stykera: (side view)
Stark had suggested a celebration for Summer last night and Summer had latched on to the idea and so Stark had spent the better part of the day putting one together for her. He had a lot to live up to after the surprise he'd arranged for her birthday but this didn't have to be so elaborate. It just had to be something fun. And nice. And surprising. But there was no pressure. (Of course there was pressure. Stark nearly always felt pressure. It was just often internally provided)

Still, he'd gone out for ingredients to make dinner for a dinner recipe he was quite pleased to have found and it was nearly finished and hopefully just the right level of gross.

Dessert was totally finished and waiting to be served later, assuming dinner went well. He'd even gone out and purchased a bottle of something bubbly because that was the sort of thing you drank to celebrate.

Now he just hoped the guest of honor would show up when he expected her to. And, more importantly, that said guest of honor would enjoy her surprise.


[Expecting a certain gross ginger lady but also could be open before her!]
stykera: (mask again)
Class had presumably gone well and once things were cleaned up Stark had headed back to his apartment where, he assumed, there would still be a squirrel waiting for him. Hopefully just the one squirrel he was expecting and not any stray wildlife.

“Summer? I brought snacks back with me,” he called out as he opened the door. “Plenty of nuts to share.”

Had he said that on purpose to see if he could inspire another fit of squirrelly laughter? Maybe he had.

“Are you back to yourself yet? Or still a squirrel?”

He stopped in the kitchen to put down the food he’d brought back before heading to the living room to look for his temporary resident squirrel. There were plenty of blankets lying around to make cozy squirrel nests in. Not quite as many blankets as there were in the bedroom but he didn’t think she would be in there. He’d find her soon enough. The apartment really wasn’t that all that large.

[For that ginger squirrel!]
stykera: (hmm)
Stark had gotten back to the island after yesterday's space emergency only somewhat worse for wear. He'd only gotten shot a little, as he kept telling people.

Once he was back in his apartment, arm still in its sling, he'd called and asked Travis to come over. Now he was just waiting.

Perhaps he should have mentioned that he'd been injured. Perhaps he should have mentioned that he'd run off to space yesterday. Choices had been made.


[The pretty firefighter is expected but could be open to others before his arrival!]
stykera: (not looking at you)
Stark was still settling back in here. Things still felt odd (he still felt odd) but he was trying to work through that.

Today's attempt at ignoring odd feelings involved cleaning. His apartment was usually kept very clean. He liked it that way, liked that he could keep it that way. Since mid-January, however, he'd cared much less about that, and then he'd been gone for a few weeks and now there were certainly things that needed to be done.

Today he was starting in the kitchen. The fridge was questionable at best, right now.

[Expecting one but there is literally nothing to stop someone else from knocking on a door. I will be slow as always though because work remains a shitshow.]
stykera: (sad)
It had been weeks now since Faye had blindsided Stark with the news she was leaving. He was still hurt. He was still confused. He was still, on the very rare occasions when he allowed himself to admit it, angry. Nothing was helping, not even his friends, though at least they’d tried. They had tried. He had tried. He was still trying. It wasn’t enough. Winter had always been difficult for Stark. This was the worst one yet though it had started off so well. Or he’d thought it had. He’d thought a lot of things at the beginning of the year that were no longer true. Maybe they never had been. He was doubting everything now.

There had been no word from her since she walked out. He wanted to know that she was alright, if nothing else. He would still be hurt and he would still be confused but at least he wouldn’t be so worried. And if he knew she was alright that would mean she cared at least enough to let him know and that would help the hurt and the anger, a little. But she hadn’t let him know anything and he was unwilling to try and reach out himself. He was absolutely certain he wouldn’t be able to handle it if he couldn’t reach her or if she refused to speak with him if he did manage to make contact. He was making another, long overdue, call today instead.

Or he would be once he was done pacing inside his apartment. He’d done that so often lately. Pacing, talking to himself, other old habits that had mostly fallen away in recent months were all making a return. He had his comms out, twirling the bit of metal in his fingers as he walked, trying to work up the nerve to actually try and contact the ship. Finally, annoyed at himself, he sighed heavily and tried to make a connection.

Banik phone home? )

Stark had his phone out trying for a portal as soon as he disconnected. He could get to one of the moons in the Hynerian system if he left within the hour. That was fine. Leaving now was fine. Leaving now meant avoiding parties and Three Minute Dates and everything about Monday. There was no reason to wait. Not really. He wasn’t needed here. He wasn’t needed anywhere. That had been made far too clear.

He wrote a short text after booking the portal, sent to a few friends.


Going back to Moya.
I’ll try to come back. When things are better.
When I’m better.

I’m sorry.



He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for leaving, for his current state, for not telling anyone in person, or a combination of all of those things. Apologizing just felt necessary.


[Can be open to respond to the text or try and catch him before he catches his portal. If you think you should have gotten one of those texts and didn't, feel free. Stark’s going away while I try and hopefully figure out how to get him to be functional again instead of just hurt and sad and broken forever.]
stykera: (a little unhappy)
Faye was still a bird. Stark was still himself and still trying, and occasionally succeeding, to not be upset about that fact. But it had been nearly a week now and she was still a large bird rather than herself and that was distressing.

"We should go outside," he said. Of course he talked to her. He didn't get responses other than the occasional "frarnk" or flapping of wings but he had talked to her consistently since Boston. Talking to a bird was better than staring silently at a bird.

"I'll get coffee," he said, standing up from the couch where he'd been sulking sitting. "Or food. You could fish again, if you like. Or get into fights with a flamingo. Or...I don't know. Bird things." Bird things that hopefully didn't include flying away.


[For someone who will hopefully return to her usual leggy self soon!]
stykera: (in profile)
It had been an odd weekend. Odd in a better way, or at least a less painful one, than last weekend had been but still odd. This weekend hadn't involved any barfights or subsequent trips to the pond, for one thing. It had just mostly involved watching out for a much younger than usual friend while Faye tended to Grogu, and then meeting a very unusual version of Din.

Stark had left Liam asleep and curled up on the couch last night, eventually. Maybe the frappucino hadn't been the wisest choice but Stark was inclined to indulge children, especially temporary ones, when he was able to do so.

He was hoping that Liam would be back to his usual self this morning. These things usually ended with the weekend but not always. If Liam was still a tinier version of himself Stark would deal with that. He was fairly certain Liam would do the same for him if the situation had been reversed.

"Liam?" he called out softly as he walked out of his bedroom.


[For the no-longer-tiny guy on the couch! If you have a reason to also show up? Go for it.]
stykera: (oh no oh no)
Stark had been very tired after last night. Tired enough not to notice when his companion had slipped away uncharacteristically early this morning. He was always the first awake between the two of them. For Faye to be awake and the first one up and moving was unheard of but it had apparently happened today. It was strange, but not concerning. Much stranger things had happened.

Still it was odd and required investigation. Maybe she'd been hungry or in search of coffee. But there weren't any noises coming from the kitchen or from anywhere else in the apartment. And when he walked out of his bedroom there were no other signs of her anywhere, even when he called out her name.

Maybe, he thought, she'd gone next door for something. He was still unconcerned when he reached the kitchen. He could make breakfast. She liked breakfast. And maybe over breakfast they could actually talk. There had been very little opportunity for talking last night. But there wasn't going to be breakfast and there wasn't going to be any talking because in the kitchen there was a note.

He picked up the note and read it. Read it again. And again.

"No. No no no no no! Faye!" She wasn't here. He knew that. Calling her name wasn't going to do any good. That didn't stop him.

He was still repeating "no" to himself when he ran back into the bedroom for clothes and when he stopped to put on shoes and when he returned to the kitchen to pick the note up once more. Saying no hadn't changed anything yet but he couldn't seem to stop.

Note still clutched in his hand, Stark headed out the door. He'd go to the junkyard first. Maybe she wasn't gone yet. Maybe she hadn't really left. Maybe he wasn't too late.

[Establishy unless you really want it not to be! And omg work is RIDICULOUS today]
stykera: (just sit with me)
The subject of dates, specifically dates with Faye, had come up in multiple conversations for Stark this week. He’d spent a bit of time considering ideas for future excursions as a result. He wouldn’t mind another space trip, certainly. The mainland was an option. Something here on the island. There were restaurants neither one of them had ever been to here. There were plenty of things they could do.

For the moment though, Stark was content for the two of them to be here in his apartment. Going out could be wonderful but staying in made him just as happy. Having food delivered was sometimes preferable to eating somewhere else and that was his plan for today. It wasn't much of a plan, really, but that was fine.

Sometimes it was better not to have any sort of audience. Faye was much cuddlier in private. They both were. Sitting on his couch without anyone else around made it easier to be as affectionate as Stark wanted to be.


[For the favorite neighbor. No, not you, Liam.]
stykera: (let me hold you)
It was morning, again. Stark was trying not to think about what that meant. There was a time limit here. Only hours left, now, and then he would lose Zhaan again. He didn’t mean to sigh so loudly when that thought struck him. It just happened.

“You’re awake,” she said softly from behind him. Of course Zhaan was the big spoon in this relationship. If anyone currently on this island knew that sometimes Stark needed to be held it would be her. There was someone else who might know, but she was currently far away and might not admit to knowing anyway.

“I am,” he confirmed, turning carefully to face her without moving from the circle of her arm. “Did you sleep?”

“You needn’t concern yourself with that. I am rested enough.” And more rest would come soon.

“You will always be a concern of mine.”

“And you of mine,” Zhaan said gently, moving her hand to stroke his cheek. “Always.”

[Mostly establishy so I can talk to myself in the comments, but if someone has a reason to knock on the door go for it!]
stykera: (sincere)
Stark had spent a good portion of yesterday working on a birthday cake. He'd considered cupcakes because that's what he usually made but a full-size cake was different and possibly more special, so he'd gone with that. And he'd covered the cake with purple and gold edible glitter. It had seemed appropriate and he'd found it amusing. He only hoped the recipient of the cake would as well.

The cake was on the table, along with far too many takeout containers for two people. Not because he'd ordered and received too many. He'd ordered from several places on purpose. That way there were choices. Hopefully at least one was correct.

He wasn't entirely confident he'd done enough for this birthday, given that the 3 most recent birthdays he'd attended had involved 21 bars in a row (Stark was very glad he was not going to be visiting 78 or even 24 bars today), a very large and loud arcade, and a glittery western themed party. He was also a little worried that it might be more than Faye really wanted. He'd have to see.

He thought she'd be pleased. He hoped she'd be pleased. He'd find out either way once she arrived.

[For the purple-haired 78 year old!]
stykera: (cling!)
Last night had been a good night. Perhaps a little too good. Stark had certainly overindulged while visiting 21 bars (not that he could remember there had been 21, at some point it had become a blur) but he'd had fun, he'd gotten nothing more than a few odd looks directed at his mask, and he'd spent the majority of one stop with his date perched in his lap kissing him to keep him from talking too much. Maybe he ought to attend more birthdays.

They had managed to stumble home eventually (thanks, Liam!) after Faye had gifted Summer some of her spoils from the evening. Getting in to the apartment had proved more difficult than expected but they'd managed. Eventually. Locks were difficult sometimes. Stark might not be entirely corporeal but that mean he couldn't get drunk. And he had been.

In fact, Stark was still not sobered up. If he had been sober he might have remembered that he'd been thrown out of his own bed the last time he tried to cuddle his current companion and he might have gone to the kitchen to fix something for breakfast.

Instead, when he awoke to find Faye still in his bed he'd rolled on to his side to see her better. Having only one eye was inconvenient at times, like right now when she was on his right side and he couldn't see her without moving. And as long as he was already moving he might as well throw his arm over her. That only made sense. She was right there. He should hold her. Why else was she right there?


[For last night's daaaaate who claims she doesn't like cuddles, the liar.]
stykera: (no mask no glow)
Yesterday had been extremely odd, and exhausting, even for here. Today had been fine for Stark though. Much less chaotic. He hadn’t turned into anyone or anything he shouldn’t have, for one thing. That was always a positive. His mask had stayed where it was meant to, which also helped make for a more pleasant day. Wine class had presumably been fine as well but now he was back in his apartment and settling in for the night.

He’d eaten (a meal not entirely made up of sugar, even) and cleaned up the kitchen. It could be an early night, he thought, or maybe he would curl up on his couch and watch a food program, or look for recipe inspirations for class tomorrow. Maybe even both.

For now, he’d shower. Perhaps shave. It would be better to have a freshly shaved head before facing paintball tomorrow in case Anakin tried (or accomplished) anything. That sounded good to Stark. A shower, a shave, and a quiet night in.

So that’s where he was, in the shower (without his mask, because it was easier not to get the straps wet than to dry them after) in his empty and locked apartment. At least, the door was locked the last time he checked.


[Stark is clearly expecting nobody. I am expecting 1 or 2 neighbors for maximum awkwardness! :D]
stykera: (worried)
Stark wasn't entirely unaccustomed to waking up with a sense of impending doom. It just hadn't happened recently. He thought, at first, that he had just startled himself awake from a nightmare that he couldn't remember but usually his nightmares were memorable affairs. This was more a sense that something was wrong or about to be wrong but he didn't know why.

The sense of dread hadn't left him after he was fully awake, or after eating, or a mug of tea. He'd then cleaned the kitchen, trying to channel the nervous energy he seemed full of into something productive even though there was barely anything needed.

Cleaning didn't help. Pacing around the apartment didn't help. He even left to walk outside but that didn't improve things either though at least it didn't make him feel worse.

Going somewhere with people might have helped. He would have at least known that it wasn't just him feeling this way today. But he didn't try that.

Instead, once he returned to his apartment, he looked around for something else to occupy his hands and hopefully his mind with. He needed a distraction from worrying about what was wrong, or might be wrong. All he came up with was more cleaning, at first, until he was hungry and reasoned that if he baked something it would keep him occupied for a while between the actual making of the baked goods, the eating, and cleaning the kitchen again.

If nothing else, the apartment would smell like cookies and there would be something chocolate to eat. That couldn't hurt, even if it wouldn't really help with whatever was bothering him.


[Mostly establishy. Could be open though. I'm not picky.]
stykera: (thumb)
Aside from getting a bucket of ice water dumped on him at prom, the night had gone well for Stark. Honestly the ice had only led to a hasty retreat to the apartment building to remove wet clothing so frell you, Anakin. Three nights in a row had gone very well indeed for Stark.

Eventually he'd fallen asleep, though not before tossing water on a pair of amorous and very noisy raccoons on the balcony because he had to admit the water was a good way to momentarily redirect energy.

Between the pollen, finally finding some outlets for the affects of the pollen, and having been away from the island for so long before last summer, Stark had forgotten that mysterious children tended to appear after prom. Waking up with his head clear after a week of it being very much not hadn't led to remembering. Waking up with his head clear had just led to a few moments of mild panic wondering what the repercussions of the past 3 nights might be.

But there wasn't going to be time for Stark to get thoroughly awkward just yet. After showering he was making his way to the kitchen when he stopped. Who could possibly be knocking on his door this early? And why did it sound like someone was giggling in the hallway?


[Ooooopen, for some impossible children, any neighbors that might stop by as a result of impossible children, or one neighbor who could have stayed the night if she wanted but I'm not going to presume]
stykera: (glee!)
Today, Stark decided, was a good day to stop putting it off and finally attempt to contact Moya again. He wasn't sure why. It just felt right, today.

Perhaps because nothing strange had happened for a few days. He wasn't angrier or happier or more nervous than usual. Nothing was invading. Nobody was turning into things, at least not that he knew of. It was a normal day, for Fandom, and it seemed like a good day to try and reconnect.

He wasn't sure it would work, and spent a good amount of time turning the comms over in his hands nervously and muttering under his breath. He was pacing as well, back and forth across the living room of his apartment. Eventually he grew annoyed with himself, shook his head, took a deep breath, and tried to place his call.

There was a long silence, long enough he was about to give up. And then, suddenly, a faint and familiar voice was there, wanting to know who was on this frequency.

"It worked! Pilot! It worked! It's me!" There were no images on this call but Stark was smiling widely anyway.

"...Stark?"

"Yes, me! It's me!"

"Stark, do you...need assistance?"

"No, no. Nonono I'm fine. I just...I just wanted to say hello. It's been a long time. Are you well? Is Moya? Everyone? Are you all well?"

"Moya and I are fine," Pilot assured him. Stark thought he said something after that but couldn't quite make it out.

"Pilot? It's hard to hear you. Can you hear me?"

A third voice joined in, unfortunately just as faint as Pilot's. "Pilot, who's on the phone?"

"Crichton! Hello! You're there!"

"Astro? Stark, man, where the frell have you been? Locked up again? You need a rescue?"

"I don't need rescuing," Stark answered indignantly. "If I did how would I be calling? Have I ever been able to call for help? Have any of us?"

"Good point. Where are you? You coming back?"

"Somewhere safe," Stark answered vaguely. "And I don't know. Is everyone there well?"

"We're good. Chi's good. Rygel's plotting-" Crichton's voice cut out mid-sentence. "Aeryn's great. And Deke's perfect. Waiting for his Uncle Stark to come visit."

"His un-?...oh."

"Really man, where are you?"

Stark sighed, then decided just to answer truthfully. "Maryland."

"This connection's terrible. Coulda sworn you just said Maryland. Pilot, can we boost this?"

"The signal is already 'boosted.' Further attempts may cause it to be lost entirely."

"Got it, Pilot," Crichton said. "Better be quick before we lose you, Stark. You want our address in case you decide to come home?"

"I...yes. Your coordinates would be good to have. In case I decide to come."

Pilot rattled off the coordinates and repeated them once. "Moya wishes to let you know that you are welcome on board...whenever you might wish to return," he added.

"Please give Moya my thanks," Stark said.

"We'll leave the light o-" Crichton's last statement was cut off.

"Crichton? Pilot?"

There were no further responses from the ship. But he'd been able to speak with two of his shipmates. That would have to be enough for Stark for now.



[It's the Farscape anniversary! So I figured I should post. And then my laptop died and I lost half of what I had. Sigh. Mostly establishy but could absolutely be open. Although it's late. But time is meaningless so that's fine.]
stykera: (ok)
Stark was alone today as he was most days. The one person in this or any universe he would have wanted to spend this particular day with remained out of reach and he was used to that. He was used to be alone but also considering, vaguely, that perhaps he didn't always have to be that way.

He had sent flowers to a few of his friends today and to his delighted surprise had received deliveries of his own. The 3 vases were set in different places his apartment and he found himself smiling at them throughout the day whenever they caught his eye. He wasn't truly alone now. There were cheerful yellow reminders of that right in front of his face.

But perhaps he ought to finally try and reconnect to old friends as well. He had his comms from Moya, had never lost it even during the last time he'd been gone from the island and still couldn't account for. It stayed in his pocket, usually, as a touchstone of sorts. He had no idea if it still worked. It didn't seem active. He also didn't know if he could still connect to the ship from here. It had been possible, before, but things could have changed. Nothing on this island or on Moya had ever been certain. There was probably someone on the island who could help with making a connection, if he looked. Perhaps his rarely used phone could even be modified.

He wasn't planning on going back. Not yet. Certainly not permanently. Still, the baggage this week had him thinking on his surviving shipmates more than usual. He would like to speak with them again and reassure himself that everyone was well.

For now though he was content to sit here with a mug of tea and a cupcake covered with extremely pink frosting and heart-shaped sprinkles from JGoB.


[Mostly establishy but could be open if anyone had a reason to stop by]
stykera: (this is upsetting)
Stark's apartment was, as a general rule, rather empty. He didn't have a lot of belongings and what he did have was neatly put away. As a result he was very surprised to trip over luggage when waking up Wednesday morning.

"What in the…" His voice trailed off as he read the side of the suitcase that had led to his being on the floor rather than upright and frowned deeply. " 'Survivor's Guilt?' Why would anyone want to carry that?" He shook his head, got up, and turned to keep walking out of the room only to be met by more baggage, labeled in a variety of languages.

"Oh, frell."

The cases were unmoved. Particularly, he thought, the ones with Scarran lettering about slaves.

"... No," he told the bags, as if that would help. "We're not. I'm not. Just no." The baggage, unsurprisingly, did not listen. Not even the ones with labels which, one would think, would have indicated an eagerness to please.

Outside of the bedroom was no better. A pair of matching cases in a brilliant shade of blue, blocked his path. One labeled She Died and the other She Left. He pushed them to the side, wincing as he did so.

"Should have stayed in bed," he muttered as he walked into the kitchen to make tea. "Just ignore it. Might go away." A duffel bag on the counter labeled Avoidance quietly disagreed.

The couch was nearly entirely taken up by a trunk with a very large number scrawled across it. Stark just sighed and sat beside it with his mug of tea.


[TBH he probably ought to be crushed flat beneath his emotional baggage. Could be open, though he'll be at the bar for the evening as usual as well. With slightly less baggage, maybe?]
stykera: (the horror!)
Stark had woken up this morning to the sounds of singing. This was unusual. His apartment was usually fairly quiet. The singing had not subsided and after a few moments he had located its source. The raccoons were on his balcony. And the raccoons on his balcony were singing. With words. That was new. They usually tried not to draw attention to themselves and only rarely would he catch a glimpse of one scurrying away. They had certainly never sung to him before and he hadn't realized they could talk. Or sing. Or compose songs about him. And the song was certainly about and directed at Stark. The singing had lasted quite a while and when they finally gave up they had left several bottles behind on the balcony.

They had left bottles of beer behind before. Today there were bottles of what seemed to be craft root and ginger beers rather than the usual sort.

Then it got dark and a new set of songs started up. Stark was beginning to regret staying in today. Moreso when he found the source of the new song.

"But why have you come out to socialize?" he asked the ghosts.

They didn't answer. They just kept singing.

"Do you need help? Are you trapped here?"

Still, the singing continued.

Stark would evidently not be getting much sleep this weekend.


[I couldn't resist. Can be open despite the lateness of the hour, I suppose. He'll be out and about tomorrow though.]
stykera: (what was that?)
When there was a knock on Stark's door he was expecting a neighbor. He was not expecting gremlins singing carols.

He was also not expecting the inflatable reindeer in the hallway. Had the gremlins brought it? The raccoons? Summer or Rey? Had it followed him home yesterday? Who knew. It was a mystery. As long as it didn't follow him into his apartment of its own volition he was fine with it.


"I don't have figgy pudding," he told the gremlins who had started out with a rousing rendition of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas" and sang the line about not leaving until they got some in a slightly menacing fashion. "I don't even know what it is. I have cookies? Will that do?"

The gremlins, luckily, were satisfied by cookies. That just meant they were going to sing more though. And Stark, being someone who did not want to be bitten, was going to listen to them until they were finished. If he ended up quietly singing along to "All I Want For Christmas Is You" that could probably be blamed on Jaskier's performances at the party. That song was never getting out of his head.


[Can totally be open. I basically welcome any and all distractions these days.]

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Stark

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