#Blazing Chrome

[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!!!

[mysteamgrids]

Blazing Chrome

[mahoganygold213]

Christian Siriano| Spring Summer 2024

[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.

[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.

[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!

[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).

[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:

[meadowziplines]

#IFD2024 Feedback Fest: 10 Dreamling Fic Recs

10 Dreamling Fic Recs // 10 Gen Sandman Fic Recs // 10 Femslash Sandman Fic Recs // 10 Fic Recs For Other Fandoms

I have not provided additional cw's beyond what is in the summary; please check work tags before reading.

I didn't tend to include authors whose works are already quite popular. Also, it was hard picking these and I love many more fics! And feel free to tag in authors whose Tumblr handles I don't know.

(G-M)

[T] Now I Lay Me by Cheshyr/@five-and-dimes (10.5k): Dream is the Dreaming and the Dreaming is Him. So he tries to take one of those out of the equation. (A magical suicide attempt and how Dream's loved ones save him.)

[T] Tread of an Echo by LivingProof (14.1k): Hob Gadling does not free Dream of the Endless from his prison in the Burgess estate. There is no grand rescue. No barging in, guns blazing, no daring adventure, no dashing escape. There is only this, after. Pints in the New Inn and coffee and conversation in Hob’s office and the slow, slow building of a bridge, brick by brick. Hob does not free Dream from his prison. But he might help save Dream, all the same.

[T] Echo of a Myth by LivingProof (64.1k): Dream seeks to neutralize what is left of the Order of Ancient Mysteries. It should be a simple matter. But while the Endless may be many things, they are as prone to repeating old mistakes as anyone. Or: Dream misses another appointment. This time, Hob is determined to find out why.

[T] to make a heaven of hell by katheneverwrites (mandolinearts)/@mandolinearts (5.7k): "Where did you get this?" Hob’s exclamation is almost, almost incredulous. He can see Dream’s handwriting on the paper sticking out. It’s in pencil because Dream preferred saving ink. He would also chew the end of the pencil when he was deeply focused. Hob would never dare mention this to him.

"Found it in the fireplace," the man says as if stating the obvious. The lenses of his sunglasses glint. The sky is still clouded over. "You should know - manuscripts don't burn," he shoots Hob a smirk and hands him the folder.

An urban fantasy AU heavily inspired by the novel Master and Margarita by Michail Bulgakov.

[T] watch the world from the sidelines by hondayotas (11.1k): dream has always been on the periphery of life, never wanting to get his hands messy, but hob gadling is pulling him in more than he'd like to admit.

[T] it is not a language we know (yet) by Chrome (1.2k): “Alright,” Hob said. “So. Decide what sin you’re letting go of, and—let it go. That’s it, huh? It feels too easy.” He broke off a large piece and held it over the edge of the bridge, waiting.

“It isn’t,” Dream said softly.

Notes: Obligatory Rosh Hashanah fic! Shana tovah, friends.

[T] Galaxies on the Floor by aliaoftwoworlds (55.9k): Hob hadn’t planned to confess his immortality to anyone, but it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, and he turned out to be very grateful for it one day as he and his most knowledgeable student knelt on the floor of a classroom beside the smoldering body of a demon, trying to hold down a writhing, shapeshifting creature that usually masqueraded as Hob’s man-shaped lover.

[M] If I Am Nothing, If I Am Trying by Lost_Elf/@lostelfwriting (6.5k): The Endless family has some skeletons in their closets, and they tend to get between Morpheus and Hob.

(this was a gift for me and wahhh <3)

(E)

[E] By the Dead of Morning by Essie (39.7k): When Despair is killed by the Kindly Ones for spilling family blood, she departs to the sunless lands, never to return. Thus, Hob Gadling, a lowly mercenary living in London in 1389, becomes Hope of the Endless.

Over six hundred years later, Death takes him out for a drink, Desire in tow, to the Tavern of the White Horse, where he meets Morpheus, a down on his luck mortal crying into his sangria after a recent break-up. Desire believes that Morpheus’s death wish is genuine and that he will be dead within a year, but Hope is certain the man has too much to live for. Death offers a solution, she will not take Morpheus until he asks for her gift, but as soon as he does, she will grant it.

Hob approaches Morpheus with every intention of winning a bet, but Hob is the youngest Endless by far and doesn’t know the family’s full complicated history. Or their connection to Morpheus.

A reverse-verse, canon divergent AU.

[E] it's warm, the skin i'm living in by hardly_an_escape (2.4k): Hob realizes Dream is being a little… extra creative when it comes to their love life. When he asks his boyfriend what’s going on, some of Dream’s deep-seated fears are revealed. One part fun shapeshifting sex, one part Dream being incredibly insecure, one part immortals being disgustingly in love with each other.

[alpha-beta-gamer]

undefined

Vengeful Guardian: Moonrider is a brutal and action packed Sci-Fi arcade action game from the Blazing Chrome devs! Read More & Play The Beta Demo, Free (Steam)

Gameplay Video:

[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!

[closetdystopia]

//////////

In the neon sprawl of our city made from metal and misery, I see traces of old data: a love lost in the chrome wars, a youth fragged by corpo greed, a world flatlined by black ICE. But the neon's blaze burns brighter than any system crash, and for a brief moment in the netrun, I can reboot from the pain.

//////////

>> Ash

[wyamwyam]

Cruisin' Sunset Dreams: A Californian Tale in Neon and Chrome

Rolling down the iconic Pacific Coast Highway, a vintage Countach with its top down embraced the Californian sunset in a blaze of neon hues. The palm-lined streets echoed with synthwave beats as the retro-futuristic ride cruised toward the horizon, the embodiment of 80s nostalgia against the backdrop of the Golden State's endless possibilities. Parked on a Malibu overlook, the Countach became a symbol of timeless cool, where the past and the future merged under the warm glow of a Californian evening.