Gender:
Status:
Age: 43
Sign:
Gemini
Country: United States
Signup Date: July 19, 2023 |
|
|
|
Showing 1 to
7 of 7 Blogs |
1
|
|
|
05/15/2026
|
Straw Hats of the Caribbean
Tracks had expected a simple cleanup job — well, as simple as anything involving Dinobot Island’s unstable time-displacement energy could be — but the moment he, Seaspray, and Cliffjumper reached the Caribbean coordinates, the ocean itself seemed to ripple with trouble. A glowing rift tore open above the water, and out of it drifted a full wooden pirate ship, sails snapping, cannons primed, and a crew shouting in a dialect that belonged in a museum. The ship wasn’t just lost; it was a nautical-predator. It locked onto a nearby luxury yacht where many bikini‑clad Sports Illustrated swimsuit models were sunbathing, blissfully unaware of the centuries‑old nightmare bearing down on them. When suddenly grappling hooks flew, the cannons boomed, and all the girls shrieked and scrambled for cover.
Seaspray hit the waves like a hydro‑powered battering ram, engines roaring. “Hey! Back off, ya barnacle‑covered bilge rats!” he bellowed, throwing up a wall of spray that forced the pirates to stagger. Cliffjumper transformed mid‑air and landed on the yacht’s deck with a heavy metallic thud, planting himself between the terrified girls and the incoming hooks. “Cool it 'Long John',” he snarled, “try that again and you’re gonna wish you stayed at Disneyland.”
Then Tracks descended — and of course he made an entrance. He glided overhead in gleaming flight‑mode, sunlight dancing across his immaculate finish. His voice floated down like velvet dipped in superiority. “Oh honestly… attacking unarmed civilians? In broad daylight? Have you no shame?” He then fired a precise burst that sheared the pirate ship’s mast clean off, sending it crashing into the sea. The pirates panicked, stumbling across the deck as the Autobots closed in.
Seaspray rammed the hull, full-throttle, pushing the ship sideways. Cliffjumper blasted the grappling hooks loose before they could latch onto the yacht. Tracks swooped low, releasing a laser burst from his black beam gun that rattled the timbers and sent several pirates tumbling as the deck fell into temporary darkness. The combined force drove the vessel backward, inch by inch, toward the still‑open portal. The rift’s pull intensified, dragging the ship toward its own century. With one final coordinated shove — Seaspray grabbed the stern and pushed from below, Cliffjumper fired at the rudder, and Tracks delivered a stylish, yet strafing run — the pirate ship slid fully into the glowing vortex. The portal snapped shut with a single crack of light.
The bikini models, including Alix Earle and Hilary Duff, peeked out from behind Cliffjumper, trembling but unharmed. Just as Seaspray gave them a reassuring wave. Tracks hovered above, admiring his reflection in the yacht’s polished railing. “Well,” he said, “at least someone here appreciates a dramatic rescue. I do try and it always shows."
But the victory lasted only seconds...the sea beneath Tracks began to distort again, swirling with unstable energy. Cliffjumper shouted for him to pull back, but the vortex expanded too quickly. The event horizon snapped around Tracks like a steel trap, dragging him forward with irresistible force. Blaster, still in boombox mode in the passenger seat, shouted, “Yo! Tracks! We’re gettin’ sucked in like a bad remix, man!” But it was too late...in a blinding flash, the Caribbean vanished.
When Tracks’ sensors stabilized, he found himself hovering above a vast stretch of open sea — but the sky was wrong, the air was wrong, the world itself felt older. His internal chronometer spat out the answer: the early 1730s. Tracks transformed smoothly into his gleaming flight‑mode blue Corvette, hovering just above the waves. Even displaced by centuries, his finish still caught the morning light in a way that pleased him. “Well,” he sighed, “this is certainly not the Riviera.”
Blaster scanned the empty airwaves. “Man, I’m tellin’ ya — this place is dead. No radio, no TV, no jams, no nothin’. We’re sittin’ two‑hundred‑fifty years before prime time. And Optimus? Still nappin’ in the Ark till ’84. So unless you’re hidin’ a time machine under that shiny hood, we’re flyin’ solo, baby.”
Tracks let out a long, elegant groan, “Marvelous...stranded in the past with no civilization, no roads, and no one to appreciate my finish. Truly, the universe has impeccable timing.”
Before he could continue, the air above them tore open again. Another portal ripped reality apart, and two figures tumbled out — a tangerine‑haired girl and a blond boy dressed like a waiter, both early twenties but hitting the water with the startled flail of toddlers. They splashed into the shallows, sputtering. Tracks jerked back in alarm. “HEY! Watch it, you could’ve chipped my paint!” His voice cracked upward in that perfect Harvard lockjaw indignation. The two kids blinked up at him, soaked and confused. Tracks’ tone softened, though he tried to hide it behind exasperation. “Well… given you appear just as lost as we are, you may as well hop on. We need to find land, and I doubt either of you wants to swim home.”
Nami clung to his rear spoiler like it was a lifeline. Sanji grabbed the door handle with both hands, shivering. Blaster chuckled, warm and amused, voice rolling like a 80's DJ easing into a groove. “Looks like we got ourselves some stowaways, Tracks. Better make room — this party just got bigger.”
Tracks sighed, long and theatrical. “Yes, well… let’s try not to scuff anything. Honestly, I just had brand new detailing and polish yesterday, people.”
|
|
|
04/14/2026
|
Indiana Jones and the Key of Eternity
The year was 1936, and the humid air of the Caribbean night practically hummed with unnatural electricity. Deep within a fortified concrete bunker hidden by dense jungle canopy, Johann Schmidt stood before a colossal, humming generator. At its center, suspended in a crackling cage of blue energy, was a piece of the Transwarp Key—an artifact older than the Earth itself, pulled dripping from the ocean floor. Arrogant and impatient, Schmidt ignored the frantic warnings of his scientists and threw the primary lever, engaging the island's experimental energy-dampening grid in a foolish attempt to leash the artifact's power. Instead of stabilizing, the ancient metal shrieked. A shockwave of pure, localized chronal energy exploded outward, shattering the bunker’s reinforced glass and ripping jagged, bleeding holes directly into the fabric of the multiverse. Across time and space, the Key acted like a cosmic magnet, violently yanking its helpless targets through the void. In a Westchester mansion, reality tore open mid-strike just as Emma Frost brutally dismantled the crumbling, corrupted mind of Wanda Maximoff, swallowing both women in a flash of blinding light. High above the Statue of Liberty, Spider-Man was ripped from mid-air during a catastrophic dimensional fracture, his web-line snapping into nothingness. Centuries in the past, Nami and Sanji laid their hands on a strange, sunken relic in the 1520 Caribbean, only for the ocean to vanish around them, replaced by a screaming vortex. In the blink of an eye, Zatanna, mid-incantation, and Abbie Mills, sprinting through a supernatural anomaly, were violently pulled into the exact same chaotic slipstream.
Just off the coast of the island, a German U-boat’s torpedo abruptly sheared through the hull of a dilapidated tramp steamer, sending Indiana Jones plunging into the churning, rain-swept sea. Grabbing a piece of driftwood, the weary archaeologist washed ashore on a black-sand beach, coughing up seawater and cursing his eternal bad luck. But as he wiped the salt from his eyes, the sky above the jungle tore open with a deafening crack. Unceremoniously dumped onto the wet sand and tangled roots came a rain of impossibly dressed strangers: a kid in red spandex, a furious telepath in white, a pirate navigator, a blonde chef shouting in confusion, a bewildered FBI agent, and two powerful magic-users. As the rift snapped shut, leaving them stranded in the shadow of the Nazi compound, Wanda instinctively threw out her hands to weave a reality-warping hex—but beneath Schmidt's oppressive dampening field, not a single spark of red magic appeared.
|
|
|
02/17/2026
|
The Twice-Turned Hourglass
The grandfather clock in the foyer of the manor didn’t tick; it thrummed, a heartbeat made of brass and ancient wood, counting down the seconds until the curse demanded its due.
Jeremy Crane stood before the mirror in the grand library, adjusting the collar of his silk shirt. The face staring back was sharp, handsome, and dangerous—the face of a man in his prime. He possessed the chaotic charisma of a predator, the charm that masked a soul rotting with ambition. But behind him, lounging on the velvet chaise with a glass of wine that looked suspiciously like blood, was Wanda.
Not Petra. Not yet.
Right now, she was Wanda Maximoff. Her hair was a tumble of auburn, her eyes wide and glowing with that familiar, catastrophic scarlet. She looked at him, and for a fleeting second, Jeremy felt that twisted ache in his chest—the one that confused her power with the memory of his mother, Katrina. It was the nurturing warmth of magic, the promise of protection, even if it was wrapped in madness.
"You're staring, Jeremy," Wanda murmured, her voice a low hum that vibrated against his ribcage. "Five minutes."
"Five minutes until I lose my youth," he corrected, turning to face her. "Until we lose it."
"It’s a fair trade," she countered, swirling the wine. "You dragged me out of the void to turn me into a battery. You wanted to siphon the Darkhold’s stain from my soul to fuel your own immortality. I simply... adjusted the terms."
She stood up, the movement fluid and predatory. When she closed the distance between them, the air tasted like ozone and burnt sage. She reached up, cupping his jaw. When she looked at him, she didn't just see a warlock; she saw the hard, metallic resolve of a man who believed the ends justified the means. She saw the helmet of Magneto in the shadow of Henry’s brow—the father who would burn the world to save his own kind.
"You tried to eat me, Henry," she whispered, using his true name. "So I made sure we’d starve together."
"I adore you," he replied, and he meant it. It was a love born of mutual corruption, a romance forged in the fires of the dark arts.
Then, the clock struck six.
It didn't hurt anymore. That was the tragedy of it. The pain had been replaced by a sickening sensation of stretching and withering.
Jeremy gasped as his spine stiffened, the fluid grace of youth evaporating into the brittle authority of age. His jawline softened, his hair bleaching into a distinguished white. The chaotic hunger in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a terrifying, calculating intelligence. He was no longer Jeremy Crane, the dashing rogue. He was Henry Parrish, the Sin Eater, old and burdened by too many sins.
In his arms, Wanda dissolved. The auburn darkened, the skin losing its flushed elasticity, gaining the porcelain, statuesque elegance of a queen. She grew taller, colder. The wild witch was gone, replaced by the regal, imperious presence of a woman—beautiful, but in a way that commanded fear rather than lust.
She stepped back, her movements now measured and precise. She was Petra now. The name she wore like a widow’s veil, a tribute to the brother she had lost a lifetime ago.
Henry coughed, his voice dropping an octave, becoming gravelly and rich. "Twelve hours of winter, my dear."
Petra smoothed the skirt of her dress, her fingers long and elegant. She looked at Henry—at the wrinkles etched by dark magic and time—and smiled. It was a cold smile, but possessive.
"The sun has set, Henry," Petra said, her voice crisp and icy. "The children have had their fun. It is time for the adults to work."
She walked to the massive grimoire open on the desk. The Darkhold energy crackled between them, a tether that neither could break, binding the motherless son and the fatherless daughter in a cycle of eternal twilight.
"Shall we begin?" Henry asked, joining her at the book, his old hand covering hers.
"We shall," Petra replied. "There is a world to break, after all."
|
|
|
01/18/2026
|
The Return of the Surfer
Galactus, a huge cosmic threat had been defeated by the Fantastic Four, with some help from his own herald, the Silver Surfer. Years had passed calmly. Little known to all a new threat was emerging from Latveria.
In space, Shalla-Bal, the Silver Surfer roamed. She had managed to survive pushing Galactus into the portal created by Reed Richards, but now she had no real place to go. Home was the first thought, but when she arrived, the hero's welcome she thought she would receive was not what she got.
Her people, once proud and saddened by her sacrifice to save them, now looked at her with disgrace. She was no hero. She was just as bad as Galactus. Destroying lives. Destroying worlds. Sacrificing the many. They asked her to leave and never return. And so she did.
|
|
|
04/22/2024
|
Dark Genesis
In a different reality on a similar Earth disasters not heroics befell Angel and his Hyperion family. Wolfram and Hart had grown tired of dealing with the vampire with a soul and his meddling associates and moved up their time table. The sorcery they were to unleash would destroy the cosmos and rewrite it in their image. A plan they affectionately called Dark Genesis, which Lilah Morgan was spearheading for the Senior Partners.
Angel found out about this dastardly project and enlisted aid from Wesley and Willow on the best options on what could be done. Willow suggested using the Darkhold, which Wesley was against since it corrupts the wielder to their darkest temptations. He was of course right but failed to mention his fall from grace as he had pledged his soul to the firm for love of Lilah.
During the final battle all was lost and both sides all but destroyed in the conflict. Wesley tried to kill Angel right after he staked Darla, but Cordelia jumped in front and sacrificed herself giving Spike the moment to slice the ex-watchers head off with an axe. Lilah consumed with anger destroyed Spike along with Buffy and Xander right in front of Willow. Willow then obliterated Lilah from existence after seeing her best friends murdered before her.
When it was all over the only ones left standing were Angel, Willow, and Giles. All the vampire could say to the grieving woman was I'm sorry. To which a anger and tearing filled Willow ended his existence much like she did Lilah and proceeded to get the Darkhold that was until Giles trapped her with a binding spell. He had seen the road she had gone down with Tara's death and was not going to see a repeat. He banished her out of reality but before he could do the same to the book, it crumbled to dust due to a spell of Wanda Maximoff of Earth 616.
But she did not stay quiet and departed for even though her body was gone thanks to the Watcher. Her mind and spirit still existed and became overran with grieving anger followed by madness. She was going to get her family back, protect them and all forms of her family in the multiverse and destroy anyone, especially an Angel, that got in her way.
To do this her mind took over the Willow of the current era, and decided to slowly put her dark plans into play. Along with getting the last form of the Darkhold, which for some unknown reason was not destroyed in this reality like all others by the Scarlet Witch.
Though speaking of Wanda, another version of her from Earth-97 felt the Darkhold and the twisted form of Willow enter this reality. So she ventured forth thanks to a temporal bodyslide in hopes of saving this reality. Though given the evil things the other version of her had did she wondered if anyone would believe her in time.
|
|
|
02/22/2024
|
Firefly~The Return of Starbuck
 Some believe life didn't start on Earth but out there in the cosmos of space. Some even believe that certain sons and daughters still fight in the heavens just for survival. One such story is of the Battlestar Galactica, a spaceship that was the combination of an aircraft carrier and a battleship merged. It's now sole purpose was leading a rag tag fleet of the last surviving humans of the twelve colonies to the thirteenth, Earth. Their hope was that this last planet could be the safe haven and protection for their people from the Cylon Empire. The Cylons were a machine race with one sole purpose they wete determined to wipe out all organic life. So each day was often a conflict as one group of pilots in fighter crafts fought another for survival and space superiority. One particular pilot was named Starbuck he was the best pilot of the fleet, not to mention a renowned card player and ladies man. Unfortunately on one unexpected day his luck didn't hold out and he was shot down on a desolate planet. His fellow pilots wanted to mount a rescue but unfortunately the opposing Cylon Empire was too great and they had to withdrawal. So once pride of the service was now maroon for all eternity left alone on a globe he named 'Starbuck's Planet'. He thought it was his penance from fate for all the selfish things he had done in his life. Save for a few unexpected situations the next five years were quiet and peaceful. Unknown to the pilot but his fleet did make it to Earth in 1980. Another fact he did not know was one day out of the year the planet he was on phase shifted and what was a second for him, over a century had passed for the galaxy. The year was now 2517, the technology that the Galactica had given Earth greatly accelerated mankind's space quests but not always for the better. The Alliance that Starbuck and his friend Apollo had encountered had made contact with Earth and over a century became its sovereign rulers. This of course led to more than one conflict and war over the years. A certain small ship by the name of Serenity, a Firefly class ship, and her crew often opposed the Alliance and its dark regime. Today for its Captain Malcolm Reynolds, was not a good day, though often when was it ever. Serenity was overworked and usually under repaired, not due to her chief mechanic Kaylee Frye but due to lack of money which meant lack of parts and services. One such thing that was causing problems was the environmental controls, in short the cabin was feeling full of CO2 instead of an Oxygen Nitrogen mix. So reluctantly and with Alliance cruisers on their tail they sat down on the closest safe desolate planet they could find. With hopes they could vent out the cabin, repair the systems, and avoid detection by the closing warships. Little did they know this particular planet was home to one sole surviving Colonial Warrior. Who had seen the Firefly land and realized it was neither from the Colonial Fleet or their robotic adversaries the Cylons. But it didn't matter who it was it could be his ticket off this rock, not to mention a hot meal, and fresh shower. So the Viper pilot approached the vessel with armed caution but right before he was upon it he felt a gun barrel tip on the back of his neck as his pistol was taken from him. Starbuck muttered to himself, "Frak," as he turned around to face a heavily armed bearded man by the name of Jayne Cobb. Jayne wasn't really a man of the people, some would say just calling him a man might be to far. Nonetheless he had caught the pilot before him, not due to cleverness but due to Starbuck being combat rusty and too much eagerness after five years of desolation. Jayne yelled out, "Mal, got a live one over here, he's got a uniform but doesn't smell like the Alliance. Hell he smells worse than me an that ain't my fault. Someone needs ta fix the showers on the ship my pee has more strength than our sprayer." Mal approached the stranger with his revolver and sighed at Jayne, "As lovely as it would be to hear more of your daily complaints I hear everyday Jayne. Let's not be rude to our new 'friend' here and force him to hear your annoying details. So Mister, who are you? Friend or Foe, and what is the idea of sneaking up on me and my crew with a pistol?"........
|
|
|
07/19/2023
|
The Gem of Amara
The necklace was procured by Abby and her husband as a gift from gypsies. For many years they allowed this group to camp on their lands near the property line for free with no payments, all they asked in return was kindness and to treat the land with respect. Suspected but never confirmed this particular group had a direct lineage line to the ones that cursed Angel. It is unknown however that the gypsies knew Darla was now a vampire, and gave the necklace to Abby to protect her.
The necklace was said to be able to bring the good parts of ones self to the surface no matter how dark the soul. Darla's childhood friend wore it all her life and helped to power it up with goodness that came from her happy and thankful soul. Abby's mother had died in childbirth and she never knew her father who died at sea. The orphanage gave her the last name Smythe however she took the last name Addams when she took Darla's place in adoption and later her adopted families name Crichton. Her family is thought to be ancestors of Michael Crichton, who wrote Jurassic Park among many other popular and successful novels. Her husband's name was James Summers and though Darla doesn't know, the Doctor confirmed James and Abby are direct ancestors to Buffy and Dawn. In fact Dawn bears a striking resemblance to Abby which Darla has most definitely noticed but never spoke of given her childhood pain and loss.
The necklace itself slowly bonded with Darla's spirit and over the decades brought her light side back and given its center is the silhouette of a cat. Though the jewel itself is said to have been forged at the same time Excalibur was and has a link to the Arthurian legends. She has for a better expression nine lives to live which would present her with longer than normal life span. When removed from Darla for any period of time she retains all good this object has given her but without her it now becomes a dark cursed symbiotic object. The object draws on light and good energy and transverses it to Darla's being from happy childhood memories to inspirational positive thoughts. That is why this particular Darla usually has her upper body uncovered as much as possible she feels so happy and alive doing so. The Doctor also knows but has never told Darla that the Gem of Amara is unnecessary given she is almost super human abilities and performance thanks to her belly ring. For lack of a better term she is like an vampire Wonder Woman minus a magic lasso of course.
Wolfram and Hart wish to use its now dark nature to bring the dark side of humanity to the surface along with the dark side of all the known benevolent magical objects in existence and symbiotic link them to the ring. Therefore a new dark age of man would transpire and no man or no vampire could stop it. Except King Arthur and that would require a trip to Avalon in the present or a trip to Camelot of the past something the Doctor wishes to avoid. To obtain this the Doctor had chosen different eras in history where Darla was indisposed, distracted, or unconscious whether to pleasure, pain or more to grab this item. In parts of the story these early attempts might likely fail which might entice Buffy and company to seek out additional professional help in this area.
|
|
Back to Posts
|
