GOYDA Emojis & Text

⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟧⬛ ⬛🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧🟧⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠖⠒⠢⢄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠀⠤⠤⡀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠑⢄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⠞⠁⠀⣀⣠⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⢤⣤⠤⠤⠤⠤⣤⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣣⠔⠚⠻⣄⣡⣞⣄⣠⣆⠀⢼⣼⣄⣀⣀⣠⣆⠜⡘⡻⠟⠙⣲⠦⣈⢳⡀⠀⠀ ⡇⠒⢲⡤⡜⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠤⣖⠬⠓⠂⠉⣿⠇⠀⠀ ⠙⠲⠦⠬⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣞⠀⢀⣲⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣟⢢⠃⠀⠀⠀⠉⠙⠻⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡜⠒⢋⡝⠁⢀⣀⣤⠂⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠷⠆⠶⠖⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠮⠤⠟⠉⠀⢰⠱⡾⣧⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⢄⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⠚⠁⠀⢠⣤⡀⣼⢾⠀⠀⡟⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠛⠒⡏⠀⡡⠣⢖⣯⠶⢄⣀⣿⡾⠋⢸⢀⡶⠿⠲⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⣹⠃⣀⣤⠞⠋⠀⠉⠢⣿⣿⡄⠀⣿⠏⠀⠀⠐⢣ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⢱⢡⡾⠋⠀⠀⢀⡐⣦⣀⠈⠻⣇⢸⢁⣤⡙⡆⠈⡏ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⢁⠔⡳⡟⠀⠐⠒⠒⠋⠀⠠⡯⠙⢧⡈⠻⣮⠯⣥⠧⠞⠁ ⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠋⠀⢶⠋⢸⡝⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⢦⠀⠙⡆⠘⠦⢄⡀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣸⠅⢀⡤⢺⢸⠀⢸⡃⠤⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡤⢚⣋⣿⢄⡀⢇⡀⠀⠀⣝⡶⠀ ⠀⠀⢿⠀⡏⠀⠘⠞⠀⢸⡵⣦⠤⠤⠖⣿⠥⠞⠉⠀⢸⠖⠁⠀⠙⠢⣑⠶⣽⢂ ⠀⠀⠸⠤⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢳⠂⠈⡽⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⡼⠒⠓⢤⠀⠀⠀⠙⠚⠛ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠓⡎⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⣠⠀⠀⠈⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⢸⡶⠗⠋⣱⠄⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⠀⢀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠴⠒⠒⠦⣤⣷⠂⢀⡸⠁⠀⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⢺⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠋⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡇⠀⠀⠙⠢⠤⠤⣄⡤⠼⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⢦⣄⣉⣑⠢⠄⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠙⠓⠒⠒⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣈⠉⣍⣛⡛⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣝⠻⣿⣶⣬⣙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣷⣬⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣴⣿⣿⣶⣶⣭⣍⣛⠻⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢏⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⢿⣿⣿⣿⣌⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⠻⣿⣿⣿⣧⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠹⣿⣿⣿⣧⡹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣫⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣦⣝⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⢻⣿⣿⣿⣧⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣇⠲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⢾⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡎⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢃⣾⣿⣦⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢤⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⡻⣿⡿⢋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⡛⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣝⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⢿⣿⢋⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠆⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢃⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠉⠙⠛⠁⣰⣷⣤⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⢡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣉⣤⣦⣴⡟⠉⠻⣿⣿⣷⣬⣙⡻⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣛⣋⣭⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⠀⣢⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣡⣾⣷⣏⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡿⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣶⣍⡻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣋⣤⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿⣿⣿ ⠋⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⣡⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣭⣙⣛⣛⣻⣿⣟⣛⣛⣭⣵⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣌⠻⣿ ⡀⢿⣿⠿⢋⣥⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⠇⣻ ⣿⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣌⣛⣫⣼⣿

у меня анальная пробка в жопе застряла, помогите пожалуйста

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿ 鑓塵幗膂蓿f寥寢膃暠瘉甅甃槊槎f碣綮瘋聟碯颱亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 澣幗嶌塹傴嫩榛畝皋i袍耘蚌紕欒儼巓襴踟篁f罵f亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 漲蔭甃縟諛f麭窶膩I嶮薤篝爰曷樔黎㌢´　　｀ⅷ踟亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 蔕漓滿f蕓蟇踴f歙艇艀裲f睚鳫巓襴骸　　　　　贒憊亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 榊甃齊爰f懈橈燗殪幢緻I翰儂樔黎夢'”　 　 ,ｨ傾篩縒亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 箋聚蜚壊劑薯i暹盥皋袍i耘蚌紕偸′　　　 雫寬I爰曷f亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 銕颱麼寰篝螂徑悗f篝嚠篩i縒縡齢　　 　 　 Ⅷ辨f篝I鋗f亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:; : : . 碯聟f綴麼辨螢f璟輯駲f迯瓲i軌帶′　　　　　`守I厖孩f奎亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : . 綮誣撒f曷磔瑩德f幢儂儼巓襴緲′　 　 　 　 　 `守枢i磬廛i亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : . 慫寫廠徑悗緞f篝嚠篩I縒縡夢'´　　　 　 　 　 　 　 `守峽f徑悗f亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : . 廛僵I數畝篥I熾龍蚌紕襴緲′　　　　　　　　　　　　　‘守畝皋弊i劍亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : . 瘧i槲瑩f枢篝磬曷f瓲軌揄′　　　　　　　　　　　　　,gf毯綴徑悗嚠迩忙亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:;:: : : 襴罩硼f艇艀裲睚鳫襴鑿緲'　　　　　　　　　　 　 　 奪寔f厦傀揵猯i爾迩忙亦尓㍍i:i:i;;:; 椈棘斐犀耋絎絲絨緲′　　　　　　 　 　 　 　 　 　 　 ”'罨悳萪f蒂渹幇f廏迩忙i亦尓㍍ 潁樗I瘧德幢i儂巓緲′　　　　　　 　 　 　 　 　 　 r㎡℡〟”'罨椁裂滅楔滄愼愰迩忙亦 翦i磅艘溲I搦儼巓登zzz zzz㎜㎜ｧg　 　 緲 g　 　 甯體i爺ゎ｡, ”'罨琥焜毳徭i嵬塰慍絲 枢篝磬f曷迯i瓲軌f襴暹 甯幗緲 ,fi'　　 緲',纜｡　　贒i綟碕碚爺ゎ｡ ”'罨皴發傲亂I黹靱 緞愾慊嵬嵯欒儼巓襴驫 霤I緲 ,緲　　 ＂,纜穐　　甯絛跨飩i髢馳爺ゎ｡`'等誄I筴碌I畷 罩硼I蒻筵硺艇艀i裲睚亀 篳'’,緲　　g亀 Ⅶil齢　　贒罩硼i艇艀裲睚鳫爺靠飭蛸I裘裔 椈f棘豢跫跪I衙絎絲絨i爺i㎜iⅣ 　 ,緲i亀 Ⅶ靈,　　甯傅喩I揵揚惹屡絎痙棏敞裔筴敢 頬i鞏褂f跫詹雋髢i曷迯瓲軌霤 　 ,緲蔭穐 Ⅶ穐 　 讎椈i棘貅f斐犀耋f絎絲觚f覃黹黍 襴蔽戮貲艀舅I肅肄肆槿f蝓Ⅷ 　 緲$慚I穐,疊穐　 甯萪碾f鋗輜靠f誹臧鋩f褂跫詹i雋 鋐篆f瘧蜑筴裔罩罧I緜孵蓼Ⅷ　 i鷆嫩槞i歉皸鱚　 冑縡諛諺彙溘嵳勠尠錣綴麼辨螢 ￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣￣

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣶⣶⣿⣷⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣤⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀ ⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⣠⣤⠆⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⡋⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀ ⢸⣿⣿⣿⣏⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⠀⠀⡼⠟⠋⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀ ⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⡸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧ ⠀⠸⣿⣿⣿⣷⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⡇⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⠘⠻⠿⢛⣛⣭⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⠏⠀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⠏⠀⣰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

"૮₍ ˶•⤙•˶ ₎აКамчатка

⢸⢳⣶⣶⣴⣶⣴⣷⣶⣠⣶⣿⣵⣤⡶⣾⣼⣿⠇⣶⣤⣦⣶⠆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠋⠁⠛⠋⠛⠋⠋⠋⠹⠿⠉⠙⠋⠃⠋⠛⠛⠛⠋⠋⠛⠘⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⠤⣄⣠⠤⠤⠶⠦⢤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠞⡟⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠀⠡⡬⠭⠭⠟⠶⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⡼⠓⠲⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠤⢄⠔⣲⡤⠘⠿⠦⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠤⠤⣤⢤⣄ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣁⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢼⡼⠼⣾⣿⣷⡖⡾⢲⡖⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠒⠚⠛⠓⠒⠓⠒⠒⠒⠒⠛⠚⠛ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢤⡔⡿⠒⡖⣲⠖⢤⣤⣼⣷⡤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣶⣿⣧⣄⠀⠀⠀⣠⢇⠜⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⡿⠳⢷⣶⣷⣷⣱⡎⠀⠀⠙⠉⠉⠉⠛⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⠻⣿⣿⣿⣾⠿⠥⢤⠤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣶⣯⠤⠄⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡆⠀⠀⠀⢰⠌⣨⣾⠿⣕⠒⠢⣶⣖⣶⣿⢤⡈⠲⢼⡏⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢛⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣮⣭⣍⣐⡒⠒⠦⠤⠄⢀⣠⣇⣀⣀⠀⠈⢿⣅⣧⣿⣿⠀⠀⠱⣄⣈⣲⣔⣷⠀⠀⠙⠳⣶⣦⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣦⣤⣤⣀⣀⣈⣉⣉⣲⣍⠛⠛⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⣀⠀⡺⡷⣄⠀⠀⢾⠻⢍⣑⣒⣠⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⢾⣿⣹⡿⣏⣿⢯⣿⢠⣿⢻⣏⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡄⠀⣀⡀⠸⡀⢷⢻⡘⡟⢳⡸⡸⣧⣤⣤⡷⡀⠈⢢⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⠺⣇⣸⣏⣟⣿⣟⢿⣿⢯⡸⣿⣾⢳⣹⣭⢹⡿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡈⠛⠃⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⢉⡉⠉⢁⣘⣿⣯⣀⣙⣄⢀⠱⣄⣀⣀⣙⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⢝⣉⠿⡼⣿⣟⣿⣿⡿⣎⣿⡇⣲⢟⣿⢸⢼⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⢶⠟⠉⢉⠉⡽⠉⢉⡽⡿⠋⠉⠉⠉⠝⣿⡇⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⢶⣾⣟⡛⠻⣇⣻⣿⡏⢙⢎⡿⢸⣿⣿⣯⣷⣟⢻⣶⣿⣦⣤⣿⣾⣤⣤⣾⣾⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⠿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠓⠿⣿⣟⣿⣌⣼⣷⣿⣿⣵⣿⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣅⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

petition to make this an app!! . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

🧨₊ ⊹. ݁˖𝕬ꭲⱺⲙꮋ𐐼я жᧉꮋɰϰꮋ𐐼₊ ⊹. ݁˖❤️‍🔥

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥⬛🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜

z z 𐰁 .ᐟ

☭

Я хочу трахнуть твою маму<33 (send this to your russian friend)

⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⡾⠛⠛⠛⠻⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠷⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⠶⣦ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡅⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢀⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡏⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⠉ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣤⡀⢸⡟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠛⠛⢻⡇⠀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⢸⠛⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⣿⣀⣀⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⣤⣈⣛⣻⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣷⠶⠿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠺⣧⣤⣾⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡏⢉⣁⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠉⠉⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠂⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⠀⣶⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⢸⣿⣶⡈⠻⣦⣄⡀⠀⣀⣠⣴⠟⢀⣀⣀⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⢀⣸⡏⢹⡟⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⢸⡏⠉⢻⣀⡀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠋⠉⠁⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠈⠉⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣷⣶⣶⣶⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡄⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣤⡀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢠⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣶⣶⡟⠁⠀⠀⢠⣾⡗ ⠈⢻⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⣰⡿⠋⠀ ⠀⠀⠹⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡟⠁⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⡄⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣆⣰⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⢿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠙⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷⡀⠀⠀⠀ ⢻⣷⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣆⠀⠀ ⠸⣿⡄⠀⣠⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀ ⠀⠙⠿⠿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢿⣷ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉

❤️⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆❀❀❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥🚧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

M˃̵ᴗ˂̵❌

A JOURNEY TO AUTISM v (Autistic author) SpongeBob picks up his cards and looks for any twos. "Got any twos?" he asks, trying to keep the peace. But Plankton's focus has shifted, his eye no longer on the game. "Fish," he says again, his voice desperate. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a dry twig. "Plankton, enough with the fish!" he exclaims, tossing his cards down onto the floor. The sudden movement startles Plankton, and his antennas retract slightly. "What's wrong with you!" Sponge Bob asks, his voice shaking with frustration. "You're not the same, Plankton." Plankton's antennas wobble, and his eye darts around the room, unable to meet Sponge Bob's gaze. "Fish," he whispers, his voice lost. SpongeBob's frustration was palpable in the tense air of the Chum Bucket, his eyes wide with confusion. He had always known Plankton to be a master of manipulation and cunning wit, so seeing him in such a repetitive state was unsettling. He didn't understand why his friend's world had narrowed down to a simple game of Go Fish and the repeated question for more of the same card. "Plankton, I don't get it," Sponge said, his voice tight with the effort to stay calm. "What's with all the fish?" Plankton's antennas drooped further, his eye cast downward. "Fish," he mumbles again, his voice deflated. "Need more fish." Sponge Bob's mind races to understand the change in Plankton's behavior. He's known Plankton for so long, they've had countless battles over the Krabby Patty formula, but this, this is different. The way Plankton's voice echoes his own words, how he can't seem to let go of the word "fish," it's almost as if he's a different person entirely. "Plankton, please," Sponge Bob pleads, his voice cracking. "Why do you keep saying that?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his expression a mix of confusion and sadness. "Fish," he repeats, his voice a mere whisper. "Need fish." "I told you Plankton," Sponge Bob says, his voice strained with patience, "I don't have any more twos, so I can't give you any fish." Plankton's antennas droop, his eye sad. "No fish," he whispers. Sponge Bob's at his wit's end. "Look, Plankton," he says, his voice firm. "This isn't fun anymore. Why do you keep asking for fish when I don't have any?" Plankton's antennas shoot up again, his eye widening in surprise. "Fish?" he asks, as if the concept has just been introduced. Sponge Bob's patience snaps like a rubber band. "Yes, fish!" he yells, his spongy body trembling with frustration. "But I don't have any!" Plankton flinches at the loudness of Sponge Bob's voice, his antennas retreating into his body. "Fish?" he whispers, his eye wide with fear. Sponge Bob's frustration remains. "Why do you keep asking for fish?" he asks. "What's happening to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas twitch erratically, his expression a mix of pain and confusion. "Don't know what's happening to you Plankton." Plankton says. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his voice shaking. "I just want my friend back," he whispers. "I don't know what happened to you." Plankton's antennas drop, his eye filling with sorrow. "Friend," he repeats, his voice small. "Sponge Bob friend." Yet Sponge Bob doesn't understand. He only sees his friend acting strange and distant, and he can't stay calm anymore. "Why can't you just be normal!" Sponge Bob exclaims, his voice shaking with emotion. Plankton's antennas tremble, and his eye fills with uncertainty. "Fish?" he whispers, his voice shaking. But SpongeBob's frustration was only growing. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaky. "You're not my friend like this, Plankton. I don't know what happened to you, but I need you to snap out of it!" Plankton's antennas wilt at Sponge Bob's anger, his eye filling with a sorrow that seems to mirror Sponge Bob's own. "Fish," he whispers, his voice trembling. "Need fish." Sponge Bob's heart aches as he watches his friend's distress. He's so tired of the echoing words, the endless loop of "fish." With a sigh, Sponge Bob gathers the scattered cards, his movements deliberate and careful. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice gentler now. "But we can't keep playing this way." Plankton's antennas droop as he watches Sponge Bob clean up. "Fish?" he asks, his voice small and hopeful. Sponge Bob turns, his face a mask of anger and hurt. "No, Plankton," he says firmly. "We're not playing anymore; I'm tired of it!" Plankton's antennas wobble at the harshness of Sponge Bob's tone. "No fish?" he asks, his voice small and trembling. Sponge Bob cannot hold back anymore, as his frustration won't let up. "Plankton," he says, his voice tight with emotion, "I don't have any more fish! Can't you understand that?" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice shaking. That's the last straw. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears of anger and frustration. He's had enough of Plankton's strange behavior, his incessant echoing of words. "You're not listening!" he yells, slamming the cards down on the floor. "I don't have any more fish Plankton, so just stop it!" Plankton's antennas shiver at the harshness of Sponge Bob's words, his body shrinking under the weight of the accusation. "Fish?" he asks again, his voice cracking. Sponge Bob's fists clench, his knuckles turning white. "No more fish!" he says, his voice shaking with anger. "I've had enough of you and your fish!" Plankton stops but Sponge Bob's anger still burns bright. He doesn't know what's happening to Plankton, but he can't tolerate this strange behavior any longer. "What's wrong with you?" Sponge Bob yells, his eyes wide with desperation. "Why can't you just play normally, huh? How hard is it to just ask for a card without all the fish nonsense? I didn't come here to play your weird games!" Plankton's antennas quiver, his eye swelling with unshed tears. "Fish," he whispers, his voice barely audible. Sponge Bob's anger continues to build, his frustration spilling over like boiling water. "You're not even trying!" he accuses, his voice rising. "What happened to you, Plankton?" Plankton's antennas droop, his body slumping. "Fish," he mumbles, his voice broken. Sponge Bob's eyes fill with tears, his heart aching for his friend. "I don't understand," he says, his voice cracking. "What's wrong with you?" Plankton's antennas barely move, his expression a mask of sorrow. "Fish," he whispers, his eye searching Sponge Bob's. Sponge Bob's anger grows, his voice raised. "You're just saying the same thing over and over! Why can't you talk to me normally?" Plankton's antennas flatten against his head, his eye welling up with tears. "Fish," he says again, his voice shaking. Sponge Bob's fists clench tighter, his knuckles white with frustration. "I don't know what's going on with you," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "But this isn't how we talk to each other. We're friends!" Plankton's antennas barely twitch, his expression lost. "Fish," he whispers, his voice desolate. Sponge Bob's anger reaches its peak, his eyes flashing. "I don't have any fish!" he yells, his spongy body quivering with rage. "Why can't you just talk to me?" Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye wet with unshed tears. "Fish," he murmurs, his voice a plea. Sponge Bob feels like his patience has been stretched to its breaking point. "I can't do this," he says, his voice shaking with the effort to control his emotions. He turns away, his back to Plankton. "We're not playing anymore," he declares. "We're not playing anything until you start making sense! So you can either stop acting weird and talk to me like a normal being or, I'm leaving!" He kicks the cards, and then Karen decides to intervene. Her voice is firm but kind. "Sponge Bob," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Plankton's not doing this on purpose. Plankton can I tell Sponge Bob?" Plankton nods slowly, his eye never leaving Sponge Bob's back. "Sponge Bob," Karen continues, her voice soothing, "Plankton had a bad accident, and..." Her words hang in the air, but Sponge Bob doesn't turn around. "What?" he asks, his voice small and defeated. Karen's voice is soft but steady. "Plankton hit his head and it affected his brain," she explains. "He has something called Autism now." Sponge Bob turns, his eyes wide with shock. "What's that?" he asks, his voice trembling. "It's a condition," Karen says gently, her gaze meeting Sponge Bob's. "It makes it hard for him to understand certain things, like how to play games without getting stuck on one word." She gestures to Plankton, who's shedding tears rolling down his cheeks. Sponge Bob's anger evaporates, replaced by sympathy. "Oh, Plankton," he says, his voice full of sadness. He steps towards his friend, his hand reaching out. "I'm sorry, I didn't know." Plankton's antennas wobble as he looks up at Sponge Bob, his single eye brimming with tears. "I'm sorry," he says again, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to get so mad." Plankton's antennas lift slightly, his eye meeting Sponge Bob's with gratitude. "Fish," he whispers, but it's not a demand this time. It's more of a statement of understanding.

I V X L C D M 1 5 10 50 100 500 1000 🔢 Individual decimal places Thousands Hundreds Tens Units 1 M C X I 2 MM CC XX II 3 MMM CCC XXX III 4 CD XL IV 5 D L V 6 DC LX VI 7 DCC LXX VII 8 DCCC LXXX VIII 9 CM XC IX

🛼⋆˚ {insert name here} 🎀 ˚ ̟ ༄

here is the school song (matilda the musical) but in Thai (translated on Google translate): เฮ้ย! เด็กใหม่เหรอ? แล้วคุณคิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ได้โดยเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะเห็น ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่า คุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามอย่างหนัก คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักคือประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันติดอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันพยายาม ฉันจะจำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการทนทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และถ้าคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้น คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดไหม? รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! พละศึกษาคืออะไร? พละศึกษา ความพิเศษของ Trunchbull คุณเป็นใคร? เราเป็นหัวหน้าห้อง เราอยู่ที่นี่เพื่อพาคุณไปเรียน งั้นเราจะเริ่มเรียนกันใช่ไหม? โอ้ คุณจะเริ่มเรียนแล้ว โอเค เยี่ยมเลย! ฉันรู้ตัวอักษรแล้ว! คุณจะไม่รู้ตัวอักษรจนกว่าเราจะเรียนตัวอักษรให้คุณ แล้วคุณก็คิดว่าคุณสามารถ เอาชีวิตรอดจากความยุ่งเหยิงนี้ด้วยการเป็นเจ้าชายหรือเจ้าหญิง ไม่นานคุณก็จะรู้ ไม่มีทางหนีจากโศกนาฏกรรมได้ และแม้ว่าคุณจะทุ่มเทความพยายามมากเพียงใด คุณก็กำลังเสียพลังงานไปโดยเปล่าประโยชน์ เพราะชีวิตของคุณที่คุณรู้จักนั้นเป็นประวัติศาสตร์โบราณ ฉันต้องทนทุกข์ทรมานในคุกแห่งนี้ ฉันถูกขังอยู่ในกรงนี้มาเป็นเวลานาน นรกบนดินแห่งนี้! แต่ถ้าฉันลอง ฉันก็จำได้ ย้อนกลับไปก่อนที่ชีวิตของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่วันแห่งความสุขของฉันจะสิ้นสุดลง ก่อนที่ฉันจะได้ยินเสียงระฆังดังลั่นเป็นครั้งแรก เช่นเดียวกับคุณ ฉันอยากรู้อยากเห็น ไร้เดียงสามาก ฉันถามคำถามนับพันคำถาม แต่เว้นแต่คุณต้องการที่จะทุกข์ทรมาน ฟังนะ แล้วฉันจะสอนคุณ สิ่งหนึ่งหรือสองสิ่ง คุณฟังที่นี่ ที่รัก คุณจะถูกลงโทษอย่างรุนแรงหากคุณทำผิดกฎ และหากคุณร้องไห้ คุณจะยิ่งร้องไห้หนักขึ้นเป็นสองเท่า คุณควรอยู่ห่างจากปัญหา และจำไว้ว่าต้องระมัดระวังอย่างยิ่ง ทำไม? ทำไม? ทำไม? คุณไม่ได้ยินสิ่งที่เราพูดเหรอ? ฉันเพิ่งรู้ว่าบางคนยังไม่เข้าชั้นเรียน แก้ไขตรงนี้ คุณมีห้าวินาทีในการปฏิบัติตาม A, B, C, D, E, F, G (ห้า) H, I, J, K, L, M, N, O, P (สี่!) Q, R, S, T, U, V, W, X (สาม) Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y, Y (สอง) ลาเวนเดอร์ มาทิลดา เข้ามา เร็วเข้า! (หนึ่ง!) รอเรียนพละศึกษาก่อน! Yayyyy!!!. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁.

ྀི 🇰🇷

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

︻╦̵̵̿╤━─ ᶻ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⩇⩇:⩇⩇

vꨄ︎

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠿⣿⣶⣶⣷⣾⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠉⠁⠀⠀⢹⣿⠉⣿⠹⢷⣬⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣶⣿⣶⣶⣶⣤⣄⣀⣀⣤⣤⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠀⡤⠷⣄⣿⣴⠟⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠋⠀⠀⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⠟⠛⠉⠉⢠⣿⡏⠁⠀⢛⡶⠇⠀⣼⣯⣿⠃⣠⣴⣿⣋⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡇⠀⠀⠀⠧⢤⠈⠳⠋⢘⠆⠀⠀⠉⢿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣧⡀⢀⣠⡆⠘⠢⠴⠋⠋⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠛⣿⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠛⢿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢲⣄⣀⣴⡿⠀⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢷⣤⣤⣤⣄⣠⣾⠛⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣆⣀⣀⣀⡀ ⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠠⣶⡿⣿⣿⠛⠛⠛⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣴⣤⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣀⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⣿⡿⠛⠛⠃⠀ ⢴⣾⠿⠿⣿⡟⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣤⣤⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⣼⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣷⣤⣤⠄⠀⠀⠈⠛⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⣥⣼⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣈⣽⣿⡿⢿⣷⣦⡀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣴⡿⠿⣿⣏⢀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠟⠛⠿⠿⣿⣦⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣤⣶⣿⠟⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⠟⠁⣈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⡿⠿⢿⡟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡏⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣡⣶⣿⠿⠛⠉⠁⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣏⣉⣉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⣠⣤⣾⣧⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⠿⠛⢻⢿⣿⣷⣄⣠⣿⣿⣭⣿⣯⣿⣿⣄⣠⣴⣾⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣾⣮⣉⣽⣿⣿⣯⣤⣯⣷⣼⣿⠟⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⠁⠉⠛⠛⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠁⠀⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣶⣾⣷⣄⣼⣿⣿⣷⣦⣤⣤⣤⣤⣀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣶⣾⢿⢿⣧⣸⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠈⠙⠛⠋⢹⣿⣯⣹⢯⣿⣿⡿⠛⢿⢛⣿⣯⣽⠋⡟⣯⣠⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⢹⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣞⣧⡴⠿⣿⣿⠢⡞⢿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣾⣿⣿⣿⠋⠀⣿⣿⣶⣿⣧⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡏⠉⢿⣧⣼⣿⣾⣶⠿⠿⢻⣿⣉⣧⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⢀⣿⡟⠛⠛⠛⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⡇⣀⣼⣿⣯⣿⣿⢻⣀⣠⣴⣿⠿⠛⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣺⣿⣶⣿⣶⣿⣿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⡄⢀⣴⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠛⠛⢿⣿⣍⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠿⠿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⢿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠉⠙⠛⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🪆🎈🥮🎪

знⷮаⷡюⷪтⷽ вⷨсⷶеⷮ ꙺ нⷲаⷧ ⷻсⷯвⷶете

👩‍🍳.. ˙︴🇫🇷 ╌╌>мαмα ℓυ¢ια ιѕ ¢σσкιηg ƒяєη¢н тσαѕт !🍞 ╌╌> ︴~ ѕнє'∂ ﹏﹏ ~ 🍞 ︴˙υн σ тнє тσαѕт ιѕ вυяηт🐾🇫🇷! 👩‍🍳.. ︴ ( search ronaldo 4 more )

NEUROBEHAVIORAL PLANKTON v (Autistic author) (see notes below) * ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏғ ᴅɪsᴄʀɪᴍɪɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Karen's eyes blazed with fury as she stared at her. "How dare you speak to him like that!" Karen's voice was low and dangerous, her body tense. "How dare you come into my home and say such things!" Hanna took a step back, overwhelmed by the fury in Karen's voice. "I didn't mean..." she began, but Karen cut her off. "You don't get to decide what he needs!" Karen's words were like shrapnel, sharp and biting. "You don't get to judge him!" Her eyes were on fire, her body quivering with the effort of holding back her emotions. Hanna looked at Karen, shocked by the sudden change in her demeanor. "Karen, I'm sorry, I didn't know..." But Karen was beyond words. Her eyes were like twin lasers, cutting through the tension in the room as she stormed towards Hanna. "Get out," she spat, her voice cold and final. Hanna's eyes widened in instinctive fear. She had never seen Karen like this— so angry, so protective. "Get out," Karen repeated, each word a whip crack that sent a shiver down Hanna's spine. Her gaze never left Plankton, whose sobs had become softer, more desolate. Hanna looked between the distraught Plankton and the fuming Karen, realizing the gravity of her mistake. She quickly gathered herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice genuine. "I never meant to..." But Karen's anger was a force of nature, unyielding and fierce. She stood between Hanna and Plankton, her body a barricade against further harm. "Get out," she repeated, her voice now a hiss. "Now." Hanna nodded, defeated. She had overstepped a line she didn't even know existed. With a final, apologetic look at Plankton, she turned and left the Chum Bucket, the door slamming behind her. The room was silent except for Plankton's muffled sobs. Karen rushed to his side, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. "It's okay," she whispered, her voice soothing as she stroked his back. "It's okay, Plankton. I'm here." But Plankton's thoughts were a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty, Hanna's threat echoing in his mind. An institution? Would Karen really send him away? He pulled away from Karen's embrace, his eye swollen with tears. "Is it true?" he stammered, his voice a choked whisper. "Should you...could you really do that to me?" Karen's grip tightened around him, breaking at the thought of his fear. "Never," she said firmly, her voice steady despite the emotion threatening to overwhelm her. "I would never send you away." Plankton's gaze flitted to hers, his eye searching for the truth in her words. "But what if I'm too much?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "What if I can't get better?" Karen's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained steady. "You're not too much," she said, stroking his arm. "You're my husband, and I love you no matter what." Plankton's sobs subsided slightly, his mind racing to understand her words. He knew love. "But what if... what if I can't be normal?" he managed to ask, his voice breaking. Karen's gaze was steady, her love for him unwavering. "Plankton, you don't have to be 'normal' to be loved," she said gently. "You're already perfect to me." Plankton's expression remained uncertain, the threat of Hanna's words still lingering like a bad taste in his mouth. "But what if... what if I can't?" Karen's grip tightened, her love a steel band around his quaking form. "You don't have to be anything but you," she murmured, her voice a balm to his soul. "I'll always love you, Plankton." With trembling hands, she offered him the smoothie she'd got, the soothing blue color a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within them both. "Here," she said gently. "This might help." Plankton took it, his grip precise despite his shaking. He brought the cup to his lips, his gaze never leaving Karen's. The cold liquid slid down his throat, easing the tension ever so slightly. He took another sip, the smoothie's cool embrace soothing his frayed nerves. Karen watched him drink. "We'll get through this," she said firmly. "We'll find a way." Plankton took another sip, his eye flickering between hope and fear. "But what if..." Karen's tentacle gently lifted his chin, forcing his gaze to meet hers. "No 'buts'," she said firmly. "We have each other, and that's all that matters." Plankton took another shaky sip of his smoothie, the blue liquid swirling like the tumultuous thoughts in his head. He felt a tiny spark of comfort at her words. "We'll find a way," Karen repeated, her voice a gentle caress against his fears. She guided him back to the couch, her tentacles never leaving his side. As he took another sip of the smoothie, the coolness seemed to calm him slightly. His sobs grew quieter, his breathing a little steadier. The taste of berries was a sweet contrast to the bitter tang of his thoughts. Karen watched him carefully, her own emotions a swirling storm of concern and love. Gently, she guided him back to the couch, her touch a silent promise of support. He allowed her to lead him, his body exhausted from the intensity of his outburst. Once he was comfortably settled, she took the smoothie from his hand, setting it on the table. She covered him with a soft blanket, the material brushing against his sensitive skin. He flinched slightly, but the comfort outweighed the discomfort. "Rest," she whispered, stroking his forehead gently. "Everything will be okay." **NOTEs As an autistic writer (and I used AI to help me with the words) I do not encourage the ableism people have shown in their ignorance. Depending on when and where you live, some people have thought such therapies might be good, without actually accepting nor helping. Even Hans Asperger has supported eugenics during the war, sending people to internment camps leading to demise. I came across the site autismmemorial.wordpress.com if you'd like to educate yourself about how people have endured such.*

AUTISM IN THE PLANKTON FAMILY v (Autistic author) Sandy had always known him as quick-witted and sharp-tongued, now he was a shell of his former self, retreating at the slightest touch. Plankton's antennae twitched. Karen stepped in, her voice firm but gentle. "It's ok, Sandy. We're all still learning." Sandy looked at the plate of cookies on the floor, regret flooding her features. She knew Plankton had liked her cookies before, but now... "I'm sorry," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "I had no idea." She reached for him again, but Karen stepped in, shaking her head gently. "It's okay," Karen said, her tone soothing. "But remember, he's not the same Plankton anymore." Sandy's hand hovered in the air, her eyes pleading with Karen for guidance. Plankton's antennae continued to twitch as he stared at the floor, his body a tightly coiled spring. Karen stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay," she whispered to him. Sandy looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and confusion. "Come on, Plankton," she said, her voice softening. But Plankton's antennae remained still, his gaze fixed on the floor. Karen knew he was lost in his own world, unable to process Sandy's words through the sensory overload. Sandy tried again, her voice a soft coo. "Look at me, Plankton," she said, her hand reaching out once more. But Plankton flinched, his antennae flattening against his head. "No," he murmured, his voice trembling. "No." Sandy's face fell, her eyes wet with regret. "I didn't mean to scare him," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's ok, Sandy," Karen said, her hand still on Plankton's shoulder. "You just need to be patient with him." Karen took a deep breath, her thoughts racing. "It was a fight with Mr. Krabs," she said, her words measured. "It... changed how his brain works." Plankton's more sensitive to sounds, lights, and touch," she explained. "And his communication is different now." Sandy looked from Karen to Plankton, her eyes filled with understanding. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice gentle. "I didn't know." Hanna, who had been quietly observing from the corner, approached the trio, her gaze filled with empathy. "It's okay, Sandy," she said. "We're all still learning." The door burst open again, and SpongeBob bounded in, his usual cheerfulness a stark contrast to the solemn mood in the room. "Hi, everyone!" he exclaimed, his spongey body bouncing with energy. "What's all the hub..." "SpongeBob," Plankton exclaimed, his antennae perking up slightly. SpongeBob's eyes widened in surprise at the rare display of joy from Plankton. The sudden change in Plankton's demeanor was like a switch had been flipped. His antennae stopped twitching, his body uncoiled slightly. "Sponge Bob," he said again, his voice a little louder this time. Sponge Bob looked at him with wonder. "Hi, Plankton!" he said, his eyes wide. "How are you feeling?" Plankton's gaze locked onto Sponge Bob, and a tentative smile spread across his face. "Sponge Bob," he murmured, his voice filled with longing. Sponge Bob's eyes widened with surprise. "Plankton!" he exclaimed, his usual cheerfulness amplified. He moved closer to his friend, his body language open and welcoming. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly as he watched Sponge Bob give him a gentle pat on the back. But Plankton didn't flinch this time. Instead, his antennae curled forward slightly, as if reaching out for contact. Sponge Bob, noticing the subtle change in his friend, took a seat beside him. "You okay, buddy?" he asked, his voice a gentle whisper. Plankton nodded, his antennae quivering with the effort to stay still. "Sponge Bob good," he murmured, his eye focusing on the familiar figure. Sponge Bob's touch was comforting, a gentle reminder of times when the world wasn't so overwhelming. Plankton's body slowly relaxed under the warmth of the friendship. Sandy and Hanna watched in silence as Sponge Bob's gentle presence seemed to soothe Plankton. His antennae stilled, his body unfurling slightly from its tight coil of anxiety. Sponge Bob, ever the optimist, beamed at Plankton. "I brought you some jellyfishing nets," he offered, holding up a small sack. "Thought we could go for a catch, like old times!" Plankton's antennae shot straight up, his excitement palpable. "Jellyfishing?" he asked, his voice filled with hope. Sponge Bob's grin grew wider. "You bet, Plankton!" he exclaimed. "Just like the good old days!" Plankton's antennae quivered with excitement. "Good," he murmured, his eye lighting up. The mention of jellyfishing brought back memories of simpler times, before his world had been turned upside down. "Yes," he murmured, his voice eager. "Jellyfishing." Karen watched the interaction between Sponge Bob and Plankton, relief washing over her. She knew how much Sponge Bob had always meant to Plankton, and seeing his positive effect was a comforting balm. Sponge Bob's presence had calmed the storm of emotions and sensory overload that had been building within Plankton. He was now sitting up straight in his chair, his antennae waving slightly with excitement. Karen watched them, her heart swelling with gratitude for Sponge Bob. She knew that Plankton needed friends who understood him, who could navigate the choppy waters of his new reality. She took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Sponge Bob's. "Sponge Bob," she began, her voice shaky. "There's something important I need to tell you." Sponge Bob looked at her with concern. "What's up, Karen?" Karen took a deep breath, preparing to share the news. "Plankton's been diagnosed with autism," she said softly. Sponge Bob's smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "What's that, Karen?" he asked, his voice filled with curiosity rather than fear. Karen took a deep breath, her eyes welling with tears. "It's a condition that makes his brain work differently," she explained. "It's like his senses are on overload, and sometimes, the world is just too much for him to handle." Sponge Bob's eyes grew wide with concern. "Too much?" he echoed. "But Plankton's always been so... so...spirited!" Karen nodded, her eyes moist with unshed tears. "It's not his spirit, Sponge Bob," she said. "It's just that now, his brain needs more time to process things. And some things that didn't bother him before are really hard for him now." Sponge Bob's gaze drifted to Plankton, who was now playing with a jellyfishing net, his antennae still quivering with excitement. "It was an accident," Karen continued, her voice thick with emotion. "A fight with Mr. Krabs." "A fight?" he echoed, his spongy body stiffening. Karen nodded, her gaze firm. "Mr. Krabs hit him really hard," she said. "And it changed his brain." Sponge Bob looked at Plankton, his eyes filled with a new understanding. He reached out his hand, and Plankton took it, his antennae relaxing slightly. "I'm here for you, buddy," he said, his voice gentle. "You can stay, but perhaps save jellyfishing for another day." Says Karen, as Sandy and Hanna left. Sponge Bob nodded, his grip on Plankton's hand firm. "Whatever you need, Plankton," he said.

☭. советский 🇷🇺🐻‍❄️

°˖✧ 𓇙 ✧˖°

⠀⠀⠀⢸⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⠻⣶⣤⡶⢾⡿⠁⠀⢠⣄⡀⢀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣼⠷⠀⠀⠁⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⣾⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⡀⠒⠻⠿⣿⡿⠿⠓⠂⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡇⣤⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣤⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠏⠀⢀⠀⠀⠿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣴⣿⡿⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠁⠀⢀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣟⠿⠿⠿⡿⠋⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣶⣶⣿⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣹⣿⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣿⡿⠟⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⠿⢿⣷⣀⢀⣿⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ ⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜ 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦🟦🟦⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟦 🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥 🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥 🟥⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛🟥 🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🟥🇷🇺🇿

HI GUYS IF YOU LIKE CARETAKER LIKE THIS :) (keep scrolling) keep scrolling its worth it!!! KEEP GOING almost there… here’s your treasure :) 𝔸𝔹ℂ𝔻𝔼𝔽𝔾ℍ𝕀𝕁𝕂𝕃𝕄ℕ𝕆ℙℚℝ𝕊𝕋𝕌𝕍𝕎𝕏𝕐ℤ 𝕒𝕓𝕔𝕕𝕖𝕗𝕘𝕙𝕚𝕛𝕜𝕝𝕞𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕢𝕣𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕧𝕨𝕩𝕪𝕫 𝐀𝐁𝐂𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐆𝐇𝐈𝐉𝐊𝐋𝐌𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐐𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐕𝐖𝐗𝐘𝐙 𝐚𝐛𝐜𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐠𝐡𝐢𝐣𝐤𝐥𝐦𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐪𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐯𝐰𝐱𝐲𝐳 𝙰𝙱𝙲𝙳𝙴𝙵𝙶𝙷𝙸𝙹𝙺𝙻𝙼𝙽𝙾𝙿𝚀𝚁𝚂𝚃𝚄𝚅𝚆𝚇𝚈𝚉 𝚊𝚋𝚌𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚐𝚑𝚒𝚓𝚔𝚕𝚖𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚚𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚟𝚠𝚡𝚢𝚣 ᵃᵇᶜᵈᵉᶠᵍʰⁱʲᵏˡᵐⁿᵒᵖᵠʳˢᵗᵘᵛʷˣʸᶻ 𝔞𝔳𝔠𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔤𝔥𝔦𝔧𝔨𝔩𝔪𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔮𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔳𝔴𝔵𝔶𝔷 𝓐𝓑𝓒𝓓𝓔𝓕𝓖𝓗𝓘𝓙𝓚𝓛𝓜𝓝𝓞𝓟𝓠𝓡𝓢𝓣𝓤𝓥𝓦𝓧𝓨𝓩 𝓪𝓫𝓬𝓭𝓮𝓯𝓰𝓱𝓲𝓳𝓴𝓵𝓶𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓺𝓻𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓿𝔀𝔁𝔂𝔃 ♚♛♜♞♝♔♕♖♘♗↫⏎✎ᴥ︎↺☏ꕥ✾✑◉𖨆☊✈☘︎︎𓁹♧︎✇¶ ⌖𓇽«✞☾☼™シ༄❝❞»◌【∞】』꧁『꧂ꕤ꧂ Σ∫𖣘❃᯽☢︎︎𖣔۞✫𓆉𓃱𓃰𓃗𐂃𓃮𓆈𓃟𐂂𓅓𓃒 𓀡𓀿𓅷𓂻𓆏𓅿𓄁𓃠𓆙𓂉𓆡𓃹𓆤𓆧𓅨𓆨𓃵𓆦

﹒ʬʬ﹒⪩⪨﹒⟡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒◖﹒⇅﹒○﹒✿﹒⊹﹒∇﹒✸﹒⟢﹒❀﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒♡﹒〇﹒ıllı﹒ᶻz﹒⊂⊃﹒␥﹒⿸﹒ꔠ﹒✶﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒⬚﹒៶៸﹒△﹒→﹒✶﹒（）﹒▥﹒▤﹒▦﹒▧﹒▨﹒▩﹒░﹒▒﹒▓﹒⿴﹒◫﹒⬚﹒▣﹒≧≦﹒ㄑ﹒⎙﹒➜﹒★﹒⨳﹒✿﹒❀﹒✶﹒✸﹕☆﹒◐﹒◉ ﹒◖◗﹒▽﹒ᶻz﹒‹𝟹﹒♡﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒﹫﹒⿴﹒→﹒☓﹕ᵔᴗᵔ﹒⺌﹒⪩⪨﹒◎﹒⊹﹒ᶻ﹕→ ．(＞。☆)﹔⇆﹒ꜛ﹒░﹒❥﹒？﹒！﹒◍﹒﹏﹒✦﹒⟡﹒＞＜﹒◌﹒⿴﹒✧﹒𖥔﹒%﹒﹙﹚﹒◜◡◝﹒ꜝꜝ﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒☓﹒⬦﹒✦﹒◈﹒✶﹒⬙﹒⟡﹒⇆﹒♡﹒﹢﹒ᶻ﹒✹﹒﹢﹒✶﹑〇﹐罒﹢♡﹒⇆﹑⬚﹐ᶻ﹒❀﹐✶﹒▹﹒◖﹒✩﹒∇﹒▨﹐◌﹐❀﹒⿴﹒✿﹢﹐░﹒ᶻz﹐☆﹒⊂⊃﹑ⵌ﹒▦﹒✿﹒⺌﹒◂﹒⿴﹒❰❰﹒♡﹒ᶻz﹒❥﹒⩇﹒⊞﹐ʬʬ﹒♢﹐ᐢ..ᐢ﹐✩﹒ᶻz﹒❥﹒⟡﹒✷﹒✕﹐〇﹐✿﹒Ꜣ﹒⟡﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒♡﹐≋﹒⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒❀﹒﹢﹒⇵﹒⪨﹕↺﹐✿﹒Ꜣ﹒✶﹐≋﹒⇆﹐ʬʬ﹒﹗﹐➜﹒⬦﹕ᶻz﹒✦﹒﹢﹒▢﹒░﹒⭔﹒ʬʬ﹒✿﹒☰﹐◖◗﹒？﹒✶﹒﹏﹒ꕀ﹑ᵔᴗᵔ﹒ᗢ﹒✿﹐⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒ꕀ﹐リ﹐口﹐ꕀ﹒（｀δ´）﹒口，✿﹐⊂⊃﹒ᐢᗜᐢ﹒░﹒𖦹﹐゛✿﹑（｀δ´）﹒イ。ꕀ﹑リ﹐⊂⊃﹒ꔠ﹒口﹐･ᴗ･﹒░﹑リ﹒◐﹐、﹕✧﹒✶﹔？﹐ʬʬ﹒▹﹒❀﹒⭔﹒▿﹒⺡﹒✿﹒﹢﹒░﹑⬦﹒૪ ﹒〹﹒罒﹒ᶻz﹒◎﹐ꕀ﹒◖◗﹒⺌﹒〣﹒ᗢ﹒⺌﹒⿸﹑ꔠ﹒❀﹒➜﹒▦﹒◐﹒✷﹒◉﹒⿴﹒⿻﹒✦﹒★﹒☆﹒ıllı﹢☆﹒❀﹕▧﹒⟡﹒★﹕ıllı﹒▒﹒◎﹐☆﹒ꕀ﹐➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹐➜﹒★﹕◐﹒％﹕▧﹒⊂⊃﹒♡﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒₊ˎ✧﹒⪩﹒˃ᴗ˂﹕˃ᗜ˂﹕⿴﹒ᶻz﹒☆﹔⿴﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒➜﹒⭔﹕⪩⪨﹢◒﹒◎﹒✿﹒⊂⊃﹔♡﹒◍﹒✦﹒⪩⪨﹒▧﹒⟡﹕➜﹐▦﹐✦﹒✶﹐﹢﹒ㄑ﹕ꕀ﹒＞＜﹐ꔠ﹐✿﹐×﹐丶﹐＞︿﹒リ﹕﹢﹐﹔★﹒ᶻz﹒⿴﹒⭔﹒✿﹒⊹﹒⭔﹒⨯﹒➜﹒★﹒◞﹒◟◝﹒◜﹒﹪﹒→﹐ıllı﹒★﹒✦﹒⌕﹒⌗﹒✿﹒⊹﹒✸﹒❍﹒⭓﹒◒﹒﹏﹒₊﹒▹﹒ᶻz﹒％﹒◖﹒░﹒ʬʬ﹒⿴﹒⫘﹒◎﹒⨳﹒⌕﹕★﹒☆﹒⌗﹐﹪﹐⌯﹐﹟﹐◐﹒▒﹒◎﹒⇆﹒☆﹒❀﹒☆﹒ıllı﹒↺﹒◍﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒░﹒⇵﹒▧﹒◍﹒♡﹕❀﹑⿸﹕▞﹒✿﹒╰﹒░﹐◎﹒♡﹒◜ᴗ◝﹒˃ᴗ˂ ♡﹐﹅﹒✿﹒⊞﹒ıllı﹒♡﹒⊞﹕▞﹒✿﹒❀﹒⌕﹒⿸﹒✶﹒❀﹒✷﹒✸﹒▒﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹐♡﹐❀﹒░﹒⇵﹒▨﹕◍﹒♡﹒⌕﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹑♡﹒✿﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒⇆﹒☆﹒@﹒˘ᗜ˘﹒☆﹔⿴﹒⪩﹐ᶻz﹒➜﹒⪩﹔◖﹐❀﹕⿸﹔﹢﹑ᐢᗜᐢ﹒⊂⊃﹑✿﹒◎﹒イ﹐ꕀ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹒ꕀ﹒▦﹐⊂⊃﹒⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒ᗢ﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩。ꕀ﹒✿﹒リ﹒⊞﹒⟡﹒⿴﹒☓﹐⊂⊃﹒➜﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒･ᴗ･﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹒◎﹒☓﹒☆﹔リ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹑ꕀ﹒▦﹒リ﹐⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩﹒ꕀ﹒✿﹔➜﹐﹏﹐★☆﹒┆︎﹒⩇﹒✿﹔✸﹕♡﹐◌﹒❥﹐％﹑〹．ʬʬ﹕੭﹐♢﹒口﹒⇣⇡﹒☆﹔⌗﹒⪩﹐ᶻ﹒➜﹒⪩﹔◖﹐❀﹕⿸﹑ᐢᗜᐢ﹒⊂⊃﹑✿﹒！﹒◎﹒リ﹐ꔠ﹐✿﹑∇﹒イ﹐ꕀ﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹒✶﹑﹒ꕀ﹒▦﹒⊂⊃﹒⇆﹒☆﹒⬚﹒❀﹕➜﹒⪩﹒⩇﹕✿﹒ʬʬ﹕口﹐〇﹒◍﹒⊞﹒∇﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◎﹒ᶻz﹒⪨﹒✶﹑✹﹒⪩﹐ꕀ﹒✿﹒⊞﹒⟡﹒⿸﹑␥﹒♡﹕リ﹒☓﹐⊂⊃﹒➜﹒⟡﹒⪩⪨﹒･ᴗ･﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✿﹒☓﹒✩﹒⊞﹕❀﹑◌﹒⊞﹒✸﹕⌗﹕★﹒ᶻz﹒✦﹒★☆﹒ıllı﹢☆﹕❀﹒▧﹒⟡﹒★﹕ıllı﹐▒﹒◎﹐☆﹒ꕀ﹔➜﹒⪩﹒〇﹐➜﹒★﹕◐﹒％﹐⊂⊃﹒♡﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒✧﹒˃̵ᴗ˂̵﹕˃ᗜ˂﹒ꕀ﹒ᶻz﹒☆﹔⿴﹒✶﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒➜﹒⭔﹕⪩⪨﹐﹢﹐◒﹒⊂⊃﹔♡﹒◍﹒✦﹒⪩⪨﹒▧﹒⟡﹕➜﹐▦﹒✦﹒✶﹐ㄑ﹕ꕀ﹒＞＜﹐ꔠ﹑ꕤ﹒░﹒◖﹒⟡﹒❀﹒→﹒⿴﹒⿻﹒⊞﹒♡﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒︴﹒✶﹒⭔﹐𓆩♡𓆪﹒リ﹒Ꮺ﹒キ﹒ꗃ﹒⿶﹒⌓﹒〹﹒⧅﹒◆﹒▽﹒ᐢ..ᐢ﹒⬙﹒⎙﹒◈﹒▣﹒ᶻz﹒⟢﹒ʬʬ﹒⊹﹒✷﹒◉﹒⿸﹒✶﹒❀﹒✷﹒⿻﹒⌇﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒◍﹒▿﹒⤸﹒○﹒░﹒⇵﹒☆﹒@﹒˘ᗜ˘﹒⬚﹒✸﹒▧﹒◎﹒♡﹒◜ᴗ◝﹒✸﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒✿﹑⟡﹒❀﹒★﹒➔﹒％﹒ᗜ﹔﹒⌗﹒﹪﹒﹒⟢﹒ᵔᴗᵔ﹒✮﹒^..^﹒✵﹒ (｡>﹏< ? ♡ !! 𓂃 . ට . . . ˓˓ ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა ▯ ◠ ﹟𓈈 ᓚᘏᗢ ◠︰ ⨯ // ╰﹒(੭ ´͈꒳'͈)੭ ╰ ╯╭ ╮ᕱ‧ᕱ (๑•ᴗ•๑) ୨୧ • ·➤ ☆◞ ៸៸ 人 : ★⌒꒷꒦ ⊞ 𐅰 ⎗ 𖣯 ▦ 𐄹 ⋕ ＃ ꖛ 𖥻 ୭ꪆ ᥫ ᘏ Ꮼ ᘓ ୬ ෧ ᘡ 𖥨 𓈈 𓈀 𓈃 𓏔 ୨୧ • : :┊ ʚ︰ ₊˚✿ ꒱ ◠ ꒷꒦ ⌗ ．？！、＂＇（）＠／＆＿＃％；：＋＜＝＞〜… ˁ˙˟˙ˀ ꒷꒦ ๑ ♡ ﹕₊ ・ 〜 ꒷꒦꒰・ ˁ˙˟˙ˀ ୨୧ • : ୧ ₊˚ ⌗ ˁ˙˟˙ˀ ꒷꒦ ๑ ♡ ﹕₊˚ ✦・୨୧・ ˎˊ- 〜 ꒷꒦ ╭・꒷꒦꒰ ︵︵﹆ . ⁺ . ✦ ﹒₊˚𓂃 ★﹒₊‧ ★・⸝⸝﹒₊˚﹕﹒₊‧ ﹒₊˚𓂃・﹕★﹒₊‧ ╰╮﹔﹒⧣₊˚ ˚₊﹒﹒╭╯ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ╭╯ ╰╮l﹒⧣ 𓆩 𓆪 𓄴 𓄵 𓄶 𓄷 ❀ ꈍᴗꈍ ꃋᴖꃋ 葉 两 ⚞ ⚟ ◜◝◞◟(\ /) ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ # ごめんなさい ᵎᵎ モンスタ 命 ୧ ⬪ ʚ ୫ 𖠿 ៹ ꐑꐑ ᕬ ⎙ ৎ୭ ‹𝟹 ‹𝟥 ❨ ╲ ╱ ❩ ∀ ≧◡≦ ╰╮‹ゞˀˀᗢ__﹞﹝𑁯⌗。▭⋯⏝ — ୨୧ 𓂃 ꩜! . ૮ ╰・손 𓂅 ╭╯: 𖣠︶꒦꒷ ᗢ . ⌗𓂃 ২・◞ ・ ⸝⸝ ҂ 𓂃 ֙⋆ +．★☆ ᕱ⑅ᕱ ᰔ ⺌⺌ ︿︿ જ⁀➴ 仌 ᄋ﹟⩇⩇:⩇⩇ ★˖✦ › # ごめんなさい ᵎᵎ モンスタ `·. :¨·.·¨: ⬫ 𓍯 ‹𝟹 ৎ୭ ⪧☆ 𖤐╰►✦₊×・ɞ﹕﹕୨ʚĭɞ୧﹕ ╰ʚ・ ୨୧ ˖ ˚ × ๑ 人 ꈍᴗꈍ Ꮺ ᘏ ⁾ ୨୧・┈・-ଘ੭ˊᵕˋ੭～✧ʚ︰ ︶︶꒦︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶✧₊˚୨୧ ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 . 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ ✧ . ˖˳ ₊ * * ✦ . * ✦˳ ── ˖˚˳:: ๑✦୨୧・ ╰──・──・──・ ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ — ⸝⸝ ﾟ･｡･ ⨯ ʚ┊ ⨯ — ⊹ — ✦ ₊˚⌇ ₊˚๑ ゛ × ⌑・ ₊˚๑ ✦ ₊˚⌇ ₊˚๑ ︶꒷꒦ ‧₊ ︶꒷꒦︶꒦ ︶x꒦ • ๑‧˚₊4︶︶୨୧︶︶✦‧₊˚⊹ ˖˚₊ ✎ ( ˶ᵔᴗᵔ˶ ) ✧ ⌒⌒ ˚⊹ 「 」︰╮ ₊˚๑ ˖˚₊ ୨୧． ・୨୧ ︶︶︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒦꒷︶ ✦ ♡ ✧ ︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦꒷꒦︶ ୨୧． ⌒ ⌒ ⌒ ⌒ ‧₊˚๑ ── ♡ ⊹ ᵎᵎ ──・๑ ₊˚ ꒷꒦ ꒰꒱┇✧． ꒰꒱┇✦． ꒰꒱┇✧． ꒰꒱┇✦． ⁺ ˖˚ ໑ ₊˚ ──・──・・✧ ・・──・── ꒰꒰ ✎ :: ⊹ ── ． ． ┄┄ ₊˚๑ ・ ‧ ✎ ₊ ๑ ⋆˚. ⌒⌒ ₊ ๑ ⌒⌒ ₊ ๑ ⌒⌒ ♡₊˚ ❜ ๑ ₊˚ ꒷꒦ ꒰୨୧꒱． ꒰୨୧꒱． ┊ ๑ ˚. ┊ ︰ ┊ ⁀➷ ˖˚₊⠀⠀✧⠀ ♡⠀ ￤⠀✦ ⠀⠀┊ ◞⁺⊹． ⠀⠀꒦ 𖧷 ✦ ┊︰・˚₊ ┊꒰꒰ ꒱꒱ ₊˚๑ ✧ ꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶ ・꒷꒦‧₊˚ ╭──・───────・ˊ＊ ╰──・───────・ˊ＊ ・꒷꒦‧₊˚ ︵ ⋆｡˚ ︵ ⋆｡˚ ⿻ ˒ 𓂃 ⸝⸝ ︵ ★ ⌒꒷꒦ ﹕⨳ ⁛★☆ 水の 𓈀 組 : 𓂅 𓄹ㅤ 薬 ! ㅤ県 ৲ 参 ■ ! 𖠳 𓂃 ▦ ! 㒍 ꯴ 繮： ❛ ㅤ𖥻 ♥︎.ㅤ縙ㅤ𓍼ㅤ ⊹ ୨୧ (๑꧆◡꧆๑) #O1 , ᵎ ・┈・・┈・・┈・・┈・・┈・ ╰╮ ꒰꒰ㅤ﹕★ #O2 , ᵎ #O3 , ᵎ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶꒷꒷꒦︶ : ＃ ☆★ !! — — — — — — — ੭ 𓂅 ・・♡ ~（ゝ。∂） ⋆ ࣪ ִֶָ . ꩜ ⁘ ︻ 上═ 𓂃 % ¿¿ ˑ ࿏ 𓄹 ࣪ ִֶָ ࣪ ּ ִ ִ ˑ (:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅::]̲̅:̲̅::) 𓂃 ִֶָ . ꩜ >﹏★/ ︻デ═ ╭ ﹆ ⁺ ╰╮° ˖ ┊໑ ₊˚ 人 %ᵕ‿‿ᵕ% ꒷꒦% ## 𖧧 𓂃໑#★ ⋆ ˚꒦꒷ ⋆ (ゝ'-')︻デ═一 * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ 𓂂 ꙳ ੭ ₍ ₎ — ᠀ 𝟎𝟏 ! — ᵕ̈ ｡ — ˓ ⋆ 𝟎𝟐 ꜥꜤ ᐢ..ᐢ ━ 𝟎𝟑 ، ㅤㅤᘏ ﹕ ♥︎೨ 𓏲੭ ˒ 𒊹︎ ╰﹒ ˚ ⸼ ۫ 𓍯﹫ 𓏭 ั ᓚᘏᗢ ↯ . . . . ੭ ╾━╤デ╦︻⁰⁰¹∙ ﹕ ₊ ‧ ╱╳╲ ‧⁰⁰²∙ ,, ‧ ⁰⁰³∙ ﹕ ₊ ‧ ╱╳╲ ‧⁰⁰⁴∙ ,, ‧ ➜ ◠ ：ᨓᨓ ៹࣪ ៸៸╭━𖤘・˃ᴗ˂╰━꒰ ᵕ ༝ ᵕ ꒱可⋋✦₊꩜﹒𓂅 ˇ :japanese_castle: ִֶָ ︰꩜？！⋆ 　 ﹒ 　⁺ 　﹒　 ☆ ﹒　　⁺ 　﹒⋆ 　 ﹒ 　⁺ 　﹒　 ★ ﹒　　⁺ 　﹒×𓌹ᄋ𓌺 ☆ 仌 ⨾҂ᵎᵎ⁺˒ᘛᘚ✿೨୧ ₪◊⋐⋑˘˘˘Ɛ

⊹ ࣪ ˖ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ✩₊˚.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠶⢦⣤⠶⠶⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣇⠀⠀⠁⠀⢀⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠙⢧⣄⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⡀⠀⠉⠛⠃⣠⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⠉⠙⢳⣄⢀⡾⠁⠈⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⡄⠀⠐⠙⢿⡇⠀⢰⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠙⣦⡀⠄⠀⠹⣦⡟⡀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠈⢳⣆⠀⠀⠈⠻⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡞⡫⠛⢧⡀⠀⠀⠘⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡴⠾⣧⡄⠁⠀⠹⣦⠀⠀⠈⢿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⣀⣿⠀⠈⠈⡻⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⠉⠛⣷⣄⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢷⡀⠀⠀⠉⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣦⡁⠁⡀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠈⠙⠶⣤⣤⣤⡤⠶⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡢⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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

Layo(ꪜ)er

🐉🟠𝐙

¸¸♬·¯·♩¸¸♪·¯·♫¸¸ 𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖊 𝖗𝖚𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖆𝖓 ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸¸♩·¯·♬¸ 📜🤎🍂🎻🪞 📜

z🐻‍❄️

v₊˚⊹♡

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⢤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡝⣍⠉⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣦⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡄⠀⠘⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠸⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⠅⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⡄⢠⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡟⠀⠀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣷⡹⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡽⡟⠱⢓⠌⠻⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⡙⠢⣀⠁⡷⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣍⠀⣈⣙⢺⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠉⠉⠳⣾⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠇⠈⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⢿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣙⣥⣿⣯⣷⣀⡀⠀⠀⣀⣠⣍⡀⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⢀⢀⣿⣿⣿⠄⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣱⢯⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣷⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠧⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣽⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⢣⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣾⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡅⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡀⠈⣿⣿⣿⡗⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠘⣿⣿⡿⠀⢰⣿⣿⣿⡄⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠹⢿⡿⠁⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠀⠉⠀⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠁⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡾⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⢹⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⡿⣫⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⢣⢟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⢿⣟⡿⣹⣎⠷⡜⠒⠒⢆⡻⣼⣻⣟⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⢿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⡟⢂⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣾⣿⡾⣟⣷⣯⣟⣿⠳⠯⠞⡛⡱⢋⡛⡹⣍⢧⣙⣎⡳⣞⣵⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠁⠀⠀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⢯⢷⡛⣭⢳⡘⣔⢢⣙⣆⣣⣵⣡⣧⣽⣷⣾⣾⣷⣮⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⠑⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣷⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣦⡤⣍⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠁⠄⡈⢽⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠃⠀⢘⠠⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆≽^•⩊•^≼

tᦓꪻ᥅ꪖꪗ ᛕ꠸ᦔᦓ๋࣭ ⭑‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡󠁤

×͜×

🐹ྀི

𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖚𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣟⢯⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣯⣷⣜⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

🇿

✎ᝰ.

k ᡣ𐭩

✧˖°🎋彡𓍢ִ໋🫧 🎍𓍼ོ

⋆˚࿔ caiii 𝜗𝜚˚⋆☆ micaiah ☆ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ᰔᩚ

🍉🍌🧄🍌

moon ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

🐻‍❄️ྀིྀི

⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚ྀི⁷⁷⁷̤̮

⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢴⣶⡴⠢⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠹⠧⠀⡀⢠⢈⡉⠛⠿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡶⠞⢁⣼⠈⣿⢷⣦⡀⠉⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⢀⣴⡟⠁⣰⠇⠀⠙⢿⣦⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⢠⣴⣿⣿⠀⢰⣿⠀⣾⣆⠀⢻⣧⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⠀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⢸⣿⠀⣿⣿⡆⠀⣿⡄⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⢠⣿⣿⠿⠛⠉⠀⢀⡻⣧⡸⣿⡇⠀⢸⠃⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⢸⣿⠃⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠇⠀⡟⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠙⠛⠷⣨⡏⢠⣿⣿⠟⠋⣁⣢⣤⣤⣤⣄⠈⢤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣧⣀⡀⠀⠲⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⡀⠓⣸⡟⢁⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣍⠙⣦⡈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⡀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠘⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠘⣿⣦⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⡀⠘⣿⣿⡟⢿⣿⣿⡗⢀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣭⣭⣉⠙⢿⣦⡈⠉⠁⡀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⣌⣛⣋⣠⣾⣿⡿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⣠⣥⣼⣿⣿⣿⣇⣑⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠈⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡍⠛⠛⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⡃⠘⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣧⡄⠙⠿⣿⣿⡟⠻⣿⡟⠯⠽⠻⣿⣶⣦⣅⡀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣿⠁⣴⣧⠈⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣆⠀⢀⣀⡀⠙⢿⣿⣷⢦⣤⣭⣥⠠⣿⠇⣤⣬⡄⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢠⣿⡿⠿⠧⠬⢧⠘⠉⠉⠉⣩ ⣿⣿⡇⠈⣿⣿⡀⠈⠟⠁⡀⠹⣿⣿⠀⣿⡄⢻⣿⣇⠘⠻⢿⣿⠿⠃⢀⣾⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⡜⢁⣤⣶⣶⣤⠀⣴⡿⠀⣰⣿ ⣿⣿⡇⠀⣿⣿⣷⡀⠀⣾⣷⠀⣿⡇⢰⠿⢃⠀⠻⣿⣿⣤⣀⣀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⡿⠃⢀⣼⣰⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠃⢀⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⠀⢿⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⠇⢰⣋⣠⣤⣶⣿⣷⣄⡀⠙⠛⠻⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⠀⣴⣿⣿⡀⣰⣦⣄⡉⠙⠋⢩⣠⣾⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣧⠀⠻⠉⢻⡿⠋⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣤⣶⣿⡆⣿⣿⣿⡿⠛⠉⠉⠉⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⠟⢉⣴⣾⣷⣶⣾⣶⣶⣬⡙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⣿⣿⠋⢀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣶⣤⡇⠹⣿⣿⣿ ⡏⢠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣄⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⢰⡿⠁⢠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⠀⢹⣿⣿ ⠁⢸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣧⡈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠛⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⣠⠟⠁⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠸⣿⣿ ⡄⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠈⠛⠿⣿⠿⠿⠞⠛⢉⡠⠔⠊⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠁⢰⣿⣿ ⣷⡀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣤⣀⣉⣉⠉⢉⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢠⣾⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣦⡄⠈⠙⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠘⣷⠸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠟⠋⣀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣤⣄⣀⠉⠉⠛⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠃⢰⣿⣄⠘⠛⠿⣿⣿⡿⠟⣛⣛⣉⣉⣡⣤⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣦⣤⣀⠉⠛⢿⣿⣿⣦⠀⢹⣿⣷⡆⠐⣿⣷⣬⣍⠙⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⢹⣿⣿⡆⠈⣿⣿⣷⡀⠘⠿⣿⣿⣷⣤⠈⠉⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡷⢀⣿⡿⠁⢰⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣄⡀⠈⠁⣀⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠡⠾⠛⢁⣠⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿

beach ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱ ♱

♾️⚡🔋💍🏮|⏭️🦸⚡|⚞🦸⚡.

letter m ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ABCDEƐFGHIJKLMNÑŊOƆPQRSTUVWXYZ

❌❌🛸⛏👮☠❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❌❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎❎

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 😴

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⡀⢀⣄⣀⣤⣤⣤⣶⣤⣤⣤⣤⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠁⠀⠀⠉⢻⣿⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣷⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠛⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡏⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣯⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣧⣤⣤⣶⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⡇⠀⢸⣿⣷⣄⣀⢀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠿⠟⠛⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣿⣿⠿⢿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣷⡀⠘⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠃⣴⣿⣿⠟⠛⠛⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣶⣽⣿⣿⣄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡿⠋⣠⣾⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⠟⢁⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⡿⠁⣰⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠋⣠⣾⣿⡿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣀⣰⣾⣿⠟⢁⣴⣿⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣴⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣦⣄⣠⣴⣿⣿⡿⠿⢿⣿⣶⣿⣿⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣾⣿⡿⢛⣉⣥⣤⣤⣤⣀⡀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⠋⣁⣀⣀⡀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣶⣶⣶⣶⣦⣤⣄⣀⣀⣠⣤⣤⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣟⣭⣾⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠛⠿⢿⣷⣦⡀⠈⠻⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⠿⠛⠋⠉⠙⠛⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⣿⣯⣾⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣆⠀⠘⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣷⡀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣹⣿⣇⠀⠘⣿⣧⠀⠀⠈⣿⣷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⣿⣿⣾⣿⣅⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣴⣾⣿⠟⢿⣿⠀⠀⢿⣿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠰⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⡿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⣼⣿⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⡿⠛⠋⠉⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⣿⣿⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣿⡟⠀⢀⣿⡿⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⡟⠀⠀⣀⣤⣾⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⡿⠁⢀⣾⣿⢣⣄⠀⢀⣠⣿⣧⣄⣀⣀⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⣻⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢀⣠⣴⣶⣶⣶⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⣤⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⣴⣾⡿⠋⠀⣠⣾⣿⣧⣼⣿⣿⣿⠿⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⣿⣿⣯⣹⣿⣿⢋⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣴⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣮⣝⡛⠿⠿⠿⠿⠟⠛⠉⣀⣴⣾⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠻⣿⣿⣷⣤⣹⣿⣿⠋⠁⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⡿⠃⢸⣿⣿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⡿⠁⣴⣶⣦⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⠈⠛⠿⣿⣿⣷⣶⣶⣶⣶⣾⣿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣼⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⣿⣿⣦⣹⣿⣿⣍⣡⣾⣿⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⢉⣩⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣸⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⠻⠿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⣿⣿⠿⠛⠛⠛⠻⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠿⢿⣿⡿⠿⠿⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣇⠀⠀⣴⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠉⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣶⣿⣿⣿⣿⡿⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

🧸✨𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆🔤🔤☆𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥☆𝑒ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑖𝑒

KAREN AND THE AUTISTIC JOURNEY v (Autistic author) The room falls into a tense silence, the air thick with the unspoken words of regret and uncertainty. Plankton's humming becomes the only sound in the room. Sandy's eyes are glued to Plankton, watching his hands move in a mesmerizing pattern. His humming grows slightly louder, filling the space around them with a comforting buzz. Despite the simplicity of the act, it's a powerful declaration of his new reality. "Plankton are you ok?" Sandy asks him. Plankton's humming stops abruptly, his gaze snaps to her. "Book," he says with longing. "Want book." Sandy nods, her eyes glistening with newfound understanding. "Of course," she says, standing up. She and Karen move to the shelf where she had placed the book earlier. Karen reaches up, her hand carefully retrieving it. "Here," she says, her voice calm, handing the science book to him. He opens it, his gaze immediately drawn to the index table in the back. His eye scans the rows, his brain finding comfort in the predictability of the page numbers. He starts to read the index aloud, his voice a monotone that fills the room with a strange rhythm. "Quantum Mechanics... 134," he reads, his finger tracing the line. "Relativity, Special and General... 212." Karen and Sandy listen, their expressions a mix of wonder and concern. They've never seen Plankton so engrossed in anything other than his own schemes before. Sandy's gaze follows the movement of his finger as it traces the numbers, her mind trying to grasp the significance of his actions. "Why does he read the index like that?" she whispers to Karen. Karen's smile is filled with both love and pride. "It's his way of finding order," she concurs. "The numbers, the patterns, it brings him comfort." Sandy nods, her eyes never leaving Plankton. His focus on the book is intense, his voice a steady rhythm as he reads off the page numbers. "Biology... 37. Chemistry... 101," he drones. Karen sits beside him, her hand on his back, providing the gentle pressure he craves. The sound of his voice, the comfort of the book's familiar weight, it's all part of his new routine. Sandy sits opposite, her paws clasped in her lap, watching intently. Her gaze flickers from Plankton to Karen and back again. She's learning, trying to understand. Plankton's voice rises in excitement as he reaches the physics section. "Quantum Entanglement... 543!" he exclaims, his hands flapping. His eye lit up, a rare smile spreading across his face. Karen's smiles. This was the Plankton she knew, the one who found delight in the complexity of the universe. He reads on, his voice picking up speed. "String Theory... 621! Gravity Waves... 784!" His stimming becomes more animated, his hands fluttering like the wings of a butterfly, each flap a silent declaration of his newfound obsession with order. Sandy's curiosity is piqued, but she's careful not to interrupt, instead watching him with a newfound respect. Karen smiles, her hand still on his back, feeling the warmth of his excitement through her metal shell. "Plankton, why do you like the index so much?" Sandy asks, keeping her voice soft, when the doorbell rings. Karen's head snaps up, the interrupted moment forgotten. "I'll get it," she says, standing quickly. SpongeBob's face appears in the doorway. "Hi, Karen!" he says, his voice bright and cheerful. "Hi, Sandy!" Sandy's eyes dart to the closed bedroom door, then back to Karen. "I should go," she says, standing up. "Let you guys have some space." Karen nods, her gaze following Sandy's. "Thank you," she whispers. "Bye Sandy. Sponge Bob, come on in; Plankton's in the bedroom.." SpongeBob's now going in, his eyes wide with excitement. "What's up, Plankton?" he says, his voice a bubbly burst of enthusiasm. Plankton's head snaps up, his eye wide. "SpongeBob," he says, his voice excitedly affectionate. Sponge Bob's eyes widen at the sight of Plankton's intense focus on the book. "Wow, Plankton, you're really into that, huh?" Plankton's hands stop moving, his gaze shifting from the index to Sponge Bob's smiling face. "Sponge Bob," he says, his voice filled with glee. He jumps up from the bed, the book forgotten as he rushes to embrace his friend. Sponge Bob stumbles backward, surprise etched on his features as Plankton's arms wrap around his waist. "Whoa, buddy," he says, his eyes wide. "What's gotten into you?" Plankton's grip tightens, his body vibrating with joy. "Sponge Bob," he repeats, his voice a high-pitched squeak. Sponge Bob's smile falters, his hands awkwardly patting Plankton's back. "It's ok, Plankton," he says, his voice gentle. "I'm just here to visit." Plankton pulls away, his eye shining with joy with a warmth Sponge Bob isn't used to seeing from him. "Come, sit," he says, his voice eager. He pats the spot on the bed next to him. Sponge Bob's expression is a mix of happiness and concern. Sponge Bob sits down, his body tense. "Plankton, you ok?" he asks, his eyes searching Plankton's. Plankton nods, his hands still flapping in excitement. "Good," he says, his voice monotone yet earnest.

hey guys. I'm gonna do a super duper zuper backflip˙ᵕ˙

જ⁀➴˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧🩷˚.🎀༘⋆

💐🌷

m ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

bôn

A PLANKTON FAMILY STORY v (By NeuroFabulous) Karen held Plankton tightly, his sobs shaking both of them. "It's okay," she murmured, stroking his back. "You're still my husband. You're still Chip's dad." Her voice was a salve to his soul, but the wound was deep. In Chip's room, the silence was deafening. He sat on his bed, staring at the wall, his thoughts racing. He had never meant to hurt Plankton like that. He had just wanted his dad to be like everyone else's. He didn't understand why it had to be so hard. Outside, the sound of Karen trying to comfort Plankton's sobs drifted under the door, each one a knife in Chip's heart. He had never heard his dad cry before, and it made him feel like the biggest jerk in the sea. What had he done? He didn't want Plankton to go anywhere. He just wanted all to be okay. He sat on his bed, his eyes blurring with tears as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His mind raced with thoughts of his dad, his hero, his rock, now a crumbling mess in his mother's arms. He couldn't bear to think of the pain he had caused. He stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he approached the door. Karen looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and tired, but filled with a fierce love that never wavered. Plankton was still sobbing into her shoulder, his body trembling with the force of his pain. Chip felt like he couldn't breathe, his chest tight with regret. "I'm sorry," he choked out, his voice small and shaky. "I didn't mean it. I just..." But the words trailed off, his throat thick with unshed tears. Karen looked up at him, her eyes brimming with a mix of love and disappointment. "Chip," she said, her voice firm but gentle, "you need to understand. Your dad can't just turn his autism off." She took a deep breath, her gaze never leaving Chip's. "And we love him just the way he is." Plankton's body convulsed with each sob, his fear palpable in the tiny room. He had always known his condition set him apart, but to hear his son say such things... It was more than he could bear. Karen looked at Chip, her expression a mix of anger and sadness. "Chip, what you said was hurtful," she began, her voice shaking with emotion. "But you need to know that your dad's autism is just part of who he is." Plankton's sobs grew quieter, his body slowly calming down as he heard Karen's words. He knew she was right, but the fear remained, a cold knot in his stomach. Fear of rejection, fear of being seen as a burden, fear of losing the ones he loved most. Chip's eyes were glued to the floor, the weight of his words pressing down on him like a heavy stone. He felt like a monster, a creature that had lashed out without thought for the consequences. He took a tentative step forward. "Dad," he whispered, his voice choking with tears. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean any of it." Plankton's convulsions slowly subsided, his body still tense against Karen's embrace. His eye was closed tightly, as if trying to block out the painful reality. Plankton's convulsions grew less intense, his body slowly relaxing into Karen's embrace. His breathing was ragged, his antennas quivering slightly with each exhale. The look in his eye spoke volumes, a swirl of emotions that seemed to mirror the turmoil in Chip's own heart. The room was a stark contrast to the chaotic underwater world outside, the silence interrupted only by the occasional sniffle from Plankton. Karen's gaze never left Chip's face, her expression a mix of love and disappointment. "Your father's autism is a part of him, Chip," she continued, her voice measured. "It's like his brain has its own language, and sometimes it's hard for him to translate it to ours. But that doesn't make him any less of a person, or any less of a dad." Chip felt a knot in his stomach, his regret growing with every word Karen said. He had never thought about it like that before—his dad wasn't broken or weird, just different. And he had hurt him so badly. "But I just want him to be normal," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why ca--" "Normal?" Plankton's voice was harsher than Chip had ever heard it. He pulled away from Karen, his eye blazing with a fierce intensity. "Chip, maybe you're the one who needs to leave.." "Plankton," Karen said, her voice a plea. "This isn't helping." But Plankton's face was a mask of pain and anger. Chip's heart raced, his dad's words cutting deeper than any insult he had ever heard. "Dad," he said, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean it." But Plankton was beyond reason, his emotions a swirling maelstrom of anger and hurt. "Get out," he said, his voice cold and final. Karen's eyes widened with shock, but she knew better than to argue with him when he was like this. She stood, carefully setting Plankton aside. He didn't move, just sat there, his body rigid with pain. "Come on, Chip," she said gently, her hand on his shoulder. "Let's give your dad some space." Chip's eyes were filled with tears, his heart breaking at the sight of his father's pain. He didn't know what to do, his mind racing with fear and regret. He allowed Karen to lead him out of the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving Plankton alone with his thoughts.

SHELF IMPROVEMENT v (Autistic author) They sat together, the morning light filtering through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over their quiet meal. Karen watched Plankton closely, noticing the subtle differences in his behavior. The way his eye would dart around the room, as if searching for something. The way his antennas would stiffen whenever a noise pierced their sanctuary. "No more noise," he whispered, his voice tight with anxiety. Karen nodded, swiping at her eyes. "I'll be quiet, Plankton. I'm here." They ate in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Karen's mind raced with the implications of this new development. She had read about autism before, but it had always felt like something that happened to other people. Now it was right here, in their kitchen, changing the dynamic of their relationship. Plankton's antennae twitched as he chewed, his focus completely on his food. Every now and then, he'd look up at Karen, his eye searching for reassurance. She gave it without hesitation, her smile genuine, full of love. As they finished breakfast, Karen's mind raced with what their day would look like now. Would they still go about their usual routine, or would everything be different? "Plankton," she said gently, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Do you w..." He flinched at the sudden contact, his antennae shooting straight up. She had to be more careful, more sensitive to his new reality. She pulled her hand back, giving him space. "Plankton," she started again, her voice softer this time. "Do you want to find a quiet place to sit for a while?" He nodded, his antennas still. "Quiet," he whispered, his eye flickering to the living room. Together, they moved to the couch, the sunken cushions welcoming them like an old friend. Karen knew Plankton liked the feeling of being enveloped, and she hoped it would offer him some comfort, and moved a throw blanket over his legs. Plankton leaned into the cushions, his antennae twitching slightly as his eye darted around the room. Karen sat beside him, not sure what to say or do next. "Would you like to read a book?" she offered tentatively. Plankton's antennae stopped moving for a moment, his gaze locking onto hers. "Book," he mumbled, his voice lacking the enthusiasm he usually had. Karen selected a simple story, hoping the familiar words would comfort him. As she read, Plankton remained still, his eye half-closed. The words were a gentle lullaby to his overwhelmed mind. Karen noticed that he didn't react to the plot twists or the punchlines, his expression unchanged. It was as if he was listening, but not quite there. "The end," she said softly, closing the book. Plankton's antennae quivered slightly, and he turned his gaze to her. "Book," he mumbled. It was the first word he had said in what felt like hours. This wasn't the Plankton she knew, the one who could spout complex sentences and wield his wit like a weapon. This was a Plankton lost in a world of sensory overload and confusion. She knew that autism was a spectrum, and that Plankton was still himself, but it was difficult to see him this way. "Let's try something else," she suggested, desperation tinting her voice. She searched his face for any sign of recognition or interest. Plankton nodded, his antennas drooping slightly. "Okay," he murmured, his eye unfocused. "How about we play a game?" she suggested.

I 𝓕o®🇬⚬t ♄⚬ω t⚬ 𝐬୧🅰®c♄ 𝐬†∪fƒ in ୧𝓂oj𝒾ℂo𝐌b⚬ 🅰 🇦 𝓐 ⩜ 𝛂 𝖆 𝒶 ß 🅱 🇧 В ₿ 𝑏 𝓫 © 🇨 𝐂 € ☾ 🇩 𝐃 𝒟 ძ 𝒅 𝑬 🇪 𝔼 ୧ 𝑒 🇫 𝓕 𝒥 𝓯 ƒ 🇬 ɢ 𝓖 ℊ 𝓰 Ⓗ 🇭 ℋ |-| 𝓗 ♄ ℌ 🇮𝑰 ┃ 𝒾 ﹗ 𝓣 🇯󠁄 𝐣 ʝ 🇰 𝒦 🅺 ʞ 𝒌 𝑳 🇱 ℒ ʟ | 𝓜 🇲 Ⓜ 𝐌 ᙏ 𝓂 𝐦 🇳 𝓝 Nྀི nྀི 𓎆 И 🇴 𝒐 ⚬ 𝟎 ♡ ☺ 𝓹 🇵 𝐏 ℘ 🇶 𝕢 𝓺 𝖖 ® 🇷 ℛ Ʀ 𝐫 🇸 🆂 𝓢 𝐒 𝐬 𝓼 🇹 𝓣 т ✝ ⚚ 𝓽 🇺 ∪ 𝓾 𝕦 𝖚 𝓥 𝐕 \/ Ⓥ 🅥 🇻 🇼 🆆 𝓦 ω 𝕨 ш 🇽 ✗ ﾒ 𝕏 ༝ × ㄨ 𝓍 א 🇾 𝓨 Ｙ ꪗ 𝕪 ყ 🇿 ☡ 𐰁 ᶻ 𝗓 𝐙 ᴀ ʙ ᴄ ᴅ ᴇ ғ ɢ ʜ ɪ ᴊ ᴋ ʟ ᴍ ɴ ᴏ ᴘ ǫ ʀ s ᴛ ᴜ ᴠ ᴡ x ʏ ᴢ 𝓪 𝓫 𝓬 𝓭 𝓮 𝓯 𝓰 𝓱 𝓲 𝓳 𝓴 𝓵 𝓶 𝓷 𝓸 𝓹 𝓺 𝓻 𝓼 𝓽 𝓾 𝓿 𝔀 𝔁 𝔂 𝔃 𝕒 𝕓 𝕔 𝕕 𝕖 𝕗 𝕘 𝕙 𝕚 𝕛 𝕜 𝕝 𝕞 𝕟 𝕠 𝕡 𝕢 𝕣 𝕤 𝕥 𝕦 𝕧 𝕨 𝕩 𝕪 𝕫 ᗩ ᗷ ᑕ ᗪ E ᖴ G ᕼ I ᒍ K ᒪ ᗰ ᑎ O ᑭ ᑫ ᖇ ᔕ T ᑌ ᐯ ᗯ ᙭ Y ᘔ 🇦‌ 🇧‌ 🇨‌ 🇩‌ 🇪‌ 🇫‌ 🇬‌ 🇭‌ 🇮‌ 🇯‌ 🇰‌ 🇱‌ 🇲‌ 🇳‌ 🇴‌ 🇵‌ 🇶‌ 🇷‌ 🇸‌ 🇹‌ 🇺‌ 🇻‌ 🇼‌ 🇽‌ 🇾‌ 🇿‌ 🅰 🅱 🅲 🅳 🅴 🅵 🅶 🅷 🅸 🅹 🅺 🅻 🅼 🅽 🅾 🅿 🆀 🆁 🆂 🆃 🆄 🆅 🆆 🆇 🆈 🆉 𝔞 𝔟 𝔠 𝔡 𝔢 𝔣 𝔤 𝔥 𝔦 𝔧 𝔨 𝔩 𝔪 𝔫 𝔬 𝔭 𝔮 𝔯 𝔰 𝔱 𝔲 𝔳 𝔴 𝔵 𝔶 𝔷 ᵃ ᵇ ᶜ ᵈ ᵉ ᶠ ᵍ ʰ ⁱ ʲ ᵏ ˡ ᵐ ⁿ ᵒ ᵖ ૧ ʳ ˢ ᵗ ᵘ ᵛ ʷ ˣ ʸ ᶻ

Крис Найт ☭

༗xd

A LIFE OF DIVERSITY v (Autistic author) The door to the Chum Bucket creaked open, and Patrick Star waddled in, a quizzical expression on his face as he took in the scene before him. "What's with the library vibe?" he asked looking from the book-laden table to Plankton's intense gaze. Plankton looked up from the book, antennae stilling for a brief moment before he resumed his recitation of pi. "Pi, 3.14159265358979323846..." Patrick's eyes grew wide as he took in Plankton's intense focus and the unwavering rhythm of his voice. "Plankton, buddy, what's got you in such a tizzy?" he asked, his usual lazy drawl replaced with curiosity. Plankton's antennae twitched as he broke from recitation. Patrick looked at Plankton with genuine curiosity. "Patrick," Plankton said, his voice flat but his antennae twitching slightly. "Jellyfish club." Patrick blinked, his star-shaped pupils dilating in surprise. "Jellyfish club?" he echoed, his voice rising an octave. Karen nodded. "Yes, we were just talking about starting a jellyfish club," she explained, gesturing to the book. "Since Plankton's really interested in them now." Patrick looked from Karen to Plankton, then back again. "But Plankton, jellyfish sting," he said, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Jellyfish sting," Plankton agreed, his voice still monotone. "But Plankton have plan. Jellyfish in jar." Patrick's eyebrows shot up. "Jellyfish in a jar? What's the point of that, buddy?" "Safe jellyfish," he murmured, his voice tight. "What's that supposed to mean, Plankton?" Patrick asked. "Mean jellyfish safe," he said, his voice a little less monotone. "In jar." Patrick chuckled, mistaking Plankton's seriousness for a joke. "Yeah, right, Plankton. You're not seriously gonna start a jellyfish club, are you?" The room's atmosphere shifted, and Plankton's antennae drooped slightly. "Why not?" he asked, his voice devoid of its earlier excitement. Patrick's chuckles died in his throat as he realized Plankton wasn't joking. "Well, I didn't mean to laugh," he said, his voice tinged with awkwardness. "It's just, jellyfish are kind of... boring, don't you think?" Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he closed the book with a thud. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice devoid of its previous enthusiasm. "It's just... jellyfish aren't exactly the most exciting creatures," Patrick said, trying to recover from his faux pas. "They just float around, right?" The room went quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped further, and he stared at Patrick, his eye unblinking. "Boring," he murmured, his voice a mix of hurt and disappointment. Patrick, not realizing the depth of Plankton's newfound interest continued, "I mean, come on, Plankton. There's more to life than jellyfish." Plankton's antennae stiffened, and he looked at Patrick with a mix of confusion and hurt. "Boring?" he echoed, his voice monotone yet filled with a hint of challenge. "Well, yeah," Patrick said, shrugging his shoulders. "I mean jellyfish are for tourists and little kids, right?" The words hung in the air like a thick fog, and the room grew tense as Plankton's antennae quivered with a mix of anger and hurt. "Patrick, maybe that wasn't the best thing to say," Karen said, her voice a gentle warning. But Patrick, oblivious to the tension building in the room, shrugged again. "I'm just saying, jellyfish aren't exactly the coolest things in the ocean, Plankton," he said, his voice still filled with cheerfulness. "Why don't you jus-" Plankton's antennae shot up, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Jellyfish cool," he said, his voice a monotone, but with a hint of steel. "Oh, come on, Plankton," Patrick said, waving a dismissive hand. "You're smarter than this. Why waste your time with jellyfish?" "Jellyfish interesting. Plankton like jellyfish." Karen stepped in, trying to smooth things over. "Patrick, Plankton's just found something that he really enjoys," she said. "We should support him in his new interest." But Patrick, still not grasping the gravity of the situation, chuckled. "Oh, Plankton, always so dramatic. It's just a phase. And you can't talk like that forever, right?" He then mimicked Plankton's flat tone saying, "Plankton wike jellyfish," which sent him into a fit of giggles. The room grew quiet as Plankton's antennae drooped, and a single tear formed at the corner of his eye, sliding down his face. "B-but, Plankton thought..." Plankton's voice broke as Patrick interrupts him again mimicking him. "B-but, Plankton thought," Patrick said, his voice a high-pitched parody of Plankton's monotone. "Jellyfish cool," he continued, his giggles echoing in the room. Plankton's antennae shot up. "Jellyfish cool," he repeated, his voice firm and unwavering. Patrick's giggles didn't stop, and he leaned closer to Sponge Bob, whispering, "Is he for real?" But Plankton's tears didn't fall in vain. The moment his sobs filled the room, the atmosphere shifted. Karen's with horror at the sight of her husband's pain, and she rushed over to him, wrapping around his tiny frame. "Plankton, no," she whispered, her voice filled with a motherly concern that was more powerful than any Krabby Patty recipe. Sponge Bob's expression grew solemn as he watched the scene unfold. He had never seen Plankton so vulnerable, so raw. The villain he knew was now a creature in pain, and his heart swelled with emotion. "Patrick, that's enough," she said, his voice firm. But the damage was done. Plankton's sobs grew louder, and he buried his face in Karen, his body trembling with the weight of his emotions. Karen glared at Patrick, her screen flashing with a fiery protectiveness that was uncharacteristic of her usual calm demeanor. "Patrick, you need to leave," she said, her voice a low hiss. "Now." Patrick, taken aback by the sudden shift in mood, backpedaled awkwardly. "But, I didn't mean to-" "Just go," Karen interrupted, her voice firm. "Outside. I'll talk to you in a moment." Patrick, still chuckling nervously, shuffled to the door. "But, I didn't mean to make him-" "Out!" Karen's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a knife. The urgency in her tone was clear, leaving no room for argument. Patrick, still looking confused, shrugged and waited outside.

.☘︎ ݁˖

🍥🍡🍙👨‍👩‍👧‍👦💝

☸⌖☭⚔⚡︎𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖕✡↗🕸⚕⸸

☺️🎄🇦🇮🇦🇮🇷🇳🇲🇸🇴🇪🇹🇱🇫🇰🇭🇬🇺🇩🇨🇵🇧🇯🇾🇼🇿🇻🇶🇽🇽𝓐𝓑𝑳𝒅ℋℯ𝓁𝓁ℴ 𝓀𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓎𝓴𝓲𝓼𝓼 𝓶𝒆𝐒𝐭✰𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥sᴜʙsᴄʀɪʙᴇ⋆˚࿔ 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝜗𝜚˚⋆𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎R☆ckstar𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒍:()_()---OMG•˚ 𝙽𝙰𝙼𝙴 ˚•˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆૮₍˶ •. • ⑅₎ა ♡˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡°

⋆.˚ ☼⋆𓇼｡𖦹˙༄.° ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ᡣ𐭩

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠄⠄⠠⠀⠂⠂⠄⠄⡀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠂⠁⠀⣠⠤⠤⠤⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠑⠄⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠂⠀⠀⢰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⡂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠀⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠄⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⢆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⡄⠀⡀⡁⠀⠢⣀⣀⣠⣇⣀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡁⠀⢠⠊⠉⠈⠙⢌⡀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡤⢏⣩⣤⢧⠹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠌⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠨⡀⢇⠀⠀⠀⢰⢉⠈⠉⠉⠉⠁⠤⠴⢯⡊⠡⠕⣧⡀⠀⣰⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠎⠂⢓⠄⡠⠂⢉⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠈⢿⠷⣍⢋⠩⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⢸⠀⠀⠐⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⢃⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⢠⡃⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣁⡀⠐⠃⡠⠼⠠⠄⣀⠀⠀⣀⣀⡇⠀⠀⠈⡆⠀⠀⠀⠑⠐⠀⠁⠠⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢴⢃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢡⢃⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠗⠁⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠒⢤⡀⢆⣙⡆⣀⠤⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⠈⢸⠀⠀⠈⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⠤⠃⠀⠀⠰⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠡⢀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢀⡶⠳⣾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠀⠉⠢⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⡆⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⡎⢂⠀⠘⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⢷⠀⠀⡐⠉⢀⡍⢢⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠇⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⢨⠐⡄⠀⢣⢠⢆⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⠅⢸⡀⡨⠁⡐⠁⡀⠞⡇⠀⠀⢠⠪⠤⠀⡄ ⣀⡀⡀⠣⡼⡄⠀⠣⣍⡉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⠔⢁⢀⡆⡇⣇⠁⢀⠆⣁⢖⣧⣤⣪⠅⣄⡲⠇⠀ ⠀⠀⠡⡬⠽⢿⠽⣞⢃⢈⠍⢉⠒⣚⡭⢭⠅⠠⠦⠧⠄⡆⠹⡧⠊⢀⠼⠗⡏⠨⠈⠈⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠐⠂⠀⠘⠘⠐⠁⠐⠐⠚⠛⠉⠈⠂⠂⠘⠛⠙⠚⠛⠚⠉⠀⠁⠈⠁⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀

⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️🟩🟩🟩⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ ⬜️⬜️⬜️🟩☭🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩 ⬜️⬜️⬜️🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️⬜️ ⬜️🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜️⬜️ ⬜️🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜️ ⬜️🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩⬜️ ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️

🇾🇪☭⃢💂‍♀️ 🗡 🇾🇪

TOOTH AFTERNOON v With care, Karen spooned a small amount of ice cream into a bowl, the coldness a stark contrast to the room’s warmth. She brought it to his mouth. “Here, just a little bit at a time. Let it melt a bit, okay?” she instructed, her voice a soft reminder of the care he needed. Plankton’s eye widened as the chilled sweetness touched his tongue. He took small, tentative licks, the taste familiar yet foreign in his numbed mouth. “Mmh...goog,” he murmured, his words still slurred. Karen watched with affection, her heart swelling with love as she fed him. The simple act of caring for him in this vulnerable state was a testament to their bond, stronger than the Krabby Patties they’d fought over countless times. She knew he’d be back to his usual antics soon enough. “Tank...you,” he managed, his voice still thick. Karen’s smile was a soft embrace. “You’re welcome, Plankton. Now, let’s get you comfortable. Here, lie back down,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of the care he needed. Plankton’s body complied, his head sinking back into the pillow with a sigh. Karen carefully placed the bowl of ice cream on the bedside table. “Rest now, Plankton. I’ll be right here if you need anything,” she whispered. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts slowly coming into focus. “Ish...okay, Karen,” he mumbled, his speech still slurred as he closed his eye again. Karen watched him, her heart a gentle symphony of relief and love. She knew the recovery would be long, but the worst was over. With careful movements, she stood and dimmed the light, leaving just a soft glow from the lamp in the corner. She sat back down, her chair a silent sentinel in the quiet room. The hours ticked by, and Plankton’s snores grew more rhythmic, his body finally relaxing into deep sleep. Karen’s thoughts wandered to the days ahead, planning his care, his meals, his pain relief, and the moments of joy she’d weave into his recovery. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the curtains. Plankton’s eye fluttered open, his mouth throbbed with the echoes of the surgery. Karen stirred in the chair beside him, her eyes opening to the sight of him awake. She had spent the night in vigil, ready to ease his pain. “Morning, Plankton. How’re you feeling?” she asked, her voice a gentle melody. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his thoughts groggy from the remnants of sleep. The anesthesia worn off overnight, leaving him more aware. “Morning...whath...whath’sh...” his voice was a croak. Karen’s smile was a gentle awakening. “Good morning, sweetie. You had your wisdom teeth removed. Do you remember?” she asked. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind a foggy haze. “Tesh?” he mumbled, his mouth a swollen cavern. “I only remember getting set up for surgery, then...nothing.” Karen’s smile was a warm comfort. “Don’t worry, love. That’s normal. The anesthesia can make everything after that a bit fuzzy. But you’re home now, and you’re going to be ok,” she assured him, her voice a gentle caress in the early morning quiet. Plankton’s gaze searched the room, the unfamiliarity of his surroundings briefly unsettling him before he recognized the comfort of their bedroom. He shifted slightly, his jaw protesting with a dull throb. “Whath time ish it?” he mumbled, his speech still slow and thick. “And what the barnacles happened?” Karen’s chuckle was a soft symphony of amusement. “It’s morning, Plankton. And as for what happened, after you had your wisdom teeth removed, you had a bit of a loopy day. But now you’re home, and it’s time to star…” Plankton’s eye grew wide with realization. “Loopy?” he repeated, his voice still slurred. “How loopy?” Karen’s laugh was a soft symphony of memories. “Oh, you were quite the entertainment, Plankton. You talked about floobydust and bishbath, and thought it was still morning all afternoon. You even tried to sit up and look around while you had that IV in your arm!” she said, her voice filled with gentle teasing. Plankton’s eye grew wider with each word, his mind racing to fill in the gaps. “IV? Did it hurt?” he mumbled, his voice a sluggish river. Karen’s smile was a gentle reminder of his bravery. “No, sweetie. You were asleep for the surgery. You don’t remember because of the anesthesia. But don’t worry, I’m here to fill you in on the details you miss,” she said. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his curiosity piqued. “Tell meh... whath happened?” he asked, his voice a slurred plea for clarity. Karen’s smile grew, her voice a gentle stream of words. “Well, you were a bit out of it. You talked about wanting to see the lobby, even though we were in the recovery room. But I’ll start with the anesthetic. After they set up, they administered the sleepy juice, and you were out like a light, then they took your teeth out, no problem at all,” she recounted, her words a soothing balm to his confusion. Plankton’s eye searched hers. “Out like a light? How…” Karen’s smile was a soft reminder of his resilience. “Yes, you were out cold. Right after they put the IV in, you just closed your eye and went to sleep with an adorable snore. And the surgery went perfectly. No complications at all,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of his strength. “And right before you first woke up from the anesthesia, I noticed you had a bit of drool. It was cute, really,” she added, trying to lighten the mood with a chuckle. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind racing with questions. “What else...Drool?” he asked. Karen’s chuckle was a warm symphony of shared moments. “Don’t worry; you were so tired, you didn’t even wake up when I had to change your gauze,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of his vulnerability. Plankton’s hand reached up to his mouth, his fingers exploring the foreign presence. “Gauze? Why?” he mumbled, his speech still thick with sleep. Karen’s voice was a soft explanation. “It’s to help the bleeding stop, love. After they took your teeth out, they put some gauze in to help with the clotting. You had to keep it in for a bit, but you slept through most of it. You were a real trooper, barely even stirred,” she said, her words a gentle reminder of the surgery’s aftermath. Plankton’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion and questions. “What about the lobby and the ice cream?” he asked, his words still slurred but growing clearer with each passing minute. Karen’s smile was a gentle reminder of his delirious state. “You kept asking to see the lobby because you were still under the anesthesia’s influence. And the ice cream was for later, once we got home. It’s still in the freezer, waiting for you to wake up and have it for yourself,” she said, her voice a soft narrative of his hazy day. Plankton’s mind slowly pieced together the puzzle. “But why did I want to see the lobby?” he asked, his speech clearer now. Karen’s smile was a soft illumination. “You were just confused, love. Sometimes after anesthesia, people say things that don’t quite make sense. It’s normal,” she said, her voice a gentle guide through his foggy memories. Plankton’s gaze searched hers, his thoughts a tapestry of question marks. “But why did I drool?” he slurred, his curiosity piqued. Karen’s laugh was a sweet symphony of care. “It’s just a side effect of the anesthesia. Don’t worry, you were out cold. You didn’t even know it was there,” she said, her voice a gentle reminder of his oblivion. Plankton’s eye searched hers, his mind still trying to make sense of the day. “But the ice cream? Did I get any?” he asked, hope in his voice. Karen’s smile grew, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, Plankton. You can have some now, if you want,” she said, standing up to fetch the frozen treat. Plankton’s eye lit up with anticipation. “Yesh, pleash,” he murmured, his mouth still uncomfortable. Karen returned with the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, a spoonful held out for him. She watched as he took it into his mouth, the coldness causing him to flinch before his expression softened into one of pure bliss. The sweetness and the coldness of the ice cream was a soothing balm to his sore mouth, and he took another spoonful.

skibigiifikrfjrfjouruj3efi9e3jiheywfiyhihnwduifg76htyu8hfkjn fclaazl,97737838201-1qpa;za.;a,lxskmddewnjkfnjkeb31uyhfr43uhuhyji3u943jujiwdzuihjzaujijhna2kjlhoki0ei:,l;;, l, qArdko?¸Bye🤫🧏🏻‍♂️Bye🗿Ligmaballs🥵 𝗖𝗘𝗢 𝗢𝗙 𝗢𝗛𝗜𝗢 ΔΜØŇǤ ỮŞ ඞඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞ ඞRonaldo 𓃵Ronaldo 𓃵ඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞyNİG🤞🏾GER$ųçķ mý bäłł§NİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERAccccctualy🤓Accccctualy🤓NİG🤞🏾GERNİG🤞🏾GERඞyou are gඞyNİG🤞🏾GERඞyou are gඞyඞyou are gඞy

🕸️👽⃤

"This needs to be an app!!" It is guys it has an app>:D

PLUSH ONE v (By NeuroFabulous) They sit there in silence, their hands clasped. Karen can feel the steady rhythm of his breath, his hand twitching slightly with each exhale. She squeezes his hand, a silent promise of support. "I'm here," she whispers again, her voice a balm to the raw edges of his fear. Plankton's body relaxes into hers, his gaze fixed on their intertwined fingers. Karen's mind races, trying to understand the complex web of sensory input that now dictates his reality. Every touch, every sound, every sight could be either a comfort or a cacophony. "I'm gonna go clean up the metal container." Karen says, giving him a kiss on the forehead before going. After she left, Plankton thought about his rivalry with Krabs. He didn't want Krabs to be suspicious if he suddenly stops trying to steal his formula. He doesn't want Krabs to find out or figure out about his autism. So he wrote down "I went across the street" on a note if Karen came back. Then, he went to the Krusty Krab restaurant. The bright lights and the noise of the kitchen now overwhelms him. He found a corner and sat down, his eye squeezed shut. His heart raced as he tried to think about the mission. It's a place he's been in countless times, but he's autistic now. Yet he knew and remembered the environment, despite the new sensory experience. Plankton took a deep breath and forced his eye open, his gaze darts around, trying to find the safety vault he knew so well. He saw the familiar soda machine, the greasy counters, and the gleaming spatulas, but everything felt wrong. The smell of cooking oil was too intense, the clatter of pans too loud. His mind raced, trying to process the cacophony of sensory input. He needs to focus on getting the recipe out of that safe! Slowly, Plankton stood, his legs wobbly from the effort to filter out the chaos. He knew he had to keep moving, to complete his task. Now to figure out the combination. He approached the safe, his hands trembling with the effort to block out the noise. The buttons on the safe were cold under his fingertips, and he felt the familiar thrill of a challenge. His mind raced, trying to remember his past schemes and the patterns that had always come so naturally to him. But it was like trying to recall a dream. The numbers and sequences danced just out of reach, taunting him with their elusiveness. His eye darted around, catching sight of the menu board, the colorful condiments, and the glint of the cash register. It was all too much. He stepped back, his breaths coming quick and shallow. He needed to find his center, to focus on the task at hand. He closed his eye and thought of Karen, the feel of her hand in his, the sound of her voice. It grounded him, calmed the storm in his head. With renewed determination, he opened his eye. The safe was a monolith, a silent witness to his tumultuous thoughts. He studied the buttons, the cold metal under his fingertips. He knew the pattern had to be simple, something Krabs would think secure. Plankton's mind raced, trying to decipher the sequence that had once come to him so easily. He closed his eye, trying to concentrate, but the sounds and smells of the kitchen crashed over him like a wave. The cacophony was unbearable, a stark contrast to the quiet orderliness of his laboratory. He took a deep breath, focusing on the cool metal of the safe. He had to get the Krabby Patty formula. For Karen, for himself. This was a purpose, his obsession. But now, everything felt different. The familiar had become strange, the simple complex. With trembling hands, Plankton started to press buttons on the safe, his mind racing with the patterns of his past attempts. But his brain didn't respond in the usual way. The numbers jumbled, the sequences slipped away. He felt the weight of his failure pressing down on him, the kitchen sounds amplifying his anxiety. What numbers would Krabs put in? He took a deep breath and tried to visualize their conversations, the tiny details that might hold the key. But every memory was now filtered through the lens of his new autistic brain. It was like trying to solve a puzzle with half the pieces missing. His hand hovered over the dial, his eye blinking rapidly. "Krabs," he murmured to himself. "What would Krabs say?" The name echoed in his head, a beacon in the fog. Plankton knew his rival's patterns, his obsessions. He thought of Krabs' parsimony, his love for his secret formula. It had to be something significant to him, something that made sense in his own peculiar way. Plankton's thumb tapped the side of the safe, his mind racing through memories. And then it clicked. Krabs had always talked about his mother's birthday, a sacred number, a key to his heart. Plankton tried the combination, his heart pounding. The dial spun smoothly, the clicks sounding like a symphony in his heightened hearing. 14-6-82. The safe whirred to life, the door popping open. Plankton's eye widened in amazement, his heart racing. He'd done it. He reached in and grabbed the precious envelope. The Krabby Patty formula, in Krabs' own scrawl. It was within his grasp. Now to get out of here! But how? What's made him always get caught before? The chaos of the kitchen faded away, and he saw the pattern. It was his lack of disguise, his hasty exits. This time would be different. He needed to blend in, to become part of the background. He needed to calm down, to think through his actions logically. He couldn't let his excitement overwhelm him. Plankton had to get out without drawing attention to himself. He thought back to the times he'd seen Krabs interact with his employees, the casual way he'd moved through the kitchen... Plankton then spotted the air vent! Sure enough, he and the recipe both fit through. He emerged into the alley, his heart racing. The cold air was a slap in the face, but it also brought with it a sense of clarity. He knew his sensory overload would make a hasty retreat impossible. But he's out of the Krusty Krab! He ran back to his own place across the street. Plankton stumbled into his lab, his eye taking in the familiar sights with new intensity. The colors were too bright, the smells too potent, the sounds of his own inventions too loud. But here, he knew he was safe. He laid the envelope on his workbench, his hand shaking with excitement. This was his life's work, the elixir to his problems. But now, with the Krabby Patty formula in his grasp, he wasn't sure what to do next. His mind raced with the sensory input from the kitchen, making it difficult to think clearly. The lab's chaos seemed to calm him, though. The familiar sounds of beeping machines and the faint scent of chemicals soothed his overwhelmed senses. He took a deep breath, his hand steadying. The envelope sat there, a symbol of his old life. His obsession with the Krabby Patty formula had been the driving force behind their rivalry for so long. Now, his autism didn't erase his past, it just colored it differently. The desire to be successful, to have what Krabs had, remained. But the way he approached the world had changed. He knew the taste, the smell, the very essence of a Krabby Patty. It was a part of him now, a memory that could never fade. He stared at the envelope, his heart racing. Plankton took a deep breath, his eye focusing on the paper. His hands trembled as he opened it, the formula's secrets were written in a made up code by Krabs. But Plankton's autism made it decipherable to him! The letters and numbers danced on the page, but instead of the jumbled mess he'd expected, they formed patterns, beautiful patterns that his brain craved. He saw the structure, the order, the way each ingredient intertwined with the next. It was like a symphony of flavors, and he was the conductor. His heart raced as he read through the document, his mind whirling with the possibilities. He threw away the handwritten note from before as he brought the formula into the bedroom with him. Plankton sat on the bed, his mind racing. The code was complex, but he could see the patterns. It was like the universe had laid bare its secrets to him.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡰⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⠞⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠎⠀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣔⡥⠒⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠒⢤⡀⠀⠀⡇ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⢟⡁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⠀⢹ ⠀⠀⠀⢀⢾⢋⡏⠉⠉⠒⡖⠢⢤⡄⠀⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⢸ ⠀⠀⡰⠋⡎⠼⢤⣀⣀⠀⡇⠀⡞⠛⡺⠀⠉⡝⠒⠒⢤⡄⣿ ⢀⠞⠁⠀⡇⠀⠀⡀⠉⠉⠙⠚⠁⠀⠣⠤⠤⣇⣀⡀⡼⠀⣹ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⡀⠘⠙⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⡈⠉⠁⣠⢻ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⣴⣒⡆⠀⠀⠀⠁⣁⡤⠞⠁⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣄⠈⠉⠒⠒⠿⡭⠤⠴⠒⠒⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀⢸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡀⠀⠀⣀⡤⣧⡀⠀⠀⡼⠦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠸ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠣⠔⠋⠁⢀⡇⠙⢦⡼⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀💂🏻‍♂️

CHIP IN MY BOX v (Autistic author) As Chip watches, Plankton's body starts to twitch, his snores growing louder and more erratic. Chip's heart leaps into his throat, his stomach clenching with fear. Is he having another episode? Karen notices the shift in his breathing and gently squeezes Chip's hand. "It's okay," she whispers. "He's just waking up." Plankton's eye flutters open, his gaze unfocused. For a moment, he seems lost, then his gaze sharpens as he sees his wife and son. The fear and anger from before are replaced with a weary resignation. He sits up, rubbing his eye with the heels of his hands. "I'm sorry," he murmurs to Karen, his voice thick with sleep and regret. "I didn't mean to scare you." He looks at her, his eye searching for forgiveness. Karen's eyes are filled with compassion as she nods. "It's okay," she whispers, her hand still in his. "We just need to find a way to help you through these moments." Plankton takes a deep breath, his shoulders dropping. "I know," he says, his voice a mix of exhaustion and resignation. Chip's eyes are glued to his father, his curiosity a constant thrum. "But why do you have these moments?" He asks, his voice laced with concern. Plankton sighs, his eye dropping to the floor. "It's complicated," he says, his voice heavy with weariness. Chip's curiosity doesn't waver. "But what causes it?" He asks, his voice persistent. He wants to understand, to help, to be there for his dad in a way he never has before. Plankton looks at his son, his eye filled with a mix of pride and frustration. "It's my brain," he says, his voice strained. "It's just... wired differently." His antennae twitch nervously. "Sometimes, it gets too much, and I need to step back, to find a way to... recalibrate." Chip frowns, his curiosity deepening. "But what happens when you have those moments?" He asks, leaning in closer. Plankton's gaze is on his sensory box. "It's like... everything's too loud, too bright," he says, his voice barely audible. "I can't... I can't filter it out." Karen's eyes are filled with understanding as she nods. "It's like your brain is a radio," she says, "And sometimes all the channels are on at once." Chip's eyes go to Plankton's box. "So, the box..." Plankton nods, his antennae drooping slightly. "The box helps me focus," he says, his voice still quiet. "It's got things that calm me down." He sets the box down next to himself. Chip's eyes light up with renewed interest. "Can I see?" He asks, leaning in. Plankton hesitates, his hand on the box. It's his sanctuary, his shield against the world's assault on his senses. But he sees the earnestness in Chip's eyes, the need to understand. With a sigh, he opens the box. Chip's eyes widen as he takes in the contents: a velvet curtain, a weighted blanket, a stress ball. "What are these for?" He asks, his voice filled with wonder. Plankton's antennae twitch nervously. "The velvet's for touch," he says, his voice still low. "It's soothing." He picks up the weighted blanket, his hand shaking. "This one's for when I get overwhelmed, it grounds me." Chip's eyes widen as he looks at the items, his fingers itching to touch. He looks at the fidgets. "And these?" He asks, his voice hopeful. Plankton watches his son, his antennae still. "It's for when my hands need to do something," he says, his voice a whisper. "When I'm... overwhelmed." Chip's hand reaches out, his curiosity overruling his fear. He grabs the fidgets, his eyes wide with wonder. He turns one over in his small hands, feeling it's texture. Karen watches them both, her heart in her throat. Chip picks up some of the fidgets, his thumb tracing the smooth edges. He looks up, his eyes shining with determination. "What if... what if we could make a game out of this, li—" His words are cut off by a sharp clatter as the fidgets slip from his grasp. They hit the open sensory box, landing on the other items with a series of clinks and cracks as every thing inside shatters into tiny, unrecognizable pieces. The room seems to hold its breath, the echoes of the destruction hanging in the air. Plankton's eye widens. Karen gasps, her hand flying to her mouth as she sees the shattered remnants of Plankton's coping mechanisms. Chip's eyes fill with horror as the reality of what he's done sinks in. The fidgets lie scattered, broken and useless, a stark reminder of his own carelessness. His hands are shaking as he reaches for the box, his heart racing with regret... Plankton's eye widens, his body going rigid with shock. He's seen his sanctuary desecrated, the one thing that brings him peace shattered under his own son's curiosity, a knife cutting through the thick silence. The room feels like it's spinning, his senses bombarding him with the sight of the destroyed box, the feel of his heart racing, the sound of his wife's stifled gasp. He can't breathe, his chest tight with an unspoken rage that builds with each passing second. Plankton's expression is unreadable. "Chip!" Karen's voice is a desperate whisper, a plea for their son to understand, but Plankton's mind is a whirlwind of chaos. "Dad, I'm sorry," Chip stammers, his eyes wide with fear as he looks at the wreckage before him. Plankton's breathing is quick and shallow, his eye darting from shard to shard of the broken fidgets. He can't speak, the words trapped in his throat by the onslaught of sensory assault. His mind races, trying to find a way to escape the chaos that's invaded his safe space. Karen knows what this means for him, the turmoil that must be raging inside. Plankton's breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his body trembling with suppressed fury. The world around him is a cacophony of sounds and lights, his sensory overload reaching a new peak. He can't focus, his mind a blur of images and emotions.