#helga unbound

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 619: Helga Ritter Part 5

Retreating from the top deck, Helga Ritter rushes towards her laboratory, to secure the DNA samples of the cloned Merek twins. Her entire project has been compromised by the arrival of aggressive biological weapons, bearing resemblance to the original weapon, Xan Medani. (Unbound Boxes will return on Wednesday 6th December, as the writer has broken. Please catch up on back stories here. Thank you…

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#Alexand Merek #art #Clones #feminist fiction #graphic story #Helga Ritter #science fiction #scientist #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #The Floating Asylum #The haernyarn #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Xan Medani

[m0nyartz]

Some Hey Arnold Commissions I’ve done for the lovely @polkahotness ! Check out their story “Helga Unbound” (*˘︶˘*)

#hey arnold #commission #commissions #i'm still excited to see the tattoo btw if that's still gonna be a thing hehe

[polkahotness]

CALLING ALL HEY ARNOLD FANS!!!!

CLICK HERE TO VIEW THE LISTING

Recently, I have fallen onto some hard times. As a result, I've made the hard decision to sell off a good portion of my hey arnold collection.

In this bundle, you will find:

-8 Arnold plushies of all sizes

-2 Helga plushies, different sizes. Larger one had a hole that I patched up (SEE PICTURE)

Abner plushie

Gerald mini chibi plushie

Seasons 1-4 on DVD

Stoop kid large nickbox exclusive vinyl

2 mini figures of Gerald and Harold with included stickers

2 books (one vintage, the other newer)

BOTH Helga and Arnold POP! Figurines ootb

This bundle will all be put inside this collectors Comicon collectable '90s are all that' giant tote that reads on the back, "STOOP KIDS AFRAID TO LEAVE HIS STOOP"

CLICK HERE TO VIEW THE LISTING

#hey arnold #fanfiction #fanfic #arnold #helga #helga pataki #hey arnold the jungle movie #shortaki #tjm #helga unbound #90s nickelodeon #nickelodeon #nicktoons #vintage

[lauwrite1225]

Love Bites - Finan x Ingrith

Summary: Finan is going to spend some days away in Aegelesburg and Ingrith cannot let her husband leave like this.

Warning: smutty (foreplay, hickey) and fluff

tags: @ulfrsmal @emilyhufflepufftlk @morosemagick @saint-helga @solinarimoon @magravenwrites

Finan smiled at the sunlight sneaking through the curtains to warm his cheeks, but he smiled even more at the heat that spread under Ingrith’s lips wherever she kissed him. His eyes were still closed, his warrior’s senses remained dormant. All he could focus on was the gentle care of his wife, her hand sliding down his stomach and her kisses coming closer to his collarbone. Her golden hair was unbound after their previous night of passion and tickled his nose, but instead of grimacing he nuzzled her hair and breathed in her familiar scent - he knew he was going to miss it. 

Her lips lingered on his neck as one of his hands ran leisurely up and down her bare back, until Ingrith softly nipped that spot between his beard and collarbone. Finan growled and slid his palm to the curve of her ass and squeezed her flesh in retaliation. Her chuckle vibrated against his skin and she tickled his ribs to distract him while she sucked at the sensible spot she had found. The hiss the slight pain elicited from him melted into another grunt when she kissed tenderly the offended skin. 

Ingrith propped herself to smile at him but her eyes remained on his neck. Finan lifted his hand and brushed the still warm and wet spot with his fingers. He growled again when he realized he’d most likely have a mark for the next few days. He looked up at her and this time her blue eyes were waiting to meet his dark ones. 

“What’s that for?” He asked with a tilt of his head that exposed the mark even more. 

His wife didn’t answer immediately and straddled his waist to sit on her heels above him. Finan wasn’t sure if he should curse or bless the sight before him. Her pale skin was shining under the morning light and the shadows casted by her perfect curves only enhanced them, making it hard for the Irishman to keep his hands for himself. Her hair was cascading down her chest and Finan had half the mind to raise his hands to uncover her breasts. She trailed her fingers down his chest until she met his hands and placed them on her thighs, a mischievous and proud smirk lightning her face. 

“So the ladies in Aegelesburg know you are already taken.”  She explained almost merily. 

Finan laughed and propped himself on his elbows, obligating her to crawl back and let her bottom press against his already half-hard cock. “Do ya think I’m that charmin’?” 

She hummed and stared up at the ceiling, pretending to be deep in her thoughts. “Well, to succeed to marry me you certainly needed a lot of charm to make up for the rest.”

The Irishman let out an offended gasp and dropped back on the mattress, his arms spread open as if he had just been hit by a shield. She laughed at him and moved to lay on her side next to him, her head pillowed on his arm. He felt her breath tickle his chest and her fingertips dancing across his abs teasingly but he didn’t stare her way. Then, suddenly, an idea made him grin widely and he immediately moved into action. Ingrith gasped as he rolled them over, trapping her body under his stronger one, his hands planted at each side of her head. The surprise had made her take a deeper breath, the sight of her chest heaving and falling captivated him until he noticed her Mjölnir had disappeared from its usual place. He found it lost in her hair spread around her and reverently laid the silver hammer back between her breasts. She shivered when his fingertips lingered there, drawing intricate shapes on her skin. 

“Then, it is only fair that I return the attention, I think.” Finan said as he leaned to brush his lips to hers.

She lifted her head to kiss him but he moved back with a teasing smirk. He lowered his face to kiss her chest, his beard burning her soft skin and making her sigh pleasantly. 

“The men of Rumcofa already know I’m married to you.” She whispered. 

Finan couldn’t help but smile in her neck as he carried on worshiping that beautiful woman he had the luck to marry. A priest would probably chastise him for having married a heathen, for succumbing to the devil’s temptation, but Finan was most grateful to the devil in that moment. 

He hummed against her skin only to tell her he had heard her but it wouldn’t prevent him to leave a mark on her neck. He sucked the skin just below her ear, relishing the way she mewled into his ear. He couldn’t resist moving one of his hands to her breast and rolling her nipple between his thumb and index to make her moan. Her fingers ran through his hair as he gently kissed the offended spot just like she did before he pushed himself up to meet her lips. 

“Now they cannot forget.” He grinned down at her, Ingrith laughing and nudging his shoulder playfully.

#the last kingdom #finan #finan the agile #tlk #tlk season 5 #ingrith #fingrith #finan x ingrith

[deathberryhime]

'your words on my skin'

first time in forever since I write something and post it and it's angst. I think it says a lot about my character.

::: :::

There were reasons Hiccup hated Soulmates.

It started with his mother; selfless and selfish at the same time, choosing to abandon her husband and newborn to go help the wildlife. His father scrambling to take care of them both while supporting his wife’s reckless lifestyle. Eventually, it costed her life. His dad would take to run his thumb over his soulmark more than once; the devastated look on his face would be forever in Hiccup's mind.

It continued with Gobber; his godfather, unlucky in everything in his life and hoped for a stroke of better luck in his love life. The discrimination as both an amputee and a homosexual cost him his job and almost turned him suicidal. Hiccup had been nine when he found him in his bathroom bloodied and almost gone.

His aunt was not far behind; ending up pregnant at seventeen and marrying a man she thought she loved, only to get beaten half to death. Law forbade divorce between Soulmates, even with the abuse and the forced abortions. It didn’t get any better even after his cousin was born. Hiccup would always remember Aunt Helga’s limp and Snotlout’s black eye when he was seven years old.

Mildew was a surprising feature as well; their old neighbor had turned bitter and cold when his third wife, third soulmark, had died during labor to a stillborn. Just like the other two. A loner, vicious grump with only farm animals for company, that withstood the teasing and hazing of every teenager that had nothing better to do.

Throughout his life, Soulmates had been seen as a bother. Pain, hurt, and disappointment followed closely behind. Hiccup had seen what it did to people, what turned them into, and how deep it cut. He didn’t want to be like that, ever.

And then he met Astrid.

Astrid, with her bright eyes, cocky smile, strong character, and bossy attitude. Astrid, with her soft smiles, hearty laugh, supportive words, and strong hugs. Astrid, with her sweet tooth, competitiveness, and caffeine addiction.

Astrid, with her long blond hair bloodied, and lying on the road with her cracked phone in hand.

They hadn’t known each other long. A couple of months maybe since she called him an idiot for ruining her shirt with coffee and him apologizing for his one-and-a-half left feet, and them both recognizing the sentences that bonded them together. Yet, even with the promise of slow and steady, she was the only person he’d say ‘I love you’ outside of his family.

It had hit him while he was taking a shower and had rushed out with suds still in his hair.

Something had bubbled in his throat and threatened to burst from his mouth. His dad had grinned and touched forlorn his Soulmark.

And for once in his life, Hiccup hadn’t mind.

Until now.

Sirens blared in his ears and the crowd seemed to buzz around him. People were asking if he was okay, was he hurt, and all Hiccup could see was Astrid’s hair, unbound and bloodied a few steps away. He remembered her grinning when she saw him from the other side of the road, pure love leaking from her eyes, and Hiccup had felt complete. First time in forever and he wanted that feeling to root in his heart and never leave. Then her eyes turned horrified and had leaped forward, pushing him away.

The crack of her head against the ground would be engraved forever in his mind.

He lost her after that. The ambulance had arrived and had carted her off to the hospital, and he remained still there. Eventually, someone dragged him up and to a car, and it wasn’t a few minutes later that he was sitting at the hospital waiting area.

It would take a while for his mind to registered his good Samaritan had been Snotlout.

There, on the uncomfortable chairs of the hospital, Hiccup stared at his soulmark. The band of words that started at his ring finger and curled around his wrist. They’d turned pasty grey as more minutes passed. There was still no doctor on sight.

A meaty hand covered his and Hiccup turned to see his dad right by his side. I called her parents, he said, they’re in Norway and there’s a storm but they’ll board the next available flight.

Hiccup didn’t register anything after that. People came and went, words of comfort echoed in his ears, but he didn’t care. The doctor hadn’t come still. That was good, his mind settled. That meant he was working on Astrid, fixing her, mending what’s broken, and he will only come out when he’s done fixing her.

Hiccup violently shoved down the part of his brain that whispered the opposite. He didn’t want that to happen. Life had been kicking him down since the day he was born. Astrid was the only salving part in it. Life owed him this much.

So, he took a breath and turned empty eyes to the doors.

Hours later, they hissed open. The doctor stepped outside with a grim face.

Hiccup slowly stood up and braced for the news that would definitely change his world forever.

#open ending #you can think w/e you want #hiccstrid #hiccstrid soulmate #soulmate au #httyd #httyd modern au #httyd soulmate au #tw: abuse #tw: abuse of a minor #tw: suicide #tw: abortion #tw: homophobia #your words on my skin #ywoms #short fic #oneshot

[kneamet]

The Reader has three children with Thomas Sharpe. Lucille is dead. The eldest daughter sings beautifully, the middle son plays the piano great, and the youngest son is an aspiring master of painting. Children do not understand the tension between parents. The reader eventually decides to take the kids and run away, but Thomas read her diary and expected her to run away, so he drugged his wife and locked her in the bedroom and told the kids that mom was sick.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere.

Word Count: 2189

Character: Thomas Sharpe/reader

Summary: You have three children with your husband, Thomas Sharpe, whom you fear and hate.

"Again! the woman shouted. It was simple. Her face was very frowning because of the task she had not completed, and her lips were tight with anger. Her hair is tied in a small bun. Her clothes were of cotton material, obviously worn and custom-made by the postmaster's wife. She shook out her apron, which was dirty from cooking for the Sharpe family, and lifted her thin, sharp nose in a haughty way that didn't match her appearance. Her birth name was Isabella Smithson.

She took a quick, steady step, lifting the hem of her dress slightly so that it would helplessly pick up dirt from the floor of the house. Mrs. Smithson walked over to a glossy and large piano where a boy, about 12 years old, was sitting.

His hair was black and slightly curled at the ends, so that when he nodded his head, the curls bounced very strangely after his movements. His eyes were blue, but no, they were more turquoise, like the color of the sea during its quiet calm. He was not dressed formally. He was wearing a plain white shirt that was slightly rolled up at the sleeves, and suspenders that held back black pants that were clearly not the right size for him. The parents named the second child Michael, similar to God. The boy was just like his father.

He raised his bright, innocent eyes, shining in the bright light of the sun. He removed his slender fingers from the glossy keys of the musical instrument that he had inherited from his late aunt Lucille.

"Did I do something wrong, Mrs. Smithson?- the boy asked, raising his index finger to his thin lips and tapping it lightly, like a prankster coming up with an unusual prank for his parents.

The woman rolled her brown eyes. Her mouth, which had a wrong taste and a terrible smell inside, was about to correct Michael for his mistake. However, she was distracted by another matter. Singing.

It came from the corridor. A melodious, soothing, soft voice. This was only for girls. Indeed, the owner of this divine voice, which the mother compared to Opera divas, belonged to a girl, or rather a girl.

Helga. This was the name of the future Opera diva. She was standing in the snow that was falling from the broken roof. Dressed in a simple white nightgown, barefoot and with her long dark hair unbound, she raised her innocent eyes to the old roof, continuing to sing the voluptuous lullaby that she and her younger brothers used to sing when they couldn't sleep for fear of the Crimson Peak.

Starting to sway slightly to the rhythm of the melody, she did not even notice that almost next to her, to the side, sits a boy, watching her skill and trying to recreate the atmosphere on the canvas.

Glancing at his older sister, he ruefully touched the canvas with a brush that his parents had ordered from the master and cost them a very large sum, which already had a small sketch on it.

The boy called Damon was definitely not like his brother and sister, who made music. He was a creative soul and expressed all his impulses on canvas. No wonder he was his mother's favorite.

The brown-green eyes looked up from the Swan-dancing sister and returned to the black-and-white sketch.

"This is-this is unbelievable," a voice whispered behind the boy, and his blond head turned in your direction. He smiled a toothy smile and putting the brush on the dirty, from many stages of drawing, palette, Damon ran to you, his mother.

He was small, and the top of his head came up to your chest, but that didn't stop him from taking you in his arms. You hugged him back, your feelings filled with a sea of emotions.

However, the quiet calm was interrupted by the loud voice of Mrs. Smithson. You smiled a little, which you did very rarely in your husband's house, and put your arm around the shoulders of an aspiring artist and led him to the main hall to the shy Michael and the incredibly harsh Isabella.

The boy sat almost crying from the accumulated emotions, but despite this, he continued to play Mozart. I think, you thought, it was a Turkish March.

"Wrong!"the old woman exclaimed and went back to your son without even noticing you. You chuckled.

"Calm down, Mrs. Smithson," you said in a calm voice, still holding your youngest son in your arms and watching the amazing pianist. "Give the boy a break," you advised, standing next to your son and stroking his head, lightly tugging at his black curls. He lifted his head to you and sent you a smile.

For a while, the room full of people was silent. There was only soft singing coming from the corridor and the sound of breathing.

Everyone thought about their own things. Each person's thoughts were different from the previous one.

"Daddy!" Helga's voice came from the corridor, and everyone in the main hall, as if roused from their stupor and deep thoughts, looked down the corridor. Damon pulled out of your arms and ran to his father, who now opened his arms in greeting.

Taking a deep breath and swallowing, you turned and walked towards your husband with a fake smile.

Your husband, Thomas Sharpe, was a handsome Englishman. His face was pretty, and he kept it clean-shaven, and not a single hair could be seen on it. His hair was black and very curly. You used to love playing with them. Now he was taking off his outer clothing and it was clear that it was new and the man was clearly following the fashion. And it was the same corduroy suit you gave him for his wedding anniversary, made especially by your mother.

All three children took him in their arms and he couldn't stand the joy of not hugging them back. Moving slightly away from the children, he sat down on the dirty floor, clearly not caring about his pants, and opened the old, large suitcase with which he had traveled the world.

Looking at the children with a mocking look, he realized that they were in complete impatience. Chuckling, he took out three small, but probably roomy, boxes.

"I hope you behaved well and listened to your mother while I was away," he said, squatting down. "Helga, honey, this is for you," the girl eagerly began to unpack the gift. Her brothers, as if trying to see, lifted their heads and looked over her shoulder. The box fell. The girl squealed with joy. Inside was a blue dress decorated with small lace at the bottom, with fitted sides and short sleeves. Still ecstatic, she ran upstairs to her room.

Thomas handed the second gift to Michael. The latter, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, began to unpack it quickly. His eyes opened in genuine surprise when he saw a collection of music by Bach, Beethoven and Vivaldi. Clearly delighted, he ran to the piano, and Mrs. Smithson rolled her eyes and touched her bun, Curling her lips in a contemptuous smile. Straightening her dress, she followed him at a measured pace.

Damon was standing alone. His father gave him a big smile and looked down, holding the largest box in his hands.

"Here," the boy nodded calmly, but there was joy in his eyes, and without even unpacking, he ran to his sister's room.

The blue eyes looked up from seeing the children's joy and looked at you seriously. They ordered him to be silent and just obey his orders.

You just stood there and watched the children enjoy themselves. You smiled warmly at each of them, then lowered your eyes again.

You heard the old floorboards creaking. Your husband was coming to you. You flinched when he grabbed your shoulder and leaned down slightly, his hot air and impatient breath blowing over you.

"Let's go to the room," he whispered in your ear, lightly licking it. He almost groaned. It tasted so good. "We have something to discuss."

***

The door to the room slammed shut. Your smooth back is covered with goose bumps. The pupils of his eyes widened slightly. His breathing became ragged. My heart began to beat faster than before. My hands were shaking. A tear ran down her cheek. A drop of sweat ran down his forehead. An unpleasant feeling crept into my chest.

You were standing in the middle of the room, barely moving. Too risky. One wrong move and something will happen. Your eyes were down again.

When you heard Thomas lock the door, which obviously didn't Bode well, you looked down at your hands, biting your lip slightly. It's too dangerous to look at your husband now.

After a moment of silence, a quick breath on your part, and a calm and steady one on Thomas's, he seemed to remember something, and walked briskly to his Desk. On it were scattered various papers on the construction of this or that apparatus, various calculations. There was a notebook right in the middle. It was very shabby, but it had fallen on hard times, and you knew what it was. This is... your diary.

Cold sweat broke out on your forehead. It's like you're paralyzed. You felt like you were doomed. You knew with all your heart that this was the end.

"Dear diary," Thomas began, in a languid but no less stern voice, to read. You noticed his hands. They were clutching the notebook very tightly, as if they wanted to vent their raging anger on someone. "I know it's probably too early to do this, but it's better now than never. Today or tomorrow I will definitely run away with Michael, Helga, and Damon from my husband." He suddenly slammed the diary down and threw it on the carpet that had been there for decades, kicking up dust, right at your feet, right on your boots. "What is it, dear?" he asked, retreating to the middle of the room.

But a single tear rolled down your cold cheek. Her lips trembled. Your eyes were fixed on the notebook. His hands clenched into fists.

"You know, I always thought that girls should be neat, beautiful," he ran his cold hand down your cheek, wiping away a tear. You dared to lift your head and look into his eyes. Bottomless, like an ocean, plunging into which it will be too late to escape. It's a pity, because your parents warned you to be careful what you want. You loved your parents, but when you thought of your father's threatening words or your mother's piercing eyes about Thomas, you always shivered. "And most importantly, be obedient to your husband. And what I see yesterday when I come back, " he ran his hand through your smooth hair. "That you're trying to escape!"

"I wouldn't have tried to run away if I was normal and send me a message!" unexpectedly, even for yourself, you plucked up the courage, shouting loudly at your husband and tried to free yourself from his skinny, but very strong hands, which you failed to do. He glared at you and grabbed your arm.

You and Thomas stared into each other's eyes. And if yours expressed defiance, resistance, and a desire for freedom, but there was also fear in them, then your husband had only obsession and steel. That's what his eyes were like when you first met.

But suddenly his firm grip loosened. He let go of your hand and looked indifferently at the red mark left by him. He stared at nothing for a while, then suddenly turned pale and shook his head. He went back to his Desk. You were looking at him with a gentle eye. What's happening?

He was standing with his back to you, slightly hunched over. His white shirt stretched to fit his large back.

"Tili Tili Bom," came a voice from Sharpe's side. Your eye twitched, and your back crawled again. Lullaby. He sang this lullaby that Lucille sang to him when he couldn't sleep, every time he was angry. "Do you hear birds in the night?"" he turned to face you, his back straight and holding something in his hands. "He's already made his way into the house," abruptly grabbing your shoulder with his free hand, he pulled back the sleeve and lunged, inserting the needle directly into your neck, which was now fully presented to him.

***

POV Thomas

Now you were completely at his mercy. Thomas looked at you with loving eyes, gently tightening the rope on your hands. It wasn't hard, but it was old and very rough. Brushing his hands off, he touched your cold cheek with his right hand, starting to stroke it with the movements he made.

"You know I love you,"he said without stopping. When he touched your lip, he pulled it back slightly, groaning and closing his eyes.

All Thomas will tell the children is that their mother is ill.

They don't need to know about this.

#thomas sharpe #thomas sharpe smut #thomas sharpe x reader #yandere thomas sharpe #crimson peak #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston gif #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #yandere #yandere loki #yandere Tom Hiddleston #obsession #obsessive #obsessive tom hiddleston #obsessive loki #obsession thomas sharpe #loki x reader #loki #yandere tom hiddleston

[melfidraws]

Oh wow WHAT'S THIS? A worth reading fanfic? MY THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE! Well folks, it can be possible. READ HELGA UNBOUND by @polkahotness

#hey arnold #arnold shortman #helga pataki #shortaki #fanfic #melarts #polkahotness

[hxlgapataki]

wow, i recall enjoying polkahotness' fanfics a while back, a handful of years back.

i just recently got back into hey arnold & thus back into reading fanfiction

and wow "helga unbound" has me like WOW.

her writing was already absolutely fantastic years ago & wow its just gotten better. the emotions are so high, bruh i feel like reliving middle school WITH HELGA. this story SLAPS. that break up bruh, im in TEARS.

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 636: Filius Anderson Part 8

Lord Anderson has planted bugs all over Floating Asylum Ship One, and listens in complete resignation, from the safety of his castle in Moscow, as Helga’s ship is being taken over by the enemy. Filius Anderson, Russia (3992)

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#Alexand Merek #art #dictatorship #feminist fiction #Filius Anderson #graphic story #Helga Ritter #Heyem Merek #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #World Liberty Day

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 635: Inside the Floating Asylum Part 2

Future Alexand, tormented by memories of her torture in a different life, battles her way towards the Guard Tower, alongside three versions of her grandfather, Xan Medani, to emancipate the captive inmates onboard Floating Asylum Ship One. (For Nana.) Future Alexand, set onboard Floating Asylum Ship One, Mexico (3992)

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#Alexand Merek #Anastasia Merevija #art #Childhood #cruelty #Edith MehXian #feminist fiction #Filius Anderson #future #graphic story #haunting #Helga Ritter #Heyem Merek #Ichitumbu Jalhavi #memories #recovery #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #The Prison of Souls #trauma #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Xan Medani #Zero Merevija

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 631: Edith MehXian Part 3

After being knocked to the deck, by a rabid haernyarn, Edith MehXian struggles to fight for her humanity. Edith MehXian set onboard Floating Asylum Ship One, Mexico (3992)

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#art #Asenath Bomani #Edith MehXian #fantasy #feminist fiction #graphic story #Helga Ritter #horror #illustrated story #Omorose Merek-Balsara #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Floating Asylum #The haernyarn #The Kyo-Ashita #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Xan Medani

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 627: On the Edge

As a furious Alexand stormed down into the lower decks, she is confronted by another warrior, a woman dressed in full battle gear. Future Alexand’s back story, set onboard Floating Asylum Ship One, Mexico (3992)

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#Alexand Merek #art #broken #Clones #fantasy #feminist fiction #graphic story #Helga Ritter #illustrated story #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #The Floating Asylum #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Xan Medani

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 626: Laboratory

After being apprehended by Haernyarn, clad in death proof armour, Xan, Xan and Xan are frog marched, at the command of Helga Ritter, into a gruesome laboratory, filled with horrors. Helga Ritter is unaware of the chromosome switch, and that she has captured three versions of the same person. Xan’s back story, set onboard Floating Asylum Ship One, Mexico (3992)

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#art #Edith MehXian #feminist fiction #graphic story #Helga Ritter #illustrated story #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The haernyarn #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Warrior #Xan Medani

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 606: A Message of Monsters

Helga Ritter retreated from Gianti Dincrind’s laboratory, furiously intent on combatting the Amanojuko enemy. Unable to control this trigger, she feels sudden rage, something an Amanojuko Lady rarely experiences. She knows exactly how to cauterise this pain. (For new readers, please note, Helga Ritter’s views do not reflect my own. When fighting monsters, it is essential to understand the mind of…

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#Aicha Merek-De Somme #art #feminist fiction #graphic story #Helga Ritter #illustrated story #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #The Floating Asylum #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #Xan Medani

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 599: The Haernyarn

Gianti Dincrind has co developed a more resistant strain of the haernyarn virus, to administer into subjects onboard Asylum Ship One. She has been ordered to test these newly turned haernyarn on the biological weapons technology inside the cloned bodies of the Merek twins. (The Coast of Laguna, Mexico, 3992) Gianti Dincrind’s back story, set onboard the Floating Asylum, The Gulf of Mexico (3992)

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#Alexand Merek #biological weapons #Clones #feminist fiction #Gianti Dincrind #graphic story #Helga Ritter #Heyem Merek #Identical twins #illustrated story #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #The Floating Asylum #The haernyarn #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods

[unboundboxes]

Unbound Boxes Limping Gods: Disconnected Stories: Issue # 590: Filius Anderson Part 7

Each month, Filius Anderson walks along his wall, with a chosen sleeper agent. He has picked Ye-shin, the agent who attempted to capture Heyem Merek, and failed abysmally. Filius Anderson’s back story, set in Russia, (3992)

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#Alexand Merek #antagonist #art #feminist fiction #Filius Anderson #Haernyarn #Helga Ritter #Heyem Merek #illustrated story #Russia #science fiction #short story #speculative fiction #The Amanojuko #Unbound Boxes Limping Gods #war #Ye-shin