Stark

It was a different day of the week than usual this session, but Stark was in his office. He wasn't sure why. The class was over now. He ought to have done this on an earlier day this week if he had wanted it to be in any way useful. But he was here nonetheless.

He'd packed up the cupcake books or returned them to the library. All that remained on the desk were the plants and the usual plate of cupcakes. This time they were cupcakes left from yesterday's class, which he was reviewing. There may even have been some note-taking happening about them in the hopes he might be able to recreate some in the future, or have someone else do so. Maybe he could make some suggestions to Gunther at the hotel. Or to someone at J,GoB. And, of course, there were plenty of cupcakes to share with anyone that might stop by.

[Sure, it's a bit silly to have office hours after the class is over but I forgot Wednesday and I didn't want to miss my last chance. I am clinging desperately to my glowyface alien, as per usual. Door and post are, of course, open.]

Things were back to normal in Stark's office, thanks to things being back to normal on the rest of the island. Or as normal as they got around here, at least.

He'd looked for a book of Disney cupcakes in honor of their new location but hadn't found one in the library. So today he was looking at cupcake blogs instead. There were lots of options for making mouse ears and for other Disney inspired things. Those cupcakes probably wouldn't end up being used in class but they were fun to look at. He wondered if there were cupcakes across the causeway in the park.

There was a plate of mini cupcakes on the desk, a Banik sitting behind it, and the door was open.


[Open office (the alternative here would be silly), SP because I'm covered in tiny children all day. Come say hi, have a cupcake or two (they're small).]

The routine hadn't changed this week, though Stark had acquired another tiny potted plant (this one with blue flowers) for the desk.

He was still sitting at the desk, still looking at cupcake cookbooks. This week he had two books open in front of him. One seemed to just be strange looking cupcakes, but the other had some rather questionable recipes in it.

The plate of mini cupcakes for sharing purposes contained cupcakes that neither looked nor tasted weird. This week's were all varying degrees of chocolate.

[As always, my availability is zero until I return home in the evening, but Stark is happy to have visitors and I am happy to pick up pings when I get back.]

This week the office looked much the same as it had last week. Stark still found the idea of an office rather odd, but he was beginning to get used to it. After spending a few minutes tending to his tiny plant (which was doing quite well, thank you) he sat down at his desk.

Once again there was a small plate of tiny cupcakes on the desk for sharing. There was also a pile of cookbooks on one corner of the desk and after some careful consideration Stark picked up the top one and started flipping through it. Research was important. Really. And he liked the pictures.

[Post and door are open. My availability is zero until 5-ish EDT, as per usual.]

Stark was not time-displaced. Not this weekend anyway. This was probably a good thing. He'd jumped around in time before and it had ended, quite literally, in tears. Also in death and for a brief period a planet being utterly destroyed. The planet, at least, had gotten better. But that wasn't really relevant right now.

What was relevant was that Stark had found that cupcake TV program that Anders had mentioned and was now sitting on the edge of the bed watching it. Well, staring at it in horrified fascination might be a better term.

"FISH!?" Stark shook his head. "What sort of twisted person puts fish into a cupcake? That is terrible. Absolutely terrible."

Yes. Yes, he was in fact talking to the cupcake in his hand. Look, nobody ever accused him of being sane. Well, maybe they had. But really he'd only ever been accused of being less mad than he appeared.

"I'm not even sure what wasabi is" he continued, frowning at the nice normal chocolate cupcake he was holding, "but it does not sound like it belongs in a cupcake. Especially with fish. This is horrible. I have to tell Anders. I hope his cupcake truck doesn't do things like that. That was awful. Awful awful awful. Fish. In a cupcake!"

But he wasn't changing the channel. He couldn't seem to look away.


[Yes, he's watching Cupcake Wars and the tuna wasabi cupcake was REAL. Can be open. This just had to be done.]

It was absurd, Stark had decided, that cupcakes were apparently unique to Earth. He hadn't given up hope that someday he might find them but given the sheer number of commerce (and other) planets he'd been on in his lifetime he didn't think it likely.

Perhaps he could start a cupcake business out here in the Uncharteds. Of course, he'd have to learn how to actually bake them first. Maybe Anders could help with that. And there was the lack of chocolate to contend with as well. Anders probably couldn't do much about that. The chocolate ones were, after all, the best ones. Perhaps the chocolate deficiency that the rest of the universe suffered from was the reason that there were no cupcakes to be found.

And perhaps Stark had been spending too much time alone eating his seemingly never-ending supply of food cubes and daydreaming of cupcakes.

There were no funny hats in space these days. Just a cramped transport pod with a Nebari, a Diagnosan, a Banik and a ... whatever it was Grunschlk was. Luckily, the trip back to the water planet wasn't all that long. It just felt that way.

To keep himself from sliding any further into insanity, Stark had been working on adjusting his comms. He was certain he could manage to make the comms connect to the Fandom alumni network with a little effort. Or, as it turned out, a lot of effort. A transport pod containing a drunk Diagnosan, his handler, and Chiana was not the best work environment for anyone, let alone someone as unstable as Stark so often was. But he was certain he could make it work.

He was certain he had made it work, actually, but he'd been certain of many other successes in the past that hadn't turned out to be successes at all. That hadn't stopped him before, and it didn't stop him now.

So while the pod made a brief stop on a commerce planet and Stark was left blissfully alone for a few microts, he very tentatively tried out his new and theoretically improved comms. Whether he'd be able to make contact with anyone wasn't clear, but he was going to say a hello into the ether and hope for the best.


[Farscape is 10 years old today. Woo! I decided to celebrate I would maybe let Stark actually interact with someone. Crazy, I know. But it just might work. If you've any desire to receive something like a phone call from an emo alien, now would be the time.]

Stark found himself wandering during the middle of what would have been night, if spaceships had night, and eventually his feet led him to what had once been Zhaan's quarters. Of course he was here. Where else?

( Walking's good exercise, at least? )


[For a change, nothing stolen from episode transcripts. I want a cupcake.]

Eventually, the Hynerian and the Traskan find what, and who, they have been searching for. It wasn't quite so simple as that. Things are never as simple as that. There had been Charrids and Kalish and Scarrans to avoid and various other parts of the plan to implement, but eventually the pair had found the correct room and the box within it. And then, of course, there had been more people to avoid and a bit of hiding behind said box.


( And then... )


[A whoooole lot of this is borrowed and adapted from transcripts of episode 4.21 "We're So Screwed: La Bomba." The middle bit is all me.]