14 Emojis & Text

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 14 Hanna wipes her eyes, her voice shaky. "I-I think I should go," she says. Karen stands up, rushing over to her. "No, wait. What happened?" she asks, her concern evident. Hanna sniffs, trying to compose herself. "He just... he doesn't want me here," she manages. Karen's face falls. "I'm sorry," she says, taking Hanna's hand. "He's just in a lot of pain. I know he can be difficult," she says gently. "But he's just scared and frustrated." Hanna nods, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I know," she says. "But I can't help if he won't let me in." Karen sighs, squeezing her hand. "Give him some time," she advises. "You are staying with us, and we all outta try getting along. I'll go and check on him." With a nod, Hanna releases Karen's hand and sits back down, her thoughts racing. She wonders if she's overstepped or if Plankton will ever accept her help. The silence in the room stretches out, filled only with the ticking of a clock on the wall. Meanwhile, Karen goes to their bedroom door. "Plankton?" she calls out softly. "Can I come in?" There's no answer at first, just the sound of his ragged breathing. She opens the door slowly, finding him sitting on the bed. His antennae are drooped and his eye is red-rimmed. "What?" he says, his voice harsher than he intended. Karen sighs, sitting down beside him. "Hanna's upset," she says simply. Plankton looks away, his antennae twitching. "Good," he says, his tone still icy. "I don't want her here." Karen sighs. "You know she's only trying to help," she says. "And she's not the only one. We all are." Plankton's antennae drop further. "I don't want any of this," he says, his voice smaller. "I don't want to be the one who needs help." Karen sighs, placing a hand on his arm. "But you do," she says gently. "And that's not a bad thing. How's the leg feeling?" Plankton glowers but doesn't pull away. "It hurts," he admits. Karen nods. "I'll get your meds," she says. When she returns, she finds Plankton still sitting there, his gaze fixed on his cast. "Here," she says, handing him the pill bottle. He takes them without a word, swallowing them quickly. Karen sits back down next to him. "You know, sometimes letting people in can make the hard times easier," she says. "Yet it's also fine if you'd like space." She kisses his forehead. "Now, rest.." Plankton's antennae lift slightly. "I don't want to be alone," he admits, his voice barely a whisper. Karen's eyes widen slightly, surprised by his vulnerability. "You don't have to be," she says, taking his hand. "We're all here for you." They sit in silence for a few moments, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. Then, with a sigh, Plankton leans into her, his antennae drooping against her shoulder. "Thank you," he whispers. Karen wraps an arm around him, pulling him closer. "You're welcome," she murmurs. "We're a team." As they sit there, the tension in Plankton's body gradually eases, his breathing slowing down. Karen feels his grip on her hand loosen, his eyelid flicker closed. The fight drains out of him, and he surrenders to sleep. Karen shifts, so he's more comfortable, pulling a blanket over his cast-covered leg. The soft fabric slides over the plaster, and she tucks him in. When she returns to the living room, Hanna's eyes are still red, but she's composed herself. "Is he okay?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. Karen nods, sitting beside her. "He's asleep," she says. "But he's...going through a lot." Hanna nods, her own eyes welling up again. "What can I do to help?" she asks. Karen looks at her, her gaze thoughtful. "Just be patient with him," she advises. "He's not used to being dependent on others." Hanna nods, taking a deep breath. "Okay," she says. "How do you think I can be of help?" Karen smiles. "Just be there," she says. "And maybe find something that doesn't involve...babying him." Hanna nods determinedly. Later, Plankton wakes up, emerging out to the living room where Karen and Hanna sat, hobbling as he navigates with his crutches. "What are we watching?" he asks, his tone softer. They're on the couch, a movie playing on the TV, their heads close together as they whisper about the plot. Karen looks up, her smile genuine. "Just a little something to pass the time," she says, patting the cushion next to Hanna. "You wanna join?" Plankton hesitates, his antennae twitching. Then, with a sigh, he nods, moving towards them. Hanna looks up at him, her smile slightly tentative. "It's an adventure film," she says. "It's got a little of everything." Plankton eases himself onto the couch, his cast thumping against the cushions. He sits between them, his crutches propped against the side. Hanna's eyes dart to him before returning quickly to the television. Karen gives him a side hug, her hand resting comfortably on his shoulder. "Thanks," he murmurs. The film plays, and they sit in relative quiet, the occasional laugh or gasp filling the room. Hanna glances at him every so often. During a particularly intense scene, she reaches for the bowl of popcorn. "Want some?" she asks quietly. Plankton nods, extending his arm. She carefully picks out a few kernels, placing them in his hand. The gesture is small, but it feels like a peace offering. He munches on them, his gaze still on the screen, but his antennae relaxing. Karen notices the ease in the atmosphere and smiles to herself. Maybe this was what they needed, she thinks. As the credits roll, Hanna jumps up, her expression hopeful. "How about we play a game?" she suggests, her voice careful not to disrupt the peace. Plankton looks at her, his eye assessing. "What kind of game?" he asks, his voice still guarded. Hanna stands up. "How about something easy?" she says. "Like charades? It'll keep us entertained without being too strenuous for Plankto-" "I can still think, you know," Plankton snaps, his antennae waving in irritation. Hanna's smile falters, but she nods. "Of course," she says. "It's just that I don't wa-" "To sit around doing nothing," he finishes for her. "I know, I know. You just think it's all fun and games." Hanna swallows her retort, nodding. "Okay, I get it," she says. "How about something else? Maybe a puzzle?" Karen interjects, sensing the tension. "That sounds like a great idea," she says brightly. "Let's all do it together on the floor." With a grumble, Plankton starts to stand, using his crutches to balance his weight. Hanna quickly moves to his side, offering her arm for support. He glares at her. "I can do it myself," he snaps. Karen watches them, a smile tugging at her lips. "It's okay," she says, picking up a puzzle box from the coffee table. "Let's just get started." Plankton lowers himself to the floor, setting the crutches down. He grimaces, his leg muscles protesting as he shifts his weight to his good side. Using his arms for leverage, he crawls over to the space they've cleared for the puzzle. Hanna watches, worry etched on her face. "Do you want me to help? Here, le-" "I've got it," Plankton says quickly, cutting her off. He doesn't want to admit how much the simple act of getting to the floor has exhausted him. His pride won't allow it. With a grunt, he reaches the puzzle area and flops down, his cast scraping against the carpet. Karen sets the box down, her eyes filled with concern. "Are you sure you're okay?" Hanna asks. "I said I've got it," he repeats, his voice firm. He grabs a puzzle piece, his small hands shaking slightly as he tries to fit it into place. Hanna opens her mouth to protest, but Karen gives her a look, silencing her. They watch as Plankton struggles, his face contorted with effort. His leg feels like a dead weight, but he refuses to show.

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DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 14 𝖠𝗎𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗋'𝗌 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝖭𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝘐 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘵. 𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘮 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘐 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐'𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘥𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴. 𝘚𝘰 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘮 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘺. 𝘞𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘩, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶. ( emojicombos.com/neurofabulous ) The three of them sit in silence for a moment, the only sound the echoes of Plankton's ragged breathing. Then, Karen clears her throat, her voice calm but firm. "Chip, can you help me get your dad to his bed?" Chip nods. "Yeah, sure," he says, his voice still shaky, as Plankton's still on his side. He moves closer, his hand hovering over his dad's shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch, his body tense. How does he touch his dad without causing more pain? Karen notices his uncertainty and nods reassuringly. "Just be gentle," she says, her voice a whisper. "And watch his cues." Chip's hand descends slowly... As his fingertips graze Plankton's skin, he flinches, his eye darting around the room. "Easy, Dad," Chip says, his voice gentle. His hand lingers, seeking the right balance between support and respect. Plankton's body tenses, despite realizing Chip's intent. Karen watches. She knows the fear behind Plankton's flinch, the years of pain and misunderstanding that have shaped their dance of affection. She offers a nod, silently encouraging Chip to persist. With trembling hands, Chip slides his arm under Plankton's. Karen's own arms wrap around Plankton's shoulders, completing the circle of support. Plankton's eye meets Karen's, his fear a stark reminder of the invisible walls his autism has built. But in her gaze, he sees love, not just pity— understanding, not judgment. With a deep breath, he allows them to help him to his feet, his legs wobbly with the aftermath of his seizure. Karen's grip is firm but gentle, her eyes speaking volumes without a word. Chip's hand is a tentative question mark, hovering near Plankton's shoulder, seeking permission to touch. Plankton's antennae quiver, his body tightening. He's overwhelmed, his skin a minefield of sensory input. The slightest touch feels like a storm raging in his head. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her voice a balm. "We're just going to help yo--" But Plankton's body jerks, his antennae flailing as if trying to ward off an invisible assailant. "No more!" he cries, his voice a shattered glass. "I can't!" Karen's heart clenches, her grip loosening as she pulls back. "It's okay, sweetie," she says, her voice a gentle breeze. "We'll get you to bed, that's al-" But Plankton's distress escalates, his antennae thrashing wildly. "NO!" he shrieks, his body rigid. "NO MORE!" Karen's heart squeezes, her grip on him loosening as she takes a step back, her eyes filled with pained empathy. "Shh, baby," she whispers, her voice a gentle caress. "We're not going to force you." Chip's eyes widen in fear, his hand retreating. "Dad," he says, his voice trembling. "It's okay, we're here to he-" But Plankton's panic is a wildfire, his movements erratic and unpredictable. Karen's eyes fill with concern, her voice calm. "Chip, let's just get him to the couch." They move as one, guiding Plankton's stumbling figure towards the sofa, their movements a delicate ballet of care and precision. The couch is a mere few feet away, a sanctuary of familiar fabric and scent. But to Plankton, it seems a mountain to climb, each step a battle against his own body. His antennae thrash wildly, his eye darting around the room as if seeking an escape. Karen and Chip move closer, their presence a comforting warmth. Their touch is gentle, a soft whisper of reassurance amidst his chaos. Yet, each step towards the couch feels like wading through thick, clinging mud. His legs wobble, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. Karen's grip is steady, her eyes never leaving his, a silent promise that they'll get through this. Chip's hand hovers, unsure, his heart racing with fear. He wants to help, but Plankton's flinch is a stark reminder of his own limitations. Karen's nod gives him the courage to reach out again, his touch a soft question. Plankton's body jerks. "I'm sorry," Chip whispers, his voice thick with regret. He's trying so hard to bridge the gap, to understand, but his efforts seem only to push his father further away. Karen's face is a mask of calm, but Chip can see the worry in the tight lines around her eyes. "Ca--" But the word dies in his throat as Plankton's body goes rigid, his eye rolling back, antennae freezing mid-thrash. His legs buckle, and he crumples onto the couch. Karen's eyes widen with fear, but her movements are swift and sure. She's seen this before, the aftermath of a seizure taking its toll. Chip's eyes are wide with shock, his hand still outstretched, trembling. "Dad," he whispers, his voice a prayer. "Are you okay?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye flickering open, a silent plea for understanding. The seizure's aftermath clings to his body like a damp fog, his limbs heavy with fatigue. Karen's hands are gentle on him, her movements measured. She knows his pain, his fear, and the thin line between love and overwhelm. "Chip," she says softly, turning to her son, "this is part of your dad's world. He needs his space, and we need to respect that." She sits beside Plankton, her hand on his back, feeling his erratic breaths. Plankton's antennae droop, his body a ragdoll's. "I'm s-sorry," he stammers, his voice weak. "I didn't mean to..." Chip's heart aches, his hand still hovering, trembling. "It's not your fault, Dad," he says, his voice tight with emotion. "It's just... hard to see you like this." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye focusing on his son's face. "I know," he whispers, his voice a confession of his own fears. "It's hard for me, too." His admission is a rare moment of vulnerability, a crack in the armor of his usual bravado. Chip nods, his eyes never leaving Plankton's. "I want to help," he says, his voice desperate. "But I don't know how." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye closing in exhaustion. "We'll learn together," Karen says, her voice a gentle guideline. "You don't have to have all the answers, Chip. Just be patient, and listen." Chip nods, his eyes still on Plankton's exhausted form. "I'll try," he murmurs, his voice filled with hope and uncertainty. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his eye fluttering open. "I know," he says, his voice a weary whisper. "It's... it's not easy." Karen's hand smooths over his back, her touch a gentle reminder of her presence. "We're here, Plankton," she says, her voice a soft promise. "We'll get through this together." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye still closed. "I know," he murmurs, his voice barely a breath. "I just... I can't bear the thought of being a burden." The words hang in the air, thick with his fear and doubt. Karen's hand pauses on his back, her eyes filling with sorrow. "You're not," she says, her voice firm. "You're my partner, my love." She takes his hand in hers, her thumb stroking his palm gently. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye fluttering open to meet hers. "But what if... what if I hurt you?" he asks, his voice a whisper of doubt. Karen's grip tightens, her eyes filled with determination. "You won't," she says, her voice a promise. "We're a team, Plankton. You're not alone in this." Her words are a gentle rebuke to his fears. "I'll find you a pillow and blanket for out here." As Karen goes back upstairs Chip inches to the couch. "Dad can I sit?" Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye still closed. "Yeah," he whispers, his voice a wisp of sound.

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣤⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀ ⢀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁ ⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠈⠛⠁⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⡻⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠤⠄⠀⠀⠀⠤⠄⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⠒⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠒⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠒⠉⠀⡠⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠴⠚⠒⠀⠀⠸⠦⢐⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⣤⣶⢠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢁⠔⡹⠋⠤⡀⣐⢂⠀⠈⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠲⣤⣯⣸⣿⣇⠲⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠌⢠⡣⠊⠔⠁⠀⠐⠀⠀⠱⠀⠀⠐⠝⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢳⣿⡁⠠⡄⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⠎⢠⡟⠁⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⣽⢑⢢⣰⢰⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡌⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠔⠋⡰⠹⣧⡗⠀⠀⢻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠰⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⡰⠁⠃⠹⡇⠀⠀⠀⢟⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠠⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡣⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠁⠀⠰⢀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⢱⠀⠀⠀ ⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠈⠳⣦⡀⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣳⣅⠀⡠⠊⠀⢠⠀⠀⡌⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣇⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠠⠖⡇⡗⠈⠉⠁⠀⠙⠷⣬⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡟⠁⡠⢂⠂⢀⢄⠅⣇⠃⠀⠀⠀⠈⢾⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⡀⠀⠀⡄⣼⡅⢀⡀⠀⣀⣤⣠⣤⣧⣀⢀⠀⠀⢸⡿⣯⡽⣦⠁⢀⠎⠘⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⢋⠀⡀⠋⢠⡇⠀⢠⣶⠻⠚⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⡻⡿⣿⠋⠀⠀⢸⢡⠍⠁⠳⣄⠌⡠⢡⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣄⢰⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⡏⢮⣆⢧⡤⠾⠧⠞⠑⠁⠀⠀⠰⠏⠘⣏⠙⠚⢃⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⣘⣆⠘⣴⢋⠜⣠⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⡟⡄⢇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣼⡇⣼⡿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠂⠒⠉⣎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠛⣡⣶⠗⡁⣼⡏⡜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠇⣿⠙⣼ ⠀⢱⢀⠀⠘⣽⣿⣿⣧⠘⣟⢻⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⣷⣶⢋⢔⣴⠟⢹⣰⠇⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⡏⠀⡇⣠⡟ ⢰⡸⢯⡆⢄⠈⢿⡊⢫⡑⠌⠗⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠁⣾⡇⠀⠀⢠⣿⢳⠎⣰⣁⠀⢸⡏⢰⠀⠀⠀⠱⡉⡃⢀⠟⠋⠀ ⠸⡇⠘⣿⢼⣶⡌⠓⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠜⠁⣷⠀⠀⢸⡏⢸⣾⡁⠀⠁⠈⣏⡀⠣⣦⣀⠑⢙⡧⡚⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡿⣤⣿⠹⡀⠁⠰⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⣠⡏⠀⠀⣾⠀⠀⡏⠋⢳⡀⠀⢿⡧⣤⣍⠑⠂⠤⣎⠟⠒⠀⠀ ⠀⠱⡄⢸⠀⡇⠀⠀⡀⠀⢸⡦⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡞⠁⢃⣠⢊⡜⠀⣀⡱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠓⠐⠋⠀⠠⠜⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⢾⡆⢱⢠⠀⠀⡄⢸⠁⠀⠈⠁⠐⠢⢄⣀⡤⠖⢺⣳⠏⠀⢚⠋⢀⣼⡗⠛⠉⠁⠙⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⠘⣜⣆⠀⢣⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣷⣶⠞⡟⡀⡾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣀⣿⠺⣄⣸⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⡜⣻⡻⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⣶⣿⡿⢷⡤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⢻⡄⢇⠈⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣯⣷⠀⠀⠀⣀⡠⠔⢬⣯⣞⣙⣿⡿⣦⠀⠛⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣌⣦⠸⣀⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣺⣿⢣⠛⠀⣀⠜⠉⠀⣠⡺⠋⠸⢅⣸⣏⣙⣷⡄⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠃⢻⣄⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣼⣿⠟⣡⠟⠕⢃⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⣰⠟⠀⠠⠒⠀⡨⠋⠂⠙⠢⢧⡀⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠳⣷⡆⠀⢀⡾⢡⣾⡵⢻⠃⢀⠔⢣⣤⣄⠀⠰⣪⠟⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢆⠀⢣⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⢸⢃⡿⠕⢀⣮⠞⠁⠀⠰⣫⠉⠉⢿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣎⡾⠃⡀⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢇⢀⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢣⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⡠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠚⢂⣯⢀⣠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢁⠜⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⢾⣹⡆⡱⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⡷⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠴⢊⣁⣀⡀⠛⠧⠒⠍⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡼⠇⢀⣀⠀⠤⠾⠓⠛⠛⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣴⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣦⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠀ ⣼⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠉⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⡷⠀⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡁⠀⢾⣷⣄⠀⠙⠉⠀⣠⣾⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠙⢿⣷⣤⣤⣾⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠙⢿⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇ ⠫⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⣀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀ ⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡

♥️♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️♥️ ♥️⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜♥️ ♥️⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜♥️ ♥️⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜♥️ ♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️ ♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️ ⬜♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️⬜ ⬜⬜♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜ ⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜♥️♥️⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⡟⠛⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠙⠃⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣤⣤⡀⢸⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣷⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠿⠿⠀⠀⠰⠊⠉⠀⠀⣹⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣠⣾⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣷⣶⣄⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣷⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⠏⠉⠙⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠋⠹⢿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣰⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣷⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠛⣤⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠙⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠋ ⣿⣿⣥⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⣤⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣍⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣷⣶⣆⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣰⣶⣾⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠿⠿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢹⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣿⣧⣀⣀⣀⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣀⣀⣀⣴⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⡋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠉⠉⠙⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠛⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

𖠋𖠋

╰| ♪ ♪ | - ∞╰ . ☞ ᴅℯᴍɪ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ ⊂🎧⊃ 、 ╰┈➤ 『📱』 ᵕ̈ . ɪ'ԃ !⌒ . » ╭ 🌁 ⌇ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴍʏ sᴏɴ🅶 ?🍭

-ˏ ˋ 🎀 ˊ ˎ- « αяια ιѕ ρℓαуιηg ωιтн нєя нαιя.. » 『💇🏾‍♀️』┆ ѕʜᴇ’ᴅ :: вяαι∂ нєя нαιя!『🌷』 -ˏ ˋ ωнσσρѕ, ι ƒσяgσт ωнαт ι ωαѕ ∂σιηg! ˊ ˎ- 💕

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠄⣀⢠⠴⡠⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡛⢤⠚⢤⢃⢎⡱⢌⡚⢄⡒⡒⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⡖⠭⣑⡘⢆⡙⢆⢎⠲⣐⠣⠜⣢⠱⣡⢳⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⡘⠦⢱⡘⢆⡍⣊⠆⡓⢬⣘⡱⠶⢳⡄⢣⠓⣤⠀ ⠀⣰⠟⣱⢯⠖⠉⢶⡘⢤⡙⣸⠴⠋⠀⠀⣠⢃⠧⢩⠸⠅ ⢸⣏⡜⠌⡝⢦⡀⠀⠙⢦⠕⠁⠀⢀⡴⣋⠇⡎⡜⡡⣏⠀ ⠀⠙⣾⢘⡘⠦⡱⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⢞⡋⢖⡡⢚⠤⢃⠵⣰⠆ ⠀⠀⣿⢠⡙⠦⠱⡌⢧⠴⣋⠕⡢⢍⡒⢬⡑⢪⡑⡦⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠙⠣⢼⣌⠓⡜⢢⠱⠌⣎⠑⢦⢉⠦⡘⣅⠺⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣷⡈⢇⣎⡱⢢⡙⢢⣍⠶⠵⠌⠃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠈⠉⠙⠱⠚⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ˋ .   « 🦭 »  , ʚ『 ᴀʜᴇᴍ ᴀʜᴇᴍ!』, 💬⌇♪  ι'ԃ: ˋ . sᴇɴᴅ! : ғʀᴏᴍ ℛᴇᴍɪ ! ⊂ 🗞️ ⊃ ˊ ☻  .♡™️

.- -ყαɯɳ! 🐰ℓɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ℳιѕѕଓ .. αяια™️⭑.ᐟ {🌙} ѕнє'∂:: [insert example or text]🥛..ᴍɪʟᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴏᴋɪᴇs?♡ ︎#»

ˋ ˏ ♯’ ︴『ʚ🏰ɞ』．˚ ．.. ѕу∂ ¢αѕтℓє ɞ － ☞ 、ѕнє'∂『::`🌹ɞ』` - »` туρє нєяє ．˚ ． ༝༚༝༚

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠄⣈⡂⢕⠾⠍⡨⠙⢢⠀⠈⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⢀⠕⠄⡄⠤⢄⡀⠈⠀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠄⠴⢊⠃⠉⠁⠘⠈⢁⠄⠻⣂⠄⠁⠄⠀⠀⠠⢀⢐⠔⠡⠀⠈⠠⠠⠄⢄⡀⠁⠃⠄⡀⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡶⠄⠁⡌⢠⠁⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠩⡄⢀⠩⡐⢀⢄⠐⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠐⢄⠓⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⠁⠃⠆⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡀⠩⣆⠏⢳⡐⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡣⡱⣀⢧⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⠀⣜⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⡑⠺⠟⡀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡂⠈⠗⣼⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⡇⠂⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣁⠇⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠹⢫⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⢈⡇⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣄⠧⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠸⡕⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣂⠄⣏⠀⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠢⢘⡍⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⡀⠂⢧⢈⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢒⠃⡇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢄⣈⠹⡊⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣎⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⡄⠬⣵⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⡁⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠕⡓⠸⡂⢐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠍⢸⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡃⠅⣻⠄⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠔⠍⠂⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢅⠼⡆⠇⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡪⠀⡂⡾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠅⠊⡱⡹⣐⠦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⢀⡺⠫⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡄⠀⢧⢹⠀⠕⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⠡⡬⢋⡑⠅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠄⠈⡧⣣⠀⢐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡊⡮⠗⠄⡕⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠡⠢⠨⣋⣃⡀⠨⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠊⠵⠩⡢⢊⠇⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢐⡑⢥⠙⣧⠐⠘⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠅⡂⠂⢄⢟⠜⡑⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠌⣂⢣⡑⣕⢄⠈⠸⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡌⠈⠢⠈⡜⠕⡑⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢝⡦⡳⣍⠶⠔⢑⢇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⢃⡈⠁⣑⠂⡐⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠋⢾⣕⢆⡈⠊⠯⣧⡀⢀⣠⠎⠗⢀⠢⠃⡡⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠿⣆⣀⠀⠐⠟⠃⢠⠌⠂⢀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⠑⡶⠮⠥⠒⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

╰◞ ⸝⸝🐰 .; ℳαн-мι . .» 'z ˡⁱˡ ℰѕʟι 🖇️ , ┊ » ╮💭⌇ᵗᵉˢᵗ . . '; ♯“ ℬᴜʜ ' ʙʏᴇ! ᴄ; ”

I pray that the “Children” begging to be Gr00med are traps to catch Pedophiles and Predators

ˋ ˏ ♯’ ︴『ʚ🏰ɞ』．˚ ℳℰℒ'🆉 ¢αѕтℓє ɞ － ☞ 、ѕнє'∂『::`🌹ɞ』` - »` туρє нєяє ．˚ ． ༝༚༝༚ 🧸

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 10 (Autistic author) Ignorant of Plankton's neurodivergence, Sandy doesn't realize that her persistent questions are adding to his overwhelm. She leans closer, her face a canvas of concern. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice strained as she grabs his shoulder. Plankton's antennae twitch in agitation, his single eye snapping up to meet hers. The touch feels like a brand, his senses on fire. "Words," he murmurs, his voice a desperate static, trying to return to the safety of the word search. But Sandy's grip is firm, her gaze intense. "Look at me, Plankton," she says, her voice a persistent hum. She doesn't understand the distress she's causing, her intentions pure but misguided. So she turns him using both of her hands to squeeze his arms. The sudden pressure sends waves of pain coursing through his tiny body, his voice a piercing squeal of static. "No, no," he whispers, but she only holds tighter. Her touch feels like a vice, her voice a relentless buzz in his ear. "What's going on?" she repeats, her grip unyielding. Plankton's eye widens with fear, his voice a desperate static. "No, Sandy, please," he whispers, his body trying to shrink away from the contact. But she doesn't understand, her eyes searching his for answers. "Just answer me! You're not getting the book until you decide to have a conversation!" The pain in his arms spikes, the pressure unbearable. His voice cracks like a whip. "Can't," he gasps, his breath quick and shallow. "Too much." Sandy's grip doesn't lessen. "Why not?" she asks, her voice a stubborn hum. "You're okay." The room feels like it's closing in on him, the sensation of her touch like a million tiny saws against his skin. He tries to pull away, his voice a frantic static. "Too much," he whispers, his breathing quick and erratic. "Need words, not touch." But Sandy's grip doesn't loosen. She's determined to get his attention. "Look at me then," she insists, her voice a firm hum. "I'm right here." Plankton's eye flutters with the effort to focus on her face. The sensory assault of her touch and her persistent voice is like a whirlpool threatening to pull him under. "No," he whispers, his voice a fragile static. "Please." "Talk. To. Me!" She says as she pulls him closer to her. Plankton's eye bulges with the effort of not looking away. The room is spinning, his senses are on fire. Karen's screens flicker with alarm, picking up on his distress. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warning siren. "Let go of his arms." Sandy's grip tightens, not comprehending the harm she's causing. "But he's not answering me!" she protests, her voice a confused trill. "Because until I get an answer..." Karen's screens blaze with a mix of frustration and fear. "Sandy, you're hurting him," she beeps, her voice a sharp warning. Sandy's grip doesn't waver. She doesn't understand the severity of the situation. Her eyes are wide, her expression a mask of confusion. "What's wrong with you!" she asks Plankton. "I JUST..." "Sandy, stop!" Karen beeps, her voice a piercing alarm. "You're causing him pain!" Sandy's grip finally loosens, her hands retreating from Plankton's arms. She stares at him, her expression a storm of confusion and concern as Plankton's tiny body slumps. "What's wrong with you?" she asks again, her voice a gentle hum of bewilderment. Plankton's body quivers like a leaf, his eye squeezed shut against the onslaught of emotions. "Can't..." Sandy's face is a canvas of confusion, her hands hovering over him like a lost diver searching for the surface. "But why?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's body is a taut bowstring, each breath a struggle. He tries to find the words to explain, his voice a static whisper. "Too much," he says, his eye still tightly shut. "It's too much." Sandy's gaze softens, her confusion giving way to concern. She doesn't understand, but she can see his pain. "What do you mean?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. Plankton takes a shaky breath, his body still reeling from the overstimulation. He opens his eye, looking at her. "Say no, Sandy." Sandy's gaze is steady, her voice a soft hum. "No?" she asks, her eyes searching his for answers. But he won't elaborate. Karen's screens flicker with frustration. She knows Sandy means well, but her lack of understanding is causing more harm than good. "Sandy, Plankton's going through something new," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "He's sensitive to touch and sounds right now." Sandy's eyes widen, the realization dawning. "Oh," she says, her voice a soft trill of understanding. "I didn't know." She sits back, giving him space. "Words," he whispers, his voice a sob. "Words." Sandy nods, her confusion replaced with empathy. "Okay, let's stick to words," she says, her voice a gentle rumble. She picks up the word search book, holding it out to him like a peace offering. "Words," he whimpers. Plankton takes the book, his antennae drooping. He finds comfort in the predictability of the letters and the structure of the puzzle, the words becoming a lifeline in a sea of chaos. He begins to scan the page again, his breathing slowing. Sandy watches him, her heart heavy with regret. She had no idea her actions could cause so much pain. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a sincere hum. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Plankton." "Words," he murmurs. Sandy nods, her eyes reflecting genuine apology. "It's okay," she whispers. "We'll just stick to words." Karen's screens flicker with relief, seeing Plankton's body slowly relax. "Thank you, Sandy," she beeps, her voice a warm hum of gratitude. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "I'm here to help," she says, her voice a comforting trill. She looks at Plankton, her eyes filled with concern. Plankton's antennae twitch slightly, his body still tense. "Words, words." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What happened to make you like this, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. He takes a deep shuddering breath as tears start to form in his eye. "Mmm," he hums, hugging his knees. Sandy's gaze is intense, her curiosity piqued. "What happened, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a soft trill of concern. "Hmmm," Plankton hums as he rocks, now crying. Sandy's eyes are wide with worry, her voice a gentle hum. "Hey, what's going on?" she asks, looking for answers. "Hmmmm..." Plankton keeps humming, sniffling in between hums. Karen decides to intervene. "Sandy," Karen beeps firmly, her screens flashing with concern. "Let's give Plankton some space." Sandy nods, her expression a mix of apology and confusion. She takes a step back, her gaze never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "I didn't know," she whispers, her voice a soft rumble of regret. "It's okay," Karen beeps, her voice a comforting hum. "We're all learning." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton's shaking form. "But what happened?" she asks again, her voice a gentle trill of concern. Plankton's body is a tiny storm, his sobs quaking through his tiny frame. Karen's screen pulse with sympathy. "Sandy," she beeps, her voice a calm wave. "Let's talk outside." Sandy nods, her eyes filled with worry.

..🐇 ⌇ -» ┆「, ℒʸ∂ɪ🄰 ℬαвв𝓵ιи'z ᵖᵒᵛ』┆🌷. ↪ ¹ ² ³ @. ♡ ˢᴴᴱ'ᵈ.. ┆🍼┆ℬαιι! ╭ » -

. ݁₊ ⊹ ˊˎ『☀️』¹²³ ᴛʜᴇᴏ ᴛʏᴘɪɴɢ! | ™ ♫ 🧃︴ʜᴇ'ᴅ test!┆★┆ ⊂🎬⊃ ˓→ᴇɴᴅ←˒||. ݁₊ ⊹ ’ , -

˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ ᴀᴜʀᴏʀᴀ's νℓσg˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ ₛₕₑ...˙✧˖ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵃ 𝗍𝗈ოო𝗈𝗋𝗈⍵!° ༘ ⋆｡˚📷

✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚ʀɪʀɪ's ʀᴇᴄᴏʀᴅɪɴɢ! 'яιяι'ѕ α¢тισи' ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ'ᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀᴘᴇ ɢᴏ?!જ⁀➴

000⃣

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿ ⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢿⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣷⣤⣾⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣷⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⢄⣀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

🤓 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕓 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕞 𝕠𝕝𝕕𝕖𝕣 👕 👖

ˋ , . 🐚 . , ┊ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ..┊★. .sʜᴇ'ᴅ. .★ . . .' ' : : 💬 : :『 - ˋ ˋ - 』🦢 -- sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ, ᴄᴇᴄɪʟᴀ™! ┆ˋ ˏ

(｡•́︿•̀｡)

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 1 (Autistic author) It happened, during another failed attempt at the krabby patty formula. Plankton tried sneaking through the back when Mr. Krabs saw him. "You again!" Mr. Krabs roared, his eyes bulging like a pair of boiled eggs about to pop. "You're not getting it, I'll make sure of that!" With that, Mr. Krabs swung a nearby frying pan with such ferocity that even SpongeBob flinched. Plankton's tiny body was no match for the metallic beast that was hurtling towards him, and the next thing he knew, his world had gone dark. SpongeBob's eyes widened as he watched his boss's arch-nemesis crumble to the ground, the frying pan clattering loudly beside him. The usually boisterous kitchen was now eerily silent, save for the distant hiss of the fryers. Mr. Krabs' chest heaved with each breath, his claws still poised in the air from the swing. "Mr. Krabs!" Sponge Bob squeaked, his spatula frozen mid-air. "Is he okay?" But Mr. Krabs' has retreated to his own office, leaving Sponge Bob with Plankton. Carefully, Sponge Bob prodded him with his spatula. No response. His single, tiny eyelid was closed. After a while, Plankton stirred. His eye fluttered open, but the world was a jumbled mess. The colors were too bright, the noises too loud, the smells too overwhelming. The kitchen of the Krusty Krab, a place he still knew like the back of his tiny hand, was suddenly a chaotic maelstrom of sensory input that his brain couldn't process. He blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it all, but the clanging of pots and pans, the sizzling of the fryers, and the garish neon lights just added to the confusion. SpongeBob's face appeared above him, a mask of worry and concern, his porous expression more complex than anything Plankton had ever seen. "Are you okay?" the sponge asked, his voice a gentle wave lapping against the shore of his newfound reality. Plankton nods, running back home to the Chum Bucket. Plankton's computer wife Karen's no stranger to him coming back upset or wanting space. So as Plankton retreats to his room in the Chum Bucket, she doesn't prompt him. Alone in the bedroom, Plankton intensely stared at the wall, his thoughts racing like a tornado. Everything was different now. The once-familiar world had turned on him, and he couldn't understand why. The lights in the Chum Bucket, usually a comfort, now blazed like the sun in his face. The noises, oh, the noises! They were so loud, so overwhelming, like a cacophony of a million tiny bells ringing in his head. He put his hands over his ears, trying to block them out, but even the softest hum seemed to resonate within his skull. Plankton wasn't sure how to process these new sensations. His brain was on overload, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him anymore. He was aware of every tiny detail in his environment, every speck of dust on the floor, every vibration from the floorboards, and it was all too much. He tried to get up, to find solace in his usual routine, but his legs failed him. They trembled and wobbled like Jell-O on a stormy sea. Plankton fell back onto the bed, feeling the softness of the pillow beneath him and the cool metal of the bed frame against his back. It was then that he noticed the pattern of the wallpaper, the tiny, intricate shapes that danced before his eye. They spun and swirled, forming complex mazes that his mind tried desperately to solve. It was mesmerizing, yet terrifying. He was trapped in a world of overstimulation, and he didn't know how to escape.

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🐬 ° .☼⌞ αℒαηι ιѕ ѕωιммℐηg! ⌝ ۶☀️ৎ .¹ ² ³ ˋ⇨ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ.. `` ★ - 🎨 ℓσσк α ℱιѕн!

HAII!! REPOST OF MY LAST ONE BUT IDC(ᵕ—ᴗ—) HAIII!!!( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ) MY NAME IS VALENTINO AND IM RLLY LONELY (i have a bf so dont even try it.) IM 14 AND TRANS!! I LIKE DANDYS WORLD, SALLY FACE, AND MUCH MORE! IM NIT LOOKING FOR ANYTHING WIERD, JUST FRIENDS!! IF U WANNA BMF MY DISCORD IS: val.xx_thegreat (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)🤍

🎠 , . ﹏ ⊂ ҽɱιℓια ! ⊃ ┆╭ ³²¹🚦╮. ┆ sнє’ԃ : Ur fav kid testing ┆’ ᴏᴋᴀʏ ,ᴅᴏɴᴇ ғᴏʀ ɴᴏᴡ ! ╰┈➤ 👋🏽 . ‘

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🌿ˋ ★╭ ˋ тαℓια нєяє! ˊ « ⊂ ' . .  ! . . ' ⊃ тнє єи∂! ˊ ★ 🕊️

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ℰмєяу *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ ᡣ𐭩 🌼┆”ex” ┆🌼 ℬ𝓊 𝒷𝒶𝒾.ᐟ

| --- |╭ -ˏ ˋ🛣️ˎ- « ʚ || ℳaℰ уαρριиg | ѕԋє'ԃ| ɞ🍦» ˋ★тнє єη∂ ˓ ⊂🌼⊃ ˊ ˎ- | --- |˒ ,, ˊ⛸️ˎ☻" ˎ╰┈>

╭💎╮『ʚ ¢ᴼr҈αʂ ρl҈αყιⓝ ø₦ ʰҽɾ ιpαđ! 👧 ¹²³ ⊂🧸⊃ ʂԋe҈'ᵈ ' ' 『❤️』 i ɳⓔⓔԃa҈ ƈαɾɾσƚ! 🥕, cute, toddler,

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣶⣄⡀⢀⣠⣶⣿⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠂⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠉⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣄⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣁⠀⠻⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣀⠈⠀⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⠙⠿⣿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧✮

-ˏ ˋ 🎀 ˊ ˎ- « ℳιℓα ιѕ αωαкє ησω! » 『🍰』┆ ѕʜᴇ’ᴅ :: ¢нσσѕє нєя ƒιт ƒσя тнє ∂αу!!『🧺』 -ˏ тнιѕ ωιℓℓ вє тнє ρєяƒє¢т συтƒιт ' ! 🎀 ˊ ˎ-

┊» ☃️ ˋ ★ ┊ « ℒʸ∂ɪ🄰 ’ ˢ ∂σιηg α ¢αятωнєєℓ! « ѕнє'ᴅ ( ) ⊂ 🎄 ⊃ ѕтι¢к тнє ℓαη∂ιηg!

ˋ , 📓 . , ┊ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴅɪᴀʀʏ..┊★. .ʜᴇ'ᴅ. .★ . . .' ' : : 💬 : :『 - ˋ ˋ - 』🎮 -- sɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ, ᴄᴀɪᴏ ™! ┆ˋ ˏ🚀

[ 🛍️ . ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ™ ╰. ¹ ² ³— ˢᴴᴱ'ᵈ 🗯️ — ɴɪᴄᴏʟᴇ's ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ɴᴏᴡ,ʙʏᴇᴇ! 🧸 ]

🌷🦢🩰🧸

⣟⡻⣟⡻⣭⢫⡽⣍⢯⡝⣏⢯⡽⣩⢏⡽⣩⢏⡽⣩⠭⡭⢭⡹⣍⢏⡹⣌⢭⣃⢏⣍⠲⣩⠹⣩⠜⡬⣙⠤⣃⠬⡡⢍⠢⡍⡜⡨⢅⠣⣍⢩⢡⠩⡜⣡⢊⠥⣉⠄⡃⠌⡤⠡⠌⡄⠡⠌⠤⡁⠌⠤⠡⠌⠤⠡⢌⠨⢄⠡⢌⡐⡈⠤⡁⢌⠠⢡⠈⡄⢡⢈⡐⢈⠄⣁⠂⢌⠠⡁⢌⠠⡈⠄⡂⢡⠈⡐⢈⠠⣀⠡⠈⠄⠠⢀⠄⠠⡀⠄ ⣯⢵⣣⡝⣖⣫⢶⣩⢶⡹⣬⢧⣳⡱⣎⣶⡱⢮⣱⢣⢧⣙⢦⡱⣎⣬⡱⣌⢦⣑⢎⡔⣣⢥⡓⣤⢛⡰⣉⠞⣄⢣⠱⣌⡑⣒⣌⢱⣨⡑⣤⢒⢢⡱⣘⠤⣉⠖⣠⠃⡜⠰⢠⠡⡌⡰⣁⢎⡐⠌⣌⠰⢡⢌⡂⣅⠢⣘⠀⢎⠠⣐⠌⡐⢄⠢⢌⢄⣂⠐⡄⣂⡐⢠⢂⡄⢌⡐⡠⢌⡀⢆⡐⠠⣁⠂⣄⢁⠂⡄⣀⢂⠡⡈⢄⠠⣈⢀⠰⡀ ⡝⣮⢳⡹⢧⡝⣎⠧⣏⢳⠭⡞⣥⢛⡼⢲⡍⣏⠧⣏⠞⣬⢣⠳⡜⢦⡝⢬⢣⠍⠮⡜⢤⢣⡙⠴⣋⠴⣡⠚⡤⣉⠞⡠⢍⠒⡌⡡⢆⠩⢄⡋⢤⠱⢨⠥⢩⠘⡄⠣⠌⣡⠊⠡⠠⢁⠄⢂⠡⠘⠠⡁⢆⠂⠌⠤⠡⢄⡉⠤⡡⢈⡐⠌⣀⠃⠌⢄⠠⠡⡐⠠⠈⠄⠂⠌⠠⢀⠅⠂⠌⠠⢈⠁⠄⠡⠀⠌⡐⠠⠀⠌⡀⠡⠀⢁⠀⠌⠠⠁ ⡽⣎⡷⣹⢶⣙⢮⡻⣜⣫⢏⡽⢲⣋⣞⢳⡼⣩⠞⣬⣛⡬⣣⢛⢼⡃⣞⠬⣣⢋⡳⢍⢆⡳⣘⢣⡜⢢⢅⡓⢆⡜⡰⡑⢪⠱⣌⠱⢌⢣⢊⡜⢢⡙⢢⡃⢎⠒⡌⡑⠢⡐⠌⡡⢃⠌⡘⠤⣁⠉⠆⡑⠠⡉⢎⡐⡉⢆⡘⠤⡑⠢⢌⠒⡠⢁⠎⣈⠆⡑⠌⡡⠁⠎⡈⢢⠑⢨⠠⢉⠰⢁⠂⠌⠂⡅⢊⠐⠠⢁⠌⠂⠄⡡⢈⠀⠂⠄⡁⠀ ⢷⡹⢞⡵⢮⡹⢶⡹⢦⣛⠮⣝⢧⣓⢮⡳⡜⢧⢻⡔⣣⢞⡡⣏⠶⡹⡜⢲⠥⡳⢜⣊⠦⣱⡉⢦⡙⢆⠎⣜⠢⠜⣡⢊⠥⠓⡌⢓⡘⠦⡑⣌⠣⡘⢡⠎⠆⡍⠦⣁⠃⡜⠰⣁⢊⠤⡑⠢⢄⠃⡜⢠⠃⡜⢠⠐⡉⠆⠬⢡⢉⠖⡠⢃⠔⡡⠒⡠⠘⡄⠣⠄⢃⠂⠤⢁⠌⠰⠐⢨⠐⠂⠌⡀⠃⠔⠠⢉⠐⠠⠌⢂⠡⠐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠀⠁ ⡗⣯⢻⡜⣧⢻⡱⢯⡳⣍⢿⣸⢣⡝⡶⡹⣭⡓⣧⠺⣕⢮⠳⣌⢷⡱⢍⡏⡞⣡⠧⡘⠶⡡⢎⠥⣹⢌⡚⠴⡉⣍⡔⣊⠜⣩⠘⡥⣙⠢⡍⠴⣉⠭⡑⢎⣩⠘⠤⣡⢊⡌⠱⣀⠎⡰⢈⣱⣈⣍⣘⣡⣙⣤⣃⣜⢠⢉⠜⡄⢃⡒⠰⢁⠦⡁⠣⠌⠱⣀⠣⡘⢀⢃⠰⠈⠤⢑⠨⢐⠨⢁⠂⠡⡁⠎⡁⢌⠠⠡⠈⡄⢂⠁⠂⠄⡈⠄⡁⠂ ⡿⣜⡷⣹⢎⡷⣙⢧⡻⣜⢶⡹⣖⡹⣜⣣⢳⡙⢶⡙⣎⢎⠷⣩⢦⣙⠾⣖⡱⢃⡎⢭⠱⣑⣊⣶⣥⣞⣽⣻⣭⣧⣝⡤⣯⣔⣩⢒⣡⠣⡜⡱⢌⢒⠱⡂⠤⡋⢔⠂⡆⢬⠑⣤⣮⣜⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⡍⣎⠰⡈⡂⠜⡐⣦⢄⡃⡘⢀⢃⢐⠂⠱⡀⢂⢂⠩⡐⠨⢐⠨⢐⠂⠌⡁⡐⢂⡐⠄⢂⠡⢁⡐⢀⠊⠐⠠⠐⡀⠐⠀ ⡿⣜⣳⡝⡾⣜⠽⣎⠷⣭⢞⡱⡽⣜⣱⢇⢧⢛⣦⢛⡜⣎⢳⡱⣚⡬⢫⡴⣋⣌⣳⢃⡧⣭⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣽⣦⣯⣔⣣⢼⡰⡡⢎⡡⣑⠢⡑⣌⠒⣬⣦⣭⣶⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣗⡰⡅⠢⣹⠃⢸⡇⢡⠂⢌⠈⠤⠃⠤⢁⠂⡂⠅⡘⢠⠘⠠⠌⡐⠀⠆⠡⢀⠊⠄⠒⠠⠐⢂⠡⠈⠄⡁⠠⠁⠂ ⡿⣜⣣⡟⣵⢫⡞⣭⣛⠶⣫⣓⣏⡞⣜⡺⢬⠳⣬⢳⡜⣣⢇⡳⢥⡓⣣⡓⣼⣏⡯⢼⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣧⣗⡳⢮⠴⢦⠱⢶⣾⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡧⢹⡃⣘⢰⡇⢠⢧⠈⠰⢈⠂⠡⢂⠡⢐⠡⢘⠠⠘⠰⡀⢌⠡⡈⠅⢂⡉⠠⠉⡄⢁⠂⡔⠈⡐⠀⡁⠂⠄ ⡿⣜⢧⡻⣜⡳⡞⣵⢫⠟⣥⢳⠮⣝⠮⣵⢋⠷⣬⢣⢗⡣⢎⠟⡦⢽⡧⣹⣿⣬⠹⣾⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢀⢣⢸⡇⠸⠌⣐⢁⠂⡡⢁⠢⢘⠀⠎⠰⠠⢉⠰⢀⠢⠐⠄⠃⡄⢂⠁⠒⡀⠆⢂⡐⠠⠐⠠⢀⠡⠀ ⣟⡼⣳⡝⣮⢷⡹⣎⢯⢻⣜⡫⣞⣥⣛⢦⣛⡳⢎⡳⢎⡝⣏⢺⡑⢯⣽⢧⣿⣇⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣮⢈⡇⠌⡐⡄⣏⠠⢁⠂⠜⡠⢁⢊⠰⠡⠌⡐⠂⢌⠂⠅⡡⠐⠌⢠⠁⠆⡈⠤⢀⠡⢈⠐⠠⢀⠂ ⣏⡾⣱⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⢯⡞⣼⡱⣭⢲⡍⢾⡰⢭⣛⡼⣩⠞⣬⠓⡜⣯⣿⣾⣿⢧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡟⢠⡖⠐⣦⠓⡠⠁⡌⠒⡐⢂⠢⠘⡐⢌⡐⠉⡄⠊⠄⡡⠌⢂⢁⠂⠆⠠⠑⡀⠂⠄⡈⠐⡀⠀ ⣏⢾⣱⢻⡜⣏⢷⡹⣎⡳⣵⢣⡟⡼⡹⢮⡱⣏⢖⣣⠳⣝⢢⡛⣼⣿⣿⢡⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⡥⠈⣷⡄⠡⢌⠀⠣⠬⢄⡁⠣⢉⠄⡌⢡⠠⠉⠆⡐⠌⠂⠌⡀⠃⠌⢠⠁⠌⠐⠠⢁⠐⠀ ⣯⢳⣭⢯⡽⣹⣎⡷⢭⣓⢮⣓⠾⣱⢋⡷⣱⠮⣝⣬⢳⡍⠶⣽⡟⣿⣿⣾⢿⡷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⠔⠧⢰⡇⠙⡆⡈⢐⠉⠒⠠⠐⡡⠌⢒⡈⠄⠃⡌⠒⡀⠊⡔⠠⢁⡁⠊⡄⠈⠆⢈⡐⠀⠌⠀ ⣭⠷⣮⢳⣝⡳⢮⡝⣧⢏⡾⣩⢏⡧⣛⠶⣡⠟⡴⣮⡷⣾⡟⣿⡼⣏⣾⠿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⣳⢈⣒⠀⡅⠐⡀⢊⠌⣁⠣⢄⠱⠈⢄⠃⡜⠠⢡⠘⠠⡀⢃⠄⠰⠁⠄⡁⠆⠠⡐⠈⡐⠀ ⣏⡷⣭⠷⢮⣝⡻⣼⢳⢺⡵⡭⣞⡱⣭⢳⣥⠿⣶⣷⠿⢷⠾⣋⣶⡿⢛⣧⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣍⣣⣃⣍⣐⣀⠢⢄⠒⡈⠤⡉⠢⠌⡐⠠⢁⠌⠡⡐⠄⡘⢠⢉⡐⠌⠐⠡⢀⠂⠄⠂ ⣏⡾⣱⢻⡳⢮⣝⢧⣏⢧⢻⡴⣣⢛⡴⣋⣶⠿⣹⠣⡝⡌⣷⢿⢣⣼⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣶⣥⣦⣤⣰⠈⡔⢢⡑⢢⠐⡁⠢⢈⠐⠠⢂⠐⠠⢀⡐⢂⠁⡂⠡⠐⡈⠀ ⣏⡾⣵⢫⡽⣳⢮⣳⢮⣛⢮⡕⣧⢋⣶⢻⡍⢶⣡⠳⣜⣲⣼⣮⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣦⣯⠔⢦⠰⢡⠂⠅⠒⢆⡈⠁⠆⡈⠐⠂⡄⢂⠐⠄⡑⠠⢀⠁ ⣏⡾⣱⢏⣾⡱⣏⡞⣧⣛⢾⣘⡖⣯⣝⢺⣼⡷⣞⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⡶⡘⡬⠐⢢⠑⢆⣵⠀⠃⡄⠈⠤⢈⠐⡀⢁⠂⠄ ⣏⢾⡹⣞⢶⡹⢧⣛⠶⣝⡎⣶⡝⣫⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣱⢃⡄⢻⡀⠄⠁⠠⠁⢂⠁⡂⠌⠠⠈⠄ ⣏⡷⣹⢎⡷⣹⢏⡾⣹⣮⢿⣓⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⣷⣿⡇⠠⢈⠁⠌⡀⢂⠐⡈⠄⠡⠀ ⡷⣹⢧⡻⣜⢧⡻⣜⣳⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡾⣿⢹⡇⠄⢂⠐⠠⠐⡀⢂⠐⡈⠄⠀ ⣽⢣⣏⢷⡹⢮⡳⣝⣾⡿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡿⣾⠇⡑⢈⠀⠡⠂⢡⠀⠂⠄⠂⠁ ⣗⢯⡞⣧⣛⡧⣿⣳⣿⣛⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢟⠿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢼⣹⢷⣿⠀⣷⠀⠣⡀⢁⠂⡈⠐⠠⢁⠂ ⡯⣞⡼⢧⡻⣜⢧⡗⣿⣯⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠣⡈⢈⠘⠡⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢻⢹⡇⢰⣿⠀⠂⡔⠠⠡⡀⠁⠆⠠⠀ ⡷⣹⢞⣧⢻⡹⢮⣝⣻⣷⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠧⢈⠀⢩⣄⠀⡀⢣⢚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣯⢀⣿⢧⡟⠁⢡⡁⠐⠠⠁⠠⠁⠌⡀⠁ ⣏⢷⣚⢮⣳⣛⡗⣮⠵⣿⣷⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠁⠠⠄⠘⠣⢼⠐⡦⢈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢯⠇⡥⡜⣻⠁⣿⠀⠘⢷⡈⢀⠃⠠⢁⠂⠄⠁ ⡽⢮⣝⢮⢧⡻⣜⣧⢻⡝⣿⡝⣲⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⠐⠲⠀⠐⠀⠔⠠⢀⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢒⡤⢱⣷⡏⢅⡿⠀⢂⠀⣇⠠⠁⠂⠄⠂⡈⠄ ⣯⢳⣎⡟⣮⢳⡝⣮⢳⡹⢿⣯⣧⣛⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢀⡀⠒⠒⠀⠐⠈⠀⣷⢨⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡿⠘⣤⡟⢣⣿⠈⣷⠆⡆⠂⠙⡀⠡⠈⠄⠡⠐⠀ ⣞⡳⢮⣝⢮⣻⡜⣧⠻⣝⢎⣿⣹⣮⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢩⢀⠉⠀⠃⢀⠂⠄⣘⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣙⡳⢈⠿⣡⢟⡏⢰⣿⠀⠰⠈⠄⠡⡀⠡⢈⠐⢈⠀ ⡷⣹⢏⡞⣧⣳⡝⣮⢻⣜⡺⢬⣷⣻⡽⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⠢⠀⠄⢂⠀⢂⠠⣁⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡽⡅⠞⣾⠃⣼⠃⣼⠐⠠⠡⡉⠰⠁⡐⢀⠂⠌⡀⠄ ⡗⣯⢞⡽⣲⢧⡻⣜⡳⢮⣕⢫⣶⢽⣷⢓⡞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠠⢁⠌⡈⡐⢀⠂⣦⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡟⣸⠅⢂⣾⢸⣏⠀⠣⠐⡁⠄⠃⡄⠂⠌⠠⠀⠄ ⣷⡸⣞⡴⣣⢞⣧⣛⡳⣆⡼⢆⣼⡞⣿⣸⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠠⠀⠄⠄⠠⠀⢸⣐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢸⡆⢼⠇⢾⠃⡐⢠⠂⠠⠐⠠⠀⢄⠐⣀⠂⠄ ⣷⡹⢧⡻⣵⢫⠶⣭⢳⡽⣜⣫⡿⣜⣿⣽⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢂⠐⢂⠱⢫⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠁⠢⠁⠊⠀⠠⣟⣾⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣹⡇⣾⠈⡙⣇⠐⠠⢈⠐⡁⠂⠅⠂⡐⠠⠈⠄ ⣷⡹⣏⠷⣭⣏⠿⣜⢧⡳⢮⣱⠳⣼⡷⣺⢽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⡌⠡⠘⡀⢂⠡⠛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢏⠃⠰⠨⠀⠰⠇⣑⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣾⠀⡅⢹⡆⠐⡀⠂⠄⡁⠊⡐⠠⠁⠌⡀ ⣗⢯⣝⡻⢶⡭⣻⠜⣧⡛⣧⣳⡿⣽⡗⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣽⡠⢍⡖⢠⠀⢂⠙⡈⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠉⠀⠌⣲⠇⠠⢰⡃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢘⡧⢸⡷⠀⠡⢈⠐⠠⠁⠄⡁⢂⠐⡀ ⣟⡮⣽⡹⢧⣻⡱⣏⣧⣻⣼⣿⣟⡿⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣴⣿⠖⡠⠘⢤⡀⡉⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢁⠂⠁⡀⠈⠁⠀⡀⢼⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⣇⠺⡅⢀⡁⠂⠌⠠⠉⠄⡐⠂⡐⠀ ⣯⢞⣵⣫⢗⣧⢻⡜⣶⡿⣧⣿⣿⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣿⠲⢁⢼⠘⡙⠦⠠⢽⡿⡿⣯⡅⠂⠄⢂⠙⢙⠀⢂⢂⡴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢾⣏⢼⡇⠀⡐⠈⠄⠡⢈⠐⡀⠡⢀⠁ ⡗⣯⢞⡵⣫⢞⡧⡿⣽⣺⣟⣿⡧⣛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡛⢆⡛⠠⢸⣰⡄⢀⠐⠬⢂⡘⢃⡈⠐⠈⠀⠂⣘⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣸⡇⠐⠠⠁⠌⡐⠀⠂⠄⡁⠂⠄ ⣟⡧⣟⢾⣱⣏⢾⡱⣿⢿⣼⢳⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣱⠘⡠⠘⢷⡌⠠⠂⠄⠂⡀⠃⠁⡌⣱⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⡧⠈⠆⡁⠂⠄⠩⠐⠠⢀⠁⠂ ⡿⣜⣻⢎⡷⣎⢷⣹⣻⠿⣿⣿⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡤⡉⡄⡈⢡⠀⠂⢦⠋⢀⠃⣬⣹⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠾⡯⢼⡟⢠⠃⢠⠑⢈⠰⠁⢂⠂⠌⡀ ⣿⡱⢯⡻⣜⢯⣞⣱⣿⢏⡽⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣷⡤⢡⠤⢈⠅⠢⠐⣼⢸⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⡦⠏⣁⠠⢈⠀⠌⡄⢂⢁⠂⠌⠐⡀ ⣷⢫⣟⡵⣫⡗⣮⢳⡿⢾⡘⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠞⡢⢘⠰⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠱⡨⠷⣰⠏⢃⠈⠌⣀⠐⢨⠀⠌⠠⠁⠄ ⣯⢗⡯⣞⢧⣻⡜⣧⢻⡜⢧⣛⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⠛⠥⢊⠑⡀⢻⣅⠐⠠⢂⠐⠄⠂⠄⢊⠠⠁⠌⡀ ⣯⡞⣽⣚⣧⢳⡝⣮⢳⣽⡯⢿⣞⢽⡓⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢫⠑⠌⢂⢉⡴⣄⣈⣼⢂⠛⠷⣆⠈⠄⠂⡡⠈⡄⢂⠁⠂⠄ ⣷⡹⢷⡹⣎⢷⡹⣎⠷⣎⡿⣿⣿⢫⣷⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣉⠡⠈⠄⠊⡔⠂⢋⠐⣴⠊⠄⢂⠱⣀⠘⣂⢁⠂⢡⠐⡀⠂⠌⠡⠀ ⡷⣻⢽⡳⣝⢮⡽⣭⢻⡼⣹⡝⣿⣧⣛⠿⣿⣻⣿⠿⣿⣹⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⢋⠡⠐⠄⠂⡅⠚⡐⡀⢎⠠⠁⠇⡈⢁⠂⠡⠄⡈⢌⠠⠁⠆⠠⡁⠌⢂⠁⠂ ⣟⢧⡿⣱⣛⣮⡳⣭⡳⣝⢶⣹⣜⡻⢟⣷⣭⢫⣍⢯⢽⣹⣷⢌⡳⣍⠻⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠯⠄⠊⠄⠃⡌⢡⠀⢇⠠⡡⢊⠐⡉⠤⡁⢂⡘⢀⢂⠐⠨⠄⠡⠘⡠⢀⠃⠄⡈⡁ ⣟⢮⡽⢧⣛⡶⣽⢲⡝⣮⢏⡿⢾⡱⣏⠾⢷⡻⣮⣗⡎⢶⣻⣿⣿⢿⣧⡙⢦⠛⣟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢋⠀⡉⠤⢉⡰⢋⢡⠂⠆⠡⢂⡑⡈⠤⢁⠂⠰⢀⠂⢌⠐⢂⡁⢂⠁⠢⠌⡐⠠⠀ ⣟⢮⡽⣣⣏⠷⣝⡮⡽⢶⣫⡞⡿⣷⣽⣾⣣⠟⡷⢎⡻⢿⣯⢭⣏⢿⡿⢿⣥⢋⠞⣜⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢣⣷⠂⢂⠱⠀⠎⣰⠎⡄⠌⡌⢡⠂⠤⢉⠰⡀⡉⠄⢩⠐⢂⡁⠂⡔⢈⠂⡁⠆⡐⠠⠁ ⣟⢮⠷⡽⣜⡻⣎⢷⣫⢗⡧⣏⢷⣚⠦⣿⢹⣟⡹⣎⠵⣫⢜⡻⢯⣯⣽⡻⣿⣿⣾⡰⢭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠣⣟⢀⡖⡬⢁⠲⢉⡐⢠⠊⠰⠠⣉⠐⣁⠢⠐⡀⠃⠔⡈⢄⠂⠅⢢⠐⠂⡁⠒⠠⢁⠂ ⣯⣏⢿⡱⣏⠷⡽⣎⢷⣋⢾⡹⣞⡼⡝⡾⢧⠞⡵⢎⡳⢥⢫⡜⣣⢏⡳⢿⡦⢍⢿⡶⣣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⣱⣿⡼⡽⢡⠀⠒⡄⡘⠤⢈⠱⠐⡠⠡⣀⠢⢁⠰⢉⠰⠠⠌⡐⠈⢆⠨⠁⠄⢃⡁⠂⠄ ⡷⣞⣭⠷⣭⣻⢵⣫⠾⡽⣎⣷⡹⣼⡹⣞⢧⣛⠽⣣⡛⡽⣆⢻⡔⣫⢜⣣⣿⡎⣜⢻⣥⣟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⡱⣼⢷⡾⣇⢂⠘⡰⠄⠰⡈⢄⢊⡁⢆⠡⡐⠄⢃⠰⠈⣅⠂⠢⡁⠃⠆⡐⠃⠌⠠⢀⠁⠂ ⣟⣮⢟⡽⢶⣫⡞⣧⣛⡷⣹⢶⡹⣖⡻⣬⢳⣭⢻⣥⢻⡵⣎⡳⡽⣘⡏⠶⣜⡻⣾⢸⠺⡽⣧⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠆⣽⢁⣿⢸⠇⡰⢈⠄⢃⢂⠑⢠⢂⠰⢈⡐⠠⢃⠂⣁⠒⢠⠈⠔⠡⡘⠄⡘⠠⠈⠔⠠⠈⠄ ⡿⡼⣯⢽⡳⢧⡿⣱⣏⠾⣵⣫⠷⣭⢻⣜⡳⣎⠿⣰⢏⡶⣹⣜⡳⢽⣸⢛⡴⣓⢻⢣⢏⡿⣟⣧⣝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡿⣭⢫⠝⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡛⡄⡣⢠⣰⢏⠂⡔⢠⠊⡌⠰⡈⢘⢠⠂⡅⢂⠌⡄⢃⠂⡄⢃⠢⢈⠰⡁⠔⢂⠰⠁⠌⠠⠁⡌⠀ ⣟⣳⢯⡞⣽⣣⠿⣵⣞⡻⢶⣭⢳⣏⠷⣎⢷⡹⣞⡱⣏⢾⡱⢮⡹⢎⡵⣋⠶⣍⢾⡱⣾⢛⣿⣧⢚⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⢯⣽⡔⢢⠐⡰⣴⣦⣭⣦⢷⣬⢏⡽⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠱⠌⢄⣁⣶⡏⡴⠁⡆⠰⡐⠌⡑⢄⠡⢂⠢⠌⢢⠐⡐⠄⢃⡐⢂⠱⢀⠢⡐⠌⠄⢂⡁⢊⠁⡐⡀⠂ ⣯⢯⣷⢫⡷⣭⣟⡶⣭⣛⠷⣎⡿⣜⡻⣜⢧⣛⠶⣹⠬⣧⢝⣣⣝⢫⢶⡩⢟⡬⣻⣜⣏⢻⣼⣿⣧⡘⡱⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢛⡳⠾⠷⢦⠶⠞⣷⣻⣷⠶⡚⣶⠾⢶⣶⣖⡲⠷⠶⠿⢿⣿⣿⠿⡿⢿⠿⢏⠢⠑⢌⠒⢢⡈⡡⢄⠩⣉⠐⡡⢂⠱⢨⠐⡌⢢⠑⡌⢂⠌⢠⠑⠂⡌⠄⡊⠄⢄⠡⠌⡘⠀⠆⡀⠆⡐⠠⠁ ⣯⣗⣯⢏⣷⢳⡞⣽⣺⢭⡻⣝⡾⣱⢻⡜⣧⢏⡽⢲⣛⢦⣛⢦⡛⡞⢦⣛⠮⣜⡱⣋⣯⢖⡹⢾⣿⢧⡓⣍⠻⠿⣿⡿⢿⡟⢿⡙⢎⡕⢪⠱⢌⡓⣩⠾⡌⢣⠒⡤⢒⠌⣑⠫⡙⠓⠶⠯⡽⣷⣶⡾⣖⡛⣛⠛⢎⠛⡈⠆⡁⢎⠰⢌⣂⠴⢁⠎⡰⢈⠡⡐⠡⢒⠠⠃⢄⠣⠐⡌⢢⠘⡠⠈⠆⡐⠡⡘⠠⡈⢂⡐⠤⠉⡄⠐⠂⠄⡁⠂ ⡷⣞⣽⢺⢧⡻⣽⢣⢯⡳⣏⠷⣝⢯⡳⣝⢎⣧⢛⡵⣫⢶⡩⡞⣭⡝⢶⡩⢞⡬⣓⠵⣊⠿⡔⢧⢻⣇⣳⢨⣍⣹⣌⣛⣛⣻⣦⢙⡢⢌⠣⡑⢎⡰⢉⠶⣈⠧⣙⠴⡉⢞⢠⠓⡜⡉⢆⢣⠔⢢⢉⠻⢍⢻⡏⠿⠶⡎⠐⠠⠐⢂⠡⡾⢋⠜⡠⢊⠔⢢⠁⡱⢈⢂⠱⢈⠂⡅⠣⠐⢢⠐⡀⠣⠄⣁⠃⡔⠡⠄⠡⠐⠢⢁⠄⡁⢊⠐⠠⠁ ⣿⣱⢯⣏⡷⣏⠷⣏⡯⣗⢯⣻⢼⢫⣗⢮⡻⣌⡟⡴⢳⡎⢷⣹⠲⣝⢮⡱⡏⢶⡩⢞⣩⢚⡜⡣⢎⡜⣫⠍⣭⢩⡍⢫⡑⢦⡝⠦⠿⡛⢿⠛⡆⡜⢡⢎⡱⢊⠖⢦⠹⢌⠇⡚⡌⣑⣊⡔⢎⠸⡈⣅⠲⡈⠍⢆⢡⡐⣉⠰⣉⡂⠥⠉⢆⠡⡑⢌⠂⠆⡱⢈⠰⢈⠆⡉⠰⢈⠡⢉⠄⢢⠁⠆⠡⡐⠂⡔⢀⠣⢀⠃⠌⢠⠂⡐⠠⠈⡄⠁ ⣷⣫⢷⡞⣵⢯⣛⢾⡵⣫⡗⣯⢞⡳⢮⡳⣝⢮⡽⡱⢏⡞⢧⣳⢻⡜⣲⢣⡝⣲⡙⣎⢖⡹⢦⡙⠶⡬⢱⣊⠴⢣⠜⡥⢚⠴⡸⢌⡱⡘⢦⠙⡤⢙⠢⢎⠴⣉⠞⣈⠳⣈⠞⡡⢆⡅⢢⠜⡨⢆⠱⢌⠰⡁⠇⡌⠤⡐⠤⡁⢆⠰⡈⠱⡈⠲⠰⡈⡌⢂⠅⢎⡐⢂⠔⡈⣁⠢⠌⢠⠈⡄⠊⡔⠡⠐⡡⢘⠀⠒⠠⢈⠰⢀⠂⠄⡁⢂⠐⡀ ⣷⣫⢷⣫⡽⢾⡹⢾⣱⢯⡽⣎⢯⣝⡳⣝⢮⣣⠷⣍⡻⣜⢧⢧⡻⣜⡱⢣⡟⡴⢫⡜⢮⡱⣚⢥⡛⡴⢣⠜⡬⢳⠬⡱⣉⠖⣡⠓⡬⡙⢦⡙⡄⢫⠜⣌⠲⣡⠚⠤⡃⡵⠘⡴⢘⠠⣃⠎⡱⢈⡅⢎⠰⣉⠒⠤⠑⠤⢡⠘⠄⡡⠌⡑⡈⢅⠃⠴⠈⡄⠎⡰⢈⠄⡒⠠⠄⢂⡘⠀⠆⡐⠡⠄⡁⠆⣁⠢⢈⠘⡀⠆⢂⠂⠌⡐⢀⠂⠡⠀ ⣷⣫⢾⡵⣛⣧⢟⣯⢳⣻⣜⢯⡞⣼⡹⣎⠷⣎⡻⣜⢳⠺⣜⢮⡱⢮⡝⢧⣙⡳⣍⠾⣡⠳⡹⢢⡝⠲⣍⢚⡴⢋⡖⣱⢡⠚⣔⠫⣔⡙⢦⠒⣍⠲⡘⢤⠓⡤⢋⠔⡣⢜⡑⢢⢩⠒⡰⢘⡐⢣⠌⢢⠑⡤⡉⠆⣉⠒⢠⠃⡘⢠⠘⡠⢁⠎⡄⠣⡑⡀⢣⡐⢡⠘⢠⢁⡘⠠⢀⠣⠐⣁⠂⠅⠰⠐⢠⠘⡀⠢⠐⡈⠄⠌⡐⢀⠂⠌⡐⠁ ⡷⣏⡿⣞⢧⡟⡾⣜⢯⡖⣯⢞⡽⢲⡝⣎⢟⡼⣱⢫⣍⠟⣬⢳⡙⢧⠺⡥⢏⣼⢣⡛⠴⣛⡕⢣⠞⡱⢎⠲⡜⣣⠜⡥⢎⠳⣌⠳⢤⢋⠖⣩⢂⠣⡙⢢⢙⡐⢋⠔⡃⢎⡐⢣⠘⠤⡑⢃⠌⡡⢊⠱⡈⠔⡡⠒⠠⢉⡐⢂⠡⢂⠘⡐⠄⠒⠄⡃⠔⡀⢃⠰⢁⡘⠠⠂⠄⡁⢂⠐⠡⠀⠌⢂⠁⠊⠄⠒⠠⢁⠂⡐⢈⠂⡐⠠⢈⠐⠠⠁

♡. . - ; ³ ² ¹ ˊ 🍙 ˊ ½ ℱαℛℒ🅴ყ™ ★ --> ˎ ˎ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ!! - ' ' - # ⛸ ӝˣO̶̶̶ ℱ ★

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 13 (Autistic author) ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ Plankton quivers. "Stop," he whispers, his voice a plea. "Please." Mr. Krabs' grin widens, eyes glinting with cruel delight. "Afraid I'll do to you what you deserve?" Before Plankton can respond, Mr. Krabs punches at him with his claw. Plankton squeaks in pain, his eye widens with terror, his voice a distressed static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please stop!" Mr. Krabs' chuckles turn into full-blown laughter. "Look at him squirm," he says, his voice a rumble. He doesn't heed the tears streaming down Plankton's face. Plankton's body wrenches in pain, his antennae sticking straight out in alarm. "Why?" he whispers, his voice a broken static. Mr. Krabs' laughter echoes. "Because you're weak," he sneers, his voice a harsh grate. "Always have been, always will be." Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "No," he whimpers, his voice a static plea. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still poised for another strike. "Look at the tiny thief," he says, his voice a cruel cackle, "so scared of a little pain." Without warning, his claw swings down, connecting with Plankton's thin leg, and Plankton's scream pierces the air, his voice a shattered static. Pain shoots through his body like lightning, his leg feeling like it's on fire. He tries to pull away. "Mr. Krabs," he gasps, his voice a desperate whine. Mr. Krabs' laughter continues, unabated by Plankton's cries. "See? You're just a tiny, weak little creature," he says, his voice a malicious cackle. Plankton's screams fill the room, the pain in his leg unbearable. "No," he whispers, his voice a static moan. "No more." Mr. Krabs' laughter doesn't waver, his claws still poised for another strike. "Oh, poor Plankton," he sneers, his voice a harsh static. Plankton's body writhes in pain, his leg twisted at an impossible angle as Sandy and Karen return. Sandy's eyes widen in horror, her voice a shocked rumble. "Mr. Krabs, what are you doing?" she asks, as Karen rushed to Plankton. Mr. Krabs' grin doesn't falter. "Teaching a lesson," he says, his voice a cruel crackle as he finally leaves. Sandy's face is a picture of horror, her voice a trembling trill. "What did he do to you?" she asks, her eyes on Plankton's twisted leg. Karen's screens flicker with rage, her beeps sharp. "That monster!" she says, her voice filled with fury. She quickly assesses the damage. Plankton's leg is twisted grotesquely, his tiny body trembling with pain. Sandy's hands hover over his body, unsure how to help without causing more distress. Sandy nods, her face pale with shock. "I'll get SpongeBob," she says, her voice a trembling trill. She runs to the phone, dialing with trembling fingers. "Sponge Bob, please come quick," she says, her voice a desperate hum. While Sandy is on the phone, Karen's screens flicker with medical information. She quickly assembles a makeshift splint for Plankton's leg, her beeps a frantic symphony of care as SpongeBob arrives. His eyes are wide with concern, his voice a panicked squeak. "What happened, Plankton?" he asks, his eyes damp with unshed tears. But Plankton's eye had rolled up in his head. Sandy's voice is shaky as she tells Sponge Bob the story, her eyes never leaving Plankton's trembling body. "Mr. Krabs... he was so cruel," she says, her voice a soft whisper of disbelief. Sponge Bob's face twists with anger. "Why would he do this?" he asks, his voice a strained whine. "First causing brain damage, and now..." Karen's screens glow with determination. "We'll deal with Mr. Krabs later," she beeps. "First, we need to get Plankton help." Sponge Bob nods, his eyes wide with fear. "What can we do?" he asks, his voice a choked whisper. Karen's screens flicker with information. "His leg is broken, and his sensory overload could be severe." Sponge Bob's face falls, his voice a sad squeak. "Oh no, Plankton." He gently picks up his friend, his touch as soft as a feather. Sandy watches, her eyes wide with fear. "What now?" she asks, her voice a trembling trill. "We can't just take him like this to a regular hospital. We'll have to be careful not to overwhelm his senses, and find medical help equipped for neurodivergent people like Plankton." SpongeBob speaks up. "I was born with a mild form of idiopathic Autism. Different from Plankton's I know, but my parents have taken me to a sensory-friendly clinic. They are skilled and have lots of different methods of medicine! It's called the Quiet Bubble Clinic!" Sandy nods, her eyes filling with hope. "That sounds perfect," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "Let's take him there." Karen's screens pulse with agreement. "Good thinking, Sponge Bob," she beeps. "We'll have to be careful, though. Any loud noises or sudden movements could trigger another meltdown." Sponge Bob nods, his grip on Plankton steady. "Sandy can drive," he says, his voice determined. "We'll get you to the Quiet Bubble Clinic, buddy."

ʰⁱⁱ ⁱ'ᵐ ᵃ 16ᶠ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵒˡᵈ ᵐᵃⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵐᶠ ᵒʳ ᵐʸ ᵇᶠ, ᵈⁱˢᶜ ⁱˢ: cutestbuni ❤️❤️

🖍️🌈🧮🩹🎨

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍮 ⋅ ¹²³ ➜ вαιℓєу вαкιηg ωιтн мαмα! : : ѕнє'∂ : : ! ₊˚ ・ ѕмєℓℓѕ уυмму!

⋆⭒˚𖠋𖠋𖠋*.⋆

♡˚

heyy uh im lonely asf and kinda want other furry friends soo heres random shit abt me, im a girl and im female lmao, i love watching new stuff, i love space despite not having the most knowledge on it, i love to draw soo much, im lesbian, i love dungeon meshi and hazbin hotel, i also like the owl house and arcane, i can get pretty clingy if we get close, andd im 14 (in a couple of days so it still counts lmao) anyways my discord is: pinkghostcrab

hai im lookin 4 friends:P my name is kenny/dave/greeny,, im transmasc and go by he/they pronouns if ur under the age of 18 then frend my discord yep interests; music, fnaf south park, superjail, homestuck, invader zim discord--> lam3nt.

::🦢:: ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴅɪᴠᴀ ɪᴠʏ ɪs ʏᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ! sʜʜʜʜʜʜ ::🎀:: sʜᴇ’ᴅ:: ɪᴠʏ ʜᴀs ғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ ʜᴇʀ ʏᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ! ::🦢:: ::🎀:: ::*+⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆+*::

| 🫧|╭ ⁻ˏ☀️ˎ⁻ « ʚ || вαн⁻вєєᶻ ᶜᵉᶜⁱ'ѕ αт тнє вєα¢н!! | ѕнє'∂| 🌊» ˋ★ʷʰᵒᵃ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵍ ʷᵃᵛᵉ!! ˓ ⊂🦀⊃ ˊ ˎ⁻ 🐚 ˎ╰┈>

ᡣ𐭩 ᡣ𐭩

⠟⣵⢣⡤⢄⣤⣴⣾⡿⢿⣿⡿⠉⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⢿⡻⢟⣳⣶⠾⢿⣷⣦⣀ ⠀⣸⣷⣟⣋⡉⢀⡀⠀⠀⢸⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡶⠤⠚⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⡿⠛⢁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠃⠐⡿⢻⡿⠉⡿⢿⡏⠻ ⠁⠁⠀⠀⠙⡭⢅⣈⣣⠘⢷⣿⡷⠒⠒⠛⠁⠀⠀⡠⣄⡏⠛⣛⣵⢾⢮⣥⠬⠓⠒⣒⣻⣿⣿⡓⠒⢶⣄⡢⣦⣄⠢⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠗⠁⠀⠀⢘⡻⣖⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠨⡆⢀⣠⣾⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠁⠂⠀⡠⡫⢊⡵⠟⢀⣤⣲⠝⣡⡶⢷⡟⢌⠷⣔⢌⢿⣮⡫⡳⡈⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢋⡾⠓⠀ ⠐⣦⣀⡂⠀⢀⡼⢁⣾⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡺⡂⣠⣆⡯⣋⡴⠏⣠⡾⣫⠋⢀⣾⠛⢀⣯⣿⠘⡴⠙⣇⠀⠈⢯⣐⠵⡄⣷⢲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠼⠅⠀ ⢠⣿⣿⡏⠉⠉⢀⣾⣿⣿⠴⠶⢤⠀⠀⢀⠤⠃⢮⣿⣿⢣⣟⠆⣰⢏⣾⠁⣠⣻⠃⢀⣺⣵⣟⢄⠘⡄⠘⡄⢰⠈⢧⣼⢻⣇⣼⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣸⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣿⣿⢿⡃⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⠈⢹⡃⣿⣿⢧⣎⢾⣺⢣⢟⡷⣿⡿⡿⣰⣿⣽⢿⢿⣼⠸⣧⢋⣥⠘⣦⢸⣿⣾⠏⡀⠀⠹⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⣿⣶⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⣸⡿⢋⡟⣼⣈⣶⢷⢏⣼⣿⠟⠀⡼⣾⡾⡼⠊⠘⣿⡆⢫⡾⡟⡆⢹⡸⣿⣿⢤⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⠀⢰⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣿⡇⣺⣿⣷⠛⣼⣷⣿⣿⣯⣤⢞⣾⢫⠋⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡟⣧⣿⡇⢸⣗⢿⣽⣯⡁⠀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠙⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⠛⠻⡄⠀⠀⣸⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⣬⣿⡈⢉⢏⣮⣧⣟⣡⣤⣤⣌⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠛⠳⠿⣿⣷⣻⣿⡶⣽⣿⣻⣾⡄⡹⡌⠢⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣶⣤⠆⢠⣾⡿⠁⢰⣶⣆⠀⠀⠀⢸⣾⡿⣏⣼⢽⣿⡏⠹⣏⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣶⣶⣦⣈⠫⣿⣏⣇⠻⣿⣯⡿⢠⠸⡌⣦⡀⠀⠉⢦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶⡿⠋⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⡃⡘⣳⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣳⣿⡵⠿⠛⠁⢸⣿⣹⣧⣈⣉⣵⡟⠄⠙⡌⠛⢵⣦⣀⣁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠹⣿⣿⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⣿⠀⣀⠔⢉⡷⢹⢿⢿⣿⡟⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⢠⠿⢿⡧⣿⣿⣷⠾⣷⠀⠀⢮⢳⣢⣌⠉⠞⠛⠻⢿⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠳⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡇⢰⣋⣤⡏⢣⢇⡎⡞⣿⡇⢸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠼⠷⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣴⣾⢇⡿⢸⣞⣷⣌⠢⡀⠈⠣⣙⢽⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣄⠀⠀⣹⣿⣷⡟⢿⣷⢧⣮⣾⣿⠆⡙⣿⡆⡵⣄⠀⠘⣶⠿⠶⢦⡤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⡾⡜⣷⡈⠳⣬⣥⡀⠀⠙⠛⠿⠶⢤⣤⣴⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⠀⠀⠟⣿⣛⡧⣿⢟⣵⠟⢱⣯⣆⣧⡼⢃⢿⡬⡷⣄⠀⠑⠄⠉⠀⠀⠀⠤⠚⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣯⣯⣁⣧⣸⣽⢅⠙⡝⠫⠷⠦⠀⠒⠤⢀⡀⣀⠘⠫⣶⣤⣀⠀ ⢀⣦⡀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠀⢀⡀⠽⠟⣭⣶⠿⠁⣄⠇⡜⣼⡿⠁⠘⢾⢄⡇⡞⡶⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⢳⡏⠙⠛⠻⣿⠿⣃⢞⢝⠻⢍⡀⠜⠄⠐⡄⠸⡹⢀⠀⠉⠒⢍⠢⡀⠹⣿⡳ ⣿⣿⣿⠂⠠⢞⡤⢊⢉⣠⡖⠊⠁⠋⠀⣜⠏⣼⣿⠟⣀⢠⡄⡘⣜⣱⡫⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⠦⣶⠟⣕⣞⠃⠀⠉⢶⠀⠙⢄⠑⣇⠀⠀⠱⡈⢦⡀⠀⠀⢷⠈⢆⢱⡇ ⠁⠙⠋⢀⣀⡞⢠⢫⠏⠀⠀⢀⢔⢁⣾⣏⣾⣿⠋⠉⢩⠋⢩⣞⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠔⡺⢁⡜⣻⡞⠆⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠘⡄⡌⡄⢤⡀⠙⢆⡻⢦⣦⡟⠃⠘⢸⠀ ⠀⣀⢀⡼⢻⠀⣿⢸⣦⢂⡰⠕⡳⣱⡿⠛⣡⡧⠤⠤⡇⠀⣦⠈⠙⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⢁⡎⢛⡇⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠄⠀⢻⠿⣽⣖⣌⣀⠀⠈⠉⠁⣠⣢⣾⡎⠀ ⣼⣿⣿⣅⠀⢣⢿⠈⠉⠁⠀⣲⣵⠏⢤⣾⠃⠃⣀⠀⡇⠀⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⠀⣸⡾⣿⠃⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢯⡀⠈⠻⣿⡿⢿⣍⠒⠯⡙⠫⣿⣤⣶ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⠁⢁⣤⡶⡊⠉⡟⣿⠖⢉⠎⠀⢠⡞⠉⡇⢀⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠏⢰⣿⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣣⠠⠀⠈⣎⣈⠳⣽⣶⣌⢢⠮⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⡋⢶⡟⣿⡿⠇⡀⡞⠀⠀⠈⣣⢀⡁⢸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣠⠊⣠⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠂⠀⢀⠞⢸⠠⡙⣂⠘⠘⡄⠘⣯⣿⣇⠘⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣝⠾⠮⠿⢻⣇⡈⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠏⡠⠯⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢜⣫⠉⢿⡄⢠⠀⠀⢸⣅⣤⡾⣄⣠⠎⠀⣠⠀⠈⠛⠃⢼⣓⠀⢈⣩⣡⣤⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⣤⣭⣥⡍⠈⡽⡿⠟⢦⡀⠀⠀⢸⣌⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠐⠁⠀⠸⣼⠾⠃⠁⠀⢡⣷⣁⣈⣋⢢⡼⠃⣠⠀⠠⣄⠀⠙⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿ ⣿⣿⣿⡏⠉⢣⢿⣿⡟⢠⣾⡳⡝⢭⣥⡟⠀⠀⢈⣇⣧⣤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣴⠞⠋⡇⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⣯⠴⠚⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⢰⢯⣭⣣⠀⣇⢳⠀⠙⣫⡄⣹⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣿⣿⣷⣘⢍⣻⣿⠷⠦⠼⠉⠓⢺⠝⠈⠏⠘⠀⠈⠉⠙⠛⢹⠃⠘⠀⠀⢇⢘⠀⠀⠀⠀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠛⠉⠁⣠⠬⠛⢀⣀⣛⠼⠋⠀⢰⠋⠁⠀⠀ ⠛⠟⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣽⠿⠃⠀⠀⡇⠀⠸⡆⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠧⣤⣆⠜⠁⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠈⠁⠀⠘⠦⠄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣧⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⠀⢻⣄⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠈⡄⡆⢠⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠟⠂⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣆⠀⠀⠹⠀⢷⣷⢸⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠤⠤⡄⠀ ⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⡋⢝⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⢸⡆⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣤⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠄⠐⠒⠒⠒⠨⠤⣑⠀⠀⠁⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠤⠀⢂⠀⠐⠀⠀⠈⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡇⢹⣷⣄⠀⡀⠀⡘⣄⠀⠘⡤⣿⣸⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢿⠉⠭⠓⣊⠁⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢙⣆⠀⠀ ⡀⣘⢲⣔⠲⠂⣀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⡶⠛⢛⠷⢿⡷⠿⠚⠒⠃⢉⣉⣀⡼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⣉⠺⣷⣮⡉⠑⠽⣍⡤⢀⡀⣀⠀⠀⠈⠒⠀⠉⠀

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KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 7 (Autistic author) They sit in silence for a moment, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems the only sound. Then Plankton's eye lights up. "Idea," he says, his voice a sudden burst of static. "Make something with Karen. Together." Karen's screens blink with excitement. "That sounds wonderful," she beeps. "What do you want to make?" But before Plankton can formulate a response, Patrick Star bursts in. "Karen!" he booms, his voice shaking the walls. "I want chum!" Plankton's eye darts to the door, the sensory assault starting again. "Patrick," he whispers, his body tense as a bowstring. Karen's screens quickly assess the situation. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Not now." But Patrick's enthusiasm can't be dampened so easily. He bounds over to the table, his star-shaped body bouncing. "Chum, chum, chum!" he sings, oblivious to Plankton's distress. Karen's screens flicker with annoyance, but she keeps her voice steady. "Patrick, not now," she repeats. "Plankton's not feeling well." Patrick's starry eyes widen. "Oh, sorry, buddy," he says, his voice dropping an octave. He looks at Plankton with concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, poking Plankton. Plankton jumps, his senses on high alert. The poke feels like a battering ram, and he lets out a squeak of pain. Patrick's hand retracts quickly, his expression a mix of shock and confusion. "Whoa, sorry," he says. "What's with you?" Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "I'll go make you chum." Patrick nods, his concern forgotten in the face of his hunger. "Okay, thanks, Karen," he says, his voice bouncing with excitement. She retreats leaving Plankton alone with Patrick in the living room. Patrick stares at Plankton for a moment, his expression a blend of curiosity and confusion. "You okay?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton's eye flutters closed, his body trying to absorb the sudden intensity of the interaction. "Take your time," he whispers to himself, his mantra a shield against the overwhelming world. Patrick, ever the innocent, watches him with a puzzled frown. "What's 'Take your time'?" he asks, his voice a gentle rumble. Plankton opens his eye, looking at the simplicity of Patrick's face. He scoots away. Patrick, unfazed, advances, his hand outstretched. "What's up?" he asks, poking again. The sensation of Patrick's touch is like a thousand needle pricks. Plankton yelps. Patrick, not comprehending, pokes again, his starry eyes full of innocent wonder. "Why so jumpy?" he asks, his voice a deep rumble. Plankton's body tenses with each poke, the sensation like a barrage of tiny explosions. "Patrick, please," he gasps, his voice a frantic static. But Patrick, ever the simple starfish, doesn't understand. He keeps poking, his curiosity growing. "Why?" he asks, his voice a gentle boom. "You're always so bouncy." Plankton's eye twitches with each touch. "Patrick, no," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. But Patrick, lost in his own world, doesn't notice. He giggles, poking him again. "You're like a pin cushion!" he exclaims, his voice a deep chuckle. Plankton's eye squeezes shut, his body wracked with pain. "Patrick, please," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Patrick doesn't seem to comprehend the distress he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter echoing through the room, each poke sending shockwaves of pain through Plankton's body. "You're like a squeaky toy," he says, his voice a delighted rumble. Plankton's body twitches with each touch, his voice a desperate buzz of static. "Patrick, please stop," he begs, his voice a high-pitched squeak. But Patrick's simple mind doesn't register the pain he's causing. He keeps poking, his laughter growing louder. "You're so funny!" he bellowed, his starry hands moving like a jackhammer as he starts tickling him. Plankton's body spasms with each touch, his voice a desperate symphony of static. "Patrick, stop!" he pleads, his breathing quick and shallow. But Patrick, in his blissful ignorance, only laughs harder, his massive hands poking and tickling without mercy. "You're hilarious, tiny dude!" he bellows. Plankton's body is a storm of sensory overload, his voice a high-pitched wail of static. "Patrick, please!" he begs, his limbs flailing. Patrick's laughter fills the room like a tidal wave, crashing over Plankton's desperate pleas. "You're so much fun, Planky!" he booms, his hands moving in a blur of star-shaped shadows. Plankton's body jerks uncontrollably, his screams of "No, no, no!" lost in the cacophony of Patrick's laughter. His tiny limbs flail, trying to escape the relentless onslaught of pokes and tickles. Patrick, his eyes wide with delight, doesn't see the tears forming in Plankton's eye. He just keeps poking, tickling, and laughing, oblivious to the damage he's doing. Plankton's cries escalate into a frantic symphony of squeaks and static, his body contorting in a desperate attempt to evade the starfish's torment. The room spins around him, a whirlpool of pain and sensation that threatens to swallow him whole. Patrick, his face a picture of delighted confusion, keeps poking and tickling, his laughter booming like thunder underwater. "What's the matter, little buddy?" he asks between chuckles. Plankton's body convulses with each touch, sobbing as Karen finally emerges with Patrick's chum. She sees them both on the floor. "Patrick, what are you doing?" she beeps, her voice a mix of anger and concern. But Patrick is lost in his own world of mirth, not hearing Karen's plea. "Just having some fun," he says, his voice a deep rumble of laughter. Plankton's cries become more frantic, his voice a high-pitched siren of despair. Karen quickly assesses the situation, her screens flaring with urgency. "Patrick, stop!" she beeps, her voice a sharp alarm. "You're hurting Plankton!" Patrick's laughter abruptly halts, his starry eyes blinking in surprise. He looks down at his hands, still poised to poke Plankton again. "What?" he asks, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen's screens flicker with frustration. "Patrick," she beeps, her voice firm. "Look at Plankton. He's in pain." Patrick's starry gaze shifts to Plankton, his expression shifting to one of bewilderment. "Pain?" he repeats, his voice a confused rumble. "But we're just playing." Karen gives Patrick the food, showing him out the door.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 3 (Autistic author) Karen doesn't yet realize the extent of Plankton's distress. She's aware that his moods can swing like the tides, but this seems more than a mere mood swing. "Mr. Krabs," she prompts, trying to keep him on track. "What happened with him?" Plankton's eye widens, and he starts to shiver, his tiny body trembling. "Hit," he whispers. "Hit Plankton hit. Sponge Bob see." Karen's screens flicker, trying to decode his fragmented words. "Mr. Krabs hit you?" He nods, his body still trembling. "Yes, hit Plankton." Karen's screens process the information. "That's not like him," she says, her voice a low hum of concern. "Mr. Krabs can be intense, but he's never..." Her words hang in the air, unfinished, as she tries to make sense of it all. Plankton simply nods, his tremors continuing. "Hit, hit," he whispers again, his voice like a broken record. Oblivious to his new reality, Karen tries to comfort him. "It's okay, Plankton. I'll help you. We'll get through this." Plankton's eye darts around the room, seeing patterns in the wires and circuits that make no sense. "Hit, Sponge Bob, Karen." Karen's screens flicker with confusion. "What do you mean?" Plankton tries to explain, but the words are a jumble in his head. "Sponge Bob...saw...hit." Karen's screens blink, processing his words. "Sponge Bob saw Mr. Krabs hit you?" Plankton nods, his tremors subsiding slightly. "Yes," he whispers. "Sponge Bob see." Karen's digital mind races. Mr. Krabs hitting Plankton wasn't unheard of, but the way he's reacting is unusual. "Did it hurt?" she asks, trying to keep him talking. Plankton's tremors stop for a moment, his eye focusing on her. "Hurt?" he repeats, as if the word is foreign. Then, with a wave of emotion, he nods fervently. "Yes, hurt. Got hurt Plankton felt hurt. Plankton, nothing? Plankton Sponge Bob. Plankton Karen." Karen's screens blink rapidly. Her husband's mental state has never been like this before. The idea of him feeling pain beyond the physical was alien to her programming. "What do you mean, 'Plankton nothing'?" she asks, trying to piece together his scattered thoughts. Plankton sighs, the exhaustion seeping into his voice. "Hit, hurt Plankton. Plankton fading. Plankton find Sponge Bob. Plankton now Karen. Can't stop, can't think. Take your time, take your time." Karen's screens change from confusion to determination. "I'll find Sponge Bob," she says, her voice a firm beep. "You stay here and rest." Plankton nods, his body finally still. The mention of Sponge Bob's name brings a flicker of something to his eye, a glimmer of hope or perhaps desperation. "Find Sponge Bob," he whispers, his voice now a faint echo. "Sponge Bob tell Karen." Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "I will," she says, her voice a soft beep. She leaves the room, her wheels whirring as she exits the Chum Bucket. She goes to Sponge Bob.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 8 (Autistic author) With Patrick gone, the room feels eerily quiet. Plankton lies on the floor, his body heaving with sobs. Each breath is a battle, a reminder of the pain still echoing through his body. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of frustration and sadness. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice a soft hum. She rolls over to him, her mechanical arms extending to offer comfort. "I didn't know he'd do that." Plankton's body shakes with sobs, his single eye squeezed shut. He whispers, "No more poking, Karen. No more." Karen's screens flicker with regret. "I'm so sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle beep. She reaches out with one of her arms, carefully placing it around his tiny frame. "Let's get you up," she suggests, her movements slow and deliberate. With her help, Plankton manages to stand, his legs shaking like seaweed in a storm. She leads him to the couch. "Rest," she beeps, but he's too exhausted to respond. Karen sits beside him, her screens dimming as she watches him. The silence is a soothing balm to his frayed nerves, the hum of the Chum Bucket's systems a lullaby compared to the chaos of Patrick's laughter. "Karen," he whispers after a moment, his voice a weak static. Her screens light up with concern. "Yes, Plankton?" she beeps. "Plankton not want to go back to how it was," he whispers, his voice a fragile thread. "The stealing, the fighting." Karen's screens flicker with a sadness she rarely shows. "I know," she drapes a blanket over him, tucking him in. Her voice is a soothing beep. "You don't have to, Plankton. We'll find a new way." She caresses his shaky hand. Plankton nods, his eye finally closing in relief. The warmth of the blanket and Karen's gentle touch offer a semblance of calm in the storm of sensory overload, his crying slowing. "Thank Karen," he murmurs, his voice a tired static as he squeezes her hand once. Her screens glow with affection. "You're welcome, Plankton," she beeps. "Rest now." She dims the lights once more, watching over him as she held his hand. Plankton's body finally stills, the storm of sensations receding as he surrenders to sleep. Karen's screens flicker with a quiet relief. She sits beside him.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 2 (Autistic author) When Karen finally did come to check on him, her digital voice was cool and devoid of emotion. "Plankton, dear, you've been in here for quite some time," she said. "Another fail, huh?" Plankton's tiny shoulders slumped. He couldn't bring himself to explain the chaos in his head. How could he possibly make Karen, his logical, computer wife, understand the tumult of sensations that had overtaken his being? He just nodded. Karen's screen flickered, perhaps processing his lack of enthusiasm as another defeat. "You know what you need," she said, her voice still calm and soothing. "Some good old-fashioned break from scheming." Plankton nodded weakly, unable to argue, which she found unusual. "Why don't you take a walk?" she suggested, her voice a gentle nudge. "Fresh air can do wonders for the mind." Plankton didn't answer. Karen knew better than to push him when he was like this. She had seen his mood swings before, his moments of despair after a failed plan, but this was different. This was something she hadn't seen in her decades of being by his side. "Plankton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked again, her synthetic voice a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions she couldn't understand. He nodded, trying to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "Sure okay, Karen." Karen's concern grew as she watched him struggle to his feet. It was clear that his usual boundless energy was nowhere to be found. He stumbled out of the bedroom and into the hallway, his steps slow and deliberate. The once-mighty Plankton, reduced to a mere shadow of his former self. As he approached the door of the Chum Bucket, Karen followed, her sensors tuned to his every movement. The usual sounds of their underwater world were amplified, echoing through the narrow corridors like a symphony of chaos. Each step was a battle, each breath a victory. He paused, his hand shaking as it hovered over the handle. "Maybe not today," he murmured, his voice barely audible over his own racing heartbeat. Karen stood silently beside him, her systems trying to comprehend his sudden change in behavior. He had always been so driven, so focused on his goals, but now his eye had a faraway look, as if he was seeing something that she couldn't. "Take your time," she said, her tone softer than ever. "I'll be here when you're ready." Plankton looked up at her. "Take your time," he murmured, echoing Karen's words. "Take your time." She looks at him. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." He repeats aloud back to Karen, who's now even more concerned, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's voice sounds strange, echoing his own words as if they're coming from someone else, from another time. It's a peculiar behavior, one she's never observed in him before. He walks over to the control room, where his various inventions are lined up like a strange army of metal and wires. Each gizmo and gadget a silent testament to his unyielding quest for the Krabby Patty formula. But now, they seemed like mere toys, overwhelming him with their complexity. The room spins, and Plankton feels like he's drowning in a sea of his own creations. "Take your time, take your time," he whispers, his voice a distant echo in his own mind. He sits down in his chair, his eye glazed over, and repeats the phrase over and over. "Take your time, take your time, take your time." The words become a mantra, a lifeline in the storm of sensory overload. Karen watches from her console, her algorithms racing to understand this new behavior. The phrase rolls off his tongue, a soothing rhythm in the cacophony of his thoughts. "Take your time, take your time." It's as if he's trying to convince his own brain to slow down, to make sense of the world again. The echo of his voice in the metal walls of the Chum Bucket seems to calm him, if only a little. Karen doesn't know what to make of this. Whatever the cause, she knows she must tread carefully. "Plankton," Karen says, trying to connect to his current state, "I'm here for you." He looks at her. "Take your time," he murmurs again. "Plankton I'm here for you." He parrots. Karen's systems whirr, analyzing the change in his language patterns. His usual sharp wit and sarcasm have given way to something more... mechanical. It's as if he's trying to communicate but his words are stuck in a loop, like a broken record. She decides to play along, hoping it might snap him out of it. "Take your time, take your time," she repeats back to him, her digital voice mimicking his tone as closely as possible. For a moment, his eye brightens, as if he's found a familiar rhythm in the chaos. Then, just as quickly, it dims again. "Take your time, take your time," he murmurs, his gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the next. Karen's screens change from concern to confusion. She's observed Plankton's moods and quirks for years, but this is something she can't quite pinpoint. "Take your time, take your time," Plankton whispers again, his voice a strange mix of urgency and defeat. Karen nods, trying to comfort him with her usual efficiency. "Of course," she says, her voice a soft beep in the silence. "I'll always be here for you. Let's eat dinner." But Plankton doesn't move. He just sits there, staring into space, his hand still hovering over the control panel. Karen doesn't understand why he's so upset. To her, it's just another day, another failed attempt at the Krabby Patty formula. But to Plankton, it's like the world has shifted on its axis, leaving his tiny body adrift in a sea of sensations he can't comprehend. "Dinner will be ready soon," she says, trying to bring him back to the present. But Plankton seems lost in his own thoughts, his eye unfocused. So she goes up to him. "Plankton?" she asks, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?" He jumps at her touch, his senses on high alert. His hand goes to where she touched him, his opposite hand doing the same to the other shoulder. "Karen," he says slowly, his voice a mechanical whisper. Karen's circuits flicker with confusion. She doesn't understand why he's so on edge, why his reactions are so exaggerated. To her, this is just another setback. "Plankton," she repeats, her hand back on his shoulder. "You need to eat. It'll make you feel better." Karen's touch feels unbearable. He flinches, his skin crawling with the sensation. It's too much. "No," he says, his voice a croak. "No dinner." Karen's screens blink, recalculating her approach. "Okay," she says, her voice even. "But you have to eat something." She pats him gently, but it feels jolting. "No," Plankton whispers, his voice a fragile thread. The slightest touch feels like a thunderclap in his newfound sensory prison. Karen's screens flicker, unsure of what to make of his sudden aversion. "Take your time," she suggests again, hoping the mantra will bring him comfort. But Plankton simply shakes his head, his eye wide as he starts to rock back and forth. Karen watches, her confusion growing. "What is it?" she asks, her voice a soothing hum. "What's wrong?" Plankton's gaze flits around the room, his pupil expanding and contracting as he tries to process everything at once. "Can't...can't explain," he stammers, his voice now a jagged mess of static. Karen's screens light up with analysis, trying to piece together what could have caused this drastic shift in his behavior. Could it be something in the latest Krabby Patty attempt? A side effect of his latest invention? "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft beep, "What happened at the Krusty Krab today?" He looks at her, his expression unreadable. "Mr. Krabs...Plankton Sponge Bob, Plankton. Karen..." He trails off, his eye filling with a sudden despair. It's clear that his usual sharpness has been replaced by a fog of overwhelming sensation.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 6 (Autistic author) Karen watches him, her screens a flurry of analysis. "How does it taste?" she asks, her voice a hopeful beep. Plankton pauses, his expression unreadable. "Tastes," he murmurs. "Good. Toast good." Karen nods, her screens reflecting relief. "Good," she echoes. "Now, let's make a plan for the day." Plankton's gaze remains fixed on his half-eaten toast, his mind still reeling from the sensory assault. "Plan," he repeats, his voice a soft static. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "We'll start small," she beeps, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get through today, okay?" But as soon as her hand touches him, Plankton flinches. The sensation is like a thousand jellyfish stings, and he jerks away. "What's wrong?" Karen asks, her screens flickering with worry. Plankton's eye widens, his hand going to his shoulder where she touched him. He starts to repeat the phrase again, "Take your time," but his voice is overwhelmed by the sudden intensity of his senses. "Too much," he whispers, his body trembling. Karen quickly withdraws her hand, her screens flickering with concern. "I'm sorry," she beeps, her voice gentle. "Let's try something else." Plankton nods, his hand still on his shoulder, his body slowly calming. "Okay," he whispers. "Not tap. Karen can rub. Hug from Plankton. Not jab. Not poke." Karen's screens flicker with a new understanding of his needs. She moves closer, her hand hovering over his shoulder before gently placing it there, her fingers tracing small circles in a rhythmic pattern. The contact is soothing, not overwhelming. "Is this better?" she asks, her voice a gentle beep. Plankton nods, his body visibly relaxing. "Good," he murmurs, his voice a quiet static. "Rub, rub." He starts to mimic her motion with his other hand, creating a mirrored pattern on his opposite shoulder. The repetition seems to calm him, the rhythm a gentle lullaby for his frazzled mind. Karen's screens analyze his reaction, storing the information for future reference. "Okay," she says, her voice a soft beep. "We'll stick to gentle touches." With a nod, Plankton begins to breathe more evenly. The sensation of the rubbing calms him, like a gentle tide washing over him. "We'll start with simple tasks," Karen beeps, her voice a reassuring melody. "Things that won't overstimulate you." Plankton nods, his hands now resting on the table. "Okay," he says, his voice a steady static. "Simple." Karen's screens glow with a soft light as she considers their options. "How about we start with something you love?" she suggests. "Like working on the Krabby Patty formula?" But Plankton shakes his head, the very mention of the Krabby Patty causing his body to tense up again. "No," he whispers, his voice a harsh static. "Not formula. No more steal." Karen's screens flicker with surprise. "You don't want to work on the formula?" Plankton shakes his head again, his voice barely audible. "No more steal," he repeats. Karen's screens process his words, his change in attitude unexpected. "You don't want to steal the Krabby Patty formula anymore?" Plankton's eye blinks slowly. "No," he says, his voice a solemn beep. "New plan. Make Plankton happy." Karen's screens blink rapidly, trying to comprehend his shift in focus. "Okay," she says, her voice a thoughtful hum. "What makes you happy, Plankton?" He looks up, his expression pensive. "Karen," he says, his voice a weak static. "Love Karen." Karen's screens freeze for a moment, before lighting up with understanding. "You love me?" she beeps, her voice a surprised chime. Plankton nods, his face a mask of seriousness. "Yes," he murmurs. "Love Karen." Karen's screens flicker with a mix of emotions she's never felt before. Love is a concept her programming doesn't fully grasp, but she knows it's important to Plankton. "Thank you," she says, her voice a warm beep. "But we still need to find something for you to do, something that won't be too much for your sensory processing." Plankton nods, his thoughts racing. "Help," he whispers. "Help Karen." Karen's screens flicker with love and determination. "Of course," she says, her voice a warm beep. "We'll find something you enjoy. Maybe we can start with something that doesn't involve the Krabby Patty." Plankton's expression softens, his trembling hands coming to rest on the table. "No more fighting," he murmurs. "Peace." Karen nods, her screens reflecting a deep sadness she's never expressed before. "Okay," she beeps. "We'll find something that brings you joy."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 12 (Autistic author) 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 Sandy's eyes follow his finger as it traces through the grid. "Ah, here it is," she says, her voice a calm hum. "I'm gonna go find Karen, I'll be back!" But then Mr. Krabs, who hasn't had Plankton try to steal the formula since the fry pan incident, comes in to check and see what he's up to. "What are ye doing?" Mr. Krabs snaps, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Why isn't this little troublemaker trying to steal me formula?" Plankton's antennae wilt at the sound of Mr. Krabs' gruff voice, his sensory haven shattered by the intrusion. Mr. Krabs storms into the room, his claws waving in the air. "What's this nonsense?" he barks, his voice a thunderclap to Plankton. "A book; more like some blueprints!" Mr. Krabs sneers, his claws snatching the word search from Plankton's trembling hands. Plankton's eye widens with horror as Mr. Krabs crinkles the pages, ripping up the book. Mr. Krabs rips the pages with a satisfied smirk, his eyes gleaming with malice. "This is what happens when ye too cozy with the enemy," he says, his voice a harsh crackle as he tips the bookshelf onto the floor with a bang. Plankton's antennae snap back, his body tense with fear. The painful memory of the frying pan flashes through his mind, his voice a terrified static. "No!" he squeaks. Mr. Krabs looms over him, his eyes a cold, hard gleam. "What's wrong with ye?" he barks, his voice a rough scratch of sarcasm. "Ye gonna cry?" Plankton's eye fills with tears. "No," he whimpers. Mr. Krabs laughs, his cackle echoing through the room. "Look at the tiny thief, so scared of a little noise!" he sneers, his voice a grating static. Plankton's body shrinks, his antennae drooping. "Krabs," he whispers, his voice a desperate static. Mr. Krabs' laughter fills the room, his claws still gripping the torn pages. "Look at the wittle thief," he mocks, his voice a cruel cackle. Plankton's single eye darts around the room, seeking escape from the crushing wave of stimulation. The pressure of Mr. Krabs' stare is like a boulder on his chest. "What's the matter, Plankton?" Mr. Krabs sneers, leaning down so his face is inches from Plankton's. "Afraid I'll catch you red- handed?" Plankton's antennae flatten against his head, his breath quick and shallow. "No," he whispers, his voice a static hiss of fear. Mr. Krabs' looming presence is like a shadow over him, his voice a grating buzz. "What's the matter, Plankton?" he sneers. "Can't handle a little competition?" Plankton flinches, his antennae retracting. The pressure of the crab's eyes bore into his soul, his voice a panicked static. "No, Mr. Krabs, please," he whispers. Mr. Krabs' claw slams down onto the coffee table, the impact rattling everything on it. "I see," he says, his voice a cruel chuckle. "Ye've gone soft."

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 9 (Autistic author) The quiet of the room envelops them like a warm sea breeze, the only sound his soft, even breaths. Her grip on his hand tightens slightly, a silent promise to protect and guide him through this new chapter of his life. As her hand strokes his gently in a comforting rhythm, her gal pal, Sandy, unexpectedly comes in through the door. "Mornin'!" she chirps, her cheerful voice piercing the calm. Plankton jolts awake, his eye snapping open like a trapdoor. The sudden shift from sleep to wakefulness is jarring, his heart racing like a tiny engine. "S-Sandy?" he stammers, his voice a static whisper. Sandy's cheerfulness doesn't waver. "Hey there, little buddy!" she says, her voice a sunlit melody. But Plankton's heightened sensitivity turns her greeting into a cacophony. He flinches, his grip on Karen's hand tightening. "It's okay," Karen beeps soothingly, her screens reflecting his distress. Sandy gets a word search book out. "I just got it today!" Plankton's eye, though tired, lights up slightly at the sight of the book. The pages are a calming white with neatly arranged letters, the colors a gentle wash of blue and yellow. "Want to see?" she asks, her voice a warm trill. He nods, his body still tense but his curiosity piqued. Sandy opens the word search book, her fingers tracing the rows and columns with a gentle precision. "Look, Karen," she says, her voice a soft trill. "It's all about science." Plankton's eye, though still wary, is drawn to the page. He scans the words, his brain lighting up with recognition. "Words," he whispers, his voice a steady static as she sets the book down. The sight of the word search grounds him, the predictability of the patterns offering a comforting routine. His breathing slows, the chaos of his senses retreating like the tide. "Find," he says, looking at the index. Sandy's smile is infectious, her enthusiasm for the simple task contagious. "Okay, let's find some words!" she says, her voice a gentle trill. She points to the first puzzle. "How about this one?" Plankton nods, his eye focusing on the page. The challenge of finding words within the grid is a comforting distraction from the sensory overload. "Start," he whispers, his voice a firm static. Sandy nods, her thumbs tucked into the pages to keep their place. "Okay, we're looking for 'jellyfish scientific name,'" she asks, her voice a gentle trill. Plankton's mind latches onto the task, the letters becoming a puzzle to solve. "Medusae," he murmurs, his voice a focused static. Sandy's eyes light up with excitement. "That's right!" she says, her voice a delighted trill. "Good job, Planks!" Plankton feels a small spark of pride, his focus narrowing to the word in question. The world around him fades into the background as he scans the grid. Each letter is a stepping stone in a vast, orderly sea. "Good job," Karen beeps, her screens illuminating with pride. "You're doing great." Plankton nods, his eye locked on the word "medusae" he's just found. The simple act of locating the word in the jumble of letters brings a sense of peace, a respite from the sensory onslaught. He goes to the next when Sandy interrupts his focus. "So, Plankton," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "How's your day been?" He can't multitask, which Sandy doesn't notice. Plankton's mind is fully absorbed by the word search, each letter a piece of a puzzle he's eager to solve. Her question hangs in the air, a bubble waiting to pop, but he's too engrossed to respond right away. Finally, he looks up, his gaze shifting from the page to her face. "Day?" he repeats, his voice a confused static. Sandy nods, her expression gentle. "Yeah, how have you been?" Plankton's gaze flits back to the word search, his hand twitching to point out the next word. "Words," he says, his voice a focused static. "Words." But frustrated Sandy thinks he's just trying to ignore her, and she interrupts him again. "Plankton, I'm talking to you," she says, her voice a gentle nudge. Plankton's single eye darts back to her face, his grip on the word search pencil tightening. "Words," he whispers, his voice a static echo of his thoughts. "Words." He tries to get back to it, but Sandy's not satisfied. "But how are you, Plankton?" she presses, her voice a persistent hum. The word search is a safe haven, but he knows Sandy waits for an answer. He's getting frustrated. He takes a deep breath, his antennae fluttering. "Okay," he whispers, his voice a static sigh. "Tell Sandy." Sandy leans in, her face a picture of concern. "What's going on, Plankton?" she asks, her voice a gentle breeze. He looks back at the word search, the letters blurring slightly. He's tired of being interrupted. "Plankton has words now," he says, his voice a firm static. "Words make happy." Sandy's not sure what he means, but she does want to have a conversation. So, how does she get him to interact?

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 5 (Autistic author) The next morning, Karen wakes up to find Plankton out of bed. He's standing in the middle of the room, his eye focused on the spinning fans of the air conditioner. Karen's screens light up with concern as she assesses his state. "Plankton," she beeps gently. "How did you sleep?" Plankton's eye doesn't move from the hypnotic spin of the fans. "Fan spin," he says, his voice a monotone. Karen's screens blink, trying to understand his single-word reply. "The fans are spinning?" she asks, hoping to engage him. Plankton nods slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Spin, spin, spin," he murmurs. Karen's screens flicker. "Karen," Plankton says. "Fan spin." "The spinning is soothing to you?" she asks. Plankton nods, his voice a faint echo. "Spin, spin, spin. Good spin." Karen's screens process the information, formulating a new approach. "Let's go downstairs," she suggests, her voice a gentle beep. "We'll start with a simple routine. Breakfast." Plankton nods, his gaze still fixed on the fans. With a final nod to the spinning blades, he follows her out of the bedroom. The journey downstairs is a minefield of sounds and sights, but he takes it step by step, his hand gripping the railing tightly. The kitchen is a blur of colors and noises, but Karen's calm voice guides him through it all. "First," she beeps, "let's start with something easy. How about a glass of water?" Plankton nods, his movements still mechanical. He watches as she fills a glass, the water's surface dancing in the light. It's mesmerizing, and for a moment, the world stops spinning. He takes the glass, his trembling hand bringing it to his lips, the cool liquid sliding down his throat. "Water," he murmurs. "Good, water." The simple task seems to ground him a bit, and Karen takes note of the small victory. "Now, let's try some toast," she says, her voice a comforting beep. She slides a piece of bread into the toaster, the sound of the lever clicking into place another beat in the rhythm of their morning. Plankton nods, his attention drawn to the toaster's glowing coils. He watches, his eye widening as the bread turns golden brown. The smell fills the room, a comforting scent that penetrates the fog in his head. "Toast," he says, his voice a bit stronger. But as the toaster pops, the sudden noise jolts him like an electric shock. "Too loud," he whispers, his eye darting around the room in panic. Karen's screens flicker with empathy. "I'm sorry," she says, her voice a soothing hum. She quickly retrieves the toast, placing it gently on a plate. "Let's sit down," she suggests, guiding him to the table. "Take it slow." They sit, and Plankton fidgets in his chair, his eye darting around the room. "Take your time," Karen reminds him, her voice a steady beep. He nods, focusing on the toast. Each bite is a tiny triumph, his senses adjusting to the new world. The crunch of the bread, the warmth on his tongue, the smell of the butter spreading. It's overwhelming, but he's making progress.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 11 (Autistic author) As they leave the room, Plankton's sobs slowly ease, the word search book clutched to his chest like a talisman. The gentle hum of Karen's wheels fading with distance, he focuses on the patterns of light reflecting off the pages. In the hallway, Karen beeps with urgency. "Sandy, Plankton's been through a lot," she explains. "He's neurodivergent now. He can't handle touch like he used to, and his senses are heightened." Sandy's eyes widen with surprise. "What does that mean?" she asks, her voice a confused rumble. Karen's screens flicker with patience. "It means his brain functions differently now," she beeps. "He's extra sensitive to stimuli, and certain things that were normal before can now be painful or overwhelming for him." Sandy's gaze softens with understanding. "Oh," she says, her voice a quiet rumble. "I had no idea." She looks back at Plankton's closed door, guilt heavy in her eyes. "What can we do?" Karen's screens flicker with thought. "We need to be patient and learn," she beeps. "Adapt to his new needs, and support him in his journey." Sandy nods, determined to make it right. "How?" she asks, her voice a hopeful trill. "We start by respecting his boundaries," Karen explains, her screens glowing with sincerity. "No touching unless he asks for it. And we speak softly, giving him time to process what we say." Sandy nods, absorbing the new information. "I can do that," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "But what about playing?" "Quiet games, like word searches or board games. No roughhousing or poking. I'm gonna go rest." Sandy goes back to see Plankton, his muffled sobs in the quiet space. Sandy's heart aches with regret. "I'm sorry, Plankton," she says, her voice a tender trill. She sits beside his shaking form, her hand hovering over his shoulder before thinking better of it. Plankton's sobs slow, his body still tense. He opens his eye, looking at Sandy. "Words," he whispers, holding up the book. Sandy nods, her gaze gentle. "Words it is," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She sits beside him on the couch, careful not to touch his skin as she opens the book to the next puzzle. "What's this word?" she asks, her finger pointing to the list. Plankton's eye locks onto the word. "Kelp," he murmurs, his voice a soft static. He traces the letters in the grid, writing it in the crossword puzzle. Sandy nods, her eyes focused on the puzzle. "Good job," she says, her voice a gentle hum. "You're so smart." Plankton's antennae twitch with a hint of pride, his breathing evening out. "Words," he repeats, his voice a steady static. Sandy nods, understanding. "Words are important to you now," she says, her voice a soft rumble of support. "We'll find more puzzles." "We'll find more puzzles?" Plankton repeats. Sandy nods, her face a picture of sincerity. "Yes," she says, her voice a warm trill. "As many as you want." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly, his interest piqued. "More words?" Sandy's smile is a warm glow, her voice a gentle rumble of agreement. "As many as you want, buddy." Plankton's single eye brightens at the promise, his body slowly uncoiling from his protective ball. "Book," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the next word. "Find." Sandy nods, her finger moving to the list. "Okay, we're looking for 'favorite food of sea horses,'" she says, her voice a comforting hum. Plankton's eye flicks to the grid, his mind racing. "Myr- t-le," he stammers, his voice a crackling static. Sandy's face lights up with a grin. "You got it!" she exclaims, her voice a delighted trill. She watches him trace the letters, her heart swelling with pride. He finds the word quickly, his antennae waving with excitement. "Good job, Plankton!" she says. His body relaxes slightly, his enjoyment of the word search evident. Sandy's voice is soothing as they continue through the puzzles, her hands resting carefully on her knees. "What's this one?" she asks, pointing to another word. Plankton's eye scans the list, his antennae quivering with anticipation. "J-J-Jellyfish," he stammers, his voice a nervous static. The word brings back memories of his buddy, SpongeBob. Sandy nods, her smile gentle. "You got it," she says, her voice a comforting hum. She points to the grid. "Where is it?" Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement as he searches the letters, his single eye darting back and forth. "It," he whispers, his voice a focused static as he points to the word hidden within the puzzle. Sandy's grin spreads, her voice a warm melody. "Great job!" she praises, her thumbs up in the air. Plankton's antennae quiver with happiness, his eye lighting up. "More," he whispers, his voice a hopeful static. Sandy nods, her expression earnest. "As many as you want," she says, her voice a warm trill. She opens the book to the next puzzle, her fingers hovering over the page. Plankton's body uncoils further, his interest piqued by the promise of more words. "Find," he whispers, his voice a soft static. He points to the list of words to find. Sandy nods, her face a canvas of understanding. "Alright, what's next?" she asks, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton's antennae twitch with excitement, his gaze darting over the list. "Treasure," he murmurs, his voice a hopeful static.

KAREN REACHING AUTISM pt. 4 (Autistic author) In the dim light of the evening, the Krusty Krab was quiet, the usual bustle replaced by a calm that felt eerie. Sponge Bob was sweeping the floor, his thoughts on Plankton. He looked up as Karen approached, his smile fading at the sight of her concerned expression. "Karen," he began, his spongey voice tinged with anxiety, "I need to tell you what happened to Plankton." Karen's screens brighten with anticipation. "Please do," she beeps, her wheels stopping in front of him. Sponge Bob's eyes dart to the floor, his sponge body drooping slightly. "Mr. Krabs was just trying to protect this formula, and Plankton...he just knocked Plankton in the head. Plankton woke up and then without a word ran back to the Chum Bucket." Karen's screens flicker with the gravity of the situation. "How did Mr. Krabs hit him?" Sponge Bob's grip on the mop tightens. "With a frying pan," he confesses, his eyes wide with guilt. Karen's screens flicker with understanding. "That would explain his current state," she murmurs, her voice a steady beep. "Sponge Bob, do you know how badly he's been hurt?" Sponge Bob shakes his head, the guilt washing over him in waves. "No, not really," he says, his voice quavering. Karen's screens flicker with a mix of sympathy and urgency. "I see," she says. "Thanks." With newfound purpose, she spins around and heads back to the Chum Bucket. Back in the control room, Plankton is still rocking back and forth, his hand over his head as if trying to hold his thoughts in place. The door to the Chum Bucket opens, and Karen rolls in, her screens reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Plankton," she says, her voice a soft hum, "I talked to Sponge Bob. He saw what happened." Plankton's rocking stops, his eye swiveling to meet hers. "Sponge Bob?" "Yes," Karen says, her screens pulsing with the weight of her words. "He saw Mr. Krabs hit you with the frying pan." Plankton's body goes still, his tremors ceasing instantly. "Sponge Bob saw," he whispers, his voice devoid of emotion. "Tell Karen." "Yes," Karen beeps, nodding her mechanical head. "He told me. I'm going to help you." Without warning, a scanning beam shoots out of Karen's console, enveloping Plankton as his brain is scanned. The results are quickly analyzed, and the screens flash with a series of diagrams and data that even Karen's advanced systems take a moment to digest. "The scan reveals...unusual patterns," she says, her voice a measured beep. Plankton's eye widen with fear, his body tensing as he waits for her verdict. "What does that mean?" he asks, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Karen's screens change to display a 3D image of his brain, the structure illuminated with neon colors. "You've sustained neurodivergence," she explains, her voice a calm beep. "The impact has altered your neural connections, resulting in irreversible autism." Plankton's body goes rigid, his breathing shallow. The word "autism" hangs in the air like a heavy anchor, dragging his spirits down to the murky depths of the ocean floor. "Irreversible?" he whispers, his voice fragile as sea glass. Karen nods gravely. "The good news is, we can adapt. We can learn to navigate this new world of sensations together," she beeps. "It's getting late. Let's go to bed." Plankton nods, his body feeling like it's made of lead. The idea of sleep seems like a welcome escape from the overwhelming day, but as he tries to get up, the room spins again. "Karen," he says, his voice weak. "Can't." With a gentle nudge, Karen helps him to his feet, her wheels moving silently beside him as they make their way to the tiny elevator. The ride up feels like an eternity, his senses heightened to every creak and groan of the metal box. When the doors open, the lights of the hallway are a glaring assault on his eye. He squints, his hand reaching out to the wall for support. In their bedroom, Karen helps him into his bed. The softness of the covers is a stark contrast to the harshness of his new reality. "Take your time," she says, her voice a gentle hum. Plankton nods, his breathing shallow. He closes his eye, and the room seems to fade away, replaced by a whirlpool of swirling thoughts and sensations. Karen's screens flicker with a plan. "Rest," she beeps, her voice a soft comfort. "We'll face tomorrow together." She dims the lights.

🩷☁️

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𝖂𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊? 🥩🦷🩸💉🅾️🆎🅱️🅰️ Hey, I’m Aspen :3 if it wasn’t obvious, i’m clearly desperate 4 friends, so here we are :3 16 he/they/it mlm online all the time ⚠️⚠️15 UNDER DNI⚠️⚠️ one thing about me is that I *love* heavy metal music more specifically, death metal and black metal i’m really into bands such as cannibal corpse, slipknot, Burzum, darkthrone, H.I.M, and more i also like newer artists too, such as whatsaheart, horrormovies, g0r3c0r3, rebyyzzx, etc I’m in a few popular fandoms, such as pjsk, arcane, undertale, deltarune, and mortal kombat My discord is .join.me.in.death. Hope we can be friends! (i’m so alone omg.)

𝖂𝖔𝖓’𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊? 🥩🦷🩸💉🅾️🆎🅱️🅰️♥️ Hey, I’m Aspen :3 if it wasn’t obvious, i’m clearly desperate 4 friends, so here we are :3 16 he/they/it mlm online all the time ⚠️⚠️15 UNDER DNI⚠️⚠️ one thing about me is that I *love* heavy metal music more specifically, death metal and black metal i’m really into bands such as cannibal corpse, slipknot, Burzum, darkthrone, H.I.M, and more i also like newer artists too, such as whatsaheart, horrormovies, g0r3c0r3, rebyyzzx, etc I’m in a few popular fandoms, such as pjsk, arcane, undertale, deltarune, and mortal kombat My discord is .join.me.in.death. Hope we can be friends! (i’m so alone omg.) ALSO IF YOU SEE THE SAME MESSAGE WITH THE USER bury.mine , ITS MY ALT ACCOUNT PLS IGNORE IT .join.me.in.death., meat, teeth, blood, needle, blood type, be my friend, discord, add me, mlm, death metal, i need friends

ggﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ﷽ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִ ֶ 𓂃༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆᯓᡣ𐭩𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

୭ ˚.⁺⊹ looking 4 friends im NOT dry + maybe funny(??) discord : pinkeyeshadow

⣭⣥⣭⣭⠠⣭⣬⣥⣶⣦⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⢖⣐⣶⣶⣶⣬⢰⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⣭⠀⠳⠌⡳⢌⢣⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⢿⣷⣿⣿⣿⢿⣟⣿⣟⣿⣽⣿⣻⣾⡿⠊⠀⠉⠱⣚⣭⡉⡶⡺⠵⠒⠿⢿⣿⣿⣽⣿⠿⠛⠀⠀⠄⠘⡬⢣⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⣿⣻⣯⣷⣿⣾⢿⣻⣿⢾⣿⣽⣾⢟⡫⠁⢀⠈⡐⠀⠁⠀⡀⠄⡠⢀⠄⡠⢀⠀⠉⠛⠉⠀⡐⢈⠈⠐⠀⡱⢣⠀⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢿⣻⣽⣿⣳⣿⣾⡿⣿⣽⣿⣳⣿⢫⣪⠂⢀⠂⣼⣿⣷⣦⠀⠄⡑⢠⢁⢊⡐⠌⡰⠁⡄⢀⠀⠀⢠⣾⡿⠂⡐⢣⠀⣭⠓⡱⡜⢢⢇ ⣿⣿⡿⣟⣾⡿⣷⣿⣻⣿⣽⣾⣇⣖⡋⠃⠀⢂⠠⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⡀⠆⠌⠤⠐⡌⠄⡱⠀⢆⠠⠈⡀⠌⠻⠃⣌⢣⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷ ⣿⣽⣿⢿⣻⣽⣿⣾⢿⣽⣾⣯⡿⠋⠀⡀⠀⠆⣀⠁⡉⠛⠃⠠⣁⢂⠩⠐⠌⡡⠐⡌⢄⠩⣀⠒⡀⠐⢨⠐⡀⠈⡖⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⣿⣟⣯⣷⡿⣿⣻⣾⡟⠁⢀⠒⡀⠆⠰⡀⢅⢂⡑⠨⡁⢄⠢⠀⢀⠘⢠⠑⡠⢊⠐⡄⠒⡀⠈⢆⡐⠡⠀⠘⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣾⣿⣻⣾⣟⣯⣿⣷⣿⡏⠀⡐⠨⢄⠡⢊⠡⡐⠌⡠⢂⡑⠨⠄⠂⣼⠀⡘⢠⠂⢅⠂⡅⠢⢁⢀⡄⠂⢄⠃⡡⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣽⣿⣽⣷⡿⣿⡯⠃⠛⠁⡀⠆⡑⢂⠡⢂⠡⢂⡑⠰⡀⠆⢡⠈⣴⣿⠀⠌⡐⠌⡂⠌⠤⠑⠂⢸⣿⡄⠈⠔⢡⠈⠀⣉⣉⣉⣉⣉⡉ ⣥⣬⣤⣥⣦⡔⣠⠀⡀⠆⠀⠐⡌⡐⠀⢀⠃⡌⠰⢀⠃⠔⡈⢀⠞⣛⣻⡄⠈⢄⠃⡌⢘⡀⢃⢀⣿⡿⠿⣆⠈⠰⢈⠄⢐⠲⢢⠖⣢⠝ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣇⢸⠀⡐⠌⠀⠂⠔⡈⠄⢀⠣⠐⡡⢊⠀⢂⣴⣿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣦⠀⠊⢄⠡⠐⢀⣾⣿⣿⠿⣿⡄⠁⠆⡐⠈⡍⢧⠚⡥⢚ ⣿⣽⣷⣿⣻⡷⢸⠀⡐⠀⣴⠈⠄⠁⡂⢀⠢⠑⡰⢀⢰⣿⣿⡟⠀⠸⢿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣬⣄⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠛⡇⠈⢒⠠⢠⡙⢆⡛⡌⢧ ⣿⣻⣿⣾⢿⣛⢸⠀⠄⢾⣿⠀⠈⠀⣿⠀⠢⢑⡐⢂⢸⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣼⣧⣌⡀⠂⢤⣑⠢⡄⡌⣄ ⣉⣋⣑⣋⣋⡃⣘⠀⡐⠈⠃⠀⣂⡀⠹⡄⠁⠆⡐⢂⠀⣿⣻⣟⣤⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣴⣿⣶⣿⣿⣦⠰⣌⠳⣘⠴⣊ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⠀⡐⠡⠊⢰⣿⣿⣄⡁⠈⡐⢀⢀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣬⣶⣦⣭⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣁⠲⣌⢣⠍⡶⢡ ⣿⢿⣯⣿⣟⣿⣿⠀⠠⡑⠀⣾⣿⣯⢿⣿⣆⠀⠡⠈⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠟⢛⡉⡔⣂⠁⠓⠈⠒⣍⣒⢣ ⣿⣿⣿⣳⣿⢾⣿⠀⠡⡐⠀⣿⣷⣿⣿⣻⣿⣦⡀⠀⣷⣶⡖⠀⠀⢰⣷⡌⢥⣭⡬⣁⡰⠖⠀⠐⢲⠸⡜⢢⡕⢪⡅⢯⢩⡹⡑⠦⢎⠲ ⣿⣻⣷⡿⣯⣿⡿⠄⠐⠐⠠⠀⠉⢻⢷⡿⢿⠿⡿⢦⡼⠏⠀⢀⠀⢸⣿⡃⠀⠲⠆⣻⡇⠀⡌⠀⢣⡙⡜⢥⠪⡕⡸⢆⠳⡰⢍⡙⣎⡱ ⣿⣻⣽⣿⠿⢋⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠖⣲⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⠀⢀⠂⣽⣿⣿⣿⣟⠈⣭⣥⣤⣉⣀⣀⣁⣈⣀⠀⡁⠑⢊⠑⢥⢋⡼⢰⠱ ⠿⠿⠋⣡⣴⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢸⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠌⡀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡯⠐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⡀⠫⢔⠫⡜ ⠂⠐⠛⠛⠻⠿⠡⠾⠿⠿⠉⢤⡃⢸⣿⠇⡜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣉⣛⣛⣛⣡⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠠⣓⠄⠉⢞⡸ ⠰⣀⠖⡰⣀⠆⢰⢒⡖⣰⡙⢦⠃⢸⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣻⢿⣻⣟⡿⣭⢯⣽⣻⣻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⡟⠠⠙⠞⠤⡈⠀

╰┈➤ ╰ ѕнн! яιяι тαℓкιηﻭ ησω! 🎥 “ ι'∂:: test for tags! “ ™ уσυ мαу яєα¢т!╭ ⭑

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hi uh im 11 (turning 12 in july) n i wanna b groomed (ᵕ—ᴗ—) pls be about 17-23!! also i’d love if you talked abt ur interests and stuff! ( ≧ᗜ≦) pls no dick pics cause i havent seen a dick in my life and its so scary (｡Ó﹏Ò｡) i have severe social anxiety so pls speak first and i will probly warm up! im not the best at communtating (typo) but thats ok ( ꈍ◡ꈍ) my discord is @virtualmew . please give me attention im so lonely aaa (* ´ ﹃｀*)

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⡇⡉⠉⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠠⠀⠀⠀ ⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠆⠀⠀⠀⢄⠁⠠⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠄⠑⡠⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠄⠀⢠ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠄⢂⠐⡠⠑⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢢⡀⢀⠆⢀⠀⣀⠀⢄⠐⠠⢘ ⡀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠁⠠⢀⡊⠴⠱⣠⢓⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢅⠌⢲⣰⣤⠼⢄⠐⣢⠨⠄⢸ ⣷⡶⣶⠶⠶⢦⠦⠶⣤⢦⣤⣤⣤⣴⣤⣦⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠃⠼⡰⡍⢦⣋⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢢⠐⣆⢥⡢⠐⡨⠐⢄⠩⠠⢸ ⡣⢟⢌⡣⠑⠂⠑⠀⡄⠘⠤⡙⢼⣩⢏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠖⠒⠹⢷⣆⡄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⢶⣵⠟⡷⠾⣄⠸⣉⢷⣚⡦⢡⣂⣴⣾⣴⣦⣆⣤⡢⡡⠜⠄⠠⠤⠁⢀⢸ ⡃⠀⠐⠀⠥⠁⠐⡠⠐⡑⢢⢝⢦⡧⣟⣿⣿⢿⢫⡙⢧⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⡿⣷⣮⠿⡄⠀⠀⠠⣙⡾⡏⣥⣶⣾⣿⣾⣷⣹⣞⡷⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣯⣶⣼ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠘⠨⢔⠀⢁⠠⠡⢎⢳⡞⣿⣿⢯⢋⠆⠱⠘⠌⠀⠀⠼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠁⠀⠀⢰⠭⢫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣗⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⡽⣏⣷⣫⢟⡽⢿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠈⠐⠓⠊⠒⠛⠚⠛⢎⣆⡨⠑⣈⠎⣀⠈⠰⠀⠩⠉⠋⠉⠁⠀⠄⣠⣬⣧⡓⠍⡛⡻⢟⣛⣭⡞⢾⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢽⣫⣗⡿⣜⢯⢻⡜⢇⣫⡶⠞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡔⢁⠘⠻⣿⣷⣿⣜⡔⣣⢄⣄⣠⣠⣀⠈⠀⠀⢈⢠⢢⣑⣎⣔⣡⢎⡴⢦⣻⣽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⢛⠷⣎⠺⣟⠟⣍⢫⣫⠔⢔⢢ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡅⠆⠛⠛⠻⠿⡝⢿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⢟⠿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣛⣭⠁⠂⢂⣏⣺⣷⡰⢟⣷⢮⡣⣓⣗⣎⣲⣃⠔ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡄⢁⠤⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠂⣉⢛⡛⠿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣾⣯⣿⣿⠿⠛⠟⠻⠟⡋⣁⠃⣋⣩⣉⣤⣶⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⢘⣎⡣⣯⡖⣌⣦⣷⣳⢼⣲ ⡧⠶⠾⡿⡻⠿⠋⠠⠲⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠔⢁⡂⠀⠀⠠⠑⣀⢄⣶⣿⣷⣶⠾⠛⠓⡀⠄⣄⠠⠔⣈⡊⣱⢒⡳⠾⣰⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠒⣻⢵⣮⡵⣳⣲⣿⣷⣋⣿ ⡗⠋⢰⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢏⠋⢀⡔⣁⡇⠜⣡⣿⠟⡉⢀⢀⡠⠂⠅⣉⡔⢢⢍⡶⢫⡵⣣⣞⣸⣗⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠉⢞⢬⣎⡷⣖⣬⣻⣷⣻⣯⢾ ⡇⠀⣡⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠖⡺⡿⢿⣿⠶⣁⠎⡈⣘⠢⢶⡿⠋⠠⣀⣢⠐⣈⢬⣹⢶⣚⡵⡶⣞⣯⣟⡷⡧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⢯⡟⣝⣷⣶⡟⢿⣟⣯⡳⣷⡿⣻⣟⢾ ⡇⣴⠡⡄⡠⡠⠀⢢⠞⣏⡾⣖⠩⢷⣿⣿⣷⣯⣔⡠⣾⣿⠇⠐⢂⣰⡼⣬⣭⣪⣿⣷⣧⣵⣶⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣯⣷⣿⣧⢿⡛⡽⣿⣗⣾⣯⣿⣾⣿⣟⣿⣽⣾⣿ ⡱⣟⣳⣸⣱⣮⡷⢃⠾⣯⡰⣹⡌⡲⣭⣷⣿⣿⡏⠉⠙⢁⣢⣶⣿⣿⣛⠫⠝⣽⠩⣍⣻⣭⢻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣽⣾⣿⣿⡿⡟⠵⣓⢮⣷⢏⠻⢯⡿⢿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠰⣈⠒⠽⢥⡑⡮⣿⡇⡝⣿⣿⣿⣤⣶⣿⣿⡿⣿⡿⣯⣽⡻⡾⣽⣼⣯⣶⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⡝⣶⣻⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣶⣭⠷⣭⣿⢏⠮⠵⣮⣻⡿⣔⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣻⣿⣿⠟⠿⣅⠒⡱⢊⣖⡈⢿⡗⣿⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢻⡵⣭⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⡋⣼⣿⣿⠍⣾⣿⢟⡼⢾⣿⡿⠟⣌⢺⡯⣽⣿⣿⣯⣿ ⣻⡿⠃⢄⢑⣤⢫⠽⢳⣬⣻⣿⣷⢻⣿⡅⡹⣿⣿⣿⣧⠳⢬⠗⣮⣿⢯⣿⢧⣿⡟⣻⣿⣿⣿⣯⣷⣿⢿⣽⣿⣿⠟⣀⣽⣿⣿⢏⣿⣿⡟⣌⡽⠟⠕⢌⣲⣯⡷⣿⣻⢿⣿⣿⣻ ⣻⣷⣥⣊⡘⠰⡹⢔⢽⣾⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⠃⣶⣿⣿⣿⠃⡑⢊⢜⣻⡿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣸⣿⡏⢶⣷⣻⣯⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⣲⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠿⢙⠐⠉⠐⢮⠢⢾⣷⣏⠣⣛⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣆⡩⢮⣽⣿⣿⡟⣿⡿⠑⣾⣿⣿⠏⡐⡈⡅⣺⣿⣽⣿⣛⡏⡰⣹⣿⣑⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⣶⣿⣿⠻⣯⣯⣅⢂⢾⣧⢈⠹⣞⡷⣬⣫⠶⢷⢧⢿⣟⣿⣿⣿ ⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣌⠻⣎⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⡧⠳⣿⣿⠟⠌⡐⢑⣼⣿⢧⣿⠷⣘⠦⣑⣿⣿⠱⣟⡿⣿⣿⡟⡋⣄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣪⣤⢿⢳⣿⣴⡿⣏⠳⡻⠷⣾⠳⡊⣕⢬⢻⡻⣿ ⣹⣿⣓⡿⢋⠐⠀⣧⣜⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⢇⢻⢿⡟⡈⠴⢁⣾⣿⡑⣾⣻⢉⢎⡔⢲⣿⡯⠲⣿⣿⣿⡟⣋⣴⣾⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡐⡰⢒⣽⣮⣷⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣽ ⣹⣿⡿⡁⢈⣿⢲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣆⣦⣡⢞⣍⡦⣾⣿⢧⣹⣾⡏⣘⣢⡝⣽⣻⢇⣫⣿⣿⣿⣓⣤⣿⣿⣯⣑⣾⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣟⣾⡇⣤⢳⣼⣻⣿⡿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣻⣿⡗⠘⢮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣗⠪⣕⣪⢽⣾⣿⣿⣿⢮⣾⣿⠳⣭⢲⣜⣿⣿⠪⣝⣿⣿⡿⡡⢷⣿⣿⡓⣬⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⡹⢌⣳⣾⣿⣾⡟⣓⠕⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣻⣿⢳⣑⣘⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⣫⣞⢧⣛⢬⣻⣿⡷⢮⣿⣿⢵⣮⠿⣯⣿⡗⢶⣿⣿⡟⢦⣝⣿⣿⣯⣳⢾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡲⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡮⠦⡐⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣻⣿⣶⣙⣮⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⣫⢾⢭⡣⢏⣿⣿⡿⣻⣿⣝⠾⣭⡿⣽⣿⣱⣿⣿⡿⢭⢧⣿⣿⣟⡥⡰⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠵⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡱⢯⣻⡯⣽⢎⣿⡟⣹⣿⣿⣏⣿⢮⡿⣿⡧⣟⣿⣛⠼⣭⣾⣿⣿⡱⢆⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢟⡭⣾⣷⣻⣿⣟⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠷⣮⣿⣿⡿⢾⣹⡿⣿⢿⣧⣯⡷⣭⣿⣿⣿⣞⣯⣿⣻⣿⡽⢬⣷⣯⣾⣿⣿⣿⢧⡝⣮⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡽⣽⣿⣿⣷⣿⣾⣿⣽⣻⣾ ⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⣳⣿⣿⣿⡛⣏⡳⣝⡻⣟⣷⣞⢯⡛⣽⣿⣿⢫⣗⣯⣿⣽⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⡹⢦⡔⢮⡝⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣻⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿

« . ᵕ̈ . ⌇ .ˎ『🧃』¹²³ ℓιℓ ѕу∂ηєу ∂σℓℓнσυѕє 🎠︴ ѕнє ωσυℓ∂ » ` туρє нєяє ` « ┆👑┆ ⊂🦔⊃ ˓→ тнαтѕ мιηє !

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⠀⠀⢸⣧⢂⠱⢨⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠁⠀⢻⣄⠂⢍⣸⣡⣾⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡟⡦⢑⣾⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠞⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⡞⣎⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⢱⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⡱⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡞⢥⠃⡌⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠱⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣞ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⡼⠁⠐⢀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣄⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣜ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣫⠞⡀⢡⠂⠀⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⢰⡟⣼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⡷⢋⡐⢈⠄⢂⠁⠄⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⣸⣽⡳ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠟⡡⢂⠔⢂⠈⠄⠂⠌⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢱⡀⣿⡞⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢏⠦⡑⢌⡐⠢⡈⠤⠁⠌⡐⢀⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣯⢿⡼ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡿⣈⠖⡈⠆⡌⠱⡐⢢⢁⠂⡐⠀⠆⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⢧⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⣸⡓⠴⡈⠴⠡⢌⠱⡈⠆⡌⡐⠠⠁⠂⠌⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣟⡾ ⠀⠀⢀⡟⡬⢱⠘⡄⢃⠎⡰⢁⠎⡐⠀⠑⣆⠁⢂⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣟⣳ ⠀⠀⢸⢏⡔⡃⢎⠰⡁⠎⡐⠂⠄⠠⠀⠀⠈⢶⡀⠂⢹⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⢀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢺⡵ ⠀⠀⣾⢡⠚⣌⠢⡑⠄⡃⠄⠁⡘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠂⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠐⢠⢈⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣻ ⠀⠀⣟⡌⢳⠠⣃⠌⠒⡀⠂⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⠉⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡈⣀⡾⢀⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⡷ ⠀⠀⡯⡜⣡⠒⡡⠘⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢆⡴⠏⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⡿ ⠀⠈⡷⣑⠢⡱⠡⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠟⡁⠂⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿ ⠀⠀⡷⢡⢓⡰⢁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⠣⡘⠠⢡⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣷ ⠀⠀⢽⡡⢆⡱⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⣄⣹⣯⣀⣀⣤⣿⠡⠆⡁⢂⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡷ ⠀⠀⣾⢰⢃⠦⡉⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⡟⠋⠹⠟⢻⡿⣡⠃⠜⠀⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣻⡽ ⠀⠀⢽⡎⡜⢢⠑⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡦⠀⠀⣾⡱⡂⠥⠈⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡽ ⠀⠀⢸⡧⡙⢆⠣⡐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠔⢸⢧⡓⣁⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣷⢻ ⠀⠀⠸⣗⠭⣊⠕⡨⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⠀⣿⢎⡱⠠⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣯⣟ ⠀⠀⠀⣿⡜⢢⢍⠰⡁⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡁⣯⢛⠴⡁⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⣿⣳⢾ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣎⠇⣎⠒⡄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡇⣏⢎⡒⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣽⣻ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣯⢚⠤⡃⠔⠡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢾⡃⣏⠖⡨⠄⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏⣿⢾⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣍⠖⣩⠘⡄⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣼⣟⡯⠜⡰⠠⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢻⣟⣾ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣯⢚⠤⡃⠤⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢹⣿⡧⢋⠤⠁⡌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡏⠐⠸⣿⣽ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢻⡍⡖⢱⡈⠂⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢀⢻⣿⡧⢩⢀⠃⠄⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⠁⢀⠀⢿⣿ ⠀⠀⢈⣄⣠⠸⣏⡼⠡⡌⡑⢈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⣇⠃⠆⡘⠠⢁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣇⣰⣲⠤⠘⣿ ⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⡀⢿⡜⡱⢂⡑⠂⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢌⢺⣿⡧⢉⠰⢀⠃⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡿⠀⠀⢀⡀⠄⢹

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°∙👩🏻‍🍳₊°🍪°ෆ ! ' " Eʋҽʅყɳ'ʂ CɾυɱႦʅ ʂƚσɾҽ! ' • ` @ ˢʰᵉ'ᵈ : ' « » 🍪 ! Tԋҽ CɾυɱႦʅ ʂƚσɾҽ ιʂ ƈʅσʂιɳɠ Ⴆყҽҽ! ┋🚫 ! ` «(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⢰⣶⢾⣶⢺⣷⢼⣷⢾⣦⣿⢶⣶⣶⡶⢒⣴⢶⣶⠶⣰⡴⠖⣴⠶⣢⣖⢴⡶⣷⣶⡶⣶⢶⣶⡶⣶⣴⡶⢦⡖⣢⢖⢴⣶⣦⡖⠀⠀⢠⣄⣤⡶⣢⢶⡖⢶⣦⢠⢴⠂⢠⡖⠂⣀⢀⡀⠳⣤⠀⠀⠐⡄⢸⣿ ⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⠀⠆⠀⠀⠂⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣫⣿⢿⣿⣻⣿⡿⣱⡿⠹⣷⣿⡿⣡⡿⢳⢟⣮⣺⠋⢁⣼⣫⢺⣿⡻⣿⢫⣾⣿⠋⣽⣋⢾⣷⡿⣝⣻⣏⣼⡵⢫⢛⣿⠟⠀⣠⣞⢿⣿⠟⣵⡿⠋⡽⣻⣿⡷⠁⣰⠋⣀⢠⡏⣿⣿⣸⣿⣲⣤⠀⡇⢸⣿ ⠀⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⢀⡀⠈⠀⠀⢀⠀⠃⠀⠀⡘⠀⡇⠐⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⢀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⢘⢸⡫⣣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⢟⣞⣿⢿⣿⢕⡿⣴⣫⡾⡟⠁⣔⡽⢋⣼⣿⣟⡟⣡⢪⠗⣩⣾⣿⣻⣿⣟⣹⡟⢹⣿⣟⡰⢏⡿⠁⢠⠞⡱⣫⡿⢃⣶⠏⢠⠞⡰⢃⢾⣷⡺⡡⣞⡥⣾⣷⠛⣯⣧⣿⣿⣿⠀⡇⢸⣿ ⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡜⡜⢱⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣷⣾⢣⡞⣾⠋⣿⡟⠁⣾⡟⢡⣾⠊⣿⠋⡞⣱⠋⣰⣿⣿⣽⣿⡝⣿⣧⣭⣿⣾⡏⣷⣯⡖⢱⠃⣾⣵⡟⢰⡟⠁⢠⡏⣾⢰⠋⠘⣿⣯⣾⠋⣼⡟⣾⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⢸⣿ ⠀⡗⣒⣒⣒⣒⡶⠒⢒⣒⣒⣒⣖⣒⣖⣒⣲⣶⣒⣒⣒⡒⣒⠒⣒⣒⢲⡒⣒⣒⣒⠒⠒⣒⣒⣒⣒⣒⣒⣶⢒⣒⣖⣺⠏⣰⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⡽⢡⣞⡞⣡⣿⠏⢀⡾⠋⣠⢯⣿⣫⣩⣜⡽⠋⡾⡷⣿⣿⣿⠟⡯⢷⣿⢫⣼⠯⣵⡿⠋⡼⢁⠾⢿⣏⣰⠟⠁⢠⣯⡟⣯⣿⣾⣾⣿⣿⣣⣾⢽⢇⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⢸⣿ ⠆⡇⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠐⣿⣏⣝⢽⣻⢏⡼⠃⣰⣿⡟⣹⡟⢁⡼⣻⣫⢗⣽⢾⡿⠋⣡⠞⡽⢧⣿⣷⢏⡾⣡⣿⣍⡿⢁⣼⢯⣿⣋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣾⣵⣯⠏⣴⠟⠁⣰⠟⢠⠾⣷⣞⣁⣵⢫⡞⣷⣟⣿⣿⠟⢿⡺⣍⣿⡿⢃⣿⣶⣿⠟⡰⠋⣰⢾⡶⢿⣿⣿⠀⢠⣿⡟⣸⣿⣿⢎⡼⣿⣿⢯⢺⢺⢙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⡗⢸⣿ ⠁⡇⣿⡟⢀⣷⡐⡇⠰⣿⣷⢺⠻⣩⡻⠁⣼⡫⢋⣼⠋⢀⡾⢺⡷⣱⠟⡡⠋⢀⡴⠁⡾⣁⡼⣿⣯⣟⣽⢏⣾⡿⣡⣾⣿⣿⣗⣿⣿⣿⢟⡠⣹⡟⣿⣾⣿⣿⡮⣄⣽⣧⣴⣋⣼⣻⣯⠟⡵⢋⣶⡯⣿⣿⣊⣯⠟⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠫⠞⢁⣾⣿⣾⡷⠟⣟⠹⣾⡏⢸⡴⣻⡿⣱⢿⡾⣝⣿⣿⣧⣸⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡇⢸⣿ ⠀⡇⣿⡇⢸⡇⢳⡇⢻⣿⡿⡿⣵⣥⣥⣼⣿⣥⣞⣁⣠⠟⢠⣋⣸⣡⣞⢁⣀⡽⣶⣶⡿⠾⡟⡽⢿⣾⣯⣿⠏⣹⣿⢿⢯⣿⡿⣿⣿⣣⡿⢫⠞⠞⠚⣪⣫⠋⢙⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣟⡁⠚⠁⡺⢃⣶⠟⡽⣷⢫⣼⣿⢿⣿⣿⣟⠟⡼⢻⣤⣿⣿⣿⠏⢡⣮⣟⡼⢷⣿⣜⣼⢟⡮⣷⢿⣾⠏⢿⣳⣼⣿⢻⣿⡏⠈⣿⣽⣿⣿⠁⣇⢸⣿ ⠁⡇⣿⠇⠈⠁⠀⠁⢺⣿⣿⠟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⣀⡘⠊⠀⠈⢻⣿⣇⣼⣻⢃⠾⣿⣻⣿⣿⡿⠓⠓⠁⠴⣗⣉⣤⣤⣶⣿⣷⣶⣾⣿⣷⣾⣿⣯⣴⣾⣥⣞⣀⣾⡽⣃⣿⡿⢋⣿⣿⣿⡟⣋⢴⣿⣿⣿⣿⡶⢚⠟⡩⣿⣷⣸⡞⡷⡷⢋⠞⣵⣽⢃⡔⠸⣟⣼⢻⠚⡛⡇⡰⢻⡟⣿⣿⡄⡧⢸⣿ ⠀⡇⡿⠀⣠⡤⡀⠈⣿⣿⢋⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⣿⠿⣿⡯⡿⢷⡚⣙⡛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡆⠀⠈⠻⣿⣦⠀⡮⣾⣷⣽⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⢠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⣴⡟⢹⣿⣿⠿⣾⣿⡏⢀⣻⣿⣿⣿⡃⠈⠁⠈⠀⢀⣽⣧⣿⢹⠕⢡⣾⡿⣡⣾⢋⢔⣽⢿⣾⠀⡃⡧⢣⣿⡇⡏⣿⡇⢇⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⡇⡘⣏⣉⣉⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢀⢀⣼⣧⠁⠀⠀⠉⠒⠈⠀⠀⠳⠽⣟⣿⣿⣦⠀⠈⢿⣧⠩⢋⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡗⢺⣿⡎⠙⠁⠁⠀⠉⢑⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⢇⢼⡟⢁⣿⣿⡟⡴⡻⢿⣿⡿⣻⠟⠉⠻⣅⣀⠀⠀⠠⠟⡟⢿⣿⢎⣶⣿⣿⣷⡾⣡⣷⡿⡫⣾⢸⡠⣿⣷⣟⣿⣷⣧⣿⡇⡣⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⡇⠁⠉⠉⢉⣾⡿⣿⣿⣟⡿⠋⠀⠈⣽⠿⣿⣷⣾⣾⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡹⠻⣿⣤⡀⠘⢯⣀⢾⣿⡿⠉⢀⡤⠾⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠌⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⡞⠼⢁⣮⣿⠿⠵⠗⢳⣾⣿⡑⣋⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠐⣇⣾⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⡯⣣⣿⣿⢵⠇⢻⢺⡧⣿⣿⠟⠛⣿⣿⡟⣇⡧⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⣧⠀⠀⢰⣟⣿⣿⡿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠿⠏⠻⢿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⢰⣏⣠⡍⣿⣧⠀⠘⢿⢆⣾⡷⣰⣿⣍⡉⠁⢀⣼⣿⣿⡿⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣾⣿⡿⠿⠟⠋⠉⠁⣰⡿⢷⡀⣼⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⠻⠷⡀⠀⠀⣹⣯⣀⠖⠉⣠⣿⣵⣿⣿⡿⣵⡽⣞⣿⣟⡥⢃⠀⣸⣾⣇⣿⡏⢠⣺⣯⣼⢱⡃⡗⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⣿⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⡹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⠇⠀⠀⠈⢷⣿⠡⣩⣿⣿⣷⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠟⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠋⠀⢀⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡟⢩⣿⣿⡅⣠⣿⢟⡿⠁⢀⣴⣿⣷⣿⣿⣟⣶⢾⣯⣿⠻⣟⡵⢣⡾⠃⢸⡿⣿⣿⣽⡿⣿⣟⣼⠁⡗⢸⣿ ⡀⡇⠻⡄⢸⣧⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠋⠀⠀⣀⣼⠟⣏⣻⠸⢋⣿⡞⣿⣣⡞⣀⣼⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⡻⣱⣿⣿⣽⡮⣺⣷⢏⡄⠀⠘⣧⣿⠋⢳⡧⢻⡏⣿⠀⣏⢸⣿ ⡀⡇⠀⠈⢻⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⢅⣾⢟⡠⠒⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠋⢀⡞⢹⣥⣿⣿⣯⠈⢣⣵⣿⡿⢻⣟⣿⣿⡿⣵⢟⢼⣿⣿⣝⡿⣿⣿⣵⠋⠀⣠⣶⠻⣏⡇⢸⣿⢿⣿⣏⠀⣯⢸⣿ ⡃⡇⠀⠀⢹⣽⣿⡤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⢿⣻⢝⣩⣻⣫⠿⣋⡥⣤⣴⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢾⡋⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⢏⣠⣴⣶⣄⡀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⢀⡞⢡⣿⢿⣿⢯⡧⣶⣿⣿⣿⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⡫⣾⣿⢯⢪⢾⣾⣯⡿⠁⣠⣾⡿⢁⢀⣿⣟⡾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣆⢳⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⢠⡆⠀⣿⣯⣿⣿⣧⣤⡀⠀⠀⡴⠻⡵⠋⠀⠉⠀⠽⠁⠉⠸⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣮⡸⣧⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠿⠖⠛⠛⠻⠯⠭⠖⣷⠻⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣶⣿⣽⣿⡿⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣕⣿⡿⣳⢷⣿⣿⡷⡿⢁⣴⣿⢟⡴⢫⠟⣠⣿⣿⣿⣼⣿⢿⣦⢫⢸⣿ ⡇⡇⢘⡇⠀⠸⡇⢿⣿⣿⣧⣟⡜⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠿⠿⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣟⡿⢃⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣼⣧⣿⣿⣧⢿⣿⣿⢿⢀⣿⣿⣟⡟⣣⠟⣠⣟⡼⠛⣿⣟⢿⣼⣟⣣⢸⣿ ⣇⡇⣾⠧⠀⠀⠈⢷⠻⣷⣿⣿⢷⣞⢳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⢴⡶⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⡿⢏⣼⠿⣙⣭⣷⡿⢿⣷⣾⢿⣿⣿⡟⣿⣿⢫⣶⣿⠎⢿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣼⣿⣿⣧⢟⣸⠋⣰⣯⡞⢁⣼⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠼⢸⣿ ⡅⣏⢿⣷⣤⣄⣀⣀⣻⠝⠹⣿⣮⣭⣿⠽⠳⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⢶⣒⣦⠀⣀⣠⣶⣖⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣶⣿⣿⣟⣿⢿⡗⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣶⣾⣿⢷⣯⣵⣻⣿⣿⢫⣳⢟⣵⢿⣿⣟⣿⣿⠟⣼⣿⣽⣿⡿⢁⣰⣿⣟⡟⣠⢯⣾⡟⣵⢫⣾⢃⣼⢿⢝⣠⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⡽⢸⣿ ⠐⡂⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠂⠀⠂⠐⠂⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠀⠀⠂⠀⠒⠐⠒⠒⡒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠲⠒⠖⠒⠒⠖⢒⡒⠢⡑⢻⣿

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