#madame-helen
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[Image description:
First image: What appears to be a TSA screening. A white screen contains blue text that reads "Are you a terrorist?" Beneath the text are two buttons that read "Yes" and "No." A hand overs over "No."
Second image: The decision button meme. One button is labeled "Make it on time to the flight." The other is labeled "See what happens if you press 'yes.'" A white gloved hand hovers between the two buttons.
Third image: Tags from tumblr user crappylineofbestfit. They read: "#my dad did this!! #turns out they do NOT let you get on the plane :)"
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None of them are equivalent to eachother but you get the point
#i love asshole characters#i love them EVEN MORE when they’re women#i support womens rights and womens wrongs#and they're all diferent kinds of assholes too#some of them are just bad bitches (kinda mean) and others are bad bitches (straight up murdered someone)#realistic flawed and incredibly entretaining#eleanor shellstrop#the good place#johanna constantine#the sandman#crazy jane#madame rouge#laura de mille#doom patrol#reagan ridley#inside job#crystal palace#dead boy detectives#i shouldve put esther too#i love her#Helen Sharp#madeline ashton#death becomes her#my stuff
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#kamala harris#hurricane victims#hurricane helene#fema#madam president#federal#state#local#vote blue#kamala 2024#democrats#kamala harris for president#vote kamala#2024 presidential election#kamala for president#black lives matter#blacklivesmatter#north carolina#natural disasters#republicans#donald trump
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waning moon
helen park x madam shell
summary: helen park sees the cracks in her lover's façade. (inspired by @mickstart and their amazing post on perhaps the most underrated ship of all time??) read on ao3
tags/cw: nsfw, wlw, angst, pre-cw, betrayal (but vaguely unspecified), light choking, younger woman/older woman, age gap, references to coercion, vague references to abuse of authority, so much bird imagery, doomed sapphics wc: 1.1k
a/n: i literally read @mickstart's park x shell (shellen???) post and got possessed, blacked out for an hour and wrote this. i have 0 memory of how i got here or what this means and though it isn't like 100% what the post was talking about it DID inspire me to spill out this ramble ab a character who has 0 canon appearances outside of dialogue. sorry for pretentious purple prose and rough editing!! it's 12am forgive me
She doesn’t know when she sees the change, but it slips in slow and sweet, like a paling knife glinting in the moonlight. How sand sifts to the bottom of an hourglass, she too feels just as suffocated under the weight of borrowed time.
Yet Shell’s eyes are paler still even in the dark, the waning moon of this interminable night, one that feels to Helen Park like the bookend of something. An answer, unspoken, but as implicit as though it had been there all along, a truth she’d known deep down but refused to acknowledge. And why would she? How could she? It had been three long years since Shell took her under her wing, her pretty little bird, three years that had changed everything. Irreparably. Even now as Park finds the pieces of it all scattered and frayed with Shell’s silent betrayal, she sees the beauty in each and every one, too besotted with the finer details to bear looking at the bigger picture.
Shell is lying.
She knows, more certain than she has ever been of anything in her life. As the older woman climbs languid atop her narrow hips, smothered in perfume bergamot and liquorice, plum coloured lips close over her own in a lazy mimicry of a kiss. Helen parts open her mouth, as she had her legs countless times, like a good little protégé, showing her madam just what she’s learned. All for her. Tongue hot as she kisses back with hooded, half-open eyes, curling around Shell’s like a proclamation. I know what you are. I know what you’re doing.
(And do you know, how powerless I am to stop you? As if I’d even try?)
And Shell knows it too. In the dark of this Parisian hotel room, blinds drawn to cast away the world’s prying eyes, she can see it on the girl’s face plain as day. Sweet Helen is a pretty thing, much too clever for her own good, but wears her heart on her sleeve, with eyes as big and shiny as a doe’s- and now hunting season had come for her sweet girl, and how wide they had looked at Shell upon her return, hands smothered in blood. Blood that she hadn’t bothered to scrub, knowing Helen had likely smelled it coppery on the air when she’d walked in. Her fingers are still tinged pink with it, even as she traipses them up the girl’s waist, cupping the plush undersides of her breasts.
That is to say, Helen isn’t the best at hiding her expressions. It’s what Shell had loved about her. The shrill gasps when Shell would come up behind her, grasping her waist in lieu of a polite excuse me; the way she’d avert her eyes shyly when she’d caught hers across a room, crowded, empty; how she’d been so young when Shell had met her, blushing like a schoolgirl at the mere whisper of praise; and how when Shell had asked her but a month later if she’d ever been touched before- properly, darling girl, like a lover might- Helen had flushed red and bright as a virgin. Perhaps she had been, too proud to admit it. For a girl who is as sharp as a knife and twice as lethal, Shell had held in her hands a mourning dove, cooing softly in her palm, willing to piece together its nest there. Right there. With her.
Now, not so much. Her songbird doesn’t sing as she used to, her eyes parsing through the fog she’d been happy to let Shell pull over them. Helen sees her for what she is now, and they both know it.
It isn’t a strange thing, what she’s doing. Not at all irregular. It’s a gesture Shell had exercised over her innumerable times before, a kind of sordid foreplay, staking her claim over her. Shell’s hands lay flat upon Helen’s sternum, her heart thrumming steady but beating violent as a war drum; the older woman smiles- how well she’s taught her. Calm, girl, slow breaths. Don’t let them see you falter. Don’t let them feel you shiver. Don’t let them hear you breathe. In the face of fear, Helen had grown around herself flesh of stone, unyielding. That doesn’t change, not even around Shell.
But this isn’t a test. This isn’t one of her many lectures, her teachings. Very rarely does Madam Shell separate work from pleasure, seeing the two overlap rather conveniently; but for Helen she had all the time in the world. Perhaps not after tonight, given what they both know now. But pleasure is a special thing she keeps locked in a drawer for Helen to pry open and play in, rifle curious fingers through until they snag on something that piques her interest.
And yet it always ends the same way. Like this. The older woman atop her, faraway look in her eye, warbled smile on her lips. Hands around neck.
Her fingers slide slow, deft, thumb parted to curl her hand around the pale column of Helen’s throat. And she can do nothing but be still for her mentor, her lover, holding her breath in wide-eyed submission, a devotion that spoke beyond words, beyond meaning. A kind of reverence she knows only Shell would understand, a stillness like prey clutched within a lioness’ maw. Playing dead, prettily.
Shell’s eyes fix upon her, steel grey boring into vivid green, alight with something akin to amusement; in the daytime, Helen mistakes the glint for adoration, something like love, when she’s drunk enough on Shell’s affections to believe it.
Now, in the waning moon of their last night together- as they are, as they could have been, if only she didn’t know what she knows at the very pit of her being is true- she recognises the errant flicker for what it is. Kindling. A struck match, willing to burn it all down, even if it means taking sweet Helen with her. Her mourning dove. Cast to the fire like everything else. For a terrifying moment, Park isn’t even sure she’d much mind it at all. Ashes to ashes, as they say.
And as Shell squeezes her hand soft and gentle around her favourite girl’s neck, Helen surrenders her head against the pillow, spilling back with a moan shrill like a song. It’s the last time she knows she’ll ever sing for her again, so she makes sure it’s a good one.
#whatever the fuck this is !!!!#im so sorry this doesnt like make sense i just get carried away with prose and Vibes and i didnt even specify what kind of betrayal but .#i dont even think the Why would even matter to park#but the fact that the betrayal even exists at all is enough to cause her agony#i know i sound super pretentious shjakhjdsak but this was insanely fun to write and so easy??#was that inspired that the words just came effortlessly to me#but sorry for writing their names 4813978 times bc using 'her' kept confusing who was who ensjdjsjksdhfj#anyway#helen park#madam shell#helen park x madam shell#cod park#cod#call of duty#call of duty cold war#cod cw#cod bocw#call of duty black ops cold war#cod bo6#black ops 6#call of duty black ops 6#my writing
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BLOCK 🚫
im going thru the notes of this dumbass zionist's top posts and blocking everyone who agrees with them and i keep having to take breaks for the sake of my blood pressure. i am going to become rich and famous after i invent a device that allows you to stab people in the face over the internet
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Eighth Doctor out there collecting wlw companions like some kind of sticker book and honestly? Good for him!
#doctor who#liv chenka#helen sinclair#eighth doctor#big finish#femslash#liv x helen#river song#bliss#Izzy Sinclair#paternoster gang#madame vastra#jenny flint#strax
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I am cringe but I am free
#pizza time theatre#jasper t jowls#crusty the cat#Madame oink#Helen Henny#pasqually the chef#sally sashay#harmony Howlette#foxy colleen#Mr munch#dolli dimples#Artie antlers#bb bubbles#the king#the Warblettes#alignment chart#meme#chuck e cheese#pizza time theatre headcanons
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Arthur Benda/Madame d'Ora, Helene Jamrich wearing a hat designed by Rudolf Krieser (1910)
from here
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Helen McCrory as Madame Kali in Penny Dreadful (TV Series, 2014-2016).
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Penny Dreadful article - Radio Times I think, before season 1 premier in UK
#beautiful giant#josh hartnett#Eva green#penny Dreadful#timothy dalton#Ethan chandler#Vanessa Ives#sir Malcolm murray#Malcolm Murray#rory kinnear#frankenstein's creature#dorian gray#reeve carney#Helen mccrory#Evelyn Poole#madame kali#John Logan#radio times
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Helen McCrory as Evelyn Poole/Madame Kali
Penny Dreadful
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#the hundred foot journey#madame mallory und der duft von curry#manish dayal#helen mirren#charlotte le bon#om puri#amit shah#lasse hallström#steven spielberg#oprah winfrey
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Mrs Charles Sweeny (Margaret, Duchess of Argyll) as Helen of Troy
Photograph: The Yevonde Portrait Archive
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Doctor Who Platonic Poll: Round 1, Teams 13
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hi!
we are the guest star gals!
History: we all used to work for chuck e cheese's pizza time theatre and now we're roommates!
the gals:
I used to sing disco songs, and I've widened the genres of songs I sing now! (i'll post the most probably!)
-Sally
📀💿
I sang Irish folk songs for Pizza Time and still do but not for Chuck E. Cheese anymore! (like Sally I'll probably post the most frequently!)
-Foxy
🍀
I'm a former country singer and currently dating Jasper <3 (I will post a lot but probably not as much as Foxy & Sally)
-Harmony
🤠
I'm from France and used to sing French songs at Pizza Time Theatre! (posting semi often!)
-its ✨MADAM OHNK✨ not Madame Oink 😚
🇫🇷
I'm a former Hollywood star and current Broadway star! (I'll probably post the least often because of that ^^)
-Helen
🎭
also Bella B. is friends with us and has access so she might post occasionally! -Sally
🦨
🦊
🐺
🐖
🐔
(the Wolf emoji is there because a coyote emoji doesn't exist yet! -Foxy)
#introduction post!#pizza time theatre#sally sashay#foxy colleen#harmony howlette#madam oink#madame oink#helen henny#bella b#bella chuck e cheese
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Here is Fluttershy examining Helena Blavatsky’s veil.
At the College of Psychic Studies, in London, England.
#My Little Pony#g4#fluttershy#madame blavatsky#helene blavatsky#college of psychic studies#london#england
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