You Can Still Call Me Batten

She hoped she wasn't blushing too much. The last thing she needed was for Rumi to realize what she'd just been thinking about. Why am I just now remembering that night? Why not when I'm in private?

She cleared her throat. "What, the functionally versus actually part of it?" Rumi nodded. "Well, I'm actually probably closer to bisexual, if you wanna put a label on it. I am attracted to some men, I just..." Mira sneered, thinking of the many infuriating interactions she'd had over the years with the guys she'd been into. "I just can't stand when they open their mouths. Maybe it's just that my taste in guys is so goddamn awful, but every time I saw a guy that I thought was hot and went to go speak with them, they say something fucking stupid, and immediately all of my attraction to them goes out the window."

Rumi tilted her head curiously. "Like…awkward stupid?"

"No, Awkward Stupid is cute. Someone stumbling over their words, or putting their foot in their mouth-as long as they don't say something revealingly offensive-or getting their word order mixed up, all of that? That shit's adorable. Hot even, for some people." She tried not to look directly at Rumi when she said that, afraid she might give away the fact that one of those people was her.

And Zoey, her mind supplied, images of the last time she'd seen her passing through her brain, far more family friendly than the previous memory it'd forced on her.

She continued, "I mean like Gross Stupid. Like this one guy-super hot, had a cute smile, all that, but when I asked him about what he liked to do for fun, he smirked at me and told me he likes 'smashing puss.'" Mira held up her fingers and bent them to perform the air quotes around his answer.

Rumi's face scrunched up in disgust. "Ew, what the fuck?"

"I know! Right?" Mira scoffed. "And that was one of the less awful dudes I've met. I've heard far worse than that." She shook her head, and let out a huff of breath through her nostrils. "Again, don't know if it's just my awful taste in guys, but I just can't seem to find a decent dude I think is hot. So I stopped trying to pursue them altogether.

Rumi nodded, smiling. "So I take it your taste in girls is better, then?"

Mira laughed. "Definitely. I've only come across a couple of Gross Stupid women that I was into as opposed to the entire sea of gross stupid men."

Rumi's smile waned gradually after that. Her mouth opened and closed a few times, and her gaze fell back down to her hands, situated on top of the bar.

"What?" Mira asked her.

"What about..." Rumi started, her eyes still down. "What about Awkward Stupid girls? Have you met any of those that you were into?"

Heat grew on Mira's face. "Uh, yeah. Yeah, I've...I've met those. Plenty of 'em, in fact."

The other girl nodded slowly. Her head turned back towards Mira, and when they locked eyes, hers were hesitant, but heated. "Have you...met any recently?"

Mira sucked in a breath. Oh. She's flirting with me. "Yeah," she rushed out. "Yeah, I have."

Snippet of what I’ve written so far for Goin’ Round This Roundabout Chapter 3

Ohhhh that would be. Not good! Seeing as this is an au where Rumi was conceived during rape.

Might be a little like this:

Celine is turning to her, oh no, turning the full brunt of her fury on Rumi—

And the anger dissolves into something else, something horrible, like terror, like abject pain.

Zoey’s hands squeeze the mutt’s shoulders; she hadn’t noticed them touching her at all.

Mira huffs. She’s planted herself directly in front of the mutt. “Let's try that again, huh? Kid, this is Celine, who is usually cooler than this. Celine, say ‘hi, kid who can barely squeeze a lemon without feeling bad about it’.” 

Celine abruptly schools her expression into perfect neutrality. She’s looking directly at the mutt from behind Mira’s shoulder. Something in her intent focus is almost reminiscent of Rumi. Truly, this is the gaze of a hunter.

The mutt swallows, the urge to run fighting with the urge to placate the Hunter fighting with the urge to duck herself closer behind Mira and all resulting in her doing nothing but shaking like the miserable, useless creature she is.

Zoey’s hands squeeze her shoulders again, comfortingly, pulling her back to her body.

Celine bends down to pick up her bag, finally looking away.

“Do you want to go back into the kitchen?” Zoey asks quietly. “You can stay in there as long as you want.”

The mutt shakes her head. If she went, she would never come back.

“You’re sure? I can go with you if that helps,” she adds.

But the mutt—the mutt looks over at Rumi, and Celine, and their intense gazes. She’s like me. Her voice shakes, but she still manages to force herself to speak. “I want to be brave.”

The silence on the way to the couch is deeply awkward. And when they sit down.

“I am sorry,” the mutt says, remembering.

Everyone looks at her.

“About your tupperware,” she clarifies for Celine. “I should not have stolen it.”

And despite how Rumi and Mira and Zoey had talked about how upset Celine would get over the good tupperware being gone—though only ever when they thought the mutt could not hear, which meant the consequences very much would impact the mutt—Celine does not get angry.

“It’s alright,” she says. She does not sound like she means much it, everything flat and hollow, but she says it. “The girls can get new ones.”

The mutt wishes that she would just be upset. It is easier than kindness, even real-kindness and not false-kindness, though she knows it would make Mira, Zoey, and Rumi sad if she said that. Even so, it can feel like waiting to be hit.

Her voice had been so warm and alive, behind the door, when she was speaking to Rumi. And then she had seen the mutt, and became quiet and careful.

The mutt understands. When you’re dealing with an unknown threat, it is smart to wait and observe. But she is in no way a threat to Celine, and she knows how dangerous it is for her to be perceived that way. What she doesn’t know is how to fix it.

Mira catches her eye and wiggles her eyebrows. The mutt does her best to wiggle back.

“Orange slices, anyone?” Mira says in a perfect monotone.

“Yes, please!” Rumi and Zoey say almost in tandem, and then smile warmly at each other.

The mutt collects all these looks for morale and looks at Celine. “You—you have raised Rumi well,” she stumbles. “She’s—great.”

Rumi smothers a laugh with an orange slice. But Celine frowns.

“Thank you,” she says slowly. “She is.”

Rumi chokes the orange down and fans herself. “Oh, go on.”

Celine eyes her sidelong. “With an ego to match, I’m sure.”

“I do nothing by half measures,” Rumi agrees.

“Mm,” says Celine, and is silent again.

Mira turns to Celine. “How about you ask her a question?” she says bluntly.

Celine obligingly turns to look at the mutt, and the mutt does her very best to meet her eyes. She manages only a glance. There’s something unfocused in Celine’s gaze. “How are you finding your room?”

“Good,” the mutt forces herself to say. “It’s—it’s very good.”

“Hm,” says Celine.

The mutt wants to wipe her sweaty palms on her nice new linen pants, but she resists.

“She’s been into linear algebra lately,” Mira says pointedly. “She thinks eigen decomposition is elegant.”

“I see,” says Celine.

The mutt has something stuck in her throat, she’s pretty sure, although she hasn’t touched the orange slices.

She takes a deep breath through her nose, grabbing her temper tight. “I don’t know what your issue is, but you better work it out before we get back in there.”

Celine doesn’t say anything.

Rumi doesn’t know what she expected, but it wasn’t that.

She turns around.

Celine is still standing at the door.

Rumi presses a hand against her temple, tired. “Look, I—I know I’ve done a lot of things that weren’t necessarily what you’ve wanted, but—“

“What?”

“She’s just a kid,” she finishes, nonetheless. “Whatever it is, don’t take it out on her.”

Celine looks—stricken, for some reason, at this remark. “Rumi-ya, I—I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I never meant—I promised—“

“To protect all that was left of my mother, I know.” Rumi’s only heard it a million times. “Is that all you care about?”

“No, I—“ Celine closes her eyes and leans back against the door. “Before that. Miyeong made me promise her that I would never hold the demon against you.”

And Rumi’s breath stops. Her anger falters.

The demon means her father, however rarely Celine has spoken of him. Rarely enough that Rumi’s never heard this before.

“And I know she isn’t guilty of…” Celine pushes the heels of her hands into her eyes. “She looks so much like him.“

“Guilty?” Rumi echoes, the lump in her throat a violent and living thing.

(She doesn’t remember when she first came to the quiet, sickening conclusion that her father had raped her mother. She does remember the moment—the exact moment, watching Jinu look at that little girl with her hand drawn card—when she’d let herself consider anything else.)

Celine opens her eyes. “I never once looked at you and saw anything other than someone your mother loved. I know she isn’t your father. I’ll get over it, I promise. I just need a minute.”

(The consideration turns to ash.)

“No, you’re not,” Mira grumbles, visibly annoyed. “Celine is.”

“You were cute as a button!” Zoey agrees, and takes her hand so that now the cuticle-worrying is a much greater logistical challenge.

“Are buttons very good at making a good first impression?” 

Zoey giggles. “Well… Celine is notoriously hard to impress.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mira says firmly.

The mutt frowns. None of that sounds right. “You don’t need to lie,” she says.

Mira looks offended. “I don’t lie.”

“She’s a Hunter,” says the mutt. “I’m a demon.”

“Can I make it any more obvious?” says Zoey. “No, Mira’s right, though. Even if that was her problem, no way that’s your fault. She knows better by now.”

“I think she’s… scared of me,” says the mutt.

They both laugh. 

The mutt slips her hand away and tucks it in her lap.

“Nooo, sweetie, I’m sorry,” Zoey scrambles. “It’s just, we know Celine. She doesn’t get scared like that.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s a block of granite brought to life,” says Mira.

The mutt stares at her lap. She trusts their judgement, so much more than her own. But she knows what fear looks like.

On the streets, in a situation like this, the best strategy was to run. But, maybe here there could be a better option. She had rarely had the opportunity to clarify her intentions. Well, except—except for the woman who had taken the containers. And now she’s gotten to apologize for that too.

For all the good that did. In order to explain herself, she needs to be able to explain stuff. 

Mira snickers.

The mutt considers her plan. Her thumb starts to drift towards her cuticle again.

“We should do your nails sometime,” Mira says, passing her an orange segment, not casually at all.

Unfortunately, they took the peels off earlier, so all the fiddling that she could do with the orange would be messy. She takes it anyway.

“Ooh, yes!” Zoey agrees. She holds her hands out in front of her, examining her nails. “Since we’re on hiatus right now, glam won’t even yell at us for at-home mani-pedis; we could have a chill hangout here or we could make a whole thing of it.”

The mutt knows this is an attempt to distract her from thinking about Celine. She hides her smile behind the orange segment. Lucky that she came up with an idea already.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Mira adds. She gestures between herself and Zoey. “We might be beholden to makeup culture and shit, but you shouldn’t be.”

The mutt considers this, for a moment. Zoey had helped her clean and trim her nails once, on the same day she had taught her how to wash her hands properly (all while rambling about how being several centuries old did not mean that a demon couldn’t keep up with advances in hygiene).

It was nice, having someone hold her hands so gently.

“Maybe,” she says. She would need to know more about what ‘a whole thing of it’ means first.

Before she can explain that, she hears footsteps down the hall, and goes still. Now it is time for her to put her plan into action.

Rumi comes in first, and she looks at the mutt, and she is… devastated. It is such an expression that the mutt looks down at herself, half-expecting to see blood spreading across her warm new shirt.

But there is nothing. And now her timing is off.

EYECRIMES WERE REQUESTED AND SO HERE THEY ARE FOR SHAME! @whitebeltwriter @huntrx-dont-miss @secondtolastrow ARE YOU PROUD OF YOURSELVES TUMBLR SICKOS DOT COM DOT PNG???

IN THE WET CORNER, FOR TRAUMA FEST 2026, YOUR REIGNING CHAMPION........ RYU RUMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII IN THE ALSO WET CORNER, A NEW CHALLENGER.... MUTT LASTNAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE???????

OUR SOB OFF BEGINS STRONGLY, SEOUL IS UNDERWATER IN THE FIRST 10 MINUTES

CELINE HAS FLOATED AWAY

ZOEY AND MIRA HAVE FOUND A BOAT. SO FAR, BOTH CONTENDERS HAVE PERFECT POINTS FOR SOBBING: CRITERIA: BIG SAD EYES, AMOUNT OF TEARS, POWER CRYING

JOIN US NEXT TIME FOR THE NEXT EVENT:

SAYING YOU ARE FINE WHEN YOU ARE CLEARLY NOT FINE AT ALL

🫡 gotcha pal

HOW COULD WE FORGET!

THE CHAMPION OF ANGST

THE TEARS FROM JEJU!

THE SOBBER OF SEOUL!

UNDISPUTED! UNDEFEATED!

KANG CELINEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

top gun: hawk and widow

feel the need... the need for speed!

but, if this is you, please hear me: this feeling is internalized transphobia. it's understandable, but you need to work through it. you are trans.

there are not "levels" to being trans.

there are material circumstances that can impact how transphobia impacts you. the more things you choose to do with your life that are prohibited according to assignment, the more you will experience transphobia, because transphobia is assignment enforcement. so yes, trans people who encounter these structural modes of enforcement are experiencing transphobia that those who are not encountering these structures are not.

(for example, I have not changed my name or gender marker legally. this means I have not experienced the specific mechanism of assignment enforcement that exists to restrict legal sexgender re-categorization. I have changed my sexed traits medically (hormones and surgery) so I have experienced the specific mechanism of assignment enforcement that exists to restrict bodily autonomy over sexed characteristics. these are structures, right?)

but we are all trans. avoiding these structures to avoid dealing with the transphobia inherent to navigating them is also experiencing the impact of this enforcement. whether you decide to go up against any specific enforcement structures or not, you are still trans. you are still experiencing living in a world that enforces assignment and punishes people for disobedience to it. you are still being impacted by this restriction on your autonomy, whether you openly fight any particular aspect of this restriction or not.

at a time when people are constantly promoting the idea that

nonbinary people "don't transition,"

nonbinary can mean being "detrans" or cisgender,

nonbinary people are "neither trans or cis" or "less trans" than other trans people,

nonbinary people are always assigned female at birth and transfems can't be nonbinary

we need to all understand this is an effort to insist that:

nonbinary people are somehow inherently, categorically different from other trans people,

that we do not have shared material interests or life experiences navigating the same structures of assignment enforcement, and

that TME nonbinary people should not work together with transfeminized people--nonbinary or not--for shared liberation.

this is some divide-and-conquer shit. we cannot allow this idea to flourish. it is dangerous.

i feel it makes me an arbitrator of knowledge and experience that i do not have and will detract from speaking on

here is what I think: no trans person is an arbiter. every trans person can only speak to their own life experience and accumulated knowledge.

some trans people spend a lot of time and effort collecting information about many trans people’s experiences (through talking to a lot of people, doing surveys and studies, etc). some trans people spend a lot of time and effort applying and modifying theoretical frameworks about oppression to form coherent analysis around trends in experience. these people can speak to the knowledge and understandings that they have about transness broadly, and can cite their sources and explain their influences that led them to these conclusions.

any legitimacy someone holds when talking about transness is not an innate quality derived from their identity; it is an earned, living, relational trust.

you can speak on your own experiences and whatever knowledge and understanding you have gained from engagement with these things. same as any trans person.

you might not know a lot yet, so you might not have much knowledge to offer in these situations besides anecdotes from your own life right now. that’s fine and is the case for many trans people.

in my opinion, as long as you are humble and honest about the limits of your own knowledge about transness when you speak on it, then you are responsibly wielding that label and not detracting from anyone else's experiences.

also there are trans people who are irresponsible with this all the time & claim anecdotes from their own life is in-and-of-itself proof of some universal truth about what it means to be trans. they're still trans. trans people grift and let themselves be tokenized sometimes. transness does not imply knowledge, authority, or investment in trans liberation in and of itself.

trans people are just people. there is no test. saying you're trans is just an honest report that you are not living your life within relational/medical/legal bounds of the sexgender assigned to you.

I think it's wonderful that you feel responsibility to treat discussion about being trans with gravity. it is genuinely a very good thing to move with respect for how these discussions impact other people's lives.

you do not need to deny yourself language to maintain this respect. in fact, your ability to advocate for trans people more broadly may strengthen when you claim your stake in the struggle directly.