Free-for-Grabs Posting Templates

Three basic posting templates — feel free to use and modify as you see fit.

As-is, these templates are mobile-friendly (no text will be hidden off-screen, regardless of device size) and meets accessibility standards for color contrast.

To modify width, adjust the "width:460px;" at the bottom, as well as the class name (".w460") in both the bottom and the top of the post.

To add additional sections to your post, repeat the inner box div (div align="justify" ... /div).


Grey:
[font color="0e0e0e"][div align="center"][div][attr="class","w460"]
[div align="justify" style="padding:40px;font-size:13px;font-family:Palatino;color:#0e0e0e;background-color:#8c8c8c;"]Pirate ipsum dolor spirits rigging squiffy Sink me scallywag chase guns tender Pieces of Eight dead men tell no tales. Snow keel yawl cutlass cackle fruit American Main crow's nest gaff code of conduct rutters. Interloper belaying pin crimp rum me Shiver me timbers provost fathom Pieces of Eight Sail ho. Jack Chain Shot marooned chase galleon bounty gally me sloop reef. Admiral of the Black pirate sloop mizzen gally transom grog blossom stern clap of thunder strike colors. Schooner Jolly Roger hang the jib holystone deadlights fire ship wherry bilge water bilged on her anchor handsomely. Spike run a rig brig deadlights aye warp prow walk the plank killick grog. Run a shot across the bow measured fer yer chains fire ship provost mizzen case shot brig haul wind black spot chandler. Lad piracy black spot Corsair mutiny pressgang aye handsomely wench hornswaggle. Brig keelhaul mutiny pinnace spirits bring a spring upon her cable killick swing the lead pirate to go on account. Grog blossom galleon rum code of conduct fire in the hole weigh anchor rigging aft booty heave down. Cackle fruit Sink me chase grog blossom broadside hardtack case shot rutters Plate Fleet code of conduct.[/div]

[/div][/div]
[newclass=".w460"]width:460px;[/newclass][/font]



White:
[font color="0e0e0e"][div align="center"][div][attr="class","w460"]
[div align="justify" style="padding:40px;font-size:13px;font-family:Palatino;color:#0e0e0e;background-color:#e0e0e0;"]Hipster ipsum dolor amet taxidermy trust fund tumblr church-key normcore activated charcoal. Health goth pabst bushwick waistcoat before they sold out biodiesel chambray, poutine meh readymade live-edge chicharrones iceland kogi lyft. Fingerstache typewriter hammock bushwick, street art salvia chillwave cloud bread slow-carb four loko small batch ramps. Meh vice deep v, swag copper mug semiotics master cleanse humblebrag umami green juice YOLO cloud bread austin unicorn. Selvage normcore chambray palo santo pabst +1 cornhole post-ironic blog selfies pug knausgaard farm-to-table artisan. Small batch prism wayfarers leggings man braid, mustache ugh. Lumbersexual ethical disrupt stumptown. Hell of tumeric gastropub, taiyaki prism fashion axe try-hard swag farm-to-table. Tattooed brunch woke heirloom single-origin coffee migas succulents kitsch franzen PBR&B. Slow-carb quinoa la croix occupy, knausgaard austin plaid tumeric humblebrag copper mug tumblr art party squid. Bicycle rights VHS humblebrag you probably haven't heard of them chia, taxidermy venmo put a bird on it. Bicycle rights keytar pork belly skateboard forage, organic retro la croix tofu kinfolk. Everyday carry organic lyft beard crucifix yuccie twee. Fingerstache organic keffiyeh church-key pug woke food truck.[/div]

[/div][/div]
[newclass=".w460"]width:460px;[/newclass][/font]



Black:
[font color="0e0e0e"][div align="center"][div][attr="class","w460"]
[div align="justify" style="padding:40px;font-size:13px;font-family:Palatino;color:#a0a0a0;background-color:#090909;"]Office ipsum dolor usabiltiy flesh that out or fast track low-hanging fruit. Turn the ship low hanging fruit where the metal hits the meat. Make it a priority can you send me an invite?, for you better eat a reality sandwich before you walk back in that boardroom, for deploy to production prethink. Nail it down it is all exactly as i said, but i don't like it yet future-proof, nor can we take this offline, so not the long pole in my tent. Sea change we don't want to boil the ocean and after I ran into Helen at a restaurant, I realized she was just office pretty, critical mass close the loop. Table the discussion low hanging fruit a set of certitudes based on deductions founded on false premise for we need to button up our approach for the horse is out of the barn so define the underlying principles that drive decisions and strategy for your design language. Time vampire organic growth, so three-martini lunch product management breakout fastworks. Good optics the right info at the right time to the right people all hands on deck net net. Performance review powerPointless. Meeting assassin. Thinking outside the box design thinking but please submit the sop and uat files by next monday and single wringable neck. Slow-walk our commitment teams were able to drive adoption and awareness can you champion this. Let me know if you need me to crack any skulls killing it ladder up / ladder back to the strategy it is all exactly as i said, but i don't like it so hammer out, and put a record on and see who dances re-inventing the wheel.[/div]

[/div][/div]
[newclass=".w460"]width:460px;[/newclass][/font]



Samples:

[attr="class","w460"]

Love is: Long weeks at the logging site. Handing down your warmest coat, the full-grain leather one, a winter or two before it'll fit. Waking in the middle of the night to make sure no one misses the meteor shower. Concerned silence — only silence— over blackened eyes and bloodied noses. Falling asleep during the third grade play, because it means showing up at all, even after a 36-hour shift. Leaving the peas out of the chicken pot pie. Whittling lessons given maybe-too-soon. Piggyback rides given maybe-too-late. Flowers brought home twice a week and hung from the ceiling instead of shoved into a vase on the table, the living room perpetually a desiccated jungle of foxgloves and snapdragons and asters and sunflowers.

By these metrics, John Wood, Jr.'s father loved him from the day he was born. Loved his siblings. Loved his mother — before she disappeared, and every day since.

Snag is: Trees that still stand after they've died. Avulsed branches hanging on by little more than bark. Homes for dozens of species of birds and small mammals. Structurally unsound. Widowmaker branches. Deadfall.

Snag is: Exactly what punched a hole clear through John Pollard Wood, Sr.'s torso.

Snag is: An understatement.

Love is: Fistfights with Uncle York, with Uncle Gawain, with Aunt Morgaine the instigator, with each of John Sr.'s shitty brothers and sisters that saw fit to name themselves executor, to greedily claim for themselves the gabled two-story with no regard to the seven orphans who lived there. Letting the pet beaver into the house to make a dam out of the doorframes, a final fuck you to York when he tries to sell the place. Accepting the carpenter's apprenticeship offered to your twin, so that she can keep studying arboriculture.

Love is doing your best.

Love is: Long weeks at the logging site. Handing down your warmest coat, the full-grain leather one, a winter or two before it'll fit. Waking in the middle of the night to make sure no one misses the meteor shower. Concerned silence — only silence— over blackened eyes and bloodied noses. Falling asleep during the third grade play, because it means showing up at all, even after a 36-hour shift. Leaving the peas out of the chicken pot pie. Whittling lessons given maybe-too-soon. Piggyback rides given maybe-too-late. Flowers brought home twice a week and hung from the ceiling instead of shoved into a vase on the table, the living room perpetually a desiccated jungle of foxgloves and snapdragons and asters and sunflowers.

By these metrics, John Wood, Jr.'s father loved him from the day he was born. Loved his siblings. Loved his mother — before she disappeared, and every day since.

Snag is: Trees that still stand after they've died. Avulsed branches hanging on by little more than bark. Homes for dozens of species of birds and small mammals. Structurally unsound. Widowmaker branches. Deadfall.

Snag is: Exactly what punched a hole clear through John Pollard Wood, Sr.'s torso.

Snag is: An understatement.

Love is: Fistfights with Uncle York, with Uncle Gawain, with Aunt Morgaine the instigator, with each of John Sr.'s shitty brothers and sisters that saw fit to name themselves executor, to greedily claim for themselves the gabled two-story with no regard to the seven orphans who lived there. Letting the pet beaver into the house to make a dam out of the doorframes, a final fuck you to York when he tries to sell the place. Accepting the carpenter's apprenticeship offered to your twin, so that she can keep studying arboriculture.

Love is doing your best.

Love is: Long weeks at the logging site. Handing down your warmest coat, the full-grain leather one, a winter or two before it'll fit. Waking in the middle of the night to make sure no one misses the meteor shower. Concerned silence — only silence— over blackened eyes and bloodied noses. Falling asleep during the third grade play, because it means showing up at all, even after a 36-hour shift. Leaving the peas out of the chicken pot pie. Whittling lessons given maybe-too-soon. Piggyback rides given maybe-too-late. Flowers brought home twice a week and hung from the ceiling instead of shoved into a vase on the table, the living room perpetually a desiccated jungle of foxgloves and snapdragons and asters and sunflowers.

By these metrics, John Wood, Jr.'s father loved him from the day he was born. Loved his siblings. Loved his mother — before she disappeared, and every day since.

Snag is: Trees that still stand after they've died. Avulsed branches hanging on by little more than bark. Homes for dozens of species of birds and small mammals. Structurally unsound. Widowmaker branches. Deadfall.

Snag is: Exactly what punched a hole clear through John Pollard Wood, Sr.'s torso.

Snag is: An understatement.

Love is: Fistfights with Uncle York, with Uncle Gawain, with Aunt Morgaine the instigator, with each of John Sr.'s shitty brothers and sisters that saw fit to name themselves executor, to greedily claim for themselves the gabled two-story with no regard to the seven orphans who lived there. Letting the pet beaver into the house to make a dam out of the doorframes, a final fuck you to York when he tries to sell the place. Accepting the carpenter's apprenticeship offered to your twin, so that she can keep studying arboriculture.

Love is doing your best.

[newclass=".w460"]width:460px;[/newclass]