12-22-2018, 06:16 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Playfair+Display' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .woolf_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background-color: #1E1F21; width: 600px; padding: 0 0 0 0; border: solid 1px #6b899570; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .woolf_container p { margin: 0; } .woolf_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; } .woolf_gradient { position: absolute; z-index: 5; top: 553px; left: 0px; width: 600px; height: 200px; background: -moz-linear-gradient(top, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%, rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); background: -webkit-linear-gradient(top, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%,rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); background: linear-gradient(to bottom, rgba(0,0,0,0) 0%,rgba(30,31,33,1) 100%); filter: progid
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00000000', endColorstr='#1e1f21',GradientType=0 ); } .woolf_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; padding-top: 10px; margin-top: -110px; } .woolf_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #859191; padding: 20px 35px; } .woolf_quote { position: relative; text-align: center; width: 60%; color: #5b686c; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-bottom: solid 1px; } .woolf_name { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #2a3439; width: 100%; font: 40px 'Playfair Display', serif; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 20px; padding-bottom: 10px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #000; } .woolf_quotetwo { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #5b686c; width: 45%; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-top: solid 1px; } </style> <center> <div class="woolf_container"> <img class="woolf_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/bpsaehnrf/jaroslav-devia-715052-unsplash.jpg"> <div class="woolf_gradient"></div> <div class="woolf_text"> <p class="woolf_quote">bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze <br>if you must drink of me, take of me what you please</p> <p class="woolf_message">
In this moment, time sluggish and air thick, dreams and reality meld together in his head. It becomes impossible to pick them apart, impossible to pull apart the threads to discern. The fire warms them from above and he feels his consciousness slipping in and out, groaning slightly into her touch as he feels her press touches into his flesh, the ice and the heat of them doing nothing to ease his dreamlike state.
She is here and they are curled beneath the flame.
She is there and they are tangled together, mouths on one another.
She is here and he feels the heat of her curled into his side.
She is there and her legs are wrapped around him, his lips on her throat.
He frowns, mouth wrinkling with thought as he shifts. When she begins to murmur that she needs to go, he groans again, pulling her back against him. “No,” he growls under his breath, although its a half-hearted attempt at best. “Don’t leave. Not yet.” His emerald eyes remain closed as his mouth touches her, tasting the sweetness of her flesh, the touch causing his face to relax once more as he slips back.
“Not when I’ve just found you again,” he murmurs, his lips curving just slightly into a rare smile, something warm. “You promised me a date,” he reminds her, half asleep, although this doesn’t feel exactly like the kind of date he thinks he had been imagining. Hadn’t he told her a location?
None of this made sense.
The only thing that he could discern was that she was finally here again and he didn’t want to let her go—didn’t want to lose this feeling of her against him. Not when it felt so right. “Did you forget?” he asks under his breath, pressing a kiss into her shoulder and then letting his lips trail up the curve of her neck before his head drops low again against her, just breathing her in. “That’s not kind, Wallace.” </p> <p class="woolf_name">woolf</p> <p class="woolf_quotetwo">I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste </p> </div> </div> </center>
XImageTransform.Microsoft.gradient( startColorstr='#00000000', endColorstr='#1e1f21',GradientType=0 ); } .woolf_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 580px; padding-top: 10px; margin-top: -110px; } .woolf_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #859191; padding: 20px 35px; } .woolf_quote { position: relative; text-align: center; width: 60%; color: #5b686c; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-bottom: solid 1px; } .woolf_name { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #2a3439; width: 100%; font: 40px 'Playfair Display', serif; text-transform: uppercase; line-height: 1.3em; letter-spacing: 20px; padding-bottom: 10px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 0px #000; } .woolf_quotetwo { position: relative; text-align: center; color: #5b686c; width: 45%; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 1px; padding-top: 10px; padding-bottom: 20px; border-top: solid 1px; } </style> <center> <div class="woolf_container"> <img class="woolf_image" src="https://s15.postimg.cc/bpsaehnrf/jaroslav-devia-715052-unsplash.jpg"> <div class="woolf_gradient"></div> <div class="woolf_text"> <p class="woolf_quote">bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze <br>if you must drink of me, take of me what you please</p> <p class="woolf_message"> In this moment, time sluggish and air thick, dreams and reality meld together in his head. It becomes impossible to pick them apart, impossible to pull apart the threads to discern. The fire warms them from above and he feels his consciousness slipping in and out, groaning slightly into her touch as he feels her press touches into his flesh, the ice and the heat of them doing nothing to ease his dreamlike state.
She is here and they are curled beneath the flame.
She is there and they are tangled together, mouths on one another.
She is here and he feels the heat of her curled into his side.
She is there and her legs are wrapped around him, his lips on her throat.
He frowns, mouth wrinkling with thought as he shifts. When she begins to murmur that she needs to go, he groans again, pulling her back against him. “No,” he growls under his breath, although its a half-hearted attempt at best. “Don’t leave. Not yet.” His emerald eyes remain closed as his mouth touches her, tasting the sweetness of her flesh, the touch causing his face to relax once more as he slips back.
“Not when I’ve just found you again,” he murmurs, his lips curving just slightly into a rare smile, something warm. “You promised me a date,” he reminds her, half asleep, although this doesn’t feel exactly like the kind of date he thinks he had been imagining. Hadn’t he told her a location?
None of this made sense.
The only thing that he could discern was that she was finally here again and he didn’t want to let her go—didn’t want to lose this feeling of her against him. Not when it felt so right. “Did you forget?” he asks under his breath, pressing a kiss into her shoulder and then letting his lips trail up the curve of her neck before his head drops low again against her, just breathing her in. “That’s not kind, Wallace.” </p> <p class="woolf_name">woolf</p> <p class="woolf_quotetwo">I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste </p> </div> </div> </center>
