Stark

Saturday mornings were generally quiet affairs for Stark. Of course, most days were. Generally he liked it that way. He hadn't realized last night was Prom yet, and even if he had he probably wouldn't have made the connection between that event and the arrival of unexpected children. After all, he hadn't had any children show up on the island before. The only time that had ever happened had been on that trip to Disneyland.

So it was an entirely unsuspecting alien who was sitting on the floor watching television (the Food Network, naturally) on Saturday morning and wondering whether he should venture out for food or not. The question was about to be answered for him.

[For kidlets, but open should anyone want to stop by or call or whatever.]

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).]

Stark's office had not changed much since last session. The tiny potted plants on the desk were somewhat less tiny and the pile of cupcake books was larger, but other than that everything was the same. He even used the same plate to hold this week's batch of tiny cupcakes.

This week he was looking through a book of vegan cupcake recipes. It might be an interesting experiment to see if the chocolate vegan cupcakes tasted different from the regular ones. This would, naturally, be done in the interests of scientific exploration. Really.


[Open door, open office, but I am running around madly trying to pack so pings may be sporadic.]

The cookbook Stark was looking at today sounded delicious. Well, the book did not sound that way. The recipes did. Though the pictures weren't as interesting as some of those in the other books had been. He had plenty of other books to look at pictures in though, if he wanted to. The pile of cupcake cookbooks he had amassed while on the island had grown large enough now that it needed to be split into two.

The plate of tiny cupcakes took up exactly as much space as it always did. And the plants had not taken over the desk as much as the books had. They all seemed to be doing well though. They did seem to enjoy being talked to. And Stark found himself discussing cupcake possibilities with them often. They didn't talk back, of course, and if they had he probably would have run screaming from the office. Most plants didn't talk, and there was still a sometimes painful lack of those on this island and everywhere else. At least of one particular one.


[Standard disclaimer re: availability. And as per usual I'm happy to pick up pings later and the alien is happy for visitors.]

Stark wasn't sure what a "Strawberry Social" was. Still, he planned on at least going by the park to see what it was all about later today. And it had already at least provided inspiration for this week's tiny cupcakes for any visitors that might drop in. They were, naturally, strawberry cupcakes with strawberry frosting. And they were delicious.

The two tiny houseplants on the desk looked to have gotten marginally less tiny. The pile of cupcake books had definitely grown even larger. This week's selection was open on the desk in front of Stark. So were some others, but that one had the best pictures of the current selection.


[I am as always internetless until around 5ish.]

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.

When he woke yesterday, Stark had let out a few half-hearted "frell!"s, then sighed and gone about his usual routine. Not that he had much of a routine at this point, but there was always upkeep to be done on the transport pod and consulting of maps and starcharts, and the ever-important missing of cupcakes while unenthusiastically nibbling on the seemingly endless supply of food cubes he'd mistakenly purchased on the last commerce planet he'd stopped at.

When he woke on the second solar day to find he was still a girl and had not returned to his usual shape while he slept the "oh, frell" was far more heartfelt than the previous day's. The flailing was far more pronounced as well.

"It always went away after just one day before," he growled to the empty transport pod. The only answer was a soft echo of his currently higher pitched voice, which was growing annoyingly familiar by now.

"It will go away again, won't it? I don't like this." He was rather attached to his proper shape and found being the wrong shape very distressing. Especially when things did not go back to normal when they were supposed to.

Perhaps he could at least share the misery. Or find out if this was happening to anyone else. Still happening to anyone else. Shaking his head (which had too much hair!), he turned his attention to the comms system.


[Open for calls with a mildly flaily alien, should anyone so desire.]