How do you kill this wanting?
How do you strangle this yearning?
ASHENATH 蔡若晗
You are not a saint
only a self-made god And gods do not beg but they do wait
where do you
start?
Ichor drips from
your fingertips
Gold glistens
on your lips
You KnOw yoUr FaLl wiLl Be aS sWeEt
It's all romanticism, nonsense, rottenness, and art
People do not see you
They invent you and accuse you
| Name | ASHENATH |
| Birth Name | 蔡若晗 (Tsai Ruo-han) |
| Pronouns | She/Her |
| D.O.B | October 31st, 2000 |
| Blood Type | A+ |
NOBODY ASKED FOR YOU AND NOBODY PRETENDED OTHERWISE.
Your mother left you on the stone steps of your father’s house when you were eight, bundled in an oversized coat you didn’t like and clutching a plastic bag of your own clothes. She rang the bell and walked away without looking back. You watched the car drive off until it turned the corner and disappeared. The house was large and gray and had too many windows. One of them opened. Someone inside asked who you were. You didn’t answer. You didn’t know the correct title.They let you in after a while. A maid took your coat and studied your fingernails as if they were part of the inventory. No one asked if you were hungry. No one asked about school. You stood in the foyer and waited to be assigned.For weeks they discussed sending you away. You learned this later, years after it stopped mattering. Someone suggested the orphanage in the next city, someone else mentioned boarding schools that specialized in children who arrived without warning. Eventually they kept you. The family explained it as charity, or duty, or convenience. They never selected a single story. They didn’t think you needed one.No one explained the family business. It was old, enormous, and hidden in paperwork that arrived in thick envelopes. The house hosted dinners for men with pale hands and women in expensive dresses who spoke about markets and reputation. You learned those words without understanding them. You ate in the kitchen with the maid. You didn’t mind. Things were quieter there.At school the teachers liked you because you never caused trouble and never asked for help. You sat in the back row and watched the other children behave like gravity did not apply to them. They were not smarter or kinder; they just believed someone would catch them if they fell. You admired that confidence. You never attempted it.The only person who cared enough to study you was your stepbrother. He was older and perpetually tired, as if responsibility was a condition he’d contracted early and never recovered from. He brought you books without inscriptions and taught you how to read stock tickers in the business section. He drove you to the beach in the winter when the house felt too crowded and the air too stagnant. He said the family had a long history of misplacing people. You asked what that meant. He told you you’d figure it out.He died in a car crash in 2024. The news was brief and efficient. The funeral was crowded with strangers who praised his intelligence and discipline. No one mentioned the afternoons in the car or the quiet lessons about money and disappointment. You stood by the coffin and felt nothing except the weight of his absence. It settled inside you like furniture you didn’t choose.You stopped trying to predict what came next.
c0LlaPse aND cRuMBle
tHiS Is N0t yOUr DeSTruCtion
ThiS is YouR biRTh
SUGAR +
& SPICE
You rarely gives your opinion on something. People assume you have no stance because of this. The truth is you have too many and none of them invite company.
You get tired around people who talk about their feelings. Feelings behaves like pets, they do tricks for attention. Though Nuwa, your cat, don't do that.
You eat slowly in public and too fast when alone.
You have a resting bitch face that scares people away, yet when you smile people have no problem inviting themselves into your orbit.
You have high tolerance for boredom. Boredom feels familiar and requires nothing. Excitement carries expectations, and expectations lead to disappointment.
You remember small details about others and almost nothing about yourself. Favorite color, broken belongings, the way someone drank their tea three years ago. But when asked what you want, you have no answer ready.
| RELATION
soft wrongness gentle ruthlessness
| Ong Sze Hui | A distant origin point that never asks to be found. |
| The Tsai-Kao | A house full of polished strangers that used you as a decoration. |
| Gilbert Chiang | A gentle nuisance who tries to show how wrong you are about yourself. |
| Pamela Tan | A planet that drifted out of orbit. |
| BEYOND THE WRECKAGEThis is fiction by 天瑞, constructed for roleplay and affiliated with @TKCircle. Nothing here claims truth. Partnered writing offer is possible by discussion in advance. Inquiries go through DM. Thank you.