightens up, faces himself in the mirror, and:

Well, there’s no face to face, right? There’s nothing there. He has a jawline, the sides of his face, stubby flat little human ears— but there’s just black tar where the face should be. It sort of looks hollow.

Felps, experimentally, pokes a finger in. There’s a little resistance, the kind of give you’d imagine a cheek would have, and then the finger sinks further, and further, and… yeah, he gets the picture. He takes his hand out of his face. Where’s his manners.

Okay. How do faces look, again? It’s easy to get the basics down. He knows anatomy. He knows how a skull is shaped; he forms one. Bone at the high point of the cheek, about a fifth of the nose until it becomes cartilage, two pits for the eyes, the upper and lower jaw.

Well, now there’s just a skull staring at him in the mirror. That’s kind of metal. Or unsettling. He turns to look at Mr. Mustard and gets a stock gasp.

“Good?” He asks. His teeth clack together. Oh, he’s got to get used to having teeth again.

Mr. Mustard tilts his head upwards, to the side, peering at him with both of his eyes almost like the capybara’s making a joke of it. Mr. Mustard makes a canned applause sound again.

“Well, I’m not done, hold your applause,” says Felps. “I need skin. And eyes. Hey, do you remember what I looked like?”

For a second, it feels unignorably weird. He doesn’t remember what he looks like, he should, and he’s asking a fucking capybara about it. Something sticky and sad clogs his “throat”.

…Until the capybara gestures his head to the closed toilet, and Felps sees his damn face on a missing poster that’s just there now.

“Have you seen this man? Please call Cellbit.” Well, damn. He’ll have to ask Cellbit if he got any calls. It’s helpful, though— he snatches it up, props it up between the faucet of the sink and the lip of the mirror.

Felps starts scooping his face into shape.

[jvaast]

Le Signe de Pao

Scénarisé par Jean-François Chanson, 2021 Publié chez Eidola, 54 pages

Prix de la BD jeunesse d'Archéologie, Narbonne 2021.

Une aventure initiatique et scientifique, imaginée autour de signes pariétaux réels, il y a plus de 20 000 ans.

>> Retrouvez la BD sur le site de l'éditeur

[sciencesolutions]

[bizarreauhavre]

Human portrait dated 15 000 BC, Bernifal cave, France.

[vorestarr]

so i noticed when playing the epilogue that illithid Tav wants to eat brains, but the specific part of the brain they want to eat depends on the character, so i looked through the parsed dialogue and compiled all of them!

which part of each brain a mindflayer Tav would savor:

Astarion: "Astarion's sweet brain may be less wrinkled than the rest, but you hunger for its teasing cells. His parietal lobe - which controls his sense of touch - will be an aphrodisiac in your maw."

Gale*: "You would save his temporal lobe for last, if you were to eat Gale. Language. Learning. Memory. He must have quite the fine example."

Halsin: "Every time Halsin speaks of balance, your thoughts cannot behave. You only dream of what his cerebellum tastes like, when it sends the signals to his vestibular system to keep him from wobbling."

Jaheira: "Weary Jaheira. Over time, her stresses may have shrunk her hippocampus, making its taste more intense."

Karlach: "You consider Karlach's brain stem - the stalk meant to regulate her body's temperature. Will it come pre-cooked?"

Lae'zel*: "Lae'zel's motor cortex - that which controls her fine movements - will be harshly disciplined. That will make her especially chewy - just how you like a cortex to be."

Minsc: "There are cruel rumours spread, that Minsc may once have suffered injury to his brain. You could set the slander right at last - tell the world every bite was perfect."

Minthara: "With all Minthara's hate, you wonder if her cerebro-spinal fluid will be bitter to sip?"

Shadowheart: "Think of Shadowheart's cerebellum, which controls her dextrous hands. Any ritual caster must have a tightly commanded hindbrain."

Wyll: "Wyll's frontal lobe, which processes his judgement and measured words, would be a delicacy befitting his nobility." (Or "fit for a Grand Duke" if that was his outcome.)

(*You can't eat god-Gale's or astral-projection-Lae'zel's brains.)

[andhumanslovedstories]

Buzzing your head is a fun way to start worrying about the amount of divots your skull has

[sacrificialsheepskull]

You should smash your sheep skull on your head so it makes a cut in your head and rips your brain membrane. I’ve been daydreaming on different ways for you to die or at least leave and not be seen again.

-@dogskahara

that's not how anatomy works at all but get mad for all i care

[felpsederation]

Aw, man. Did people know he was eavesdropping just besides the door for all of that. Well, it's too late to deny it now. Felps ducks into the house. He looks to Richarlyson first: clung to Pac. Then, he looks to Cellbit, who looks maybe like a cross between a man who has re-remembered life is nice and a cat experiencing the worst rejection of his life. Then to Pac, beckoning him over. He doesn't even really say anything past "oi". He takes a moment to move to Cellbit, rests his head atop xirs in a moment of cat-like comfort. And then, over to Pac's other side, like he'd been asked. He settles in, tries to smile and can't, opens his arms.

There is a certain level of anxiety that settles over Cellbit as he walks back to the Favela with Felps. He does his best to school his expression, keep his tail still and his ears from flattening against his head, but he is sure it is obvious. Especially to Felps.

This is for Pac, though. Cellbit can't just tell them no. This information involves them just as much as it does xem. They don't deserve to be alone to deal with this.

He tries to drag his feet the best he can, even though Felps doesn't really let him. Dread curls its way around Cellbit's esophagus with every step. What is Richas decides to show up; what if Cellbit is suddenly left to explain all the worst parts of himself to the child that, just days ago, was wrapping her little arms around his middle and chattering on about her drawings?

Cellbit doesn't know what xe will do if xe loses Richas. Being away from him was the hardest part of being within the sterile white walls of the Federation, and now xe might lose him again. What does Cellbit do if Richas never wants to see xem again? What does xe do if his lip curls with disgust, if he signs declarations of hate with little fingers that would typically curl around Cellbits'?

What does Cellbit do if xe loses xir family?

He shakes his head, the houses in the Favela beginning to slowly come into view. It won't happen. It can't. If- if Cellbit explains everything and gives enough time, then maybe there will be a way to preserve his relationship with his pombozinho.

With a final breath, like stones heavy in his lungs, Cellbit knocks on the door and lets himself in.

(@footballpigeon)

[uncanny-tranny]

One of the reasons I think it's so important to foster intellectual curiosity and, ultimately, learning and a love for learning is how it subtly changes the very way you interact with and understand the world around you.

It's funny, because I spent time just to hunt and find a skull in Skyrim just so I could rotate it in my inventory and admire how detailed it was for five minutes, pleased about how I could point out and name individual bones (they even included the individual cranial sutures! Including my favourite suture (lambdoid suture)). I'm now trying to hunt for a skeleton so I can spend even more time admiring it. There's something funny and empowering about how the way I interact with things has changed with my learning.

If there is nothing else you do, learn. It doesn't matter what you learn, just seek out information. I know for some, a love of learning was almost punished in environments like school, so start out with things you are inspired by, things that deeply pique your interest. Learning isn't a punishment, it doesn't have to be scary. Whatever you want to learn about is worth the time and effort it takes to understand it.

[archaeologs]

Cave painting of a bison. Altamira cave main gallery. Magdalenian parietal art c.15,000 BCE. Photo by P. Saura.

Learn more / Daha fazlası https://www.archaeologs.com/w/parietal/

[felpsederation]

[Something's melting.]

[rxttenfish]

fun fact about miranda: much like the tuatara, she has 3 eyes :3

[luxlightly]

...Whoever made this graphic...clearly thought that either the top of the right hand brain scan was the front of the brain or the left of the left hand one was the front of the brain,which would make the neruocyte in more or less the same place on both scans.

Except the rightmost scan quite clearly has the front of the brain at the bottom and the leftmost scan has the front of the brain on the right. Meaning, according to this, the neurocyte is apparently both in the upper right parietal lobe AND the bottom left frontal lobe.

I have to guess they just had the rightmost image upside down because, flipping it around, it puts the neurocyte directly in the parietal lobe, which makes sense since that part of the brain deals with a lot of sensory input and houses much of the language centers of the brain. Being the thing that makes it so you can read Strogg language, that would be sensible.

Though, if it is supposed to essentially remote control them, it would make sense to be in the frontal lobe as well.

That being said, there's a nearly 100% chance the person making this particular screen had no idea about any of that and picked that spot, along with pretty much everything else on the screen aside from just "neurocyte implanted" because it looked cool. Because a pulse of 84 bpm would be...uh...pretty extremely low for a man on a MASSIVE amount of adrenaline and 84 bps would be 5040 beats per minute, over 25 times faster than the wing beats of a bee so probably also not exactly on the money, there.

[scpwiki-official]

Multioculi are really fucked up when you think about it

[felpsederation]

"...Backpack me. So you have your arms free?"

[@felpsederation]

Mike rubs a hand down his face with a groan, pink eyes staring blankly ahead at his machine in front of him. Richas had gone down for her nap a bit ago, so he got back to work on the plans he had prepared. He was now in the, as Pac called it, "testing fugue" state; So, he was building, testing, destroying, rinse and repeat.

He groans again, straightening his back and squeaking a bit under his breath when his neck and back popped simultaneously. With a slump to his figure, he turned to walk back to his table, crossing something off a list and downing another cup of coffee.

He wasn't using the right material, it seemed. Or, at least, something not strong enough to withstand what it needed to. On top of that, the formula seemed to tear too easily, like fabric. It needed to match something equivalent to obsidian, and he was getting shit results.

He lightly tossed his tool back onto the table, hands planted on the edge as he stared down the next item on the list. A new formula, closer to silicone and denser. He needed to make it puncture and tear-free though, along with making sure it wasn't harmful to put in someone's mouth.

His mouth moves, mumbling and rubber duck-ing the formula back to himself, and his eyes squint.

He looks at the door and smiles, "It's okay, you can come in."

[simptasia]

me and my mum got all weirdly happy that picard has something wrong with his parietal lobe because i also have something wrong with my parietal lobe