#minkyu.misc

[mihlen]

Daily 'Drabble' (2025.01.01)

From January's personal "drabble a day" challenge, though this one went over. These dailies are unedited and do not represent polished work.

"Yeesh—he didn't have to hit me and kick me out." Back at a time before he was a he, a young man rubbed his arms in the cold, blinking against the fog of his own words. He glared back at his uncle’s shop over his shoulder, lifting his chin. “That’s abuse, you know that? This isn’t Korea!” No response, of course. Typical. The cold rubbed at his nose and ears, and sniffling, he glanced left then right on the poorly lit street. All this because he forgot to set out some incense? So what? It wasn’t even the Lunar holiday. Everything was closed for New Year’s, so where was he even supposed to go? His uncle hadn’t even given him his phone. Minkyu, before he was called Minkyu, sat down with a huff on the stoop, cupping his hands over his face and breathing out. It was so cold his hair felt wet against his cheeks even though it wasn’t. “Grumpy old geezer.” There would come a time when this young man would succeed his uncle in the magical shop, inheriting power and title—but this is a scene before Apfel was called Apfel. He wouldn’t be called that for many years to come.

[mihlen]

Drabble Backlog (2025.02.26)

From January's personal "drabble a day" challenge, originally written January 29, 2025. These dailies are unedited and do not represent polished work.

Once upon a time, back when tigers used to smoke, Minkyu Han used to get money for Seol. He remembers when he got dolled up in pretty hanboks and bowed on his knees for his relatives, right hand over left. That had been shortly before he showed up in dress shirt and slacks, left hand over right, and began to get an earful over careless presentation. Either way, he left the holiday with a colorful stack of bills, ready to blow out within the month on petty hangouts with his friends. And then came that brief, dark age when he was, allegedly, too old to pass out well wishes for cash. He doesn’t like to think of those grim, dreary days. “But this is more like it,” Apfel crows to himself as the gift baskets roll in: premium fruits and expensive fragrances, gold coins and blessings alongside gift cards and fancy tech from more modern clientele—and was that a luxury charcuterie platter in the back? Yes, please! His old codger of an uncle may have worked him over without pay for years, but the sucking-up his title brought Apfel since he inherited it almost (almost) made up for it.

[mihlen]

Daily Excerpt (2024.08.29)

An excerpt from "An Interview with NEW WORLD'S Roger Shin" (working title). These dailies are unedited and do not represent the final product.

Minkyu And we have joining us in the studio today—we know him, we love him, CEO of NEW WORLD—Mr. Roger Shin!

The word 'APPLAUSE' flashes on the well-dressed robot's TV head, before he laughs and waves a hand.

Roger Oh, I'm just joshing! I'm happy to be here, Minkyu, I really, truly am. […]

Minkyu So, we have our first series of questions here—let's tackle them one at a time! Tell us, Roger—any new upcoming product launches we should keep an eye out for?

Roger crosses one leg over the other, leaning forward in his chair.

Roger As a matter of fact, Minkyu, we do! This summer we're unveiling the new and improved Shinsung Nebula 14—but I'm sure you're all sick of hearing about that by now. 'We get it, we get it,' I hear you! So today I'm here to announce an exciting new endeavor instead…

[mihlen]

Daily Excerpt (2024.08.22)

An excerpt from "Corsetry" (working title). These dailies are unedited and do not represent the final product.

“<Just what’s so appealing about this?>” Minkyu asks dryly in Korean, skin raising gooseflesh as the cold boning of the corset presses up against his front. “<Sure in the 17th century, but now it’s just like. Those creepy Meitu filters.>” Flamel doesn’t speak as they close the corset clasp by clasp, but even without turning his head, Minkyu can feel the smile radiating off them. Annoying. He tilts his head back, trying to rest it against his lover’s shoulder. “<And really, a western look? I knew you were a shill, dear, but let’s have a little pride—>” He startles at the sudden seize of the corset as Flamel yanks the strings. His waist tucks, molding to the shape his lover has chosen for him, and fuck, from that perspective maybe this is kind of hot. Turns out it isn’t like that scene in The Handmaiden, a foot to the back and dramatic drawstrings—instead, Flamel makes it sensual, making each tug almost cloying, all without a word.  As the corset draws from snug to actually tight, Minkyu gasps. He feels his diaphragm lift, straining against the tension of the boning. Suddenly, Flamel’s voice comes from too close to his ear, ghosting against the shell of it.  “<Breathe out>.” Shivering, Minkyu does. Flamel times their pull to his exhale and the corset ratchets even tighter like a vise and doesn’t loosen. Fuck. “<Excuse me~ Flamel-ssi~>” he starts, trying to squirm, and his heart skips a beat to find he can’t—the corset’s structure too rigid for his spine. When he tries to draw breath, it feels shallow, sitting too high in his chest. He feels his cheeks color with warmth, knows Flamel must sense it too. “<Isn’t this a little extreme~?>.”  “<Not at all~>” Flamel replies, mellifluous, tone sweet as honey—the poisonous kind, the one made of plants that can kill a man. As the laces pull tighter still, he feels both of their hands roam over the front of his corset, sliding up to wrap menacingly around his throat. Out the corner of his eye, his heart drops in dread as Flamel places a pair of towering heels onto the table with a tentacle. “<We’re just getting started, darling~ ♡>”

(This excerpt features idolkilling's OC Xero.)