#gamboge

[gradienty]

Gamboge Gossip (#f0920e to #adf6a6)

[catwinterberry]

[mot-du-jour]

Gamboge

(n) yellow or yellow-orange

[kalavathiraj]

Gamboge yellow tree in autumn

Watercolors used only

[lifewithchronicpain]

Answer in the comments

[olenaart]

Tropical Fish Surrounded By Bubbles https://www.elephantstock.com/products/tropical-fish-surrounded-by-bubbles-by-olena?frame-color=black&layout=framed-canvas&esaid=ree4w3 

Aquatic Animal: Tropical Fish Surrounded By Bubbles is a captivating image that showcases the beauty and vibrancy of aquatic life. This mesmerizing scene features a variety of marine animals gracefully swimming in a circle, amidst a backdrop of crystal-clear water and floating water bubbles. The colors in this image are truly breathtaking, with shades of black, purple, teal, and gamboge creating a stunning visual display.

Hashtags: #AquaticAnimal #Circle #MarineAnimal #MarineBiology #SeaCreature #Water #WaterBubble #Colors #Black #Purple #Teal #Gamboge @elephantstock

[eddievillanueva]

“FATE Meeting Notes 9-10:30” @ishitadharap @it_is_just_dave @toubab_adama 4/13/23 - @foundationsinart #fate2023 #fateconference2023 #ishitadharap #davepabellon #adamfarcus #seriousplay #meetingnotes #gamboge #wallsturnedsideways #diagramminggrief #languagemakingastroublemaking #drawing #sketchbook #drawingoftheday #photooftheday #sketchoftheday #artistofinstagram #collage #coloredpencil #ink #inkdrawing #art #artwork #artschool #artistlife #radicalhonesty #watercolor #markers #alcoholmarkers https://www.instagram.com/p/Cq--GJALIyt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lobstertribe]

“ART WORK IN TWO FAVORITE COLORS” That was the prompt. Call me literal! Outlined and labeled with a CROSS Bailey fountain pen with PLATINUM Carbon ink and the two favorite color applied in a 9” x 12” BEE PAPER COMPANY Mixed Media sketchbook. #lobstartstudios @lobstartstudios #tom.brudzinski #dessin #sketch #drawing #croquisrapide #croquis #szkic #crossbaileyfountainpen #platinumcarbonink #watercolor #watercolour #aquarelle #akwarele #akwarela #gamboge #sapgreen #favoritecolors #twofavoritecolors #literal #literally #tooliteral (at Magical Archipelago) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm_pE5gLhQZ/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[vensulove]

🐮🤩

send me a 🐮 and i will refresh my pinterest and give u my first four pics as a random moodboard

[sunshadow-kitten]

traveling family <3

There's a new member in the lone wanderer AU family; Mango, the rich son of a noble joins as One's aprentice. He's lerning to fight to take revenge on the saboteur that caused the acident in witch his little brother died. One has very little expirence with people younger than him so really just treats Mango like another adopted kid.

Also LW! Purple has super long hair. (She's also been learning magic!!!)

individuals:

[gradienty]

Gamboge Honeysuckle (#f29e0c to #dcfc7d)

[ambivartence]

Hey girliee so curious about your Spotify wrapped, hmmm how about #4, 27, 38, anddd 42! But which one do you think deserved to be higher on the list

#4 퐁듀 (fondue) // dkb

#27 ready to fight // woodz

#38 crush on you // bae173

#42 la song // bae173

hehe wow i def had all of these on repeat at some point in the year but since i just saw woodz in concert yesterday i'm def gonna say that ready to fight deserves to be so much higher on my list it's suCH A STELLAR SONG

> send me a number 1-100 and i’ll tell you the song it corresponds with on my top 100 playlist! <

[itswrenly]

so that list of dialogue prompts i reblogged earlier?

yeah.

I accidentally wrote 900 words? Maybe? And I really like them??

so uh. That’s under cut. Character study timeee

content warnings:

- Murder/bounty hunting

- Descriptions of blood

- Non-detailed description of wounds

- Mention of a dead body

- On-screen character death

note that these are almost entirely contained within one scene, with the exception of discussions of bounty hunting.

“Stay in the den.”

Lumine remembered this evening well. Years later, it haunted her dreams, and gripped her mind in a way she’d take to her grave.

She is nine years old. Her da leans down, presses their forehead to hers, and tells her to stay. She does, for a few minutes, curling up in their nest and burying her face in her twelve front talons. It’s when she notices that Gamboge is also gone that she gets up.

It’s when she notices that her cousin, Scarab, is soaring outside, yelling for citizens to get into their dens, that she goes looking for her family.

The rope bridges of the Cavern’s Crypt Cord are barren. There’s commotion coming from the market cave, but unlike the usual noise, things sound as though they’ve turned violent. Lumine lacks wings. Additionally, she is a fledgling, and will not become a juvenile for another four years.

However, her family is in danger, and Lumine is as stubborn as she is fast on her feet.

The fledgling bolts across the hempen bridge and into the market. Dragons are flying out in a panic, and fail to notice her small stature slipping by. The scene she’s met with is not a pretty one.

Her da’s bright red scales were stained a shade darker as they stood next to Gamboge, who clutched his face in one of his hands, blood gushing from across his snout. The liquid trails to a serrated machete, discarded on the ground next to where she’s frozen.

It took a moment too long for Lumine to register the body of a Pyrite behind him, still bleeding out.

It took another moment for her to make eye contact with the dragon that stood across from the duo. They were a pale Pyrite, their face adorned with more gold and silver than Lumine would’ve known what to do with. Feathers covered their tail, wings, and wrists. Their sky blue eyes were piercing, almost entrancing in a sense.

Two years later, her da would teach her that the best way to keep someone from noticing someone else’s presence is to pretend to not notice them yourself. Two years later, she’d wonder if her da had known that when they had turned to Lumine and roared.

“RUN, LUMINE!”

It was their voice that wormed its way into her nightmares. Their command for her to flee. Their scream as the bounty hunter’s talons tear into their face. The Pyrite’s talons on the stone as they barrel towards Lumine.

This is the first time Lumine realizes that something is critically wrong with how she reacts to the world around her. This is when Lumine’s arm jerks out, four fingers and two thumbs curling around the handle of the machete. This is when she transfers the weapon to her other hand. This is when she lets in collide with the Pyrite’s chest.

Lumine is nine years old the first time she kills another dragon. There isn’t a drop of blood on her. The only evidence of the incident is the two deceased Pyrites, and the scars across her da and uncle’s faces.

She is seventeen years old. The Pyrite government fell apart last year, the capitol bombed by a group of rebels. Lumine convinced the leader of the rebellion, her surrogate brother’s elder sister, to save as many records of government-hired bounty hunters as she could before the bombing. They’ve finally found their way into Lumine’s talons. 

The bounty hunter’s name was Shāpu. Her aforementioned surrogate brother, a pure-blooded Pyrite named Arashi, tells her he’s rusty on his Old Pyrite, but is fairly confident that the name means “sharp.” She hasn’t told him about the incident, or why she picked through records, searching for those of this hunter specifically. She can tell he’s too afraid to ask.

She is twenty years old. The first time she speaks about the incident to anyone outside of those present is when she is trying to convince a young mixed-blood to fight his pibling, potentially to the death. His name is Pyre. He, like Arashi, is like a brother to her. He is two years younger than she is. He is hesitant. He wants to fight, but he is scared. She knows that his problem isn’t in a lack of skill; the dark purple scar that tears through his right eye he gained when he was just ten years of age makes that clear. She tells him about killing Shāpu. She tells him that she was half the age he is now. She tells him that she doubts he’ll have to fight his pibling to the death. She convinces him to go through with dueling them for leadership of their cord. Pyre wins with minimal bloodshed, and neither party is killed.

Lumine reflects that night. She reads over Shāpu’s records again. She dragonizes them in her head. As she finally lays down to sleep, ignorant of the sun climbing the horizon line, she asks herself if she’s glad she’s still alive.

She’s glad to have her da and Gamboge, who still look out for her. She’s glad to have Arashi, with his knowledge of old Pyrite and all-too-clear tells. She’s glad to have Pyre, with his sense of justice and distaste for violence, despite how he excels at it. So, she decides she’s glad she’s still alive. She’s not sure if she’s glad that Shāpu died for it, but she decides that concern and her answer can coexist.

She is twenty years old. She was nine when she first killed another dragon, but she has a da, an uncle, and two brothers, and she wouldn’t trade a single one of them for anything.

[catnipster69]

Wincest Fic Recommendations

See full list here.

Lightest

Green and Gamboge by @sevenfists

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25267

Sam first notices the weird dinging noise in Paducah, and by the time they hit Kansas City, it's a full-on clank and rattle, the car thumping rhythmically every time the engine turns over.

This is fucking adorable.

Gray

Come Home in the Car You Love by @sevenfists

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25264

It seems fucking stupid now—worse: naive—but Dean honest-to-God thought that everything would stop after he went to Hell. A big cosmic reset button. Like his death would settle the universe's score and Sam could make himself some kind of real life, one that didn't involve hitching his fate to Dean's inevitable demise.

Great mood, interactions, build-up. Classic.

Moderation Itself by @sevenfists

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363

"So just leave, then, if that's what you fuckin' want to do—" Dean said, and Sam slammed his hand down on the table and yelled, "Yeah, well maybe I will," and Dean said, "Fine," and Sam said, "You fucking asshole, I hope you rot in hell," and the next thing Dean knew, it was two days later and he was driving toward the Gulf, alone in the Impala for the first time in what felt like about ten million years.

Sometimes Dean needs time to process what he really needs.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

a list of "beautiful" words for you

to try to include in your next poem/story

Acrimonious - deeply or violently bitter

Adust - of a gloomy appearance or disposition

Alluvium - clay, silt, sand, gravel, or similar detrital material deposited by running water

Apophenia - the tendency to perceive a connection or meaningful pattern between unrelated or random things (such as objects or ideas)

Asterism - a group of stars that form a pattern in the night sky

Atrabilious - given to or marked by melancholy; gloomy; ill-natured, peevish

Bloodroot - a plant (Sanguinaria canadensis) of the poppy family having a red root and sap and bearing a solitary lobed leaf and white flower in early spring

Camelopard - an archaic word for giraffe

Clairsentience - perception of what it not normally perceptible

Decumbiture - a horoscope calculated at the time of taking to one's sickbed

Fluvial - of, relating to, or living in a stream or river; produced by the action of a stream

Gamboge - also spelled camboge, can be used to describe the vivid yellows of autumn

Grimalkin - a domestic cat—especially an old female one

Hibernaculum - a shelter occupied during the winter by a dormant animal (such as an insect, snake, bat, or marmot)

Monochromatism - complete color blindness in which all colors appear as shades of gray

Mordant - biting and caustic in thought, manner, or style

Offing - the near or foreseeable future

Pareidolia - the tendency to perceive a specific, often meaningful image in a random or ambiguous visual pattern

Riparian - relating to or living or located on the bank of a natural watercourse (such as a river) or sometimes of a lake or a tidewater

Sirocco - a hot desert wind that blows northward from the Sahara toward the Mediterranean coast of Europe; more broadly, it is used for any kind of hot, oppressive wind

Squall - describes a sudden violent wind often accompanied by rain or snow

Stereognosis - ability to perceive or the perception of material qualities (such as shape) of an object by handling or lifting it; tactile recognition

Struthious - of or relating to the ostriches and related birds; and more specifically, ignoring something that needs attention

Susurrous - full of whispering sounds

Synastry - concurrence of starry position or influence upon two persons; similarity of condition or fortune prefigured by astrology

If any of these words make their way into your next poem/story, please tag me, or send me a link. I would love to read them!

More: Lists of Beautiful Words ⚜ More: Word Lists

[lavenderspence]

an enduring, mighty warrior | S.R.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader  |  Word Count: 2.6K

Content warning: fluff, pregnant reader, mention of past death

Summary: you and spencer settle on a sentimental name for you baby

A/N: well hello, long time no see (literally i haven’t posted in over a month) and this is also the first thing i’ve finished in over a month. but i absolutely adore this, and i hope you do too. let me know if you figured out baby reid’s name before you finished reading.

masterlist

The drop in temperature was a usual occurrence for the tenth month of the year. Just when fall was slowly starting to reach its peak, almost in full swing, the all-Hallow’s Eve lovers were slowly putting up their decorations and getting ready to welcome the holiday. 

Despite the bite in the air, the sun was high up in the sky and gently warmed your skin. You inhaled, taking in the crisp autumn scent. Fresh and earthy, the smell of the fallen and slightly decaying leaves reached you on the third floor of the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, and so did the enchanting view.

Streets and sidewalks alike were covered in an abundance of colorful leaves - from scarlet and burgundy to amber, carnelian, and gamboge yellow. Browns, like feuille morte and chocolate, and the softest shades of gold sprinkled in between. Trees, their crowns a beautiful array of hues in varying stages of change.

And as you looked on over the balcony banisher, you couldn’t help but feel like you were surrounded by pure magic - not just the scenic beauty, but the feel, the essence of the season itself. It was so peaceful and quiet at times, with a certain stillness present in the air. Was the world even awake, or was it just in a state of contentment?

That’s how Spencer found you a couple of minutes later - in a state of peacefulness as you took in the scene before you, curled up on the small nook you and your boyfriend had put together on your balcony. 

He pushed open the door, carrying a steaming cup of tea in each hand and a thick, colorful book under his arm. He passed you one of the cups and settled next to you, pulling a blanket across your lap. 

His long fingers pushed a piece of hair away from your face before he pulled you towards him and laid a soft kiss on the side of your head. As you cradled your cup, taking in the rich aroma of the tea he’d prepared for you, he reached over and cradled your bump, running his thumb around in different shapes.

It was rare to spend a whole day together in the comfort of your home. With a job where the wellbeing of people sat heavily on the team’s shoulders, where Spencer’s knowledge, his brain, and he himself was needed, you could sometimes go days without seeing each other. That had been the case when you’d started dating.

But you’d made it work - you’d managed to find a way to communicate clearly whenever the hardships of his job had gotten the best of you. A way that had allowed your relationship to build on a stable foundation of trust, love, and mutual understanding.

Late-night phone calls, separated by miles of land. Impromptu dates, minutes, and hours spent in each other’s presence, savoring what little time you had together. Declarations of love, small touches, and gentle talk - a relationship you’d only ever read about in books. 

But that’s exactly what it felt like to love him, to be loved by him - a love full of memories of waking up to the other’s warmth, savoring the feeling of them in your arms, their lips stealing the breath from your lungs - a fairytale love story you couldn’t wait to tell your kids about.

“Soon.” A little voice in your head chimed in to remind you. Very soon, you’d have a little someone to tell the story to. You’d hold a little precious someone, born out of the love you shared, a combination of your favorite things about the other. 

In your periphery, you watched as Spencer pulled the book into his lap. “A baby names book?” you asked, eyeing the cover - a colorful blend of blues and pinks, yellows and greens. 

He smiled your way before he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you into his side. As you settled against him, you felt the pads of his fingers gently run over your bump again.

Ever since he’d taken hold of that stick and seen with his own eyes the future that awaited you some nine months later - the possibility, the reality of a family he’d longed for years to have - he'd started expressing his love for both you and your child with the smallest of touches and the gentlest of voices. 

A run of his fingers against your stomach, even when the roundness of the life you’d created together had yet to make an appearance. Gently holding onto the barely there bump a few weeks later when it had finally appeared. Talking in a soft, hushed voice to your baby boy every time he could - telling him about his day, the boring paperwork, or that new pastry shop you’d tried out together, and the sweets you’d loved.

He’d taken on being a father fabulously, even though he was technically still a dad-to-be. Even though he hadn’t had the faintest idea of what a dad should be, hadn’t been blessed with the experience of having a man like himself as a father, he’d jumped headfirst and hadn’t looked back. 

He’d read books, he’d searched the internet, and he’d talked with Will and Aaron for hours on end. He’d tried to prepare; he’d tried to show he’d be the father that he never got to have.

And even when the reality of the lack of a paternal figure in his life caught up with him, he’d taken it in stride. Just like with everything else in your relationship, you’d had an open conversation where he’d been able to share with you his biggest anxieties and fears. 

You’d reminded him of how involved he was already, how ecstatic and curious he was to learn everything possible, and how he knew so much already. How he’d far surpassed the man his father was and how there was no place for comparison between them. You’d calm his mind and praise his character - in your eyes, he was already the greatest man and father ever.

“He still doesn’t have a name.” He responded as he cracked open the book. 

“There’s still time.” You muttered as you ran your fingers up his arm, gently scratching at the skin. He gave you a funny look and shook his head before he flipped the pages. You knew he loved being prepared beforehand, especially when it came to your little one. 

Spencer had started buying him little things early on, even before you knew he was a “he” - plushies, blankets, socks, and small adorable shoes. He’d gotten him a variety of books; he’d even learned some of them by heart by now. 

The nursery had long ago been painted and put together, with the help of the abundance of aunts and uncles and a grandpa, waiting for the little ones’ arrival. 

But the one thing he still didn’t have was a name. And not for lack of trying to pick one. You’d thumbed through books, you’d browsed the internet, and you’d even asked Penelope to put together a list of names for you, yet you could never settle on one. 

“Okay, what have we got?” You mumbled, lacing your fingers together as they settled comfortably one over the other on your bump. 

“Noah? It’s Hebrew, and it means 'rest’ or even ‘peaceful’.” He suggested, turning to see what you thought about it. You could see on his face he wasn’t really into it, and neither were you. It was a beautiful name, but it didn’t feel like that was the right name for you. You simply shook your head and watched as he flipped a few more pages.

“How about Luca? It means ‘bringer of light’.”

“It’s also Italian if I’m not mistaken, and Rossi’s going to love that.” He’d even suggested a few Italian names the last few months, but none had stuck.

“Do you love it though?” You shook your head in response. He continued flipping the pages of the book as you sipped your tea. 

“Avery? It’s unisex, and it’s British.” You mulled it over, kind of liking the sound of it.

“Avery Reid, it’s not that bad. What does it mean though?” You asked

“Ruler of elves.” He mumbled, scratching at his brow.

“Absolutely not!” You started laughing as you shook your head. “We’re not naming him ‘ruler of elves’. Spencer, there’s a possibility he’s going to be born around Christmas anyway; we’re not putting our son through that.” You watched as he flashed you a cute little smile and shook his head at you.

He continued flipping the pages of the book, suggesting names and sharing their meaning and origin - Miles, Owen, Aspen, Wesley, and many more - but none of them seemed to fit. None screamed, baby Reid. 

You observed Spencer carefully as he flipped the pages, eyes running slower than they usually did. He looked overly preoccupied, borderline fixated on picking a name for your son, and not for the first time. It almost felt like he intentionally focused on any and all possibility, sans the one, or maybe even the few he held close to his heart. 

And you could see, you could tell he had a few ideas on his mind, but for whatever reason, he didn’t share them. It’s like a part of him was holding back, fighting with himself about the possibility of naming your child that. 

Deep down, a part of you knew what he was wrestling with - so you decided to spare him from having to voice it. 

“How about Gideon?” You whispered, and his head perked up instantly. His eyes and his whole face softened at your suggestion - a suggestion that was actually his own. He closed the book and turned to face you fully.

“Really?” His voice was small, the emotion evident underneath his soft timber. You watched as his eyes watered just a little, shining in the gentle sunlight. You never got to meet the infamous Jason Gideon, but you’ve heard the stories. You knew what he’d done for Spencer, how he’d taken him under his wing, and how he’d protected and cared about him in his own way. 

You remembered how hard he’d taken the heartbreak that settled upon the team last January. The many nights he’d woke up in cold sweat, unable to take a breath, as the scene played on a loop in his head - a body sprawled underneath a white sheet on the wooden flooring of a cabin meant to shield its owner from the horrors of his old job. Bathed in a cozy light, with the record player that had stopped playing a tune long ago and the unfinished chess game, your boyfriend had tried to play for weeks on end but been unable to. 

The many late-night tears he’d shed in the crook of your neck, the hiccups that had followed, and the gentle shushing of your voice trying to calm him down, trying to be his anchor. 

It was evident, without having met him, the monumental impact Jason Gideon had had on the person Spencer was today. There was no question about it; you were certain that if he wanted to honor the man who’s taken the role of a father figure when he hadn’t had one, you’d give him that. You’d want him to have it; you’d want him to wake up every day and be reminded of how far he’d made it and the person who’d made sure he had.

“Yes, really.” 

Before you knew it, he had pulled you into his arms and wrapped them around your body as much as your bump would allow. “Thank you.” He breathed into your neck on a shaky exhale. You turned and pressed a kiss against his head as you started gently running your fingers in his hair, playing with the curls. 

You stayed like that for a little while longer before he pulled you into the softest kiss. A kiss meant to express both his gratitude and love and the everpresent awe you left him in. A kiss, where both your emotions ran high - where he was coming down from the reminder of the past, and both of you were looking forward to the quick approaching future. 

“He still needs a second name.” You whispered against his lips when he pulled back. You watched as his whole face changed for just a second, as if a lightbulb went off in his head. “What?” You asked.

He shook his head before he pecked your lips again. “Nothing.” 

“Come on,” You pushed his hair back a little, “I could see the gears in your brain shifting just by the look on your face. Did you have a suggestion?” You rubbed your thumb against his forehead. 

He shook his head again. “It’s nothing. I want you to give him a name too.” 

“I already did, Spence. You can give him his second name if you let me name our future daughter.” You joked and watched as his entire face lit up at the mention of another child, a girl. You knew he’d be an amazing father to your son, you were certain, but a part of you couldn’t help but also imagine an early morning with a little girl whose pigtails he tied as she told him about her dreams. He nodded with a smile.

“What’s the name?” 

“Remember when I got shot in the neck two years ago?” You nodded as he started playing with your fingers. “I had this distinct memory - I was bleeding out, losing consciousness, and I guess Alex slipped and called me by another name. That night, when she dropped me off, the night she quit the BAU, I asked her about it.” He finally looked up and met your eyes.

“She had a son, Ethan. He passed away when he was nine - they told her it was neurological, but there’s never been a name for it. All these years, and she still doesn’t know, she never got an answer to the one question that impacted her life the most.” He shook his head at the injustice of the world. 

Even with the knowledge of the over 26 thousand diseases present in the world and the many more that have yet to be discovered, he couldn’t help but feel her pain, now more than ever when he was about to become a parent himself. 

Despite the fact that you never got to meet one of Spencer’s paternal figures, you got to meet his work mom - that’s what Alex was to him in your mind. You knew, deep down, that’s the way he saw her too. 

Even though he grew up with a loving mother in the form of Diana, you knew he missed on monumental things with her - talking about his first love, dates, his feelings, and sometimes even his future. 

But Alex had been there when he’d started loving you - she’d heard about your dates, and she’d listened as he gushed on and on about you and the future he wished to build with you. As a woman, whose marriage had withstanded some of the toughest battles, she’d offered her advice too. 

You knew she loved him like he was her own and loved you just as much.

“So, Ethan Gideon?” You asked softly, already in love with the name. It was perfect - it honored the person who shaped the person Spencer was today, who started him on this journey, that would later allow him to meet you. And the person who witnessed the start of the love between you both. 

And turns out, you weren’t the only one on board with the name - a series of strong kicks followed the moment you uttered his name out loud for the first time. 

You laughed as you grabbed your boyfriend’s hand, following the kicks together. 

“Ethan Gideon Reid.” He whispered before he pulled you in for another kiss. 

did you figure out the name?🥹

Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!