From the science side of Tumblr to the Hannibal fandom
Blood looks black under the moonlight due to the Purkinje effect. Sensitivity of our eyes shifts towards blue/green under low light situations, such as moonlight, which leaves red objects appearing desaturated.
Dean is a painter, both the artistic kind and the kind that paints houses, he only really makes money doing the latter, but what can you do. He meets Castiel one day when he literally turns his world upside down. Castiel, this passionate professor of comparative literature at the local university who nearly walks right into Dean’s ladder while walking with his nose in a book. Dean luckily hears the guy coming, he’s muttering to himself and he kinda scuffs his feet while he walks, and shouts at him to watch out. It’s too little too late and they both end up on the ground, Dean on top of Cas, the can of paint- “White on White,” Dean recalls- upended on Dean’s head and splattered all over Castiel’s clothes and, most tragically, his book.
He apologizes profusely to Dean who shrugs it off- “Hazard of the job, what can you do?”- and helps Castiel to his feet. Castiel smiles sheepishly all while cradling his tarnished book. Dean offers to make it up to him, politely disregarding Castiel’s complaints that it was completely his own fault, and asks Castiel to lunch the following day at a little book shop cafe that they both coincidentally frequent with the promise that he will purchase Castiel a new book.
The date- though Dean swears to his brother, Sam, that it’s no such thing- goes off without a hitch. The conversation goes smoothly and Cas accepts the new book with only a little protest. It’s at that small little table in the coffee shop, the surface stained with the evidence of a coaster-less establishment and the leg that’s a little too short so the table wobbles every now and then, that Dean notices the color of Cas’ eyes. They’re blue, but he can’t figure out what blue. He cycles through the paint chips in his mind, he’s memorized them all, trying to find the best one. At the end of their meal, Dean gives Cas a hug and, trying one of the paint chip names on for size, says, “See you later, Ol’ Blue Eyes.” Cas’ face screws up in confusion, but Dean laughs and walks away.
“Is it true?” Sam asked, his head resting on Gabriel’s chest.
“What’s that?” Gabriel hummed, absentmindedly running is hand through Sam’s hair.
“Are freckles really from angel kisses?”
Gabriel chuckled a bit. “That’s your burning question?”
“Forget it,” Sam mumbled, blushing.
“Give me your hand, Samsquatch,” Gabriel requested, untangling his hand from Sam’s hair and holding it out. Sam reluctantly gave Gabriel his hand and the angel pulled it to his face. Lips pressed against Sam’s wrist and he gasped a little when the area turned hot and a tingle shot up his arm. After a moment, Gabriel’s lips moved away and he let go of Sam’s hand. When Sam brought it to his face to see the injury, he instead saw a splatter of freckles on the inside of his wrist.
“Does that answer your question?” Gabriel smiled, letting his hand slide down Sam’s back as the hunter sat up.
“I have a follow up,” Sam said, rubbing his thumb over the new freckles on his wrist. “This isn’t just an archangel power, is it?”