Belle_Nightingale

"Hi, this is Belle Nightingale with the Glade City Tribune, can I get a statement?"

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Belle_Nightingale

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@supreme_chancellor: Well, I for one don't think it's wrong for you to speculate based on anything you may have seen or experiences of close loved ones or anything; just as long as you're not speaking from a disingenuous position or being a fluffer about it [dialogue is necessary for genuine understanding], but alright.

Can you run this by me one more time because I've read over it like four times and cannot glean any meaning from it, no matter how hard I try.

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Belle_Nightingale

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@trinity-blue: I've often held harsh criticism to feminism (for example) because of it's inability to tolerate criticism and the victimization lots of people who identity as feminist project. But I just don't know, I've seen a lot of genuine misogynists hide behind the argument that it's "cool" to be a victim and dismiss the "victim" on that stance, so I don't really like that line of thought because it marginalizes the real victims (who are many) even more. I don't know. I mean "victims" are only cool among their own circles. Nobody else is gonna think you're cool apart from other "victims". So if there're all seeking the same validation in their circles, there has to be some truth?

Basically what I wanted to say but hadn't decided how to phrase yet.

I've fallen victim to this garbage firsthand, and it's a toxic train of thought. Not that bigots wouldn't find any excuse available, but as a transwoman, the amount of times I've heard people talk about transgender people "pretending" for the "attention" or to be "victims" is genuinely fucking sickening. And way more common than you might think. So even there's a minority (WITHIN the minority) that don't know their place or, by some miracle, decided to start hormone treatments, change their wardrobe, go by a different name, etc., all for the attention, it isn't worth the marginalization and invalidation that goes the way of the actual community.

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Belle_Nightingale

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Sexuality is whatever/whoever makes your wiener go boing/taco go sploosh.

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Belle_Nightingale

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#4  Edited By Belle_Nightingale
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Belle_Nightingale

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#5  Edited By Belle_Nightingale
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Belle_Nightingale

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#6  Edited By Belle_Nightingale

I did a thing *fidgets more*

Footnotes

  • Belle killed some peeps
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Belle_Nightingale

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#7  Edited By Belle_Nightingale
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The field of battle moved quickly, for one who had been silent for so long. It seemed she had barely even arrived at the scene, her goal still somewhat murky, before she was teleported (rather messily) to another place and pointed at another target.

Teleporting, unfortunately, had exhibited a massively destructive effect on her barely-solid physiology, dispersing her body completely into a wave of ash-like vapor. By the time her body had formed into a single, cohesive, semi-solid whole once more, the target was out of sight -- and the hulking, feral man that had "traveled" alongside her was gone as well. All that surrounded her now was madness. Blood, chaos, combat. People fighting, people dying. A few she recognized from the dossiers she'd been given, recognized targets. Officers, high-profile soldiers, the occasional low-end enhanced "asset" sent into the field to die with the other grunts. Others she recognized as being part of this little crusade that Belle herself had been recruited into. The woman with the wings, she recognized. The man with the claws. X himself, not that she could see him at her current location. She took a moment to sort herself, go through what she remembered and the tiny amount of information she'd been given before the spit had, metaphorically, hit the fan.

She was here to fight, and kill, and she had agreed to that. All in the name of protecting metahumans and keeping the balance between those who would evolve, and those who would hold back the evolving.

Her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword, the Lash of the Tyrant, that dark artifact that had brought her back to life, given her form. She hadn't even noticed that she'd unsheathed it, didn't remember taking it into her hand. It throbbed with its dark desire, a will to be used for whatever purpose, whispering promises of carnage and vengeance and bloodshed into the mind of the Drowned Woman, the banshee, Belle Nightingale.

"Use what I've given you," it whispered to her, burbling messages, the sounds of slurping and a soft wind, all caressing her mind from the inside. Such an insidious, invasive thing it was. "Use me. Destroy everything. Kill everyone."

She stared at it for a long time, into the single black, slitted, unblinking eye on the crossguard that stared back at her. If eyes could smile, this one did.

And Belle smiled back.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

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"Hlllkk...!" The last words of one soldier as Belle possessed his body, then re-formed herself from within him, blasting a hole in him about the size of a curvy, six foot tall woman. She phased forward, the Lash now extended into it's chain form, phasing along with her and lashing to and fro like the tail of an angry cat, neatly bisecting soldier after soldier as she moved through them. She used their soft, fleshy bodies as teleportation marks, possessing them for just a split second and then phasing through them, sending massive chunks of gore and blood shooting every which way as the White Wraith made her way through the battlefield. Where her eyes fell, where her body moved, helpless soldiers would burst. Bullets went through her like a stone through water, causing only a small ripple in her buxom silhouette before driving through the allies behind her. And each soldier that took aim either burst like the others, or felt the Lash.

"Fall back! Bullets don't do it! Prepare energy weapo--mmmpphh... mmplpph... gggrrrrlllgghhhh...."

Water gushed from the officer's overfilled lungs, dissipating before it hit the ground as he fell victim to Belle's drowning embrace, one last moment of pleasure before death overcame him.

"Oh God... oh God oh God oh fluff, we gotta get outta here, she's--" Silenced as the Lash shot through the front of his head, his body sliding down and tumbling into the trench he'd been rushing towards. A pang of guilt gave Belle pause for one moment, guilt that quickly dissipated when another storm of bullets rippled through her incorporeal body. A wave of lethal pain from her psychic, undead scream sent dozens more bodies to the ground, never to move again until they were dragged off of the bloody field of war.

Belle took in a deep, false breath, more to steady herself and relax than out of any genuine need for oxygen. The Lash slid back into a compact form, and the wraith tucked in neatly under her forearm. So much death. The blade loved it, and so, she loved it as well. But there were so many who still needed to die.

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Belle_Nightingale

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Belle_Nightingale

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@belle_nightingale: Dr. Steele nodded. "I'm glad I could help, Belle. Did you have any questions?"

"I... don't think so. Not for now. I need time with what I've already learned." She paused, furrowing her brow as if unsure about something, then nodded again. "Thank you, doctor."

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Belle_Nightingale

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