Mik Kaufman

Looks like I can't mansplain, manipulate, manwhore my way out of this one

[stranded-mik]

Mik Kaufman || The Amicable

About | Bio | Interview | Tags | Timeline

Mik grew up in London. He was a rugby star through highschool and then university, but he failed to play professionally, dropping out of uni and becoming a personal trainer. Shilling protein shakes, Mik reconnected with his old school-mate Nick and together they started their own protein shake/lifestyle brand business, Yas Shakes. For a while they rode the high life, until Mik gambled away the bulk of their money. As if things couldn't get any worse, Nick found out he was pregnant. They brought a child into the world as their lives were crashing down and ultimately gave her up. Just when Mik thought he’d hit rock bottom, Nick was kidnapped, tortured and then went missing, presumed dead. Mik spent the following years a ghost of himself, until he ended up on Meridium, reunited, but at what cost?

Written by Grey (she/her) GMT+13

[stranded-mik]

akbartheolder​:​

Emre’s facts: Yanks had their own version of fake-smiles, usually meant to mask pain.  The English masked absolute rage with their sunny smirks.  Emre was no stranger to employing the pissed smile. And usually, seeing Mik’s chipper toothy grin would please Emre, a vicious pleasure of making someone so pissed, he had to amp the saccharine…usually right before a punch landed.

Mik wouldn’t punch him.  Mik might punch him.  And Emre would like it too much to put a stop to it.  Fucking hell, he couldn’t let it escalate to that, but he’d already cocked up by chatting blithely about Nick.

So Emre tried to recalibrate through - who else? - an Iyaz filter.  If some prick started in with the chummy chat about Iyaz…of course Emre would want to throttle them.  What was Emre thinking, bring up Nick?  Amateur move, unpracticed at this whole…making amends bollocks.

Because that was what he was trying to do, right?  After all this bloody time, here was some unnatural, useless attempt to make amends.  He’d warned Mik and Nick.  He’d told them there was no possible scenario, no way that Emre could ever ever make amends with the pair of them.  And they hated him for that truth as much as they hated him for his crimes, it seemed.  Fair enough. Fuck him, fuck them too.

Except…not.  Bloody Nick.  Bloody Vin, changing the game.  Leaving Emre out here in the open, to weather Mik’s pretty, enraged smile.

Emre opted to play it straight. No games, if Emre could help it.  He felt clumsy and new, but he kept his expression bland and mild.  “No, no not missing.  North Beach Nick just opted for a lot of alone time is all.  You coming here, it’s made him more, erm, social.  Not with me.”  Definitely with him.  They hadn’t converged on North Beach as they had on South Beach, that was certain.  Even if it was all arguments and fighting.

Mik’s patronizing was like a gust of hot flames on the side of Emre’s face, and he just sat there and bloody took it.  “And he was proper club-kid,” Emre confirmed rather than snarking.  This was so fucking new. “Did you get, erm, re-aged too?”

The forge was looking good, from what Emre could tell.  He mostly left Tomas to chat with the lads about it, giving Mik wide berth and not bothering Kaz if either were at the forge.  Kaz making knives, because of course.  And Mik here, handing Emre a ripe opportunity to shank him.  He wanted to.  All his old, rotted, toxic instincts told him to shove fucking Jacob aside, break Mik’s nose on his knuckles, and then maybe drown Jacob just to make Mik witness it.  Slurs danced through Emre’s mind, insults he could scream at Mik as he bashed teeth out of that flawless smile.  

Why.  Why not. Why, though.  The waswasah in his head was gone.  Emre had sense and control now.  Tamyra knew, so did Maz.  And it was okay. He didn’t need to act like the wild animal everyone wanted - needed - him to be. He wasn’t in London, there were no mates watching his every move, hungry for a slip.  And Iyaz was gone. No one to protect, no one to reconcile. 

And Kaz was…

Emre met Mik’s sparkling eyes with his own opaque ones.  “We’re close,” he said, his mouth so dry Emre could taste salt.  He added, injecting as much irreverent drollness into his tone as he could (but there was still a slight shake that Emre hoped Mik wouldn’t pick up on).  “Kaz’d likely say different though. You know what bruv’s like.”

@akbartheolder​

Mik expected Emre to needle him some more about Nick, because that was the sort of games he'd come to expect from Emre. Poke and prod until Mik's pissed-off smile ticked over into a scuffle, and then look so pleased about it that it made Mik sick to the stomach. Funnily enough, Emre backed off, or at least sounded like he was backing off. Twisting his comment about North Beach Nick into a compliment of Mik's skill in drawing people out of their shell. Mik's eyes rapidly scanned back and forth, taking in Emre's face as he searched for duplicity, the bite to those pearly white teeth of his. There was nothing there, except mild discomfort, a tinge of sheepishness to the purposefully bland look to his face. Had Mik misread Emre? It wouldn't be the first time, it felt like there wasn't a way to correctly read Emre. "Well, what can I say," Mik said, a humble-brag to even off that conversation. "I bring out the best in people.”

Mik nodded as Emre described Vin as a proper club kid, because they had been. And it had been so glorious, but Mik had been such a shit bag. "Was he now?" Mik asked, still enjoying twisting his words at Emre. "We should have had a party," Mik commented dryly, though not cruelly. "I don't think anyone was able to escape the age-nonsense, do you?" Mik said when Emre asked. "I can't believe I got to have my twenty year old body again without a proper mirror to appreciate it," Mik complained, with a friendly half-chuckle. "I was fit-fit, yeah? High metabolism, practically lived at the gym..." Well, he worked there, and then hung out there after work, so it was nearly true. "What about you? You get to be oldman Emre?" Mik asked.

He'd gained some ideas for the forge from his time aging up, snippets of thoughts he could remember from a distant future. It was a a bit of a prick move to poke Emre at the bullseye that was he and Kaz. Mik's stomach twisted for a moment after he said it. He could see Emre's breath come faster, shorter in his chest. Mik held his ground, staring Emre down as he retested that Jacob's grip was iron strong around his arm. Mik waited for Emre to launch himself, to sneer some horrible thing that would only seal Mik's opinion of him, but it didn't come. Emre cooled visibly in front of him. When he spoke it was careful and measured, carefree with that unmistakable waver of vulnerability that Mik was intimately familiar with. Thoughts raced through Mik's head like a rogue bouncy ball:

Oh shit.

Is Emre actually gay? Bi, queer, questioning, whatever.

(You know, it is so cliché of the loud homophobe to be secretly queer... Fuck though, but maybe there is something to it though. Like lesbians U-hauling in a week-)

Wait, did I sort of force Emre to out himself? Does that make me the bad guy?

No, I can't be the bad guy. Emre's the bad guy, he's the big bad villain, he said so, that's how much of a villain he is. All he needs is the catchy and queer Disney song. You know, why do I even care, Emre is a fucking asshole-

-But he's just. Come. Out. To. Me.

Like, what do you even say when the guy you most hate in the world comes out to you? What if I fuck this up and he doubles down on the old homophobia and becomes more of a fucking prick?

"Oh so you are... close..." Mik finally repeated, feeling that that was definitely the wrong thing to say. "Not that it was like... obvious or anything," Mik said, hoping that would reassure Emre's... tender grasp on homosexuality? Not that being close meant that they were like, full on fucking. No, no thoughts of Kaz and Emre fucking in his head, thank you very much. God he had to tell Nick about this- "Kaz is a good man, yeah? He'd probably have about a dozen quips thought up to destroy me and change the subject," Mik offered, giving Emre a hopeful smile.

[stranded-mik]

nickalphonsus​:

Evidently, Vin had gotten it wrong, not a little wrong, very wrong. Unless the bravado was all chatter which it very well could be. Mik was looking at him as if Vin was the very scourge of the earth. A wanton plague that if he dared to get too close to then, he too would succumb. Vin shrugged, “pretty sure civil partnerships are a thing but, y’know whatever. Pedantic details honey! I don’t care no-one is ever putting a ring on my finger. Girl or boy, or neither.” Vin tilted their chin upwards, trying not to disappear under Mik’s haughty stare. Maybe they’d misremembered him. It wasn’t like they’d ever really talked at school, but he’d seemed like a decent guy. The kind that just fell into that crowd.

Besides literally two seconds ago Mik had been fine with everything, he’d been positively radiant to Vin’s touch. So what the fuck had changed? Because out came the usual spiel as if Mik was chundering between rounds of sambuca. “Normal? Fucking hell! Yeah where’s your bloody polo shirt? Jesus fuck being normal, boring, at least I’m interesting sweetie. God can forgive a little faggotry when you do it in style.” There was no way in hell they were going to cower to Mik, just because he was puffing out his chest like a peacock. “Y’know I thought you were sooooo fucking cool, or at least maybe nice? But you’re just as shitty as the rest of them, huh? Golden boy Mik just another prick who can’t get his dick wet.”

“Shame ‘cause you’re hot as shit, I’d fuck that tight little virgin hole of yours but fuck, no! Straight boys who have their knickers in a twist because the prostrate is in the ass are NOT my problem. Also just F-Y-I the door…that’s how you get the hell out of here, is over there. Y’know just incase you need it.” Ugh, fucking hell, they weren’t supposed to be stepping their foot in it. They’d wanted one of those fancy little smoothies with a knitted hat, but now they needed something stronger. “Ugh, fuck off or get me a fag, do something useful, will you?”

Civil partnerships? Now that definitely sounded gay. Mik scoffed and rolled his eyes, trying to hide how unsettled he was by Vin's intense stare. He had the height advantage, there was nothing to be intimidated by.

Vin sneered 'normal' like it was a slur, bleach that leeched the colour out of everything. Mik kept his arms crossed tight across his chest as Vin went on, and on. Obnoxiously, outrageously camp and proud. It made Mik so mad. Vin thought they were better than him because... what? He dressed like a radioactive spill in fishnets and spikes? Why did they have to be so loud about it? What gave them the right to be so ostentatious and comfortable? "I'd rather be normal than a freak like you," Mik hissed, fizzing with hormone-heightened emotions. "At least people actually like me. At least I have friends who would tell me that I look like some shitty circus clown. I don't even know who the fuck you are, maybe I just like, deleted the fucking weirdo from my memories."

"Just an F-Y-I, I'm not some pussy virgin like you," Mik sniped at Vin, his crowning achievement of Year 11. But it would definitely be lame to boast about how Ruby Woodard gave him a blowjob in the changing rooms when he was supposed to be resting a sore hamstring. "You know what, I am a nice guy." That's why he wasn't throttling Vin right here and now. That and... he didn't really beat people up. Even when Vin made his blood boil from toxic, sickly sticky  jealous-anger. "Maybe you should go see someone," he said, as if there was something wrong with Vin in their head. All condescending slow, over-enunciation of words.

[stranded-mik]

akbartheolder​:

¯\_(ツ)_/¯​

It was funny.  It was hilarious in that angry, unamused, perfectly mirthless sort of funny, where you wanted to laugh at the situation, rather than any camaraderie.  Mik and Emre unintentionally making eye contact as Jacob snored, and Emre wanted to smile, especially when Mik made an incredulous noise akin to a chortle. Of sorts.  Mik looked away before Emre could determine, and it took all his willpower not to duck lower, try to catch that hidden expression on Mik’s soft face.  Playfully, like they were ‘in this together’.

They weren’t, of course.  They were very separate, and the only thing holding them together was bloody Jacob.  Emre could get up and leave, if he wanted.  It was Mik trapped under Jacob’s deadweight (mans slept like a passed-out 6-year old after too many fairy cakes) and Mik could technically take over splashing Jacob’s leg.

But Emre didn’t leave.  He continued splashing, like he was a medic on the front lines and this was the only thing keeping Jacob alive.

A sticky desperation crawled up into Emre’s throat, but he swallowed it down when Mik responded with suspicion, then confusion.

“Nick is small, but not in talk,”  Emre negotiated, in a non-committal way. “Bruv can chat up a storm.  Well…used to.”  Before Meridium.  One could argue, before a very pissed Emre Akbar caught him in London.

“Haven’t seen him about.  He was like this in North Beach too innit.  Disappear for days sometimes. But with you here now on, erm, South Beach I thought…”  Emre shook his head.  It didn’t matter what he thought, about Nick-and-Mik.  He recalibrated, now petting at Jacob’s leg like it was a lap dog.  “Erm, when the island made us all different ages, Nick and I met up.  Reckon he told you about it already; called himself Vin, like.  V-I-N.  Not sure why Vin.”  Emre was rambling, an exceptionally unnatural trait for him, but he didn’t really care. Mik was throwing him another bone anyway.

“Farm’s booming.  New buildings going up, crops steady.  How’s the forge?  You and Kaz making forks and spoons yet?”

@akbartheolder​

Emre talked like he knew Nick, that he knew that Nick was chatty, well, that he used to be. The casual way he talked about Nick drove Mik mad. The twist of the knife was a casual mention of North Beach. Time that only Emre and Nick had together. And then he had to go an insinuate that he thought Nick would behave differently with Mik here. Mik soured on that thought, the taste in his mouth awfully like jealousy. Except Mik didn't get jealous, not with Nick, certainly not about Emre. There was nothing there. The only thing that was there was the days that Emre tortured Nick, and their weird rivalry upon washing up on the island. Okay, there had been the fakes, but that was nothing more than the island fucking with him. Maybe it was to do with Emre's punchable face.

Mik was determined not to let on how much he hated Emre in that moment, not to let him win. So he smiled, settling into an old, amicable armour of pleasantries and brilliant white teeth. "I don't quite get what you mean," he said, scrunching his eyebrows up just so. "Disappear?" he repeated, with a canned, disbelieving chuckle. "He's not gone missing, yeah?" He was just enjoying his time skulking off, avoiding Mik's excited bubbling about their wedding, and smoking cigarettes and hoping that Mik wouldn't notice that he stank of smoke. "I think you're a tad dramatic there, mate. I mean, there's no reason he would actively seek out your company, is there?" Mik asked, tilting his head to the side like a questioning puppy.

"You know, he did talk about meeting you as Vin," Mik said patronisingly, as if he were congratulating Emre for tying his shoes. "He said you were a proper rude boy, yeah? Got up to some Indiana Jones hijinks." Mik waved off the story as if it was inconsequential. Jabber to pass the time. Avoiding the dread comparison of how pre-queer awakening, ratshit fifteen year old Mik had handled meeting Vin.

"Forge is going good," Mik said, despite the fact that he'd been letting his Hot and Hard commitment slip. It was hard forging things when the forge was a state of the art smithery one minute, and then a patch of jungle the next. Though he did have some residual memories from a future time, knowledge he'd like to put more to the test. "Kaz is working on a knife," Mik said, giving Emre a quick once over. "You and Kaz..." he trailed off, shrugging his shoulder. "You're... close, yeah," he said, putting as much camp insinuation into that close as he could. Was he trying to bait Emre into being a homophobic twat? Maybe. But he had seen Kaz and Emre hanging out together, always from a distance. Hey, if Emre was going to needle at his insecurities, best Mik could do was return like for like.

[stranded-mik]

nickalphonsus​:

And a big queer. Well, Vin could work with that as if it wasn’t already obvious in the way Mik was devouring them with his gaze. His hands. Vin was utterly tempted, and almost certainly going to climb right into his lap. Because why not? When given the opportunity to ride a handsome man into oblivion, it was rude to refuse. Although Vin had a sinking suspicion that Mik flew the other way. Naughty boy, and all. It was all going so well, until a flip switched in Mik. There was no other way to describe it. The teasing, the flirting, dropped, and for a moment he looked onwards blankly. Maybe it was a moment of self doubt, but all the warmth leeched out of Mik. Maybe he looked a little different? Vin attempted to rub the raging ache out of their temples, but it was fruitless.

In return, Vin got the full brunt of adolescent youth, and stupidity. They blinked, and leaned forwards against the table as Mik jumped up like he’d been shocked. “Sweetie you were the one who has a Nick. Your fiancé?” Though up until five minutes ago Mik had been utterly willing to fool around, evidently not strictly committed. Vin couldn’t blame him. They would rather die than be caught having a boyfriend, or a girlfriend. God to think. “Well never mind. If you don’t want to fuck around I’m not going to make you!” Vin slipped free of the table, peering in and around an array of boxes underneath. Odd bits and pieces held within. “I mean…I’m not the one not wearing a wedding ring and hitting on strangers, y’know.”

Vin fumbled for their phone, but they had nothing on them. “Ughhh…wait babes.” Just a touch too much of a twang on that, Vin would be the first to admit they were slipping lately with the posh grammar boy impression. “Mik. Y’know it’s no big deal, I can wait—I guess you might not really recognise me huh?” Though the buzz cut wasn’t all that far off the short hair they’d sported all through school. Maybe the rest was…well, different. “Just can’t believe you’re queer.”  Would it be too much to admit a teenage boyhood crush? Probably. “You were the it boy! So wild. So, tell me more about your lucky boy, huh? I want to know all your dirty little secrets Mik.”

@nickalphonsus​

tw: homophobic language

Mik didn't like being shirtless in front of Vin, it made him feel vulnerable, like Vin had cyborg eyes and could see right through to his skeleton. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, frowning a storm at Vin, careful to keep his distance. Vin was entirely too friendly, too knowing. It made his skin crawl. Mik decided to bolster his confusion with bravado, see if that would aid him here. "You having a laugh mate?" Mik asked Vin with an arrogant jut of his chin, about him having a Nick. He didn't even know a Nick, well, not really know. There were Nicks at school, he guessed, but it wasn't like he was out snogging them. And a fiancé too. "Gays can't even get married," he sneered, though that didn't make him feel any better. His fingers dug uncomfortably into his biceps. Where the hell was his rugby shirt?

Vin, reached around in his pockets, maybe he was looking for a smoke? Or a phone, he looked like a twat who'd have a flip phone, all bedazzled with a thousand charms. Mik was saving up for a Nokia brick; he was sick of missing his mates' invitations to parties. Mik wished he had one now, so he could call a cab and get the hell away from Vin, who wanted to know if Mik recognised him. "Why the hell would I recognise you?" Mik asked derisively, with a pointed look up and down at Vin's... costume. "I think I would remember you," he scoffed.

Vin called him a queer, and Mik flinched, blood racing to his head as Vin cooed and asked after his lucky boy, his dirty little secrets. "I already told you!" Mik shouted, defensive and mad. "I'm not a fucking queer!" he hissed, relishing the fact that he could tower over Vin. (Thank you last summer's growth spurt.) "I'm a normal guy, I'm not... prancing around like a science fiction faggot. I don’t have any dirty little secrets, you creep. Why don't you just leave me alone? Or... tell me how the hell I can get out of here."

[stranded-mik]

akbartheolder​:

@stranded-mik​

Mik worked miracles.  Emre watched his butter-smooth charm, soothing Jacob into placidness.  Emre was happy to play the role of the tempestuous brute, if it meant Mik could swoop in like a pillowy angel, and cajole Jacob to the water.  Stupid tosser, Jacob.  Emre had half a mind to drown Jacob the moment they got into the ocean.  

Emre wisely kept his mouth shut, but nodded in a conciliatory way about the jellyfish.  Freezing them!  It sounded easy enough in theory, and it was a bloody good idea of Mik’s. (Why Jacob couldn’t just bloody keep the jellies away from him with his own water-magic, Emre only peevishly asked in his mind…and maybe muttered under his breath as well.  In Urdu, of course; because no one here understood him.)

On three, Emre worked in tandem with Mik again, grunting and wheezing from the effort through tightly clenched teeth - but this time Jacob was cooperative, and hopped along as Mik and Emre carefully set the pace.  All Emre could see through his sweat and wet hair was the ocean ahead. He could feel it.  He could also feel his own anxiousness rising, of freezing jellyfish on command.  His ice-magic was hit-or-miss, despite all of Emre’s practicing, and learning.  But things had shifted, since the tsunami.  Maybe he could.  Maybe he would.

By the time they got into the waves, Emre nearly collapsed in gratitude as Jacob made an ungainly splash.  Together, the trio sat in the shoreline shallows, waves lapping softly around them.

“Freeze the jellyfish!  Freeze them!”  Jacob yelped, clinging to Mik like a frightened girlfriend.  Emre concentrated on the water.  But -

“They’s gone, mate,” Emre finally judged, then met Mik’s eyes.  A startle, at the brief flash of what seemed like brimstone, in Mik’s usually warm, twinkling eyes. Quickly chased by that heart-in-throat flutter of excitement.  Was it a trick of the light, or did Emre see a grimy abhorrence in Mik’s pure affability?  Hot-faced, Emre tore his own gaze away, and began splashing water over Jacob’s leg.  Jacob sagged against Mik, and looked faint but happy.  

“It’s helping,” Emre whispered to Mik, after a couple minutes.  “I reckon - “

But Emre was cut off by a long snore from Jacob.  

He stared in disbelief, then looked at Mik again once Jacob stopped.  “Oi Mik, man. Right, I just wanted…”  Emre just wanted what?  He was at a loss.  So he opted for their one common thread, tenuous and volatile as it was.  “Nick doing alright?”

@akbartheolder​

Teamwork makes the dream work, wasn't that one of Mik's sayings? It felt saccharine right now, as he and Emre worked together to get Jacob into the ocean. Mik's trackies were soaked in seconds, but Jacob kept clinging to him, keeping him in place. Mik sighed and sank to his knees, let Emre do the work of making sure the ocean surf was washing over Jacob's legs.

There were no jellyfish, and the water was so soothing to Jacob that he conked right out, holding onto Mik like a little kid. Mik caught Emre's eyes as Jacob snored, and it was funny. It was hilarious that they rushed about Jacob, got him into the water only for him to pass out, but Mik wasn't supposed to find it funny. There wasn't space for him and Emre to laugh, but he did it anyway, a short, sharp chuckle that he diffused by looking swiftly away.

There was too much bad blood between them to let humour squeeze its way through. As if reminding Mik, Emre just had to go there, and ask him about Nick. "Was that a threat?" he asked, defensive and unsure. What the hell were they? "Or is this like, your version of small talk? Not that Nick is..." small talk. The jokes wrote themselves, but jokes weren't allowed. Last time he bonded with Emre, Hack-bar gave Mik pre-PTSD from butchering by talking about breaking chicken legs.

Mik sighed, and gave Emre a shrug. "Nick's good, yeah. Why wouldn't he be good? How's the farm?" he asked in return, in lieu of Jacob pulling on Mik's arm to give him a right snuggle.

[stranded-mik]

nickalphonsus​:

Vin pouted, again, a little huff at hearing the air con being broken. They could already feel the make-up melting off of their face. Macho Mik probably didn’t have any wipes stashed away so he could feel clean and free again. Vin spied a bucket and cloth in the corner. Except Mik was already eyeing them up with suspicion anyway, so probably best not to. Maybe they just needed to butter him up first. Maybe not too difficult? Mik seemed to be eyeing him with caution mixed with interest. Though, if Vin recalled right he’d just talking about getting married. Which really would be an absolute total waste.

“Nicholas? Nooo not really, I guess it’s a nice name. Think I’ll stick with Vin for now, sweetie. Wait–-your fiancé is called Nick? Little weird don’t you think wanting me to share his name. Are you a naughty boy Mik?” Maybe not a total waste after all. Nick could have his fiancé if that’s what he wanted, and Vin could have a little fun for one night. Where was the harm in that? Mik was a grown man, he could make his own decisions. Vin bit down on their bottom lip, slinking to a stand to come about the table that was otherwise dividing them.

“Soo…the great Mik really was a little camp after all.” Vin didn’t leave much to guess for as they looked him up and down, slowly, soaking in ever last little detail. Mik hadn’t changed much, not really, maybe gotten a little broader, a little more handsome with age, but now Vin could appreciate those darling dark puppy eyes properly. No longer hidden behind the mandatory tint of queer bashing that was necessary to survive school, and had kept them both very much not in the same circle of friends.

Vin giggled as they came to sit on the bench beside Mik, finally capturing a downward glance at the outfit they themself were sporting. Last night’s mesh and heeled boots, Vin unzipped the pair and discarded them to cosy up to him. “You there last night? You don’t even look like you’re hanging! Positively rosy, can’t be having that can we. Sure we can find a way to tire you out, if your little Nick doesn’t mind?” Vin purred right back, one hand on Mik’s knee, well, when in Rome.

@nickalphonsus​

Mik couldn't help but smile as Nic-Vin pointed out how weird it was to suggest his fiance's name, and then in the same breath call him naughty. He leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the pure energy that Vin was giving him, even if they looked like they'd just come back from a night out. "Hey, it's a good name, what can I say," Mik said, another humble brag. He'd been the one to suggest it to Nick in the first place, after all.

And hey, Mik still had it, enough pull to get Vin to give him a look over that made a shiver trail down his back. "Maybe I'm a naughty boy," Mik teased Vin back, leaning forward now as he pawed at Vin. "And a big queer." Though he would have never said so, back when Vin would have thought of him as the great Mik.

Because he wasn't queer. Mik wasn’t a gay. He wasn’t. 

Boys could tell when other boys were fit, wasn't it? It wasn't gay to look in the mirror and know that you suited that polo shirt. It wasn't gay to go hard on strength and conditioning days because you wanted to get your quads to pop like Tony Elliott, who had the most muscular thighs on the team. It wasn’t gay to get a thrill crowding around Darren's locker, pressing close to everyone as Darren showed off the magazine he'd managed to nab from his dad's Escort collection. Mik wasn't gay, and he definitely did not want to have anything to do with the person who screamed queer who sat themselves next to him.

"N-No, no... no," Mik stuttered out as Vin placed their hand on his knee, well he wasn't going to have any of that! Mik shoved their hand away and wheeled out of his chair, shaking his head rapidly back and forth. "None of that now, mate. I... You must be confused, right, cause I wouldn't..." he wouldn't be the sort of person that someone like Vin would want to tire out. Mik didn't want that, obviously. "I think you must be confused, yeah? I ain’t your little Nicky, yeah? I don’t...” He gestured to Vin. 

[stranded-mik]

nickalphonsus​:

Vin giggled, “oh my freaking god! MIK!” They didn’t know how they’d gotten here but that wasn’t the point. Mik was here! Probably just one bender of a night, and god, who wouldn’t want that with Mik. The one survivor of school that they couldn’t ever forget. Vin canted their head with a pout. “Boo you planning a wedding?” Really, he shouldn’t be surprised, Mik had been the it boy. Though that did beg the question why Mik had put out this spread for him, but well they weren’t going to say no to free food.

“Ugh, I haaaate how hot it is? Can’t we turn on the air con, wait actually where are we? I don’t remember jack shit but I do remember you.” Vin winked, little tongue in cheek as they slipped out of their seat. Examine the house they were in, which was really no more than a shack, quaint maybe. To some people. Vin shuddered at the thought that the walls with holes through to the ocean wouldn’t offer much protection against bugs. “By the way, just so you know I go by Vin now.” Probably best to get that out of the way. “Still figuring that name out though so I’m open to suggestions if you have them sweetie. Anyway…”

@nickalphonsus​

Mik's porridge fell out of his spoon, splatting into raw oats and milk as he stared at the person in front of him. They were Nick, but much, much younger. And clad in a get-up fit for a night of raving, exaggerated eyeliner, punk-esque black leather harness with neon green spikes, a healthy dose of mesh. They were Nick before they'd reconnected, blurry 00s phone camera snaps that Mik delighted in teasing Nick over.

They were Nick, but seemingly without any memories. "Okaaaaay..." Mik said cautiously, anxiety squeezing his heart at this latest development. So not only could the world change around them, but they could change too. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. "Hey it's good to see you, Vin," Mik said, slipping into an easy smile. Nick remembered him, well, Vin remembered him, at least. Mik must look good for his age if Vin didn't comment on it.

"Air con's broken, sorry," Mik said, deciding that there was no need to necessarily give Vin a run down on the whole island nonsense thing just yet. Was Nick going to stay as Vin for a while? Should he tell him everything? There was a lot to cover. And it was kind of nice, meeting this younger version of Nick. Rowdy and free, unrestrained. Maybe he could go along with it, just for a few moments.

Vin was trying out names, apparently. Mik smiled, nostalgic at the memory. Nick must have changed his name around twenty times before finally settling on Nick, the best name for him. "Have you thought about Nicholas?" Mik asked Vin, tilting his head to the side. "It means victory, I think." Not like Nick would let him forget it.

"That's my fiancé's name. He goes by Nick," Mik said with a humble-brag shrug. "What have you gotten up to after leaving school, then? I got to say, I love this look on you," Mik purred, putting a little extra camp-twang on his praise.

[stranded-mik]

@nickalphonsus​

"There is one thing we've been avoiding," Mik said, looking over to Nick. It was nice to have breakfast in a proper house, since their ruined-shack had decided to shift to being a little renovated cabin for them this morning. By lunch it could be a bundle of sticks again, or just plain, clean sand. Mik took what he could, including trying to time his bites so that the porridge in front of him was warm and cooked.

"The wedding dance," Mik finally said, putting Nick out of his misery. "Like, do you want to have a cheesy slowdance moment? Or should we just get the tunes going and dance like we're in our twenties?"

[panrpgpromos]

location: the low tide path @stranded-mik​

Joaquin perched on the rocks of the shore, dancing back whenever the landscape shifted around him without warning, and made the path overflow with water.  But his full focus - aside from not getting wet - was further out to see.  The mysterious Fisher’s Hut.  A location Joaquin had never been to, and had no intention of visiting.  A house in the middle of all that water, no thank you.  Joaquin was perfectly happy on land.

But the hut itself, unlike much of the island (including the tomato that Joaquin held in his hand, that kept flipping from green and hard, to mushy and fetid-overripe), had seemed to change once and stay like that for longer than usual.  And people bustled down the low tide path when it was dry, then returned with friends.  All of them crowding into that awful little hut with glee on their faces.

Why?

Joaquin wondered if he should be worried.  And when he finally saw someone he could talk to, with relief Sisco flagged dear Mik down.  “Halloooo, Mik!  It’s me, Sisco,”  the old monk greeted cheerfully, as if Mik didn’t know.  “Dear son, I have a question, about…”  

Sisco pointed, just as a loud raucous cheer burst from the Hut, so loud even they could hear it on the shore.  “…that.  What do you think is happening in there?  People have been visiting it more than usual.”

[stranded-mik]

@manojoaquin​

Mik smiled as he saw Joaquin waving to him, altering his path so he could come on up to his friend. "Hey, man." Mik grinned, giving Sisco a friendly clap on the shoulder as he caught his breath. The only thing he could reliably do on the island at the moment was his morning jog, as long as he kept his eyes out his footing. "I've been meaning to see you!" Joaquin was going to become one of his best men, after all.

But it was only right to hear out what Sisco had a question about first. Mik followed Joaquin's finger, to the lonely hut perched out along the natural pier. Now that he wasn't running, he could hear the sounds more clearly now. Cheers, boos, and spine-tingling ding-ding-dings, coins clattering, wheels spinning- "It... It sounds like..." Mik trailed off, his smile a tad confused. "It's crazy, but it sounds like a casino."

"Come on," Mik said, stalking forward towards the hut. "Don't you want to see what's going on in there?"

[stranded-mik]

@alexlwoo

Mik ran along the beach, as fast and as he could, arms flailing at his sides as he enjoyed the pure joy of pushing his body. Seeing how fast he could go. He loved looking out the window of a bus and imagining a cheetah running alongside. He looked to his side now, and he was running as fast as a cheetah, he was so fast!

He couldn't remember how he ended up on an island, but that didn't worry him too much. Mum had talked of going on a vacation to the Philipines so much that the blanks filled themselves in neatly. Island paradise, golden sand and salty spray. And the water! He was going to swim in it this afternoon, maybe he could find a surfboard? He'd always wanted to try surfing.

Mik's sprinting petered out, he slowed down to a jog and gulped in air, his limbs shivering with excitement after that little exertion of energy. He hoped the resort had a buffet, he wanted chicken inasal for dinner, oh and maybe the buffet had an endless soft serve machine! "Hey!" he called out as he ran up to someone, bored of running by himself. "My name’s Mik and I was wondering if you would want to race me running down the beach?"  

[stranded-mik]

kazxraval​:

His eyes darted briefly to the heavy hand on his shoulder. “Wait, when were they not allowed to be slutty? I missed that memo.” And guessed the movie was more fluff. Not anything like the guys who lazily grinded around poles at the gay bars in their Y-fronts. Which had never been Kaz’s thing to begin with. 

Mik also had an explanation for Love Island. “Ok, so.” A few questions. His tongue clicked behind his teeth. “Was there not one for queer people? Nah, that’s no good. And what’s to stop them from pairing up and playing it up for the cameras? Like, hooking up for the money. Do they show them hooking up, actually? When I hear about what I’ve missed, I realize I haven’t missed jack shit.” Not that it mattered other than to pass the time. “Who you think’s gonna win the prize here then?”

I think about the people we left behind… “Yeah,” Kaz absent and noncommittal. Mik seemed less interested in the topic compared to his name. His gaze followed a hand. As he brought it to Kaz’s attention, no. He didn’t look like a Mickey. "Not a bad song, could play it at the wedding.” A fast flash of teeth before the smile dropped. “So I can’t call you Magic Mike, after you just told me all about it? Alright. Fair.” 

And, yes. Kaz’s favorite past time was harshing the vibe. That bodes well, and Kaz nodded. “Hey, just saying,” as if he gave the most common advice, like don’t lose your wedding ring on the big day, or something like it. “However– I agree. If this is it, then. Gotta live this life. Can’t be hiding from shit around here. Not when everything could be over tomorrow.” If so, then so it goes. Hell, Kaz would be grateful for a permanent rest. Although most certain he’d have the final word on it himself.

Mik’s ask was a bit stickier. Wait, when did he name it BeachFit? “Why is the gym on hiatus?” With a questioning look he asked, “Would I be the perfect best man?” In the history of sentences, he was certain that one had never been uttered. He was no expert, but felt if Mik wanted the little piggies in the pen at his wedding, it was fine. They’re on a damn island. Like, who’d give a fuck? “Don’t think tradition has to be followed here, Mik.”

Kaz noticed the look. Don’t make me beg. A lopsided grin, followed by a low open mouthed drawled out laugh. “Why? I love begging, eat it right up.” A sneaking suspicion crept in: there were no other “”grooms-buds””. A term he hoped never to hear again. Mik was essentially asking a co-worker to fill the spot. Blackmail or pity, he didn’t know what it was. So. Fuck it. “I don’t own a shirt.” Lies, he did own a shirt. “I’m not wearing one either. If a better option comes along, I won’t mind.” 

His head shook slow. “Feels like a sort of limbo. Not getting worse.” Kaz spent his nights alone. He did anyway, always. The crush of voices on his skull dealt with by himself. Which for Kaz was the best way. “Not getting better. But. Dunno. Around certain people, they stop.” Kaz knew not to grow to rely on it. 

His shoulders shrugged. “Cut the positive. Nothing positive about it, yeah?” Nothing Kaz could see. “No one wants to feel this way. Just, fuck him senseless. Into oblivion, until he can’t think of anything but you, until he falls asleep.” Might sound like obvious advice from Kaz. Ha, he’d be happy to take it himself. “Distract. Can’t rationalize with what’s not rational, can you? Or I can’t anyway.” Thankfully no one provided the cheery blue skies outlook to Kaz, at night. He’d do them in for sure. 

Whether Luis had the right reaction towards Kaz– well, no. He didn’t. And Kaz chose to be pissed off about it. “What I learned about the island is, it adjusts. It’s not getting the reaction it wants, so it finds another way, you know. Let’s hope it’s getting a little bored at this point.” And, anyway. “Ever heard of harm coming to anyone from fucking too much? I haven’t.” Not exactly true, but hyperbole never killed anyone at least. 

Kaz recalled the day Mik sunned on the precious rock jetty. The guy’s first day. Sometimes, Kaz had to ask himself if not-Mike, not-Mickey, but Mik was still trapped in this unknown, unaware bliss. He laid a weighty hand on Mik’s shoulder. “Talk about your wedding too.” Or… whatever the hell they’re gonna talk about. “But yeah. Just fuck him.” 

@stranded-mik​ ​

[stranded-mik]

ameliaxdalton​:

Intentions weren’t Amelia’s strong suit. She could barely read people, nevermind some apparently all powerful island. But she did like mysteries, she did like asking why and unpacking all the maybes. In her old social circle, the answers had never been as important as how many hours you could waste debating them. “What’s the weird kid with the ant farm trying to do when he shakes it real hard?” She posited with a shrug, “it could be more about the chaos than the result.” 

Mik was very animated. To be fair, compared to most people Amelia knew she tended to be a bit more reserved in that sense, but quiet and small and still had always been the safest way, and she watched Mik dance about now, wondering if she’d ever feel that comfortable in her skin. He barrelled on ahead with his reasoning, and she was about to say she appreciated his honestly, but then laughter came out of her mouth before she could figure out any of the words.

Coming on to her? Did he think she’d think that? Why would she think that? Did Mik have a reputation for flirting with half delirious women whilst helping clear out their dead plant life? “I’m sorry, I-” Amelia put her hand over her mouth, trying to swallow back whatever giggles were still trying to get out. “I’m not laughing at you- just– that definitly didn’t occur to me. You are the second person to bring that sort of thing up to me recently though, and it’s bizzaire, because like, I haven’t had a single thought about all that since I washed up. Is this all people talk about out here? Home makeovers and sex?”

@stranded-mik​​

What's the kid with the ant farm trying to do? "They just want to see what the ants do," Mik said, a simple statement that made the resulting chaos he'd experienced over his time of the island click into place. As a carefully construed plan, nothing on this island made sense. But as a sadistic, random exertion of power to simply see how the dice landed. Well... "You know, you're the only person who's made sense of this whole island nonsense to me." An overstatement, possibly, but Mik loved to hand out compliments.

At least he hadn't offended her, whether she thought he'd been trying to hit on her, or thought the idea was hilarious. But she was laughing, and damn but she was cute when she laughed. Most people were, even if they thought they were ugly laughers. Mik got a healthy ego boost from making her laugh. He waited a beat and then chuckled along with her. "Oh, in that case I didn't say anything, did I? Nevermind all that." Mik grinned, tilting his head to the side. Trying to act boyish and cute. Instead of a renovation-mad horn dog. "I mean, there's not much else to do out here, yeah? There's home renovation, island torments, or sex." Mik shrugged. He knew where he'd rather spend his time.

@ameliaxdalton​

[stranded-mik]

jupitergeorge​:

Jupiter gave Mik an amused, huffy laugh.  “Lord no.  I mean my little youtube show got some popularity but I’m no Oprah.  Hell, I ain’t even Gayle.  Honestly Kirk and I figured we’d just do the show for as long as the kids were interested in it, and then maybe plan an early retirement.  Meaning - just go back to working the Inn.”  She chuckled, shook her head.  “None of those dreams matter anymore, and definitely not some memoir.  That shit’s just a vanity project here.”

Jupiter nodded, and smiled.  “I still got the ghost-seeing part.  I’ve seen ghosts here, but here it’s just kinda less impressive. Everything’s fricking weird here…”  The weirdest ghost encounter.  One of those interview questions; and the answer should come easily, but Jupiter’s head was filled with recollections of those ghosts that everyone had to contend with in the Labyrinth.  The terror and confusion as Jupiter tried to assure her people that they were okay, the ghosts were troubled but not dangerous.  Then emerging onto South Beach and finding that freaky-ass Beast pretending to be people, stealing memories.  Then the dopplegangers that melted into glowy sand when their time was over.  

What the hell could compare to all of that, from back home?

But Mik wasn’t asking for reality or anything profound or disturbing; the question - meaningless and trite - was for entertainment.  Their biz.  Jupiter smiled.  “Oh!  Definitely the ghost on an old abandoned farmhouse, up in the Ontario lake country.  Get this - one of the little ghost girls apparently had a pet before she died. A two-headed goat! And the goat was also a dang ghost!!  Ohe head just seemed to giggle, the other just screamed.  Damn. Weird in life and death. We high-tailed it outta there pretty quick but our followers begged for a return, and dude.  Can you believe we were planning to return? Dude.”

A pause.  And then,  “What was the best moment as an influencer, for you?”

Mik reassured himself - and Jupiter - that it would get better.  All Jupiter could do was hum in agreement, because Mik wasn’t exactly the guy she’d come to for delving into grim and gritty.  Not because Jupiter didn’t think Mik was capable - she wouldn’t downplay his own dark moments and depth of self - but simply because she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, or feel any need to blast her with more encouraging slogans and catchphrases.  Mik’s depth was only visible to a select few, Jupiter imagined.  Maybe with time; but that was her problem as well.  Getting deep was uncomfortable. Delving was hard. It was why she missed Kirk so much; he was her bestie, her confidante, everything.

But to her surprise, Mik kept talking, about what he internalized from psychology classes in university.  She wasn’t sure he got the science of it right, and a part of her knew he’d kind of repurposed and simplyfied complex concepts into neat little biteable wellness jargon.  ‘Positive thinking’ was definitely one of those those fakey-feel-good concepts.  Big on youtube, facebook, twitter, insta, along with words like ‘self-affirming’ and ‘toxicity’ and ‘cleanse’.  Jupiter was old enough to remember ‘The Secret’, and she’d watched Going Clear.  Alarms pinged in Jupiter, but not strong enough.   

Because the sad part was that Mik didn’t just seem to believe what he was saying, but he was applying it to this extraordinary situation.  Nick was bombarded by literal negativity, and so was everyone else who’d escaped those trees. No sleep, something dangerous and painful mentally lodged in their heads…this wasn’t just some scam, it wasn’t Lord Xenu.  It was real.

So was applying some hokey New-Age psycho-babble woo-woo also more real on Meridium?  This island with dopplegangers and beasts and ghosts and magic?  

Jupiter smiled, and reached for Mik’s hand.  She fondly patted his knuckles.  “I think that’s mighty strong and brave of you, baby.  That’s what I’d like to do for my two as well - Jovi and Tamyra.  Tamyra’s good at handling things, but Jovi?  That’s my son, I can’t stand seeing him suffering from these…uh, negative thought tramline shiz.  Maybe you and me, we can come up some good strategies for, um, positive thinking?  And share what works, what doesn’t.  Look out for each other, support each other while we support our loved ones.  Like a facebook cancer caretaker group. Y’know?  Too cheesy?”

END.

[stranded-mik]

a mik kaufman moodboard 💪🏾

[stranded-mik]

akbartheolder​:

Emre met Mik’s pointed look, realizing he was frightening Jacob with chat of death. Emre returned a silent of ‘What?’ chin-jut back at him that managed to be insouciant and sheepish at the same time.  Mik didn’t know the things Jacob had done, and now wasn’t the time to explain anything.  Besides, despite Jacob’s horridness, Emre didn’t want the git to die.  But he gladly left all the nursing and kindness to Mik, who in his relative innocence had plenty to spare.

The seat carry was a disaster, and Emre looked appalled at himself.  “Soz man,” he apologized breathlessly to Mik. “I’m just - I’m messed up since the trees.”   Mik would understand.  Mik had a Nick back home, who was likely ailing the same way.  Or at least more wan and listless than the usual island-Nick. The waswasah whispered: But of course Nick got all the coddling and babying and sweet understanding, whilst Emre got the ‘buck up and man up; we got work to do.’

Emre licked his lips, retreating into his thoughts to focus.  Fortunately he could block out Jacob’s piteous moaning.  Unfortunately, now was the time for his fake’s remembance to flick back like an old film on a reel, played in first-person.  The things it told Mik.  It didn’t lie.  It told the truth, to Mik bloody Kaufman.  Of course all the bloody thing needed to do was tell a slice of truth about Emre Akbar, to horrify gentle Mik.  

Well, there was nothing to do for it now.  But it answered why Mik looked at him like that.  Emre was suddenly parched.  Maybe Jacob would like some -

“Water.  The ocean,”  Emre said suddenly to Mik.  “Our man Jacob’s a waterbaby, like me.  We put him in the water and it’ll heal him.  Slow but sure.  It’s not too far, we can help -”

“I’m not going BACK to the ocean, are you kidding?!” Jacob interrupted in protest.  “I got stung by the darn jellyfish there!”

“Well that’s because you’re a numpty, mate.  Fortunately you got me here, I’ll keep all them naughty jellyfish away from you.  Is the only way,”  Emre replied, and gave Mik another unrepentant ‘sue me’ look.  Slightly smirky.  Just slightly.

“No!  No! Let me suffer!”  Jacob tried to scramble away from Emre, who was motioning for Mik to help on Jacob’s other side.  “Leave me alone!”

“Quit your bawling or I’ll give you something to cry about.”  Emre grunted back.  “This is for your own bloody good!  Innit Mik!  Go on, tell him…”  Another silent look, this time urgent, backed up by Emre’s assurance this was going to work.  Water always worked. Waterbaby was the best.

@akbartheolder​

Mik wanted to keep Jacob on their side so the big man didn't panic and make everything worse. Emre, as he fucking would, gave Mik a chin-jut, eyes widening, motion of 'What?' that Mik could almost hear, despite it being silently done.

Emre was messed up from the trees, Mik wasn't in the best of shape, and Jacob was a hefty hunk of meat and bone who was being a bit of a baby expecting them to carry him all the way up to the doctor's hut. Mik shrugged off his apology, thankful he didn't have to be holding tight onto Emre's hands for the trek anyway, it'd save his back from being pulled out.

He'd been looking forward to legging it to go fetch Nesh, but Emre, despite himself, gave a decent suggestion for how to get Jacob on the way to recovery. Mik paused, letting Emre and Jacob bicker about the pros and cons of going into the water. It was a levelheaded, if tense spat, until Jacob tried to claw away from Emre, and Emre responded by flinging a threat at Jacob.

A cold stone dropped in Mik's stomach as he eyed up Emre, all amusement and humour vanishing from his face. He saw him for what he really was. He wasn't sure if what the dopple had said was truth, or a lie, but Mik was prone to believing what he wanted to believe, and to him Emre was the monster who tried to kill his now-fiance. Mik gave Emre a level stare, wishing he felt strong and confident in front of him. But all he could think about was his trips to Iceland in his youth to buy the whole chickens on the cheap, letting them thaw in his tiny apartment's sink and how he always shuddered and hesitated to break the bird's joins as he cut it up. Emre didn't have that sort of hesitation.

Mik snapped his fingers in front of Jacob's face, failing to see the flash of irritation that passed over his features. "Hey, hey," he soothed, waiting until he had caught Jacob's attention. "I'm not going to let him hurt you, yeah?" Mik promised, clasping Jacob's shoulder and giving him a friendly shake. "But he's right," Mik gave Emre the win, punctuated with a short glance. "You either gotta walk with us, or we get you in the water to start healing up, yeah?"

"Don't... Don't leave me alone with him." Jacob demanded, giving Emre the evils.

Bloody hell... "Let's get you into the water, yeah? Emre you can, what, freeze the jellies, yeah?" Mik asked him, shifting to Jacob's other side and pulling his arm up and around his shoulders. Who needed a barbell to have a heavy squat day? "On the count of three then? One, two... three!" Mik pushed up, blood rushing to his face as his legs struggled to carry the pure weight of Jacob. "Right, just a few steps then," Mik said through strained teeth, trying his best to synchronise his steps with Emre's.

[stranded-mik]

redriverdawn​:

The toast marked a before-and-after like the tap of a gavel, context flipped in the blink of an eye. A revitalizing warmth stolen by the stark glow of a cold night. Sae-byeok wiped her hands clean of dinner and responsibility for the turn. The latter left its stain deeper, a gross liqueur between skin and bone, born of chronic, numbing misuse. Not at all like Mik, who knew better than to poison his body with his own thoughts. 

The night’s silence kept its hands around Sae-byeok’s neck, but her mind was a constant drawn-out stutter of manipulated sounds. “If at first you don’t succeed…” she began about Mik’s glass work, but the rest of the line stopped behind a wistful grin. She explained: “There’s a song playing in my head. I wish you could hear it.” Mirinae loved that song. They watched the movie in theaters together.

She was used to this feeling. Blood, breath, and suffering. But back home, it connected Sae-byeok with millions just like her, promises made to end their national life of han in victory. Here on Meridium, she finally learned true loneliness, robbed of the fight to regain her homeland, her consolation for abandoning a child. Okay so, one… His words washed over like the sun after a storm, a guiding light when it still hurt. Sae-byeok took his hand. Better than slipping and falling. The sand shined on Mik’s skin in a way that was impossible on hers except where they connected. 

Sometimes, as he said, they should share more about their children; the sand was a better topic for right now. Sae-byeok normally didn’t need a reminder about priorities, the new effect of a scattering mind. He asked if the island could read their minds, a question with an evident answer by the journalist’s obsessive observation. “Well, Mik,” she said, settling down for once from a stir. “I don’t mean to shock you, but the Obelisk is actually a list of every bisexual on the island. Who would’ve thought?”

@stranded-mik​

END.