#Blazing Chrome

[hardcore-gaming-101]

Blazing Chrome

JoyMasher made a name for themselves with games like Oniken and Odallus, both based on 8-bit titles from developers like Natsume and Konami. Their third game, Blazing Chrome, not only shifts its inspiration to the 16-bit era, but also patterns itself very specifically after a single title: Contra: Hard Corps, the Genesis entry in Konami’s seminal run-and-gun series. It’s a fantastic source to draw from – not only is it one of the best looking games on Sega’s platform, with a distinctly gritty, comic book-style aesthetic, but it was one that Konami never followed up on, instead moving to 3D graphics with later entries.

Read more...

[bitmapbooks]

Our latest book - The Art Of The Box is now available for pre-order 📚

Painstakingly researched and collated over six months, The Art Of The Box boasts exclusive interviews with the artists who were reasonable for the cover art that graced multiple generations of video games.

Pre-order your copy here: https://www.bitmapbooks.com/collections/all-books/products/the-art-of-the-box

Shipments will be fulfilled in the order they were placed, starting on Monday 21st August 2023 📦

#bitmapbooks #book #retrogaming #retrogames #gaming #art #reading #foryou #theartofthebox #blazingchrome #dudutorres

[darkknightsparda]

Tunnel Stage - Blazing Chrome Original Soundtrack

[thephantomorder]

My newest video is out!!!

[unholy-everlasting]

@sonic-fankid-showdown The fankids from the "Vote for Marie" post (except Pixel, she's just here lol).

Who knows, I might submit one of them in for the next Showdown ��� (except Pixel, she isn't a fankid).

[mahoganygold213]

Christian Siriano| Spring Summer 2024

[impala-dreamer]

In The Arms of Sleep

A Supernatural Story

~ Death has been hunting him, turning every moment into a painful dream of blood and pain. His only hope for a moment's rest lies in her arms...~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,985 Words

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of death and show level blood, Allusions to sex. Set right before the series finale. | Originally Published to Patreon 9/11/2023

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He probably should have called first.

Probably should have at least texted.

It was too late now though.

She’d just have to deal with it.

The highway stretched out before him, undulating and twisting like so many tentacles of some viscous midnight monster. Black and unforgiving; poised to devour him should he jerk the wheel in the wrong way at the wrong moment.

Suddenly, the thought of a crash crossed his mind and he couldn’t break away from it. How many miles had he driven in his life? How many times had he transverse the country, weaving back and forth across the yellow lines; crossing state borders without a second thought. Impossible to count. And yet- he’d been in so few accidents that it was almost comical. It was statistically impossible that he hadn’t careened off a cliff in New England and plummeted into the icy waters of the Atlantic, or been mesmerized by a heat mirage outside of Phoenix and missed a turn, crashing into the rocks, his last moments spent hearing the sickening crunch of metal and bone.

For a moment, he saw himself, half alive and wheezing, chest punctured by the wreck of the steering wheel; both legs broken, face shredded and bleeding as he crawled from a mess of black steel. The Impala crumpled, smoke billowing from beneath the hood while fluids mixed on the blacktop below. He clawed at the dirt, nails breaking painfully as he struggled to pull himself from the rubble. Each movement sent white-hot pain through his body, but he kept going, desperate to save himself as flames licked at the upholstery, turning the slick, shining chrome to blazing orange.

Shaking himself, Dean cleared the vision from his mind and shifted in his seat. The soft leather cradled him perfectly and he sank into it a bit, letting himself relax even as he tightened his grip on the wheel.

Things like that had been happening more and more. Nightmares were common in his life, but bloody daydreams were a new phenomenon. They often came out of nowhere too, making it almost impossible to stay calm and on task. One moment, he was playing on his phone or fixing dinner, and the next, he was watching as bullets tore through his chest, blood erupting from the punctures in slow motion cascades of crimson. More often, it was some monster attack, something easy that he could handle on his own that caught him. He’d turn a corner in a farmhouse and be ripped apart by massive talons, feasted upon by wolves, drained by an earth-covered vampire.

Every moment now, he saw his death. Every breath he took sent images of the end into his mind. He was plagued by the sights, haunted by the feeling, exhausted and helpless. Despite his best efforts at drinking the scenes away, the whiskey only made things worse. He’d tried talking about it, but it sounded insane. Tried writing them down, but he wasn’t good with words, couldn’t get the emotions right, couldn’t describe the anxiety. Hell, he’d even tried meditating, but that only proved to make the thoughts more vivid and devastating.

He needed something that he couldn’t find back at home.

Needed something he knew would soothe him, even if only for one night.

He needed Y/N.

So, he drove. Miles and miles, wheels spinning so fast that human eyes couldn’t see the treds turning, gripping, biting at the roads. So fast that it felt as if the car would leave the blacktop and float on the wind, fly him right to her front door.

He wasn’t so lucky.

He drove through the day and deep into the night, stopping only for gas in Oklahoma and then to take a piss a few hours later. Landscapes changed outside the windows, trees growing tall and full; the earth deepening from deep yellow to rich green. The world outside passed by, but he couldn’t see it. All he could see was blood.

A little after two in the morning, he reached her street. The little blue house was set back a bit from the road, tall bushes fencing in a modest lawn. She’d inherited the property when her parents were killed; the same time she’d met Dean.

He’d saved her life that night, and many more times, she’d done the same for him. Whether she knew it or not, she was always on his mind.

Dean slowly slid into the empty space in front of her house and cut the engine. He switched off the headlights and peered up at the front left window. Her light was off; the house dark and quiet.

He should have called first.

Exhausted, he closed his eyes for a moment and considered leaving. He could drive back straight away and be home before Sam got to worrying or Miracle missed him too much and chewed up his slippers. He fingered the ignition key, running his thumb across the dull ridges, ready to jam it back into its place.

He took a breath and a muzzle flare ignited in his head; the silenced gun taking him down with a shot perfectly executed right between his eyes. He jumped and willed the vision to dissipate, but it refused, growing brighter as his soul darkened.

A light flipped on in the window above and Dean’s heart jolted out of rhythm.

He made it to the front door just as she pulled it open and green eyes flooded with tears.

“Dean?”

Her voice was like a balm to his aching soul and he slumped forward into her outstretched arms.

“I heard the car,” she whispered, chin digging into the crook of his neck. “I thought I was dreaming.”

Dean clasped his arms around her back and held on, refusing despite the cold night air that swirled around them, to let her go and follow her inside. He needed a moment. Needed to lay his troubles down before crossing the threshold.

“Not dreaming,” he answered in a sigh. “But I may be.”

She smiled and placed a hand on the back of his neck, holding him to her. “You OK?”

He laughed bitterly, body shaking against her. “Not even a little.”

Y/N pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. The green was darker than she remembered, his soul burdened with so much pain that the color was fading, growing deeper than the evergreens that lined the back of her property. She lay her hand softly against his cheek and his eyes fluttered shut. He leaned into the touch, desperate for any human connection, desperate for her. He took a choppy breath and set his jaw tight. She felt the muscles flex beneath her palm, and she pressed her fingertips into the side of his face, giving him something real to feel.

“Hey…”

Her voice was calm and sweet, hiding the worry in her heart. Dean’s lashes lifted and he looked down into her eyes. She smiled.

“You’re gonna be OK.”

He wanted to believe it, needed to put his faith in her words, but blood was dripping from the deep, imagined gashes in his mind, puddling at his feet, flooding the concrete steps.

Subtly, he shook his head. “I dunno about that.” He tried to smile, to sprinkle in a bit of Winchester charm, but he had none left. He closed his eyes again and once more, the sight of his flayed body floated by, and he shivered.

Y/N’s fingers tensed, her middle finger pushing lightly against his temple. “Dean…”

He opened his heart, but not his eyes. “Y/N, please-”  His voice cracked around her name; pathetic and spent.

Y/N’s hand slid from his cheek to his hand, closing around it and pulling him along as she turned.

They didn’t speak. The only sound in the darkness was the door closing behind them and his boots hitting the old hardwood floor. The white pine planks were thin and long, stretching out down a hallway that barely seemed familiar to him. She had painted since last he’d been there, but it was too dark to see the shade of green she’d chosen.

Y/N held his hand and walked straight down the hallway and to the left. If memory served him, it was her bedroom- a small rectangular room with a big antique brass bed pushed into the corner and hand painted art on the walls. She flipped the light switch and a dim lamp by the bed turned on. It did little to illuminate the room, but it was enough to guide them across the thick carpet.

She stopped by the side of the bed and turned to him.

“Boots off,” she said firmly.

Dean’s forehead creased in question. “Huh?”

She sighed and nodded to his feet. “You’re not getting into my bed with those filthy boots on.”

He drew his bottom lip between his teeth and bit down hard. He wanted nothing more than to slide into her arms, but something was blocking his movements. A strange tightness grew in his chest, spreading outward like clinging ivy. His throat closed, his breathing quickened. Tears welled, but he refused to let them fall.

Slowly, Y/N lifted her hands to slide the canvas jacket from his shoulders. “Relax,” she whispered, tugging the fabric off his thick arms. Carefully, she folded it in half and laid it on the corner of her bed. The army green popped against the pale rose comforter and Dean set his gaze upon the contrast, desperate to hold onto it and push the phantom blood aside.

He let her pull off his flannel; open his belt. When she reached for the hem of his gray tee, his hands shot around her wrists.

He shook his head. “Y/N…”

She smiled softly. “Let me.”

His grip released and she lifted the cotton up over his head. He sighed deeply as the sweaty shirt caressed his cheeks and he emerged with half a smile.

The room was cool. A vent in the floor to his right pushed a light breeze into the air and it chilled his exposed skin. It felt good.

Y/N tried not to linger too long over his naked chest, tried to ignore his soft belly, the dip that lay across his broad shoulders. Unconsciously, she lifted her hand to cover the ink on his chest, the same design he’d insisted she get tattooed on her hip. They were connected in that strange way, and sometimes she wondered if he could feel her tracing the arms of the pentagram on her own skin late at night.

Dean stared down at her, awed by her gentleness, her shadowy beauty. The lamplight danced on her cheeks, cut out the lines of her lips; highlighted the fringe of lashes over her eyes.

She could feel his eyes on her and looked up, meeting his gaze. He shivered as her fingers slipped down his chest, sucked in a breath as her nails bit lightly into the tender flesh of his hips, exhaled slowly when she tugged his zipper down.

As his jeans sank to his ankles, Y/N turned away and lifted the thin nightshirt from her body, leaving her naked but for a pair of lilac panties. She didn’t look back as she slid into bed and tucked herself in the corner by the wall. When she was in place, she rolled over and lifted her arms, calling Dean to her side.

He kicked his boots off, let the denim rest beside them. He kept his boxers on and gracefully climbed in beside her.

His head sank into the pillow and her scent flooded his senses. The cushion was cool and comforting, the blanket heavy in a delicious way that made his body finally relax. Y/N tucked him in and then cuddled closer, pressing her flesh against his.

Dean could feel her firm breasts against his side, the soft curve of her waist, the heft of her hips. He bathed in her heat and rolled towards her, ready to unburden his soul. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He cleared his throat but no words would form.

He struggled.

She smiled.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she assured him, scooting up a bit on the bed. “I’ve got you.” She shifted quickly and Dean fell against her chest, cradled in her arms.

He pressed his ear to her heart and closed his eyes. Every beat pulsed through him and he breathed slowly with her, letting the tears finally come.

The harder he cried, the tighter she held him. She ran her hands through his hair, rubbed at his shoulders, kissed the top of his head, again and again reassuring him that he was safe with her, cared for, and loved.

Dean slid his arm around her waist and held on, feeling more like a whimpering child than a man. Forty years hung on him like lead, threatening to twist his bones and break his spirit.

He cried it all out as Y/N held him. Every hunt gone wrong, every death and resurrection. He cried for his parents, he cried for Sam. He cried for every soul he’d tortured in Hell, every life on Earth he’d failed to save. He cried for Charlie and for Eileen; for Kevin and Crowley. He cried for Lisa, cried for Ben. He cried for his youth, his wins and losses. He cried for Cas.

Y/N absorbed every tear, soothed every sob. She rocked him gently as his body shook, traced circles in his back to give him something else to focus on. She never let her grip waiver, never let a second go by without touching him in some way.

Night lifted slowly and the sun poked at the curtains. The windows glowed with pink and golden light and Dean stirred.

He lifted his head from Y/N’s arm and blinked into the growing light. She was fast asleep, chest rising and falling gently with each breath. Half circles darkened the flesh beneath her eyes and her hair was a mess, but she was nothing short of beautiful in his eyes.

Dean breathed easy for the first time in a long while. He felt lighter. When he closed his eyes, he saw the empty darkness of his eyelids and nothing more. No death, no blood, no hiding dangers. He smiled.

Daring to wake her, he slid his fingers lightly across her forehead and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

Y/N pulled in a heavy breath and her eyes fluttered open. She saw his face and smiled.

His eyes were brighter, his cheeks pink and warm.

“Mornin’,” he whispered, leaning closer to her lips.

“Good morning.” She licked her lips and looked down at his. Plump and wet, they pushed out a bit, reaching for hers. “You seem better…”

He smiled. “Thanks to you.”

She bit her lip, tugging the corner of her mouth between her teeth. Shyly, she looked up into his eyes and knew that, if only for a little while, he would be alright.

His kiss was heavy and needy, tongue pressing between her lips before she was prepared. She gasped into him, slid beneath him when he tugged her closer.

His weight was crushing and devastatingly arousing and Y/N spread her legs, wrapping herself around his waist. She could feel that he was as ready as she was, and reached down between them to pull her panties aside.

Dean propped up on his aching arms and gazed down at her. She was everything in that moment- lover, friend, nurse, savior. He licked at her lips again and closed his eyes, breathing every drop of her in. He held his breath, memorizing her taste, her scent, her warmth, and tucking it away for later.

He’d always need her.

Always love her.

They showered together; unwilling to part.

They held hands over slightly burned pancakes and chewy bacon.

They lingered in the doorway, clutched in each other’s arms.

“You sure you can’t stay?” she asked, refusing to let go.

Dean kissed the top of her head and gave her arms a squeeze. “I have to get back.”

“Places to go, people to save, right?” She laughed sadly and pulled back, giving him a faint smile. “I missed you, you know.”

He sighed and looked down for a moment, feeling the weight of everything pushing down on him again. Guilt rattled in his brain and he chewed his lip, rubbed her hand between both of his.

“I’m sorry-” His voice was deep and heavy.

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I’m just… I always miss you, Dean.”

He smiled. “I miss you too,” he confessed. “A lot.”

Y/N grabbed his hands and swung them playfully at their sides. “So�� maybe don’t stay away too long next time, huh?”

“I won’t.” Dean dragged her hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles on each hand. “I promise.”

One last kiss goodbye, one last press of her body against his.

The road home was just as long but a little bit easier. He carried the feel of her home with him, kept her face in the back of his mind. She was like a soldier in his head, forever poised and ready to defend him, to cast away the visions that plagued his daydreams, to set his heart right when his faith began to dissipate. An angel there to keep him safe and guard his nights, a gentle love to make everything alright.

Death would come for him soon enough, but for now, he drove the highways and unpaved backroads home with a new sense of hope. He could watch the trees fly by, enjoy the changing horizon and let the light seep into his soul.

He felt better.

He felt strangely OK.

He was glad he hadn’t called.

2024 Tag List:

@alwaystiredandconfused @caplanbuckybarnes @cevenasdove-baby @cosicas-cuquis @deanwinchesterswitch

@feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @illicithallways @jackles010378 @k-slla

@luvr4miya @nightxcreature @peytongoose @shadyloveobject @somebrokeartstudent

@zepskies

Add Yourself To The List

[asha-mage]

Johnny: "Ever think back, about why we did it?" Rogue: "Did what?" Johnny: "Why we took on the corps- strapped in leather, chrome and iron." Rogue: "Dunno Johnny. We where young. Hot blood in our veins, shit judgement in our heads. Like all pups." Johnny: "We fought for beauty. Not knowing what was good or true. It was only the beautiful that meant a damn thing to us."

I've been thinking about this exchange non stop for days now. It comes right in the middle of Johnny, Rouge, and Weylan's final raid on Arasaka Tower, and in a moment of rare self reflection for Johnny right before the end. Rogue assumes he's just being nostalgic of course, and tells him to focus on the task at hand, but the truth is that in this moment Johnny is riding the 'last job' high and seems to realize what exactly it is he's fighting for. Not his survival, not his ideals, not to punish Arasaka for what they did to Alt or him- but for beauty. For life. For V's life.

Because Johnny does view V's life as fundamentally beautiful, as worth fighting for. It's why he rages at Alt when he learns the truth, why he desperately tries to reason with V at their lowest, and why, in one final act of rocker boy defiance, he marches to the edge of the Blackwall, rather then take V's final chance away. Johnny fundamentally views six months of V getting to keep living, keep fighting, keep being stubbornly insistently themselves, as more beautiful then a second chance for himself. The final raid on Arasaka Tower, destroying Mikoshi- it's his swan song, his final blaze of glory- his farewell to a world he left behind a long time ago, and that left him behind.

In this moment, Johnny sounds and feels fundamentally free in a way he hasn't all game. Because he realizes he's once again fighting for what that is beautiful, and that is what gives him the determination to kill Smasher and finally bring Arasaka down. That he's doing it for V.

[milksuu]

𓆩🖤𓆪 Screw Your Bike! 𓆩🖤𓆪

❥ prompt: You hated to admit it but, you were jealous of a damn motorcycle. How was it possible to feel second place to a vrooming object with two-wheels? What did it have that you didn't? A leather seat and a holo-graphic chrome wrap, really? Well, if Kayn wanted to take a ride, he'd have to go through you. Literally and figuratively. ❥ content/warnings: nsfw 18+, dom!kayn, dirty talk, bratty behavior, profanity ❥ characters/pairings: Heartsteel!kayn x f!reader

You were going to be in so much trouble. Good. That's where you wanted to be. After being blown off recently, you weren't trying to be nice. If Kayn wanted to keep having fun with his new toy, then he'd have to go through you.

"Where the hell are my keys?" He growled out loud. Frustration igniting that irresistible scowl across his features. "I swear, if Ezreal thought It'd be funny to hide them, then it's going to be funnier when I murder him."

Oh. Poor Ezreal. You hated if he ever took the blame for your misdeed. But your secret wouldn't be kept for long. It was only a matter of time before you were found it. Which, you wanted to be. Very badly.

Kayn asked for your help in looking for the missing keys. You played your part well; sifting through cluttered drawers and couch cushions. After searching the house, it was time to search around the garage.

"Probably left it in the ignition or something," Kayn mumbled to himself, scanning the body of his motorcycle.

You stood a few feet away. Smiling. Watching him wrack his brain about where exactly were those damned keys. It was time to be found out. You bounced on your toes. Jingle Jingle.

That definitely caught someone's attention. Kayn looked up, narrowing his green eye against you. "Did you just...jingle?"

"I don't know. Did I?" You posed with fake innocence. You bounced again. Jingle Jingle. "Mm, maybe I did. I can't really tell. Would you mind finding out for me?”

Kayn’s look spat fire, but his smirk crossed with intrigue. He sauntered over with a sway, and sucked against his teeth. “Clever hiding spot. But kinda uninspiring, don’t you think?”

You merely shrugged. Allowing him to bask in whatever verbal triumph he wanted to display. You had to keep your cool. Especially when he plunged a hand between your cleavage. You held in a shudder. The rough of his knuckles brushed against your nipples during his careless search.

That all-too confident smirk faltered at the ends. But where his ended, your grin began. Nothing was there.

"You were right. That spot was uninspiring." You shook your lower half. Jingle Jingle. "Wonder where else they could be."

Kayn's jaw tightened. You saw the clench of teeth. He didn't liked to be fooled with. The fire that blazed just behind his eyes told you the punishment he wanted to reign. All according to plan.

"You're a damned brat." He said with a bite, tempting to snake a hand up your black mini-skirt.

He almost barked when you gripped his wrist, pinning his hand against your inner thigh. You narrowed your mascaraed lashes against him. "And you're an ass-head. Think I'd be happy with you blowing me off over your supped-up tricycle?"

Kayn glanced from his motorcycle back to you. So, this is what this was all about. You wanted to pick a fight with him over his new toy. Fine, have it your way—but it wasn't going to be the verbal kind. Words were all pointless, meaningless, a waste of time. Fucking things out always worked better.

Kayn slammed his mouth down on yours. You yelped, gripping his wrist tighter. You wouldn't relent, not so easily. When he sucked and nipped at your lower lip, you wrapped your free hand around his neck, grasping for some semblance of control.

Kayn groaned from the slight pressure and claimed your mouth fully. He returned that pressure by gripping tighter against your thigh fat. You were going to let his hand go. Unless you wanted bruises. He wasn't afraid to leave a mark or two on your body. Actually, he preferred it. A reminder of him anytime you undressed.

You whined a moan. The digging of his fingers sending shocks between your legs. You gasped for air, your strength siphoned.

Kayn breathed a shit-winning smirk into your ear. You bit your bottom lip. He thrusted his fingers inside your panty line. Sliding the keys out, the metal jostled and glided against your folds. Wet slicked and coated.

"You're going to pay for almost tarnishing the metal. I don't think you know exactly how much I'd have to cough up to replace them. Nothing you could afford with cash, anyway." Kayn's features darkened, licking the keys clean of your taste.

Oh God. He was such a dick. This is exactly what you wanted. "You're such an ass—"

You cried out when frim hands smacked against your back side, gripping the now tender flesh. Yanking you off your feet, Kayn practically tossed you onto his motorcycle. With your back pressed against the control panel, Kayn settled between your straddled legs. He was going to fuck on you his motorcycle to make a point? Before you could protest, Kayn possessed your lips with a snarl and bite. Goose-bumps rose when you heard the undoing of his jean button and the down slide of his zipper.

"I hope I ruin the leather on this stupid thing," you said, gripping his hot dick in your hand.

Kayn growled and shoved your mini-skirt up to your stomach, snapping your panties to the side. "Ruin it and you're going to be licking your mess off the seat, while I fuck you from behind."

Shit. That sounded so hot. "Screw your fucking bike," you said with a shudder. His fingers swiped against your pussy. Completely drenched for him.

"Don't tempt me with the idea." Kayn took himself from you in his hand, circling your clit with the head of his cock. Slicking it up and down. You writhed, legs shaking against his sides.

Kayn shifted his hips. With his glazed tip, he dragged the length of his cock through your entrance. Your throbbing folds parted, spreading around his shaft. Pushing up to your cervix, he dragged up and back, coating himself with your fluids.

Your hands snatched his shoulders, finding your nails leaving desperate trails for him to take you, over and over and over again. Pleading for him to never stop.

Kayn bent forward, gripping the motorcyle handles. He dipped his head, pressing his teeth against the helix of your ear. "Think you're more exciting than my bike? Then you better purr louder." Bastard!

Kayn slammed inside of you, delivering all of his frustration, hunger and revenge. Taking you like the demon that he inevitably was. You cried out, tightening your legs around him, holding him closer. As if he was your savior and not your actual reaper.

Fuck. You were so hot, tight, and wet. Your walls pulsed and squeezed, making him swell and throb. Kayn gritted his teeth. He almost let himself reach his threshold before you—he was never going to let you fucking win.

Kayn lapped a long tongue across your neck, before diving and sinking a pair of canines into your skin. An apparent mark of his victory. You whole body jolted with pleasure. Your pussy clamped down so hard around his shaft, for a moment, Kayn's vision went black.

You screamed his name. Bucked against him. Coming all around him. Kayn went with you, catching his vulgar groans in his throat as he filled up your insides.

You got exactly what you wanted. Kayne think's he's won, and that's fine. But you were the real winner. He rode you before the damn bike. You smiled to yourself. All according to plan.

[hystericalgynophobia]

i'm no longer fearful. men are all seemingly rapidly becoming like this. if they can go full radical (extremist term) why can’t we go full radical (root term) too? check this blog for updates over the next coming day/weeks/month. a big change is coming. we are stronger together, by the way. let them be distracted by tearing each other down over race/class/sexuality etc and other minor differences. the old “die heretic!” joke has never been so accurate. let’s focus on our commonality for now. that’s how resistance works, it cannot work in isolation. it needs community and solidarity. i’m considering a book, for free, online, drm free, no profit motive. donate if you want, it’ll go straight to the resistance. i’m making huge lists of recommendations (books, documentaries, etc. anything that isn’t PURELY fiction for the fiction website to read something else for a change). i’m making lists of links of terms and people to look up. if you don’t want to look, fine, it will still be there if/when you do. i’m turning off my privacy blockers and re-enabling search. i’m purging my blocklist, all 11 years of it. i’m making a community, maybe communities. join if you want. there will only be limited moderation to prevent predation and sadistic cruelty. it will be 18+, not for nsfw content, but because <18 need to socialize with their own. if they want to lie and sneak in like i used to, fine, but that’s up to and on them. maybe i’ll blaze them when it’s ready. 11 years with an account on here and 2 more before that and i still can’t pony up any money besides the monthly ad free fee? it’s given so much, why not? it’s under attack too, like the internet archive. why not?

in the meantime, i’ve switched to ecosia (both search engine and browser). go check it out. there’s an invite link at the bottom. it doesn’t do anything other than say how many people have signed up using it. it doesn’t cost or confer anything. all ad revenue supports the trees they plant after every whatever number of searches. your ad blockers don’t fully work anymore anyway. the privacy toggles are equivalent to duckduckgo and much better than chrome.

the link below will take you to the android or ios app or pc. whatever.

Check this out: Ecosia plants trees when you search the web! 🌳

Join me and 20M+ others and start planting today.

https://ecosia.co/app?referrer=friends-93lihr

If you’re using an iPhone or iPad, tap here to confirm you’ve joined:

ecosia://invite/friends-93lihr

/e/os is an os running on the android open source kit. no google, no apple, all functionality.

go get it on a freephone, the completely modular and right-to-repair smartphone made of ethically and sustainably sourced recycled materials.

all of this is the same functionality you already have but free, except for the fairphone obviously. think of the discontinued amazon smile program. speaking of. this third one (raiseright) even lets you buy an amazon giftcard and use between 6-20% of the money for the nonprofit of your choice with 100% same value, if you absolutely must purchase from amazon.

of course, bookshop is always better for books.

don’t see it there? older title? go check thriftbooks.

but first check your library. this extension will automatically check any and all libraries you choose for physical, ebook, and audiobook copies.

there are always alternatives. “no ethical consumption under capitalism” is true, but you still have a choice. you always do. a new world is possible. i hope to see you there. i’m pinning this, btw, because it is 4:30 am and i doubt many people will see this. maybe blaze it later without the top screenshot portion.

[ontal]

some useful tumblr extensions!

XKit Rewritten [GitHub]

Provides a huge range of options. Including but not limited to: accessibility tools; completely hide ads and blazed posts; tag replacer; various dashboard tweaks.

GifsOnTumblr [Firefox] [Chrome]

Changes WEBP files back to GIFs on the dashboard.

Dashboard-unfucker [GitHub] originally posted by @greyias

Switches the new dasbhoard (the Twitter clone) to the old one. Includes some other useful configuration options that I haven't personally tested yet. Information and exact directions are on the page but for a quick explainer:

Install and enable Tampermonkey > click unfucker.user.js on GitHub > click "Raw" button (upper right hand corner of the code) > you're done!

[hmshermitcraft]

Villain!Scott & Tango x Hero!Jimmy

Scott, a kind, loving man AKA Chrome, an extremely manipulative and petty villain

Tango, a quiet, but cheerful guy, AKA Blaze, a ruthless and angry villain

Jimmy, an innocent, maybe even naïve man, AKA Canary, a fearless hero with a very strong sense of justice.

- 💜 (hope this makes sense)

Jimmy doesn't approve of his boyfriends' extra curriculars. He's very aware of them - he's the one tidying up the mess half the time! But he also knows their villainy isn't the real them. They're Tango and Scott! His boyfriends!

But if they rob a bank on his day off (he knows they schedule it on his days off so he can't tell them off at the scene) he will be revoking kissing privileges.

[rock-and-roll-hell]

December 22, 1977

Alive II Tour

The Spectrum - Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

From a local review: "KIϟϟ does not need songs to be an exciting stage act. The foursome, which is ranked at the top of the rock pile, has blazed a path in the musical world with its outlandish garb and hard-driving rock music. It's set records which put it in a league with the Beatles as far as audience appeal is concerned. Last night was another example of the group's drawing power. It sold out the Spectrum - a claimed attendance of 15,500 persons - many weeks in advance of the performance. And the performance itself... the music was passable, but the staging and the theatrics were the equal to any legitimate stage production. KIϟϟ has admitted in the past that its music is not its strongest point. The four have become competent musicians during the long years they have spent touring and playing together but they are far from being super musicians. The draw of KIϟϟ is its features four average musicians who are above-average actors. Not only actors but technicians in the art of generating a crowd magnetism. Last night's staging for the group's concert fell somewhere between the futuristic and the fantastic. The group played from a multi-level stage. It opened with guitarists Paul Stanley and Ace Frehley and bassist Gene Simons standing on platforms above the stage level. Drummer Peter Criss was on a platform of his own which remained more or less on one level throughout the show but even the drummer's platform was rigged for some exciting activity. As the band started to play, the upper platforms of the guitarists and bass player began to move toward stage level through their hydraulic systems and the stage simultaneously was layered with fog, blazed by a multitude of lights and was resounding with the after-shocks of planned stage explosions. The chrome and glass stage never ceased to be a marvel with its intricate lighting and design. A snake, coiled around a pole, would alternately spew fog and fire over the stage. Sections of the stage would rise 10-feet-or-more above its base to accentuate a band member's solo. Guitars exploded, lights flashed, confetti rained from above, blood flowed... there never was a point during the concert when the audience even could think of being bored. If anything, it was more like a three-ring circus and if you did not watch the show closely, you stood the chance of missing one of its more subtle nuances, although subtlety was a rarity. If the staging, pyrotechnics and related stage business does not sound flashy enough, you still have to take into consideration the costuming of the group. The members never have been pictured out of makeup. On stage, Criss is a whiskered feline; Simmons is a lizard with a long snaking tongue; Frehley is a surrealistic spaceman, and Stanley, the on-stage group leader, is the star-eyed sex symbol with an exposed hairy chest. They all dress in black, with silver accents, and wear platformed shoes of nose-bleed proportions. During the course of the show, all of the group members, with the exception of Criss, took the band's helm for solo vocals. If it seems that this review is giving the music second-billing to the show, it is because the music was secondary to the show. KIϟϟ will continue to draw astronomical numbers to its concerts as long as it, too remembers, music is not its primary message -- the show's the thing" (Bucks Co. Courier Times, 12/23/77).

[thephantomorder]

Update!

So I have gotten all of the footage that I need for it, I will be working on a video review of Blazing Chrome. Tomorrow I begin scripting. If you have any other indie games you'd like me to look at, please let me know! For reference, I like shooters, RPGs, racing, and strategy games so if you have any games that fit those molds, feel free to send them to me.

Thank you!

[emira-addams]

Hazbin Hotel - Odette x Velvette - Juliet and Juliet in Hell

Chapter 01: Drunken Demons and Dancing Devils

Velvette tilted her head back.

Clouds of light, formed from hundreds of sparkling stars, adorned the deep red night horizon of hell with their scintillating shine. Drawn by magic, Velvette stared up at the far end of the horizon, up at the spherical shape of the heaven that towered above all their heads and hell. The milky soft glow of heaven was shimmering, its brilliance a blur.

Blazing flashes of laser light cut the horizon into thousands of chunks, chasing the stars and the reigning night away as the ground seemed to shudder beneath her feet. The bass of the deafening music made the surrounding air vibrate.

The Vees' lavish mansion was filled to the bursting with guests, drunken demons and dancing devils. Valentino was having a party in his honor after his latest films had won every award in every category at the annual film festival.

A satisfied smile graced Velvette's black lips as she hastily weaved her way through the dense crowds. Spotlights colored the makeshift dance floor in the living room a somber shade of red, while blue strobe lights flashed through the stuffy room.

Long shadows danced along the walls in euphoria. White fairy lights and glittering garlands wrapped along the chrome-colored railing of the open gallery, an illuminated disco ball spun under the ceiling and balloons hung everywhere. A fog machine added to the chaos. Huge speakers stood at the sides, music blared at full volume and the low infernal sound of the bass was earsplitting.

It smelled like a pungent mixture of cheap spirits, sweet smoke and salty sweat.

People were lounging on the expensive couches in the living room, laughing and chatting with each other. Kissing couples propped up against the walls, shoving their tongues down each other's throats and groping each other. An imp drew a straight line of suspicious white powder up his nose from the smudged glass of a hand mirror. As Velvette passed him, he held out a plastic bag to her with a grin, but she rejected it with a polite smile.

A number of different dishes had been set out on a long table. Fresh fruit was piled on top of each other and a chocolate fountain stood between white porcelain and several pastries. Some guests stuck fruit after fruit onto a wooden skewer, while other sinners dipped their bare fingers into the liquid chocolate.

Velvette quickly grabbed a handful of fruits and a cup filled to the brim and retreated to a corner with her phone in hand. Here and there she snapped a photo, every now and then she sipped the liquid in her cup and let her eyes wander over the party. Vox and Valentino performed the strangest and most soppy dance number, a truly embarrassing sight. Velvette's lips cracked into a smirk as she recorded the moment for eternity and the entire internet of hell with a snapshot.

She was just about to head back to the chocolate fountain when someone caught her attention out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh, shit..." she swore and managed to choke, some of her drink landing on her dress. "What's Carmine's fucking daughter doing here?" Velvette sneered, her face scrunched in irritation. "I swear, just the sight of her spoils my mood..." She quickly drained the last liquid from her cup, squeezed the plastic and marched with quick steps towards the bright blonde girl in the lab coat in the doorway. The floor shook under the soles of her boots as Velvette pushed her way through the dense crowds. Her eyes glistened with a mix between gloom and glee, her thoughts blurred between the neon lights in the wonderful feeling of immortality and melted like caramelized sugar. Her whole body tingling, while the effects of her drink kicked in.

Outside of a cautious glance exchanged back and forth within an Overlord meeting, Velvette had never shared a single word with Carmilla Carmine's eldest daughter, as Odette held her mother's opinion and Carmilla Carmine felt a very strict and stern disapproval towards the three Vees, especially Velvette, a disapproval towards their outrageous behavior and lack of respect as well as their irresponsibility and cocky self-confidence. They were silly brats who starved for attention at every given opportunity.

Velvette wanted to have some fun with her...

"What are you doing so far away from your home and your dear mommy? Are you lost?"

"What do you want from me?" asked Odette when Velvette approached her and blocked her path. She grimaced sourly.

Velvette attempted a wide grin. "Tell me, sweetie, how many times would I theoretically have to fuck you before I get a discount for your mother's weapons?"

"Never!" Odette replied as she studied Velvette from top to bottom in disgust. "As long as I'm in my right mind, I wouldn't even dream of it..."

"Really, you wouldn't? Too bad..." Velvette pouted. "Hey!" she shouted angrily when Odette tried to push past her, completely ignoring her. "May I know the reason why you're crashing this fucking party and being pretty fucking rude to the fucking host?"

"Excuse me..." muttered Odette nervously. She cautiously adjusted her glasses and plucked at the hem of her lab coat. "But I'm looking for my younger sister..."

"You have a sister?" Velvette played dumb, but then she noticed Odette's worried face. "It was just a joke, I’m sorry... But why would your younger sister be at my party?"

Odette sighed sourly. "Clara snuck out of the house. I have to bring her back before Mother notices our disappearance."

Velvette burst out laughing, but when Odette rolled her eyes in annoyance, she grew silent again.

"Clara!" Odette tried in vain to scream against the volume of the music.

Stunned, Velvette slapped her forehead, then took the desperate girl's hand. She immediately intertwined their fingers and felt Odette's sweaty palms. "Come with me, you dumb fucking girl…" she demanded of Odette as they made their way through the crowd.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you to find your sister!”

The two of them found Clara near the chocolate fountain. A cup in her hand and a hypnotized face set, she clung to every single slurred word that came from Valentino's lips. A cloud of pink haze hovered over their heads as his tongue traveled up her arm.

"Oh, for fucking sake!" Velvette shouted, quickly letting go of Odette's hand. "This can't be real now..." She pounced on Valentino, grabbed her colleague harshly by his fur collar and pulled the clamoring moth away from Clara before his tongue could wander any further. "Are you fucking mental, Val?" she snarled furiously and shoved him away.

"Hey… Calm down, Vel!" Valentino defended himself. He snorted, wiped the dust off his robe and raised his hands apologetically. "I was just having a little fun with Carmine’s daughter. I didn’t think you would mind…," he claimed, shrugging his shoulders. "This girl could have been the next leading lady in some of my movies. I would have made her a star, any worthless freak in hell would have known her name," he gushed before leaving Velvette and heading back to Vox.

Velvette scowled at the moth, while Odette quickly pulled her younger sister into a relieved and smothering hug.

"O-Odette? W-What... What are you doing here?" babbled Clara. Clumsily, she tried to free herself from her worried sister's arms, but her balance swayed precariously and Odette and Velvette had to support her.

"I came to save you before our mother finds out that neither you nor I are in our beds in our safe home sleeping..." Together, she and Velvette dragged her sister back to the door.

Velvette casted a worried look at the clock. "You must hurry..." With every passing second, the light from the stars faded more, soon the night would be over.

"Thank you for your help!" Saying goodbye, Odette pressed a quick kiss to Velvette's cheek, the next moment she and her sister were out the door and gone from the party.

"Y-You are welcome..." stuttered Velvette, wide-eyed. She stared after her with a stunned stare as the heat rose up her face and the blush gathered in her cheeks. Suddenly, her heart began to do wild somersaults in her chest. “Fuck…”

Chapter 02: