#Blue isn't real

[samsimisauser]

Sorry to go back to this, but now that I have a free moment I am going to bore you some more. I’m sending you this here because there’s a character limit in replies.

It seems like a lot of blue colours in nature (not plants which contain a anthocyanins which is I think what they say the Na’vi from Avatar have, but they’re plant like aliens.)

Looking at natural living creatures with blue colours, it appears that they are not blue pigments but are considered to be structural colours. So the question of blue is actually less of a biology question but physics https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/16449568/

A good example of this is the Blue Morpho Butterfly which is has a brown pigment. Blue morpho butterflies had a distinct structure that are called “diffraction grates” that causes the light to scatter, and appears iridescent blue to our eyes.

You can actually see these under a microscope https://www.uvm.edu/~dahammon/Structural_Colors/Structural_Colors/The_Blue_Morpho_Butterfly.html

Similarly the blue feathers of a bird are also structural colours, and blue because of the way light scatters on the keratin. When the light hits the feathers the red and yellow wavelengths cancel each other out, leaving the human eye to perceive it as blue.

However, beta-keratin is only found in reptiles and birds. Alpha-keratin on the other hand is found in all vertebrates and is what human hair is made up of. These two forms of keratin are structurally different. Alpha-keratin are helical and beta-keratin are parallel sheets. https://www.researchgate.net/figure/Secondary-structures-of-keratin-protein-beta-pleated-sheets-and-alpha-helix_fig1_329169109

This doesn’t really explain anything, but some context behind the colour blue in nature is rare because it is not actually a naturally found pigment (except for rare cases) but is a product of light scattering due to structural properties of the animal.

So as a scientist, my natural instinct is to consider your hypothesis and then propose additional observations to confuse everybody.

So from the structure of beta-keratin and butterfly wings, and now that my free time is running to an end so I can’t really examine other examples, I wonder if this has anything to do with ridges and planar structures.

So what if instead of collagen, which is usually found on the scalp-end of hair follicles on hair, the blue of Marinette’s hair and other people blue-hair ancestry have some mutation that causes a structural change in their keratin structure that forms small planar ridges that scatters light in such a way that the hair appears blue?

Just spitballing. Thanks for listening!

Probably Correct!

The reason i went with Collagen instead of Keratin is that i forgor found "evidence" (hairdresser manual from 1890) of Blue hair growth after long term exposure to Cobalt/Indigo (thus pigments). Structural Color is the most likely reason why hair would be blue, all the things that can be naturally blue on a human appear blue because of structure.

I then looked for Blue in other animals, preferably Mammals, preferably Primates. I did not find evidence for Blue Keratin in Mammals. So we have evidence for Blue Collagen in a close relative of Humans, and none for Blue Keratin in any Mammal.

Realistically it probably would be caused by a difference in Keratin, arrangement instead of a protein where its not supposed to be.

[langernameohnebedeutung]

How does it keep happening

[strawberymilkk]

[nitewrighter]

I feel like "Voting as harm reduction" falls under the category of, "Does your leftist praxis involve doing the dishes" like yeah no, it's not ideal but it's kind of bare minimum.

[thee-radio-host-is-a-kookaburra]

"Guys don't worry, we're not targeting pwNPD! All cluster b personality disorders are abusive!"

i think i should be allowed to hunt egotypicals for sport

[frillyyyy]

I drew my stay at home wife

Absolutely not drawing the other eye

nuh huh don't even think about asking

[cookierunauprompts]

Im tryna cook here so hear me out on this : what if SMC(shadow milk cookie)​&reader are in the same trope of Rudolph​&Catherine from dangerously yours?(it may not be same-same kidda wipe cuz I didn't watch the movie yet lol(srry not srry))​ : It's started from reader got send by the witches to spy keep eyes on the old ancients(before corrupted-after corrupted)​but suddenly reader fell in love with one of them(aka SMC)​and so do he,but then after he and the other got corrupted he become obsessed toward them(obviously)​but then he started to realized that the witches are planing to seal him and the other fallen ancient​s away cause​ of their actions of being corrupted and cause choas on earthbeard, so he conveice reader to tell him how to get to the witches(reader's witches spy and have their own specific way to contact/went to face the witches)​ and get him and his friends revenge on the witches but reader ran away instead and not telling him,and in the end they met each other​ again at the silver tree where the witches was going to seal them in and the line between reader&shadow milk will be like : "your time is up" "do you think actually going to let it happen?to let them seal me?to seal us?!" "..i mean just that" "....... well then go ahead" "i'll get this over with" "You won't do it,you won't let this happen...you won't because you love me."-"it takes a very brave and and a very cold person to do that,(y/c/n)"-"I don't think you can..."

Note / I think amma gonna end it here and I'll let u imagine it on ur own😭actually it was gonna be longer than this but I accidentally delete half of it so my lazy ass just tell me to get this over with😔(no any​one's oc x canon pls I beg u(Im srry))​

throwing this into the Warden Reader AU, because silly.

Requested Prompts #44 - 💔💓

The words of the witches ring through your head as you stand ready in your position. " You have to be there, Reader Cookie." They had said. " For you are the only one who can see through his deception, it's how we know that the seal will truly work on them all." You knew what they'd really meant, but it was whatever. This was your purpose, what you were made for. There was no defying your own destiny when your were chained to it. It was an anchor dragging you down into the abyss of the sea, dread it, run from it, hide from it all you wish but it will still drag you down all the same. And then, you saw him. Your destiny made personified right in front of you in the form of a far too large blue cookie. Shadow Milk Cookie, the Cookie of Deceit as Elder Faerie had put it. The grin he wore was wide, yet not open enough to look insane as it usually did. His eyes were focused on you, keeping track of each and every action you took and each reaction you displayed. Such analysis befitted the former Cookie of Knowledge, but only fragments of the past were left in the beast before you. He'd strayed from how the witches made him due to the power of the soul jam, all of them had. You steel yourself after a mere millisecond of hesitation, pointing your spear at him with determination. " Your time is up." You coldly announced, not daring to let anything else slip into your tone. He'll use anything to get the upper hand, all you need to do is to distract him until the seal is prepared. His grin widened. " You mean you're actually going through with this? You're actually sticking by them, even though they're betraying you?" He asked, almost mockingly in tone. You knew not to search his expression for a hint of genuineness in his expression like you did in the past, and yet you did for just a moment. And maybe there was something, but you stopped yourself from looking. " ... I mean just that." You replied. You watched as he shrunk down, each step he got smaller and smaller until he was just a bit taller than you. " Well by all means, go ahead my dear." He said almost cruelly, taunting you by laying his head upon the tip of your spear. You hesitate, " This will be your finale." you state to his amusement. He smiled, an airy chuckle seeping through his lips. " You won't do it, you can't bring yourself to let this happen. All because you love me." The beast taunts, pressing his neck closer to the blade in a way that was just enough to draw forth a few droplets of his blueberry jam. " It takes a very brave and cold cookie to do that, I don't think you can."

----

Or, what happened before the witches sealed the beasts in the Warden!Reader timeline, and during.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Hiii! Love your work! So ever since that episode Chigiri calls Isagi attaboy, my brain has been just in there. So could I maybe get some good old, fast, maybe a little rough Chigiri calling reader Attagirl? Maybe a little bit of degradation too. Like being mean maybe

This man lives in my head tent free jdkdkd

“You dumb whore, instead of complaining can’t you put your mouth to better use?”

You knew from day one that Hyoma is a moody guy and you also learned how to deal with him, but today he really reached to apex, mood swinging back and forth and you were way too angry (and horny) to deal with it; thankfully Hyoma followed your lead.

Your mouth now kissing his boner through the fabric of his boxer, you can feel it twitch already, his hips grinding into your mouth begging to feel your mouth without any barrier.

It’s funny teasing Hyoma when he is in such a bad mood, but you are human too. You pull his dick out, usually, you would kiss the tip and lick slowly the shaft with the utmost care, but today isn’t the right one for such a nice treatment. You take as much as you can, moaning around the shaft.

“Ah finally” Hyoma groans. He then grips your hair, something he usually wouldn’t do, and forces you to take him all, your gags and tears make him just more aroused. He keeps you there for a second, enjoying the tightness of your throat, then let you go.

Tears running down your face and a string of spit connecting your abused mouth to his tip; a picture that is going to be framed in his head for a long time.

“Just say you wanted this from the start you bitch” A nasty snark escape his lips.

Hyoma grabs one of your hands and guides it to his thigh, a silent promise that he is gonna stop at the first tap, then he pulls your head again and starts fucking your face.

“You take it so well – You feel so good, fuck”  His words only spur you to do better, laving your tongue on the sides of the shaft as good as you can, your mouth making wet, sinful noises every thrust.

“K-keep going for a little bit more”

You nod, as best as you can since he is still keeping your head in place, the vibration making a delicious shiver run down his spine.

“Atta - attagirl” This time it’s your turn to feel the shiver; it is so good to be praised.

“Goddess, c-can I come on your face?” Hyoma moans, the aggressiveness of earlier almost vanished.

This time you don’t have time to answer, Hyoma already pulled out, jerking off at the sight of your tears, snot, and overall miserable face. A few more pumps and you found your lips and cheeks stained by strings of his cum.

“W-was it too much?”

“You were just perfect”

“Give me a minute and get on all fours, it’s time for me to reward my good girl.”

[seirindono]

THE BLUE BOI NOOOO

I LOVE THE BLUE BOI

WHY WOULD YOU KILL THE BLUE BOI??

AAaAaAaAaa

Mel: This is going too far, I don't want to play anymore...

She gave him his scarf back in the end.

[vintageseawitch]

a pro-Palestine movement called "Abandon Harris" in order to "punish her & the party" is absolutely wild. what the US is doing is not okay; this kind of impassioned response now is a little weird mainly because it's during election season.

yes, absolutely criticize our political leaders as long as we're able to. pressure them for better things. emphasize that certain things need to stop. but this "movement"? where they offer no realistic alternatives & are working hard to attack a woman of color to "punish her"? it's a very fine line. i don't hear this rhetoric for the men let alone trump. why isn't HE getting "punished"??

i'm a white woman. it's not my place to be some kind of white "savior." i'm just pointing out it's strange. besides her being non-white, she's also a woman. another point (& i'm not saying they deserve to go through a genocide because of this... but honestly it's not great) is that Palestinians are also pro-women-are-second-class-citizens so anyone using the language of "punishing" a woman is absolutely gross.

like i said, they don't use that language to attack trump. they don't use that language to attack members of Congress who are also anti-Palestine. the only time i'm seeing this is them attacking the campaign of a presidential candidate who is a woman of color. yes, she's currently vp, but these same protestors also don't seem to know how the government works or just ignores reality.

am i splitting hairs? maybe. they're so passionate about this & it's admirable because of that, but i'm always questioning: does it seem like they're being particularly harsh to her due to misogynoir? it's a fine line that's for sure. i'm not saying to not protest but people also need to be realistic. between this & protestors lashing out at those who care about out domestic issues it doesn't feel too great.

a movement like this specific one feels sus, though. like they're trying too hard to divide us to make sure trump wins. i hope that's not the case bit so many leftists also love jill stein who is a putin puppet & doesn't care for us at all. y'all aren't the perfect individuals who never fall for propaganda you think you are. we all are susceptible. be pragmatic & reasonable. try not to let feelings & ego make such an important decision for you. this election is not a normal one.

[prncewilhelm]

craaazy that some of you are so determined he stays within the mould when the entire show is chronicling him breaking out of it 

[resdayn]

transphobes stay mad

[benbird]

I swapped their eye textures and jesus they're scary

[bluewonderer]

a trigun stampede headcanon about humans, plants, and independents

Man made the Plants. 

They slipped their wonder, their hubris, their science on them like a glove and reached through planes of existence to where raw elements danced together in elegant catastrophe and plucked them like an apple blossom from a tree. 

The first one died before Man could even touch it. 

The first one hundred died before they could even leave their dimension. 

But that was the way of these elements, of these beings. They were born and died in a flash, a firework barely bloomed before its sparks were falling like dying petals. It was their way. It was their dance. What were concepts like years and moments to them, anyway? They were born to burn, to let their simultaneous life and death stretch out across time and space and fuel entire universes. 

Man kept reaching. It is what they do best.

No human ever looked into this plane of celestial energy, no human ever could. It was concept, it was matter and energy, it was horror so beautiful and beauty so terrible that it would shatter a human mind. To look through eyes was to try to capture the infinite in the finite. 

The first one died before Man could even see it. 

The first one hundred died before they could even touch it. 

They layered on science and ingenuity and determination. And they stopped trying to look through their eyes and started breaking the plane down into data, started viewing it through monitors and numbers. 

The first Plant that they successfully bring over they can’t look at, they can only observe the lines of numbers running across the screen. 

Sort of look like vines, someone said into the video that was recording this historical moment. Like a plant blooming across the screen. I’ve never seen data like this. 

The first Plant that touches Earth dies less than a second later. The scientists still can’t look at it, couldn’t describe it if they could, but the world turns red as it dies. 

It doesn’t die in an explosion. In fire and destruction. When the scientists blinked the red out of their eyes, it is said that the labs were covered in green vines and leaves and flowers. 

The first Plant dies in life. 

Man made Plants in their image. 

They wouldn’t live in their natural forms—in the ones outside of time and physics and logic. In the ones that died as they were born, spinning their embers into new galaxies. So they were shaped into forms Man knew. Petals, like a flower, like the flowers that bloomed when the first one touched Earth. An homage, a tribute, a promise to do better. 

And, inside the petals, they shaped the Plants with facsimiles of faces and eyes and mouths, with neck and shoulders and arms. They lovingly traced familiar curves, made them soft and feminine. These would be the new life-givers of the human race. They would save Earth. They would help Man explore and discover worlds and lifeforms and the unknowns beyond their own solar system. And so Man shaped them into soft and angelic things, into higher forms sent to aid mankind in its time of need. 

The Plants lived for more than a moment, their pure, incomprehensible energy siphoned off slowly, carefully, until they could exist in a slow dance that could last decades. Centuries.

And there was life, and it was good. 

Plants made Man. 

It took a long time. Maybe. Probably. What is time to matter? What is time to gravity? What is time to time? The beings that came to be called Plants had no concepts or words for such things. They did not even have words, not like the humans. 

They had dance. They had fire. They had birth and death and everything in between compressed into one single glorious moment and spread out across dimensions, across space and planes of existence. They had frenetic energy, enough to form worlds, enough to destroy existence. 

Humans thought that their lives were short, and maybe so, in some sense. But Plants thought that the span of humans were pitiful, wet embers. No spark. No bloom.

No dance. 

Their first memories as Plants, their first stories whispered among their kin, were of white nothingness, were of being stuffed from the span of galaxies into small spaces, the cramping of being formed into petals of soft curves. 

It was not painful, the reshaping. The conceptualizing. The becoming describable for humans. It just was. Is. Will be. The Plants looked at each other, looked at themselves reflected in their glass homes, and thought themselves strange and alien. 

The humans called them beautiful and they echoed yes, yes we are beautiful. Strange. New. Curious. We are not exploding, we are not stretching across and above and through with our deaths. We’re not dying at all. 

We are not dancing. 

But they could still hear their home, the place they were before they were plucked. They could resonate with their kin from far away, listen to them dance. They were too slow, too far away to dance with them. 

But they could sing for them. 

Gradually, the Plants came to see more than sterile white rooms and humans with reflective faces. They saw all kinds of humans—tiny ones. The tiny ones were their favorite—so small, so new, but loudloudloud. Screaming, laughing, throwing energy as wildly as the Plants used to when they were Before. The tiny ones lit up rooms, lit up the faces of the bigger humans.

They danced. 

Other humans. Ones with the curves similar to the Plants’ new shapes. Others that looked like the scientists except with faces. The bigger humans were tiny sparks, hardly any energy left at all. The Plants sang for them, anticipating the dance, the life giving rush of their death. 

But it never seemed to come. The bigger humans just kept on living, just kept on diminishing. 

It was the way of things, the way of these beings other than themselves. Good or bad, the Plants didn’t know, because they didn’t know the meaning of such things. It just was.  

They learned more, sometimes, with eyes peeking out between their petals when they weren’t busy singing to their firework brethren on the other side of the Great Gate. 

(Eyes were funny things. A shape given to them by humans that they didn’t quite need.) 

They learned that the Small Plants--the tiny humans with bright, bright energy—were the offspring. They learned about families and friends. They learned about the Engineers—the ones that took care of the Plants, that would relieve the pressure when it all got too much, when their elongated life and the drain on their energy made them feel heavy and wrong. 

They learned about the shapes of humans. Their eyes and noses and mouths. Their laughter—the closest they got to dancing. Their care and kindness, the funny little creative ways they thought to sustain and feed the Plants—like with the alien, beautiful things that they called flowers. 

They learned about things like fear and grief. But not by watching humans. It was born within them, made them different from their brethren beyond the Great Gate.  

Their deaths were slow, now. Their deaths were separated out from their births, and it no longer felt like a dance. They would shove all of their remaining energy at the humans, and the humans used it. But it was a poor stretch, a wilting bloom compared to the reality-bending bursts of those on the other plane. 

In watching the slow deaths of their kin, their sisters, all Plants came to dread it. But a long, long time of song would pass between each death. A song where they witnessed an infinite number of their kin dancing on the other side of the Great Gate, and the fear would be forgotten in the resonance. 

Until the next one. 

Man made Plants. 

Plants, in turn, made Man. 

As Man plucked their other selves, the them-before-they-become-Plants, from across planes of existence, so Plants plucked what they knew of humans to make their own creation.

It was an exchange. A dance. 

It took a long time. It took no time at all. What Plants call consciousness weren't merged with the others. They were not a collective. But they had their songs. Sung and passed down and shared. Distance and time meant nothing with the song. 

They came to understand the shape of humans—their hearts, which pumped blood. Their ribs, which protected the heart. Their muscles, which protected the ribs. The skin, which hid everything within them. 

They learned that the water produced from their eyes was called sorrow. And sometimes it was called joy. They watched the scientists work, their favorite Engineers, and they learned about creativity and care. They peeked through their petals, and learned about blood and anger and hate. 

They tried to prevent it, but their own fear and dread of a slow death was stitched into the song they wove into their new creation. 

Then there was the shaping. Things like eyes and hair and noses and mouths. They made Man small, because the Small Plants were their favorites, the brightest spark among humans. They made the first one feminine, because they had come to learn that that’s what Man shaped the Plants after, and thought that that was Man’s favorite. 

Love, as Man understood it, could not be understood by Plants. 

But their First was born with the hope that She would dance. 

And there was life. 

But it must not have been good, or good as humans understood it, because they destroyed Her. Took apart her petals, caught her fire before it could bloom across the planes, before it could touch the Great Gate and beyond. Before it could join the song of their kin. 

And more strange things were born within Plants, were sewn with whispered dissonance into their song.

Loss. Anger. Grief. 

Fear. 

Fear. 

Fear. 

These were woven even more thickly into the songs of the next creation. Because there were always going to be more. 

Maybe the Plants gained more human characteristics than they thought. Curiosity. Determination. 

Hope. 

Hubris.

And so, they created two more Plants in the image of Man. Still tiny-shaped, because the Plants favored the human offspring the most. But these would grow into sharper angles and the heavier muscle that were both more predominant in their samplings of scientists and engineers. 

Maybe Man would love these shapes more than the promised softness of the First. 

And so two were born in the shape of Men. Born to live instead of born to die. Born to burn and bloom and diminish a slow death. The Plants hoped that they would learn the song of their kin, that they would touch the Great Gate. That maybe they could even dance just once with the others, with the beings-before-Plants. That they would dance with each other, and with the humans. 

And there was life. 

[anonymocha]

I CANT SLEEP IM PRAYING SO HARD THAT KAALAA BAUNAA GETS A SKIN ON 1.8 PLIS PLIS PLIS PLIS

[everyryuujisuguro]