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Hi Alen! I had an acquaintance of mine on Twitter ask where one of your Spirk pieces was -- the one with Jim is kissing Spock's back. I searched your socials and couldn't find it (btw, you're an incredible artist, I had to stop and admire your Merther pieces). If you could show me where I can find it I would be thankful. But if you have already been asked about this, or intentionally deleted it and do not want to be asked about it, I completely understand and you reserve the right to your privacy. Have an amazing day! <3

Found it if this is the one!! It's probably went online untagged, so it's all good

And thank you for the incredibly kind words 🖤🖤😭

He's so silly actually

Elias laughs and the sound of it isn't unkind. Jon isn't sure why he expects it to be. It's somewhat pleasant, actually, to see his shoulders shake undone, forehead pressed to the roof of the car.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Elias waves him off and straightens up with a smile that gets his face all crinkled up. It's a lot of fine lines, a lot more under the unforgiving streetlights than what Jon is used to. It makes him seem more articulated, somehow. Less of a, what is it that Sasha keeps calling him, Walt Disney's frozen head?

"Not at all. You are one peculiar man, Jonathan."

Jon, he wants to correct, but doesn't know if it's appropriate — they're not really on the first name basis, are they. Elias is, sure. Was, from the very start, but the "Elias" in question never actually slips past Jon's head. So, instead, he finds the logo on the bumper very noteworthy.

"Cadillac," Elias suggests and now Jon scoffs himself.

"Are you showing off?"

Elias bops his head in a touché kind of way and scratches at his brow with a thumb carefully stuck away from the burning cigarette. "You looked like you were about to ask."

"It's just my face."

"Oh, I know."

Jon buries his freezing fingers into the coat's pockets and joins him, pressing a hip to the cold metal. Elias offers his portsigar in that sickeningly polite manner of his and Jon grabs a smoke for himself without thinking it through, mainly because he feels awkward standing empty handed. Something about them and the deserted Tesco parking lot does feel extremely inappropriate, now that he thinks about it with a cold cleared head.

Elias squints at his scrambling. "Are you uncomfortable?"

As he pockets for his lighter, Jon actually contemplates his answer. Elias doesn't rush, but does, however, mirror his stance so they end up face-to-face.

"No, I suppose," Jon clicks the wheel and takes a drag. "Are you uncomfortable?"

Cranks his head a bit and tries to roll something on his tongue along with the smoke. "Do I make you uncomfortable, Elias?"

He looks at him then, really looks at him, so prolonged and heated Jon feels like he might break sweat. But then the gaze slips somewhere above his shoulder and Elias smiles to himself as if remembering a joke.

"Somewhat, yes."

"Unfortunate."

"Not at all."

When Elias reaches out to him after a moment of silence, Jon isn't really surprised. He's not good at this but god knows he isn't entirely lost in clues, not when it comes to someone as blunt as Elias. It leaves him soured, really, the momentary rush of anxiety and disappointment. He takes a deep breath, preparing to say his best collected good-byes.

Elias runs his fingers gently along his clenched fist, so much so that Jon trails off with a stupidly hanging mouth. The nails, somewhat long and polished, scrape his dry skin up the sleeve and slip to the underside, following the veins with just their pointy tips. Jon makes a noise he's terrified to hear as his hand opens involuntarily. Elias holds it like he has held Jon's hand a million times before, like he watched it weather through the years just alongside his own, like he pressed kisses and whispered prayers into his palms. He holds it like he knows it, turning it over towards the dimm light above them.

Jon stares at his own clipper laying now cradled. Elias points a finger, connects the moles on his wrist and draws a thoughtful line to the cheap plastic, eventually tracing the pixelated design. The eye stares back at them.

"Let me drive you home, Jon."

Jon can't breathe for some reason.

"Wha..."

"You seem tired."

hey sorry are you an anti?? just because i'll have to unfollow :// yall make a lil bit uncomfortable, sorry

Listen in absolutely /nm tone I still don't fully understand the criteria for the anti-pro thing and I don't really want to. Fictional dead dove out of my comfort is dead dove for a reason, I do not touch it, look it up or engage with it in any way. Whatever stuff people want to do in their bubble, not my business at all unless they get unnecessarily mean

Only thing that I do not stomach in any way is sexual content with kids. Fictional pedophilia is still pedophilia to me and if anyone following me is engaging with that type of content please just block me yourself, I point it out every other month, I'm really not tolerant about it

Other than that, idk, I might block you if I see your content and it makes me uncomfortable to curate my space but I don't really care enough for much else/gen

Caved in a little bit

Gathering references to do like a little MOR reimagining in my style and taste this is going to go so hard

🎶pirates on a boat🎶pirates on a boat🎶

Me and the devil

Punkflower spider-man kiss prompt but it's not actually a kiss. It's Miles chasing Hobie down across some impossible structure where every surface has its own plane of existence, it's own directon, and Miles can't see anything but Hobie's back no matter how fast he goes. They're talking and keep walking and keep missing each other and Miles gets so frustrated and anxious right up until they're suddenly nose to nose, Miles taking a turn on his "ground" and Hobie taking a turn on his, upside down, right above. It's startling and Miles almost steps back but Hobie just bows his head forward, calm and quiet, and bumps their foreheads together

And they just

Freeze like that for seconds, maybe minutes, Miles leaning in with closed eyes and Hobie holding his head even closer

With no purpose, really, just existing then and there