11-28-2020, 03:54 PM
<link href='https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Italianno' rel='stylesheet' type='text/css'> <style type="text/css"> .sleaze_container { position: relative; z-index: 1; background: url('https://i.postimg.cc/cCs2JrRw/sleaze-bg.png'); background-size: cover; width: 600px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0 0 0 0; border: solid 2px #000; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .sleaze_container p { margin: 0; } .sleaze_image { position: relative; z-index: 4; width: 600px; border-radius: 0 0 40% 40%; border-bottom: solid 5px #826aab; box-shadow: 0 4px 10px -4px #000; } .sleaze_text { position: relative; z-index: 6; width: 550px; margin-bottom: -400px; border-radius: 0 0 240px 240px; border-left: 1px solid #826aab; border-right: 1px solid #826aab; border-bottom: 5px solid #826aab; background: #00000070; box-shadow: 0px 0px 10px 1px #000; } .sleaze_message { position: relative; font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; text-align: justify; color: #9ea5b9; padding: 30px 20px 10px; } .sleaze_name { font: 125px 'Italianno', sans-serif; color: #1d253d59; padding-bottom: 10px; text-shadow: 0px 0px 20px #1d253d; } .sleaze_quote { font: 12px 'Times New Roman', serif; letter-spacing: 2px; color: #826aab; padding-top: 30px; } </style> <center> <div class="sleaze_container"> <div class="sleaze_text"> <p class="sleaze_quote"> I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies<br /> tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife</p> <p class="sleaze_message">
Once, chains wrapped around his ankles and drug him into a world that would fracture his reality and spawn years of nightmares, but what happens this time is different - he sleeps and then he doesn’t, he wakes shivering, and when his eyes open they are stung by the cold. Enveloping him is a strange world – strange to him, at least, for Sleaze has known little but the warmth of meadows and mild rivers – of ice and snow, the whiteness occasionally marred by sharp scrams of rock, jutting sharp as a winklepicker from the earth. Peering further into the distance, he can see the hints of plants, lichen and arctic willows dotting what he had thought to be bare rocks. Rumors of other things too, tracks in the snow, the small snowshoe-like steps of hares, the larger tracks of caribou, and something large and five-toed that Sleaze does not recognize.
Quiet, until it’s not.
From behind him, a noise cracks like breaking ice across the snowscape, something heavy and feral. Yowling wind picks up from nowhere, suddenly sharp and stinging, and he squints his eyes against the sudden assault. Almost blinded, he can see something now, a shape in the now-whipping snow; Sleaze steps backward, as if he had any idea where to run.
He can hear it breathing. Impossibly, above the wind, he can hear it breathing.
Behold: a creature that is larger than he is, and as it moves – slow, but with <i>purpose</i> - he can see it is bipedal, and that there are terrible claws – fiver-fingered, all sharp as knives, and an elongated head. Graceful – almost – and terrible.
What would you call such a thing, such a beast, this awful outline in the snow?
<i>Tariaksuq</i> - the name comes unbidden, as if forced into his mind. Languishing there.
Sleaze turns as if he will run, the wind still whipping at him, the thing – the <i>tariaksuq</i> - breathing heavy behind him, and one thing is terribly clear: there's snow way out of this one.
</p> <p class="sleaze_name">Sleaze</p> </div> <img class="sleaze_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/9f7vg3XR/sleaze.png"> </div> </center>
never trap me in your alphabet again you monster
Once, chains wrapped around his ankles and drug him into a world that would fracture his reality and spawn years of nightmares, but what happens this time is different - he sleeps and then he doesn’t, he wakes shivering, and when his eyes open they are stung by the cold. Enveloping him is a strange world – strange to him, at least, for Sleaze has known little but the warmth of meadows and mild rivers – of ice and snow, the whiteness occasionally marred by sharp scrams of rock, jutting sharp as a winklepicker from the earth. Peering further into the distance, he can see the hints of plants, lichen and arctic willows dotting what he had thought to be bare rocks. Rumors of other things too, tracks in the snow, the small snowshoe-like steps of hares, the larger tracks of caribou, and something large and five-toed that Sleaze does not recognize.
Quiet, until it’s not.
From behind him, a noise cracks like breaking ice across the snowscape, something heavy and feral. Yowling wind picks up from nowhere, suddenly sharp and stinging, and he squints his eyes against the sudden assault. Almost blinded, he can see something now, a shape in the now-whipping snow; Sleaze steps backward, as if he had any idea where to run.
He can hear it breathing. Impossibly, above the wind, he can hear it breathing.
Behold: a creature that is larger than he is, and as it moves – slow, but with <i>purpose</i> - he can see it is bipedal, and that there are terrible claws – fiver-fingered, all sharp as knives, and an elongated head. Graceful – almost – and terrible.
What would you call such a thing, such a beast, this awful outline in the snow?
<i>Tariaksuq</i> - the name comes unbidden, as if forced into his mind. Languishing there.
Sleaze turns as if he will run, the wind still whipping at him, the thing – the <i>tariaksuq</i> - breathing heavy behind him, and one thing is terribly clear: there's snow way out of this one.
</p> <p class="sleaze_name">Sleaze</p> </div> <img class="sleaze_image" src="https://i.postimg.cc/9f7vg3XR/sleaze.png"> </div> </center>
never trap me in your alphabet again you monster