Thursday 26 December 2019

To the viewers of Hana's TG Captions

Despite the time I've spent on this blog, posting and not posting alike, I've always maintained that I'd come back to it. However that has not been the case. Now it has recently passed the 300,000 view mark and I'm honestly thrilled.

I'll be honest and say that chances of me coming back are low, I don't enjoy making captions anymore and its been about half a year since I last posted here. I burned myself out by doing three captions every single day and it was honestly a big mistake. Instead I prefer to work on longer stories, a couple of which I've posted here, however I tend to post these on deviantart. You can find me here, posting on a semi-frequent basis and a non-existent schedule.

I hope to see you all there!

Hana

Wednesday 19 June 2019

Another Excellent TG Caption Blog

Despite the fact that I'm currently not producing TG captions regularly, I'm not totally out of the loop when it comes to amazing, new blogs and that's just the case here with the wonderful Killstardo and his blog linked below! Please check him out because it's a sin he's not got more views!

Tuesday 5 March 2019

An Alien Arrival


It was a hot day on the isolated beach in Vietnam. The sun was beating down on the hot sands of the warm beach. Large columns of rock with heavy greenery coating them sprout out of the cool water, breaking up the smooth surface with pillars of grey and green. The sand that acts as a border between the sea and land is a delicious mixture of cool shade and burning hot where the sun was touching down. There isn’t even a single piece of rubbish across the whole expanse of the closed off beach, attributed to its isolation from the rest of the world thanks to two large walls of rock that close off the sea surrounding the area and the thick canopy of lush jungle inland that prevents any non-amphibious approach. The only way into the isolated paradise was through a gash in the wall of rock that runs from the very top all the way down to the sea floor more than 50 feet down and 10 feet below the waterline at low tide. The only sign of humans ever being present was a single, small and quite rotten wooden jetty for very small craft and an equally rotten old Vietnamese cabin.

The only sound that interrupted the perfect quiet and natural sounds from the jungle was the dull roar of an outboard engine as a small craft slips through the large crack and steers to the right of the lagoon and sputters to a stop at the jetty. The only person on the vessel steps off and grabs a bulky red backpack with a smile on her face as she looks around the beach they’d just landed on.
“This place is fucking gorgeous! It’s gonna look so good on my Chatsnap!”

The woman who strolls down the jetty is tan, her skin a dark copper, and has two tails of blonde hair that hang down to her shoulders. A pair of blue lensed and white framed glasses rest on her nose and over her chocolate brown eyes. She hums softly along with her music being blared into her ears by a pair of black and gold over-ear headphones, connected to the pink gold phone in her left hand as she grabs a bundle of green fabric with a long metal pole sticking out of it with her other hand. Already she’s taking photos on said phone with her free hand, snapping away at the natural paradise she’d intruded on. On her feet she’s wearing a pair of blue flip-flops that make a small “PAF” when they hit the sand. Her body this thick and curvy, every step making her entire form jiggle slightly. A bit of belly hangs ever so slightly down over the band holding up her black bikini bottom. Her top struggles to contain her large, ripe chest straining to hold back the beautiful orbs.

Megyn chuckles softly as she finds a good spot in the sun and starts to unpack her bag. She lays a red and black towel down on the sand and puts up the ugly green parasol that she was holding in her hand that wasn’t occupied by the phone. After two more trips, she brings a second bag, a small foldup tent and a bulky cooler of bottles that rattle loudly as she places it down in the sand.

Without a care in the world, she lounges in the sun with a book, drinking icy beers and soft drinks from the cooler for hours as the sun slowly moves through the sky as the hours tick on. Eventually Megyn seems to grow restless and stands up from her prone position, putting her book down after folding the corner to mark her place. With a smile, she kicks off her flip-flops, puts down her headphones and sunglasses dashing over the scolding sand and into the cool water of the lagoon.
She ducks and dives, cooling herself down as she does so. Eventually she spots something on the sandy floor of the pool of water and dives down deeper to investigate it. Megyn approaches the shape and starts to examine it; it looks like a barrel and has a smooth, black exterior that has a squared pattern lined with grey across its hull. One end is a rounded cone with what appear to be scorch marks on it and is embedded deeply into the sand, leaving the rest to jut off the seabed at an awkward angle. The other has several small cones sticking out of it that are all hollow with damage that reminds Megyn of an exhaust. Then Megyn sees something that makes her start to violently thrash to reach the surface: a section of the hull had come out of the rest and had slid out along the surface like a sliding door. A bulbous head of a wormlike creature stuck out and spotted Megyn immediately.
It quickly chased after her, coiling its body and swishing it behind itself to propel it through the water at a surprising speed. Megyn broke the surface and started swimming hard, not able or wanting to look behind her in fear of what she’d see. The water foams behind her as the smooth, black, eel-like creature rises out of the water before plunging down in a semi-circle form, doing this again and again, making a series of arcs that periodically enter and rise from the water. Megyn works hard, desperately ploughing through the water to the shore, her chunky hips powering her forward, but the creature was catching up.

“G-Gotta get to shore! Gotta get to shore! Gotta get t-to shore!” Megyn half grunted, half wailed in fear as she felt the water get shallow enough to stand. Safety was mere steps away…
Her feet hit sand as she stands up once she reaches the shallows and she quickly trudges to the safety of the sand. But just before she reaches it, she feels something coil around her ankles and trip her up. She manages to catch a glimpse of the thick black coil before she crashes down into the water. Megyn tried to scream as she clawed at the sand to pull herself the last meter or so but found the wet sand was impossible to grip. She could feel the creatures head prodding at her ass as if it were searching for something.

An entry.

“No!”

With a scream from Megyn, the serpentine creature found what it was looking for and rammed hard against Megyn’s black swimsuit only to be halted twice before it gives up that approach. It then shoves its head between her meaty thighs and the tight, black latex wrapped around them. It starts to shove its way deeper into her crack, parting the cheeks until it reaches her asshole. With a delighted squirm at this new species easily accessed entry way, it slid into her and kept going until its entire slimy length were inside her. Halfway through this process, Megyn stood up and started limping towards the shore with the long tail of the creature half-way up her ass, squirming to wriggle deeper inside.

“S-Shore… get… to… Shore…” Megyn stammered as she felt the creature wriggling through her body, making her twitch in unnatural ways as it started to poke and prod at the tip of her spinal column. Finally she felt her feet hit the dry sand, leaving wet footprints as she stumbled forward in the safe haven she tried to think she was in. Megyn jerked one last time as the creature tapped into her nervous system and took control away from her brain.

It felt like she was paralysed, but she could feel every little movement her body was making as it slowly and clumsily rose from the sandy ground and proceeded to grab handfuls of her huge tits as a twisted smile spread over her face. Megyn could feel her mind being pushed back, still present and watching everything but unable to command anything in her body to move at all.

With a sickening giggle, the creature’s bulge on her back seems to sink into her as it repositions itself below her skin as it forces her body to continue groping herself. Soon it grows bored of mere groping and plops itself down onto the already set up towel and wriggles its way out of the latex thong before tossing it aside.

oH yEs… THiS wIlL WorK nICelY…” ‘Megyn’ grunts happily, her voice slightly gurgled and distorted much like how a baby who was just learning to speak would sound, as her hands start to kneed at its crotch. Before it can go further with its crotch, the creature cranes it’s neck over to examine its stolen behind. Soft, brown skin is perfectly spread over a wonderfully pert ass made of two large and round pillowy cushions of flesh that sag slightly due to the size. The black latex bikini bottom is pulled tight over the ass, the "Y" shape of the band that holds them up appearing suddenly from between the twin hills of perfection. There isn't even a hint of sag on the blemishless surface and the only creases start where the ass meets thigh. Finally satisfied by its examination of the rear, it turns back to its crotch. A single finger slipped between her warm, wet folds and starts to slide in and out, trial and error showing the creature what makes its new body feel good. With one hand thrusting its fingers into its crotch and the other kneading at its stolen, tanned melons, the creature started to moan quietly at first but slowly getting louder and louder as its pleasure rises like a fire burning in its groin and spreading through its veins like a wildfire. Soon the animalistic assault on its crotch gave way to results and it found its host spraying some hot, sticky white fluids down her copper thighs and onto the towel. With a curious mind, the creature scoops some up on its fingers and, to the horror of Megyn, licks it off its fingers after getting a wiff of the wonderfully sweet juices. Going back for more, the creature hungrily slurped up its own juices as if it were starved for days. Soon, her thighs were bare and the desire the creature had felt faded.

After looking around briefly, it catches sight of the small boat that had carried the creature’s new vessel and its prior owner to this place and slowly walks over to it. After gathering the object that had been littered around the beach, the creature slowly began to work out how to start the engine and quickly did so. The roar of the engine returned to the Lagoon and slowly vanished as ‘Megyn’ steered her craft out of the rocky enclosure and towards the distant signs of a larger populace it had sighted on its decent more than fifty years before. It was a scout and it had a job to do…

Thursday 28 February 2019

Oh Bugger Me...


“Oh bugger me…” Bayonetta sighed as she saw the four Affinity swooping down towards her as she strolled out of the Church. Their golden and white wings were outstretched; their heavy golden weapons glittered slightly as light from the moon hit them. Their decrepit and inhuman bodies twisted as they braced for landing, hitting the dirt with a dull thud. Immediately, all four spread out before starting to advance on the black-clad witch.

Of course, she wasn’t annoyed by the appearance of the four but more the bullets she’d waste ripping them to pieces. But business was business in the mind of the Umbra Witch as she drew her heavy, red handguns and pulled back the hammers, purring slightly like a happy cat as she heard the click of the hammer’s locking mechanism. Two of the Affinity looked at each other, their red faces cocking slightly, before they both turned back and lunged forward, looking to pierce the ‘human’s’ soft belly flesh. Of course, this didn’t go well as the first was floored with a single kick, now stuck under a black heel and the second was hit by a volley of bullets, launching it backwards into a wall, letting out one last little moan of pain before it slumped to the ground dead.

The second pair now struck, trying to reach their comrade who was trapped under the Witch’s shoe. Bayonetta holstered one of her guns and grabbed the first by its read head and lifted it clean off the floor before using it like a flail and spinning it round her raven-haired head before battering the second with its limp body several times until both stopped moving. Bayonetta pursed her lips and nodded as she looked at the dead trio before looking down at the last one left alive. Just as she was about to blow its brains out by firing her heel-gun into its head, she stopped as she saw something in its hand; a lollipop.

“Oh my… Giving me presents now, are you? Such a lovely little Affinity you are…” The Witch chuckled as she reached down and plucked the sweet treat from the low tiered Angel’s grip. Having second thoughts, she removed her foot from the Angel’s head and started walking away, choosing not to get holy blood on her leg just yet. After spinning the stick around her fingers a few times as she walked away, she popped it into her mouth and spun on her heel, raising her second handgun to the Angel.

Then she felt something strange.

Her hand was locked in place, the barrel not wavering even slightly as it was level with the Angel’s skull, all it would take to kill it was one single squeeze of one finger, but it was also locked in place. Her eyes winded and her mouth opened in shock, the lollipop falling from her plump lips, still moist from her mouth as she realized what had happened. She’d been paralyzed.

“Blast…” She grumbled as she looked at the chittering Angel as it approached, careful and curious. “I don’t suppose you could take the gun and finish yourself off for Mummy?”

The Affinity then quickly lunged backwards and seized its staff. The head was shaped like a depiction of the sun, a symbol of angelic might, and was pointed at with three spikes, each separated by one of four half-moon blades. In the center was a rose, in the same gold as the rest of the head. Yet despite the standard look of the weapon it held in its hands, Bayonetta could tell that something was different about this one. Her theory was confirmed as she saw all the engravings on it start to glow a deep red, something she’d never seen an Angel’s weapon do before. With a oddly happy chirp of Joy, the Affinity scampered around to Bayonetta’s bare back and placed a disgusting clawed hand on it, seemingly pressing the flesh to check for something.

“Now now… What are you doing back there? T-That’s a place for blasphemy!” Bayonetta yelped as she felt the touch skin of its hand caress her soft back, losing her usual cool and composed tone as she tried desperately to reason with the creature she’d spared only a few seconds before.
Then she felt the hand lift and, being unable to see the Angel raise its weapon over its head as it hopped backwards, she let out a sigh of relief, her arrogant and mocking tone coming back as she assumed the Angel had changed its mind.

“Now there’s a good bo-“ She began before being cut off by a sudden pain down her back, a pain that was quickly followed by the most excruciating feeling she’d ever felt in her entire life as a long slit opened up down her back. However, instead of a sea of red gushing out, followed by her organs and bones before her second death freed her from the pain, a bright and holy light poured of the silt in her back and the pain only got worse.

Bayonetta screamed in pain as several humans wandered past, only their darkened shapes visible to her as they went about their days. If only they knew what was happening less than a meter away from them, perhaps they’d choose to save the normal, albeit tall and controversially dressed, human over the decrepit creature that was attacking her.

But no help came as the Affitiny dropped its staff and grabbed the Witch by her shoulders. Before Bayonetta was even able to direct her pain in a volley of curses and hateful comments at her attacker, it used her locked shoulders to lifts its legs up and slides them into her back, fitting into her own like a glove. Now terrified of what the Angel was doing to her, she began to scream for help; maybe Ronin or Jeanne or even a vaguely helpful demon would hear her cries for help and save her.
None came as the Angel continued, fitting its lower torso into her and removing its hands from her shoulders to slide the three fingered limbs into her own. With every part of its body that entered Bayonetta’s, she lost control over that part and was now without control over anything but her head. With one last scream of fear and defiance, she felt the red skull and wings get pulled into her body before darkness descended for the Umbra Witch as she closed her eyes, ending the witch hunt for good…

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Slowly, ‘her’ eyes flicked open. Instead of the usual soft and sultry grey that was so full of lust and enjoyment, they were glowing with a beautiful and soothing holy light that slowly faded into a rich and creamy mixture of white and gold. ‘Her’ body moved, without any of the grace it had before, dropping the gun to the floor as it straightened out from its aiming pose. Slowly, ‘her’ soft and supple lips opened, ‘her’ tongue sliding out and running along them, leaving a glittering trail behind as ‘her’ hands ran across ‘her’ body, a twisted smile on ‘her’ pretty face.

“I-I am…” ‘She’ finally spoke, ‘her’ voice not quite right with most of the mixture of arousal, amusement, lust and mockery missing, leaving it sounding flat and dead. “Bayonetta…” ‘She’ finished as ‘her’ hands squeezed ‘her’ chest, making ‘her’ close the now golden eyes and bite down on ‘her’ lower lip as ‘she’ felt a rush of power and lust surge through ‘her’ body.
“I am an Umbra Witch…” ‘Bayonetta’ growled as she continued ‘her’ clumsy groping of ‘her’ gorgeous tits, ‘her’ tongue flicking in and out of ‘her’ mouth wildly, like an animals. Soon, one hand left ‘her’ chest and travelled down to ‘her’ crotch, kneading the flat area still covered by a thin layer of the hair that made up ‘her’ clothes.

“I shall make a fine addition to Heaven’s army…” ‘She’ grunted happily as ‘she’ seemed to get used to ‘her’ voice, the liveliness and mockery returning, “Then again… I could just go off on my own…” The former Angel mused, not knowing that even if it’d taken over Bayonetta’s body, she’d always be in the back of its mind; whispering sweet pleasures and selfish desires into its mind, corrupting it little buy little…

Tuesday 26 February 2019

The Green Eyed Teacher


It was a dull February morning. A dark grey sky hung above the small, fenced off and gated car park as a small white Nissan pulled into a space, correcting itself before the small engine chattered to a halt. Ms. Marshalls sighed as she got out of her car and nervously walked towards the school, through the car park. She’d been woken up late by a call for a substitute teaching job at a local High School and it showed; her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight but slightly clumsily put together bun, her blue jeans had one leg rolled up whilst the other hung low to her brown loafers and her yellow turtleneck sweater seemed to be un-ironed.  A pair of rectangular glasses sat high on her nose, covering her eyes in a thin glass pane. She carried a bundle of folders and binders as she trotted hastily towards the large, concrete block of a school that she’d been called to sub at. She passed several other people dressed in similarly conservative attire, all moving at a similar slow trudge and some casting the occasional glance of jealousy at her un-fleeting youth or pity at the knowledge of what she was in for as a sub.

The only one who seemed to show her anything other than pity or hostility was Juliette, a security guard who got out of her black Ford pickup clad in a black windbreaker and baggy combat trousers and boots with a black baseball cap covering most of her red hair that came out the back in a ponytail. She smiled happily at her, recognizing the nervous new arrival from a volunteer’s centre.
“You need any help with those?” Juliette asked as she slowed down from the jog she’d been at to catch up, holding the door open for Ms. Marshalls to enter the corridor from the concrete outside of the school. “You don’t wanna dro-”

Just as the guard began to speak again, Ms. Marshalls did just what she was warning her about as a flurry of notes on Macbeth, Othello and Of Mice and Men went tumbling to the ground before the exasperated teacher, littering the pale yellow lino floor that screamed cheapness. Grey walls with the occasional pin-board covered in motivational posters that only seemed to the opposite of what they intended by reminding the viewer that they could be in so many nicer places rather than under the dull Virginia sky.

“Oh… I erm…” She stammered as she bent over to pick up the fallen binders only to find the guard scooping them up and nodding at her to keep walking.

“It’s cool, I got ‘em.” Juliette nodded with a playful smirk on her face, casting a small glace at the denim clad rump of the sub as she rose up from her bending position.

“I erm… thank you!” She smiled nervously as the pair walked a few more meters to the door marked “ENGLISH 2, CORRIDOR C” and opened the glass-panelled door. The sub entered first and put down the pile she’d been carrying before spinning around and taking the second pile from the guard who then backed up to the doorway and leaned on the frame, arms folded.

“So… What time to do you get off?” The guard asked casually, liking what she saw under all that conservative clothing Marshalls was wearing.

Ms. Marshalls straightened up, a blush on her face as she heard this, nearly dropping the stack of folders as she does. “I-I-I have a-a boyfriend!” She quickly yammered out a lie to deflect the proposed date from the good looking guard.

“Damn shame… Well, if you ever need another woman…” She flicked a piece of paper over to the sub who barely catches it after fumbling for a second or two, “Then call me!” Juliette smirked before strolling away, her boots clicking on the hard, pasty yellow floors as she walked away, leaving Ms. Marshalls to blush in piece as she waited for her class to arrive.

And so the day wore on. The poor Ms. Marshall endured classes upon classes of bored teens who had better places to be and more important things to do in their opinion, leaving them with the attention spans of goldfish. Yet she soldiered on, trying to give life to the lines of the centuries old texts and personalities to the un-relatable protagonists and villains alike that usually seemed to be intent on saying as little as possible with as many words as they could manage. Alas, she failed and spent her whole day tiring herself out as she tried to be nice to the teens as they walked all over her supposed “authority.” By the end of the day, she was slumped in her seat, her hair even more of a mess and her sweater crumpled up around the torso from all the bending over she did to look at her students work or, mainly, lack thereof.

With a slow trudge she moved, only one or two books in her arms this time as she’d just been told by the Head Teacher that she’d be needed to come back tomorrow, to brave the grey-walled and yellow-floored jungle she’d only just managed to leave. She didn’t really look at anything as she walked the now empty corridor, her eyes glazed over the floor, walls and doors as she makes her way on autopilot back to her car. She drove home with a tired look in her eyes.

Turn the wheel.

Change the gear.

Change the gear.

Turn the wheel.

Apply the brakes.

The route seemed to carry on forever. Endless streets of dull grey concrete seemed to drag on in a never-ending hell of urbanized simplicity. Streetlights passed by in short bursts of light, followed by a few seconds of darkness before the light returned and, just like the road, that pattern never seemed to end. The sky above was void of light, the sun had set and the stars were blotted out by light pollution, leaving only a vast inky black dome as far as the eye could see.

Eventually, the perpetual suffering came to an end as the wheels met the gravel of the driveway leading up to the front door of a stereotypical suburban home. The white wooden panel walls, a red slate roof and a small porch with a waist high fence around it. The kind of home that lacks a soul for weeks after you move into it. One that reeks of industry and mass production, designed to fuel a growing population. This population would then become what Ms. Marshalls hated the most; boring, copied and pasted individuals, just like their houses. Maybe that’s what Ms. Marshalls envied about Juliette; she was different. Special.

Ms. Marshalls leaned back in her seat and closed her tired eyes for a second or two, feeling herself start to drift away as she did. “I wish I was more interesting…” She mumbled to herself before she opened her car door and slowly walked up to her front door, key in hand. She was totally unaware of the large creature squatting in the nearby hedgerow that had heard what she’d said and was almost too happy to oblige her wish…

Sitting down in her armchair, she switched on her TV and let the glare wash over her in the darkened room as her eyelids started to feel heavier and heavier, her blinking slowing down a little as it got harder to keep her eyes open from all the tire and stress of the day started to lift from her shoulders. Eventually she retreated to the nocturnal haven and was finally free from the shackles of the day.
Unknowns to the sleeping teacher, a long claw slid through the tiny gap in her kitchen window and started to lift it up, only pausing when the window made a loud creak before starting to move again once the owner of the claw sees that she’d barely even shifted in her chair from the noise. Once the window was fully open, the claw retreats back into the darkness before sliding back through with the rest of a large, bony hand with long and thin fingers, each one ending with a large claw covered in strange engravings. A second hand grips the other side of the frame and starts to pull a tall, thin mass through the window. With surprising elegance, the hunched creature lands on the kitchen floor and start to creep silently towards the sleeping woman, its animalistic face with a pair of big, putrid green eyes contorted into a twisted smile of malice. Slowly, it slides its foul-smelling clawed hand across her body until it’s resting over her heart. The claws then seem to sink into her chest with a small hiss, a bright white light shining from them as they do. After a few seconds, the monster pulls its hand out of the now shaking but still comatose woman’s chest, now clutching a white trail behind a spiritual version of her head. It tosses the soul aside and shoves its clawed hand to her mouth, starting a deranged laugh that finally wakes the now disembodied Ms. Marshalls just in time for her to watch its body dematerialize and flow into her old body as its back arches, mouth open wide. Soon, the possession is done and her body settles back down until its eyes snap back open and the same smile appears on her lips…




Ms. Marshall’s heeled foot swung out of the car in one, swift movement. Attached to it was a long leg that was tightly wrapped in a pair of black leggings suitable for yoga. This black-clad leg continued on as she pulled herself from the car, placing a matching foot down with its twin. Instead of the conservative turtle neck she wore before, her body was covered far less by an olive green V-neck that was pulled over her body and in doing so was showing plenty of curves, especially her breasts. Unlike the prior day, her hair was curled slightly, giving it an elegant wave that bobbed as she turned her bug-eye sunglasses covered eyes to look disapprovingly and purse her slightly purple lips at the school she’d suffered at the day before.

This time unburdened by any heavy books or binders, she powered through the carpark with a sultry mince, swaying her hips as she went. Once again, eyes were locked on her but this time they were filled with lust and envy. The older men’s eyes bored into her curves as they bounced with each step, almost hypnotized by the youthful bouncing of her unbroken and unwrinkled body. The women’s eyes stared with envy as she strutted before them, making them look upon her like a diamond ring they could not afford or a mirror into a far greater past that has long since eluded them but was now back to taunt them and their weary bones one last time. Only one woman actually walked over to talk to the eye-candy they all ogled. The security guard, Juliette.

“Hey, you didn’t call last night I was wo-” Juliette began to speak as she caught up with the woman she thought she knew.

With a single heel turn, ‘Ms. Marshalls’ span around and pulled the black-clad guard into a kiss, holding it for a few seconds before pulling away, leaving behind a faint trace of purple on the stunned guard’s lips.

“Oh hush… You’re far nicer to look at than hear, hon” Ms. Marshalls smirked slightly as she pushed her sunglasses down her nose to look the guard in the eyes briefly, shocking them further before she pulled them back up and spun around once more to walk away, leaving only the clack of her heels behind as she turned a corner and vanished from sight.

With a bored expression on her face, Ms. Marshalls strode down the corridor with purpose and poise that screamed confidence and self-importance. She arrived at her classroom and put down her purse and sunglasses before leaving once again. The day began and students started to filter into the school for registration before leaving to their first period. The same Grade 11 students she’d had last period the day before filtered into the class and looked around for their teacher, one or two joking about being legally allowed to leave if she doesn’t show in fifteen minutes, earning a few pity chuckles.
The Class, at first in anarchy, eventually settled down and about fifteen minutes after the lesson began, Ms. Marshalls strolled into the room with a hot cup of coffee in one hand and a vogue magazine in the other. She slumped down into a chair at the back of the classroom and shoved a large film role into a projector, not caring for the welfare of either. A film adaptation of Macbeth began to play about half way through and all the eyes in the room started to glaze over. Only one student looked back at the teacher, a little suspicious as to her sudden change in attitude and apparel. Ms. Marshalls saw this and looked over at them with a smirk as she licked her lips like a wolf looking at its prey. Her eyes glowed a deep and putrid green, the color of algae, making the curious student’s own eyes widen as their head quickly twisted back around to face the flickering image on the screen before him, a hot blush spreading over his face.
The new Ms. Marshalls was here to stay…

Saturday 12 January 2019

The Archer's Corruption


Natya couldn’t believe she’d done it. The red headed wood elf watched as the hulking mass of armour and rotten flesh formerly known as the Undead Warlock King fell to the ground dead. His sword, that he’d plunged into the soft earth of the overgrown arena, stayed upright. It’s blade sharp and cruel, with painful barbs making up a serrated edge of the heavy sword.

The elf took a few steps forward, an arrow still ready to fire. She’d seen too many fake-outs to lower her guard just yet. She could’ve sworn she saw some kind of magic rush down his sword arm as he’d fallen. After a few more minutes of watching the totally motionless body, she finally started to trust that the vial tyrant was finally slain. She’d avenged her sister’s killer at long last.

It had taken nearly ten years. Ten years of preparation, tracking and training. Ten years since he descended upon the peaceful forest village of Tariella with his horde of undead. They’d butchered what guards could rally themselves, gathered the civilians up together and then burnt the forest down, watching as they tried to flee only to be met by bolts from waiting crossbows.

Natya was lucky enough to be out hunting at the time and was spared the horror of what would become known across the lands, from the Great Western Ocean to the Corriban Mountains, as the Massacre of the Burned Hills.

Now Natya, once a young and defenceless archer in training, had now grown. Now she was a beautiful young woman who was a gifted and famous Bowmaster. Who was renowned for being a part of the Order of Tyrellia and the Master of Archery of the College of Boreas. But all of that seemed meaningless compared to her main goal: to slay the one who ruined her life. She’d rejected many offers from her party to come with her, only allowing them as far as the gates of the Undead Warlock King’s domain before insisting they leave her to either be triumphant or die trying.

As she looked down at the dead King, she thought of her family and wondered if they’d be proud of her. Her father had always told her to never seek revenge and to believe in forgiveness, but if no-one rose up to challenge the despot then how would they be stopped?

The she felt something.

A gnawing on her mind.

A calling.

She turned to look at the blade, the memory of it nearly cleaving her in two still fresh. She could feel it, just like she could feel the trees and the plants and the earth. It felt sad. Not sad for its prior owner demise but sad that it was no longer being wielded. It was asking to be taken.
Even though Natya was an archer by class she knew Josia the Golden, the Paladin of the party, would be outraged at her if she failed to secure such a powerful and dangerous magical artefact. She put her bow on her back, the weight of it leaving her hands made her a little nervous but she powered through. With both hands, she grabbed the bloodstained leather grip of the twisted ebony blade and pulled.

It slid out of the soft earth with ease, its low weight shocking her. It had barely strained her to draw it even though she lacked much muscle in her arms. The blade was about seven feet in length; its thick blade was double edged with vicious barbs on one and a devilishly sharp edge on the other. Along the flat blade, on the barbed side of the fuller, it had an inscription that seemed to be in some ancient language, unknown to the new wielder.

Then she felt it. A sudden rush of evil down her right arm. She looked at the soft, tanned flesh and saw it growing paler and paler until it was a ghostly white. As it did this, the corruption spread through her arm and into the rest of her body. All the vitality and life in her small frame was being sucked dry, poured into the blade as it hungered for it all and more.

“N-no… Please… D-don’t…” Natya fell to her knees as tears poured from her wide, scared green eyes as they rolled back in her head. After a few more seconds of hoarse attempts to cry out to someone who wasn’t there for help, she fell to the dirt, her heart no longer beating.

Unlike the Undead Warlock King, she kept a hold of the sword and brought it down with her. Then the sword started to return something to her in exchange for her life. Her veins turned black, the muck that replaced her blood starting to move through her body, not by her heart but by the sword itself. Slowly, she rose from the ground, her movements were sharp and unnatural, with muscles moving in short, sharp jerks and not the long and smooth movements an elf was prone to.

Her eyes, still wide and wild with the fear of her dying breath seemed glassy and lifeless. No vitality returned to them, instead the muscles simply started to move, rolling her eyes back and revealing that the vibrant green was now trapped behind a thin pane of translucent white, not focusing on anything.
The body of Natya, now upright in a loose and weak stand, was consumed in a flurry of black particles from the corpse of the fallen Warlock King as his armour migrated to her body. First came a heavy set of black greaves, with silver inlays on ancient carvings on them, next was the chest-plate in a matching design and soon her whole body accept the head was covered in a smaller, lighter version of the very same armour of her sworn enemy. She sheathed the sword that now used her body like a meat puppet, just like it had used the orc warrior who’d been the previous host, to reach down and pluck the helmet from the ground, sliding it down over her blonde head as it changed to fit the smaller, elfish head of its new owner.

The new Undead Warlock Queen then strode forward and back into her castle before marching to the balcony and drawing her sword once more. As she did, it seemed to crack and change, turning into a twisted yet expertly made ebony bow, only the incantations on the side of it showing it was the same weapon.

Natya had slaughtered her entire army on her way through the corrupted lands and that setback had to be rightened. Raising the blade over hear head with no effort at all, she let loose a haunting screech that echoed across her lands and to Natya’s former party who quickly rallied, with heavy hearts knowing their friend had fallen, and marched into the lands of the tyrant. None would return. They’d expected a battle with a heavy and brutish fighter, but were met by a fast, stealthy archer who killed them off one by one as they travelled only to disappear when they attempted to pursue. Only Josia the Golden made it to the bastion of evil known as the Undead Palace to face the new Queen head-on. He was slaughtered in seconds. The last words he heard were in his friend’s voice, filling him with fear as he finally knew what had happened to his friend and leader…

“The King is dead, long live the Queen…”

Monday 7 January 2019

The Future of Hana's TG Captions

To whom it may concern, 

I'm sorry for the lack of captions recently but I've been in a bad spot. I've been feeling drained and uninspired to write captions. However, I have been starting to write longer stories that seem to actually stimulate my creativity. I won't be making captions for a while yet simply because I can't deliver the quality I want to produce. You can see these over on my deviantart and once again, I am sorry.

Thank you for your time,

Hana