Stark awoke Saturday morning suddenly no longer Stark-shaped. There was a minimal amount of flailing this time and only one small yell of dismay, quickly muffled. He was almost used to this. Almost, not quite. He would never really be used to it. The flailing and yell gave way very shortly to nothing more than a long-suffering sigh ( Read more... )

Stark had been unwilling, at first, to accept the fact that the ever-increasing list of disappearances might grow to include someone he cared about. That was what had kept him, so far, from trying to contact Moya. That, and the fact that regular contact was just not something Stark had ever excelled at ( Read more... )

It was cold out. Stark was not pleased with this development. Cold and snow would likely always remind him of the ice planet. But that was hard to think on, so he was trying not to. Even though it was cold and snowy outside.

Bundled up in his muppet fur coat, he was seated at the desk with an open book in front of him. There was also a mug of tea ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

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 ( Read more... )

( In which Stark marries a couple, gets slapped for his troubles, and somehow almost everyone escapes alive. Almost everyone. )

( In which Stark nearly drowns but then feels much better about life. )