Post by GIRLONTHEMOVE on Oct 2, 2012 17:11:25 GMT -8
"Font color failing in posting boxes. Color is supposed to be #191919, but pops up as site default. I combed through the coding a gazillion times but I can't find anything wrong. If I could borrow someone else's eyes and they could figure this out, I would super super grateful! *^*
VERSION 1
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VERSION 2
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[tr][TD][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,1,true][atrb=style,width:300px; height:500px; background-color:#F4A460; padding:15px][atrb=Valign,top]
[TR][th][td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:50px; background-color:#F5DEB3; padding:5px]
[TR][th][td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:10px; padding:0px][atrb=align,center]
VERSION 1
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:450px; background-color:#F5DEB3; padding:10px] infect me with your love, fill me with your poison [atrb=Valign,bottom] | [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,1,true][atrb=style,width:300px; height:100px; background-color:#F4A460; padding:15px][atrb=Valign,top] At the top of the bank, close to the wild cherry where the blackbird sang, was a little group of holes almost hidden by brambles. In the green half-light, at the mouth of one of these holes, two rabbits were sitting together side by side. At length, the larger of the two came out, slipped along the bank under cover of the brambles and so down into the ditch and up into the field. A few moments later the other followed. The first rabbit stopped in a sunny patch and scratched his ear with rapid movements of his hind leg. Although he was a yearling and still below fall weight, he had not the harassed look of most "outskirters"' -- that is, the rank and file of ordinary rabbits in their first year who, lacking either aristocratic parentage or unusual size and strength, get sat on by their elders and live as best they can -- often in the open -- on the edge of their warren. He looked as though he knew how to take care of himself. There was a shrewd, buoyant air about him as he sat up, looked around and rubbed both front paws over his nose. As soon as he was satisfied that all was well, he laid back his ears and set to work on the grass. His companion seemed less at ease. He was small, with wide, staring eyes and a way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as a kind of ceaseless, nervous tension. His nose moved continually, and when a bumblebee flew humming to a thistle bloom behind him, he jumped and spun round with a start that sent two nearby rabbits scurrying for holes before the nearest, a buck with black-tipped ears, recognized him and returned to feeding. "Oh, it's only Fiver," said the black-tipped rabbit, "jumping at bluebottles again. Come on, Buckthorn, what were you telling me?" "Fiver?" said the other rabbit. "Why's he called that?" "Five in the litter, you know: he was the last -- and the smallest. You'd wonder nothing had got him by now. I always say a man couldn't see him and a fox wouldn't want him. Still, I admit he seems to be able to keep out of harm's way." |
| [td][cs=2][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:10px; padding:0px][atrb=align,center] CREAMSICLES loves her gangnam style ! |
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VERSION 2
| [td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:100px; background-color:#F5DEB3; padding:5px] INFECT ME WITH YOUR LOVE FILL ME WITH YOUR POISON [atrb=style,width:100px; height:50px; background-color:#F5DEB3; padding:10px] |
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[tr][TD][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,1,true][atrb=style,width:300px; height:500px; background-color:#F4A460; padding:15px][atrb=Valign,top]
At the top of the bank, close to the wild cherry where the blackbird sang, was a little group of holes almost hidden by brambles. In the green half-light, at the mouth of one of these holes, two rabbits were sitting together side by side. At length, the larger of the two came out, slipped along the bank under cover of the brambles and so down into the ditch and up into the field. A few moments later the other followed.
The first rabbit stopped in a sunny patch and scratched his ear with rapid movements of his hind leg. Although he was a yearling and still below fall weight, he had not the harassed look of most "outskirters"' -- that is, the rank and file of ordinary rabbits in their first year who, lacking either aristocratic parentage or unusual size and strength, get sat on by their elders and live as best they can -- often in the open -- on the edge of their warren. He looked as though he knew how to take care of himself. There was a shrewd, buoyant air about him as he sat up, looked around and rubbed both front paws over his nose. As soon as he was satisfied that all was well, he laid back his ears and set to work on the grass.
His companion seemed less at ease. He was small, with wide, staring eyes and a way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as a kind of ceaseless, nervous tension. His nose moved continually, and when a bumblebee flew humming to a thistle bloom behind him, he jumped and spun round with a start that sent two nearby rabbits scurrying for holes before the nearest, a buck with black-tipped ears, recognized him and returned to feeding.
"Oh, it's only Fiver," said the black-tipped rabbit, "jumping at bluebottles again. Come on, Buckthorn, what were you telling me?"
"Fiver?" said the other rabbit. "Why's he called that?"
"Five in the litter, you know: he was the last -- and the smallest. You'd wonder nothing had got him by now. I always say a man couldn't see him and a fox wouldn't want him. Still, I admit he seems to be able to keep out of harm's way."
[/TD][/tr]The first rabbit stopped in a sunny patch and scratched his ear with rapid movements of his hind leg. Although he was a yearling and still below fall weight, he had not the harassed look of most "outskirters"' -- that is, the rank and file of ordinary rabbits in their first year who, lacking either aristocratic parentage or unusual size and strength, get sat on by their elders and live as best they can -- often in the open -- on the edge of their warren. He looked as though he knew how to take care of himself. There was a shrewd, buoyant air about him as he sat up, looked around and rubbed both front paws over his nose. As soon as he was satisfied that all was well, he laid back his ears and set to work on the grass.
His companion seemed less at ease. He was small, with wide, staring eyes and a way of raising and turning his head which suggested not so much caution as a kind of ceaseless, nervous tension. His nose moved continually, and when a bumblebee flew humming to a thistle bloom behind him, he jumped and spun round with a start that sent two nearby rabbits scurrying for holes before the nearest, a buck with black-tipped ears, recognized him and returned to feeding.
"Oh, it's only Fiver," said the black-tipped rabbit, "jumping at bluebottles again. Come on, Buckthorn, what were you telling me?"
"Fiver?" said the other rabbit. "Why's he called that?"
"Five in the litter, you know: he was the last -- and the smallest. You'd wonder nothing had got him by now. I always say a man couldn't see him and a fox wouldn't want him. Still, I admit he seems to be able to keep out of harm's way."
[TR][th][td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:50px; background-color:#F5DEB3; padding:5px]
tags: tags go here!
notes: notes go here!
[/td][/th][/tr]notes: notes go here!
[TR][th][td][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellspacing,5,true][atrb=style,width:100px; height:10px; padding:0px][atrb=align,center]
CREAMSICLES loves her gangnam style !
[/td][/th][/tr][/table][/center]
Five years ago, the Pokemon League formed Lux to create a new world order of peace and harmony. A rebellion formed, under the name of Nox, cries tyranny at Lux's new microcosmic control. Their civil war now tears the Pokemon world apart. The world hangs in the balance of predormitum. Which side will you choose?
is a high stakes RP set in a dystopian Russian society recovering from an apocalyptic war between the armies of Heaven and Hell. Greater Russia now stands free from the influence of God and the Devil, and all non-humans run the risk of execution. Outside the safe zones lies the contained wasteland of Moscow, where demons and mutated shadowbeasts continue to terrorize the remaining human survivors who have been penned in with them. As of late, increasing evangelic disturbances threaten the peace that has ruthlessly maintained by the secret police.
