#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction.

[efoyisk]

   the shock is clear.   perhaps not to just about anyone—loki can’t be sure who would be able to see it, but he definitely does.   in the widening of mobius’s eyes to the quickening sharpness of his breathing.   his stomach twists into a pulsing knot—oh it’s been… forever since he has last felt anything other than a buzzing void.   he hardly remembers what anxiousness feels like but now he recalls it perfectly.   the tightness in his throat and the wetness in his eyes, the itch on the back of his left palm but also the inside of his right, which can never be satisfied.

  no, loki thinks.   no, don’t look away from me.

  “i know this may sound strange—” loki retorts, cringes inside his head as he purses his lips, swallows down.   how many times has he said that by now?

  “you seem well dressed,” loki notes with a look down at mobius’s clothes, his half-made tie that is, once again, crooked loki feels an urge to reach out, fix it, but he doesn’t.   “may i come in?” loki does not entertain his usual stance.   he does not keep his spine straight or his shoulders back, no—he’s almost slouching in his attempt to lower himself, perhaps, come to mobius’s level, catch a glimpse of those grey eyes.   “have you got time?” again.   how many times will he ask for that?   how many times will he plead for a few minutes?   a few seconds?   a few centuries to make the impossible possible?   no matter.   all that has been done.

  loki purses his lips and takes a step closer, though does not cross the threshold of mobius’s home.   “mobius, please.   i—i can explain.   i swear.” a beat.   loki feels his heart rising to his throat, suffocating him, urging him to choke out all the blood from inside his ancient body. so many weeks trailing by mobius's shadow. all this time and only now, only a few minutes in his immediate vicinity, does life properly pulse inside loki's head.   “trust me.” 

continued with @mobiues from here.

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #dynamics. ⠀i could recognize him by touch alone by smell; i would know him blind by the way his breaths came⠀⠀━⠀⠀ mobiues. #theyre just 🤏 #tw loki season 2 spoilers #tw loki spoilers

[efoyisk]

❛ i'm somewhere outside my life. i keep scratching but somehow i can't get in. ❜ :)

   his chest swells with a scorching sensation, stealing his breath from his lungs, rising the numbing needling of bile to the back of his throat.   “none of you can,” comes loki’s response.   not to deter mobius—but to remind him it isn’t his fault.   that it can’t be helped by simply focusing hard enough.   heavens know what tricks were concocted to scramble mobius’s mind;   and a million other heads.   though at the moment, loki was concerned about this specific one.   he did not enjoy seeing this solemn look on mobius’s face.   perhaps he’d not allow his dismay to show, perhaps he’d shrug it off as though it has left him unaffected—but it’s easy to tell.   this isn’t just bitter curiosity.   it hurts him.

  “mobius.” loki’s hand reaches out, unabashed, to drape over the agent’s.   squeeze, gently.   “say the word and we shall find it all.   we could—find who you were, on the timeline.   or perhaps we could—” loki pauses.   wets his lips, cautious.   his voice lowers, his other hand holding higher, onto mobius’s wrist.   “i could… look for it, inside your head, if you’d let me.   if that’s something you want.   you don’t have to stay here, mobius, i told you before you did have a life.   you could have had a family.” loki pauses then, gulps, hard.   he shan’t say what he has seen.   “you could look for them.   i’d help you.” 

hozier lyrics.

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #dynamics. ⠀i could recognize him by touch alone by smell; i would know him blind by the way his breaths came⠀⠀━⠀⠀ mobiues. #just leavin a lil easter egg for you there #take it as you will <3

[efoyisk]

                                    @executiioner liked for a starter

   shame is all he feels, but little care to ask for forgiveness.   the mere thought claws at his neck and forces his fingers to tremble, heart palpating in such a painful manner that the trickster is certain his ribs shatter.   an unfeasible thing, of course, though nonetheless fearful.   perhaps he shouldn’t have come at all.   falling on one’s knees and begging for absolution was simply not enough.   it would have never been enough for him, had somebody done to loki what he had done to anita.

  though humans operate on the hastiness their lifespans demand and thus, loki hopes—prays—that anita may be inclined to, if not forgive him, at least not attack him. give an acknowledging look and be on her way.

  and so the trickster lingered outside anita’s building, tirelessly leaned against a lamppost, expecting her to emerge from her apartment.   loki had patience.   he could wait.   he had a lot more time on his hands that she ever would.   he’d wait.   it took hours before he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rising.   goosebumps crawled down his spine into an impossible shiver.

  a few moments later, the agent stepped outside the front door and loki was there to greet her with nothing but a careful look, chin dipped in, face somehow lowered—his only way to ask for patience.   “anita.” 

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #executiioner #we've never gone this far i dont think so #😈 some time post their big fight?? #awkward and strange??

[efoyisk]

                                              @executiioner liked for a starter<3

   “i struggle to believe you always wished to be this country’s lap dog.   and there must be greater careers for a necromancer to pursue.” loki sat crammed in the passenger’s seat, staring ahead at the door he was so eagerly wishing would open.   he had offered something oh so convenient;   none can lie whilst his magic filters through their brains.   they’d take all the information they needed, without their suspect remembering a thing.   and most importantly, they’d not need wait for her to lead them to her master.   boss, whatever.

  “see, it somehow does not align with this headstrong, stubborn woman i’ve come to know.   how is it you’ve settled for a role befitting of a servant?” perhaps he was assuming too much, hoping for too much.   sometimes great rivers require surveillance.   to be drained here, to be guided through a canal there.   guilt grows easier through the cracks of independence.   each and every mistake is nobody’s but yours.   though when you answer to someone behind a desk, perhaps you can sleep easier at night.

  “you could have been a magician of your own.   your re-animation act would have surely been the crowd’s favourite.”

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #executiioner #i did what i could bestie #mayhaps this is early in their acquaintance 🤔

[efoyisk]

                                              @otvechet liked for a starter ✨

   from what she hears, one does not feel at particular ease around this human.   naturally, she understands why.   there are few inviting traits about him, if any.   despite his greatest efforts the air about him hangs heavy, poisonous.   and yet loki does not feel as though she must watch his every word, hold the reins as tightly as she usually does;   for the mere fact—or rather assumption—that james has no interest in using whatever loki says against her. perhaps he'd argue, but there was only this much he could do. never had they been enemies; loki'd like to assume they'd never have to be.   that brings about an ease of mind.   there was little to be afraid of.   perhaps that metal arm of his could shatter loki’s bones into pellets, sure, but he wouldn’t be quick enough.   one touch was enough to take them many, many years ago.   painful memories, oh, how convenient they are in times of danger.

  “he wore the stupidest costume,” she gently swirled his low glass around an imaginary circle atop the wooden table.   “your friend.   rogers.   and very uncomfortable, mind you, but that’d matter little if it were somewhat flattering, no?   well, i suppose he can’t make such errors anymore.”

for she hears the retired now captain is… lounging on the moon?   odd choice of residence. undoubtedly barren.

  loki’s eyes travelled to the soldier’s face.   she were treading on uncertain ground, she’d assume.   yet she could not help but walk forth anyway.   ease came laced with curiosity.   “do you miss him?”  

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #otvechet #what are they doing?? #i dont know #nobody knows

[efoyisk]

                                                 @greatrspnsibility gets a starter for korg!

   there are only two explanations he can find.   one, evolution.   some mechanism of nature, one chunk of a cycle, survival taking odd form.   the other, and closer to his expertise, is of course magic.

  many a time he’s thought of summoning his very own golem or… other sort of elementa to do his bidding, when he can’t trick someone else into doing it.

  but if they were golems, who made them?   some many years ago, one great sorcerer must have imbued them with some sliver of sentience.   after all how do rocks reproduce?   he’d assume they do not, not in any way which would make sense.   he could excuse senselessness in magic but nature?   so perhaps, yes, one smart spell must have granted them this insight and capability of perception for the world.   perhaps, they’ve even been granted the ability to pass it on.   though who could hold the answer to his questions?

  “what do you find so fascinating about video games?” the trickster god asked, perched on an uncomfortable chair, sitting even more uncomfortably with one leg crossed over the  other, his chin pressed against his curled fingers, left elbow resting on his right wrist.   

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #greatrspnsibility #this is a lil goofy i know

[efoyisk]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀@executiioner​ sent ❛ Some things are more important than whether you can win. ❜, accepting.

   the ever honorable anita blake.   no amount of surprise is stirred by her words.   “truly?”   the trickster leaned against her seat, fingers laced atop her lap.   she held her spine straight as ever.   the two of them, no matter whatever value they had in each other, whatever friendship blossomed between them, there would always be parts of them that fundamentally ground together.   they valued different things and sought different pleasures.   regardless of it, they always held respect for one another.   yet oftentimes, loki could not see eye to eye with her.

  “whatever could weigh lower than victory on anybody’s scale then, anita?”   

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #executiioner #told you

[efoyisk]

                                                    @auuteur​ sent    ❝   i used to have so much faith.  maybe not in deities or something but,  in the world.  the universe.  i believed there was a purpose to it all.  i’m not sure when i lost that.   ❞      from christine palmer.

   purpose.   the word itself had grown laughable to him.   both in a liberating and despairing manner.   chaos was the glory of life and yet, sometimes, it serves as its own executioner, deems everything entirely meaningless.   pointless.   and up until now, yes, there was no value to one’s own actions or thoughts, for all were puppets to the hand of a single man sitting above the sky.   they all followed his plan, whatever it was.   now that they had rid themselves of him—what now?

   “existence has always been a point of interest for your people.”   loki lounged on a chair, one leg crossed over the other, slender hands resting on his lap.   his turmoil did not bleed into his expression.   no, he was calm as ever.   “do you mean to surpass the philosophers, doctor palmer, or is it words of encouragement that you seek?”   

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #auuteur

[efoyisk]

                                                    @synthized​​​ sent   ❝  every time you smile at me,  i memorize it.  i remember each moment that i get to be the one to bring out that light inside you.  no matter what happens between us,  that’s what i will remember.   ❞     from sin, accepting!

   how odd it is, to receive something you’ve longed for years and decades and centuries though when it finally meets you, you feel exposed to the bone.   like your skin and muscles have all melted away, your organs too, all except for your skeleton and nerves, quivering in the faintest of breezes that go past.   as though vengeful lightning strikes you down and you felt on grass, to be absorbed by the soil.   why is kindness such a devastating gift?   perhaps because it’s fleeting.

   cruelty and violence, they mark you permanently, never allowing your mind a moment of forgetfulness but kindness, it’s a lot more elusive.   gentle words accumulate and come to perch on the stakes of your memory only when the weather allows them to be recalled.

   “truly?”   sinister has never been a liar.   not once before has loki detected any hint of dishonesty, of untrustworthiness.   and yet, the silvertongue cannot help, but allow doubt to raise defensive walls out of instinct, muscle memory.   oftentimes, loki ponders that he crafted his isolation for himself.   he is alone because he chose it, because he needed it.   one may come across wonders in the wild forests but it’s the thick walls of castles which protect you.

   “i’d hate to doubt the nobility of which you are capable, sin.”   the jotun scouted closer, propping an elbow on his crossed knee, resting his chin inside his palm.   a detail seemed to sprout each time  loki stared at the cyborg.   a new mole here, a crease there.   little flaws to betray a dual nature, much like his own.

   “though were i to shatter your poor metal heart into a million tiny pieces, would you not wish to bash my face into the concrete?   or will you sate your anger with those bright moments instead?” 

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #synthized #i loved writing this thank you

[efoyisk]

                                                                           @synthized​​ sent ‘ have you eaten anything today? ’  from sin, accepting!

   how the sorcerer longed for the cooking of the gold realm.   conjuring doesn’t quite hold the same content as waiting for your plate to be served, as watching your cup be filled.   it’s all one conscious decision and despite the seemingly no difference in taste, or texture, loki has been dining on his own spells long enough to tell the difference.

   “why?”   sprawled on a couch loki stretched his legs out, right ankle crossed over the right.   this world was… suffocating.   burdened greatly, shoulders crushed.   though the jotun would not deny it, neon lights had their charm.   “ is my nutritional intake of such great importance to you?”   he flipped to the next page of the book he was reading.   it was his own book, conjured from the depths of his pocket dimension.   it seemed to him libraries were not a priority on this plane.

   “rumour has it you are the one in need of constant consumption.”   loki wasn’t so far off himself.   with a body as heavy and dense as his, endless eating was nearly inevitable.   nothing a few words powered by universal essence couldn’t fix in time of need.   the book disappeared as loki closed it with a flourish.   he rested his forearm on the arm of the couch behind his back, so as to face the cyborg with half-lidded eyes and a ghost of an amused curve on his lips.   “am i now to receive an invitation for dinner beneath a window facing falling stars?” 

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #synthized #he's in a silly goofy mood #always

[efoyisk]

“i thought perhaps you would like a treat,” the trickster sets down a plate with a single slice of key lime pie, a spoon on the side, before taking a seat opposite of the agent as he so often does. loki does reach out, however, to take a look at one of the various papers piled up on the desk. hm. variants, destruction, variants. a cat eating a neighboor's pet bird? “how fascinating,” he murmurs, putting the file back in its folder before lacing his fingers together atop his lap.

loki has little intention of striking conversation. sometimes, with mobius, it's not necessary. still, the mobius tackles loki's attention and his eyes wander to the agent, to the soft curve of his lips, the gentle gleam of his eyes and a grin is quick to twitch onto loki's lips as well, however faint.

“ah, do you feel particularly seduced by lime pie? i was under the impression that charming you would require more sophisticated effort.”

continued with @mobiues from here.

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #dynamics. ⠀i could recognize him by touch alone by smell; i would know him blind by the way his breaths came⠀⠀━⠀⠀ mobiues. #im sorry bella but theyre gonna fail the challenge #moment of silence

[efoyisk]

❛  i know that you hate this place.  ❜

   “hate it is a weak word,” came the sorcerer’s response whilst he stared at the headquarters of S.W.O.R.D.   they had given their… statement.   if one could even call it as such.   loki was the perfect image of tranquillity;   spine straight, smartly dressed in black, not a single hair out of its spiral place.   all was as it should;   except for the narrowing of his eyes.   he could, indeed, tear down those walls with a gaze—but he was certain anita would not forgive him for it.   and now was not the time to bicker over tumbled over bricks.   as sweet as divinely inflicted punishment is.

  “do you not hate it?” scoffed he, at least turning around to walk away.   a portal to her home was indeed far more convenient but, loki found himself in dire need of an outlet to direct his frustration into.   walking seemed to be the only available option at the time.   “how many times has this happened?” he briefly looked at the woman, slowing down his pace so that she’d step ahead and he could instead reposition himself on her left side, on the outer part of the pavement they trod through.   “how can you let them snuff away your work?   to be praised for what you've dirtied your hands to achieve?” it was infuriating.   to see her—not docile, but accepting of such injustice.   anita, who relentlessly stepped her foot down for the integrity of other individuals who would not care to thank her.   here she was, allowing others to rub their boots into her face.   he could not accept it.

  “i swear by jotunheim’s ancient—i will say everything.   your people have succeeded in one thing and it is the spread of information.” the trickster halted then, turning to face the woman.   “i ask you for one good reason why i should not.” 

hozier lyrics

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #SOCHIE #FEEL FREE TO CONTINUE THIS IF YOU WANT #also bear with me i gotta make new icons

[efoyisk]

   no there isn’t, is there?   thinks the trickster, a sick sensation swelling in his chest as he forces a slow exhale through his nose.   he’d truly rather mobius maintained his skin.   he’d rather he maintained all of him, in fact.   skin, bones, mind, memories.   seeing lack of recognition in the picture of his eyes was… maddening, really.   though there’s quite a lot mobius has actually forgotten.   nay, there’s quite a lot that has been taken from mobius’s memory.   there’s got to be a way to get to it.   loki will find that.   without having to look around his mind, preferably, he’d assume.   yes, that’d be good.   a proper gift of gratitude.   words can only do so much.   he could give him back what has been lost, right?   after—once pressing matters have been resolved.   once time isn’t pressing into his rib cage.   once he can direct his attention properly.   there are too many fronts open, even for him.

  his skin crawls with needles from his scalp down to his suffocated toes, rippling on the padding of his fingertips.   it only stops when the time agent’s hand  settles on his arm, grounding him.   loki’s own hand is quick to turn, reach up, hold onto the outer side of mobius’s forearm as he shakes his head, then nods.   “it’s fine.   i’m alright, mobius—do not ignore what i’m telling you.” he is well aware mobius would not—still.   loki  needs him to know.   he doesn’t want it to be valued, though stored away.   he needs it—to be understood, properly.

  he retracts then, tension furrowing his brows together.   “yes but she might need help,” loki says, though the analyst does not leave room for objection.   yet, loki resists, proud.   “i don’t—need to be looked at, do you think i’m a child?” his body will knead itself back together as it always has.   although—he does still feel a sharp pinch on his right arm.   and so loki heaves, pliable, shoulder sulking as he takes a proper look down at himself.   by the heavens he looks as though he crawled out of a grave.   he can feel dirt under his nails.   now that he focuses on it, his mouth does feel dry.   no matter.   a meal takes time, he has fat to burn.   he could do with some water, though.

  “he had been eating an apple,” loki commented, carefully slipping off the sheathe he had conjured onto his shoulders.   “i wouldn’t know to tell you how he got it, if you asked.   now a pair of clean clothes doesn’t sound so bad but—can we do something about this first?” he rolled his sleeve higher, to expose skin smeared with dried blood, stiff scabs, and a thin lash that was desperately trying to knit back muscle and skin.   “it hasn’t healed properly.” he supposes slipping through time inflicts more than pain.   which he can handle, that is, but inside the tva, he can’t do as little as cast a spell to accelerate regeneration.

continued with @mobiues from here

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #dynamics. ⠀i could recognize him by touch alone by smell; i would know him blind by the way his breaths came⠀⠀━⠀⠀ mobiues. #YOU THOUGHT I'D NOT REPLY??

[efoyisk]

                                                    @sundragin​ sent    ❝   have you ever had something…missing?  like something just doesn’t feel right inside you but you don’t know what it is.    ❞    accepting!

   “have you?”   loki couldn’t remember a moment in his life when he didn’t feel that way.   perhaps when he was too young to remember, too young to think or feel.   although, now that he was old and contemplative, he knew exactly what he was missing.   or rather, the rest of the world thought they knew and didn’t allow him to forget.   perhaps he adopted those traits, or perhaps they had always been right.   perhaps both were correct and there was no separation between who he is and who people assume him to be.

   “do you not feel whole?   is there a gap inside your heart pouring with freezing air?” 

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #sundragin #thought i should keep the whole setting a lil vague #till we sort something out yknow

[efoyisk]

                                                    @atimebomb​​ sent   "Going home isn't an option anymore."  from brunnhilde

   “no.”   what is home, anyway?   is it the walls?   the square?   the familiar faces you see when you walk through the corridors?   is it the moons which rise flawlessly each night, or the sun which chases them away come morning?   is it the silk sheets that smell like absolutely you?   is it the childhood drawing you’ve hid at the bottom of your bedside table?   is it the lectures of loved ones?   is it their embrace?

   is home immovable or do you find it in people?   in places of safety?   loki couldn’t recall any of the latter but the former—why yes, there was a certain embrace she could call home.   warm, welcoming, a spot always for her.   “it isn’t.   nor is reversing time, brunnhilde.”   the trickster averted her gaze from the expansive sea and instead focused on the very last of the valkyries.   there was no taunting hue, no mocking crease around her lips.

   “you’ve got to find home right here.   on this very cliff, if you must.”   you.   she, whomever was left of the asgardians.   not loki, though.   asgard had never been home, never truly.   new asgard wouldn’t be anything different;   not because it was impossible, but because loki was desperate to turn a new page.   perhaps this time, she would succeed.   “though you shan’t carry those bricks alone.”

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #atimebomb

[efoyisk]

                                                                            @atimebomb​ sent 💬  from Sam, accepting!

   never before did the god of mischief believe there was the slightest of chances to receive a… pep talk, as they were called.   he had had his fair share of lectures, were it by frigga the queen, or the allfather himself.   albeit, the latter often involved more yelling.   though they all had the same meeting point—kindness.   honor.   decency.   goodness.   traits and ambitions loki did not share;   neither with the asgardians, nor the new captain america.   or the old one, for that matter.

   “i am too old to start again.   am i to scrape a thousand years of my life and begin anew as a babe born again?   i somehow doubt it even possible.”   well.   perhaps it’d be possible, with an enormous amount of power woven into potent spells.   however, was it worthy?   no.   far too many minds to mess with, one too long a history.   oftentimes you ought to make do with what you already have in your hands.

   “tell me, do i look my age?   i fear the climate here is getting to me.   have none of you found a way to reduce pollution on this poor planet?” 

#` ‧ ° ❅⠀⠀◟ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄◝⠀⠀━⠀⠀ interaction. #atimebomb #it was unnecessarily hard to find one that fit #geez