#uhhhhhhh idk what funny comments to put in the tags

[thelastspeecher]

Accidental Abduction AU - Tethers

Emerges from my autumnal pile of blankets, posts this writing, and immediately slithers back underneath my cozy hideaway.

Here, have a surprise Accidental Abduction AU ficlet. Featuring Feelings.

Enjoy.

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              Stan stood on the teleporting pad, his heart in his mouth.  Sally and Merle smiled at him from where they stood, manning the teleportation controls.  They preferred to avoid teleporting, something Angie and Lute attributed to them being “old school”.  But there wasn’t anywhere the ship could safely land where Stan was headed.

              “Are you ready?” Sally asked.  Stan swallowed nervously, but nodded.  He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in when he was first abducted.  After so long in the jumpsuits preferred on the alien planet, jeans felt incredibly weird.  “We’ll send you down once Angie’s here.”

              “Uh, why?” Stan asked.  Merle frowned.

              “We’re not sending you down on your own, son.  It wouldn’t be polite.”

              “…Angie’s coming with me?” Stan said quietly.  As if on cue, Angie entered the room, wearing one of the few pieces of Earth clothing they had found that fit her large stature: a yellow sundress patterned with flowers.  “You’re coming with?”

              “Yep!”  Angie walked over to the teleporting pad.  She stood next to him, smiling.  “I want to see your planet!”

              “But, uh, you’re gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

              “I love that expression,” Angie said with a giggle.  “Humans are so odd with their idioms!”

              “He has a point, dear,” Merle said.  “You need to disguise yourself before we send you down.”

              “All right, all right, just gimme a minute!” Angie said, rolling her eyes.  Stan felt a small surge of pride.

              I taught her how to be ornery like that.  Then, before his astonished eyes, Angie began to shrink.  Her magenta hair changed to a caramel-color, albeit with some pink streaks, and her cobalt skin lightened into a hue close to Stan’s.  Angie looked at him.  Only one of her eyes was silver now.  The other was a soft blue.  Stan’s jaw dropped.

              “Have you always been able to do that?” he demanded.  Angie giggled again.  “You’ve been able to do that this whole time?!”

              “Our species has limited shapeshifting abilities,” Merle explained.  “Angie’s human disguise is superior to most members of our race, however, because she is a quarter human.”

              “Why didn’t you guys tell me before?” Stan asked.  Angie shrugged.

              “It never came up.”

              “I can’t believe this,” Stan muttered.  He shook his head.  “Well, it’ll make it easier to blend in.  Even though you’re still way taller than average.”  Angie’s height, a few inches shy of seven feet, had been reduced to roughly six feet.

              “Yeah, we can’t change our size very much.”  Angie beamed at him.  “Ready?”  Stan took a steadying breath.

              “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

-----

              The teleporter placed Stan and Angie in an alleyway Stan knew well.  He looked to his left.  Sure enough, the fire escape was still broken.

              The excuse they used to get out of fixing it was that it would make it easier for me to sneak out.  Guess that was bullshit.  Some part of him yearned to grab the familiar rusty metal and pull himself up like he used to.  No.  That’s not what I’m here for.

              “Well?” Angie asked.  Stan looked at her.  “Do you think you’re tethered?”

              Right.  That’s what we’re here for.  The alien family was willing to let him stay with them, but on the one condition that they check whether he was “tethered” to Earth.  According to them, some species struggled leaving their home planet, and they didn’t want to harm him by keeping him in a different solar system.

              “How will I know if I’m tethered?” Stan asked.  Angie frowned.

              “Your vitals will get better, for one thing.  For another, you’ll just feel more at peace and complete.”  Her mismatched eyes searched his face.  “So?”

              “I mean.  I sorta feel the same,” Stan mumbled.  Angie nodded slowly.  “Does that mean we’re good?”

              “My mom said that tethering can take up to ten minutes to manifest properly.  We won’t know for sure if humans are an untethered species until then.”

              “Okay…”  Stan stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.  His fingers brushed up against his old lighter.

              Man, I haven’t had a smoke since I ran outta my last pack almost a year ago.

              “You’ve told me a lot about Earth beaches,” Angie started timidly.

              “You wanna see the beach?”

              “Yes!”

              “Sure, I’ll show you the beach.”  Stan kissed her cheek.  “I like taking pretty girls for walks on beaches.”  Angie smiled sweetly.  “Follow me.”  Stan exited the alley and began to walk down the street.  He and Angie had only managed a few steps before there was a loud crash from the building they were walking past.  Stan sighed heavily.

              Dammit.  She’s the one working the counter, isn’t she?  He reluctantly turned his head.  Looking like she’d seen a ghost, his mother stared at him through the Pines Pawns storefront.  Stan came to a stop and sighed again.

              “Something wrong?” Angie asked.

              “No, just- I gotta do something,” Stan said.  “I’m gonna go in this store.  I’ll be right back.”

              “Oh.  Okay.”

              “If anyone tries to mess with you, do this,” Stan said, flipping the bird.  Angie nodded slowly.  “If they keep messing with you after you do that, go ahead and kick their ass.”  Angie flipped the bird back at Stan.

              “This is a diplomatic gesture, then?” she asked.

              “In New Jersey?  Yeah.  But don’t do it unless someone messes with you.  Okay?”

              “Got it.”  Angie smiled.  Stan frowned.  “What?”

              “It’s weird seeing you with regular human teeth,” Stan said.  Angie laughed.  “All right.  Try not to attract too much attention.”

              “I’ll do my best,” Angie said.  Stan shot another smile in her direction and entered the store.  The bell over the door ringed, a sound that immediately flashed him back to the thousands of times he’d heard it before.

              “Hey, Mom,” Stan managed weakly.  Ma Pines continued to stare at him silently.  He walked up to the counter.  “So, uh, I-”

              “Where have you been?!” Ma Pines demanded, grabbing his shirt and pulling him close.  Stan looked out the storefront window.  Angie was engrossed in a pigeon eating a piece of pizza.

              Good.  Don’t want her to see any of this conversation.

              “…Places,” Stan said vaguely.

              “It was like you disappeared off the face of the Earth!”

              “I mean, sorta,” Stan mumbled.  His mom released her hold on his shirt.  She searched his face, then scanned his body.

              “I see you haven’t lost any weight.”

              “Uh.  Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

              “A good thing.  Clearly, you’re getting food from somewhere.”

              “Yeah.  The family I’ve been staying with are asking me all the time if I need more to eat.”

              “You’ve been staying with a different family?” Ma Pines whispered.  Stan scowled at her.

              “I was kicked outta the house at seventeen, Mom.  It’s not like I had any other options lined up.”

              “You could have come back-”

              “I couldn’t have, and you know that,” Stan said firmly.  Ma Pines sighed softly but nodded.  “Anyways, I’m not- I’m in town today for a few hours, but after that, I’m not coming back.  You- you might not ever see me again.”

              “What?!”  Ma Pines slammed her hands on the counter, glaring at Stan.  “You can’t just expect me to accept my baby walkin’ out like that!”

              “You were fine with Pops kicking your ‘baby’ out!” Stan snapped back.  He shook his head.  “Stop acting like there are a billion alternatives.  There aren’t.  Either I stay or I leave.  And you know why I can’t stay.”

              “Yes.  I- I suppose I do.”  Ma Pines looked down at the counter.  “But you’ll really never come back?”

              “Probably not.”

              “Why not?”

              “There isn’t anything for me here.”

              “I don’t qualify?”

              “You and Pops are kinda a package deal.”

              “Shermie?”

              “He’s overseas more often than not.”

              “Stanford?”

              “Does he still hate my guts?” Stan asked.  Her silence was answer enough.  “Mom, there’s nothing here for me except bad memories.  I have to go.  And I won’t be back.”

              “The family you’re living with…they take good care of you?” Ma Pines asked.

              “Oh yeah.  They’re, uh, foreigners, so they’re always worried about making sure I’m doing all right.  They’re not familiar with our culture or whatever.”

              “No, that makes sense.”

              “You don’t have to worry, Mom.  I’m gonna be fine.”

              “I’m your mother.  I’ll always worry,” Ma Pines said roughly.  She discretely wiped away a tear from her eye.  She then turned her head to look out the storefront window.  “The young lady outside…”

              “What about her?”

              “Is she part of the family you’re staying with?”

              “Yeah.”

              “She wouldn’t happen to be your girlfriend, too, would she?” Ma Pines asked, watching Angie.  Angie was still observing the pigeon intently.

              “…Yes.  She is.”

              “Is it serious?”

              “I don’t wanna talk about this.”

              “That’s a yes, then.  Is she Jewish?”

              “Mom!”

              “All right, I’ll drop it.”  Ma Pines sighed.  “A cute dress like that deserves a necklace.  Silver or gold?”

              “Huh?”

              “For your girlfriend,” Ma Pines said impatiently.  “A silver or gold necklace?”

              “Uh, silver?  But I don’t have any cash on me.”

              I’ve got alien bucks, but Pops doesn’t like taking checks.  No way he’d accept money from a different solar system.

              “Oh, please,” Ma Pines scoffed.  She walked over to the jewelry case and removed a delicate looking silver necklace with a moon charm on it.  “Even psychics misplace things sometimes.”

              “Mom…” Stan started.  Ma Pines walked back to the counter.

              “Just promise me you’ll be the good boy I know you are.  Don’t fight with your host family or your girlfriend unless they deserve to be fought.”  She held out the necklace.

              “I can’t take this.”

              “I insist,” Ma Pines said.  “Either you take it or I march out there and give it to your girlfriend myself.”

              “Fine.”  Stan took the necklace from his mom.

              “Pretty girls deserve pretty things.”

              “I know, I know.  You’ve told me that a thousand times.”

              “Sure, sue me for telling you one more time before you leave forever.”  Ma Pines leaned over the counter to kiss Stan’s forehead.  “Take care of yourself, Stanley Danley.”

              “I always do.”

              “Good boy.”  Ma Pines sighed heavily.  She looked away, but not quickly enough to hide the tears in her eyes.  “Now, get outta here before I lock the door and make you stay.”

              “Okay.”  Stan walked back to the door.  He paused.  “I- I love you, mom.”

              “I love you, too, sweetie,” Ma Pines said, her voice choked up.  Stan left the store, the familiar bell ringing again.  Angie looked over at him.

              “Did you get what you were looking for?” she asked.

              “Yeah.  I did.”  Stan walked up to her.  He held out the necklace.  “This is for you.”

              “I thought you didn’t have any Earth money left.”

              “I found some,” Stan lied.  Angie hesitantly took the necklace from him.  “It matches your eyes.  Well, it matches your eyes when they’re normal.”  Angie giggled.  She put on the necklace, every movement careful, like she was worried she’d break it.

              “How’s it look?” she asked.

              Dammit, Mom was right.  The necklace completes the outfit.

              “It looks great, babe.  C’mon, let’s head out for the beach.”

              “Ooh, yes!”

              They crossed the street.  Before they could leave the block, however, a taxi pulled in front of the pawn shop.  Stan paused.  He watched Ford exit the taxi and enter the store.  Through the storefront window, he could see his mom leave her spot behind the counter to wrap Ford in a tight embrace.

              “Oh, the ten minutes are up,” Angie said, checking the small device she kept around her wrist like a watch.  “We should know for sure whether you’re tethered or not.  So…are you?”

              “I still don’t know how to tell,” Stan muttered.

              “Is there anything drawing you to this planet?  Any sort of connection?” Angie pressed.  Stan watched his mom and twin brother disappear behind a door, presumably to go to the apartment upstairs.  The apartment he’d been raised in.  He took a deep breath, then let it out.

              “No.  Nothing’s keeping me here,” Stan said.  Angie clapped her hands in excitement.

              “Oh, excellent!  You can stay with us permanently then!  I’ll tell my parents the good news.”

              “Ah ah, not so fast,” Stan said.  “When you tell them, they’ll want to teleport us back.  And we’ve still got a beach to see.”

              “Oh no, I almost forgot!  Yes, please take me to the beach!”

              “You got it, babe.”  Stan took ahold of Angie’s hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.  They walked down the street.  Angie rambled about the pigeon she’d been watching, but Stan couldn’t stop his mind from wandering.

              The plan had always been to tell the alien family that he didn’t have any connection to Earth.

              Stan just didn’t expect that to be the truth.

[thedreadvampy]

Ok please if you don’t mind saying - who is Stuart semple and what did he do? I’m so confused. Like I recognise the name and I think he might the an artist or something but I have no idea

He is indeed an artist! He’s a English multidisciplinary fine artist best known for his ongoing beef with English sculptor Anish Kapoor over the 2016 exclusive licensing on the process to make Vantablack colour coating, which meant Kapoor was the only artist allowed to use it. Then Stuart Semple made Pinkest Pink pigment and said it was available to everyone but Anish Kapoor, and there was a big blowup which there’s a lot of documentation of - it was very memed.

Since then, Semple has made a bunch more pigments, most of them with the available-to-everyone-but-Anish-Kapoor disclaimer, and the beef periodically flares up, although I will say as time goes on it seems to me to have got increasingly one-sided given that Kapoor has pretty much wandered off.

(I’ve used several of his colours, btw. Pinkest Pink is pretty good. Blackest Black, his attempt to make the blackest possible paint (as opposed to Vantablack which is a nanofibre coating) I was pretty disappointed in, I’ve honestly had better light capture from mid-range art shop paints. His other pigments vary in quality - some I really liked, some I was meh on, but I think Blackest Black is the only one I was actively unimpressed by)

Anyway. Where I come in is much less exciting. 

A few months ago I reblogged a post on Tumblr asking about Semple from a discourse tag (my reblog did not tag or @ anyone), and I made a glib comment where I said (very truthfully) that while I thought he was pretty decent at pigments, both his paintings and his online persona came across pretty adolescent to me.

so it turns out Stuart Semple is an inveterate name searcher (hi Stuart if you’re reading this!) 

(Side note: I actually should have guessed this from 2019 Twitter when he saw and commented on an untagged thread I wrote about him and Kapoor’s beef (which was because I’d seen an article in which Kapoor, a British-Asian man, said that the racist Prevent strategy was liable to drive young British-Asian men into the arms of terrorist groups by making it clear their country hates them reblogged on Semple’s account with a caption claiming Anish Kapoor was pro-terrorism, which, while tongue-in-cheek, isn’t a neutral statement for a white person to make about an Asian person and was a pretty phenomenally bad-faith reading of Kapoor’s actual words) and in my thread I pretty much said that when the story had broken, I, like everybody else, had found it very funny and been firmly on side with Semple’s bit, but I felt that a) after a couple of years it really wasn’t very relevant any more and it had started to feel less like Fighting The Power and more like bullying the amount of Semple’s web presence was devoted to talking about Anish Kapoor; b) that it was a shame that Anish Kapoor was increasingly only known as The Vantablack Guy given that I really like a lot of his work and c) that continuing to frame a Jewish person of colour as the Face of the Artistic Elite was a bit weird given how overwhelmingly white the high-end art world is. but I digress. Semple responded to that thread, I don’t really remember what he said, it wasn’t an acrimonious response but it was a bit Oh I Didn’t Do Anything To Tag You?)

so anyway he found my reblog and commented saying ehhh I don’t remember, something along the lines of not feeling like I was being very kind and that he was trying his best. also I think he said I had accused him of being racist? which again the actual Tumblr post literally just said I thought his art and persona came across as juvenile and I think in the tags? I mentioned that I thought it was time for him to step off the Kapoor beef. 

then he screencapped my post, including my profile picture and username, and posted it on all his socials with a kind of :( people are so mean on Tumblr :( caption and um

idk if you know this about Being A Public Persona With Tens Of Thousands of Followers but. if you post someone’s identity and say ‘I do not like what this person is doing’ it. can get messy fast.

uh I don’t follow Stuart Semple (see the original post I made) but he commented to make sure I knew he’d posted my post on Instagram and “all my followers like your wig :)” which. according to my partner who did go and look at the time, the Instagram comments were largely about how I was an ugly non-passing trans woman aka “man in a wig” which. throw the whole suitcase out. There were a good few days where I got a lot of angry anons, ranging from ‘stop bullying Stuart Semple!!!!!’ to ‘die in a ditch graphically’ to ‘how can you claim to have opinions on art when You Are On Tumblr’ (I have been a freelance illustrator for 7 years and I have a Masters in art and design) to ‘your art sucks and you’re fat and ugly’ and my personal favourite ‘how can u be cis and use she/her pronouns you dumb snowflake’

(within that furore was a whole branch where someone was like ‘sex worker huh bet you’re bad at it’ and I was like ‘yep! that’s why I don’t do it any more! it’s hard work and it involves a lot of self-promotion and customer skills which I don’t like and am not good at!’ and this was a Whole Thing where they kept trying to insult me (much like today’s anon) about my supposed failures as a Slut Who Is Bad At Sex and I kept going like ‘ok but here’s how that just. doesn’t make sense in reference to what sex work actually is so like, ok?’)

and Stuart Semple and I were also having a conversation which, depending on your perspective I would call his attitude either conciliatory or passive-aggressive, there was a lot of ‘me and my followers would never say rude things about you :) keep up the art kiddo :)’ and being charitable I would say he was trying to be nice while being angry, and to avoid escalating (but with the added context I got later about the wig comment, I think that interpretation of his behaviour maybe. has some cracks?) and ultimately he took down the posts, we had a brief conversation about keeping pet reptiles (apparently he has a lizard) and we left it on, if not good terms, at least peaceable ones. 

however I still periodically get messages about it from angry Semple stans. and I’m not sure the argument was resolved, in that I still very much think it’s fair to make criticism, including quite harsh criticism (which I’m not sure ‘adolescent’ is), on art which is put out for public display and enjoyment, and that it isn’t a personal attack to post a criticism of someone’s public-facing work and statements on social media unless you actively target it towards them (for example, @ ing them), and Semple still thinks there’s no difference between a random blog with under a thousand followers criticising a public figure’s work and a public figure with 100k followers on most platforms criticising that blog (out of context - he clipped out the post I was reblogging from and my explanatory tags, and looking at my blog you may notice that 90% of my nuance is in the tags) while giving his followers all the information to find said blog.

(also as multiple people have remarked. if you want to say it’s an unfair criticism to call your online presence immature, being a middle-aged artist who as far as I can tell has a net worth over a million who spends your time name searching yourself in order to get mad at untagged mild criticism from strangers on the internet and share it on all your socials for your followers to join you in Being Big Mad is uhhhhhhh. it uh. it’s not like. not super thin-skinned and immature)

(also also I just googled his net worth and unsurprisingly I can’t find a source on it I’d consider reliable, but I did find multiple articles about him getting in trouble for breach of contract and nonpayment for gallery employees, including two accusations of him writing a big defensive blog post then changing it after a few hours to a very short post saying I LOVE YOU so like idk how true that is but it does seem. consistent with the above interactions.)