#flourescent yellow

[denim-bias]

[p1ckthep01son]

said to myself (out loud alone in my room at 4:33 in the morning) "i should dye my hair yellow again" and then made the most pained screeches imaginable when i remembered that i just bleached and dyed my hair 1 day ago

[dean-boese-universe]

Episode 103 The Backrooms Six Million Square Miles of Nightmare

[pansyfemme]

jude pansyfemme pop quiz

[is-the-snake-video-cute]

What are some really colorful snake species/morphs that are ethical to keep as pets? I know there's quite a few iridescent species of snake, but what about snakes that are just super vibrant and colorful?

Oh, there are so many!

You can get a cornsnake in almost any color you want, with vibrant pinks and oranges and yellows! If you love colorful snakes, check out flourescents.

If you love iridescence, check out kingsnakes. They have smooth, glossy bellies that shine like rainbows in the right light. I especially love the iridescence on Mexican black kingsnakes.

Speaking of kingsnakes, I'm absolutely besotted with lavender albinos. Photographs never do them justice, but they're a lovely dark pink/light purple color with dark red eyes and they're beautiful.

Banana enchi ball pythons. They're stunning.

Speaking of enchi ball pythons, enchi clowns. Probably my personal favorite ball python morph!

If you love colorful and you're an experienced keeper looking for a display snake, Amazon tree boas are the way to go.

There are so many incredibly vibrant and beautiful snakes out there that make great pets!

[tailing-sun]

Shadow High OCs Bio 5: Hotaru Yoruno

COLOUR: Night sky blue, neon yellow

YEAR: First

GENDER: Bigender

FOCUS: Music Composition

STYLE: Flourescent. Eclectic. Visual Kei.

QUOTE: “Words come and go, but music is forever.”

BIO: The EDM prodigy sensation from Harajuku is now in the States, and the trip hasn’t slowed them down at all. Hotaru Yoruno, or NiteLite as they’re known on Spotify, brings an experimental, unique sound to Shadow High’s music scene. Combining discordant pianos/violins and eerie synthesized vocals with backing tracks including things like old handset ringtones, heart monitors, and computer error sounds, Hotaru’s music style is best described as something out of a weird dream, and their listeners like it that way. In Hotaru’s mind, every musical rule has a loophole, and music theory doesn’t equal music fact. They draw their inspo mostly from underground lo-fi artists and Vocaloid producers from the dark side of NicoNicoDouga, which adds a definite nostalgic edge to their work. Most people don’t know that Hotaru is actually a decent vocalist in their own right, but they lack the confidence to put that much of themself in their work. Maybe someday…but not without some serious audio filtering.

OTHER:

-Hailing from the Harajuku district in Tokyo, they’re fifteen years old.

-Yes, they’ve used UTAU at least twice in their music composition (they haven’t used vocaloid yet but their favourites are Iroha, Piko, and vflower).

-Their closest friend is Wyn, even providing music for xir animations, and the two may be developing a mutual crush.

-They’re passionate about webcore, nostalgiacore, analog horror, and old flash games and cartoons.

-Admires Neon Shadow, and was hired to help out with a few of the band’s shows’ sound design and sfx.

-Anime and manga don’t hold much interest for Hotaru, and they’re sick of being asked about it just because they’re Japanese and occasionally wear t-shirts with anime characters on them. (They’re not averse to visual novels, however.)

-They love to be outdoors on summer nights and don’t mind camping, either. Their favourite thing to do is play catch-and-release with fireflies.

-Hotaru’s favourite fashion subcultures come from the heart of 90s-mid 2000s era Harajuku, including gyaru, Lolita, boystyle, and especially visual kei.

[mlmxreader]

Yellow Daffodils | Kyle Gaz Garrick x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Hi! Hope you're doing well, saw you were writing for Gaz!

So happy! , he's so underrated :(((

Could I rest the prompt Surprising the other with a gift with him please?

Thank you, have a good night!!! ❞

: ̗̀➛ Gaz is always full of surprises when it comes to you, and every time you think he's done, he pulls out another.

: ̗̀➛ swearing

↳ DNI if you interact with rape porn/noncon, proship, profic, DDNE/dead dove, etc. stay the fuck away from me <3

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Pop music was playing over the radio, much to Gaz's disdain as he shoved his hands in his pockets and scanned the shelves with his eyes; he did his best not to grumble and shake his head, hearing Robbie Williams' 'Candy' play loudly throughout the building. It was a headache, honestly, and he could not stand it.

It was a shame, really, as he looked up and down the shelves trying to find the right object he was looking for. He did it every time he returned from active duty, always concealing it behind his back as a surprise even though he was an awful liar when it came to you.

Last time it was a triceratops, before that Basil Brush. Now he was torn between an otter and a bison. It was true that Gaz did prefer to pick out the softer and fluffier ones for you, just as you always did prefer to pick out the more realistic and coarse ones for him.

You knew each other far too well, although you still knew that there was no one in the world you were more fond of, and no one in the world that you would have rather been stuck with for life.

Gaz knew that well, a small smile coming to his face as he paused and gently picked up the otter; it's brown faux fur was soft to the touch, and its big round eyes made it look like it was the happiest little thing in the world.

He nodded, content enough with his choice before he tossed it into the shopping basket and continued his round throughout the shop; again, Gaz paused.

Although this time he was surrounded by an abundance of flowers of pink and blue and orange and white and... and in the far corner, hidden amongst some roses and some thistled, a perfectly full-yellow bunch of daffodils.

Gaz grinned, licking his lips as he picked them up and admired them.

Every petal was a gorgeous, vibrant, almost golden colour that seemed to glisten and gleam beneath the flourescent lights; the stigma and style were the same colour, fading into a softer greenish yellow towards the filament and anthers.

Sitting atop bright green stems, they looked so proud that even the see-through plastic covering at the bottom could not take away from it.

Slowly and carefully, Gaz laid the bunch of flowers in the basket, humming softly to himself in content; you always got him flowers, every Thursday and every Sunday, and yet he could rarely return the favour. He grabbed a second bunch, if only to make up for some lost time at least.

Still, he continued onto the next aisle, picking up a packet of good biscuits, a box of his favourite teabags, a jar of your favourite coffee and, most importantly out of the lot, a card for you.

Gaz was quick to head to the self checkout, hands shaking as he hastily scanned every item before paying and bagging it all up, practically bolting out of the shop and towards his car.

He nearly dropped the fucking keys before he managed to get in, grinning and tugging at his seat belt so hard that it stalled.

But still, with the shopping bag in the back seat, Gaz was giddy; putting on his usual playlist, which was a mix of Cannibal Corpse and Infant Annihilator and Sabaton among some others. Singing along loudly as he followed the familiar roads that he knew all so well.

Gaz knew that he was home again, he knew that the winding roads and the gentle breeze and the driveway he had painted black all meant that he was home at last. He paused for a moment once he parked the car, looking at the house with a big smile on his face.

Just a few metres and he would be home properly, and he would not have to leave. He felt his shoulders shoulders slump when he picked up the bag, locking the car and opening the front door; his jaw stopped clenching when he entered the house and saw you there.

You grinned, opening your arms as you beckoned him forward. "Hi, baby."

Gaz grinned as he hid the bag behind his back, closing the distance and softly kissing your cheek as you put your hands on the sides of his shoulders. "Good morning, darling."

You licked your lips, pulling away from him slightly so that you could hold his face in your hands. "You're home."

He nodded, slowly blinking as he hummed ever so quietly under his breath. "I'm home now, for good... and I got you these."

He pushed the bag gently against you, giddy as he waited for you to take the flowers out; with the bag on the kitchen side, you admired the pretty yellow petals for a moment, taking a long sniff as you closed your eyes and nodded.

"Oh, Kyle, they're gorgeous..."

"Gorgeous flowers for the most handsome person I know," he mused. "And there's some for you, too, of course."

You rolled your eyes fondly, shaking your head. "I can't believe you got me flowers..."

"I saw 'em and immediately thought of you," he said softly. "I know they're your favourite, anyway."

You took another sniff of the flowers, trying not to laugh loudly. "I fucking love you so much... I can't believe you actually bought flowers..."

"You get me flowers all the time," Gaz chuckled softly. "It's about time I paid it back a little, don't you think?"

You could only smile as you shook your head. "Y'know, Gaz, just when I think you're done with surprises... you always pull something about."

Gaz shrugged, taking the opportunity to pull his phone out; he opened up the camera app, held it steady, and took the picture before you could stop him. "And you just provided me with a new wallpaper."

"You're terrible," you laughed softly, daring to close the distance and kiss his cheek softly. "I love you."

[aethertownusa]

Anyhow here is a scene in the kind of super-expensive poster shop I have been so often in. How much of my life have I spent discussing frames, looking at frames, holding up frame samples, asking what else could be ordered, watching framers ... anyhow this is the late 80s and that's how come the Xerox

Jacob was in a high-end poster shop in Chicago. Some of the posters cost as much as posters. Some cost as much as art. They hung from poles like carpets and stood in giant book-shaped displays mounted on the walls and lay in steel racks along the floor, protected by plastic.

The man who was probably the shop owner was about to talk to Jacob. He had his hands linked on top of the counter and was leaning just a little forward. Thirties, maybe. “Can I help you find anything?” the man asked.

“Not,” said Jacob, gently tapping through the posters, an airy feeling. “Just yet.”

Huge 1950s marquee ads, orange-faced men with lines around their mouths; Japanese cartoons in pink and teal, girls in spacey tracksuits, Japanese letters smacking all over the place, nice-looking; Matisse dancers; ladies at Picasso’s spa; big crazy monk holding a skull.

Jacob enjoyed the Dvorak on the sound system. He did not enjoy the happy, subtle attention of the man, who knew with some extra sense that Jacob was going to ask for his help. Jacob gave in to the inevitible.

“I’ll tell you what I’m looking for,” he said, coming up in a graceful and maybe too-quick half-circle to the counter, his habitual speed. The man was a little wowed. His fingers parted. “I want a poster of a David Hockney painting. I don’t know what it’s called. Young guy, no pants, lying down on a bed.”

“Oh, I know what you mean,” said the man. “Yes. Hold on.” The man looked through a thick cheaply-papered book, little black-and-white photos beside alphebatized names. An industry manual. He found what he was looking for.

“‘The Room, Tarzana’, 1967. That’s a beautiful painting.” He turned the book to Jacob, and Jacob could see, furry and gray and almost indecipherable, the painting which he remembered clearly but had sort of felt he had dreamed up.

“That’s it,” said Jacob. “Can you get ahold of it?”

“Certainly, certainly. I’ll have to order it in,” he looked at Jacob for the okay.

The man made conversation with Jacob as he tick-tacked information into a computer. “I remember, God, it has to be ten years ago now, seeing this phenomenal Hockney show at the MoMA in New York. I’d never heard of him, but I thought right away, This fellow is something special. I just knew it right away. You know how that happens sometimes with somebody really unique. The clouds just open up. Would you like to have us frame your poster?”

In a great flourescent back room they looked at triangles of frames together. “Yellow,” Jacob said. “A little bit of contrast.” The yellow he chose was bright as fake lemon. Plastic frame, simple-edged. Fashionable. “I like the way you think,” said the man.

Back at his computer, the man asked, “Are you a decorator, by any chance?”

“Oh, no,” said Jacob. “No, this is a gift.” Jacob wanted to say something. The desire was sudden and came at him hard, from inside, into the back of his lips. Maybe it was all those Japanese space girls. So he said it. “It’s for my boyfriend.”

The man looked at him with delight. “What a charming gift,” he said. “What a charming gift.”

Jacob paid an enormous sum. He took a chance, gave the man his Texas address for shipping. The man gave Jacob a Xeroxed promise that the framed poster would arrive within the month in one piece. “And may it bring you and your boyfriend many days of joy,” he said, with the Xerox, smiling.

Jacob laughed at the blessing as he moved muggily along Diversey, but he catalogued it, too. He put it in a rack in a floor in his mind. You don’t get too many explicit benedictions. You’ve got to keep them safe.

[rjalker]

here's a link to Hauntlight in Hero Forge...sorta. Hero Forge is lacking a lot of options.

"https://www.heroforge.com/load_config%3D512931406/"

Some clothes for it to wear in its anthropomorphized form. Pretend that's a giant eyeball on the face. Hero Forge doesn't have a cyclops option yet.

Flatland being Victorian, I assume ankles are likewise illegal

[ID: A cropped screenshot from HeroForge.com, showing a 3D character model with shiny ink black skin, leaning on a flourescent orange and yellow cane with its other hand on its hip, wearing a dress of dark and medium brown, with a two-layered skirt that reaches to the ground, and long sleeves. Its face has no mouth, eyes, or nose, but is orange with a black stripe down the center to mimic a single giant eye. End ID.]

You can see all my posts about hauntlight in chronological order here:

"https://rjalker.tumblr.com/tagged/hauntlight%20the%20irregular%20line/chrono"

[physsting]

CW: Starvation, force feeding, lady whumper, slightly animalistic whumpee, it as a pronoun, institutionalized slavery

First time posting! Please let me know if I missed a tag or warning. This is my first time writing a nameless MC, so let me know how it goes over, hope you enjoy!

@kim-poce (You mentioned a while ago that people could tag you in things, hopefully this guy isn't too animal-like for you)

Edit: so, uh, I only posted the first 600 words or so the first time aroud. Its 2k now. Riperoni.

Something crouched in the shadows next to the dumpster, presing itself against the rotten metal, eyes darting from point to point. It trembled slightly in the cold, the soiled rags clinging to its body doing nothing to protect against the night air. Another dumpster sat in the dingy yellow glow of a streetlamp across the road. The thing's stomach growled.

It pushed off the dumpster, tentatively taking a few steps forward, head cocked into the wind as it moved. Caution gave way to desperation before it made it to the sidewalk. The thing burst into a lolloping run, gaze fixed on the dumpster ahead. It only saw the oncoming lights an instant before it heard the squealing screech, both a half a second before a great force slammed into its shoulder, sending the world into black.

…..

It next noticed antiseptic stinging it's nose. It frowned, bordering on a snarl. Harsh light burned its eyes, and the grating hum of flourescent lights worked its way into its brain. Its body ached, claws of pain wrapped around its shoulder and down through its ribs. It shifted, letting out a soft whine as the injuries shifted too.

A door closed somewhere nearby. It gasped and shifted back, measuring its breathing to approximate sleep and straining its ears. Several seconds passed before it heard the footsteps, light and quick and squeaking against the tile. The thing bled all the tension from its limbs, sinking down against the hard ground, breathing evenly. The footsteps stopped nearby, and it had just enough time to hope there was another one in the next stall over before a rattling cage door put an end to it.

It didn't know how deeply it had been sleeping, if the rattling alone would have been enough to wake it up or if it needed to wait until it was touched. Waking right up and jumping to it's knees all ready to please would be the "correct" thing to do.

The footsteps entered the cage and took three steps towards him before stopping and kneeling.

"Hey there, sweetheart," she cooed. It tensed despite itself, at once knowing the jig was up and yet unable to open its eyes to face the sweet lie dripping from the human's enemy. She tried a couple more times, rubbing its arm to wake it up. Eventually she let out a sigh and unzipped a bag.

A burst of pain lit up its calf. The thing yelped and curled further into itself. The pain wasn't all that bad, an uncomfortable vibration turned just this side of too much. The memories it brought of the blue buzzing pressed to the soft flesh of its belly or cheek were much worse.

The human was cooing at it again, the tone washing over it more than the words. Soft hands held its arm and hip. It flinched away, muscles beginning to tremble. It's lip wobbled, its nose prickled, a tear threatened to fall -

At once, it took control of its mind like one would throw down a sheep for shearing. It grit its teeth and let out a deep growl as it opened its eyes and lunged upwards to a crouch.

The human scrambled several steps backwards, hand raised. It eyed her over its knees, huffing deep breaths against the screaming pain of it's injuries. She moved slowly, eyes darting away just long enough to take the handles of her doctor's bag. It shifted as she took a tentative step towards the cage door, the two circling each other with locked eyes until their positions reversed. Her movements were slow until the door unlatched, at once rushing through the doorway and slamming it behind her. The thing only thought to make a break for it when the opening was nearly closed, only succeeding in slamming into the chain link door with a loud rattle and sending the human running down the hallway.

...

"You're recommending him for euthanasia?" The shelter foreman tossed the nurse's report down on his desk. It was short, most of the text covered by a photo of the pet. It was crouched in its cage, scowling at the camera. The position was similar to many of the pets that came through the council shelter, but something about it was different. Ready to strike rather than curled in fear. He'd spent the last several days curled against the back wall of the cage, eyeing and growling at anyone who came close.

The foreman scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. The no-kill shelter was a cornerstone of the mayor's last election campaign. Constituents couldn't stand the thought of sweet little pets being put down before they could find good homes, nevermind the fact that most pets that ended up without owners were faulty. Best case scenario, the one person in town with the resources to provide for one specific pet happens to wander into the shelter at the right time. Worst case scenario was sitting in Kennel 12.

The shelter had managed to orchestrate events so that no pet was put down while under their care. It was unlikely that they could even get Kennel 12 into the van, much less convince the next jurisdiction over to take him.

The nurse waited on the other side of the desk, knowing what the eventual response would be but letting the foreman come to the conclusion himself. After a moment, the man sighed. "Do whatever you need to, get him to cooperate."

...

The thing curled up against the back wall of its cage. The corner would be more comfortable, but Pets were in the cages on either side and it couldn't bring itself to curl up that close to them. They whispered to each other, silvery rasps that filled the air as soon as the lights went out. It didn't try to understand them; none of them were addressed its way, and the sound itself was beginning to drive it crazy. Sometimes the whispering would get too loud, fill its brain and bounce around its mind in endless overlapping echoes, and it would let out a desperate sound loud enough to drown out the noise. The whispering would quiet, and the thing could fall back into a fitfull sleep.

Mornings came with thin sunlight filtering through the high narrow windows near the ceiling, beams slanting down to the caged below. The filthy thing huddled away from the beams, curled in the shadows as they surrendered to the light, its brain filled with danger danger danger. When the light finally snuffed out the darkness, the thing buried its face in its knees and wished so much to be invisible that it might one day come true.

Meals were difficult. Twice a day, someone came down the hallway with a cart and slid the trays of food under the cage doors. The Pets around him came eagerly for it, some greeting the person and others waiting for them to leave before diving headfirst into their tray. Some ate it directly off the ground, some used their hands. The thing in the shadows didn't know what it would do; it just wanted to eat. The cart came too late and too early, the metal tray shining in the slanted beam of the sunlight. The hidden thing tried to force itself to move, to convince the wild part of its mind that the others were behind bars where they couldn't attack it for taking a meal. That it was already caught and the shadows were useless now.

That part of itself refused to be swayed.

...

The thing's body was trembling. It never stopped. The guard dogs standing over it would have been enough to send a tremor through its body to begin with, but add on the hunger and the thing's teeth were all but knocking together. It was so weak. It doubted it could run fast enough to escape the dogs, much less fight them off. The human stepped in front of them, showing her teeth. She knelt and slid a tub of grey mush across the ground. The thing flinched, pressing impossibly further against the wall.

"It's okay, its food," she cooed. It tore its eyes away from the guards long enough to glance down at the tub. It seemed food-like enough. It was so hungry that anything that might fill its belly would be sufficient. It uncurled a hand and reached towards-

NO!

The thing let out a whimper and snatched its hand back against its chest. Danger danger danger. It squeezed its eyes shut, tears leaking out the corners. No, no no no. The human sighed. A second passed before rough hands tore it out of its protective ball, away from the safety of wall. It screamed, in fear and in pain. It kicked and clawed weakly at the iron grips of the guard dogs as they threw it to the floor and pinned it there. They each had a hand on its shoulder and a hand on it's wrists, rendering its arms useless. Grunts and whimpers fell from its lips as it struggled, barely moving an inch.

The thing froze as the nurse came into view. She knelt down at its side and took the lid off the tub. She pulled out a funnel, and the animal started to scream through clenched teeth. She reached towards its face slowly, almost in slow motion. It turned its face away, away, into the floor into the arms of the guards anywhere, anywhere to escape. Her fingers curled around its jaw and forced it's mouth to open, the scream briefly ringing in the air before the funnel muffled it once more. A ridge clicked behind its teeth and wouldn't budge no matter how hard it pushed against it with its tongue. A limp tube slid down into its throat. It choked and wrenched its head this way and that to dislodge the intrusion. The nurse held the wide end and began to pour.

It inhaled once and felt the mush enter its lungs. It writhed on the ground, coughing and hacking to expell it. The nurse paused her pouring until it managed to take in a deep shuttering breath. When the mush hit the back of its throat again, the thing was careful to swallow. It slowly stopped its fighting and settled for weak crying, tears cutting lines down the sides of its head, some small part of it so, so grateful for the meal.

[petit-papillion]

About the Charles Leclerc wristband situation... the flourescent yellow wristband is a paper wristband, of the sort I'd expect to denote access level (most likely, the gridwalk access due to being on the grid at the time). The photo is amusing because it makes him look like the only one there who *wasn't* famous enough to dispense with the requirement...

Okay, I did some ridiculously excessive digging into this, but am none the wiser.

On Saturday when he first shows up he is wearing 3 wristbands: a neon yellow one, a gold one and a fabric gold/white one. The latter I have not seen on anyone else.

The gold one appears to be the Gridwalk one, as soon here on a Ferrari crew member:

It's worn by Antonio Fuoco, and Joris also is seen still wearing it on Sunday. Andrea, however, has a different blue one, which I also did not seen on anyone else. Charles is not wearing any wristbands on Sunday.

There are a couple of sightings of another neon yellow wristband (which Charles ends up wearing well into the night), mostly one Saturday, but also one on Sunday. Haven't been able to find a photo that shows what it was for.

I also tried to see what Lorenzo and Alexandra had on their wrists, but alas, no luck there (long sleeves, wrists out of sight). I did find this lovely picture of a Lefrères moment though:

By the way, he did have a pass, as seen in the picture with Antonio and Miguel:

But just like when he's in the F1 paddock, he wasn't wearing it, and probably had it tucked in his pants' pocket. I doubt anyone dared to ask him to whip it out to identify himself while he was being ushered around by a swarm of Ferrari people through throngs of fans...

[jupitercl0uds-art]

I WENT TO HOBBYCRAFT AND USED UP THE 20-ODD QUID I HAD ON MY GIFT CARD AND STILL HAD TO PAY ABOUT £20 BUT ITS OK BECAUSE I GOT:

3 A4 canvases

some actually good brushes for watercolour (all of my brushes are suited for acrylic and can never hold a point in watercolour)

3 MORE TUBES OF FLOURESCENT ACRYLIC!!!!!!!!

i have neon red, yellow and blue now, as well as the green and pink i already had (yes i like splatoon)!!!

[fagboyfriend]

i sold this painting earlier this week, and i somehow in all that time forgot to get a high quality photo, so i thought id share this process video for now.

[Video Description:

A tiktok sixteen seconds in length. The background music is the song ‘Snake Song’ by Gaze.

An ink painting of two men in bed is washed over with flourescent yellow ink, deepining the color. In the painting, they lie in a pink, sunken bed. One man, a thinner east asian person with long orange hair, stretches his arms out, his bare legs straight up in the air. His partner, a brown man with choppy brown hair, leans over him, grasping their hands together.

end Video Description.]

[textinwho]

ONE SENTENCE “FAVOURITE WORST NIGHTMARE” by ARCTIC MONKEYS PROMPTS

BRIANSTORM

•  “And she's not aware yet, but she's yours.”

TEDDY PICKER

•  "Who'd want to be men of the people when there's people like you?”

D IS FOR DANGEROUS

•  “I think you should know you're his favourite worst nightmare.”

BALACLAVA

•  “You knew that it'd be trouble right before the very first kiss.”

FLOURESCENT ADOLESCENT

•  “Now when she's told she's gonna get it, I'm guessing that she'd rather just forget it.”

ONLY ONES WHO KNOW

•  “And I bet she told a million people that she'd stay in touch. But all the little promises, they don't mean much.”

DO ME A FAVOUR

•  “And I watched and I waited till she was inside, forcing a smile and waving goodbye.”

THIS HOUSE IS A CIRCUS

•  “And we're struggling with the notion that it's life, not film.”

IF YOU WERE THERE, BEWARE

•  “Why leave her on her own? If I predicted tears then I wouldn't have said it.”

THE BAD THING

•  “Do the bad thing, take off your wedding ring. But it won't make it that much easier, it might make it worse.”

OLD YELLOW BRICKS

•  “Who wants to sleep in a city that never wakes up, blinded by nostalgia?”

505

•  “I'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck.”

 made by textinwho

[pansyfemme]

top 5 colours ? u seem like you would have a top 5 colours

i do indeed, though it shifts very frequently (honestly, within the hour.) . my general favorite color is ‘yellow’ but if you want to get into it, here are some all timers:

-flourescent red (holbein acryla gouache luminous red is my fave paint color EVER.)

-ultramarine violet

-Pthalo green (blue shade)

-Vermillion

-Bismuth Yellow

[samssolutions]

Fire ReTardant Coverall 320 GSM EUROPEAN STYLE

With 2 Inches Dual Tone (Grey/Flourescent Yellow) FR Reflective Tape 11 REFLECTIVE TAPES 4 Reflective Tapes On Sleeves 4 Reflective Tapes On Leg 2 Reflective Tapes On Shoulder 1 Reflective Tape On Waist Sanforized / Mercerized

APPLICATIONS & PROPERTIES : Welding, Heat & Limited Flame Spread, Electrostatic Properties COLORS : NAVY BLUE / KHAKI / ORANGE / RED / ROYAL BLUE