prefs & specs
Apr. 6th, 2029 05:26 amshipping: m/m
texting: open to misfires & crosscanon
ooc triggers: n/a
ic triggers: talking irreverently about his dead mom and sister, threatening cheng jingsen, kidnapping
yin han spans 17-24 over canon, precanon background 15 when he loses his mother and sister and presumably in the years between that and 17 he lives with chang yu and attends xicang high school in chinatown.
painter (this is not clearly known to the reader for a big chunk of the novel, but the other main character knows due to having a thorough background check done on yin han from the start). in his own head, he has lost 'art' from when he was 15 and imitation is what he's truly good at.
liar
orphan
despite his single icon he technically has longer hair — enough to tie it back unless he's older...which is when that single icon is from rip
vengeance focused (for a long time)
jaw drop gorgeous "transcends gender" images
big fear of heights
varying levels of ptsd depending on canon point (pre/post kidnapping for example)
texting: open to misfires & crosscanon
ooc triggers: n/a
ic triggers: talking irreverently about his dead mom and sister, threatening cheng jingsen, kidnapping
yin han spans 17-24 over canon, precanon background 15 when he loses his mother and sister and presumably in the years between that and 17 he lives with chang yu and attends xicang high school in chinatown.
painter (this is not clearly known to the reader for a big chunk of the novel, but the other main character knows due to having a thorough background check done on yin han from the start). in his own head, he has lost 'art' from when he was 15 and imitation is what he's truly good at.
liar
orphan
despite his single icon he technically has longer hair — enough to tie it back unless he's older...which is when that single icon is from rip
vengeance focused (for a long time)
jaw drop gorgeous "transcends gender" images
big fear of heights
varying levels of ptsd depending on canon point (pre/post kidnapping for example)
at the edge
Apr. 15th, 2023 01:21 pmcanon divergent specifics: bombing happens when yin han is 17 as opposed to 15.
( it's been hard to sleep. closing his eyes means reliving the bomb or the hospital room or both. yin han's hands constantly shake, making it hard to hold onto things, and chang yu generously extending his homestay with the offer to move in with her hasn't been as reassuring as someone else might find it. piled against one wall in the homestay: painting after painting, some better than others, a few yin han would rather never look at again. not that any of it matters anymore.
the japanese benefactor had had one of his people reach out to him after and the implications were clear. yin han politely requested time to consider.
in truth, he has no intention of accepting. he has someone else whose high profile he must invite himself into. chang yu is the way in to cheng jingsen's world, and so yin han waits. there is no money for a proper funeral. yin han could not even claim their ashes. standing with a pale hand gripped too tightly around a subway pole, his thin frame jerks as the train lurches. there is not time or energy to spend on regret. he can only move forward, and to do what he wants to do, he must have resolve.
the rumors of chinatown for cheng jingsen make him sound frightening and powerful, which yin han supposes the leader of such a gang would be. even the compliments are studded with glass shards, and yin han expects maybe even these are too kind. from chang yu he only learns that he has this man to blame for his family's unfair departure, and, that, perhaps, the look of yin han would appeal enough to such a man that he could take that opportunity. if he is willing. it takes a certain kind of strength and resilience to be a good dog, is what yin han gleans, and if he's honest, he's not sure.
with his sleep deprived head overwhelmed by all of these thoughts, he's exited the train at delancey and essex and walked a couple blocks before he realizes he's being followed.
he tries not to let them know he's noticed, but he's not sure he succeeds, turning a corner near one of the many street vendors with bigger set-ups — an improbable amount of fruit for winter, but chinatown runs its own rules and seasons and the people who live there are hardy, habitual creatures — and running only after that. he hasn't done much exploring since being in manhattan, the camp he'd been sent to previously in new jersey, and the high school in chinatown so close to his homestay it was laughable, so despite the grid system of the streets, yin han manages to lose track of where he is.
chinatown is one of the oldest parts of new york city, and the handfuls of atypical streets and layouts once made a prime ground for more common and frequent street warfare. twice, he trips but gets up almost in the same motion, apologizing to the vehemently yelling vendor or stranger depending. his intent is to stay where it's more populated, at first, but then he thinks of the bomb and his mother and his sister. if they simply hadn't been there...
yin han veers off towards an area he hasn't been in much, and the streets get narrower, almost too narrow for a car even if there is a "street" portion along with the beaten up sidewalks. he hasn't gotten more than a few steps into a side alley when he's slammed against the brick of the building. light breaks up in his vision, dull ringing in his ears. the kids who would bully him and try to trap him in school never succeeded, for yin han was too fast. but he's running on empty, less than empty. the fight and nerve he has in his stain of a heart doesn't have a physicality to back it up.
even so, blood in his mouth, yin han has the gall and inarguably brashness to stand, to face the attackers he does not recognize. it's not like there was anyone near the car when it blew up, anyone except his family. he knows if he tries to fight, he will lose, and it's almost funny how the desire is there anyway, to expend some of his fury and his loss on someone who's got no better or worse in mind for him. he wants to ask why but knows just enough about hierarchy to understand he'd get nothing useful from these people. three seems like a lot to send after a high school student best known for his paintings, and he can't even feel flattered. he's just a loose end, a thing confirmed by the way the man throws him back against the wall again, his hand tight around his throat in a way that makes yin han gasp.
he expects a knife or even a gun.
what the man pulls out with his other hand is neither.
it's a vial of yin han has no idea what, but he promptly shuts his mouth and does his best to turn his head away. in his peripheral vision he can see as the man nods to one of the others who reaches out to grab yin han's face, fingers digging into his cheeks to force his mouth open. he doesn't understand. there must be easier ways to kill him. his head hurts. ah, it's probably pointless. but he struggles as much as he can, and somehow manages to kick his first assailant hard enough to stun him, thrashing out of the other's hold when he goes down. it's a step, maybe less, towards the mouth of the alley before he's pushed to the ground. again his vision spots. the snow on the ground was clean in this alley before they all came into it. speckles of pale red ruin it.
his longer hair makes it easy for his head to be yanked back, and they try to force his mouth open again. )
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