Can you see me now?

[trinityofone]

ETA: All right, I think I get the general picture. Y'all can stop torturing yourselves now. (And thank you to those who already did!)

Okay, I'm trying to do something cool (read: dorky) with fonts for my Urban Legend Challenge, due tomorrow. The only problem is, I'm afraid that all the shiny pretty fonts that are showing up for me won't be visible for you. So I'd really appreciate it if you'd do me a favor and fill out this



First, take a look at the following sentences. Then fill out the poll.

1. Courier makes essays longer BY MAGIC!
2. Hey, this font is sort of...rakish.
3. And this one's sort of fruity. (Oh God, I just made a font pun.)
4. I like to walk on the beach, but I'm afraid to do more than wade.
5. In my adolescence, I used this font a lot. That says bad things.
6. I'm totally running out of clever things to say.
7. Um, not that I had anything all that clever to say in the first place.
8. Sometimes I'm afraid that my fandom legacy is going to be lesbian ponies.
9. Or priest!kink. Or Canadian spies.
10. Actually, I'm pretty okay with that.

Okay, now in an ideal shiny perfect world, all of those would look different to you--from each other, and from the main text. Did they?

[Poll #681676]

Thank you, thank you, thank you to anybody who actually took the time to fill that horrendous thing out. Um. Now's probably not a good time to tell you that the story doesn't even have any sex in it, is it?

Comments

[birdsflying]

1 and 8 are pc systems fonts, so everyone will have them - the others won't show unless the viewer has them installed on their systems.

Suggested way of getting around this: do small graphics where needed and include the actual text in the image alt tags? I can probably do the code side for you, if you want.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Really? That would be great. (I don't really understand what it means/how it works, but it sounds good, so yay!) So do you just need me to send you the final version at some point today?

*fails at technology*

[birdsflying]

where would it be posted? To lj? I'd just need the text you want in the different fonts and the names of thefonts (or the font files, if possible) - the text might be a little different in size but it's the only way I can think of to do the font changes that will work for everyone.

will also be sending you my beta file soon, hopefully - been running errands for my flatmate and suddenly half the day has gone.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I was going to post to LJ, but if it would be easier, I could try posting to my Shiny New Website instead.

I can send you a copy of the .html I used in my post, which should have all the fonts listed where they're supposed to go. How would I go about sending you the font files?

Thanks for doing the beta. And man, I totally know what you mean about half the day being suddenly gone. Where'd it run off to?

[birdsflying]

well, it'll work for either, really. It's just a matter of background colours but I was going for white background and black text being probably the easiest visually.

Yeap, if you send me the html file, I'll see if I either have the fonts (I don't install all my fonts) or if I can track it down. If I can't, I'll send you an email with how to get the font file.

I really don't know where the day has gone. It's suddenly 3pm and I have to haul arse to work in 30 minutes where I will write my lecture notes, research for my next essay and do image-y things. Oh for a time-turner.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I e-mailed you. But let me reiterate: I am very stupid and confused about this whole process, so please let me know what, if anything, you need me to do. I don't want to dump too much work on you!

And God, yes: a time-turner. Please, please, please.

*races off to the library*

[siria]

But I still liked the story, even with the no sex! I liked how it had a beginning and a middle and also, an end. *smiles inanely, scurries back to staring at essay*

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

You! Essay! Now!

But...a beginning, a middle, and also, an end? Really? *preens*

I want that fb on everything, always and forever.

[siria]

2283 words! I have no idea how I will hit 3000, NONE, because this essays sucks like a gigantic vacuum cleaner of suckiness. That much suckiness!

Also, because I keep drifting off and thinking of the dream I had last night where I brought Rodney on holiday with me to Rome. We spent hours wandering around the Forum while I talked inanely to him about the Curia and Roman Republican government; he just bitched and complained, because no matter how much suncream he applied, or how big of a dorky, floppy sunhat he wore, the tip of his nose still got sunburned.

He liked the gelato a lot. I liked watching him eat it.

I remember staring at his wrists a lot, too, because the bones in them fascinated me for some reason.

This is the dorky dream I keep thinking of when I should be writing on medieval moated sites. Hi!

I want that fb on everything, always and forever.

I promise that I shall use that line on everything from now on. *crosses fingers*

Ooh, and did you see how it was snowing earlier on, just a little bit? All melted now, alas.

Zelenka is my idol, as well you should know.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I MISSED THE SNOW AGAIN? *shakes fist* Damn you, Dublin!

Your dream sounds amazing and HOT. Rodney's wrists are totally fascinating. As is every other part of his anatomy, as we've discussed. And there should totally be a story about Rodney in Rome, wearing a dorky hat, eating gelato. And having sex with John.

At the Coliseum:

John: So...do you like gladiator movies, Rodney?
Rodney: Oh my God, there is really something wrong with you!
*beat*
Rodney: But, um, enough history! Let's go back to the hotel!

You will totally conquer your essay. Just add adjectives. That's what I always do.

Seriously, I wish I could help, but I know that in time, you will totally kick its ass. The essay will have a beginning, a middle, and also, an end. Of this, I have faith!

Oh, and speaking of Zelenka love, if you need a distraction later, would you be willing to look at his dialogue in the first briefing scene and make any suggestion as to how I could make it sound more like him? I added you to the filter, so you should be able to see it. I'm just not satisfied with it, dammit.

*goes back to trying to get John into leather pants*

[siria]

It was not, in honesty, a very large amount of snow. Just enough to make me say 'Ooh' and lean back in my chair and stare up at the skylight. It was all over in about fifteen minutes, though.

John and Rodney in Italy in general would just be hot like David Hewlett's ass. Ooh, and they could go to Florence, and since John had never been to Italy, and since he really wants to have a Proper Vacation, he insists on doing everything like a Proper Tourist. Rodney just wants to stay asleep in their penzione and eat gelato and drink proper coffee and maybe wander along the Arno in the evenings when the light isn't so clear and light on the water doesn't remind him so much of the seas around Atlantis.

But what he's nowhere near as persuasive as John, who drags him out of bed at six in the morning so that they can beat the queue at the gallery, and Rodney spends an hour standing in line, bitching about the cold until the sun comes up and warms that patch right between his shoulder blades, plus John buys him a (surprisingly good) coffee from one of the street vendors, so he shuts up (as much as he's capable of) and only murmurs a little at how outrageously expensive it is to get in.

And then John drags him around the rooms, one hand loosely clasped around Rodney's wrist, and Rodney's shivering even though it's warm in there and already filling up slowly with other tourists, only a little shiver, this little contraction of sensation, running up his arm whenever John starts talking in Italian about duocento and quattrocento. And he's trying his best to ignore it, but John's giving him these little side-long looks while they're walking down the galleria, and Rodney's blustering and tilting his head up to look at the statues that John's explaining to him, and complaining that John's clearly just memorised some guidebook to Florence in order to impress someone, and John just smiles and says "Is it working?" and that just makes Rodney open and shut his mouth until John grins and drags him into a room which is still empty.

Or something. Working on the essay! Honest!

The essay will have a beginning, a middle, and also, an end. Of this, I have faith!

From your mouth to God's ears, etc etc.

I will certainly go back and look at that part for you. I'll try to get some work done on this first, though.

*goes back to trying to get John into leather pants*

*quiet cry of hallelujah*

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

This is the best comment I have ever gotten. You know what? Fuck the essay: write this story!

Right. Not helping. Sorry.

[siria]

Do you know how pretty John would be in Italy? With his loose shirts, and his hair in the breeze, and the way his mouth would relax at the corners, and standing in the countryside that looks like it was painted with a child's paint box, and it would be so painfully bright that it would hurt Rodney's eyes to look at it? Mmm. Yes.

In conclusion: David Hewlett Essay.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Meep.

Now I'm picturing him standing on a dusty road, his jacket slung over his arm and his shirt open at the collar. And he's talking to someone, someone else, maybe a little old woman selling fruit, and Rodney stares at him, just stares--as you say, like a man squinting into the sun--and he knows: suddenly, he just knows.

And later, they're staying in these rooms with thick, cool walls, and a breeze is coming in off the Mediterranean, ruffling the long, white curtains, and John pauses in the doorway of Rodney's room, his features dusted in moonlight. Even in the darkness, Rodney thinks he can make out the individual hairs on John's arms, where the sleeves are loosely rolled, coiled around his tensed biceps, and--

and--

I don't know, back to you. I like yours better, anyway. It's potent.

[siria]

This, of course, is when they're staying near Genoa, right where green mountains tumble down, falling down into the calmer green of the sea. It's near to the city, but somehow, it's quiet and still on this stretch of the coast, and if Rodney closes his eyes and pretends, he can imagine that they're the only two people left. There's a certain kind of peace in that, but with everything Rodney knows, it's too, too easy to imagine, so he only ever does that once, just once.

He prefers to curl himself up in white cotton sheets, around and over John, and sleep in cool white bedrooms. But then in the mornings, always before the sun's up, when everything is still dim, dark, and John's eyes are still grey, John drags him out of bed (what, do you have some kind of fixation?) and up from their villa, up, up, the side of the mountain.

John sits down when they reach the top (or as close as they get, because Rodney might be the fittest he's ever been, but still, not exactly athlete material), legs flexed and stretched out on a bed of grass and wildflowers, tilts his head back and watches the sun come up. Rodney watches the line of John's throat.

Later, John produces a picnic basket (Rodney's never quite able to figure out how he pulled that one off, though he suspects that significant amounts (these words are underlined, in his head. twice) of charm were used on the women in the village) and there's breakfast. Rodney is making these happy little noises as he digs through the basket, and John's grinning, and it's warm and sunny, and the breeze is playing with John's hair, and if ever Rodney thinks he could forget about everything, just forget, it would be here.

John digs a peach out of the basket, curling his fingers around the sun-warmth of it for a moment before biting into the flesh. Rodney swallows once, twice, and he almost has to close his eyes again. Instead, he leans over and licks at the corner of John's mouth where some of the juice has spilled out.


Or something. I miss Tuscany. God, bad me. Essay. Essay!

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Oh my God. You can't do this to me. Peaches. Peaches. I'm a trained Prufrockian, I melt at peaches. And John watching the sun as Rodney watches John's throat...you can't keep doing this to me.

(Please keep doing this to me.)

[siria]

I thought you would appreciate the peaches. I appreciate the peaches. Rodney appreciates the peaches (because the juice is warm on John's skin, and Rodney can taste it, taste peaches and sweetness and John, knows the flavour of him, and he can feel his stomach tighten and his eyelashes flutter closed, and he leans in)

I really should resist the urge to continue writing meandering, self-indulgent crap and just finish this bloody essay. All I need is three to four hundred words of a conclusion, and yet I am stymied. *cries softly*

[wychwood]

Guh.

...I think you broke my feedback muscle.

(I'll write your conclusion! You just, um, get on with what you were doing!)

[siria]

Um. Thank you? I think. I did not mean to inflict pain and injury with my scribblings!

[wychwood]

:) Don't worry, I recovered very quickly...

Such lovely mental images as you were making, though. Mmmm.

[stellahobbit.livejournal.com]

You're story is pure sensuality. I'm getting goosebumps and more please!

Of course, when you finish your essay.

[siria]

Wow. Thank you. What a lovely compliment.

*eyes the essay as it prints off*

[birdsflying]

oh my god. oh my god. You need to write this. I just. Oh my god. I mean, totally write your essay first because I so shouldn't distract from that but uh, write it faster so you can write that fic. :g:

I am so helpful

[siria]

It would be kind of awesomely hot, if I could write well enough to do the idea justice. I'll add it to the queue, though. There are a couple of other things I should really finish, or Trin will kick my ass.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Yes, I will. I really, really will.

Or worse: you will have to see a grown girl beg.

[siria]

I'd beg for David Hewlett?

[eccentric-alex.livejournal.com]

Oh please. Both of you. Either of you. Write this write this please. For us poor cretins that have never been to Italy. Please please please. Oh and also because, damn, pretty pictures.

Additionally:

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I *heart* Zelenka.

[slashygood.livejournal.com]

Apart from 1 and 8, they're coming up identical fo r me, a Roman-type small font.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

D'oh! I feared as much. Why do the technologies hate me?

*scurries away to come up with a solution make megolas come up with a solution*

[farwing.livejournal.com]

Well...to my mostly untrained eye, 2, 5, 7, and 10 all look the same to me, and 6 doesn't look like anything special. I have a mac and use Safari. Does that help?

[godofwine.livejournal.com]

I am totally not even here about the quiz, but don't worry, I won't only remember you as the girl who wrote lesbian pony p0rn or priests. I guess the other stuff counts as well. ;)

[siria]

SNOW, TRIN. LOOK OUT YOUR WINDOW AT THE SNOW.

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

I just ran outside and stood around in it and took some pictures, because I am a lame-ass.

To be honest, it's one of the very cutest attempts at snow that I have ever seen--kind of like, "Aww, thanks for trying!" But the sun is shining, the sun is shining while it snows, and that is so pretty and...yeah. *happy sigh* Thanks for alerting me!

[siria]

Hee. Ireland is so lame when it comes to snow. I swear, everyone else in the library got up and ran over to the windows, and one girl said "Oh my god, it's a blizzard!" Pretty while it lasted, though.

[niennah.livejournal.com]

Hey! That was very exciting for Ireland! ;)

[trinityofone.livejournal.com]

Dude, I read "The Dead" a bunch of times before I left America, and OMG JAMES JOYCE TOTALLY LIED TO ME.

[niennah.livejournal.com]

More snow! Right now!

James Joyce lies. Or maybe they had more snow back then...

[dar-jeeling.livejournal.com]

Now's probably not a good time to tell you that the story doesn't even have any sex in it, is it?
Aww, man. *throws popcorn*
No, seriously, I am intrigued. Intrigued, I tell you!

[http://users.livejournal.com/_inbetween_/]

THEY ALL LOOK THE SAME.

*ignores 8 like she did all the while*