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Sep. 15th, 2010 10:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dugindeepTitle: That Time Jensen Hated Lucida
Words: 1,000ish
Background: Over here I offered up timestamps, wrote a bunch, then got stalled with sleep and work and RL. Finally writing for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
akintay, Why I'm Talking to You Verse, something with them being engaged.
Note: To preface this, I'm kind of a font snob when I'm on the clock. Having to design and layout marketing stuff, my boss and I mock many, many typefaces at work, relying on only a few trusted kinds. I figure, as a marketing person, Jensen would, too. So this was born from that, and inspired by this, which makes me LOL constantly. I'm pretty sure Jensen would write that note.
Weekends in the office aren’t unusual, have been pretty typical for years now. As he has for the last five Saturdays, Jensen arms himself with the tallest of the tall coffees at his favorite coffee house, coasts through the hallways of his office, and sets up shop at his desk. Paperwork covers every inch of the surface. Color swatches and font families are pinned together to show the best combinations possible. And Tom and Kristen stand before him, two- by three-foot boards showing off the best graphics possible.
Watching intently, Jensen dips his head down, chin hiding in the high, zipped collar of his sweater, glasses perched mid-nose so his eyes can see clearly then zip above the frames and stare at the designers. “I hate Papyrus,” he says flatly. His eyes run between Tom and Kristen. “You know this. Seven years now. You know I hate Papyrus.”
“Yeah, but it’s a very earthy typeface,” Tom quickly replies, fingers following the edge of the words across the top of the board. “In the right tone and position, it can show great depth and character.”
Jensen stares, not saying a word. It carries on long enough that it gets uncomfortable.
“Next one?” Kristen suggests.
The moment’s alleviated when Jensen looks down to his coffee and sips, so Kristen quickly shuffles boards around.
Except with one glance at the board, he coughs, spitting coffee over the lip of his cup. He sputters forward to keep the coffee away from his grey sweater or jeans. Shaking his head and wiping at his chin, he grumbles before making a coherent complaint. “Brush Script? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s elegant yet unpretentious,” Kristen offers with a cheery smile.
“Did you make this in Microsoft Word?” he complains loudly, eyes wide and eyebrows up high. “You’re seriously giving me default fonts?”
“Well, no,” Tom argues before getting cut off.
“What’s next? Comic Sans? Franklin Gothic? No, I know, Tempus Sans. Christ.”
Tom and Kristen share a look then hurry to switch boards around and he gets a flash of more disgustingly oversimplified, overused fonts.
“This ain’t a lemonade stand, guys,” he sighs, still angry but not as loud.
“Everything okay?” Jared asks as he enters Jensen’s office and smiles at the two fidgety designers. Crossing the room, he yanks his messenger bag up and over his head then drops into the arm chair beside Jensen, the bag set between Jared’s legs. “What’m I missin’?”
“The designs for our tree house,” Jensen mumbles, glaring at the designs on display in front of them; dozens of boards hitched to multiple easels; sketches he’s now afraid to view.
“It got a tire swing? Always wanted one but Dad couldn’t find one big enough for the Padalecki boys.”
Jensen turns to Jared and can’t help how everything tight on his face smoothes out with the ease of Jared’s voice and smile. How with Jared just being right next to him, he can forget the atrocities of font types and badly mixed colors.
As Jensen listens to Jared ramble on about the treehouse his father built when he was six, Tom removes one board to unveil another and Jensen snaps to attention.
“Oh, come on!” he shouts. “Is that olive Lucida? You’re giving me Lucida Handwriting?”
“Okay,” Tom mumbles as he tugs the offending design away and shows another.
Jensen doesn’t lighten up on his disgusted look but he doesn’t complain more, prompting Kristen to remove a board from her easel.
“Salmon?” Jensen laughs haughtily and stands. He walks to the back of his desk and waves his coffee cup towards them. “Okay, I hate this phrase, but get out and go back to the drawing board. Seriously. You’re making me sick.” Tom and Kristen struggle in gathering the boards and Jensen fights to not roll his eyes. “Leave ‘em. Maintenance can take them out.”
They leave with a nod, Jensen watching their path out the door before he sighs and actually does roll his eyes. He sits in his high-back office chair and spins it enough to stare out the wall of windows overlooking the bay a few blocks away. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jared slipping a hand through his hair, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head while watching him. “What?” Jensen asks quietly.
“It’s just an invitation,” Jared offers kindly.
“It’s our invitation.”
“Why don’t we just used Dani’s wedding planner.”
Jensen snorts then spins his chair back to face Jared. “We are.” At Jared’s confused look, Jensen says, “I did her invitations with Tom and Kristen.”
Jared looks and sounds impressed. “They were really nice.”
“I know,” Jensen says with a fond smile, shaking his head.
“So, why don’t you design ‘em yourself?”
“Like I don’t have enough to do?”
“I’m telling you. Let someone else plan the wedding.”
Jensen pulls his glasses off, tossing them onto his desk and rubbing at his eyes with tight fists. “It’s not even that. It’s everything else, too. The Murphy’s are looking to buy out Synergy and it means a new campaign.”
“Since when?”
“Since last month? It’s still not official, but we’re already planning it.”
Jared leans forward, elbows to his knees and hands clamped together. “Jensen,” he says, warm and soft. “Let someone else do the print stuff.”
Jensen watches Jared, taking in the kind eyes doing their best to convince Jensen to actually delegate work. Jensen shivers with the thought, at the image of handing over responsibility for the invites, programs, menus, thank you cards, everything he wants full control of.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We end up with Book Antiqua.”
“What?” Jared asks oddly.
“It’s atrocious, trust me.”
“I love you,” Jared chuckles. “But you’re an odd duck.”
“A horrible, horrible font,” Jensen explains with a small smile.
“I believe you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Jared looks over his shoulder, eyes taking in the spread of condensed, black, and bold fonts on the boards to be discarded. “Whatever we end up with, it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Jensen half-heartedly agrees.
“I mean, it’ll still have our names on it. And that’s pretty impressive.”
Jensen laughs, can’t not, and then warmly smiles at Jared. “You have a point.”
Words: 1,000ish
Background: Over here I offered up timestamps, wrote a bunch, then got stalled with sleep and work and RL. Finally writing for
akintay, Why I'm Talking to You Verse, something with them being engaged.Note: To preface this, I'm kind of a font snob when I'm on the clock. Having to design and layout marketing stuff, my boss and I mock many, many typefaces at work, relying on only a few trusted kinds. I figure, as a marketing person, Jensen would, too. So this was born from that, and inspired by this, which makes me LOL constantly. I'm pretty sure Jensen would write that note.
Weekends in the office aren’t unusual, have been pretty typical for years now. As he has for the last five Saturdays, Jensen arms himself with the tallest of the tall coffees at his favorite coffee house, coasts through the hallways of his office, and sets up shop at his desk. Paperwork covers every inch of the surface. Color swatches and font families are pinned together to show the best combinations possible. And Tom and Kristen stand before him, two- by three-foot boards showing off the best graphics possible.
Watching intently, Jensen dips his head down, chin hiding in the high, zipped collar of his sweater, glasses perched mid-nose so his eyes can see clearly then zip above the frames and stare at the designers. “I hate Papyrus,” he says flatly. His eyes run between Tom and Kristen. “You know this. Seven years now. You know I hate Papyrus.”
“Yeah, but it’s a very earthy typeface,” Tom quickly replies, fingers following the edge of the words across the top of the board. “In the right tone and position, it can show great depth and character.”
Jensen stares, not saying a word. It carries on long enough that it gets uncomfortable.
“Next one?” Kristen suggests.
The moment’s alleviated when Jensen looks down to his coffee and sips, so Kristen quickly shuffles boards around.
Except with one glance at the board, he coughs, spitting coffee over the lip of his cup. He sputters forward to keep the coffee away from his grey sweater or jeans. Shaking his head and wiping at his chin, he grumbles before making a coherent complaint. “Brush Script? Are you kidding me?”
“It’s elegant yet unpretentious,” Kristen offers with a cheery smile.
“Did you make this in Microsoft Word?” he complains loudly, eyes wide and eyebrows up high. “You’re seriously giving me default fonts?”
“Well, no,” Tom argues before getting cut off.
“What’s next? Comic Sans? Franklin Gothic? No, I know, Tempus Sans. Christ.”
Tom and Kristen share a look then hurry to switch boards around and he gets a flash of more disgustingly oversimplified, overused fonts.
“This ain’t a lemonade stand, guys,” he sighs, still angry but not as loud.
“Everything okay?” Jared asks as he enters Jensen’s office and smiles at the two fidgety designers. Crossing the room, he yanks his messenger bag up and over his head then drops into the arm chair beside Jensen, the bag set between Jared’s legs. “What’m I missin’?”
“The designs for our tree house,” Jensen mumbles, glaring at the designs on display in front of them; dozens of boards hitched to multiple easels; sketches he’s now afraid to view.
“It got a tire swing? Always wanted one but Dad couldn’t find one big enough for the Padalecki boys.”
Jensen turns to Jared and can’t help how everything tight on his face smoothes out with the ease of Jared’s voice and smile. How with Jared just being right next to him, he can forget the atrocities of font types and badly mixed colors.
As Jensen listens to Jared ramble on about the treehouse his father built when he was six, Tom removes one board to unveil another and Jensen snaps to attention.
“Oh, come on!” he shouts. “Is that olive Lucida? You’re giving me Lucida Handwriting?”
“Okay,” Tom mumbles as he tugs the offending design away and shows another.
Jensen doesn’t lighten up on his disgusted look but he doesn’t complain more, prompting Kristen to remove a board from her easel.
“Salmon?” Jensen laughs haughtily and stands. He walks to the back of his desk and waves his coffee cup towards them. “Okay, I hate this phrase, but get out and go back to the drawing board. Seriously. You’re making me sick.” Tom and Kristen struggle in gathering the boards and Jensen fights to not roll his eyes. “Leave ‘em. Maintenance can take them out.”
They leave with a nod, Jensen watching their path out the door before he sighs and actually does roll his eyes. He sits in his high-back office chair and spins it enough to stare out the wall of windows overlooking the bay a few blocks away. From the corner of his eye, he can see Jared slipping a hand through his hair, awkwardly scratching at the back of his head while watching him. “What?” Jensen asks quietly.
“It’s just an invitation,” Jared offers kindly.
“It’s our invitation.”
“Why don’t we just used Dani’s wedding planner.”
Jensen snorts then spins his chair back to face Jared. “We are.” At Jared’s confused look, Jensen says, “I did her invitations with Tom and Kristen.”
Jared looks and sounds impressed. “They were really nice.”
“I know,” Jensen says with a fond smile, shaking his head.
“So, why don’t you design ‘em yourself?”
“Like I don’t have enough to do?”
“I’m telling you. Let someone else plan the wedding.”
Jensen pulls his glasses off, tossing them onto his desk and rubbing at his eyes with tight fists. “It’s not even that. It’s everything else, too. The Murphy’s are looking to buy out Synergy and it means a new campaign.”
“Since when?”
“Since last month? It’s still not official, but we’re already planning it.”
Jared leans forward, elbows to his knees and hands clamped together. “Jensen,” he says, warm and soft. “Let someone else do the print stuff.”
Jensen watches Jared, taking in the kind eyes doing their best to convince Jensen to actually delegate work. Jensen shivers with the thought, at the image of handing over responsibility for the invites, programs, menus, thank you cards, everything he wants full control of.
“What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We end up with Book Antiqua.”
“What?” Jared asks oddly.
“It’s atrocious, trust me.”
“I love you,” Jared chuckles. “But you’re an odd duck.”
“A horrible, horrible font,” Jensen explains with a small smile.
“I believe you.”
“No, you don’t.”
Jared looks over his shoulder, eyes taking in the spread of condensed, black, and bold fonts on the boards to be discarded. “Whatever we end up with, it’ll be fine.”
“Yeah,” Jensen half-heartedly agrees.
“I mean, it’ll still have our names on it. And that’s pretty impressive.”
Jensen laughs, can’t not, and then warmly smiles at Jared. “You have a point.”
