19 Emojis & Text

𝟏𝟗

🅗🅐🅟🅟🅨 🅑🅘🅡🅣🅗🅓🅐🅨 🅗🅐🅘🅠🅐

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 19 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 ) Plankton's body continues to shake, his breaths quick and shallow. Karen takes over, her hands gentle as she guides him out of the chair, her eyes filled with a mix of anger and sadness. "I'm sorry, ho-" But Plankton also fears Karen now because of her restraining him. He jolts at her approach. "Plank..." Karen's voice trails off, her expression one of pained realization. "I'm sor-" But Plankton's fear of Karen has grown. She's the one who held him down too, who forced him to endure the unbearable. His antennae flatten against his head, his body shaking as he tries to move away from her. "Don't," he whispers, his voice a rasp of fear. "Don't touch me." Karen's eyes fill with sorrow, her hand hovering uncertainly in the space between them. "Plankton, sweetie, it's okay," she says, her voice trembling. "It's just a misunderstanding." But Plankton's terror is too strong, his memories too fresh. He flinches at the sound of her voice, his antennae quivering. "Karen," he whispers, his voice a shaky plea. "Please... don't." His eye is wide with fear, his body stiff with tension. Karen's heart breaks, the pain in his gaze a stark contrast to the warmth she'd felt in his smile just hours before. "It's me," she says, her voice thick with regret. "It's Karen." Yet Plankton's body jerks away from her as if she's a danger to him, his antennae flattened in a protective stance. Karen's eyes fill with sorrow as she takes a step back, her hand dropping to her side. "I'm sorry," she whispers. "I di-" But Plankton's fear is a living entity now, a creature that has latched onto him and won't let go. He stumbles backward, his legs shaking as he tries to put distance between them. "No," he whispers, his voice trembling. "You're not my Karen. You're... you're not safe!" Karen's eyes fill with sorrow, her heart aching. She'd never wanted to be a source of fear for Plankton. "Sweetie, I'm right here," she says, her voice a gentle caress. "I'm not going to hurt you." But her words bounce off the invisible barrier his fear has built. Chip watches from the doorway, his own fear mirroring his dad's. He wants to rush in, to make everything right, but he knows that would only make it worse. So he stands, frozen, his fists clenched at his side. The room is a tableau of despair, Plankton's sobs echoing off the cold, sterile walls. Karen's eyes are wet with unshed tears, her hand still reaching out, even though Plankton's retreating from it. "Do yo--" Her voice catches as she sees his fear, a raw emotion that she's never seen directed at her before. "Plankton, baby," she whispers, "it's me. I'm never going to hurt you." But Plankton's eye is wild, his antennae a frantic blur. He stumbles backward, his body colliding with the wall behind him. "No," he cries out, his voice raw with panic. "You're not! You just... You just hurt me!" Karen's hand falls to her side, defeated. The reality of the situation crashes down on her, a cold, hard weight. She's hurt the one person she'd sworn to protect, the one who needs her understanding the most. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I didn't mean to..." But Plankton's fear has consumed him, turning him into a creature of pure instinct. He presses his back against the wall, his antennae flat against his head, his body shaking with sobs. "Don't," he whispers, his voice a desperate plea. "Please don't ever do that again." Karen's heart breaks into a thousand pieces, each one sharp and jagged. She can't bear the thought that she's the reason for his fear. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she says, her voice trembling. "I didn't understand. I'll never do anything to scare yo-" But Plankton's sobs only grow louder, his antennae trembling with every intake of breath. "You said it would be okay, even when it wasn't," he whispers, his voice a broken whisper. Karen's eyes fill with regret, her heart heavy with the weight of his pain. "Sorry," she says, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I-I-I-I…" The room feels like it's shrinking, the air thick with the scent of fear and antiseptic. Karen tries to find the right words, anything to break through the panic that has swallowed her husband. "I didn't know," she whispers, her eyes searching his for understanding. "But now I do, and I'll never let anyone do that to you again." Jill clears her throat. "I'll go get the main dentist." She walks out of the room. The silence is deafening, the echo of Plankton's sobs the only sound. Karen moves slowly toward him, her steps soft and deliberate. "Shh, it's okay," she whispers, her hand outstretched. "I'm here." Plankton's antennae twitch, but he doesn't push her away. Instead, he leans into her, his body seeking the comfort of her touch.

＃ＫｎｅｅＳｕｒｇｅｒｙ pt. 19 The doctor nods, his eyes scrutinizing the x-ray. "Good," he says, his voice clipped. "It's healing nicely." Plankton lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders slumping slightly. The doctor continues, his voice gentle. "But we'll need to extract the excess glue." Plankton's eye widens. "What!" The doctor holds up a hand. "It's common, nothing to worry about. All do is drain the excess glue. It'll help reduce the pressure and discomfort." Plankton's antennae wave in distress. "How?" he asks, his voice high-pitched. Hanna and Karen exchange worried glances. The doctor explains, his tone reassuring. "It's a simple procedure," he says, his claws gesturing to the medical tools laid out before them. "We'll just remove your cast and then we go in with a small instrument to drain the excess glue." Plankton's breathing speeds up, his antennae twitching rapidly. "But what if it hurts?" he asks, his voice high-pitched. The doctor nods understandingly. "We'll put you under general anesthesia like last time, Mr. Plankton. You won't feel a thing." Karen nods, her face a mask of calm. "Okay," Plankton whispers, his eyes darting between Karen and the doctor, his voice shaking. They wheel him into the operating room, Hanna waiting out in a chair as Karen follows Plankton in. The room was cold, the smell of disinfectant sharp in his tiny nose. His leg was propped up, the cast looking like a monolith in the stark, white room. The doctor's face loomed over him, a mask obscuring his expression. "You're going to feel sleepy now, Mr. Plankton," he said, his voice distant. "Count backwards from twenty." Plankton managed a nod, his voice slurring. "T-twenty," he slurred. "Nineteen." His eyelid began to droop, his words slurring more with each number. "Eigh-" his voice trailed off as the world grew fuzzy. His head lolled to the side, his antennae coming to rest on the pillow. And with that, Plankton was asleep, his breaths evening out. The doctor nodded to the nurse, who smiled gently. "He's under," she confirmed, monitoring his vitals. Karen squeezed his hand. "You'll be okay, Plankton," she whispered. Hanna stood at the edge of the room, her eyes filled with concern as she watched the medical staff prepare for the procedure. The surgery was swift, the doctor's claws sure as they worked to remove the cast and extract the excess glue with syringes. Plankton slept through it all, his body completely relaxed as Karen held his hand. Hanna waited outside as they finished. When it was done, the doctor replaced the cast with a bandage wrapped around the leg. "He'll be fine," the doctor told Karen, his voice matter-of-fact. "The anesthesia should wear off soon. We'll keep an eye on him as he wakes up." They wheeled Plankton into recovery, his body still and his chest rising and falling with even breaths. Karen stayed by his side, her hand in his. Hanna follows them. His recovery room was quiet. Plankton was out like a light, his antennae still and his tiny body completely relaxed against the pillows. Karen sat next to him, her hand still holding his. Hanna hovered near the door, watching. Karen leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "You know, Plankton, you've got more heart than you let on," she said, her eyes filled with admiration. "You're so strong, going through this." Hanna smiled at the tender moment. The doctor cleared his throat, his demeanor shifting from serious to slightly amused. "Now, before he wakes up, I should mention that the sedative can have some funny effects on his brain. It's perfectly normal," he assured them, his eyes twinkling behind his mask. "He might say or do things that seem out of character." Karen nodded, her grip on Plankton's hand not wavering. "What kind of things?" Hanna asked, her curiosity piqued. "Well, it's difficult to predict," the doctor said, his tone lightening. "Some patients become extremely chatty, others may be a little loopy. He might say things he doesn't normally say or do things that are out of his character." Karen smiled slightly, thinking of Plankton's usual demeanor. "But don't worry," the doctor assured them. "It's all part of the process. He'll be back to his usual self shortly." A line of drool had formed at the corner of his mouth. Karen couldn't help but smile at the sight. "Look at him," Hanna whispered. "He looks so innocent when he's out cold." Karen reached over with a tissue and carefully wiped his mouth. "He's going to hate that when he wakes up," she mused. Hanna chuckled, her eyes still on him. "It's kind of cute, though," she said. Yet Plankton remained oblivious, his chest rising and falling evenly as they waited for the sedative to wear off. Minutes ticked by, their conversation keeping the silence at bay. The doctor's words hung in the air like a teaser to an unpredictable joke. What would Plankton say or do when he woke up?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣦⣤⣴⣤⣤⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣛⣛⣻⣿⣦⣀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣏⣹⠀ ⢠⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠭⠭⠽⠽⠸⠿⠭⠭⠭⠽⠿⠿⠛ ⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⢻⣿⣿⣿⡟⠏⠉⠉⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⠋⠑⠒⠒⠚⠙⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣿⣿⡿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

ᴀᴇsᴛʜᴇᴛɪᴄ 𐙚 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 𝄞 ☹ . 📍 ⊹ . . ✔🅰️-`♡´- *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 🇦100%♡ 𒉭 𒌐 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ 𓏌 🅰 ᡣ𐭩 ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆🎧ྀི𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓶𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂😫♥‿♥𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡☪𓆩♡𓆪ㅤ♡ྀི ₊🫧💗✨⊚⃝⸜(｡∵｡) ⋆｡°✩⊚⃝⸜(｡∵｡) ⋆｡°✩ℒℴ𝓋ℯ𝓇❦𝓐𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒔𝒉𝒂ᥫ᭡.ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـㅤ♡ྀི ₊🤎𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ᰔᩚ🌸🎀🦩💕🌷⋆·˚ ༘ *⚠️💣💥୧⍤⃝💐😷‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.🪯⬅⬅➡ᯓ★⏭⏮.𖥔 ݁ ˖༘⋆𐦍⊹₊ ⋆｡˚⋆⭒˚｡⋆˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗⋆｡𖦹°⭒˚｡⋆🩹♬⋆.˚⩇⩇:⩇⩇‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡၊၊||၊𝓙ᥫ᭡‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.🤝✎ᝰ.𖹭‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.🖐🖐️👉☝️🙋🕸༘⋆

⠀⠀⠀⠠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣴⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠿⣿⣷⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⣴⣿⡷⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⡀⣿⣱⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⢿⣧⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠛⢷⣿⣟⡿⠿⠿⡟⣓⣒⣛⡛⡛⢟⣛⡛⠟⠿⣻⢿⣿⣻⡿⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢠⣴⢻⡭⠖⡉⠥⣈⠀⣐⠂⡄⠔⢂⢦⡹⢬⡕⠊⠳⠈⢿⣳⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣼⣷⣋⠲⢮⣁⠀⣐⠆⡤⢊⣜⡀⡾⣀⠀⢠⢻⣌⣤⣥⣓⣌⢻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⣟⣽⢳⣯⣝⣦⡀⠓⡤⢆⠇⠂⠄⠤⡝⣂⠋⠖⢋⠀⣡⣶⣾⡿⡷⣽⡿⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢸⣿⡜⢯⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣤⣧⣶⣬⣝⣃⣓⣈⣥⣶⣿⣾⣿⣿⢣⠇⢻⡞⣯⣹⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢻⣼⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⡔⡯⢧⢟⣟⣱⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⡼⡼⢁⡌⢼⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⢇⡼⢃⡿⣼⣛⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠟⣡⣫⣢⢏⣼⡵⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣏⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢿⣿⡾⢕⣻⣽⣵⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠘⢷⣮⣿⡼⢭⡟⠳⠞⡖⢛⣶⣷⣯⡶⠟⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠛⠛⠿⠟⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣦⣶⣾⣿⣷⣶⣶⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣶⣿⣟⠯⠓⣉⣩⣭⣝⣻⣿⣶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⠗⢡⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⠏⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣿⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢿⣿⣀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣸⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⣨⣩⠙⠀⢹⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⣀⣀⣀⣀⢧⣿⠂⣀⠀⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣶⣿⣿⠗⡤⢤⣀⡉⠊⡱⢋⣉⣉⣷⠄⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⡝⣿⣿⠀⠈⠙⠿⠃⠀⡇⠽⠛⢻⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⠤⠾⣄⡹⣄⠀⢸⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣋⢹⣿⣿⣷⡾⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⣶⣿⠿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⢻⣿⣿⣇⠈⠡⢄⣀⠐⢉⣿⣿⣴⣿⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⣄⣠⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣠⠔⠒⠒⠉⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢿⣿⡿⠛⠋⠘⣿⣿⠿⢯⠛⠂⠤⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣠⠊⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⠁⠀⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀ ⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇⠀⠀⢣⠒⠲⠤⣀⡀⠀⡀⣀⠤⠒⠂⠸⡀⠀⢱⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣄ ⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢆⡀⠀⢣⡀⠀⠈⠀⠈⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠰⠧⠀⠚⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠛⠲⠻⠷⠒⠞⠂⠸⠣⠲⠖⠖⠀⠀⠻⠻⠿⠼⠟⠿⠧⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

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

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DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 2 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 ) Karen takes a deep breath and squeezes Plankton's hand, calling his name softly. "Plankton, sweetie, come back to me." Her voice is a lifeline, a warm presence that Plankton's mind might be able to cling to. She knows from experience that his seizures can eventually be helped by her voice and gentle touch. "I'm here, it's okay," she whispers, stroking his antennae with her thumb. Chip's cries fade as he heads to his room. He's scared, confused, and feels alone. He doesn't know why his dad is acting so weird, but he trusts his mom. Eventually, Plankton's eye starts to blink, a sign that he's coming back. Karen's with relief, and she squeezes his hand, continuing to speak in hushed tones. "You're ok, Plankton. You're home with me." She knows how disorienting these episodes can be for him, and she wants to make sure he's fully grounded before anything else. As Plankton's gaze slowly refocuses, Karen watches. He tries to sit up, yet his body feels heavy and sluggish. "What happened?" he asks, his voice a croak. Karen's relief is palpable as she helps him sit up, still holding his hand. "You just had one of your episodes, sweetie. It's okay." She's careful with her words, not wanting to alarm him. "What do you remember?" Plankton looks around the room. "Chip," he murmurs. "Chip yelled hi, and then everything's patchy. I felt his presence yet I kept going deeper into the retreat, but I vaguely recall Chip bombarding me. And now I guess you apparently came.." Karen nods, her grip on his hand tightening. "Yes, Chip saw you and was scared. He didn't know what was happening." Plankton's face pales at the thought of his son being afraid. "Is he alr- Chip; he must've seen me! He witnessed..." Karen nods solemnly. "Yes, he saw everything. He's in his room now, I told him to stay there." Plankton sighs heavily, his eye closing briefly. "I know you're gonna say to tell him everything, how he's mature enough. Great, just great." Karen nods, her voice gentle. "We can't keep this from him forever, Plankton. He's seen you like this now. It's time to explain what's happening." Plankton sighs heavily, his shoulders slumping. He knows she's right, but the thought of Chip knowing his secret makes him feel exposed and vulnerable. But Karen's voice is firm. "We can't keep hiding this from him. He's old enough now. We have to tell him. I'll bring him in, okay?" Plankton nods weakly, his heart racing at the thought. He knows Karen is right; they can't keep this from him forever. Karen heads to Chip's room to find him curled up on the bed, clutching a pillow to his chest. His eyes are swollen from crying. "Hey, buddy," she says softly, sitting beside him. "Can you come with me?" Chip sniffs and nods, his eyes darting to the door. He's afraid, but he knows his mom will make it right. He follows her into the bedroom, where Plankton sits up, looking drained but alert. "Dad!" Chip cries out, running to Plankton's side. Plankton starts to scoot away. Karen intervenes quickly. "Chip, honey, let's give Daddy some space," she says, her voice calm but firm. Chip frowns, not understanding. "But he's okay?" Chip asks, his voice small and hopeful. "Yes, Chip," Karen says, sitting on the bed with Plankton. "Daddy just had a little... Plankton, why don't you tell him?" Plankton sighs, bracing himself for the conversation he's been avoiding. "Chip, what you saw was something you were never meant to see. You weren't supposed to see me like that. So I don't wanna hear a peep about it, ok?" Chip's eyes widen with confusion. "But what was that, Dad?" His voice is small, filled with fear. Plankton hesitates, trying to find the right words. "I JUST TOLD YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!" he snaps, his voice sharp. Chip flinches, surprised by his dad's harsh tone. Karen sighs, taking the lead. "Chip, honey, your dad's okay. It's like his brain goes on a tiny vacation without telling his body, and he can't move or talk during it." She tries to make it sound less scary. Chip's eyes grow wider, but his curiosity isn't satisfied. "But why? Why ca--" Plankton cuts him off, his tone sharp with agitation. "I don't have to explain myself to you." Chip's confusion turns to hurt. He doesn't know what he did wrong. He just wanted his dad to wake up. "Dad, you were just sitting ther-" But Plankton's harshness cuts him off again. "I said forget it, Chip! It's nothing you need to know!" Plankton's voice is filled with frustration and fear. Chip's eyes well up with new tears. "But I just wanted you to wake up," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Yo--" Plankton's sharpness slices through the air, his usual playfulness nowhere to be found. "I SAID, FORGET IT!" Karen's eyes widen at her husband's reaction. "Plankton, honey, maybe we should just tell him. He's seen it now; we can't keep hiding it," she suggests gently, trying to ease the tension in the room. Plankton looks at her with a mix of frustration and fear, his antennae twitching. "Fine," he grumbles, his voice softening. "But remember, this is my story, not yours." Chip, still sniffling, looks between his mom and dad. Karen gives Plankton a gentle yet firm look, and he sighs heavily. "Okay, Chip," he starts, "I've corpus callosum dysgenesis." Chip looks at him, puzzled. "What's th-" "It's a brain thing, okay?" Plankton cuts him off, his tone gruffer than usual. He can't bear the thought of his son knowing. Chip nods slowly, trying to comprehend. "But w---" "That's all you need to know," Plankton says, his voice clipped and final. But Chip's curiosity doesn't wane. "But, Dad, why can't you just wake up?" he asks, his eyes filled with concern and confusion. Plankton's antennae twitch in irritation. "CHIP, I TOLD YOU TO FORGET ABOUT IT!" His voice is sharp, cutting through the room like a knife. Chip recoils, his screen brimming with unshed tears. He doesn't understand why his dad is so upset. He just wanted to help, to make him snapshot out of whatever was wrong. Chip tries again. "Dad, Mom said you can't keep whatever from me anymo-" "ENOUGH, CHIP!" Plankton's shout echoes through the room. "It's not your business, it's mine! Now get lost!" The pain in Plankton's voice is palpable, and Chip can't understand why. Chip's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching. "But Dad, I just wanted to he-" "I SAID ENOUGH!" Plankton's voice booms through the room, his antennae quivering with frustration. Chip's voice trails off, and he takes a step back. He's never seen his dad so upset, and it scares him. "But Dad, I don't know what's wrong with you!" Chip's voice is small, his eyes filled with fresh tears. Plankton's outburst has only confused him more. Oblivious to Plankton's internal turmoil, Chip doesn't realize his dad's reaction is due to his autism. But the outburst only adds to Chip's confusion and fear. He looks at Karen with pleading eyes, desperately seeking comfort and answers.

👩🏼‍👩🏼‍👦🏼🍆🍑𓂸

19🎂

🐚🎂🥂 💗✨ℋ𝒜𝒫𝒫𝒴 ℬ𝐼ℛ𝒯ℋ𝒟𝒜𝒴 ✨💗🥂 🎂🐚

༉‧₊˚🕯️7jan🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̥‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙ ..........。☆。*。☆。 ..........★。＼｜／。★ ........Happy Birthday!!! ..........★。／｜＼。★ ..........。☆。*。☆ ☆:*´¨𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕥𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦¨`*:☆ ‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̥‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙̩͙*‧₊̊‧*˚̩͙ *

🎂⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Happy birthday to you My Queen 🎂🥳🎉🎊 👑

🎈🎉🎁🎂

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

𓅨

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 9 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 door opens quietly, and Chip peeks in, his eyes swollen with tears. Karen looks up, her eyes questioning. He stands there, his body quivering with emotion, his heart aching to join them. Karen nods, a silent permission. With tentative steps, Chip approaches the bed, his eyes on his father. Plankton's snores are deep and even, his body relaxed against Karen's. Chip's hand shakes slightly as he reaches out. His touch is feather-light, his fingertips brushing against Plankton's antennae. They quiver under his touch, but Plankton doesn't wake. Karen looks up at him, her eyes filled with love and understanding. She nods once, and Chip climbs onto the bed. He sits there, his body rigid with nerves, his heart racing. He wants to make it right, to show his father that he cares, that he's not just a kid playing doctor. Karen watches him, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and sadness. She knows this is hard for Chip, that he desperately wants to help. Chip's hand hovers over his father's antennae, his fingers trembling. He's seen his mom do this a hundred times, the gentle stroking that seems to calm Plankton like nothing else can. He takes a deep breath and touches them, lightly. Karen's smile reassures Chip. "It's okay," she whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "He's sleeping." Plankton's antennae twitch at Chip's touch, but his sleep remains undisturbed. Encouraged, Chip starts to mirror Karen's movements, his strokes becoming more confident. The tension in his body starts to melt away as he focuses on his dad's peaceful state. Karen watches her son's hands with a mix of pride and sadness. She knows he just wants to connect, to understand, but autism is complex. And she knows Chip is learning that. "Remember, Chip," she whispers, "he's sensitive to touch." Chip nods, his eyes never leaving his father. He's afraid of doing it wrong, but the sight of Plankton sleeping peacefully gives him courage. His strokes are soft, his movements careful. Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, but his snores remain steady. Chip's breaths ease, and he feels a warmth spread through him. This small moment of connection feels like a victory. Karen's hand squeezes his shoulder, and he glances up at her, his eyes shimmering with hope. "Keep going," she whispers, and he does, his touch becoming more rhythmic. Plankton's body shifts slightly, his antennae nuzzling into Chip's touch. It's a small thing, but it feels monumental to Chip. He looks at his mom, her face a mix of love and sorrow. She nods, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. This is what family is, supporting each other through the storms of life. The room is a cocoon of quiet, the only sound the comforting soft snores of Plankton. Chip's fingers dance over the antennae, his eyes never leaving his father's face. Karen watches them, her heart swelling with love. In this moment, Chip understands what Karen had tried to explain earlier. Plankton's autism isn't a problem to solve; it's part of who he is, a challenge that makes their bond even more precious. He strokes his dad's antennae with newfound respect and patience. Karen's eyes never leave them, her heart swelling with pride. "It's getting late," she says softly. "You should get some sleep too." Chip nods, his gaze still locked on his father. He doesn't want to leave him, but he knows he has to. With a final stroke of Plankton's antennae, he slides off the bed, his legs shaky. "You did good, sweetie," she whispers, her eyes glistening. He looks back at her, his face a question. "But I made him so mad," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. Karen takes his hand, squeezing it gently. "You meant well," she says, her tone firm but kind. "And you learned from it. This is part of loving someone with autism, Chip. Sometimes you'll make mistakes, but what's important is that you keep trying." With a nod, Chip wipes his nose with the back of his hand and heads for his room, his heart heavy but hopeful. Karen watches him go, her eyes following his retreating back. Then, she turns her attention back to Plankton, still sleeping in her arms. Gently, she shifts his body, adjusting the pillows under his head. His antennae twitch slightly at the movement, but he doesn't stir. She pulls the blanket up to his chin, smoothing it down over his shoulders. His skin is warm against her fingertips, a comforting sign that he's comfortable.

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 7 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 ) "Daddy, I'm sorry," Chip whimpers, his eyes wide with fear. He's never felt so lost, so small. Plankton's breaths come in quick, sharp bursts, his body a tangle of frustration and pain. Plankton's antennae thrash in the air, his eye wild and unpredictable. "You don't know what you're talking about!" he yells, his voice bouncing off the walls of the room. He turns away from his son, his body language screaming 'don't touch'. Chip's eyes are pools of pain, his hand hovering awkwardly. "But Daddy," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just t---" "Don't you dare!" Plankton's antennae whip around wildly, his eye flashing with a mixture of anger and fear. Chip yanked his hand away but doing so, he accidentally brushes against Plankton's arm in the process. The explosion of emotion is instant. Plankton recoils, his body jerking away as if burned. He sweeps his arm across the nightstand, sending books flying. Karen knew she needs to intervene. "Chip, go to your room," she says firmly, her voice cutting through the storm of emotions. Chip's eyes are wide with shock, his body trembling as he backs away from the bed, tears streaming down his face. "But Mom," he protests, his voice choked with emotion. "I didn't me—" "I know, Chip," Karen says, her tone brooking no argument. Plankton's antennae are a blur of movement, his breathing erratic. "Your dad needs space." Chip nods and makes his way to his room, his legs wobbly. As he closes the door, Karen sighs, her eyes sad as she turns back to Plankton. Karen knew to tread carefully. Plankton is panting, his antennae twitching rapidly. He's upset, more than she's seen in a long time. "Plankton," she says softly, approaching the bed. "Hey, I'm here." His antennae quiver, and she knows she's treading on thin ice when he kicks the blanket off his bed with a snarl. Karen's heart breaks seeing the pain in his eye. He sweeps his arm across the dresser, sending a cascade of items crashing to the floor. The room echoes with his rage, each crash a declaration of his frustration. Karen swallows the lump in her throat, knowing she has to be the calm in this storm. Plankton's breaths come in quick, sharp bursts, his antennae still quivering. He turns away from her, his back to the wall, his body tight with tension. Karen approaches slowly, her eyes on his, watching for any sign of his mood shifting. "Let it out," she whispers, her hands outstretched but not touching. "You're safe here." Plankton's body convulses with anger, and he throws another object across the room. It hits the wall with a thud, leaving a small crack. His antennae quiver with each ragged breath he takes. Karen knows they're on the edge. With trembling hands, she picks up his pillow from the floor, carefully moving closer. "You don't have to keep it in," she says softly, extending the pillow towards him. "You can hit this." Her voice is a soothing balm to the chaos. Plankton's antennae stop their frantic dance for a moment, his eye flickering with something akin to hope. He takes the pillow, his fists tightening around it. With a roar, he brings the pillow down onto the bed, his strength surprising even Karen. The sound is muffled, but the fury in the gesture is clear. He hits it again, and again, each blow a silent scream of pain and anger. Karen watches, her heart breaking with each hit, her eyes never leaving his. She knows this is his fear and frustration manifesting in the only way his overwhelmed mind knows how. "Let it out, Plankton," she whispers, moving closer, her voice steady. "You're safe here." Plankton's body shakes as he slams the pillow into the mattress, his antennae quivering with each impact. Karen remains still. She knows this storm of emotion isn't directed at her, but at the invisible barriers that have caged him in for so long. He throws the pillow again, his face contorted with rage. The cotton explodes into a cloud of feathers, but it's not enough. He needs more. He turns, his antennae a blur of emotion, and sees the closet door. With a snarl, he charges towards it, throwing it open. The sound of hangers clattering fills the air as he starts to rip clothes from their hangers, tossing them around the room like confetti in a tornado. Karen watches, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and fear. This is the what his condition turns him into when the pressure gets too much. Her heart aches for him, trapped in his own mind. She knows she has to be careful; any wrong move could set him off. Plankton's eye darts around the room, searching for something else to unleash his fury upon. His antennae quiver, his body still shaky. Karen moves closer, slowly, her hand reaching out. He turns to her, the anger in his gaze unmistakable. But as he sees her hand, his expression falters. Karen takes a deep breath, her voice steady. "It's okay," she says.

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 22 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 ) Plankton's mouth moves with his snores, the gauze pads in his mouth muffling the sound, the crimson tinge to the white fabric. His drool pools and runs down the side of his face. Karen watches, her thoughts a tumult of emotion. She's relieved that the procedure went well but torn apart by the knowledge that Plankton's fear was so intense. Her hand remains steadfast on his, her thumb brushing over his skin in gentle circles. The doctor checks his watch, his eyes on Plankton's slack form. "Almost time for him to wake up," he says softly. Karen nods, her heart racing as she braces herself for his reaction. Karen can't help but think about how much he's been through today, and she wonders if he'll ever trust her the same way again. The minutes tick by, each one feeling like an eternity. The only sounds in the room are the steady beeps of the monitors and the soft snores of Plankton's slumber. Karen's hand doesn't stop moving, her thumb tracing comforting patterns on his palm. When Plankton stirs, his antennae twitching slightly, Karen's eyes fill with relief. "Hey, baby," she whispers, her voice a caress. "You're okay." His eye opens slowly, blinking against the light. He looks around, his gaze finally settling on Karen. For a moment, his expression is lost, a swirl of confusion and fear. Then he sees her smile, and the world falls into place. "Huh," he whispers, his voice slurred from the anesthesia. Karen's smile widens. The numbness in his mouth is a strange, disconnected sensation, like his teeth are floating in a sea of cotton. Plankton tries to sit up, his movements clumsy and slow. Karen's hand on his shoulder is firm but gentle, guiding him back down. "Easy, sweetie," she says. The doctor nods, his expression a blend of concern and reassurance. "Just give it a few more minutes," he says. "Let the anesthesia wear off a bit more." Plankton's eye focuses on her, his mind fuzzy. The gauze in his mouth feels like a soggy sponge, absorbing the blood from his teeth. He tries to talk, but his words are muted and garbled. "Ma-" Karen nods, her smile understanding. "I know, baby. It'll be okay." The doctor checks the monitors, his expression calm. "Looks like you're coming out of it," he says. "Just a few more minutes." Karen nods, her hand still on Plankton's. Plankton's body feels strange, his movements sluggish. The numbness of his mouth spreads to his cheeks, his face feeling swollen and alien. He tries to talk. "Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma-" Karen understands his attempt at words. She leans closer, smiling gently. "It's okay, sweetie. You're okay." Her voice is a soothing song, a balm to his fearful soul. His tongue feels like a thick slab of meat, unresponsive and foreign. The drool continues to flow. Plankton's gaze moves from Karen to the doctor, his eye wide and searching. "Wheh...what...whath happen'd?" he mumbles around the gauze, his mouth feeling like it's filled with cotton. His tongue is a dead weight, refusing to form words. Karen's smile is a lifeline in the fog of his confusion. "You had a little procedure," she says, her voice gentle. "The wisdom teeth are out." Plankton's antennae twitch, trying to remember the conversation that had led to this. The fear is a distant memory now, dulled by the anesthesia. His mouth feels strange, unfamiliar. He reaches up to touch his swollen cheek, his hand shaky and clumsy. "Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma--" He tries to form words, his mind still sluggish. Karen's eyes are full of love and concern as she gently takes his hand. "It's okay," she says. "The numbness will go away soon." Plankton nods, his head lolling slightly as his body adjusts to the lack of sensation. His drool pools on the gauze pads, the saliva spilling over onto his chin. He's vaguely aware of the mess he's making, but the fear has been replaced by a dull, heavy weight. The doctor's voice is a comforting murmur in the background, talking to Karen about aftercare and pain management. Karen's hand is still in his, her fingers tight around his own. He tries to squeeze back, but his hand feels floppy and unresponsive. "K-Karen wiww I...?" he slurs, his thoughts still tangled. Her eyes are warm with comfort. "You're going to be fine," she assures him, wiping away a stray drop from the corner of his mouth. "We'll go home soon." He perks up. "Thoon?" The doctor nods. "We'll keep an eye on him for a bit longer," he says. "But you can take him home once he's more awake." Karen nods, her thumb continuing to trace gentle circles on his palm. Plankton's eye is glazed with the remnants of anesthesia, but his antennae twitch with excitement. The room spins around Plankton, the walls a blur. He tries to sit up again, his body fighting against the lingering effects of the drugs. Karen's grip is firm but loving, keeping him anchored to the chair. "Just a bit longer," she soothes. His mouth feels like a cavern, the gauze thick and unyielding. He tries to speak, his tongue a traitor against his will. "Doeth...doeth it huth?" The words come out garbled, a nonsensical string of syllables. Karen nods, her smile understanding. "Your mouth will feel funny for a bit," she explains, her voice a soothing hum. "It's normal, just give it some time." Her thumb keeps moving, a small, reassuring gesture. The doctor's words drift in and out of Plankton's awareness. "You'll have to take it easy for a few days," he's saying. "No crunchy foods, lots of ice for the swelling." Karen nods, her eyes on Plankton's face as she listens. Plankton's tongue is a sluggish weight in his mouth, his teeth a distant memory beneath the cottony numbness. He tries to form a full sentence. "Muh...muh...muh... Yith?" Plankton's voice is a garbled mess, the words sticking to his numb tongue like glue. Karen's heart squeezes in her chest as she tries not to laugh. "What did you say, sweetie?" He sighs, frustrated, his antennae drooping. "I thaid, doth Chip know?" His speech is still slurred, the words coming out like a drunken mumble. Karen nods. "He's waiting outside," she says. "He's been worried about you." The mention of Chip seems to anchor him. His eye brightens, the confusion in it clearing slightly. "Chip," he murmurs. Karen smiles. "Yes, Chip," she repeats, her voice a soft echo. "You remember now?" Plankton's antennae twitch in affirmation. "Muh...mouth." Karen nods, her expression full of understanding. "It's okay," she says. "Your mouth will feel normal again soon." The doctor's voice is a steady stream of instructions, his words a lifeline in Plankton's foggy reality. "Keep the gauze in for an hour, chew gently to keep the blood flowing," he says, his tone calm and soothing. Plankton nods, his eye unfocused. Karen's hand is a comforting weight on his shoulder, her voice a lullaby as she repeats the instructions back to him. "We'll go get some ice cream," she says, her tone hopeful. "Something soft and sweet to help your mouth feel better. Ready to meet Chip out in the lobby?" Plankton nods, his movements jerky and awkward. The numbness in his mouth still lingers, his tongue a dead weight as he tries to speak. "I-I...finks...sho." His voice is a slurred mess, but the meaning is clear. Karen laughs gently, her hands moving to help him sit up. "Let's go, then," she says, her voice filled with relief and love. Plankton's eye widens slightly as he takes in his surroundings, his movements still slow and sluggish. The doctor nods, his expression a mix of pride and sympathy. Her arm is around him, supporting his weight as she helps him stand up.

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 4 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 ) In the hallway, Chip's sobs grow quieter as he slumps against the wall, his heart feeling heavy. He didn't mean to hurt his dad; he just wanted to know what was wrong. Karen sits beside Plankton, her heart torn between her son's innocence and her husband's pain. "We need to talk to him," she says gently, stroking his antennae. "We can't let this go unaddressed. But we can do it when you're ready." Plankton nods, his body still tense. "I know," he says, his voice small. "But I just can't... I can't face him right now." Karen nods, giving his hand a comforting squeeze. "Okay, honey. Take your time. But we can't let him think that he's not loved or that his questions are wrong. We need to explain it to him properly." Plankton sighs heavily, his antennae drooping. "I know," he murmurs. "Just talk to him when I'm... ready." Karen nods, her screen shimmering with unshed tears. "Okay," she says, her voice gentle. She gives him a kiss on the forehead and leaves the room to find Chip in his own bedroom. Chip's door is ajar, and she can hear his muffled sobs. She opens it slowly, finding him curled up on his bed, his screen buried in his pillow. She approaches his side, sitting down carefully. "Chip," she says, her voice soothing. "It's okay. You can come out now." He pulls away the pillow, revealing a tear-stained screen. "But Dad..." he sniffles. Karen's eyes fill with sympathy. "I know you didn't mean it, Chip. But you hurt your dad. We need to talk about what happened. And I know you've questions about his autistic disability.." Chip sits up, his eyes red and puffy. "But Mom, why is he so mad at me? I just wanted to know what's going on." Karen sighs, her heart aching for her son. "Chip, sometimes when people are upset or scared, they say things they don't mean. Your dad's not mad at you for asking questions; he's mad at himself for not being able to explain it better. But the words you said hurt him. They hurt him because people have used them before to make him feel less than." Chip looks at her, his eyes still wet with tears. "But I don't want him to feel bad," he murmurs. "I didn't kn-" Karen cuts him off gently. "I know you didn't, Chip. But it's important for us to learn and understand. Your dad's condition isn't a weakness; it's just part of how he is. And sometimes, it can be scary for him too." Chip nods slowly, trying to comprehend the complexity of his dad's condition. "But why can't he just tell me?" he asks, his voice thick with emotion. "Why does it have to be a secret?" Karen takes a deep breath. "It's not a secret, Chip," she says gently. "It's just something private, something he's not wanting to share with everyone. But now that you know, we can help him." Chip sniffs and nods. "How?" he asks, his voice hopeful. "Well," Karen starts, "you can learn more about autism. You can ask us questions, and we'll answer them the best we can. And when you see Dad having a hard time, you can give him space, or maybe find a quiet spot for him to sit." Chip wipes his screen with the back of his hand. "Okay, Mom. But what if I want to hug him?" Karen sighs. "Honey, your dad's condition makes certain kinds of touch hard for him to handle. It's not that he doesn't want your love; he just needs it in a different way." Chip looks at her, his eyes still filled with confusion. "But I don't understand," he says, his voice shaking. "How do I know when to hug him?" Karen's smile is sad, but determined. "You'll learn, sweetie. We'll all learn together. Just remember, it's not about fixing him; it's about supporting him." Chip nods, his eyes still filled with unshed tears. "Okay," he says, his voice small. "But I don't want to make him sad." Karen squeezes his hand. "You won't, Chip. We'll get through this together." Chip looks up at her with questioning eyes. "But why does he get those... those seizures?" he asks, still trying to grasp the concept. "They're not exactly seizures, Chip," Karen says, her voice gentle. "It's part of his condition. Sometimes, his brain just needs a break from all the sensory information. It's not something you can see or feel, but it's real for him." Chip nods, his eyes still puffy from crying. "But why doesn't he just tell me when he needs a break?" he asks. "Why does he have to get so angry?" Karen sighs, trying to find the right words to explain. "Chip, your dad's feelings are sometimes like a volcano. They build up and up until they explode. It's not anger at you; it's his way of dealing with the overwhelm. And sometimes, his brain gets too much stimulation without him knowing it. It's like he's trying to read a book while everyone around him is yelling at once. It's just too much." Chip nods slowly, his eyes fixed on his mom. "But why can't he just tell me?" he asks again, his voice still shaky. Karen hugs him. "Because, honey, your dad's had to deal with this his whole life, and sometimes it's hard for him to talk about." Chip nods, trying to understand. "But what if he needs help?" he asks, his voice small. "How will I know?" "You'll learn his cues, Chip. Sometimes he'll get quiet, or his antennae will twitch more than usual. That's when you can check on him, ask if he's okay, but don't push." Chip nods, his curiosity piqued. "What if he doesn't say anything?" he asks, his screen searching hers. Karen takes a deep breath. "Then, you'll have to watch for his cues," she says, her voice calm. "If he seems overwhelmed or his antennae are moving a lot, it might be a sign." Chip's eyes light up with curiosity. "What cues, Mom?" he asks eagerly. "How do I know?" Karen smiles softly. "Well, you'll learn, Chip. Like when his antennae get really twitchy, or his eye glazes over. That's when his brain might need a break. And if he starts repeating things, or gets really still, that's another sign." Chip's eyes widen with interest. "So, how do you know, Mom?" he asks, his voice tentative. "How can I see when he's overwhelmed?" "You'll get better at it," Karen assures him. "But for now, just watch and listen. If he starts flapping his arms or repeating words, that's a sign that he might need some space. And if he turns away or covers his eye, it means he's getting too much sensory input." Chip nods, his mind racing with questions. "But you seem to know how to touch him and when to hug him. How'd yo--" Karen smiles sadly. "It's been years of practice, Chip. And I've made my share of mistakes too." She pauses, thinking. "You'll learn his cues, like when his body tenses up, or when his antennae start to quiver quickly. Those are signs he's feeling overwhelmed." Chip nods, his eyes focused on her. "But what about him getting upset?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "How do I know when he's about t---" "Chip," Karen says, cutting him off gently. "When he gets upset, his antennae might flare out, or he might rock back and forth. It's his way of self-soothing." Chip's eyes are wide with realization. "So, when he does that, I should...?" "Give him space," Karen interrupts. "Just let him know you're there without overwhelming his senses." Chip nods, trying to memorize every detail.

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 13 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 living room is dimly lit. But in the center, a disturbing sight awaits: Plankton's convulsions, his tiny body writhing on the floor. His antennae twitch erratically, his eye squeezed shut. "Plankton!" she cries out, rushing to his side. His seizure is intense, his limbs flailing uncontrollably. The room seems to pulse with his distress, a silent scream of neurological turmoil. Chip stands in the doorway, frozen in shock. He's never seen his dad like this, so vulnerable and helpless. The sight of Plankton's tiny form convulsing on the floor fills him with a fear like none other. Karen is already beside Plankton, her hands hovering, knowing better than to restrict his thrashing body. "Mom," Chip says, his voice trembling. "What do we do?" Karen's eyes never leave Plankton's contorted form, her face a mask of calm determination. "We stay here," she says, her voice steady. "We keep talking to him, let him know we care." Chip nods, his own eyes filled with fear. He takes a tentative step forward, his voice shaking. "Dad," he says softly, "it's me, Chip." His words are met with only the sound of Plankton's labored breathing and the muffled thuds of his convulsions. Karen's gaze flicks to Chip, her expression a mix of pride and anxiety. "Good boy," she whispers, before turning back to Plankton. "Shh, baby," she says, her voice soothing, like a lullaby in the chaos. "We're right here." Chip watches his mom, her hands a gentle presence near his dad's body, her voice a lifeline in the storm of his seizure. He wants to help, to do something, anything, but he's paralyzed by fear. Karen's eyes flicker to her son, her expression a silent plea for him to stay calm. She knows Plankton's sensitivity to stimuli, the way his condition can spiral if overwhelmed. "Talk to him," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the sounds of his distress. "Tell him you love him." Chip nods, his voice shaking. "Dad," he says, his voice trembling. "I love you." His words hang in the air, a soft contrast to the harsh sounds of Plankton's seizure. Plankton's body continues to convulse, but Karen notices his antennae twitch slightly, his eye fluttering open for a moment before it squeezes shut again. She sighs with relief, knowing he can hear them. "Keep talking," she whispers to Chip, her eyes never leaving Plankton. "Tell him you're here for him, that you're sorry." Chip swallows hard, his throat tight with fear. "Dad, I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to make things worse." Plankton's antennae quiver slightly, his seizure lessening but not abating. Karen's eyes are filled with desperation as she whispers, "Keep talking, Chip. He needs to hear it." Chip's voice is shaky, his eyes never leaving his father's trembling form. "I'm sorry for what I said," he murmurs. "I didn't mean to hurt you." His words are a gentle coax, trying to guide Plankton back from the edge of his breakdown. Karen's eyes are glued to Plankton's seizing body, "It's okay, baby," she says, her tone a soothing melody. "You're not alone." Chip watches his mom's steady hands hover over his dad's shaking form. He takes a deep breath, his voice a shaky thread. "I'm sorry," he repeats, his words a quiet promise. Karen's eyes flick to him, a silent thank you. The room seems to hold its breath, the air charged with hope and dread. Plankton's convulsions start to ease, his breaths coming in shallower gasps. Karen's hand reaches out, brushing his twitching antennae with a gentle touch, a silent reassurance. Chip's voice is a soft whisper, a beacon in the storm of his father's distress. "I'm sorry, Dad," he says, his eyes brimming with tears. "I don't want to fight." Karen's hand rests gently on Plankton's back, her touch as light as a feather. "It's okay, sweetie," she says, her voice a soothing lullaby. "We're here for you." Plankton's seizure starts to subside, his body gradually stilling. His antennae drop, his breaths slowing. The tension in the room eases like the retreating waves of a storm. Karen's hand remains on his back, her eyes filled with a love that's fierce and tender. "It's okay," she whispers, her voice a soft caress. "You're safe now." Her words are a gentle reminder that their love is his anchor. Plankton's body relaxes gradually, his antennae stilling. His eye opens, slowly focusing on Karen's face. His voice is weak, his words a soft rasp. "K-Karen?" "I'm here," she says, her voice calm, her hand still on his back. "You're okay." Her eyes are filled with a love that's stronger than steel, her presence a comforting weight. Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye blinking rapidly as the world swims back into focus. He looks up at her, his gaze uncertain. "I... I-I'm s-sorry," he whispers, his voice a reed in the wind. Karen's eyes are filled with pain and love. She gently guides him to sit up, her arms supporting him. "Don't be sorry," she says, her voice a balm. "We just need to talk." Plankton's antennae quiver, his eye searching hers. "Talk?" he repeats, his voice weak. "Yes," Karen says firmly, her arms around him. "We need to communicate better, all of us." Her gaze includes Chip, who's still standing awkwardly in the doorway, his eyes fixed on his father. Chip's heart pounds in his chest, his fear giving way to determination. He moves to his mother's side, his hand tentatively reaching out to his father's arm. "Dad," he says, his voice a gentle touch. Plankton's body jerks at his son's touch, but Karen's calming presence helps him steady. His antennae quiver, his eye flickering between his wife and son, the confusion giving way to a hint of understanding. "Chip?" he asks, his voice a whisper. Chip nods, his eyes filled with unshed tears. "Yeah, Dad," he says, his voice cracking. "It's me." He takes a deep breath, his hand shaking slightly as it rests on Plankton's arm. "I didn't mean what I said." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye blinking rapidly as he tries to process the situation. "You... you didn't?" he stammers, his voice filled with disbelief. Karen nods, her eyes never leaving his. "Chip didn't mean it, Plankton," she says soothingly. "He's just scared, and he loves you." Plankton's antennae droop, his eye misting with tears. "But I scared him," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "And you." Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she shakes her head. "It's not your fault, baby," she says gently. "Your autism doesn't make you a monster." Chip nods, his hand still on his father's arm, his voice steady. "Dad, I know it's not your fault," he says, his eyes meeting Plankton's. "I'm sorry for not understanding." Plankton's antennae lift slightly, his eye focusing on Chip's face. "You do?" he whispers, hope flickering in his gaze. Chip nods, his own eyes brimming with tears. "I do," he affirms, his voice stronger. "I'm here for you, Dad." Plankton's antennae twitch, his eye searching Chip's face for signs of sincerity. The silence in the room is heavy, a tangible entity filled with unspoken words and apologies. Then, ever so slightly, Plankton's antennae bob, a sign of his acceptance. "Okay," he says, his voice still shaky. "We'll talk." Karen's eyes fill with relief, a soft smile playing on her lips. She squeezes his arm gently. "Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with gratitude. "We're in this together."

ଳ🐜🪼

🫀, 🎀 ᥫ᭡.ᥫ᭡.⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🐲🐯🥲

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 5 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 ) "But what if Dad's hurt?" Chip asks, his voice small. Karen's screen met his, filled with understanding. "If he's in pain or really upset, he might pull his antennae in tightly, or his whole body might get stiff," she explains. "But remember, always come get me." Chip nods solemnly, his brain racing with the new information. He watches his mom, his eyes wide with curiosity. "But what if he's happy, Mom?" he asks, eager to know more about the silent language of his dad's body. "When your dad's happy, his eye might twinkle, and his body might get more relaxed," Karen says with a small smile. Chip nods, his curiosity growing. "And if he's sad?" he asks, his voice tentative. Karen's smile is warm and gentle. "If he's sad, you'll see his antennae droop, like his spirits," she says, her voice soothing. "And his eye might not look at you directly." Chip nods, his eyes wide with understanding. "What if he's scared, Mom?" he asks, his voice small. Karen thinks for a moment, her hand on his shoulder. "If he's scared, his antennae will quiver rapidly," she says, mimicking the movement with her fingers. "And he may even convulse slightly. It's his body's way of protecting his brain." Chip's eyes are glued to his mother's hand, his mind racing with the implications. "What about touches? You seem to kn-" Karen cuts him off with a quick smile. "Well, your dad's touch sensitivity is unique. Sometimes, he enjoys gentle pressure, like a squeeze of his hand. But other times, even the slightest brush can feel unbearable." She takes his hand, her voice calm. "You'll learn his likes and dislikes. And remember, Chip, it's not about what you think is right; it's about what he needs." Chip nods, his mind racing. "But Mom, how will I know what to do?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. Karen smiles reassuringly. "You'll learn, Chip. Just watch his reactions. If he pulls away from you, it might be too much. And if he leans into you, it's okay." Chip's brows furrow with concentration. "But what if I don't know the difference?" Karen's eyes are gentle as she looks at her son. "You'll learn, Chip. Just start small. If he's okay with you touching his hand, that's a good place to start." Chip nods, his hand tracing a pattern on the quilt. "But what if I hug him again and he doesn't like it?" His voice is full of doubt. "It's okay if you make mistakes, Chip," Karen says gently. "What's important is that you ask him. If you're not sure, just ask, 'Dad, do you need a hug?' And if he says no, or if he seems uncomfortable, just respect his boundaries." Chip nods, his eyes still filled with questions. "But what if he doesn't say anything?" he asks. "Then, Chip," Karen says, her voice soft, "you'll have to be really observant. Sometimes, his silence can speak louder than words. If he seems tense or his antennae are stiff, maybe it's not the right moment. But if he looks relaxed, then that might be a good time." Chip nods, his thoughts swirling. "But what if I still don't know?" he asks, his voice laced with anxiety. Karen takes a deep breath. "Chip, it's okay to not know everything," she says. "But what you can do is pay attention to his body language. If he seems tense or starts to withdraw, that's when you should stop." Chip nods, his mind racing. "What if I want to help him feel better?" he asks, his voice filled with concern. "You can, Chip," Karen says, smiling softly. "But you have to learn his language of touch. Some days, he might enjoy a gentle back rub, or the brush of your hand on his arm. Just go slow, and always ask first. Why don't we go check on him now?" They stand up, Chip's heart pounding in his chest. He follows his mom down the hallway, his thoughts racing. How will he know what to do when they get there? How can he possibly make things right?

ᴰᵉᶜᵉᵐᵇᵉʳ ⁹ᵗʰ ²⁰¹⁹

ᴊᴜsᴛ ғᴏʀ ᴀ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ..

s💌

🍑𓂸𓂺

👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨🍆🍑𓂸👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨👌🏳️‍🌈🧔‍♂️🧔‍♂️🔞🏳️‍🌈🧑🏿‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏽🧑🏿‍❤️‍💋‍🧑🏽

★*´¨) ¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨) (¸.•´ (¸.•`Happy Birthday • ○ ° ★ 　　　　　　 ღღღღღ 　　　　　╭┻┻┻┻╮ 　　　　　 ෆ⃛ HAPPY ෆ⃛ 　　　╭━┻━━━━┻━╮ 　　　 ෆ⃛ෆ⃛ BIRTHDAY ෆ⃛ෆ⃛ 　╭━┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻━╮ 　ღڿڰۣ✿✿ڿڰۣღღڿڰۣ✿✿ڿڰۣღ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

🔞╰⋃╯

𓍢ִ໋🎂 ༘ ⋆˚🌷

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 20 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 ) Karen's arms wrap around him, her hands gentle on his back as she whispers words of comfort, her voice a balm to his frayed nerves. "You're safe, baby," she says. "You're safe with me." Plankton's sobs slow, his body relaxing marginally in her embrace. His antennae still thrash, but with less urgency, when Plankton's main dentist comes in. Dr. Musselman, Plankton's main dentist, rushes into the room, his eyes wide with concern at the sight of his patient's distress. Karen quickly explains the situation, her voice tight with emotion. "He's having an autistic shutdown," she says, her hand on Plankton's trembling back. "He's sensitive to sensory overload." He nods. "You can come into my exam room, follow me." The doctor's exam room is dimmer, the air cooler, and the smell less intense. The change in atmosphere is like a gentle caress against Plankton's overstimulated sensors. He lets out a shaky sigh, his antennae unfurling slightly. Dr. Musselman's eyes are kind, his voice a soothing balm. "Hi, Plankton," he says, his tone gentle. "Remember me?" Plankton's gaze flickers to him, his antennae stilling. "You're my other dentist," he whispers, his voice hoarse from the sobbing. The doctor nods, his smile reassuring. "That's right. I know you don't like surprises, so I'm sorry for that, for Jill. But we're going to take it slow, okay?" Plankton nods, his antennae twitching slightly. "We need to finish your cleaning," Karen says, her voice gentle. "But we'll do it with Dr. Musselman. He'll always work here, and can be your dentist instead of Jill from now on!" "Okay," Dr. Musselman says, his voice calm and measured. "We're going to take some x-rays now. It's quick and painless." Plankton's antennae perk up slightly at the mention of painlessness. He nods, his eye searching the doctor's face for any sign of deception. The doctor leads them to a small, enclosed space, the whirring of the x-ray machine a soothing constant. Karen holds Plankton's hand, her grip firm but gentle, as he sits in the chair. The doctor explains the process, his words clear and concise. Plankton nods, his breathing slowing slightly as he tries to comfort himself. The x-ray machine's cold metal touches his jaw, and he jolts. "It's okay," Karen whispers, her hand on his shoulder. "It's just a little picture of your teeth." Plankton's eye closes, his antennae stilling. He nods, his trust in his wife a beacon in the storm of his fear. Dr. Musselman's movements are careful, his voice calm. "Open wide," he says. Plankton's mouth opens slightly, his teeth clenched. The x-ray film slides into place, cold and slightly sticky. He tastes the metal, feels the pressure. But it's not the same as the probe. It's bearable. The machine whirs to life, the sensation of the x-rays a gentle buzz against his skin. His antennae quiver, but he doesn't pull away. Karen's hand squeezes his, a silent promise of support. "Good job," she murmurs, her voice a warm whisper in the cool air. The doctor's voice is steady. "Almost done," he says, his eyes on the machine's readout. Plankton nods, his breaths shallow but even. The fear has receded to a dull throb, a distant echo of the panic that had consumed him. The x-ray machine clicks off, the buzz of its operation silenced. Dr. Musselman gently removes the film, his movements careful not to startle Plankton. "Good boy," he says, his voice a warm caress. Plankton's antennae twitch in response, a tentative sign of trust.

‹𝟹

DO YOU TRUST ME pt. 1 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 ) Karen was out buying cookies when Chip arrived home. So Chip goes up to find his dad Plankton, knowing his mom Karen's still shopping. He pushed open the door to his parent's bedroom, where Plankton sits on his bed. "Dad; hi!" Chip yells. Plankton's eye widens, startled by Chip. His body is as still as a statue. For a moment, Chip thinks his dad might be playing a prank on him, but then realizes something isn't right. "Dad? Dad!" Chip shakes Plankton's arm, but there's no response. Panic starts to build in his chest as he calls out louder, but Plankton doesn't budge. Chip's seen his dad in his zone before, but this is different. Plankton's eye glazed over, unblinking. Chip doesn't understand why he's not reacting, and he's too scared to leave the room. He tries once more to get his father's attention. "Dad, you're scaring me," Chip whispers, his voice trembling. Yet Plankton remains motionless, a stark contrast to the chaos unfolding inside Chip. Chip's heard of people passing out, but his dad has never done this before. He tries to recall any information about his dad that might explain this eerie situation but comes up empty-handed. Everything seems in place, but the sight of his dad, so unresponsive, sends a chill down his spine, his eyes never leaving Plankton's still form. How's he gonna wake his dad up? He's seen him get lost in his thoughts before, his mind a whirlwind of genius ideas, but this... this is something he's never seen. He touches Plankton's face gently, expecting a flinch or a grumble, but nothing happens. It's as if his dad isn't even there, like he's a mannequin in a store window. "Dad?" Chip calls out, his voice a little louder now, trying to shake off his fear. "You okay?" Nothing. He needs to try something else. He remembers a TV show where a person was snapped out of a trance by a loud noise. Chip rushes to the kitchen, grabbing a pot and spoon, his footsteps echoing in the silent house. His hands shake as he crashes the pot against the spoon, creating a cacophony. He didn't know he's just causing his dad more pain. The sound reverberates throughout the house, but Plankton remains still. Chip's hope dwindles, fear taking its place. He wonders if he should call for help, but what if his dad wakes up? He's always so independent. What's Karen going to think? But Chip put the pot and spoon back. He goes back to Plankton, whom Chip didn't realize retreated even further into his overload with the touching and noises. Chip's panic is turning into something more akin to dread. "Dad?" Chip's voice cracks as he calls out again, his eyes scanning Plankton's face for any flicker of recognition. Yet none comes. Oblivious to the concept of autistic absence seizures, Chip has no idea that his dad's lack of response is due to a bombard of sensory input. In his desperation, Chip starts to pat his dad's cheeks, hoping to bring him back to reality. Plankton's skin feels cool and clammy under his fingertips, and the sight of his father's normally vivid eye now vacant sends a wave of terror crashing through his body. He's seen him zone out before, lost in his own world of inventions and schemes, but this is different. It's not the same as when he's busy at the chum bucket. He tries to remember if his dad ever talked about any health issues, but all that comes to mind are tales of his dad's past adventures. Could it be something serious? Was it something he missed? The weight of the situation presses down on him, making it hard to breathe. He feels helpless, unsure of what to do next. He's just a kid, not a doctor or a hero. Yet Chip decides trying to force him out of it. "Dad, come on, you gotta snap out of it!" Chip says, his voice shaking. He's seen this in movies, right? Someone's got to shake the person or something? He decides to do it. Gently at first, then more firmly as panic sets in. But Plankton remains unmoving, his gaze unchanged. Chip's fear turns into full-blown terror. What if his dad's in some kind of danger? What if he's stuck like this forever? Chip's mind races with worst-case scenarios as he continues to pat Plankton's face, his voice getting louder with each attempt. But no matter what he does, his dad doesn't react. The room feels like it's closing in around him. He tries to hold back tears not knowing what to do when your dad has a... what is this? He can't even name whatever's happening. He's seen his dad zone out before, during dinner or when he's in the middle of one of his crazy inventions, but this is something else. This is not the usual Plankton. This is not the dad he knows. He tries another way to force him out of it, with no knowledge of risking literally making Plankton get literally sick. He shakes Plankton harder, his voice growing more desperate. "Dad, you gotta snapshot out of this! It's not funny anymore!" But his father's body is like dead weight, his eye still unblinking. Chip feels a tear slip down his screen. He tries a different approach to physically force his dad out of this. He tickles him. Plankton always hates tickling, so surely this will work. But his dad's body doesn't even flinch. It's like he's not even there. He tries to think logically, but fear clouds his judgment. He doesn't understand why Plankton isn't snapping out of it. Why isn't he getting annoyed or saying his usual, 'Chip, stop that!' So Chip decides he needs to take matters into his own hands. He decides to forcefully get Plankton to react. He grabs a pillow and holds it over Plankton, thinking that an impromptu pillow fight might bring him back to the present. But even as Plankton's body topples to the side, he doesn't react. Chip's seen his dad ignore him before, but this is not the same. This is not the Plankton who would normally swat the pillow away with a laugh or a scolding. By then, Karen's finally come home from shopping, setting the cookies on the kitchen counter when Chip runs up to her in tears. "Mom! Dad's DEAD or, something.." he sobs, pulling her to the bedroom. "He won't wake up, and he's not moving!" Karen follows Chip into the bedroom, and she immediately knows what's happening. She sees Plankton lying on the bed, his body completely still, and Chip's tear-stained screen. Plankton never wanted Chip to know of his neurodisability, so they never told. It's something they both learnt to deal with while hiding it from Chip, but now Chip's seeing it firsthand. Karen aches for her son, his innocence shattered by fear. Yet she knew Plankton needs her more right now. "Mom, I just said hi to him and he froze. I've tried to shake him, yell at him, tickle him, and even hit him with a pillow, but he won't wake up!" Chip's words come out in a frantic rush. Karen's eyes fill with understanding and she hurries to Plankton's side. "Chip," she says calmly, knowing now's not the time to explain to Chip about neurodisabilities, nor how Chip unintentionally triggered him more; "Mommy will handle it. Why don't you go to your room? I'll take care of daddy." But Chip is too scared to leave his dad's side. He clings to Karen's leg, his small voice quivering. "But I--" Karen gently peels him off her and gives him a reassuring smile. "I know, sweetie. But let me take care of this. You go to your room, and I'll call you when everything's okay." Reluctantly, Chip nods, his eyes still glued to his dad. As he leaves the room, his mind fills with worries and questions. What is happening? Why won't his dad wake up? Meanwhile, Karen sat down by Plankton on the bed as she gently took his hand. She knew this was a moment she had been dreading. Plankton's autistic absence seizures were a part of their lives that they had managed to keep hidden from their son. They didn't want to scare Chip, and Plankton was always so embarrassed by them. But now, it was out in the open, and she had to find a way to explain without frightening Chip further. But for now, she needs to help Plankton out of the absence seizure first.

Birthday (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ🧸🎀🎉🎂🎀💗🥳ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡•ﻌ•❀ᥫ᭡꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡-`♡´-₊˚⊹♡˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚༘⋆🌷🫧💭₊˚ෆ💝🍰♡ ༘*.ﾟ🧸🎀⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆(>•<)💭🧋♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖❤︎💛♥︎ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩ♡ ༘*.ﾟℒ𝓸𝓿𝒆 𝔂𝓸𝓾❦𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི⛇☃︎𝕚 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦 🤍⋆˚✿˖° 𐙚 ₊ ⊹ ♡ִֶָ࿆𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Wishing you a fantastic birthday and a wonderful year ahead😘🥳🥳🎉🎂🎀💗🥳

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢉⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⣹⡇⠀⠀⡼⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢠⠏⠀⠀⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣶⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⣼⠀⣀⡴⠦⣤⣤⣠⠇⣸⠟⠳⣆⢸⠃⡼⡏⠻⣆⣰⠛⢲⣼⠉⢡⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡞⠀⣸⠁⣀⣠⡼⠃⢠⡇⣰⠋⢠⡷⠀⣸⡿⠀⢠⣾⠀⢹⡟⠀⣰⢿⠀⣿⠇⢠⣿⠃⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢰⠇⠀⠛⢉⣉⣠⡶⠀⣼⣴⠃⣠⣿⠁⢰⡿⠃⢠⢏⡞⢀⣾⠁⣰⢣⡏⢀⣿⠀⡼⠃⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡞⠀⣰⠛⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⡇⡇⢀⡿⢁⡤⠾⣁⢀⠻⣞⣡⡾⡟⢠⡛⣏⣠⠟⠸⣆⣠⡆⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⠞⠁⢧⣈⡴⠋⠓⢺⡏⢸⠛⠚⠉⢸⠇⣸⠉⠉⣥⣄⠀⠀⢸⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣾⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⡞⠀⠀⠀⡾⢀⡇⠀⠀⢿⡘⠓⠶⢏⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠤⠤⢤⣀⠀⠀⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⣇⢀⡀⠀⠙⢳⠾⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⣀⣀⡤⢤⡙⢧⡀⠙⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣽⠏⣹⣆⣰⡏⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠖⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⣸⠉⠀⢀⡼⠁⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠋⢉⡉⢠⣄⣤⡄⢨⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢠⠇⣠⡴⠋⣀⡴⢫⡞⢛⣧⡴⠲⣤⣭⣉⡿⠁⡾⠀⡼⢀⡞⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⡾⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠞⠋⠁⠐⠛⢧⡀⣼⠛⣿⢻⠄⡀⠉⢠⣿⠃⢰⠃⣸⠣⣼⡟⠁⣸⣤⠞⠉⣻⠁⣸⣡⠞⠉⡙⠗⢶⣀⡴⢿⣤⡴⢦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⣠⠶⠒⠒⠒⣶⠀⣿⠇⢰⣇⡟⢠⠇⢠⡏⡟⠀⡞⣰⠃⣸⢏⠀⢠⣿⠋⢀⣾⠏⢠⣿⠃⢠⣾⠏⠀⣼⡟⠀⣸⡿⠀⣠⢿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⢠⡏⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣰⣿⠀⣾⡾⣡⣿⠀⣼⡟⡁⢠⣷⠃⠀⢃⣿⠀⡾⠃⢀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⢠⣿⠋⠀⢸⡿⠁⢰⡿⠁⢰⠃⣼⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⣸⣀⡤⠚⢁⣠⠞⠁⢹⡀⣻⡴⠃⠸⣤⣨⠶⠳⠤⠴⣆⣠⠟⠹⠦⠴⣆⠘⢋⡴⣄⣉⣅⠘⣁⣴⡄⢛⣠⣄⠈⡀⠀⣯⣠⠿⣶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣧⡀⢉⣀⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣈⣽⠿⠛⢻⣍⠁⠉⢹⡇⢸⠻⣇⣀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⡶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⡘⠧⢤⣼⠁⣸⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢋⣀⣤⡴⠖⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⠤⠶⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢟⡛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓎⩇⩇:⩇⩇🎉🎂🎀💗🥳

- ̗̀ 🎂𝙃‌𝘼‌𝙋‌𝙋‌𝙔 𝘽‌𝙄‌𝙍‌𝙏‌𝙃‌𝘿‌𝘼‌𝙔🥂 ̖́-

/\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ※*・:*:｀♪:*:。*・☆* ./づ~🎁 Happy Birthday🎉🥳🎁 🍰🌸🌼♡ ༘*˚⋆💐🧸🎀⋆˚ꕤ*.❤️🥂

°˚˖𓍢🌷✧˚.🎀⋆˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠤⠤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢉⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠴⠒⠉⠉⠉⠙⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⣹⡇⠀⠀⡼⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢠⠏⠀⠀⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣶⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇ ⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⣼⠀⣀⡴⠦⣤⣤⣠⠇⣸⠟⠳⣆⢸⠃⡼⡏⠻⣆⣰⠛⢲⣼⠉⢹⡆⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⡞⠀⣸⠁⣀⣠⡼⠃⢠⡇⣰⠋⢠⡷⠀⣸⡿⠀⢠⣾⠀⢹⡟⠀⣰⢿⠀⣿⠇⢠⣿⠃⢠⡟⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⢰⠇⠀⠛⢉⣉⣠⡶⠀⣼⣴⠃⣠⣿⠁⢰⡿⠃⢠⢏⡞⢀⣾⠁⣰⢣⡏⢀⣿⠀⡼⠃⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏ ⠀⡞⠀⣰⠛⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⡇⡇⢀⡿⢁⡤⠾⣁⢀⠻⣞⣡⡾⡟⢠⡛⣏⣠⠟⠸⣆⣠⡆⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣄⣀⣠⠴⠚⠁⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀ ⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⠞⠁⢧⣈⡴⠋⠓⢺⡏⢸⠛⠚⠉⢸⠇⣸⠉⠉⣥⣄⠀⠀⢸⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠋⠀⠀ ⣾⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⡞⠀⠀⠀⡾⢀⡇⠀⠀⢿⡘⠓⠶⢏⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠤⠤⢤⣀⠀⠀⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⣇⢀⡀⠀⠙⢳⠾⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠛⠛⣉⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⣀⣀⡤⢤⡙⢧⡀⠙⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣽⠏⣹⣆⣰⡏⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠖⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠁⠀⢀⡼⠉⢙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⣸⠉⠀⢀⡼⠁⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠋⢉⡉⢠⣄⣤⡄⢨⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡟⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢠⠇⣠⡴⠋⣀⡴⢫⡞⢛⣧⡴⠲⣤⣭⣉⡿⠁⡾⠀⡼⢀⡞⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⡾⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠀⠀⠀⢰⠃⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠞⠋⠁⠐⠛⢧⡀⣼⠛⣿⢻⠄⡀⠉⢠⣿⠃⢰⠃⣸⠣⣼⡟⠁⣸⣤⠞⠉⣻⠁⣸⣡⠞⠉⡙⠗⢶⣀⡴⢿⣤⡴⢦⡄⡏⠀⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⣠⠶⠒⠒⠒⣶⠀⣿⠇⢰⣇⡟⢠⠇⢠⡏⡟⠀⡞⣰⠃⣸⢏⠀⢠⣿⠋⢀⣾⠏⢠⣿⠃⢠⣾⠏⠀⣼⡟⠀⣸⡿⠀⣠⢿⠇⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⢠⡏⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣰⣿⠀⣾⡾⣡⣿⠀⣼⡟⡁⢠⣷⠃⠀⢃⣿⠀⡾⠃⢀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⢠⣿⠋⠀⢸⡿⠁⢰⡿⠁⢰⠃⣼⠀⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⣸⣀⡤⠚⢁⣠⠞⠁⢹⡀⣻⡴⠃⠸⣤⣨⠶⠳⠤⠴⣆⣠⠟⠹⠦⠴⣆⠘⢋⡴⣄⣉⣅⠘⣁⣴⡄⢛⣠⣄⠈⡀⠀⣯⣠⠿⣶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣧⡀⢉⣀⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣈⣽⠿⠛⢻⣍⠁⠉⢹⡇⢸⠻⣇⣀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⡶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⡘⠧⢤⣼⠁⣸⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢋⣀⣤⡴⠖⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⠤⠶⠚⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢟⡛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

birthday 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 𐙚 ᡣ𐭩

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡖⠙⡢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⠶⠞⠛⠿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣇⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠋⢠⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⡉⠈⠛⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢦⣴⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢈⠁⣀⡄⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠓⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠉⠉⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠹⣆⠀⠀ ⢠⣒⣊⢍⣩⢙⣩⣍⡩⡇⠀⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡀⠀ ⣸⣀⣈⣁⣀⣉⣀⣀⣠⣇⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡆⠘⣇⠀ ⠉⠉⠉⠛⠿⠻⣯⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢿⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⣄⠀⢠⡞⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢸⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠋⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⠘⣇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠟⠁⠀⠀⢻

🍰🎂✨💫💛 birthday(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂

💕✌️

:3

ღღ ღღ ღღ ღ ║║║║║║║ _ 𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝕓𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 ☆_ I__________________l ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ໒꒰ྀི ˃ ᵕ ˂ ꒱ྀི১ _I_◡_◡I____I_◡_◡I__ 　l ෆ⃛ HAPPY ෆ⃛ l 　l ෆ⃛ BIRTHDAY ෆ⃛ l l ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡l ━━━━━━━━━━

✨🎂🎉💐

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🤰🏼🏥😖👩‍🍼

ღ ║ (사랑) ღ 🌸🌸 ღ ║ (폭죽)(폭죽)(폭죽) ║ ｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡🌸🌸🌸🌸 ｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡ 🌸🌸🌸 ·̩͙. ᘏ▸◂ᘏ .·̩͙ 🌸🌸🌸 🌸 ꒰ ⸝⸝ɞ̴̶̷ ·̮ ɞ̴̶̷⸝⸝꒱ 🌸 🌸 ┏━♡━U(케익)U━♡━┓ 🌸 🌸 ♡̥‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̊ ̥‧*˚̩͙👑̥‧*˚̩͙*‧₊̥̊‧*˚̩͙* ♡ 🌸 🌸 ♡ ❤️ ⒽⒶⓅⓅⓎ ❤️ ♡ 🌸 🌸 ♡ ⒷⒾⓇⓉⒽⒹⒶⓎ ♡ 🌸 🌸┗━♡━━━━━♡━┛ 🌸 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

🎉🎁🎂🍰

happy birthday ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚♡

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠤⠤⠤⢤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⢦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡾⢉⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠴⠒⠉⠉⠉⠙⠲⢤⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠋⣹⡇⠀⠀⡼⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢦⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⠁⢠⠏⠀⠀⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⢶⡄⠀⠀⠀⣶⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠘⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢇ ⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⡟⠀⣼⠀⣀⡴⠦⣤⣤⣠⠇⣸⠟⠳⣆⢸⠃⡼⡏⠻⣆⣰⠛⢲⣼⠉⢹⡆⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⡞⠀⣸⠁⣀⣠⡼⠃⢠⡇⣰⠋⢠⡷⠀⣸⡿⠀⢠⣾⠀⢹⡟⠀⣰⢿⠀⣿⠇⢠⣿⠃⢠⡟⠀⠈⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⢰⠇⠀⠛⢉⣉⣠⡶⠀⣼⣴⠃⣠⣿⠁⢰⡿⠃⢠⢏⡞⢀⣾⠁⣰⢣⡏⢀⣿⠀⡼⠃⠀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠈⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡏ ⠀⡞⠀⣰⠛⠉⠀⢸⠁⠀⡇⡇⢀⡿⢁⡤⠾⣁⢀⠻⣞⣡⡾⡟⢠⡛⣏⣠⠟⠸⣆⣠⡆⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣄⣀⣠⠴⠚⠁⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀ ⢰⠃⢠⡇⠀⠀⠀⠘⠶⠞⠁⢧⣈⡴⠋⠓⢺⡏⢸⠛⠚⠉⢸⠇⣸⠉⠉⣥⣄⠀⠀⢸⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡴⠋⠀⠀ ⣾⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⡞⠀⠀⠀⡾⢀⡇⠀⠀⢿⡘⠓⠶⢏⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣧⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⠴⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠤⠤⠤⢤⣀⠀⠀⡏⢰⡇⠀⠀⠀⡇⢸⣇⢀⡀⠀⠙⢳⠾⣏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⠟⠛⠛⣩⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠋⠀⣀⣀⡤⢤⡙⢧⡀⠙⠚⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⣽⠏⣹⣆⣰⡏⢠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠖⢾⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⠁⠀⢀⡼⠉⢙⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⣸⠉⠀⢀⡼⠁⣠⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡖⠋⢉⡉⢠⣄⣤⡄⢨⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠏⢀⡞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⡿⠀⠀⢀⡼⠁⠀⡾⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⢠⠇⣠⡴⠋⣀⡴⢫⡞⢛⣧⡴⠲⣤⣭⣉⡿⠁⡾⠀⡼⢀⡞⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡟⠀⡾⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⡟⠄⠀⠀⣰⠃⠀⣸⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠇⠀⠞⠋⠁⠐⠛⢧⡀⣼⠛⣿⢻⠄⡀⠉⢠⣿⠃⢰⠃⣸⠣⣼⡟⠁⣸⣤⠞⠉⣻⠁⣸⣡⠞⠉⡙⠗⢶⣀⡴⢿⣤⡴⢦⡔⡏⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⡾⠀⣠⠶⠒⠒⠒⣶⠀⣿⠇⢰⣇⡟⢠⠇⢠⡏⡟⠀⡞⣰⠃⣸⢏⠀⢠⣿⠋⢀⣾⠏⢠⣿⠃⢠⣾⠏⠀⣼⡟⠀⣸⡿⠀⣨⢿⠇⣰⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠇⢠⡏⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⣰⣿⠀⣾⡾⣡⣿⠀⣼⡟⡁⢠⣷⠃⠀⢃⣿⠀⡾⠃⢀⣿⡏⠀⣸⡇⢠⣿⠋⠀⢸⡿⠁⢰⡿⠁⢰⠃⣼⡐⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣾⠀⣸⣀⡤⠚⢁⣠⠞⠁⢹⡀⣻⡴⠃⠸⣤⣨⠶⠳⠤⠴⣆⣠⠟⠹⠦⠴⣆⠘⢋⡴⣄⣉⣅⠘⣁⣴⡄⢛⣠⣄⠘⡀⠀⣯⣠⡿⣶⢋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣧⡀⢉⣀⡤⠖⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡾⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣈⣽⠿⠛⢻⣍⠁⠉⢹⡇⢸⠻⣯⣀⣼⠗⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⡴⠟⠁⠀⠀⣀⣠⡶⠞⠋⠀⠀⠀⢸⡘⠧⢤⣿⠁⣸⢠⠋⠉⠁⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠟⢋⣀⣤⡴⠖⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠲⠤⠶⠚⠋⠸⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⢟⡛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢨⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ happy birthday dear tuxedo sam! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ⋆˚✿˖° plus, happy mothers day as well! thank you mum! ~ may twelve, sunday, 2024 ~ ∧,,,∧ (  ̳• · • ̳) - strawbiepie! /    づ♡ a birthday present for you! ⟡₊ ⊹ /ᐠ｡ꞈ｡ᐟ\ now, it's time for the cake!! blow out the candles and make a wish...🎂 🍰 happy 45th birthday to our penguin friend 🍰

🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 (づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ♡ 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

꒒ ০ ⌵ ୧ ♡

🌟。💕。🤗 🍀 。🎁 。🎉 🍾 🌟 ✨。＼｜／。🌺 🎉 Happy 🥰 🎈 🍸 Birthday ! 🥂 💜。／｜＼。💎 。🍀。 🌹。🎉。 🌟。 😊。 🎶

🎁💐🎀🎈💫

✰ ✰ ✰

⁰⁶·⁰⁴·²⁰¹⁹

💀 <))> _/\_... 🕧

(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂(づ๑•ᴗ•๑)づ🎂

/\___/\ ꒰ ˶• ༝ - ˶꒱ ./づ~🎁 Happy Birthday🎉🥳

✨🎂 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 🎂❤ 📍 🍇 🎁 📍 🍇 🎁 📍 📍 🎉🥳🎉🥳🥳🥳🎉🎈🎈🎈🎉🥳🎉🎈🎉🎉🎁 🍇 📍 🎂 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳 🍰🍰🍰🍰🎊🎊🎊🎊🍰🎊🎊🎊🧁🧁🧁👑👑👑👑👑🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷🌷*卄ᥲρρy ᗪɪωᥲℓɪ😘🌹🎉🎂

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢀⣠⢤⡴⣽⣶⢶⡿⣖⣆⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣾⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠾⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡿⣾⣿⢟⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⡖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣻⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢣⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣷⡿⡻⣿⣿⠋⠰⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣷⣇⣿⣿⠀⠀⡘⡘⢅⠘⠛⢋⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⡀⠀⠜⡰⢈⠌⡱⣣⢙⡯⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡘⠄⡓⠖⣢⣤⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⢋⠞⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⡵⠛⠀⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⡁⠔⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⠋⡄⡇⢰⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣃⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⢘⠀⠈⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢮⠘⠀⠡⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠦⣄⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠜⣼⠀⠁⠀⢢⡠⣿⣿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⢬⡕⣜⣦⠢⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠏⠉⡟⡛⢿⣮⠘⣼⠀⠀⠄⠀⠳⣩⡆⠚⡷⢮⡷⣛⡟⢿⣄⠣⢼⣇⢣⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠁⡸⣍⠷⡾⡄⣷⡈⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⢸⠇⢰⡹⢧⣻⣽⡸⣡⠯⣓⢞⡇⢎⠥⡁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⡈⢠⡛⣬⢻⠃⣷⣿⣟⡀⢀⠀⠡⠀⡌⡆⠲⣝⢯⡖⣿⡱⢆⠯⡽⣯⡼⣊⠾⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⠃⢬⢳⡹⣾⠀⣿⣿⣿⣧⠸⠀⠀⢆⢱⠃⢴⣛⡼⣳⣯⣳⡜⢦⡳⣟⠃⠙⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠰⢀⡏⢶⣹⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⢰⢘⡀⡗⣎⢷⣣⡷⢭⡻⣷⣿⣯⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡂⢼⡘⣧⣿⢠⡀⣡⣿⣿⠟⠛⣆⠀⢤⢷⠀⣽⣚⡬⢧⡹⢶⡹⡜⡽⣌⢫⣎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡏⣶⠹⡜⣥⢫⢵⡳⣯⢿⠐⠔⠮⠗⢸⢂⢥⣞⣵⣻⣎⠳⢧⢻⣙⣩⡜⠉⠈⠣⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⠹⠶⠯⠜⢶⣫⣾⣵⣻⣦⢔⡨⣿⢳⢧⢗⣠⡀⢰⢏⣾⣛⣷⣻⣽⣻⣴⣳⣤⣀⠘⡄⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢏⠐⢹⠋⠀⠃⠰⠀⠿⡚⠷⠫⡖⡽⣺⣷⣛⣮⣿⠾⢾⢶⣿⡌⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⢐⠖⠁⡰⠅⠠⠄⠀⠤⡃⠀⠳⠒⠌⠓⡲⣏⡿⣽⢯⣿⢀⡒⠯⠀⠛⢠⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡀⠁⡠⠅⠠⠘⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠣⢀⠀⢣⢀⠣⡕⢮⣝⣯⣗⣻⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠄⢠⠊⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠲⢀⠯⣜⢣⡞⡾⣵⢯⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢫⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢎⡲⣍⠾⣩⡗⣯⢞⡷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⣹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⢉⠶⡱⣎⢻⡵⣻⢼⣛⣞⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠐⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡐⣣⢟⣆⠰⣀⠆⡄⢃⠦⣙⠮⡵⣹⢺⡜⣧⢿⣹⡞⣧⠷⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢣⢄⠠⡀⡄⡔⣦⣝⣳⢯⣿⣢⠑⡮⠜⣭⠲⣍⠾⣱⢣⡗⣯⡽⣞⣷⣻⣭⣛⢇⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢮⣱⠳⣜⡳⣵⠾⣭⢷⣻⣷⣍⠲⡙⢦⠻⣬⢻⡵⣛⣾⢳⡯⣟⣶⣛⣮⡽⣾⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⡍⢻⡓⠿⢾⢻⠽⣯⣟⣿⣿⣷⣭⣂⠟⣼⣣⠿⣽⣚⣯⢷⣻⢾⡽⣞⣷⣳⣆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠈⠙⢌⠣⣝⢲⢯⡿⣿⣿⣿⡉⢟⠲⣭⣟⣳⡟⣞⣯⢯⡿⣽⣻⣞⣿⣿⡄⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢂⠀⠀⠀⠒⡈⢏⠾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠱⣔⢭⣳⢻⡽⣞⢯⣽⣳⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢕⣢⢤⣀⣰⣌⣷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣻⡌⠒⢯⢷⣾⣧⣿⣼⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠟⠄⠈⢳⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

🎉🎂✨🍰🥳😘🌹🎉🎂ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ🥂🧁🥂🧸🎀💌🧚‍♀️💗🌨🥡🍥

✮ ✮ ✮

Happy birthday to you!🎉🎂🎀💗🥳🥰

Happy birthday 🎂🎁

.ೃ࿔:･🎂🍰🎉‧~˚彡

～♡.＾＾.♡〜

🎊

happy birthday vance💛❤️🎁🎂🎈

ᴬᵘᵍ ²⁵, ²⁰¹⁹

×͜×

happy 😊, birthday 😚

(\_/) blow out the candles!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) > 🎂 ⋅°⋆.ೃ࿔*:･☁️ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✦ ‧₊˚ ‧₊˚ ⋅ .𖥔 ݁ ˖

⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

🎂🧸✨

🥳🎂

🐻⭐🌷⁠♡

🧸💙👶🏻

🐻,✨,🌼 cute 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 🧸🧸

💕🫶💘💐🌸🌷🎀

🎂❤️🥳🎉🎊

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎂 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆ *ੈ𑁍༘⋆°🥂⋆.ೃ🍾࿔*:･ 🎉🎂🎀💗🥳

Happy birthday 🎂🥳🎉🎁🎈💝🎁🎂 🎁🎉🎂✨🍰🥳

>ᴗ<°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

🎁(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ have a lovely birthday ♡(,,❛ ֊ ❛❀)🎁

𐙚 ᡣ𐭩